Life was nothing but darkness. A gasp of air escaped her lips among the stale and damp. A powerful voice of tongues resonated somewhere in the distance, and within the unknown she was vivified. Decay and rot had taken so much already but with freedom abound, the defiled copse of wood and vermin could exist as a nightmare. How difficult it was for her to dig, and finally her skeletal hand pierced through the earth to greet moonlight. It was not meant for her to abandon her former barrier with any hint of functionalities. She grasped a sharp plank of wood she had used for a shovel, and drove it into the skull of the first traveler who frightened her by their own reaction of fear. She then wore a hooded cloak to conceal her identity from the city guards, and everyone else. Not knowing where to turn, she scampered off back to a dark building guarded by two stone golems. Perhaps there at the graveyard she could learn of what happened, or what she was.
A half-decaying drow is before you. Pale white hair drifts ghostily down over a black burial gown, the only source of life. She has a pair of sharp, yellow eyes that burn with passionate ambition. Most of her face resembles the image of a grotesque leper. Her teeth are revealed through the left side of her jawline, appearing deadly and spiked. She holds herself with a high grace found in the drow maidens of the Underdark. Hanging around her neck is a black jewel that emanates evil.