Brannus chuckled, the Argonian was no novice, nor was she a fool. "I can assure you, miss, everything here is as it should be, I've no use for trinkets and gems, and the wood provides us with more than enough fresh meat and water. Now, as you said, let us not stand here in the cold for too long, the chill must be much worse against your scales, and many beasts are fond of roaming the snow. So, let us talk of payment, what are you prepared to give in exchange for these goods?" 

The snow and glacial winds battered against the large nord's armor ice crystals forming over colder steel. Snow began to cake the many pelts and furs Brannus wore draped over his shoulders, and the wyrm skull mounted upon his right shoulder-guard. The smell of the raw meat and decaying flesh were all that could be found amid sterile snow and ice, their decay and rot slowed by the cold, ice holding some of the mutilated bodies together, slowly cracking and shifting as the chill began to fill each and every crevice of necrotic flesh. Wolves could be heard, howling in the distance, as was common of the tundra, they seemed to join the great winds in song, crying out for blood, to take their prey together with claw and frost.