[h2][b][color=f7941d]Sjalvolki Gorassos[/color][/b][/h2]
Traveling from Orthos to the Bone Sea and then towards Hope Passage was an interesting task for Sjalvolki but not a hard one. The Sun Elf knew every single way and path towards anywhere in Deadwood. Hope Passage was the destination. It was located in the Bone Sea, more specifically within proximity of the Bonewater. Without much delay, Sjalvolki rode his horse towards his goal in the shortest time possible. Main roads were avoided as Sjalvolki preferred to ride along the historical route that his tribe once, and still does, take in their annual migration patterns. Those were normally the safest and quickest way to anything, compared to what others would have taken. In the Bone Sea itself, the Wysaro-Fields was the most traveled pathway for the Sun Elf. It was a sea of just sand and dust, with barely any bones to be seen. An oddity for the Bone Sea since that is its namesake, but the acute heat had caused many animals to avoid this small patch of land. Multiple Sun Elf tribes took the Wysaro-Fields in the upper northern part of the Bone Sea in travel towards Ethos or Orthos. No danger of animals or people here since they would be all dead. The heat itself was no issue either since Sun Elves are known for their extreme adaptation and resistance to the most hellish of heated places. 

Sjalvolki later joined up into a larger caravan near the coastal roads. Normally, Sjalvolki never would do such a thing but he assumed that they were all for the job. So, the Elf rode alongside multiple others. Sjalvolki took a glance at the party, noticing many others. A band of interesting people here, he noted to himself. Before long, Sjalvolki arrived at the camp. The guards stopped the man on top of his horse, spears tipped at him and his beast of burden. Sjalvolki showed the guards the piece of paper, the invitation, from his pockets. The guards nodded and pointed deeper inside the camp. Sjalvolki rode in as the guards processed the others behind him. Hope Passage reminded the Sun Elf of his early childhood, where his tribe would set up temporary camps here and there in their migration pattern. But Sjalvolki had a task at hand to do, and remembering his older memories was not one of them. The Elf beckon his horse to walk towards the large tent within the middle of the camp. 

Sjalvolki jumped off his horse, guiding the horse along inside the encampment. Wishing to not bother anyone with his friend here, Sjalvolki opted to find a nice corner to “park” his horse somewhere. The corner that was not packed with someone was the one that Magdalene was at. In turn, Sjalvolki led the horse to said corner. Thankfully, Sjalvolki had an extremely well-behaved horse, who happens to also be the same age as the Elf as it was his first gift as his birthright in his tribe. 

“Hope you don’t mind my friend here. I just have some trust-issues with people coming near my horse...So, what’s your name?” Sjalvolki opens up to Magdalene, turning to the woman as he places a hand on one of the large bags that the Elf’s horse has. Something is odd about this Elf. His movements are shaky, panicked. At any point, the Elf’s body is moving, twitching, and never at ease. But his voice would say otherwise. It is a smooth and calm voice; a delicate one. Nor does he have a dialect of any sort. The way that he pronounces words is largely on-point with those language manuals used to teach others how to read and write properly if Magdalene saw those before in her life. For appearance, Sjalvolki was a heavily armed and armored person: packing chainmail, a kite shield, a mace, a metal helmet, and a composite bow, along with arrows to the side.