The Moon Elves of the Elvenstone Tavern

In Toril, the Gods seemed all-powerful. But since they could not enter in their true forms, far too many powerful beings could stop or even wound their avatars and vessels of Divine Descent.

And they could hardly ask Corellon to lead the Elven Gods into a fight to the death over something like this!

There were simply too many demons.

The loss of those territories did not matter much to the Elves. Evermeet was a fine place to live, safe and far from humanity.

But if humans they had once looked down on someday reclaimed the Elven Royal City and renamed it as they had the other cities, Elven pride would have a hard time swallowing it.

Yet the Elves simply did not have the numbers to bear such a staggering cost.

Corellon had probably begun thinking about Faerûn the moment he learned of the Undead.

He knew about that prophecy too!

The Father of Elves might not have said a word, but that did not mean he wanted to watch humans win a crushing victory at the Elves' expense.

It made sense for Toril's World Will to choose Blackstaff's descendants as the World Children who would reclaim the entire Northern Continent. They were, after all, the sole heirs to Myth Drannor.

Even the Elves had to acknowledge that.

If the twins reached the top as Half-Elves, the Elves would have a way to save face and might not intervene.

The Elves were too deeply entangled with Toril's origins. They knew that no matter how they struggled, everything would ultimately lead to the prophecy.

But the Undead had no connection to Toril's origins.

They were utterly unpredictable, beings outside the prophecy.

And Toril never rejected people from other worlds. That was a core law written into its very origins.

Corellon