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[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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Alaundril had taken his time leaving his retreat far beneath the earth. It had been close to two months since Calamyr had disappeared from his prison. The only reason why the younger Drow had been able to leave was because he had arranged it. Alaundril had left Drayden his blade, so he may slay his torturer. Such sweet irony. The thought of his own son doing away with a powerful Drow priestess pleased him greatly. Perhaps it was time to see what could be done with his recently changed son. His original plan had worked to almost perfection. He had performed the ritual to cleanse the filth of the surface from Drayden. His blood was that of the Drow. No longer would the weakness of the light trouble him. Alaundril had watched the war in the Northlands. Watched his son fight this battle within himself, torn between the light and chaos. Drayden's eventual acceptance of the chaos only made the ritual to purge him even easier. He could tell that the drow he released was not the same one that he had captured. A cold efficiency had been executed by his son. A singular cause had taken form and he saw more and more of himself in Drayden as the days waned on and he watched.

The old Drow emerged from the tunnel to the underdark. Looking at the ground he could still see the booted prints of Calamyr's passing. A wicked grin crossed his old features as he thought of his next move. Long had the Sirah been under human control. It was time to reclaim what was the Drow's legacy. He knew where to find the one known as Jerrick Stark. The one claiming to be the Boss of the Syndicate. Alaundril started down the mountain, walking at a brisk pace towards the city known as Minoc. The sun was setting, casting the burning light into his eyes. It had been centuries since his eyes had seen the sun and it caused them to sting horribly and made his eyes tear profusely. In order to protect his eyes, his pulled the hood over his head and shielded his face.

Several hours later, in the waning hours of final sunlight he reached Minoc and the ventured down to Vesper. The city of bridges was a common place for dispatches to be exchanged. At least, according to what Drayden had told him during his capture. It didnt take too long until he spotted Jerrick at the bank. He had watched this one before and it pleased the drow to no end at what the outcome of this encounter would be. He clung to the shadows, hiding expertly with a finely crafted short bow in hand. The present leader of Alaundril's ancient Sirah Syndicate was moving from the bank now. The thought of a human taking command of a band of mercenaries, his mercenaries, left a bad taste in his mouth. He intended on righting a serious mistake he had made in the past.

He stalked Stark silently back to the local Syndicate safehouse and took up a perfect position along the tree line. As the human went to the door and was messing with his keys, the Drow pulled a slender wicked looking arrow from his quiver and set it into place along the bow. Alaundril took his time as lined up the shot, gauging the distance and wind carefully. As Jerrick clicked the door open, the arrow was loosed and whistled through the air and hit him square between the shoulders. The unfortunate human fell to the ground...mortally wounded. Alaundril's red eyes could see perfectly now in the dark of night. He heard a frightened squeak from an unfortunate passerby, a young woman who had truly had some bad luck. With a cruel grin he set another arrow and lined up the shot patiently. The poor woman saw Jerrick fall into his home and she was now going to investigate what had happened.
Pity she would never find out.
Alaundril loosed an arrow aimed for the back of her neck, hoping to end this quickly. There was a quiet whistle and then a heavy thud as the unfortunate soul fell to the ground, choking on her own blood...
No witnesses.
The wooden structure would burn perfectly. He quickly set the blaze along the border of the building. Lighting it in flames. That would keep the locals busy long enough for him to get away from this place and find his son's location. The ancient Drow found sick pleasure in his execution of justice. The Sirah now belonged to the Drow once more and it was time to see what those Drow were doing. Drayden had been working, and Alaundril was quite interested in what chaos his son had brought to the world....