Author's Note: I do not like this prologue, and I am inclined to replace it. Also, the characters are all my own, near and dear to my heart. I started this as history for the House that has become my pet project, but it's taken on a life of its own. I endeavor to show the drow as a wider spectrum of individuals—it's ridiculous in my mind to claim all drow are either completely and irredeemably evil or a Drizzt Do'Urden. Thus, plenty of the characters may fall well into the middle ground. Don't get snappy at me for making them too "soft". I guarantee you, there will be evil characters as well as semi-good ones.
"Matron Jysfryn, you requested my presence?" the House Wizard asked. The human sage standing beside the other visiting dignitaries was astonished. For a drow to show such age meant he was ancient indeed.
"Vornas," the young Matron said, delighted. She held out a hand to him, which he cupped and kissed accordingly. "Yes, I wished to speak with you. Have you been able to recover all of those records my great-grandmother ordered destroyed?"
The wizard's gnarled hands moved themselves back to his staff. "She was very thorough, Matron. Some of the ledgers and histories that Matron Mayna commissioned or that entailed her reign may never be recovered, I fear."
"A pity. I should have liked to study her more. A fascinating ancestor indeed," Jysfryn said with a touch of disappointment. She turned to her guests, a very odd picture beside the elderly male. "May I present to all of you our House Wizard, Vornas Despana."
Jysfryn was young indeed to be Matron, barely seventy. She still had a long life ahead of her, if the Goddess was kind, and was as radiant as ever. All of her movements were energetic, vibrant with animation. The small group of foreigners—two humans, a dwarf, a half-elf, a svirfneblin, and a tiefling—were not entirely sure how to react. Jysfryn did not only seem alive, she seemed to be genuinely enjoying every minute of it.
And then there was this wizard, Vornas. Deep lines creased his face, especially the brow above two deep set, glittering steel eyes. His neatly trimmed goatee and long hair, once a rich ivory color, had turned a washed-out gray with age. His frame had thinned to the point of gauntness over the long years, shoulders stooped from endless days of pouring over dusty tomes in search of answers. His worn face was set in grim determination, and the visitors guessed that he was still a potent wizard, perhaps even an arch mage, to still be alive and valued by the House.
"With all do respect, Wizard Vornas, how old are you?" the tiefling said suddenly, cocking his handsome head and observing the aged drow with a hint of amusement in the burning red orbs he called eyes. He suspected Vornas held more power than just being a wizard—an advisor, perhaps?
"I have seen six hundred and fourteen years, Lord Themos Eath'en. Not once in them thus far have I permitted a surface dweller to patronize me, and I do not expect to begin now," Vornas said, his voice deep and surprisingly rich. Matron Jysfryn smiled at the House Wizard's blunt response—such frankness was one of the things that made him so useful to her. And it was endearing, after listening to priestesses twist words all day in an effort to gain her favor.
The tiefling, Themos, was obviously a bit affronted at such a response but fascinated as well. Surface sages had always assumed that the drow optimum lifespan was around five centuries, and yet here was an example of them living even longer. It was the half-elf woman, Lady Náriel of Stormfell, who gave voice to these thoughts. "Master Vornas, I thought that drow could not live that long."
The wizard snorted. "Most drow do not live through their first century. But you are correct in a sense—those who survive to five centuries have often outlived their usefulness and lost the ability to hold their many enemies and rivals at bay. Those that do not die fighting Lolth's enemies or kill themselves end up on the goddess's altar almost every time. However, the Matrons of House Despana have been quite generous and seem to have found uses for me, thus I endure where others have perished," Vornas said.
"I would be hard pressed to lose the most powerful arch mage Yvoth-Lened has ever seen," Matron Jysfryn said.
"Such flattery is undeserved, I assure you," the ancient male drow informed them, waving a gnarled hand dismissively before directing his attention to his sister's descendant. "However enjoyable meeting your guests is, Matron Jysfryn, I do have something I hoped to tell you."
"By all means," the female drow said. "What matter was on your mind?"
"I have found a record that was hidden during the Purging that dates from the middle section of Mayna's reign," Vornas said. "Even your guests might find it of interest."
"Speak plainly," Jysfryn said, but without the frown or threatening tone most Matrons would adopt.
"It appears to be the only complete and detailed account of the Circlet of Heroes and its original owner. I understand she has a great deal of renown on the surface as well as in the Under Dark," the wizard said in Common. "Penned by Alaundriira Drada'Dalharil, Statha Tellanthur d' Qu'ellar Despana."
The dignitaries and the Matron both gazed at him with a reverential hush for a long while. It was Jysfryn who finally broke the silence. "You found her story?" the drowess said, shocked.
Vornas smiled slightly. "So it would appear."