The other champions soon gathered, and the matter of business was attended. Apparently there was a horde of Northmen slowly crawling southward. That would certainly enough to disturb Volkimir's wolves, and so that mystery was solved. The intention for this meeting was obvious; Hopsfield wished to deter the horde, to avoid the plunder of his homelands that lay directly in path of the barbarian horde. The man was easy to figure out, if nothing else. The elf (Fyldren, was it?) voiced her opinion on the matter, largely unconcerned by the matter. Volkimir found himself of like mind; the fate of the world was at stake, and they could not afford to waste their strength on such a petty matter.

Still, another issue crossed Volkimir's mind. Both the Northmen and themselves were processions of considerable size. They had only noticed the barbarians first by virtue of having aerial scouts. It would not be long before the Northmen noticed them, and while they could evade them for some time by virtue of the blizzard, their caravan was simply too large and unwieldy to escape them in such an open area. The two would have to come into contact for one reason or another, and Volkimir suspected that the fleeing Northmen would take notice of the large quantities of supplies their retinues carried.

The ground rumbled, and Volkimir spotted a giant of some sort that had wandered into their midst. It stood vaguely at the edge of their caravan, standing still as it gnawed on some beast or another. The other arriving champions cracked awful jokes that made Vokimir hate them all a little more, but his mind pondered the possibilities that this creature presented. The Northmen were not known for their strict discipline or tight formations. If he learned anything in the years he spent in their lands, Volkimir knew that barbarians moved like water, always taking the path of least resistance. Not to mention that this was not a warband, as far as they could tell, these were refugees. Their numbers seemed vast, but they would mostly be women and children, supplies and shelters carried on sleds by pack animals. They could not risk a direct incursion with such a great beast.

Volkimir decided to voice his considerations. "I believe we have found the solution to this issue," he said, gesturing to the giant. "Regardless of whatever settlements lay in the path of these Northmen, they impede our progress Northward. A direct confrontation would needlessly sap our strength and resources. I suggest we lure the beast ahead of our procession, as a vanguard, and march it into the barbarian horde." He made motions with his hands to demonstrate his intended formations. "They would split like water on a stone to avoid it, and we would follow behind it in tight formations and march directly through the middle of their formation. The blizzard will provide us cover, and by the time they find our tracks, we will be long gone."

Though his face of course betrayed nothing, Volkimir had a subtle ulterior motive to this plan. Though the rest of his fellow champions believed that their supplies were plentiful, poor rationing stemming from Volkimir's haste had led his retinue to run out of sustenance. The more living members of his personal caravan had no issues eating from the supplies offered by the others, but Volkimir and his personal attendents required a "fresher" sort of meal. A few outriders set out as they passed through the barbarian horde would be enough to capture a plentiful number of cattle to keep fat and full of blood for the remainder of the journey. Considering that only reasons of practicality kept his peers from condemning the horde to death, Volkimir doubted that they would care much if they found out afterwards. Not to mention that the was sure that their servants and lesser attendants would be grateful to no longer awaken with bite wounds.