By the time Tasha arrived at the entrance, the men of Ravine Fort stood armed, their bows nocked at the ready along the high wall, while those below stood with their swords and spears poised for combat. It was apparent that this was not the first time they'd experienced a similar situation.
A young man, not much older than Altair, stood draped in black with seven similar figures behind him. Twin scimitars strapped to their back. His ears suggested he was an elf, but his scent was all wrong. He was tall, his skin shaded as if he was one with the shadows.
'Trow,' Tasha determined, holding her stare on the tarnished creature.
"Is this how you greet your guest?" El'von shouted, his voice lashing across the ears of everyone present. His cold red eyes searched the crowd for something or perhaps someone. "Lower your weapons!"
The men of Ravine Fort did not move.
