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[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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The old drow stood on the balcony of Shadowhall looking out over the Northern landscape. His mind was turning about recent events, events that made him want to drink more. Alaundril looked down at the brown whisky in his glass. One of the few human spirits that I actually enjoy. They can't make wine, but damn can they distill some whisky. He grinned to himself and took a swallow of the liquid, enjoying the warmth as it spread through his chest. The taste of his drink wasn't the only thing that brought a smile to his lips this evening. After decades, his daughter had returned to him. He thought back to the time when he had last seen her. A time when he was young, foolish and made far too many mistakes.
Those mistakes were few and far between now. Experience had taught the old assassin to be patient, something that eluded him in his more chaotic past. Now, he found enjoyment in women, gambling and alcohol. Twenty decades ago, his interests were vastly different. He delighted himself in causing pain, spreading chaos in the human lands, killing....

When Felyn was born, this all seemed to be changed. His life in the Drow underground became more of a burden than something to look forward to. Every day, he constantly feared that his family would be discovered. The Drow noble with his High Elven noble wife. Luckily, Felyn was spared much of life's prejudices towards someone like her. A drow. Another half breed drow. Fate has a sense of irony. Alaundril had encouraged his son to embrace who he was, to embrace chaos and his Drow heritage. To an unknowing watcher, young Feyln was most definitely an elf. Though few would guess that her father was the last male noble of a dead house. A house that I toppled....and now it seems that my own is toppling as well.
Feyln had come to him at the Shadowhall this evening, a full grown woman. Alike her older brother and him in so many ways. Even many of the facial features were the same. The eyes, the nose. It was her eyes that brought back memories of his lost lover. She looked like her mother...the blue eyes of the fey. In the underdark, she would have be sacrificed to Lloth for being impure and weak. A freak of nature. What good would an albino drow be in the underdark?

Alaundril drained his glass and set it down, taking a deep breath. Now...she is under my protection again. Damn that son of mine for being cunning. He was right to get her out of the Drow quarter. Alaundril walked inside and looked upstairs towards the bedroom that his daughter slept in and took a breath. So much like her mother...I won't let harm come to her. My own actions brought disaster upon our family. Not again.