Name:  Izzeyl, Formerly of House Pharn

Height:  145 cm (4 feet, 9 inches)

Izzeyl is the fifth daughter of what she would readily admit is a rather insignificant house.  Almost immediately, she was thoroughly uninterested in the constant scheming and plotting that her mother, aunts, and sisters seemed obsessed with.  Young Izzeyl spent much of her time lurking through caves, practicing with a bow.  Since it seemed that House Pharn never advanced anywhere, it just was all the more foolish.  As one might expect, this caused no small amount of friction between herself and her family.  What was merely an annoyance to her mother when she was a young girl became far more problematic when Izzeyl grew into young adulthood.

As much as Izzeyl eschewed what she felt was the traditional drow mindset, she was still a drow at heart, and even more stubborn and headstrong than her mother.They tried to get her to torture svirfneblin slaves and she would not.  She would only participate in religious ceremonies in the most perfunctory of ways, making her way through them with the occasional eye roll.  That was the final straw for her mother, who finally decided to have her confined to her room.

This was no long-term solution, though.  After weeks turned into months, though, it started to seem that way to Izzeyl.  For all that she professed hating any sort of plotting and scheming, she needed to do some now.  She noticed that they seemed to rotate the guards at her room on a random basis.  She tried to talk to them, but none would say anything back, until one day, the briefest of eye contact with one of them.  Over the next several days, she looked for another glance from him, and finally got it.  It was most unlike her to try to be alluring, but she gave it a shot.  Luckily, the bar seemed pretty low.  One day, a tiny note that said, "Tonight.  Be ready."

That night, in the early hours, the door slipped open a crack.  The guard gestured silently for her to follow and she did, taking with her only a select few possessions.  They slipped off into the wilds of the Underdark, making rapid time, moving without a sound, for several hours before stopping.  She opened her mouth to thank him, but in a flash, his lips were on hers.  She hadn't time to wonder why their escape had seemed so easy, and felt obligated to thank him, and she did...

Later, she was starting to doze off, laying against his side when she saw his hand move to his belt.  The dagger slipped easily between her ribs.  A millimeter either way and she likely would have been dead.  She was lucky with her own strike, though, catching him in the heart.  Only now, afterward, did she realize that the escape was too easy.  Her mother had realized the easy way to finally be rid of her.  And the would-be assassin's reward, beyond the gold, were obvious; she could still taste it.  She found a healing salve in his pack and rubbed it on the wound, eating some rations.  Finding a pouch of gold, as well, she took it and slipped off into the darkness.