Redhawk Caldera I'd rather make it mine.

Enemies should not be left alive, but snuffed out as soon as possible. Enemies always come back.

Fire's attack had only strengthened his desire to eliminate Blackfeather Woods, and so he set out, looking for the landmarks she had mentioned. Forests and mountains are one thing--fairly vague--but a caldera. . .now that would be something to stick out. And from his vantage point atop Moonspear, he had noticed something that resembled that kind of landform--and just like that, he has a lead.

Llewellyn finds the base of it easily; the climb is just as facile, owing to his treks up and down his new home. He meanders through the trees, taking in every scent he can: who has been here, who has stayed. No one permanently, since the Redhawks left. But there are a few smells to follow, and he tracks the most recent, wandering up, up, up. . .

The man he finds at the plateau is a wretched sight, pale and thin, with only one eye and a grotesque scar ringing his throat. Nevertheless, Llewellyn chuffs to him in greeting, squaring his shoulders in case this rogue should be dangerous. "Nice view," he remarks casually, getting the conversation rolling. He'll keep the small talk going only for a little while; he wants to get down to business.