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Before I get started, let me give you the setting:

Miles below the surface of the Gaian empire there lives an unseen race of people, no, Drow or Dark Elves as they are known to be called. Their home is what is commonly reffered to as, The Underdark. A hellish place of shadow and death to the common surface dweller, while it is home to us.
Each home, each fortress is fashioned from the very stones that make the planet. The original forms are rarely altered, however the inside can be as simple as a cave, to as complex and dangerous as an overly trapped labberenth.
The Drow are in a way, ruled by the women, they are larger built than the men and are even more favored by the dark goddess we worship, Lolth, Queen of the Demon Web.

Now I shall move on to my story. My name, is Ist'lyn, and I was born into a houseless family, a house is the term given to each clan that overrules the vast city, if it can be called a city. Because we are housless, we are worthless beggers, slaves, outcasts, and mercenaries. So I was raised naturally, to be a thief and assassin. I was good at it, using the infered vision we Drow enherit to track down my victim, to locate the perfect heated shadow and even the best locations to strike both at, and from.
It wasn't until I happend to come acrossed a noble, I wanted his piwafwi, a kind of cloak that bares the marker of the house that Drow lives in. This one belonged to the house of Hun'Afin, or Sisterhood of the Web, so, I stalked this noble to a hidden place and made my strike, the killing blow was quick and clean. There was however, one problem, I was seen, by my parents, who beat me sensless and stashed the cloak away.
I never forgave them, so while they were in that meditative sleep, I crept in their seperate rooms and slaughtered them both, starting with the mother. I grabbed the piwafwi and made my way to the Hun'Afin fortress, the house was ranked 30th out of a 50 house city. Now each house is headed by a Matron, her daughters, sons slaves then the father, a kind of plaything for the matron mother. This matron's name, was Shynt'Lara Hun'Afin.
As I made my way in, I was instantly confronted by the head of the guard, and first son of house Hun'Afin, Tullrian, a master archer who was cold and calculating to the point of being unnatural. He knew the cloak to not belong to me and so demanded to know who was arriving in such and insulting manner. I simply stated who I was and that I wished to speak with the matron. Tullrian called to his "Identical" twin Baen'Eth Hun'Afin and had him guide me to her, this brother looked nothing like Tullrian and I knew why; this Drow soldier used his fists for everything and thus, was horribly scarred from head to toe.
As we reached the matron's throne room, I was stripped of the cloak, my weapons and armor. There I stood feeling naked and vulnerable in basic cloth before tha matron, who wore a finely made spider silk dress, the skirt of the dress however, was cut at two places and tucked into boots for a practical use, she too, was an assassin. I answered each question she gave me, I proved valuable enough to be named her adopted son.