| Lorien held down his hood as a gust of wind blew rain on his face. Even soaked he managed to look like a noble he was. The silvery hair and piercing green eyes shined from beneath the hood and he tried to keep the spirits up by humming to a soothing tune. With a flick of a wrist he could have conjured an instrument to play, but the rain would have just ruined his performance, and he hated nothing more than playing poorly.
He took a look around the group and looked back on how he had come to know such individuals.
There was the other elf from his homeland, Sheyla. Faithfull of Corellon no less. That's all Lorien really knew of her, and he didn't even know wether she knew he was of noble house or not. It didn't matter, it felt good to have someone from home to talk to. He hadn't been back to Silverleaf for over a decade.
Then there was the barbarian from the north. He was from a tribe allied to the elves Lorien had spent nearly two decades with. It made him feel safe, for they were fierce warriors.
The druid seemed a bit strange, but Lorien appreciated his knowledge of the wilds.
And lastly the gladiator they had picked up recently. Lorien hadn't yet made up his mind of this human.
So he trudged along, the weather weighing down his mood, but confident that they were going to succeed on their task. | 
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