Johnathon had finally caught his breath, now that he was free of the city and the guards clearly had bigger issue to deal with he was a liberated man. He wasn't entirely sure why he had chosen to incriminate himself by running off with the group of strangers but it did, in fact, prove an effective way of keeping with his guide. Until now, at least. Crom has disappeared to him somewhere back in crowd, and finding even a man like Crom in this mess was going to be a nightmare. As luck would have it, finding Adrian was not. The common folk gave the sick boy a wide berth, with no desire to get his puke on them. As Crom emerged from the crowd he was in plain view of Johnathon, and he immediately made his way over to his two traveling partners. "Hey friends. Quite the ride, huh?" He turned to look at the crowd once more, watching them thin and looking for Griff among them. "We need to find Griff and all, but I don't know if sticking around here too long is going to be safe." He motioned to the woods, and worried about the werewolf currently running free within them. Perhaps it would have been wiser to agree upon a meeting location outside the walls; but he hadn't set foot outside Aldrun since his arrival and they'd ran out on the short notice of a monster jumping the gates. The one thing he knew for certain was that he did not want to deal with what the guards could not.

From all the jostling and running, Adrian had sobered up considerably, but still felt the effects of intoxication. Adrian stood up, slowly, his whole world spinning. Shaking his head, slightly, and steeling himself, Adrian righted his posture. "Yeah, I think I'm good to walk." Adrian replied, running a hand over his face, and hair. Adrian looked around. They were near the forest that covered the side of the mountains. It was obvious, even in Adrian's current state, that the town was in a uproar, and the farther the group got from the town, the better. "Right. We're heading over the mountains, right? I'll lead." Adrian said, with a sense of authority. Despite the intoxication, Adrian had the remarkable ability to right his composure, and make it seem as if he was perfectly fine. Adrian began a slightly staggered march towards the mountains. In truth, Adrian had never made a mountain crossing before, but once again, the thrill of adventure began to propel Adrian to do increasingly stupid, and immature, things.

Soah charged into the thick of the forest, tearing bolts out of his skin with his clawed hand, blood spurting as he did so. Brushing past trees, breaking through foliage, and stomping across the sloped ground, Soah felt himself starting to ease back into his normal self. Blood layered his front half of his body. Soah, with one rip, tore his tunic off his chest, revealing his chest, and all the holes where the bolts had laid waste to his body, and threw it down on the ground. As he changed further and further into his human form, the wounds began to close, and 'heal' themselves. As Soah ran, his pace began to falter, as exhaustion began to set in. Devoid of tunic, his backpack, and only his cloak on now, Soah felt coldness setting in fairly fast. Soah collapsed next to a tree, wrapping his cloak around his body. Blood still coated Soah's hands, and face. As Soah examined the blood, he stared with a blank expression. The itch had definitely been taken care of, and he felt more relaxed at this point, but Soah wasn't happy with what he had done to take care of his thirst.

Johnathon looked back and forth between the crowd and Adrian as the boy began to lead off into the hills. He would have liked to have made sure they had everyone but it's not like they'd get far before they were seen by Griff. With a few unsure looks, he finally turned and walked off after Adrian. The woods only grew denser ahead, and all around him he felt he could see various shadows and shapes moving within the brush. At least there were a few beaten in roads to follow, but all were eventually swallowed in the woods; no pave layers would ever see this far north in his lifetime. The assumption that the woods were teeming with movement was in all probability not a false one. Multiple groups of rough men were scattering in various directions, their destinations already set and plans made. Their group had no such like: they had a road going west to follow. In Johnathon's experience, however, the open road was the more entertaining route. Slowly, he unfolded the patch of cloth he'd been tightly gripping since walking up to the group in the tavern. He wasn't going to start needling it while walking but picturing how he was going to sew in a picture of this new group gave him something to do on the path to... wherever Adrian thought he was going. He couldn't go wrong pointed west, in John's eyes.

Adrian kept his pace on his march. After his first incident, Adrian's stomach started to agree more with him. It was honestly amazing how fast he was able to shake off most of the effects of the drink. For added benefit, Adrian slapped his own face a couple of times, trying to further raise his awareness. As Adrian started their slope ascension to the summit of the mountain, He heard the crunch of snow, from what sounded like a large creature. Adrian instantly jerked his head to the right, and could see the side face of a man, crumpled on the ground, and wrapped in a cloak. Adrian ducked behind a tree, and looked back at his group. He pointed towards the area, with his index finger. By the looks of it, from this area, the man looked like one of the savages that called the frozen wasteland better known as the North home. Adrian traced his hand along his hip, til he grabbed the hilt of his dagger. The man seemed to be breathing heavily, and it was obvious that whomever it was they were fairly exhausted. Maybe a refugee from the city? Adrian asked himself what a great hero adventurer would do in this situation, and decided that letting the senior members of the group decide would be the best course of action. He glanced back at John, "Hey, Fancypants, what do you wanna do with this guy?" Adrian whispered in a low tone.

