As he clambered off the back of the cart, Rish stretched out his aching joints. Even after spending the entire lengthy cart ride without them on, the elf still felt strange without the weight of the heavy iron shackles on his wrists. The Moonwardens had taken those, when they went. There was no need for such things out here. There were no prisons to hold him, in this place where he would live out the rest of his wretched existence. He gazed up towards the rugged splendor of the cliffs. Not a bad place for a holdfast, perhaps, but something had had him feeling slightly uneasy since they arrived nevertheless.

He took a moment to surveil his traveling companions, wondering how they felt about sharing the road with a murderer. The poor devil driving the carriage had probably spent the whole time looking over his shoulder, wondering if Rish would try to kill them all one by one and steal the reins. 

Himself? Rish had no more appetite for violence. That young man's fire had burned itself out of him some time ago, now. Be that as it may, he had no intention of simply allowing violence to happen to him, should it come to that. He stretched out both hands towards the coachman, gnarled and frightened old thing that he was. 

"[color=97c16a]My things, if you'd be so kind.[/color]" His voice sounded strange to him these days, still refined and carefully controlled while his inner thoughts sounded so old and worn, just like the outside of him. "[color=97c16a]I do not much like the idea of you leaving here with them still under your seat.[/color]"

Some of the others were actually introducing themselves, standing in a loose group and looking around at each other earnestly. Rish gave a dry chuckle, thinking back on how quiet the long stretches of their journey out here had been.