Elandra Sunspear, low-born orphan and warrior-priestess of Corellon Larethian stood amidst the dozen wealthy bachelors of house Ealoeth gathered from across Faerun to present themselves as her future husband; not one showing the slightest interest in her or the prospect of restoring their house’s honor, as she questioned the wisdom of agreeing to this arrangement for the hundredth time that evening alone. They didn’t even notice when she slipped away, letting them continue their argue over who’s role their family’s vast business empire was more important or prestigious. Meanwhile, Darcassan, clearly the least amongst them, sat quietly in a corner watching the others posture and parade to impress themselves more than anyone else while he nursed a cup of wine, until she took a seat beside him on the small couch. Her absence obviously going unnoticed by the others, he greeted her in a mildly amused tone; “It seems to be going well… last time they were all assembled it degenerated into a clash of sword and spell that left the hall in near ruins… but then the nights still young.” “What of you lord Darcassan,” she smiled slyly, unable to deny his humorous take on the gathering, “don’t you have some lofty position or remarkable financial gain to try and impress me with?” “Not at all,” he replied taking a sip of wine. “My only contribution to the family business is in quality control for our wineries and breweries… It’s a hazardous task, requiring a strong constitution and high tolerance to alcohol… which I’ve been cultivating most of my life.” Having finally noticed she’d left the gathered prospects, the elders approached them, Darcassan’s great aunt scowling, as usual; “You’re meant to be familiarizing yourself with the candidates to be your future husband… how will you choose one if you don’t even speak to them?” “They weren’t speaking to me,” Elandra pushed back. “They’re just trying to impress each other. Not one of them even noticed my absence. Besides, I’ve already made my choice.” Everyone of status in Everlund’s elven community had congregated in the Seldarine’s cathedral to witness the most unexpected union in decades. Elandra looked splendid in gleaming mithral mail as she stood before the high priestess of Hanali Celanil, the golden hearted elven goddess of love, to take her vows, before her on the alter lay the dormant Ealoeth moonblade, and beside her stood her chosen groom; Darcassan. The only one of the bachelors who showed any interest in her or redeeming their house’s honor. With the ceremony over, now baring the Ealoeth name, Elandra cautiously reached for the hilt of the sword, knowing that if it rejected her it could strike her dead. Before her fingers touched it, she looked to her side to see Darcassan, her new husband, who she might make a widower in the next heartbeat, stand firmly beside her. Then her fingers closed on the hilt and she raised the sword overhead announcing; “I claim thee in the name of house Ealoeth… you will serve me… and Corellon Larethian.” Suddenly what had been a dull steel blade with a grey stone in its pommel, flashed with brilliant light; now gleaming like silver as its pearly white stone glow with an inner light. Then the brilliant light focused into a single point on the blade at the end of the line of runes, as a new one was born. The Ealoeth moonblade had awaken… now empowered as a holy blade… to the thunderous cheers of the congregation.