Just when he'd been appreciating his lungs, they had started up slopes. He didn't have the shoes for this kind of activity although he was used to plenty of walking down lazy southern streets. Everything about this place hated him. John trudged on though, maybe he didn't want to be outdone by the kid playing their leader. He froze, not that he wasn't already freezing, at a sudden sound nearby. Adrian had also caught on and they were both looking at a bare chested cloaked man covered in, yes, that looked exactly like blood. At least he was laying down. It was unnerving to see the boy in front of him immediately go for his dagger but given the savage appearance of the man John didn't give it much more thought. "Just what we needed," he said quietly, stooping down near a tree and hoping the man didn't leap up and charge them. It came as a surprise when Adrian asked his opinion, of all present, for what to do, and at first he simply looked down and suddenly felt very self-conscious about his patchwork covered attire. "Do with him? I don't know, walk away?" He glanced at the man laying on the ground and, recalling how much noise he'd made laying there, realized that wasn't much an option. "Hold on to that dagger let me try something," John whispered with a grimace. He stood away from the tree and yelled to the man. "Hoy there! Are you in need of assistance, sir?" What a dumb thing to do, his blood ran cold waiting for the snarling and the battleaxes and the pillaging that would follow.

Soah's head jerked to the sound of whispering. He could see the two people, attempting to hide behind the trees not far from him. They appeared to be deciding what to do with Soah, when one of them addressed Soah aloud, asking if he needed assistance. Soah haphazardly stood up, using his shoulder to sturdy himself against the tree. He used his cloak to hide his bare chest, and arms. "Yeah, assistance would be appreciated." Soah said, in his normal gruff voice. Soah stumbled towards the group, careful to hide the rest of his bloody body. Soah had no intention of lying to the people, but he also had no intention of telling them what happened. As Soah stumbled over, he recognized the group as the same he saw at the tavern. "By God, it's you bastards, again." Soah said, no really indicating frustration, but more surprise than anything. Soah leaned against a tree, next to the patchwork man. "Don't suppose you can spare a tunic?" Soah asked, hoping the group would provide some sort of warmth for him.

As the man approached the group, Adrian visibly shook. The savage looking man, had a fairly intimidating voice, and as he got closer, Adrian could see some spots of blood on the man. Adrian had never seen the man before in his life, and was surprised when the man recognized the group. Once the man was close, Adrian could see what he thought was the outline of a short sword, under the man's cloak. After a moment, Adrian righted himself. "I'd like to know the identity of the man we are going to assistance, before giving up precious resources!" Adrian said, with a fleck of authority in his voice. Adrian was attempting to lead negotiations with the man by taking on the persona of the group leader. Adrian stepped out from the tree, and placed a hand in between John and Soah, indicating to John to hang out a moment, before acting. "I am Adrian Brady, leader of this intrepid group of adventurers. This is John Wenigsten," Adrian started, guiding his hand to introduce the group. "And our other partner, Crom!" Adrian finished, guiding his hand once more. Adrian then placed his hand at his side, and awaited introductions from the newcomer.

Crom had followed the group in relative silence, taking in their surroundings and keeping a watchful eye out for anything suspicious. Anything could happen on the open road. He briefly considered trying to clean the vomit from his cloak, but decided that was a task better suited for after they had set up some sort of camp. A bit of vomit was no worse than the blood of men and horses that had covered him while fighting Esterl's wars. Adrian seemed to fancy himself the group's leader. Crom found the boy's flamboyance entertaining, and saw no reason not to humor him, so long as they stayed heading in the right direction. The old mercenary wondered how far back Griff was, but had no doubt he would find them eventually. After a bit of walking, Adrian noticed another man farther up the road. After a bit of deliberation, Johnathon called out to the man, who then approached them. The disheveled figure in front of them seemed familiar. Crom vaguely recalled seeing him in the tavern. He seemed to be missing his tunic, and was wrapping himself tightly in his cloak. The mercenary noted that the man seemed to have specks of blood soaking through the garment. "Are you wounded, mate?" he asked, wondering whether the man had been caught in the chaos at the docks.

