Wetting your lips, you once more take stock of your audience, scrutinizing their features. The eyes of these children watch you expectantly, waiting for you to offer them a glimpse of a world that they could only imagine. It is true, that you are strange to them; that much you have already acknowledged. Yet the gravity of your position becomes apparent to you only as you wrack your brain in search of a suitable subject to speak at length of.

You, Jezyrene Delyl, are the sole link between the culture of your people and these impressionable little ones. Raised isolated from their kindred in the Underdark and deprived of the teachings of their ancestors, they are surfacers in all but appearance. These unforeseen circumstances evoke an unusual sensation that radiates out from your chest, a burning need to remedy this error.

"Once, tens of thousands of years ago, when dragons still ruled the Realms, our people came to this world from another and made our home here. We found a place in a far-off land and built a country for ourselves, the ancient realm of Ilythiir," you begin, drawing upon the education that you received in centuries past. "This is why the true name of our people is the Ilythiiri."