“May I join you friends,” the dandyish stranger announced more than ask as he plopped into an empty chair beside Syn. Torryn had noticed him eyeing them from the bar most of the evening; he would have passed for just another Waterdhaven flop out to brag that he bagged some form of big game in the deep dark forest if he hadn’t been so well practiced at it. “You’ll find we’re particular about who calls us ‘friend’ in this forest,” Torryn greeted him curtly, signaling Syn and Ytharra to be on guard. “Very well then… we’ll dispense with the pleasantries,” the intruding sun elf conceded, assuming a more serious tone; “I’m Darcassan Ealoeth… a name which I’m sure marks me as a villain in your eyes… but I ask you to hear me out before having me thrown out,” he all but pleaded. “I obviously know who you are… and what the elders of our houses have decreed regarding your marriage to my cousin Haryk as part of their convoluted plot to acquire an active moonblade to feign that there’s still honor in our bloodline… proof that there isn’t in my opinion. However, what my elders haven’t shared with yours, or anyone for that matter, is why they are so desperate to acquire a sword of scion. You see ours, which did fall dormant centuries ago, was… how should I put it… ‘misplaced’. According to information I recently uncovered, when the last wielder of our house’s moonblade passed, but no worthy heir could be found to claim it, the sword was entrusted to a cleric of Corellon Larethian, for safe keeping he took the sword to an ancient silver dragon who laired in the Star Mounts. You may be aware of the legend from there… it’s what gives this inn its name. The silver dragon vanquished a pair of young red dragons that were terrorizing the forest but perished of its wounds in its lair… which has never been found to this day. I believe that if my house’s moonblade can be recovered we might be able to find… or breed… a worthy heir ourselves. Which, of course, would mean we wouldn’t need you and yours.” “So, you decided to go on a quest to recover the sword out of an abundance of dedication to your house,” Syn snarked, not sure she could believe a word that came out of his mouth. However, she noticed that Torryn and Ytharra seemed to be considering what he said thoughtfully. “The legend of the silver dragon is well known here,” Torryn confessed with clear reservations, “and it is possible that the sword could be hidden in its hoard as it has never been found. But none of that explains why you are the one to seek it… do you consider yourself a worth heir to it?” “Hardly!” Darcassan exclaimed, admitting, in the first true words he’d spoken; “I’m more likely the least worthy candidate in all of house Ealoeth… a confessed rogue, all around cad and womanizer fairly renowned in the seedier circles of Everlund. For which I’m, admittedly deservingly, on the cusp of being disowned. However, if I return my house’s moonblade, all sins will be forgiven, I’ll be hailed as a hero and likely allowed to retain my occupancy of what was previously one of house Mistrivvin’s nicer abodes… not to mention there’s an unplundered dragon’s hoard out there just begging to be taken!” Syn couldn’t believe that Torryn would take anything the Ealoethian flop said at face value and was relieved when he replied; “I know someone who may be able to verify that the legend is actually true… a fey who has lived in the wood near here for centuries. If there was a silver dragon who laired in the Star Mounts, and its lair has never been found, we may agree to help you find it.”