When Folkmar's eyes finally met with their destination, he let out a nasal huff. The entire journey had been uneventful, and quiet. These humans were no fun, all grim and morose as they seemed. He knew that where they were going was no where spectacular, but he at least expected a dangerous approach. Aside from being a half way decent location on a high mountainous ridge, the entrance way left much to be desired. It was far too open. The orcish man was, in a word, crestfallen.
	Biting the scrap of the last night's kill, before tossing the remains to his hound, the grey man dismounted his steed, and strode forth.
	"[color=0054a6]This is it? Pretty disappointing if you ask me,[/color]" he noted, "[color=0054a6]Well, seems to me that the easiest way to solve this is offer to pay them whatever they want in blood. We obviously win, of course,[/color]" he remarked, a note of personal pride on his face.
	His expression, however, soon soured, as the lack of challenge caught up to him once again. Not even his raven seemed interested. That was never a good sign.