[center][i][h2][color=#dd5419]Calariel[/color][/h2][/i][/center][hr]
From a distant hill, Calariel wondered where the fort was.

Perhaps Angfort had one at some point, but it had been destroyed. This was not a safe part of the world. She'd nearly run into goblins one night of her journey. Perhaps the name was simply meant to give a greater impression than was actually warranted. Regardless, Calariel was struck by how small the place was, and how remote. She was not someone who needed constant interaction with others (quite the opposite, in fact), but living in such a place seemed lonely, and cold, in more ways than one. She studied the layout of the village from afar for some time, until she felt she had it more or less memorized. This was a very old practice for Calariel, one she was quite good at by this point.

She stood out in the village, and not even because of her eyes. Her mail glimmered, the craftsmanship of a higher quality than most of these villagers had ever seen. There were no elves here, apart from the one she'd observed entering before her, Aelintaur Anrandir, she'd caught. Calariel dismounted some distance down the little street from him, at just about the inner limit of what she could see clearly. The elf and a halfling girl were speaking with a man imprisoned in a cage.

Calariel rested a leather-gloved hand on her horse's neck. [color=#dd5419]"Stay, please,"[/color] she whispered, and then ventured several steps closer. The thought crossed her mind to introduce herself, but Calariel's instinctive tendency was to watch and listen from afar, and so she did, folding her hands neatly in front of her, and standing halfway concealed behind an empty card at the side of the road.