The big Northman once known as Corraich Fiadhaich approached the base camp of the Iron Wolves with a calm and measured pace. They were out here hunting Orcs after all, and he didn't want some green boy playing soldiers mistaking him for one of those big brutes and accidentally filling him full of crosbow bolts, all because he'd come outta the trees walking too fast. Not that the Iron Wolves had that sorta reputation, but you could never be to careful after all. As it was he was spotted by the sentries on watch pretty quick, who kept a wary eye on him as he crossed towards them.
"Ho there lads," he called out with a wave and a cheery smile. His pa always taught him that whatever you do in life, do it with a smile. Corraich had tried to stick to that as much as possible, coming to find that a smile could sometimes get you that which iron couldn't. Not often mind you, but enough to make it a trick worth trying.
These sentry's weren't looking all that receptive of his sunny demeanour though, in fact one of them, a beardless boy by the state of him, looked down right terrified. Corraich had come to accept that that was an almost constant reaction some southerners had to him, though if that was because he was a Northman, a scarred giant, or because they always shat their trousers at the slightest provocation he wasn't sure, though he had an inkling that it was a combination of the three. The boys companion sentry, a grey bearded vet, was a calmer sort though, hawking and spitting a lump of phlegm before answering.
"State your business or move on." A no nonsense type then. Corraich could appreciate that.
"I'm here looking for an Iron Wolf Captain named Bonnie Yohn. Say's I could find him here. Our business is for us to discuss."
The vet showed all the emotion of a stone as he considered Corraich's reply, while the boy managed to stay in a state of heightened terror that would have been almost impressive if it wasn't so pathetic. He wont last the soldier's life. Most likely be dead by winter solstice if he doesn't get off of the Warrior's Path, Corraich thought to himself. Finally the veteran sentry came to a decision.
"Alright. Follow me." With that the vet turned and stalked through the camp, Corriach's long legs struggling to keep pace with the man's hurried strides. As mercenary bases go the Iron Wolves wasn't the worst. The stink of the latrines wasn't too overpowering, the 'camp wives' who flocked to these sorta places weren't too ugly and the guards were still sober enough to stand. Aye, it was an inspiring sight true enough, nothing like the shambles the Spring Crows had called a camp, but Corraich reckoned the less said about those lads the better. The vet led him to a cook fire attended by a trio of Iron Wolves, amongst them the Captain Bonnie Yohn, so named for his legendary ugliness.
Bonnie Yohn's appearance was enough to take a man's breath away, with the right side of his face burnt horribly, his right eye a weeping mess that was covered by a cloth patch that only served to call more attention to his handicap, straggly greasy hair that stuck out at all angles an shit coloured teeth that looked like a row of broken headstones. He'd never be a maidens wet dream, but tales of Yohns ugliness were only matched by tales of his bravery. The man was a consummate professional when it came to soldiery, and a complete asset to the Wolves, as Corraich had come to find during the ambush. The veteran sentry announced their presence, Yohn turning his attention from a junior officer telling some ribald story to the vet and the Northman, his ugly face breaking into a revolting grin full of good humour.
"North, you came! Glad you didn't make a liar outta me, I told the commander you were the find of the century, but then started to worry you wouldn't show. Shoulda known that orc ambush wouldn't scare a big lad like you off! Good work Talky, now return to your post." Corraich, now going by North, returned the smile as Talky the sentry returned to the perimeter, though talk of that ambush brought back painful memories. He and Yohn had only met two days hence when Corraich had been signed on with a rival crew of mercenaries called the Spring Crows. The Crows, eager to fatten themselves on the coffers of the Sadan Empires like several other merc companies, had answered the call to arms at Fort Heinsworth. Unfortunately the Crows had been poorly led, badly organised and almost exclusively manned by idiots. On one of their few paltry scouting efforts they had been ambushed by a unit of Orcs. Corraich, who had only recently stepped back onto the Warriors Path when he had signed up with the Crows, was still rusty from inaction, failing to spot the ambush before it was almost too late. He woulda been killed if it hadn't been for Bonnie Yohn leading his Iron Wolves in a counter attack. As it stood Corraich was one of only three Crows that had survived the farce, the other two quickly deciding they had had their fill of mercenary work. Corraich had managed to kill four of the Orcs himself, through a combination of brute strength, one-time skill and incredible dumb luck, and Yohn had taken a liking to him, inviting him to join the Iron Wolves.
"Well come on then North, lets go introduce you to the Commander and make it official." Yohn rose and led them to the command tent, the guards letting him pass after confiscating Corriach's weapons. Or most of them at least, as Corraich still had one little knife hidden behind his belt buckle. Never can be to careful, after all. I've learnt that the hard way lads. Yohn coughed theatrically before speaking to his leader.
"Commander Gharskull, here's that Northman I mentioned to ya. Told ya he was a big one!"
Corraich waited patiently for the Commander to speak.
