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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Phoenix" data-source="post: 2398937" data-attributes="member: 16166">Like a sentinel overlooking his wards, the elderly elven mentor, Vulgrath, stands amongst the fields of blue wheat that sways in the sewer pipes' gentle breeze.  As Taran and Ghost look down upon the dozens of workers that scamber across bridges, up and down ladders, and wander lazily across the fields below, something seems...different.The community looks, healthier.  To Ghost it is strange to see a group of people this large working together with a common purpose that doesn't involving screwing people or being forced to work.  To Taran the entire village seems to glow with a new inner life, empowered by something that seems to be effecting the people of his home.They smile, they laugh, it seems as though they do not have a care in the world.Climbing down to the world under Metropolis, Ghost's eyes rest on Vulgrath and he realizes that he has never seen an elf this old before.  It was whispered on the surface that elves were an immortal race, never growing old, never dying.  It seems that perhaps the surface simply never have the chance to grow old before somebody slips a sword into their ribcage.Over one arm the elf has bulky sling that his arms rests within, supporting its weight so as not to hurt him any further.  Taran looks at the elderly manconcerned about what has happened in his absense that would have wounded his mentor.By his side a small girl clutches his robes as if her life depended on it.  Dressed in farmer's garb that was to big for her by far, Ghost immediately recognizes her through the scarring around her mouth and the loss of her hair.He had finally found Stephanie Zimmerman.</blockquote>

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