<div class="floatleft">(https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/campaigns/14025/assets/677015/843dd3fb92f2a11b6fbb7f0d2d6e91e4.jpg?1482198845)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Valindra</span></strong></span>(http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=989885)<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Elf Eldritch Archer Magus</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">AC: 17 HP: 9/9 Init: +4</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Fort: +3 Ref: +4 Will: +2</span></span><br/><hr/><br/>A large chestnut horse lumbered through the busy streets of Windshire, a thin stripe of white running down the center of a head that bobbed with each step and matching white reaching various lengths up each of its legs. This horse wasn't bred for the task it was currently performing and had been performing for months. It was meant for speed and agility - wind whipping through its mane as it traversed desert battlefields - not the slow, arduous task of cross country travel. Exhaustion and the fact it had been little more than a pack animal for the longest time did little to dampen the animal's spirit though; its head was still held high and there was a natural pomp in the way it trotted. It was, after all, still a horse of Valenar.<br/><br/>Its rider held a similar air of dignity, her posture in the saddle perfect despite the trying trip. Very little could be discerned about the rider mounted atop the magnificent beast, covered as she was. Firstly, the rider was most certainly female; her silhouette being far too slender to be anything else and there was a noticeable, though slight, curve beneath her foreign garb. The scarlet cloth wrapped about her head hid her secrets well but not perfectly, an outline of her facial features left to hint at the beauty beneath and long, pointed ears pressed against the fabric to betray her heritage. The elven woman's pale blue eyes were the only thing left bare to the world and they now danced along the path before her, darting this way and that, studying one face only long enough for her gaze to be noticed before swiftly moving to the next. The last thing she wanted was to give some merchant reason to bother her. As far as she was concerned, humans rarely had anything worth the coin spent outside of food, a bed, and the occasional drink.<br/><br/>A festival. She could gather that much about her surroundings just judging by the merriment on each person's face and the floral aroma hanging heavy in the air. It was a smell that was exceedingly rare to her nostrils and she found offense from it in a way only a desert dweller could. Back home, flowers were few and far between, precious things of beauty to be treasured. But here? They heaped them upon everything, wore them in their hair, even scattered petals across cobblestone. They were flaunting wealth much as their lords and ladies would, squandering resources in a way that left those who had spent their whole life without speechless. Two clicks of her tongue that barely masked her disgust and the horse beneath her quickened its pace to put the spectacle behind them without a single groan of protest or care to the pedestrians standing in front of it. Charging through a throng of people without losing its footing was part of the horse's training; he would be fine.<br/><br/>The leather straps of the horse's reins rested loosely in the woman's lap as the horse's pace slowed before the gate. They were practically a formality at this point; rider and mount had been together long enough that the horse could be guided with either her voice or her legs, assuming it didn't already know what it should be doing. Valindra's acute elven eyes scanned the keep during her approach, her mind already turning toward military matters. The fortification was a pitiful sight, its only saving grace being its location atop the hill but she still figured the town would be lucky to make it to nightfall if faced with a host of her brothers and sisters. Inside the gate, her gaze fell back to ground level, searching about for a pale looking human in ridiculous clothing that would no doubt be a servant. She had business to attend to, trivial as it likely may be, and had no desire to delay things if she could help it.