Sir Roland Grey - Fornond, Miracia
The port city of Fornond, Miracia, was much like it was described. Being known for its vast forests, even at the coast, the green of the Miracian trees were planted across the port town's spread out marble buildings. It was beyond beautiful, but it was also strategic. Archers were among the favorite tools of the elves; standard bowmen, longbows, and ballistas hid among the trees to prevent intruders along their shores. It was ironic to Roland. The elves were always peaceful. They detested violence. Yet each tribe in Miracia had much of its own identity. While the peaceful nature of the elves held true with the tribes in the deeper regions of the country, the coastal tribes were known to be influenced by the human wars and of their limited trade with Falke; they were ready for battle.
"Twelve days..." Roland began to utter as he adjusted his bright, steel armor in preparation for their docking in Miracia. “Twelve days on this Gods-forsaken piece of rubbish you southerners pass as a ship. Tella be praised with her gift of the earth, for I have long grown tired of these waters.” He hissed, glorifying the sight of land, not particular on the location. He didn't particular know much about the elves, as he hardly visited there. He had hoped their elven knight would help broker any information they would need, but the elf had left their ship the moment it hit Miracian waters. Roland never asked why he left, and quite frankly, he didn't much care. He turned his head. "Why could we not hug closer to the shore for calmer water?" The knight questioned Captain Crewe with a hint of annoyance.
"That would attract to much unwanted eyes," Captain Crewe stated matter of factly. Roland scoff as the black ship slowly pulled into a small port with a few merchant ships at a fairly kept dock. Roland saw a healthy combination of Falkan traders and eleven locals. Captain Crewe barked orders at his sailors, prepping the ship for landing and the crew for a swift yet bearable arrival. Soon enough, Captain Crewe howled until the ship anchored at the port and was tied down to the poles that were dotted across the port. As the Knights descended down to the wooden port, a rather large group of elven warriors had greeted them. They were covered in bright green light armor, covering their vital areas while hugging their skin for mobility. Roland scoffed at the elven designs. They were hardly going to prevent a single strike of his longsword on the that thin armor. It may as well have been paper. Despite their thinner armor, however, there were quite a lot of them.
Among the elven soldiers was an elf out of armor. With long black hair and youthful features, he hid his age well enough for Roland to be unable to make an educated guess. He wore a dark red silk robe with an elaborate design of golden trees embroidered on the robe. Floral designs were stitched on the edges of the robe, and a few fine golden jeweled rings styled his fingers, completing an image of wealth, importance and regality.
"Welcome, Knights of Ekilore, to Fornond," he said as he greeted the arriving knights with a low bow.
“I assume you are the ‘friend’ the monks spoke of,” Roland said to the man, who raised himself from his bow to meet the gaze of the knight from Ethora.
"Indeed, Sir Knight," The elf answered, with a warm smile. "I am Estallir, advisor to druid Vanya of the shores. I am here to provide you council, and direction on your noble quest. Please, if you would accompany me to my estate. It is not far."