He sits just inside near a window so he can watch his stuff. Sure enough four figures walk down the main road heading towards the tavern.

Erevan scowls as he spots Jarn leading the group. As they near he makes note of Kalile the half orc, and a blonde human teen who must be Celise Koldottir. In the back of the group is the dwarf Darton and marching at his side is a young boar.

The four enter the tavern and spot Erevan. Jarn, Kalile, and Celise take the other seats around the table. Darton pulls up a chair and sits down. The boar lays down at his feet.

“Sorry we didn’t have a proper introduction last time.” Jarn says to Erevan. “I’m Jarn.”

“Erevan Burkwood. And we were preoccupied with a debate the last time we met.” Erevan taps his hand against a silvered knife on his belt.

“That’s one of our knives.” Celise narrows her eyes.

“He won it fair and square.” Jarn says. “The uptight lass is Celise.”

“The orc warrior is Kalile and the dwarf beast master is Darton. I already know your names and you just heard mine. I propose we stop wasting time and get to hunting.” Erevan says.

“Beast master?” Darton asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

“You’ve done your homework. Well then. Let’s get going before the roosters caw.” Jarn stands up.

The teens follow Jarn out of the tavern and begin heading Northward out of town.

“North isn’t a good direction to head in.” Erevan comments.

“We aren’t heading to the giant forest or too far we run into werewolves. The wolf den should be further west of this town. Just need to pick up the trail.” Jarn says.

“I’m not afraid of werewolves.” Kalile says.

“I mean. It'd be smarter if you did.” Darton comments.

“Fear is appropriate. Cowardice is inexcusable.” Celise holds her head high.

“How would you kill a werewolf.” Erevan asks. His voice seems to carry more weight in this group. As an outsider they all listen to what he says and seem to be judging him.

“With a silvered blade of course.” Kalile scoffs as if the answer is obvious.

“Even if you are an orc, you're not overpowering a lycan.” Erevan shakes his head.

“Then how do we kill the werewolves?” Jarn asks.

“Teamwork! Darton shouts.

Erevan cocks a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Celise huffs.

“Well it’s just when my dad and I hunted werewolves he expected me to be able to go toe to toe with at least one. I didn’t need his help. I shot the ballista with an angle that allowed me to immobilize or pin my target before finishing them off. Usually via decapitation.” Erevan explains.

“You’ve killed werewolves?” Darton squeals with excitement.

“No way.” Celise crosses her arms.

“Hey kid, you told Broxton you went through the giants forest, right?” Jarn asks.

“Yeah.” Erevan shrugs.

“So you lived past the forest. Closer to the Withering Gate. You’d have to kill werewolves to survive up there.” Jarn says mostly to himself.

The Viking like man can’t help but wonder how dangerous this teen really is. Erevan finds a few loose tracks and follows them back to the game trail he had killed the deer at. With as good a place as any to start the group starts following the trail westward.

The group arrives at a cliff face. There are scratch marks on the rocks on the steep path the wolves took.

Erevan ties a rope around his sled and ties the other end to his belt loop. He grabs the four hundred pound ballista off the sled and begins to climb with one arm. His other arm securing his siege weapon.

The others watch in shock as the feat of strength.

Erevan climbs to the top. Secures his ballista in place with the bolt aiming off the side of the cliff. He then wraps the rope that was tied to his belt around the of his ballista. He pulls on it and lifts the sled all the way to the top of the cliff side.

After untying the sled he lowers the rope and lifts up each of his companions one at a time. Two in the case of Darton and his piglet.

“So how are you as strong as a god?” Darton asks. The others watch expectantly.

“Just an incantation to lighten ones load.” Erevan answers.

“So the mystery boy is magical and strong.” Kalile elbows Celise.

“And he has ears.” Erevan turns and continues dragging his sled through the snow.

Erevan finds the trail quickly with some help from Kalile’s sharp nose. Darton’s boar picks up the trail and leads the way. Celise notes they are upwind of the wolves. The group's scent will give them away.

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Erevan mutters an incantation and the wind whips around them. As if blocked. It does not pass through them or pick up their scent.

The party marches uphill following Erevan and as they reach the crest of the hill Celise takes note of something off. She bends down and touches the soft petals of a flower.

Erevan turns around quickly taking in their surroundings. The others quickly notice what he’s seen. The top of the hill has no snow, none on the ground, none falling down.

The grass in a wide circle is green and lush. Amid the untouched meadow are dozens of flowers with purple and white petals. Erevan kneels down placing a hand on the earth. The ground is warm.

“Any of you know what’s going on here?” Erevan asks and looks around.

“No.” Kalile says flatly.

Celise doesn’t answer and Darton shakes his head. Jarn scoffs.

“What do you know?” Erevan raises a brow at him.

“Only what I don’t. This land is ancient. Been home to many creatures and magics. Nations rise and fall in the North. This could be any sort of magic or any ancient anomaly.” Jarn explains with a high and mighty attitude.

“Magic?” Erevan considers the man's words before facing an open palm towards the ground. He mutters an incantation.

“What spell are you casting now?” Kalile asks.

