Rolf stepped down from the carriage.  They had come far enough out into the country that towards the end of the journey the ride had roughened up some.  Most of the party made their way toward the boat ahead of him, but Rolf looked behind to see the last remainder in the carriage.  She was a tall Elvish woman, her supernatural beauty irreparably marred by a brand burned into her face.  It was a crescent, like a moon, each corner overlapping one of her eyes as the arch went across her forehead.  Her clothes were woolen, with a conspicuous lack of leather and bare feet.  Rolf noted that at dinner she had not touched any meat, either.  She carried a hand-and-a-half sword with a worn wooden grip and scabbard.  She tucked this into the sash around her waist as she stepped down and past him without a word, heading toward the boat and the others.  She unnerved him a little, but every elf he had met had that effect.  There was something inherently magical about them that those attuned to the arcane couldn't help but pick up on.  

Rolf followed her, coming to walk next to her as confidently as he could manage, and met up with Bergoda, whose talkative nature he preferred.  

"Alright," he went all out and kissed the railing as he boarded.  "I'll defer to you on boat rituals, but say, if you tell me where the best breeze should come from... might be we'll see it happen," he finished with a wink.  

The boat's apparent owner was setting about his work, but spared Bergoda a smile and an answer, "[i]Wavehalk,[/i] though she sees more river travel than on actual waves these days."