Torch flickering in the wind, Gimlak's companions watch as the (clearly) barbarian man heads off into the darkness, alone. It seems till now, his plan has worked, the wolves more than happy to snack upon their master's flesh. Perhaps that is less of a reassurance on second thoughts, to Gimlak, being the new master and all.
The hairy pair tug him along, and mostly comply to the demands on the reigns. Its a bit lurchy and they lack the domesticated attitude of well trained horses, but aside from a few jolts along the way, he keeps them headed in a generally southwards direction.
With little more than dim light surrounding him, the sounds of the oncoming grow louder. The shout of a dwarven voice, commanding animals to hurry. The crack of a whip. Then ahead, forty feet away, he sees them. A sled pulled by row upon row of wolf. Six? And behind them the form of a Korrud.
"I hope ya found em' ya sniveling muttface!" He calls out with authority in his tone.
"And why the torch dulleyes? Afraid o' somethin'?"
Then he seems to shrug, and points to you with a firm finger.
"Lead the way! I shall follow!"
[sblock=Rolls]
Insight: 1D20 = [1] = 1
Critical Fail! lolz[/sblock]