The gate to the noble mansion swung open slowly, and the welcome committee might suddenly seem more than a little overdone. The envoy was a lone visitor, with no carriage or wagon. She pulled a horse loaded with baggage and empty saddlebags that might have contained food for the journey after her. Overall, while the wild elf was everything that the subspecies of elf embodied, she was also alone, and both muddy and dusty from the long journey. Though the western kingdom presented a threat, the clear subtext here was that it was a lot easier for them to conquer by diplomacy than march an army through the extensive swamplands that separated the kingdom and this noble's lands.<br/><br/>The wild elf halted only a few steps into the courtyard. Either she was unaware of traditional gestures such as greeting the lord and lady of the house, or she was more concerned with her own goals. She remained still, taking in the courtyard and buildings around her meticulously, almost as if she was preparing a mental plan. If she had not been alone, a wary lord might start to worry if she planned a fight. As it was, it was likely that she was just a little paranoid. A diplomatic envoy to an enemy far from the home plains.<br/><br/>Information was sparse about the wild elves, especially outside their native plains. This one lived up to all the rumors, though. Tall, a good deal over six feet, and broad as well. Bulky, almost. Muscled, and in accordance with the almost legendary aggression and propensity for military service of her kind, scarred to boot. Warm, angled brown eyes, a nose that looked to have been broken once, hair that bordered between brown and red, and perhaps most prominent of all, overshadowing the wispy, ethereal beauty of most elves, a groove of a scar running from the woman's left cheek and all the way up into her hairline. Once a gruesome wound, now simply a horrible reminder, and not something to endear her to any court.<br/><br/>Then again, the wild elf gave the impression of caring very little for balls and intrigue. She wore simple, heavy traveling clothes. Dull, dusty browns and greys, as well as a heavy cloak with a hood that covered her head but not her face, for now. It was build that marked her as a soldier and wild elf, her longer lifespan giving her the time to hone herself into the sort of killing machine that most men only approached for a few of their best years. In armor, the wild elf would in all likelihood be a force to be reckoned with. Traveling through more or less hostile lands for over a month, however, did not lend itself to armor. As such, she carried only a buckler and one-handed sword at her belt, and a spear that looked to be less than 2 yards longer than she was tall in the hand that was not busied by the horse's reins.<br/><br/>When a servant approached to take the reins of her horse, Elwen's lips parted and a sharp hiss came out. She let the spear lean against her form, reaching up to push the hood back. The cloth fell away, revealing a peculiar cut. One side of her head was near-shaved, the other had but a few inches of hair. Certainly not ladylike. Those that knew of the habits of wild elves, however, knew that they shaved their hair before going into battle. For this elf to have several inches, it would have been a while since she last went into battle. If their aggression was true, she'd be spoiling for a fight.<br/><br/>At last, though, the elf decided to allow the bowing, scraping servant to take the reins of her horse, the warm color of her brown eyes perhaps having deceived the man into thinking her a nobler, calmer being than she turned out to be. Those eyes were locked on him throughout the process, in all likelihood watching for some kind of challenge. The wild elves had an unusual, prodigious birthrate, larger still than humans. For reasons unknown, however, this had created an extremely warlike society where bloodsport was commonplace and death was a daily companion. Envoy or not, someone who had risen to be in a position to represent the neighboring army had in all likelihood participated in and won more than her fair share of these many disputes.<br/><br/>Though covered in the trappings of civilization, the elf moved as her plain-living tribe did, tall and proud. On her way from the gate, she stopped more than once to stare down a guard, however, lengthening the already, by normal standards, embarrassing welcoming ceremony further. There was a particular, long moment of baited breath when the captain of the house guard did not seem interested in deferring to Elwen, the wild elf visibly tensing, grinding her teeth and flaring her nostrils before turning on her heels from the captain to, at last, present herself to the family.<br/><br/>She stood for a few seconds, intense, angled eyes boring into each noble in turn, seeming to spend an agonizingly long time on the diminutive future bride of her commander. The elf's face revealed nothing, no slight creases to indicate a smile, no scowling, nothing. She looked, and then, at last, bowed her head to none of them in particular.<br/><br/><i>"The Deshen sends his respects, my lord and lady, and so does my master, Commander Essendra. I am Elwen Ishalath, envoy of the throne, the Commander's representative. The Commander shall be here in a months time, once preparations have been made. In the mean time, I hope to be able to clarify any questions, and lead any negotiations on the Deshen's and Commander's behalf."</i><br/><br/>The Deshen, the king of the human/wild elf land that this envoy was from, did not care about this noble family in any other sense than that they were another plot of land to conquer. That much had been obvious from the start. Rather than fight, a high-ranking, loyal military person had been chosen to marry into the family and thus fulfill both the kingdom's requirements of slow assimilation, and the family's desire for safety. The notion of questions and negotiation, too, was a little ludicrous. It was a matter of practicality that this chance was extended, not ability. The famous triad of elven cavalry, elven shock troops and massed human archers might have descended without warning if not for the natural barrier presented by the swamp. They still might, if things did not go as expected.<br/><br/>Elwen raised her head again. She struggled, quite clearly, to show respect to these people rather than challenge, her tone wavering a bit as she spoke.<i>"I should like to delay proper greetings until tomorrow with your blessing, my lord and lady. The road has been long, and rest sparse."</i><br/><br/>The wild elf's eyes shifted to Petra, then, adding:<i> "And you might send the bride-to-be to my quarters later on, if you would be so kind. There is much to discuss, preparations to begin."</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>