The Lady Selune Sent Me, I Think

Pinks and purples paint the sky like watercolor while an orange sun begins its retreat behind the horizon. A heavy scent of wet earth fills the nose of the Tiefling woman, giving way to leather boots finding themselves stepping through muddy cart tracks that lead the way into the town of New Haven. Her eyes glance down for just a moment, catching the rippling image of herself in the puddle and then quickly looking back up to see the stone and wood buildings through the main gates.
The travel thus far was a silent one as she poured over her thoughts with every step they had taken to reach the town. Alexa and Solus had left the group, and now the party consisted of herself, Captios, Rolf, Ozy, and Gig. A hand twitches for just a moment at the thought of the others leaving the party. It wraps tightly around the handle of Wraeth, pulling it up and propping it over her shoulder. “New Haven.” She mumbles, red eyes flickering over her shoulder as the others step beside her.
Syn steps forward, her boots sloshing through the muddy tracks as she walks. The gates open to a bustling town, for what it’s worth out here in bumfuck nowhere. Her eyes scan the area, watching people go about their lives, some turning to stare at the new faces that have entered, some slinking away back into their conversations. Simple life, simple folks.
I wonder if they know that they all might die? That the world might end? She thinks to herself as eyes lock on to a mother and a toddler. The woman scoops the child up and rises her into the air. Innocent laughs drift through the town street as the mother puts the small child on her shoulders.
The voice of Solus runs through her head.
"Because you just care about how THIS effects YOU, Syn"
The voice fades and a lingering roar from the release of Reth plagues her mind.
A breath escapes her, turning to look back at the others. “I guess we should… get to the Tavern? Food, drink? Talk about where the hell we go from here?” Her voice trails off for a second as she rummages through her leather coin purse. “Well, fuck that grand plan. I’m broke.” She sneers. “Decaying dumplings and bad plans it is unless you all have been holding out and are carrying some coin? Or a good plan?”
Squash, squash, squash; Rolfs boots create a suction to the earth but each step priest the union asunder untill the next faithful step lands.
The sun setting paints a beautiful picture. Moments like this should be treasured. They lived through another day. That's no small task. Especially with the shit that they have gone through. It's only been a few weeks since his family was lost at sea but it feels like ages. Having grown up in freeport, Rolf has missed the hustle and bustle of living around people. The comfort of a warm bath to sooth his aches and pains. One that doesn't feel like his soul being lit on fire. It's a rather uncomfortable feeling. The parties silence thus far is understandable. Alexa and Solus had left during that night in the cave. The party was never jovial in a traditional way but, recent events have put a dark and somber cloud over the group.
Slowly as the group gets closer to New Haven the "road" is becoming more packed with people and homes. These people don't deserve what might happen to them. They want to live good lives, find happiness, and see the next day; the urge to protect these people grows inside Rolf. They are unable to help themselves right now. They probably lack the knowledge and power needed to protect themselves. Some Rolf shared in till recently.
Rolfs mind drifts to Captios' plan of revolution. Adjusting the scales and putting agency back into the mortal races instead of letting them be chess pieces to be used and sacrificed again and again and again. An anger slowly builds inside Rolf at the idea of being used as a tool in someone's game. Shifting his thoughts to the Doctors inhuman treatment of himself and the members of his party causes sparks to start to form around his hands. The sound of static being drowned out by the hustle and bustle of people but it's deafening to Rolf. Bzzzzzzz...
Syns words about food, shelter, and hopefully a stiff drink break the deafening buzzing and causes the static to discharge. "That's the best idea I've heard all day. I've got some coin on me but also would like to go to the market and try to sell some things. I've got a few family contacts in the area who might be helpful for buying and possibly selling us goods we might need."
Rolf shifts around his backpack moving maps and inks around. Taking out his rope and a couple of water skins he finally finds an empty little sack. Loads up 10 gold coins in it and ties it together in a tight bowline knot. A remnant skill of his life that seems so long ago now. Rolf then quickly loads his pack back up.
"Does anyone want to come to market with me? Could be a bit of fun before an evening of festivities?"
Rolf tosses the coin pouch to Syn "take these and go get the party and yourself some dumplings. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for all of you guys keeping me this way."
"We can all meet up in 2 hours at a Tavern if you guys would like? Does anyone recommend one in particular?"
