Wolfhelm, the great city of the northern tribes. A great fortress nestled into the lower ridges of the mountains. Snow lay upon the great stone path into it, a gentle fall of the soft white crystals coming. The great stone walls loomed up at the entrance, stone etchings depicting great dire wolves of old carved into the timeless rock. Within the great ebony wood gates a small cohort stood, all dressed in heavy carmine cloaks. Great bearded pole axes in strong hands as they stared at the princess and her envoy. One male stepped forward, heavy cloak almost dragging the ground. The male was short, a long grey beard decorating his chin. "Greetings."