I sat in a chair, inside the great hollowed hall of the elven enclave Kheiblah-Ur, watching drops of rain run intricate interlocking paths down the room’s stained glass windows. Around me, the elven council debated (not for the first, nor the last time,) the ethical ramifications surrounding my travels.

My experience with these selfsame elves in the past, present, and future, have lead me to the following conclusion. Elves will sit in council about almost anything. Since they are practically immortal, they have the time to ensconce themselves for decades; clearing their throats and looking all knowing, without the bothersome worry of ever having to come to any real conclusion.

If it weren’t for their chocolate covered baked goods, their pretentious, meddling, interloper nature would be practically intolerable.