They called me Aramil, at least that was the only Eladrin name they could think of. I never knew my own name since the drow never cared enough to give me one. If I had a name, it was taken from me, along with my real parents, during a drow surface raid. My escape from the underdark is a tale for another time, but when I eventually reached the surface, I was found, half dead and starving, by a human on the outskirts of a town called Fallcrest. He turned out to be the leader of a local street gang called the river rats. His name was Kelson.
I was just a kid so Kelson took pity on me, at least I like to think it was pity. In any case, I fit in with his band and he seemed to see some potential in me. He took me under his wing, taught me to fight, and how to steal. I guess you could say he was a mentor to me, though not quite a father.
So, I spent what was left of my childhood running errands and doing petty crimes for Kelson. I lived in a room upstairs in the Lucky Gnome Taphouse. I never talked about my past as a drow slave, and Kelson never asked; or didn’t care.