The Hamster and Sparrow - one of the most popular inns in all Azuron - is abuzz as always; a trading ship from Avalon arrived at port in the early moning, so the place was busier than normal, and the rooms echoed with laughter. Other than the sailors and the regular patrons, there were two others in the room. One was somewhat of a seasonal regular: he came by every winter, then disappeared with the thaw. 'Mad old Thalic,' they called him: he was a trapper from the mountains, though as he aged he found the colder months hard to cope with - with food scarce and all - so he would sell skins in the warmer months to earn lodgings at the Hamster and Sparrow. Perhaps the most striking feature was how protectively he guarded his walking stick: there did not appear to be anything different between it and the next fallen branch, but that is probably how he earned his name.
Thalic usually travelled alone, or at least in the city - they say he was brought up by bears and spoke to animals - but this time he was accompanied by a stranger. From the way they acted together, they seemed to be well aquainted, but the oddest thing was that this stranger always wore a heavy, black, hooded cloak. Despite their best efforts to hide their identity, their mannerisms gave away that they were a woman; odd lumps in the hood suggested elven too. Thalic had always been quite the loner, so the regular patrons were a little surprised to see him with another, but were not about to approach him themselves: they just left the couple be.
One night, after all had left the bar, Thalic and his friend retired to their shared room.
"Thalic," whispered a gentle, feminine voice, "that staff you always carry with you is most intriguing: would I be able to look at it?"
"No!" Thalic quickly replied, "I never let anyone else touch my staff: it's mine until the day I die!"
"Of that I am sure," she replied soothingly. "Thalic, you know me. Where am I going to run off to with your staff? It is just you and I, in this room: what could happen?"
"Well," he muttered, "I suppose you're right."
With that, he handed her the staff. At first she seemed to examine it, but as Thalic raised his hands, as if pleading the return of his treasured item, it began to change. The staff seemed to become fluid, then the imperfections in the wood smoothed out; then it seemed to change from wood to the blackest obsidian. Finally, two cruel blades grew out of it: one from each end. With a look of horror across his face, he began to speak:
"Wha...Mórie? What have you d..."
His question was cut off however, as the woman swung the staff back to slit his throat.
"You have no right to use my name, Atan; Esses Cioluth, Tear of the Moon, is now mine, and with it all Moriquendi shall bow before me!"
With that, she opened the window, and looked up into the sky. Emerging from the clouds was a full moon: the glow of which shon brightly into the room, revealing the deathly-pale skin of the elf even under her cloak. Suddenly, as if she had never been there at all, she disappeared, then suddenly reappeared on a nearby rooftop. Looking towards the Forgotten Fortress a short distance to the north, she saw the banner of the current High Lord - Elric Elkarson - fluttering in the wind.
"Calequendi," she muttered, "lúme fíra!"
__________When morning came, the Innkeep found the body when he entered the room with the wake-up the woman had requested. Immediately he called the guard, who began investigating, and questioning the patrons. Before too long, an armoured figure entered the room: the insignia over their breast identified them as a Knight of the Forgotten Order. With one hand resting upon the pommel of their sword, they carried themselves as a veteran; spotting the guard, they moved towards them. Immediately recognising the figure, the Captain of the Guard saluted them, and gave his report.
"Hail, Councilor Nicodemus," he began, "We have a muder here: some poor trapper from the woods has had his throat torn out by a jagged blade. He was reported to be travelling with an elf in a black cloak, and the only possession missing is a walking-stick - hardly seems like much of a robbery to me though."
"An object is not always how it seems, do not forget that, Captain," replied the Paladin. "An elf you say? There are no native elves in Azuron: that should make them easy to spot. I'll ensure word is out immediately: we'll show them how we treat murderers."
With that, he turned and strode out the door, his white cape flapping in the gentle breeze, proudly displaying his allegiances.