There Is No Accounting For Drow

This is the account of Ari’an’pyoro Tyranea as written by her friend and acquaintance, Berenwinkle Corynor, proud gnome and “former” priest of Gond. And I say “former” only because I was stripped of my duties at the Shrine. I still am a devout worshiper of Gond. But that is a story for another time. Currently I am here to relate to you what little I know of the mysterious drow named Ari.

My family and I had been living in the District of the Poor in Procampur for a handful of years when I had the pleasure of first seeing Ari. Back then I worked as many odd jobs as I could get down on the docks. With business being so great the need for more pairs of hands willing to work at a low price was never ending. I cannot say that the pay was fair but it put bread on the table and that is what counts.

It was a fair day at the docks nigh midsummer when a few passenger boats came into port. I was directed to go see to the cargo needs of a small ship coming from the Dragon Coast. I was about to set foot on the gangplank when a body was hurtled my direction from the boat. I ducked aside, hoping it would appear that I was minding my own business. Upon straightening up I couldn’t help notice the person that had been ejected so violently from the boat was a mere girl, on the cusp of adulthood, but not just any girl, she was a drow.

I had never seen a drow before in my life up until that point, though I had heard tales, tales of the blood thirsty, under-dwelling race akin to the elves. Their men were strong, yet their women much stronger and if you met one you should turn tail and run for they will kill you. It was quite a shock, as you can imagine, to see this “fearsome creature” before me. She was scrawny, dirty, her clothes were torn and one of her eyes was swollen shut. She barely looked like she could put up a fight, much less kill anyone. I watched in fascination as she picked herself up, shouted a word or two at the boatmen in a language I didn’t understand (though they sounded obscene), spit on the dock and hobble off. I wondered for a moment what would become of her before turned back to the task assigned to me.


It seems I didn’t have to wonder for long about the strange drow. About a ten-day after Midsummer I began to hear about certain rumors circulating around my district. They all seemed to involve this drow who had been thrown out of every tavern in town, just for the color of her skin. The rumors never said anything about her killing anyone, though they all said that she had malicious intent. A couple of stories made it sound as though she had tried to charm her way into the taverns but when she failed to pay for her food, or when they noticed the color of her skin, she was immediately evicted. It surprised me that no one had tried killing her for her social stereotype alone. That was until I heard a rumor that I found to be incredibly fantastic. The story went that one of the higher middle-class families had felt threatened by the presence of a drow in their district so they hired a few thugs to go and take care of her. They caught her sleeping in a dark alleyway and proposed to make short work of her, but when morning came, they had all been punched blind and lame and the drow was nowhere to be found.

All these stories about the drow and more reached my ears through my son, Zook. He was obsessed with the dark elf and would proudly tell anyone that he knew everything there was to know about her. He idolized her. He claimed that she was not a killer as so many people believed, but the general fear of her was not to be quelled. I cautioned my dear son to discontinue his great speeches on the subject of the drow to everyone he met. Our family already had enough of a reputation. I also told him that his words did nothing to benefit his idol. I comforted him with the thought that he could still come to me and talk about the drow but instructed him that he was not to go out of his way to gain any new information. Zook was such an impulsive child, highly curious and imaginative. Such a description may seem to apply to all gnomes but Zook was exceptionally so. The curiosity I will admit, he got from me, for though I didn’t dare tell him I relished every piece of information he gave me about this stranger to our city. Everything we knew about the drow made it evident that she was quite resilient, determined, and resourceful. Which is why I was surprised to learn one day that she had moved into the Poor District.