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[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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The last thing the old Drow assassin rememebered was finishing a glass of whisky on the porch of Shadowhall. His eyes opened to the burning glare of his desert homeland. Alaundril found out quickly that his limbs were bound, someone had left him to fed on by the buzzards it would seem. He struggled for a few moments, managing to free his right hand, his mind turning over and over what had happened. The sun had burnt his lips, his skin tingled....and his mouth was dry. It took what felt like hours to get himself free of the ropes, his mind started to clear and he could remember clearly now.

The night was late and Alaundril, the Shadowmancer was finishing his nightcap for the evening. Though for him, the night was when the sun began to rise. As he turned to go to his chamber, a black shadowy figure stood between him, and the inside of the manor.
"So comfortable. This wasn't what I had in mind....Shadowmancer."
The voice was powerful yet subdued, loud, yet soft.
Alaundril looked at the figure impassively.
"Boss, I am doing what you told me to do...what the contract stipulated."
The masked figured stepped out of the shadows, two piercing red eyes stared at Alaundril from beneath the cowl of a hood.
"You have abandoned our cause. You serve the cause of a King far removed from our interests. Morchiant has returned, he will assume the role that you miserably failed at."
Alaundril scowled at the Masked One. "Morchiant? He's dead."
"No...he's not. You will serve him as you have served me, he will guide our plans here."
Alaundril growled and looked away from his Lord quickly. "As you wish."
"What of the contract with Stonegate?"
The Masked one almost laughed, a deep rumble of a laugh. "The contract no longer suits our purposes, it is no longer profitable. There is much more important business at hand."
"You're wrong..."
The deity's hand rose and fell across Alaundril's face. For an instant, he felt intense pain and then nothing.

By the looks of the foot prints around him, there was one robed person. It looked like his Boss had dragged him out into the desert to die. After a few hours of wandering through the sands, he found a familiar structure, one he had aptly named, "The Double Dagger Inn". He shambled over to the porch, dousing his head in the trough. Just then, his secretary walked through the doors and saw his old Boss laying there, half unconscious on the tanned stone.
"Well...at least he found some water." Mr. Narshan looked down at Alaundril and sighed. "I suppose we should get you inside sir. Good to have you back."
Alaundril was unconscious at this point. So Mr. Narshan grabbed his ankle and dragged him inside the inn, shutting the door and fixing the lock.