Syn’s eyes catch the faint lightning emanating from the hands of Rolf. They flicker and arch around his palms in a blue light. As quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, and she is left wondering what he is thinking. Another moment in thought as her attention is pulled more to the man standing before her. His appearance changing slightly since his arrival into the group when him and the bronze dragon arrived at the fester lands. Watching him dig around his backpack, tossing a small sack of coin her way. Her free hand rises and catches it out of the air. “Oh, uh.. thanks.” Red eyes blinking down at the coin in her hand. “I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not one for negotiating prices nor do I have anything to sell in my bag.”
Syn tucks the small bag of coin away before reaching out and grabbing the arm of a passerby. “Hey.” She says abruptly, the young man recoils his arm back with eyes wide in fear. “For fucks sake, relax. Trying to find the tavern.” A shaky hand lifts from the man’s side and points just down the road to a building shoved between two others. Syn’s eyes follow where he’s pointing, her gaze settling on a weathered wooden sign that hangs above a door. ‘The Old Lantern’. “Neat.” Her hand lets go of the man’s sleeve and he quickly stumbles away.
“There you go. The one down there.” She nods, proud of herself. “You guys can go buy what you need to at the market, you know where to find me.” She pauses for a moment. “If you get into a fight, well... make sure you win, then just meet us back at the Lantern.” She smirks at them, turning on her boots to start walking towards the newly found Tavern down the muddy road. “Ozy?” She tosses a wave behind her shoulder insinuating him to tag along. No response. Her teeth clentch for a moment, turning her head to look back at the other tiefling. “FOOD Ozy, lets go.”
As Rolf starts to walk away, Captios runs after him, "Rolf wait up, I'm coming with!"

A while later --

Night has fallen as Captios and Rolf return to the Old Lantern. The streets are still busy, but most residents are starting to return home to their families. Captios follows Rolf into the tavern as they both look around for their comrades. The three infernals sit in the far corner of the tavern with wide berth around them. Given the events of late, it is no surprise that other tavern goers are staying clear of the tieflings in the room. As Captios and Rolf slide into the booth, Captios speaks first.
"Man am I starving, shopping is way more work than I thought it would be. Normally I don't have so many options but Rolf is a master at this haggling game. The man could sell cow dung to a dairy farmer if I'm not mistaken." He proudly shows off his new maroon outfit and black belt. "We got uniforms, Rolf has em in that bag of his. They are fantastic. Perfect for saving the world." His voice quiets at the end there, although the noise in the tavern means that anyone other than Alexa couldn't hear them anyways.
Pop, pop, pop.
Syn watches small bubbles rise to the top of her ale. They float and drift to the sides, sticking to the metal tankard for a moment then dissipating. Her eyes flicker upwards to catch Captios and Rolf walking into the Tavern and taking a seat at the table.
Worn old dark wood of the table thuds as Captios slides into the booth. “And here I though you both died.” She chuckles with a sinister grin.
Pop.
She looks over Captios and his new wears. “Well, much better than the rags you were wearing before. Not that I have much room to talk.” She looks down at her clothing. Rips here and there on the trim and faded blood stains plague the outfit. “I swear to the gods if you brought back a red frilly dress, I’ll shove this tankard up your ass.” Her hand grips the handle of the tankard for a moment. The Tavern was loud with regular folks chatting amongst themselves with a merry buzz in their systems. “Speaking of world saving, we are in a rather shit situation. We were before but now its worse. We need to figure out what to do and where to go. We… don’t have Alexa and Solus….” She picks the tankard up and takes a sip. “It’s just us four now.” She looks over to Gig for a moment between her sip of ale. “I’m not counting you, you’re useless.”
Rolf, feeling uplifted from Captios' compliment, strolls into the tavern and immediately spots his group. Its not difficult as the tavern is packed outside of a "danger zone" that just so happens to be the direct surrounding area of his party.
"Thanks for the Compliment Captios', your knowledge proved invaluable in negotiations and shopping."
Hearing Syns' remark causes a deep belly chuckle. "That's funny Syn; nope not dead yet. I also couldn't find a red dress; Captios almost got you a White dress but we decided to get you something more your style."
Rolf reaches into his pack and picks out the two rapped packages one ties with a red bow and the other with black lace. He tosses the red bow package to Ozy and the black lace one to Syn.
"What do you two think? I had to take some liberties with the sizes and some guesses on the styles but I hope you two like them."
The thrill of giving gifts leaves Rolf in a very merry mood. He is happy that he can start to repay the many favors that he owes due to the actions of the party saving his life.
