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Message: <blockquote data-quote="whardell" data-source="post: 5509086" data-attributes="member: 6669032">You arrive at the entrance camp just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you are met, as expected, by the elves guarding the entrance to the valley.  Camp probably doesn't do this area justice, village is probably more accurate, but all of the residents are trained warriors.  It is layed out in standard elven design, those that are able find their housing in the trees, there are a fair number of tents as well.  A nearby hill has been excavated to house the largest building, a combined inn, taphouse, meeting hall, general store it is simply referred to as "The Hill".Everything is at once inviting and easily defensible, very much the style of elves.Bouda's expectations of warmth and high regard are met, indeed exceeded.  Fewer even that Bouda had been led to believe escaped High Rock, and apparently many that did have since fallen to illness and plague.  They seem to have mixed feelings, they respect your knowledge of the elf culture, and certainly value your experience outside it but there is an underlying current that seems sad or regretful, likely just the being reminded of Highrock.Xaal's status as a Knight of a respected order keeps dealings with the elves civil, they clearly do not have much experience with Tieflings.  Some cast you glances that are clearly curious, but none strike up with incessant questioning that you have come to associate with Eladrin.  Nobody is rude, or in anyway less than polite but you are clearly an outsider.You are able to resupply here, and find space in the hill easily enough the food is simple but well prepared.  You hear many tales of the Mist that Crawls and the other dangers of the area.  You are able to confirm also that Moonwolf did indeed pass through just a couple of days ago.  Like Halfelves, Mul are prized for their ability to bridge the gap between other species and the dwarves. Bouda, the guard captain, Tilvanus Silverleaf pulls you aside and presents you with a battered teak box, it was made with great care by someone of great talent but the box itself is a plan thing with no adornment.  Inside wrapped in oil cloth is a longsword that has clearly seen better days.  Its blade had been discolored by heat, and bears many nicks along its edge.  Its style is a mix of the flowing elvish blades without cross guard, and the straight longswords of humans.  The handle has been wrapped with what was once finely tooled leather but is now charred and cracked."We found this in the rubble after High Rock.  It must have been burned in one of the plague pyres.  It called to me, I don't know why.  I have kept it ever since in this case waiting for something.  Tonight I realized I was waiting for a survivor to claim it.  It belongs to you, it always has." The guard captain gets that same sadness that you have noticed amongst so many in your presence.  "Use it well", with that he turns and leaves the box in your hands.The blade seems familiar to you, though you do not recall seeing it before.  You find yourself drawn to the blade, and without conscious thought your fingers brush along its length, wanting to feel its steel and yet afraid it might break.The sword reacts to your touch, in fact it seems to repair itself somewhat, the blade while still soot blackened, looses the heat discoloration and the grip's leather softens.  It appears now as a serviceable if well worn item. [+1 vigilant blade that acts as a magical implement for Cleric Powers.]  If there is anything else you would like to accomplish in town, please post before Monday Evening.</blockquote>

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