OOC: background: This takes place on the Arican Continent, in the world of Belthan. This is a medival fantasy, so no "futureistic" objects please. Magic users of all types welcome. Just make sure you don't kill anyone other than the enemies, some of the NPCs in the group WILL be irritating.
A young drow elf stood on the cliff, overlooking the surface of the world, a place he had never been to. The wheather was warm, and the wind blew calmly, and the young drow smiled. The sun stung his eyes, yet he embraced it. This was the mission he had left home for, the mission to kill a deserter. The deserter's name was Ralgan, and he was to die. The only problem was, most humans, dwarves, and elves on the surface hated the drow for their rituals. How was he going to overcome the racism, and the lack of funds?
Lith stared out into the forest below him, he knew Ralgan was somewhere on the surface. He knew Ralgan had killed his brother, Dameon, only two weeks prior to running. Dameon had been one of Lith's closest companions since he had been but 4 years old. And now Lith was going to avenge his friend, for Lith was no oridnary drow. Lith was the best assassin in his city, the best swordsman, the best assassin, the best trainer, and he was only a mere thirty years old, with over six-hundred years more to improve. Lith watched for signs of heat running through the forest, and saw about twenty to twenty-five. "Great, animals up here let off more heat than do the lizards from Shadowhaven," Lith commented to himself, speaking of his home town. Lith stared at the forest, and waited.