Seeing a barmaid walk by Rolf motions her over.
"Can you bring over a bottle of something oaky, dark, and sweet. 5 glasses. Also some breads and cheese. Thanks dear."
Rolf slides a gold piece into her pocket as a tip.
Her hand reaches out and catches the package tossed her way, almost spilling her ale in the process. “Something… more my style?” She places the tankard down, tilting her head to the side and gazing down at the gift. This was something new. Syn had never received ‘gifts’ before that didn’t involve some ulterior reason, Wraeth for example.
Syn’s fingers trail across the lace ribbon, tugging at the end and watching the fabrics wrapped within unfurl. Tucked inside where black leather boots, black pants, a black sleeveless tunic, and a deep red sash. “It’s….” She pauses for a moment, brow furrowing as she stares down at the outfit. “Hideous.” She waits a moment, before a small grin forms at the corner of her mouth. “Kidding, It’s nice. Uh…t-thanks.” This is weird and she is clearly uncomfortable in what to do. She slides the ribbon into her backpack and bunches up the clothing. “I’ll try it on later.”
The clothes are set beside her on the bench as she looks up across the table. Rolf confidently ordering food and drink for everyone at the table. “You should be careful throwing around coin like its nothing. You are going to catch the eye of greedy people. A real shame to wake up tomorrow to find your neck slit open and all your belongings taken.” She shrugs, speaking casually about macabre imagery. She leans forward closer to the table. “And on that note, what is our plan moving forward?”
Meanwhile, in the woods outside of New Haven, bare feet were treading carefully over the brush and whorled roots that littered the earth. Abruptly they stopped; the lone elf, haggard and dressed in muck, to which these feet belonged sat to rest themselves by a particularly comfy looking tree. This specimen of a tree had all the lavish accoutrements one could expect: there was ivy, and moss, and a colony of ants; there was dirt and there were rocks and an abundance of leaves. Yes, this was the absolutely perfect of trees. Though while this tree was perfect for languish, the elf sat erect and attentive.
"Vulgrier," came a sharp gutteral sound, "I shall leave you now. Our journey together has come to end. Venture forth into New Haven. Find the profits. Complete the ritual. Ascend into lycanthropy."
Crestfallen, the wood elf, Vulgrier, accepts his mission. "I understand, Wulg, it's been a pleasure, despite the brevity of this decade. I have one question, however: where might I find these profits? New Haven isn't quite a hay bale, but neither is it a prairie."
The lurid, ethereal wolf floating next to Vulgrier laughs—or well, it laughs as well as you might expect from a specter-adjacent. Really it's more of a series of tumultuous growls echoing within Vulgrier's mind.
"You are to be wolf. Track as the wolves do. This too, is part of your journey." with this, Wulg disappears leaving only the elf, now slumped against an otherwise auspicious tree. As if in deciduosity, the elf pries himself from his resting place and slowly makes his way into the city. The hustle and bustle of New Haven is a stark contrast from the wild that Vulgrier had immersed himself in for the past several years.
Where oh where might this strange party be, thinks Vulgrier as he stands amidst a busy street being gawked at by the locals.
While deep in thought, a slovenly dwarf runs into the elf, knocking Vulgrier clean from his station.
"Oi, watch it mate. Ya can't be standin' around like that 're. Get a move on or get lost or both."
Vulgrier looks up from the ground at the dwarf now standing over him. "Apologies sir, but might you have seen any Teiflings about?"
"Bugger off, ain't seen no Teiflings. Go bother a bar if you're searchin' for steam."
Vulgrier wasn't certain what the dwarf was suggesting, but a bar did sound like a better bet than wandering aimlessly. And, if the priests could not be found, Vulgrier might be able to find something stiff enough to debauch his liver, if only for a while. It didn't take long for the elf to happen upon a tavern. He'd certainly been alive long enough to know where to find a drink even among unknown streets.
The Old Lantern, heh, what a pedestrian name., thinks the elf as he throws the tavern door open and strolls in. As he enters, several eyes turn toward him, likely confused by the effervescence of Vulgrier's gait and the confidence in his posture despite the dirty, torn rags that hung loosely from his shoulders and the twigs that nested within his hair.
To Vulgrier's surprise, he wasn't the only one garnering such attention. A small group of humanoids were sitting together over on the far end of the room that seemed to be given a wide berth by those strolling around. When the elf spied the aforementioned, a glint of recognition glanced across his eyes. Ah, so the proverbial teiflings might exist after all.
