As loathe as Kaite was to set foot in the grime of the old wars, mud and ashened salt cast across the desolate land certain to cling to her boots, she felt it wouldn't be fair to force her burden upon the so-far faithful steed. Whispers inside her helmet jeered at the mangled, sun-bleached bones of fallen soldiers and likely innocents as well. Daisy chains of skeletons clutching swords buried in another skeleton's chest shamefully worked a small chuckle to join in the chorus of laughter, though all fell silent as she directed her gaze to the gates beyond the fetid moor.
It was admittedly disgusting to imagine paradise set in the center of such a mess, but Kaite supposed the moat of death to be a substantial warning for those undeservingly curious of the treetops that poked out from over the gated walls.

Guards stood at cautious attention as the cloaked figure lead their horse to the gate, the glint of a beaked black helmet poking from the hood. Kaite had little reason to ever set foot inside, and it showed in her voice which she composed to sound more confused than unnerved. [color=a187be]"I was...summoned?"[/color] she said with a slight turn of her head, a statement that was met with the gates opening without a word. She stepped forward after a moment of hesitation, leading the horse in tow and offering a small [color=a187be]"Cheers"[/color] to the armored figures who watched with suspicion as she hoisted the webbing of belts toating her swords and shield onto her back.
Stepping into the lush, lightly wooded land, Kaite finished relieving her mount of its pack of provisions which she slung over her shoulder in the same motion of pulling the saddle off. [color=a187be]"Yeh, [i]git![/i]"[/color] she barked, giving the creature a gruff bump in the shoulder to direct it to the field, an invitation it accepted without a moment to consider. The half-elf assumed an edition to the fauna would be the least of the council's concern, and dumped the old saddle off to the side of the path as the beast's indentured servitude was no longer her concern. However, Kaite couldn't help but watch the horse trot over to join in the grazing with a glint of distant fondness within the deep darkness of the visor.

After getting a few unnerved looks from passing elves, the half-elf determined the company was friendly enough to at least [i]try[i] not to be so creepy. This notion was especially bolstered after bumping into one of the servants and scaring them off with a clawed black gauntlet emerging from the tattered black cloak to catch a clay jug of wine that was nearly dashed on the cobblestone. Watching them hurry off to the silent hisses of the voices commenting on her having [color=black]'lovely eyes'[/color] and [color=black]'how dare that ignorant cow!'[/color], Kaite shook her head and unclipped the helmet.
Brushing back their hood and freeing herself from the screams of protest in her head from the armor's hold, she held the helmet under her arm. Wavy shoulder-length golden blond hair fell back into place, veiling crystal blue eyes for as long as it took for a finger to brush it back behind short yet pointed ears save for a few errant bangs. Kaite could have probably passed for an elf if it weren't for her ears and how she towered above most of the women at 6'5 with the extra inch of her now sodden ink-black boots that clicked across stone as she made her way up the hill.

While Kaite had anticipated on not being the first to arrive, the audience at the crest of the hill was a bit sparse for what she'd hoped for and filled with face's she would have rather blended into a crowd to avoid. 'Living under a rock' could have described her knowledge of other lands well enough, as she cared little for news and stories. As such, the Storyteller didn't register in the shadow of Sadron and Arandur who appeared to be 'yukking it up' with them.
Kaite stood awkwardly in her ragged cloak obscuring the rest of her traveling attire, burdened with pack and tools of destruction slung across her back while a single black, clawed gauntlet politely held the forgotten and untouched jug of wine.