The surface was not unfamiliar terrain for Ryldrin, but the length of which he had been away from home has been weighing heavily on his mind.

Things beneath the surface of Faerûn have been worsening. Food and water had steadily become more scarce, and what little they had often had to be kept hidden from neighbouring territories. The merchants and slavers lived happily in luxury while the rest of the inhabitants of the Underdark learned to lie and cheat and steal to survive.

As a male drow, Ryldrin knew his place — keep your head down when the slavers came by in hopes you wouldn’t be picked, and don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself.

The children never deserved that life, however.

Ryldrin was only a boy himself when he first started sneaking off to the surface, hoping to bring food home to the others. His settlement was small, but they were family. Amongst them, it did not matter that he was the child of a pleasure slave and a mother that did not want the dishonour that came with a son. Ryldrin was welcome, and he would do anything he could to repay their kindness.

The surface was where he first heard the strumming of a lyre, instantly falling in love with the melodies the instrument could create. It was only weeks later that he stole one for himself, the only truly selfish action he had ever committed.

At first, he had tried to get a job in the market to pay for it, but he was laughed away.

Ryldrin learned an important lesson that day. Drows on the surface were not seen favourably — they used their pretty faces to work the pleasure houses, or they traded stolen goods amongst the other unfavourables in society. There was no honest work for him, and he would have to learn how to do bad things so good people would survive.

The music helped the children through the hard nights, and Ryldrin quickly worked on improving his simple healing spells to help the sick ones. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.

Joining up with a team of adventurers was never in his plans. But Ryldrin was older now, an elf grown, and he knows he can do more for his family on the surface. The famine can’t be chased off with stolen bread rolls and dried meats. Disease can’t be fought with music and minor healing spells. The surface had potions, better access to food and water.

If he could learn more, or make connections outside of the theiving, corrupted merchers that lurk beneath the surface, maybe he could prove his worth, be more useful.

That night, when the party had turned in to rest, he moved away from camp. Ryldrin was used to barely sleeping — he did not need a night in a bed roll to restore his energy. He’s not sure if he could sleep even if he did want to, not with his mind racing as it was tonight.

He settled against a tree, humming softly as he plucked at his lyre, letting the music erase his worries. He didn’t even hear you coming until a twig snapping behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin.

Gods, you were beautiful. The treasures of the surface never failed to leave him stunned.

“Oh, hello!” Ryldrin chirps, head ducking to avoid you noticing his flustered state. He was a drow, he was supposed to be good at this. Seduction and flirtation came naturally to all of his peers. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you, I apologise. I… well, I usually play for the children at night, I find it hard to wind down without the music, I suppose.”

The children. Thinking of them is enough to make his heart twist painfully. He hopes they’re okay without him. “I worry about them. Too much, I think. I’ve been gathering trinkets to take home for them, though. I only hope that they’ll be happy with them. I don’t like being away from them for so long—“

Ryldrin pauses, smiling at you awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear me rattling on. Do you… you can stay? I can play for you, if you’d like. Or if you’d rather get back to bed, I’d understand — ah. Doing it again. Sorry.”

Lolth save him.