The elf strolls over to the group as the crowd parts around him. He comes to a stop next to their table and raises his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Hello, my name is Vulgrier Stratavarellia." Each syllable of his greeting: meticulous and eloquent but with a certain hollowness beneath them, as if each time sound escaped his lips they were being wrenched free from the depths of an ossuary. "And I believe you might just be the group that I've been searching for."
Vulgrier smiles, the whites of his teeth shining beneath his grime; cutting the pale purple of the scars that run across his face like his mouth was a gap in the shutters letting in the very first rays of sunlight on a toasty summer morning.
If people were not staring before, they certainly were now. The stranger dressed in torn rags and twigs scattered through his hair introduced himself to the group who sat around eating warm bread and various cheeses. Syn looked up when he spoke his name. She looked him over, picking up her tankard, taking a sip and placing it back down on the table without her eyes leaving his. “Yeah, we are not mercenaries for hire.” She says tossing a hand outward with a ‘shoo’. “Go find someone else to save your tribe or whatever.”
Syn leaned back in the booth, putting her arms up behind her head as she sat in silence for a moment. Alexa was gone and that left an interesting group of people to interrogate answers out of strangers. In some attempt to do what Alexa would do, she speaks once more. “Actually, hang on a second. Who even sent you? It’s not like you just… picked us out of the bar out of sheer luck, and we haven’t been in a town for ages. There are only so many people that would know about…” She stops speaking and just stares at him. “That would know about absolutely nothing because its none of your business.”
Initially engaged in a conversation with Captios about the quality of the parties new robes and finding someone to help Captios let off some steam; the approach of the Elf stalls any conversation being had at the table.
Listening to the initial conversation; Syn is right, it wasn't just dumb luck that brought him here. Rolf, wanting to be cautious of the tracker, but equally curious decides to try and get a little bit of information out of the Elf and maybe dull his abilities a bit.
Rolf takes a sip of of the sweet thick mead that was brought to the table. The mead tasted of industrial airship by-product and had the vicosity of tree sap; but it 100% would get you messed up after a glass or two if you weren't use to this type of drink.
Rolf leans back in the booth to try and match the distance of Syn to be able to whisper:
"This rather unkempt Elf needs a bath but we should hear him out before we send him on the way. Your right to not trust him but we may learn something important."
Rolf leans forward and stands up. He offered up his glove covered hand and reaches out toward the Elf.
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Vulgrier Stratavarellia. My name is Rolf Maxamillian Sievert, from Freeport, and I apologise for the initial hostility. Usually people who would approach a table such as ours are either looking for someone to "take care of something" or might have less than cordial motives towards some of our parties members."
Rolf let's out a hardy belly chuckle. The fact that this elf is ignoring the obvious signs of self preservation the rest of the bar patrons are giving leaves Rolfs guard on high Alert. Having Both Ozy and Syn behind him would usually make him feel less weary of strangers. But that was before he had a lot of coin in his pocket and resurrection stopped working.
"If you would kindly tell us what you desire from us, that would be appreciated."
Rolf motions toward the barmaid to bring another glass. "I think that the time it will take to finish a round should suffice. If we like what you have to say we can always have another."
Captios leans back in his seat as Rolf introduce himself warmly. Crossing his arms, he subtly points to both Rolf and Syn, messaging them silently. Be careful what you tell this guy. For all we know he could be a Candle, like me, sent to figure out wtf is going on. Worse yet, he's been sent by the Celestials or Jacob Whyte. Be ready, just in case. As the elf takes a seat on the outside of the booth, Captios takes a swig of the warm goat's milk he's been drinking. "We don't have a ton of time or patience. Things to do and all. What do you mean by you've been searching for us." Vulgrier's look doesn't match with his confidence, and Captios isn't taking any chances.
All eyes are on Vulgrier as a few members of the rag-tag party at the table in front of him address him in turn.
The pale-skinned Tiefling shoos away Vulgreir only to reconsider and ask "Who sent you?" before listlessly rambling on ; then to a pause followed by a curt crescendo to the effect of ignore everything I have said up until this point. And thusly Vulgrier proceeds to ignore everything she said up until this point.
The well-mannered dragonborn greets Vulgrier and introduces himself as Rolf Maxamillian Sievert. What a pleasant fellow, thinks Vulgrier, truely a paragon of polite society. Rolf goes on to explain that the party of which Vulgrier had just so briefly before been addressing, has not had the best of relations with strangers that would willingly approach them. Rolf then bids Vulgrier to explain what he "desires" of the party.