Introductions had gone a lot smoother than Johnathon had anticipated, and the man even recognized them. That was unfortunate because John had no idea who he was looking at. Clearly, however, he wasn't used to being shirtless in this cold and that struck away all chances of him being a northerner come to Aldrun in his mind. He still didn't know if he trusted a stranger covered in blood in the wilderness, but he at least had the decency to reply to them. Tension had bled away, and without thinking much of it John unraveled his scarf from around his neck and was about to offer it to the man when Adrian put a hand out in front of him. He shrugged, unperturbed at being unable to answer the request for some clothing, meager as his contribution was. Crom asked the man about his wounds, and Johnathon piped up after, hoping to bring the newcomer to trusting them. He wanted to help the man, partly because it was a nice thing to do but behind all that it got him another hand over the mountains, which meant an easier life ahead. "We're not doctors but I can suture."

Soah adjusted his cloak a little, trying to warm himself up. "It's not my blood." Soah said, in his normal gravely voice. He outreached a hand, and took the scarf from John, despite the small kid's hesitation. Soah wrapped the scarf around his neck, helping him a little, but not by much. "My name is Soah." Soah introduced, as he tried to wrap himself more in his cloak, trying to get every bit of warmth out of it he could. "I assume you lot are heading over the mountains?" Soah asked, as he glanced up the sloped ground, towards the top of the mountain. It was still a long walk, and the group would no doubt want as much people with them as they could muster, and Soah also needed to put as much distance between him and the town as physically possible. .

Crom eyed the newcomer with a slight suspicion. If it wasn't his blood then whose was it? The man introduced himself as Soah and asked about their destination. With marginal distrust in his voice, Crom replied. "Aye mate. You got any experience with them?" Crom motioned to the snow capped peaks in the distance. It was rather cold in the forest, and the mercenary could feel the chill against his face, though Soah seemed far worse for wear about it than himself. It would only get colder the higher up they went. The grizzled man wasn't terribly worried for himself. As rough and tattered as his cloak was, it was still quite warm. He was more concerned with what might be lying in wait farther down the road. He could handle himself, certainly, but he had no way of knowing what the other members of the party might do if they were attacked. His eyes drifted to Soah again. He supposed it was possible that the man had gotten bloody during the chaos in the port, but somehow doubted his current state was the result of an accident. He felt he'd need to keep an eye on him, just in case.

Griff walked quickly along the road, hoping the catch up with the others. The werewolf leaping over Aldrun's palisade had taken everyone by surprise and in the confusion that followed he had lost his companions. Griff's brisk pace meant he had long since left any of the other fleeing people behind and he was now alone making it much easier to track the group. He made his way up a slope, earlier from the crowds he had seen them begin their climb, noting the displaced rocks where they had passed. The snow made things a lot easier and he was soon just following footsteps. Hearing voices Griff slunk into the tree line and slowed down, moving through the forest silently. He stopped when he could make out a group of men. One was Crom, that was clear, the man towering over the rest. Moving closer Griff could make out John and Adrian, although there was another man covered in blood and wearing nothing but a cloak. Wary of the stranger, Griff stepped out from the trees and made his way up to the group. "Ah, there you are." He called out, announcing his presence. He joined the group and eyed the bloodied stranger. "Who's this?"

Johnathon eyed Soah warily when the man claimed the blood wasn't his. If that was true then where had it come from other than some kind of fight? Whoever their stranger was, he didn't look very violent or threatening. Again, more people for the mountaineering. He followed up on Crom's question, "Yeah, we're bringing on all the help we can get to scale these mountains and travel out west. The weather out there is much better, I hear." He wasn't even sure if they'd be keeping together outside of Aldrun yet. They'd all agreed on going west but there was a lot of space between here and the next mountain range, a far more civilized one they'd no doubt find a well traveled pass through. The range which marked the end of fast-held Arcarti territory and the beginning of the regions directly bordering the small nations composing the League. The heartlands were, if you believed all the nonsense told by travelers, a dangerous enough place without a war brewing. He was pulled from his musing by the arrival of a familiar voice, one that he couldn't quite remember the face to until he turned around. Griff, alive and well. "Welcome back," John said, waving to the returning party member. "This," he turned back towards Soah, "is hopefully our newest member on the trail west."

Adrian watched as the adults took care of business, and further introductions. After everyone had settled in, Adrian righted his posture, and puffed out his chest. "Right! I think we spent enough time here playing games. It's time to march up the mountain!" Adrian said, with a air of bravado on his voice, as he heel-face turned and started the march up the mountain. Adrian didn't much care for the new man. He was plenty suspicious, but why would Adrian care if all the group was currently doing was trekking across a mountain? Whatever the man did, wasn't their business, and he obviously wasn't going to try anything harmful to the group when he is outnumbered 1 to 4.

