Seripheth Araknamere

**Seripheth Araknamere**, half Drow, half Wood Elf has never been at home in either of his heritage's cultures. He was ruthlessly trained and treated by his Dark Elven grandfather due to his grandfather's hatred of him for taking Seripheth's mother's life in birth. He has since left his homeland and wanders Saldun, searching for his true father.

## Physical Description

Seripheth is a Drow and as such is accustomed to dark material, generally cloaks which he uses to hide his appearence.

## Backstory

My tale is one of an ill-conceived wretch torn between two worlds but claimed by neither. Born into nobility through illegitimate crisis, my mother a high born of Drow society, my father a prince of the woodland realm and… the perpetrator of the heinous crime that brought me into this existence. Raised under the Iron fist tutelage of a brutal grandfather, Lord Warden of the Sept of Spiders and devoted high initiate of Lolth, Goddess of the Underdark. He alone knew the truth of my origin. Given the chance he would have ended me as an infant, a sacrificial offering fallen victim to his ritual dagger in honour and praise of his foul Goddess. This would have been my fate had it not been for the solemn words of his dying daughter, my mother as she lay with her new-born cradled in her arms. Burdened by an oath of protection I passed that day into his care. I was raised Drow, trained as Drow and was both accepted and elevated as one of noble blood within the Dark Elf kingdom. But even with the privilege of status heaped upon me, so it was that I was never made to shake free of the shame of my secret and even with the protection my grandfather’s station afforded me I was never more than an arm’s length from his cruel grasp and vindictive nature. Not for one day in my life did he allow me to forget the daughter that I had taken from him and the crime perpetuated by my father. An anger grew within, it fuelled my development and energised every facet of my training. Weakness I learned from an early age was not an enjoyment I would give my grandfather the satisfaction of exploiting, half Elven, half Drow but accepted by neither I came to realise that my years within the cloisters of the Underdark would soon end.

As I came of age I gathered my belongings and ascended from the underworld looking back only one last time to cast an eye upon the realm that I had once dead of night ensured that I would never again be subjected to the torments and abuses of my grandfather, but it also ensured that I would never again be able to set foot in this land. Passing quietly and without notice through the realms borders I have entered this new world filled with a lust for vengeance, a hatred for the kin of my father and an oath sworn to my mother. I will seek out, hunt down and embrace my forebear with the same effect I did my mentor as he slept soundly in his chamber.

## Individuals of Importance

* **Grandfather**
* **Mother**

## Previous connections to other party members

### **Tolaar**

I was three days’ travel south of the Drow borders when I picked up the Wood elf trail. Though I could not be certain my dark elf perception told me a patrol numbering no larger than two or three were travelling westward and with haste through the forests that dominated this region. Tracking the party for two nights and three days I closed the distance and using the shadow and dark fells of the woodland paths was able to remain concealed by all living creatures as I neared my quarry. The forests though unknown to me had a familiarity I could not explain and though thick and dank I was able to negotiate it with an ease that surprised me. (I would later come to realise that these profound skills were a wood elf gift carried naturally in my blood memory passed down to me by my father) It was the third night when at last my prize came into view. Three woodland elves had established a small fire and were feeding upon the cooked meat of a deer they had felled earlier that day. Their camp was situated in a small clearing though the thick forest canopy blocked out even the light of the full moon and the stars above. Preferring to simply observe and though keen to ambush the enemies I had been travelling for near on four days with no rest and little to eat, I nestled into the hollowed trunk of a nearby willow an entered a rest state deciding to act upon the morning light. I awoke to the sound of many voices, peering through the thicket I could see that another group of elven hunters had met with the original group and were discussing the detection of a large Goliathan creature which had stumbled unknowingly into the forest realm a day earlier and had partaken of one of the wood deer stags, presumably for eating. Now outnumbered seven to one any chance I had held the night prior to engaging this group had become tantamount to suicide. I opted for a quiet withdrawal as opposed to open confrontation, however still jaded from lack of rest and food I cracked a lowly branch as I withdrew and within an instant the group had sprung to their feet bows raised and arrows pointed in my direction. I started to run, the chase was on.
Mustering every ounce of stamina I had in reserve I darted and weaved deeper into the woods, branches and twigs tore at my flesh and pummelled my torso as I ran for my life, the hunter had become the hunted and with Elven arrows whipping past my head and the howls and taunts of my pursuers ringing in my ears I knew that they were nearing me. Freshly rested, nourished and eager for the hunt I was outnumbered by a superior enemy bent of the letting of Drow blood. Pain pounding in my head, blood pumping through my veins, instinct had taken control and I ran like the evening wind. Jinking left and right I dodged the arrow flights with unnerving ability much to the dismay of the elves behind, an arrogant race priding itself on its inherent ability with the bow. Minutes passed as seconds and it seemed as though the gap between predator and prey was widening. I felt a premature ease begin to wash over me as the sounds and cries of the elves faded behind when suddenly a terrible pain tore through my thigh, casting a glance I could see the intricately crafted head of an elvish arrow protruding from my upper leg, blood tricking from the piercing wound. In a sudden the earth beneath me gave way and I felt myself losing my footing, tumbling headlong down through the foliage and shrubbery of a deep ravine, being entangled and struck by a myriad of forest limbs which reached out to ensnare me like a raging beast. Head over heels I stumbled crashing headlong over rock and stone until my toil came to a complete halt my head striking hard against a large boulderous formation which arrested my fall in a sharp and jarring agony. Swooning out of consciousness the last thing I could hear was the passing of the elven patrol high above the top of the ravine. Oblivious to my situation they had passed unknowingly by, off in pursuit of an imaginary quarry. The last thing I saw before the oblivion of unconsciousness engulfed me was a large shadow rising to its feet, and a huge gnarled hand reaching down to grab me by my chest. I awoke several days later aside a small fire and the smell of roasting meat. My thigh bandaged, the arrow removed and aside from a score of cuts, abrasions and some pretty severe bruising none the worse for wear. As I sat up it was only then that it became apparent who had tended to my injuries and removed me from the path of a returning elven patrol. This gargantuan creature, in possession of some keen healing skills who I know curiously feel indebted to, an emotion that I cannot describe and one that goes against every dark elven fibre in my being.