The half-dozen riders pulled up about twenty feet in from of Coran and Taenya… fanned out in a semi-circle across the Moonsea ride, ready to attack at any provocation; their apparent leader glared down at them from beneath her winged great helm on the back of a massive dapple-grey war stallion with a piercing stare that seemed to bore straight into their souls. Then he noticed the rose, sunburst and grain insignia on the broach that secured her cape, the holy symbol of Chauntea, and sensed the holy aura that surrounded her… the tell-tale sign of a paladin. “What are we waiting for Willow… she’s drow,” one of her subordinates growled in a challenging tone, clearly spoiling for a fight as he held his spear at the ready to charge them. The mounted militia of Mistledale and their marshals, known as the Riders, patrolled the road all the way to the junction of the Halfaxe Trail, turning back the notorious mercenary military of the first-lord of Hillsfar, the Red Plumes, and securing trade against drow attacks. “Obviously,” Willow snapped back in a tone that made it clear she would not accept any question to her command, as she reached up and removed her helm, setting loose a shoulder length cascade of wavy chestnut hair and revealing the features of a stunningly beautiful young woman, “but she is not evil… and neither is he.” “I’m Taenya Aendryr, servant of Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden… I come in friendship,” the drow priestess offered, her hands held wide to signify her peaceful intentions; like Coran, she could feel the holy aura around the mounted woman and knew that paladins could sense the presence of evil. “I’ve heard tell of drow who serve a good goddess form a temple in Harrowdale, but I never put much faith in it,” Willow challenged as she eyed the drow priestess with her penetrating stare again and failing to sense even the slightest hint of evil intent. Then see looked toward Coran, noticing the stars and eyes symbol of Selune on the amulet around his neck and that he bore neither weapons or armor, demanded; “And who are you… who travels with a drow that serves a good goddess and wears the sign of the Moonmaiden?” “Coran Dundragon, humble student of the Sun Soul… at your service milady,” he replied with a flair of formality and a mock courtly bow. Though monks were rare in the dalelands, especially traveling ones, most people had at least heard of the Sun Soul school and know of its affiliation with Lathander, Sune and Selune; all good deities. “A monk… almost as rare as a good natured drow,” Willow observed in an amused tone, she had never met, or either heard of, a wandering monk and had assumed he was just a commoner beguiled into following the nearly unnaturally beautiful drow, but now she looked at him with a reappraising eye and found quite a lot that she liked, inquiring; “So where are you bound… and on what business?” “I have always wanted to see the Standing Stone,” Taenya confessed with out hesitation or reservation. “Eilistraee asks that we test our faith in her teachings with annual pilgrimages to unfamiliar places, to overcoming the prejudice we encounter with honesty and compassion.” “Really,” Willow smirked with an almost sinister humor, “and just how many of you survive these pilgrimages?” “None of my sisters have ever failed to return… but I don’t believe any of them have ventured so far… most stay within Harrowdale or the neighboring fringes of the Cormanthor. Our high priestess tried to approach Tangled Trees once but was turned back with a rather emphatic request that none of us ever do so again,” she confessed. “I’m curious about this goddess who would send her followers on such pilgrimages knowing the hostility they will face and what she teaches that you believe will defend you,” Willow announced, then turning to the rider beside her she instructed; “continue the patrol… while I escort our pilgrims to see the Standing Stone… and then I’m sure High Councilor Malorn will have inquires of his own he will want to have answered.”