Edna
High Chief Argloc Brunhild 

Wilderness 

Traversing the Midlands was unlike anthing they had done before. Of course the Clansmen of the Clan were used to going south for raiding but never for this "Diplomacy" The very word was alien to the Clan. But Argloc knew better. While his clanmates savagely attacked and raided Argloc studied the cultures of the world. He read books, probably the only one who could in the Clan, and knew of these Councils of Marin. When a raven was brought forth to Argloc, a Clanswoman having shot it down for food, Argloc found the letter. The Nameless ones must've wanted this, Argloc thought. It was too coincidental that the raven had been led astray by the winds and into the sights of a huntswoman. Knowing the value of blessings Argloc told his compatriots and took 20 warriors with him to the Midlands. He had to chose the most intelligent of them in hopes to not display the uglier side of the Clan. Forcing his men to eat only animals and herbs many grumbled but Argloc was the King of the Chosen and his word was law. After departing from their homeland the group took horses. Their shaggy rides were the finest horses the Clan had, trained for war and strong enough to traverse the wintery wastes of Northwind. Though many of them were tired from long travel and the heat of the midlands, the fear of the Clansmen wrath if the horses did not Corperate drove them forward —at least that's what the Clansmen thought.

Not knowing, nor caring to understand, the road ways of Marin, the Clansmen traveled through the wilderness hunting as they went. While they did so one Clansmen, Uric, found a nomad of sorts. Running immediately back to his High Chief, Uric informed his King of the strange man. Many of the men wanted to kill and eat him, but being this close to the civilized folk made Argloc worried of how he might look if rumor spread of them eating a traveler in the Greenlands. So Argloc took it upon himself to approach the man. And upon this fateful night Argloc donned his bone crown, metal armor, furs, and weapons. This being a rather ceremonial dress from the Clansmen Argloc entered the camp sight slowly. "I am Argloc Brunhild, do not be frightened my friend I simply wish to wonder why you travel alone... It makes my warriors nervous. Perhaps you would wish to travel with us?" The six foot tall man was wider than he was tall. His massive shoulders and rippling muscles made him seem even taller. The pale skinned man had short black hair and stubble along his jawline, perhaps he shaved recently. His green eyes glowed in the night as he looked to the nomad. His hands up to show no aggression as he stood in the light but as far as possible. Argloc's Clansmen were in the forests around but they were well trained in guerilla warfare; as a result, hiding in forestry was easy to say the least
Wayne
**Lady Batten's Scout**
*Wilderness*

The man was no nomad, but a scout, dressed in leathers that had been carefully and thoughtfully made, his boots worn to a comfortable fit, but not yet threadbare. A sash was tied at his waist in the colors of House Batten — navy and argent — and his face heavily bearded paired with long hair in a braid.

He was a Northron man, but not like _these_ wild barbarians that had taken him from his task. The scout prided himself on his swiftness and his stealth, but even _he_ could learn a thing or two from these clansmen.

_If_ he lived.

Too proud to show fear, he clenched his teeth tightly together and instead mentally recounted his prayers to the Frozen Gods and hoped that when he did not send his arrow in a few hours time, the Lady's other scouts would understand.

When the Bone King emerged, the scout's scowl deepened, heavy salt-and-pepper brows drawing together over his face. The scout was by no means a fancy free midlander or some Southron fop, but he clearly wasn't as bulky or wild as the men that currently surrounded him...

... Or the human beast that stood there, speaking his best aristocratic impression. The Bone King's eyes glowed like an animal, and the scout could easily believe they held the blood of such.

"I'm traveling my own path, Argloc Brunhild, mapping the terrain and the way to Taemar without the sickness impeding travel," The scout stated, turning his head briefly to look at the yawning darkness of the forest. He saw nothing, but felt the sense of predators hungrily watching his every move.

The burlish Batten man turned to look at Argloc. 

"Why do you travel South?"
Edna
"I travel south for my people. The Nameless ones have sent me a sign, I shall attend this Council of Marin and ensure that the Clan is spoken for. I shall either be ignored or I shall be heard. Either way the Clan shall gain something from this Council. My people have too long suffered in the wastes of the Witherlands. Too long have my people suffered while others have thrived. A new sun rises as the moon falls and this sun shall bring light to a new age. I will no longer see my people suffer. If I am ignored at this council I shall give them something to pay attention to." Argloc seemed grim his hands lowering to his sides asshe stood at the edge of the camp, his anger rising. "You still have not answered my question stranger, who are you, why do you travel alone, and why have you come to Taemar?" On his left hip lied a large blade of sorts. It rested within a black pelt scabbard with a hilt that was of bone. The hilt was rather large and worn, covered in odd runes that only a Clansmen would understand. Unsheathing his sword the blade was gigantic and a dark steel. Resting both his hands upon the bone pommel he planted the blade into the dirt. Resting his hands and partially his own bulk his mouth was a thin line and his eyes continued to grow ever ominously. "Perhaps my warriors have a right to be worried."
Wayne
**Lady Batten's Scout**
_Wilderness_

It was an impressive speech, and made the burly-faced scout's frown deepen with the _threat_ that punctuated the end of his words. Shifting from foot to foot where he stood, it was clear that the Battenman was uncomfortable in the Clan King's presence, and even more uncomfortable with his words.

When the black blade was drawn and stabbed into the earth, the scout let out a small scoff.

"I did answer your question," The Northron man said, a touch offended and perhaps filled with too much attitude. It was the Witherland way, however. "I'm napping the terrain and marking where the plague has hit worst. And ye didn't ask for my name, although my name is Dirk, like the weapon." He almost spilled who he worked for, as well, but since Argloc hadn't noticed the sash and didn't seem to be too knowledgeable about the Noble houses of Marin, Dirk didn't want to say too much.

"I didn't know the Council had invited... The Clans," Dirk said, his gaze running over Argloc's form as if trying to put it to memory, just in case he did survive and needed to recount the tale to others.