When you are about two minutes away from the fort you are finally spotted as a shout of “Someone’s approaching!” can be heard, although the lookout tower remains empty. By the time you are walking around the earthen walls they are lowering their gate. Or maybe a draw bridge, you are not sure: it seems to be a weird combination of the two, a solid sheet of wood, impossibly to craft by hand, not attached to the walls, they are far too unstable to hold it, and instead held in place by two thick wooden stumps it is presumable slanted on. To open it they simply push it forwards.<br/><br/>You walk across the lowered wood carefully, worried that your metal encased feet may superficially damage it, but your elven grace allows you to avoid doing so. Behind the walls are a series of structures, ranging from little more than tents with wooden support to actual buildings with solid walls and clay roofs. In front of you is a group of individuals, 20 civilians and almost just as many armed guards, who are moving forwards towards you, spears raised but ready. Their equipment is mismatched, but it all bears the same unmarked maroon banner.<br/><br/>“Hold it,” a man with sandy hair and the beginning of a bird on his chin steps forwards, motioning to the guards. He is dressed in orange garbs underneath a bettered breastplate, a shield strapped to his right arm. “You do not look like one of the forest kin, they would never wear so much metal. You are a mess child, what happened to you?” behind him the crowd parts to reveal a group of four: three females and male, all dressed in good equipment and sporting large backpacks who look at you just as curiously but do not move from their position.