Act II, Chapter One: Between Stone and Snow

BEFORE COMBAT, WHEN AZOTE AGREES TO HEALING:

"War was all that was meant for me to learn and not peace and growth. And the decades that follow have only more trouble. Would be nice if it ended. " You get the impression Azote is a war child. Seem she feels that war hasn't ended for her although she wishes it would. You also feel Azote is on the run and perhaps she joined here to do just that. There is an unwritten bond between the two. Both understand the need for healing.

ALSO BEFORE COMBAT, WHILE WALKING IN DARKENED SNOW.

Seelah keeps Bladeguard drawn, maintaining steady warrior-minded readiness. She glances at the blade’s pommel, gripped tightly in gauntleted grip. Perceptive friends can perhaps hear her utter, amidst fast-falling snow,

Acemi…

It is only when wolves make malelovent canine appearance, that our ebony erelander eventually falls into action!

It's been a day for the Sarcosan and with the way that he shaking it's unlikely that he's going to be much use in a fight. He can't even feel his fingers, let alone be relied upon to draw his bow. But this is why he practices, why he's always drawing sigils in the air and working his fingers through the movements that allow him to draw on magic. A scintillating pattern of colors burst forth from his fingers in a cone that washes over Wolf 3.

The air shivers with a sudden flare of impossible color. Jasir’s arcane syllables cut the air, and a fan of searing hues blooms across the nearest wolf’s muzzle. The beast recoils, but a snarl of will snaps its eyes clear, the spell washes off like morning light on hoarfrost. The wolf jerks at the wire‐snare Ulfr planted moments before. It slings snow as it thrashes about but the trap holds, its legs still tangled.

Ahead, the dire wolf’s breath plumes in white gusts while another pack-mate breaks from its flank, bounding toward the giant-blooded hunter. Ulfr pivots; the lunging jaws clap shut on empty air, scattering rime from his cloak.

A low, rolling growl rumbles from the dire wolf as it lowers its head and readies to advance, amber eyes fixed on the party. The mist swirls, carrying the scent of wet fur and old carnage.