“Detect Magic.” Erevan replies quickly. “I sense a lingering aura of overwhelming creation magic.”

“It’s not a priority right now. Let’s complete the mission first.” Jarn says.

“Yes sir.” Erevan says glaring at Jarn.

The party continues on their way and head down the other side of the hill. Erevan and Celise stay on the trail. The hills grow taller and taller tell it’s taking an hour just to climb one.

The party crests a hill and comes to the wooden gates of a fort. Wooden palisades line the fortress. Two orcs stand on guard outside the gate.

They spot the party at the same time the party spots them and both groups stop in place.

“We must have lost the trail. Let’s circle around and try to pick it up again.” Jarn orders.

“No. The trail leads here.” Erevan drags his sled towards the gate and stops before the guards.

“Are you lost?” One of the guards asks in orcish.

“Don’t tease the worm. Speak his language.” The other orc sneers.

“No need to indulge me.” Erevan says in orcish. “We are attempting to locate a pack of wolves. If you or your camp have any information we would barter for the info.”

“Worm is impressive.” The second guard says.

“I will take him to Warlord Graw’aud.” The first guard nods and signals for the gate to be opened.

“I am honored. May my party follow?” Erevan asks.

“Of course. The laws of hospitality will be honored.” The first guard nods as the gate opens.

Erevan turns to the group. Kalile is translating the orcish being spoken to the party. Erevan waves for them to follow and they quickly do with some reluctance on Jarn’s part.

The party follows the orc guard. A few orcs walk alongside them as they near the center of camp. The houses are simple wooden houses. Some are larger but most are essentially just huts.

In the center of town is a giant skull with furs inside draped over the openings. Two orcs walk out of the open jaw of the skull. A woman with a staff ordained with feathers and a man with a large black sword on his back.

Behind them are seven orcs standing at attention. They are obviously the children of the Warlord Graw’aud. While they vary in height and age one orc strikes Erevan as odd. They look more like a half-orc and are much shorter for their apparent age.

“You are in the village of the Frostblood Clan. What is it you seek?” The woman with the staff speaks.

“Information. We seek to find a pack of wolves.” Erevan speaks as he lowers his head in respect.

“And what have you to barter for the information?” She asks.

“I’ll stay here for three weeks as I build a ballista for you. One of these.” Erevan points to his own ballista, having not known the orcish word it was the only one he spoke in common.

“If you are to hunt these wolves now we have no guarantee you will return and uphold your end of the bargain.” The woman narrows her eyes at Erevan.

“Then send one of your own. Someone to watch us. Maybe that son of yours.” Erevan points to the shorter half-orc.

“He is no son of mine.” She sneers.

“But he is his son.” Erevan gestures to the man with the black sword. “While you are the Speaker of the Frostblood Clan, that man is the Warlord. And giving his kin challenges is important to judge their worth.”

The orc warlord grunts and nods to his wife.

“The terms are not acceptable. If one of us goes with you they are in danger.” The speaker points to Erevan. “One of your own will have to stay to be fair.”

Erevan nods in respect and turns to his party. Kalile is still translating to the others.

“What!” Jarn looks upset. “We can’t leave one of our own with these savages.”

“A handful of them understand the common tongue.” Erevan crosses his arms.

“Who would even stay?” Celise asks cautiously looking around the camp.

“Well there’s two obvious choices.” Erevan says. “Kalile who can communicate with them. Or Jarn because the rest of us are supposed to be gaining experience hunting.”

“It has to be me.” Jarn says frustrated. “We estimated over fifteen wolves and we need to get the population closer to ten. So kill five to seven of them and then leave the rest.”

“You can count on us.” Erevan agrees with Jarn.

An orc guard gestures to Jarn. The hunter steps to the side of the group joining the guard. As he does so the half-orc from among the seven children of the Warlord steps forward to join the party.

“The Wolfpack stays in a cave south-west of here. Their alpha is a direwolf and many of them are interbred. They have been at our walls, testing our defenses.” The speaker says in orcish.

“Thank you for the information.” Erevan says in orcish with a slight bow of his head.

“May the Warrior Spirit be with you.” The speaker adds as Erevan and the party turn to leave.

The three hunters and Erevan stop just outside the gates of the orc camp. Erevan turns to the orc tribal.

“Erevan Burkwood.” The teen sticks a hand out towards the orc who quickly takes him up on the gesture.

“Ozarrik Frostblood.” The short orc answers.

“Are you fluent in common?” Erevan asks.

“No, but I study very hard.” Ozarrik replies.

“Well you can always ask myself or Kalile for a translation. Kalile is the mighty orc huntress in our group. The dwarf is Darton and the other human is Celise.” Erevan points to each member of the group.

“I have never met a dwarf.” Ozarrik says. “Is it true you can make mountains into cities?”

“Personally I doubt I could. But many of my people are skilled enough to do just that and for the city to spread far below the surface.” Darton answers.

“I would like to see a dwarf city one day.” Ozarrik smiles.

“Well I’ve never seen one either.” Erevan shrugs.

“Then we have a mission for another day.” Darton says.

The group talks as they walk around the keep and toward the southwest.