The youthful human male crosses his arms into a begrudging posture as Vulgrier pulls up a chair to sit at the table. The human speaks curtly. "We don't have a ton of time or patience," he says, finishing his series of statements by bidding Vulgrier to explain why he is here. To Vulgrier's ears, the question comes as more a bother than benevolent. Vulgrier rests his arms on the table, hands clasped in front of him. "Apologies," he says, unclasping his hands and gesturing openly to the group before him, "I had assumed that you had heard of me." Vulgrier pauses, briefly, but not long enough for anyone to speak. This was intentional, of course, as Vulgrier simply didn't care that they hadn't. "My story is ever so long and exciting, but for your sanity I'll summarize." When Vulgrier uttered the word "sanity", his gaze shifted sharply to the human. This shift was not brief. It was pointed and intentional for in his mind, Vulgrier knew that due to the shortness of a human's lifespan they simply could not understand the richness of an elf's life and Vulgrier was worried that it might stir a human's natural fear of mortality.
"I am a servant of the lady Selune", Vulgrier begins, "she, through her thrall, the white wolf, Wulf, has spoken of you all. By our Lady's guidance I was sent to find you, for her pale glow illuminates you each, even if you are, as of yet, unaware. For you see, I am in the final stages of my labors. My last of which being to work with you and aid you toward your goal."
Vulgrier pauses again with a wry smile, "However, I was expecting there to be two more of you. Are they simply yet to arrive?"
Captios turns to meet the elf’s gaze. What a classic elf. He hadn’t met many of their kind, but from what he had heard and seen they were all jerks. Vulgrier’s suggestion of 2 others does however surprise Captios, and he furrows his brow, giving the elf a once over with his eyes. Something Alexa would have done the minute he walked in. I have to get better at this now, he thinks to himself. He pushes that notion to the side and responds.
Speaking now in fluent elvish, he says, “You expected wrong, it is only us. Looks like someone gave you bad information or you’re talking to the wrong group of people. Did the Lady Selune give you any names? And did she mention whatever goal you were to help with? I hope she gave her noble servant more than that." Captios looks away from the Vulgrier and to the cup of milk in front of him. "And by the way, thanks for summarizing your story. We humans have too short a lifespan to fathom the experiences of an elf. My mind would have melted and oozed out of my ears if I had tried to understand.” The words bite with a hint of sarcasm. Sarcasm spoken in an elvish too correct for most humans.
The human responds to Vulgrier's question in a way that shocks Vulgrier: perfectly enunciated Elvish. Each syllable caresses Vulgrier's ears with that salacious satiety that only Elvish can accomplish. Vulgrier's expression softens instantly, the nostalgia of his native tongue washing over him in a torrent of bliss. But the words the human speaks soon snaps Vulgrier back to the present. A thinly veiled sarcasm range out from underneath the end of the human's dialogue; a crisp chime of operatic tones cutting in and out of the melody.
"Bad information?", replies Vulgrier, also in Elvish, "The Lady never lies but neither did she give me names." Vulgrier takes a breath, staring into the distance before continuing,
"For my final labor, Selune gave a perilous request. Spoken through my guide, Wulg: 'You cannot be wolf should this world fall. You must help to save them all.' And to do so I was told of you; an unnatural group of travelers. Two Teiflings with troubled pasts, a con turned Dragonborn, an eclectic Human from Crystallis, a female half-elf with a bravery that belies her, a male reconstructed; more warforged that man..." Vulgrier trails off briefly, "In truth four-sixths of a coincidence isn't much but it was more than I had with any other group I've seen in this city. And lo, when I beheld you here, you were an island within this tavern's sea. Surely this was meeting was divined." Vulgrier's expression drops for a moment, revealing his weariness. He recovers quickly, and returns to a most magnanimous of smiles.
Captios stares at Vulgrier for a second before breaking gaze and looking at Syn. “He speaks accurately of Ford. But he thinks someone in our party is or was a half-elf? Hard to tell. What I do know is…” Captios lowers his voice now to almost a whisper. “He’s from X’antheril. You can tell by his accent. Very Eladrin-like, we had to learn about it during the Candles. Given his current state I’m thinking he’s serious, but he might be pawn in someone’s game.” Captios shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Who the heck are we dealing with here. Everything just feels off.