"That's good. The more the merrier." Griff said in response to Johnathon. The more of them there were, the easier it would make the journey. Also it would be easy to go unnoticed in a larger group should they be questioned. The newcomer being covered in blood was suspicious, however Griff just chalked it up to him being involved in whatever had happened with the werewolf back in Aldrun. His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Adrian taking command, much to his surprise. Back in the Mast the boy had been drunk but still hadn't seemed the type to lead like this. "Lead the way." Griff said, humouring the boy and gesturing towards the path before them.

Crom raised a hand to wave as Griff returned, having finally found them in the forest. The rest of the group seemed content with Soah following them, so Crom kept his suspicions to himself. Adrian again overflowing with confidence, began leading them up the mountain. The mercenary followed, scanning the wooded area around them as carefully as he could. If there were bandits nearby, he had no intent to be ambushed. His hand slid behind him to the back of his belt, unlatching his flask. He uncorked the top and took a long drink. The liquid was impossibly bitter, and burned the mercenary's mouth as soon as it touched his tongue. He swallowed down a mouthful of what amounted to liquid fire and re-corked his flask, returning it to it's place on the back of his belt. Crom immediately felt the beverage taking effect, as a deep warmth emanated from the pit of his stomach. Still, the drunkard's balance didn't falter.

He'd called him fiery as a joke but Adrian was rapidly living up to the accolade. Johnathon fell in without protest behind the column of travelers. The march pace set by Adrian was a little bit faster than his usual walk, as if the running through down and the hiking through the forest hadn't worn him enough. A fast pace, however, would keep them warm and he found himself playing along trying to march in time with Adrian. It kept him from starting a ramble about the locale, too, which his traveling partners might not have had an ear for. As the group marched on, the scenery changed slowly around them. The pines began to thin away as they climbed, giving way to larger and larger clearings of snow and rocks. The winds picked up from a gentle whispering among the evergreen boughs to a shrill cry that tore against the exposed sides of the mountain. Steadily, the incline steepened, though they had hardly even begun their climb. Far ahead, a few distinct paths among the rocks stood out, leading far up and up into the summits of the ring of mountains surrounding Aldrun. It seemed to John that at least they would have a choice on their path. All of them had clearly been worn down long ago by travelers like themselves, but a few were marred by fresh footprints. Of course they weren't the first to come here, more ambitious or at least motivated groups had set out into the mountains to do as they pleased at the first sign of a possible war.

Adrian continued his march up the mountain, and watched as the tree thick mountainside dissipated in favor of a steeper incline, and large drifts of snow. Up ahead, Adrian could see several mountain passes the group could take. As the incline steepened, Adrian took a step and slipped, falling to his side. Before a member of the group got outreach a hand to help the kid up, Adrian was already back on his feet, brushing the snow from his side as he kept his position on point. Adrian wouldn't let himself appear frail or weak in front of the group, despite how raggedy and childish he looked. The thing fueling the fire in Adrian's stomach was the sense of adventure. He wanted to travel, see sights, fight bandits, kill the legends of old, and now that he was with a group, it was like he was in a storybook. Adrian was smart enough to know that the group was likely just humoring him by allowing the child to take point, but they couldn't see the thing propelling Adrian. It wasn't money, glory, women, or something material. It was something pure. Something that few people even cared for anymore. The fire for adventure. To adventure for the sake of adventure. Adrian wouldn't let broken bones, being drunk, or sickness stop this journey. Adrian kept his steady march, even increasing his speed a little, as he approached one of the paths. Adrian seemed unaffected by the group's climb, so far, he wasn't even breathing heavy, yet.

Crom continued following the group, bringing up the rear as usual. The air was chilly, but not bitterly cold, not yet at least. The soldier took the incline of the mountain in stride, periodically glancing around him, making sure nothing was lurking within the shadows of the mighty evergreens that surrounded the ragtag group of adventurers. The forest was actually quite tranquil. Occasionally one would hear the scurrying of a nearby animal, or the call of a distant bird, but otherwise the only sounds were made by the footsteps of the company slowly traversing their way up the mountain. Crom breathed in the fresh air deeply. This was what he loved about the road; the peace and quiet. Adrian was still leading the group. The boy slipped, and for a moment Crom quickened his pace to come to his aid, but the fiery young lad was already on his feet and back about his business in a few seconds. The mercenary admired the young man's dedication, he clearly had a strong spirit. He took another swig from his flask, frowning only slightly at the strong taste. The container was about one fourth empty. He was unsure of just how potent the drink he had purchased at the Mast was, but he was sure he'd have to use it before they reached their destination. He walked slightly faster, moving up towards the front of the group. "So lad, how'd you end up out here?" he asked Adrian, trying to start a conversation.