One after another, warstaves made of hardened ice emerged from Evan's lap as he kneel-sat amidst the eight other people in camp. Nothing sharp protruding at any part of the warstaves. Looks like he's content to only bruise and debilitate their opponents.
In total he made five warstaves, and they're all for himself unless someone asks. Three of them latched onto the back of Evan's longcoat, and he placed the other two on the ground beside himself.

The wargs eyed the scenery, looking for spots to lay low and be close enough just in case someone needed to be fetched out of battle, but there's a problem dawning upon Evan's mind right now as he looked at these people.
He didn't know a single one of their names. It'd be a problem if his wargs couldn't identify who's who.

Reluctantly, he raised a hand ✋ to attract their attention. Just this first step alone was already daunting, but he had to push on. A partial gap in his mouth, a moment of hesitation, before he spoke.
"[color=6ecff6]Hello. I am Evan.[/color]"