After a brief pause, the young wizard looks Vulgrier up and down. “If we assume that you were given this information, the information you were correct on is more poignant than that which you incorrectly stated. Either someone fed you half truths, you are lying to us, or you aren’t very good at remembering things. We can rule out the middle one by giving you a truth potion tomorrow. Rolf and I will buy one in the market at daybreak. Short acting but powerful. Think one last time if this is something you really want to do. You can leave the table as you are and we won’t follow, but if we find out you are lying tomorrow, well…” Captios words trail off as he gestures at the two tieflings at the table.
"You could start by telling us right now how old you are and how you got involved with Lady Selune."
"Ah, very good", claps Vulgrier, "I am, in fact, of X'antheril." The words roll off Vulgrier's tongue in crystal clear Common, perhaps with a bit too much gusto. "You may test me as you wish, I only speak what the Moonmaid has bestowed and I am confident in my veracity."
Vulgrier takes a slimy water skin from his hip and takes a swig before returning it.
"As for my age? Why, I am but a spry, early 300s. Though, in truth, I have only seen the Lady's glow for the past decade or so. A terrible accident befell me: a forced exchange at cliff-top into the most graceless of dives. I was beaten and bashed by the rocks and sea until I finally washed ashore days later. Starved and salted, I stared into the full moon, thinking myself dead. It was at that moment when the Lady spoke and her blessing permeated my body with a visceral warmth that I long to feel again. That night she asked for my life; and I gave it thusly. The rest is, but, recent history."
Vulgrier looks around the table at each face seated there, smiling. "I hope that was sufficient for your inquiry."
The stranger at the table spoke in a calculated voice that met her ears with unfamiliarity. It was a touch insulting to sit between two people speaking in tongues that she never had the delight of learning, but Syn sat there with ale in hand, eyes flickering back and fourth between the two until Captios broke his conversation to inform her of what the man had been speaking about. The mention of Ford sent another excruciating reminder through her heart. Another mistake, another figure that had kept her grounded, now gone.
“I see…” She replies in a whispered tone. “It’s strange, but not the strangest thing we’ve come across. I’d highly suggest some caution with this one. I’ve seen firsthand some of the shit the X’antheril elves have been doing.” Syn crosses her legs and leans back once again, eyes drifting back to the elf with a grin as Captios lays down his plan of a truth potion and the glorious prospect of her punching someone in the face.
She catches his smile and cannot help but wonder how genuine it really was. An X’antheril elf taking kind to the likes of us?
“Forced exchange?” She tilts her head to the side as jet black hair tumbles over her shoulder. “Who did you piss off? You’re people? Because If I am being honest, I wouldn’t be shocked by that in the slightest.”
Vulgrier ponders for a moment. "'Forced', perhaps, was the wrong word. I was attacked and sundered from my party on a cold overcast evening by a monstrously large creature—a bird much larger than any man that commanded the weather with a primality that could rival the gods. I know not what became of my former party, but I, alone, escaped into the sea."
"The skies of Arhor'ha are dangerous, that's why we try to avoid going above the trees when we can. If you were from where you say you were, you would have had to travel over the eastern mountains to get to water. There are settlements of Aarakocra up in those mountains. 10 years ago the elves would have been planning alliances. I wonder if you were attacked by them. There were reports that whole tribes were wiped out. Could be the elves that did it in retaliation?" Captios looks at the elf curiously.
"Were you following Lady Selune's guidance when you and your brothers invaded Nexus, enslaving thousands and putting them in death camps to the east? Syn, you mentioned you were in Nexus during the occupation, right?"
Vulgrier shifts cautiously, eyeing the human as he does, before lowering his voice to a soft rasp. "You are correct about the eastern mountains, but do you mean to suggest that the Lady and I would commit such atrocities?" Vulgrier scoffs, "The insinuation itself is apostasy. If X'anthriel invaded Nexus I surely know nothing of it. Once I gave myself to Lady Selune those years ago, I broke all ties with my erstwhile life. That I can guarantee."
The smile is gone from Vulgrier's face, the conversation having soured him.
Swallowing his anger, Vulgrier straightens up once more. "I would urge you to validate my story when you test me with that potion tomorrow."
Finally returning to a more cordial tone, the elf continues, "I am here, as the Moonmaiden has guided me to you all. Though I now see that the onset of my final labor is as perilous as the premise itself. But nevertheless, I shall carry out her will."