When you exist at the outskirts of any culture you never belong. but when your ignoble birth as a mutt in drow society, you are reprobate, inexcusable refuse, dreggs in the wine glass of the underdark..  If you're fortunate, they kill you.

About Briseis -
What her drow name was, noone could guess.  She has instead taken her own name after being sent to the markets to be sold.  She was fortunate enough to have found one willing to help her escape.  But the price... there was a price.

Description -

She has the tell-tale pale hair of the drow, alabaster and feathery soft, whisps of it fall in front of her eyes sometimes. She is tall like drow women are, smaller framed than a human, but larger than an elf.  Her face is structured very much like any drow woman, angular cheeks and chin with a slender nose and wide staring eyes that gaze, sometimes too long.  They are violet in color rather than red.  Her ears are tapered slightly, though less pronounced than her pure-blooded brethren.

Her body is feminine but strong: a wasp waist as her maternal kin, but wider at the hips and shoulders.  Everything is plush, from rubied lips to her full breasts, and at her spine, a curve ending where her hips support a firm, round, taut rump.  Things jiggle sometimes.  How could they not?

There is nothing extraordinary about the V betwixt her thighs.  It too is feminine, soft, inviting even - as any woman can be.  Her thighs and calves are shapely, smaller at the knee and ankle. They are long and lean and probably one of her better features.

As far as her beauty though, it ends there.  She is ill-tempered most days, prone to violence with a perpetual sneer on her face and a distain for most around her.  Spiteful, vengeful, ill-willed. And yet, her manners are impeccable when needed, showing that she does know better.  She simply chooses to be shrewish.