Yeah, that's weird. Doesn't rule out that they're demons, but it's less likely. The patrol wizard's snowy owl familiar flies wearily over to get a look at them.

Two men, the older one lanky with a bow and quiver, the younger broad-shouldered with leather bracers, and a youngish teenager with a nice satchel, all dressed for desert heat and not evidently dying of frostbite and hypothermia, occasionally grumbling at each other but mostly just stumping exhaustedly through the snow.  Does the owl have any unusual senses?  Does the owl speak Osiriani?

The owl does not have any unusual senses and can't speak any languages, because it is an owl, not a raven. It observes them and circles back, flying slow enough that they can follow where it's headed.

The man with the bow notices first, nudges his companions and calls out something- there's a brief irritated-sounding exchange in the language the owl doesn't speak before the little party notices the distant patrol and picks up the pace to follow.  As much as they can, anyway; despite not freezing they're clearly unused to moving through snow, and worn out besides.

The imposing edifice of #11 isn't far off anymore and it comes into view. Oddly, it's not flying any flags at the moment.

The little party confers briefly as they crest the rise and spot it, most of the affect being relief if the owl is still keeping an eye on them.  Finding it easier going once they reach the patrol's tramped-down path, the larger man waves and calls in thickly accented Common Taldane, "Hallooo!  This is who fort?  We are very lost, thank you!"

"Chelish fort!" calls back one of the fighters from the patrol.

Some wariness but mainly shrugs: apparently Chelish Fort is less than ideal but far better than endless snowstorm.  Trudge trudge after the patrol towards the possibility of Indoors.

There's an area by the front door with enough shelter from the wind to be marginally less miserable to stand in, but then they have to stand there and wait till someone can be by with Detect spells. They can wait with the patrollers while a guy up on the wall watches them.

The teenager slumps against the wall; the fighter glowers out at the snow; the presumably-ranger checks on a small bundle in the front of his shirt and if the guy on the wall is at the right angle, he can spot a tawny cat's ears before he covers her back up and wraps an arm around her.  He seems to be doing somewhat better than the others, and tries out some similarly rusty Taldane.  "Very happy to find you.  We packed only for a day journey, did not know how far north we land.  Last of our food we ate yesterday, except the camel."  He winces slightly at this. 

"There's food inside. But we weren't expecting you so you need Detecting even more than the regular patrol. You see any demons on your way here?"

He nods, unsurprised by the caution.  "No, your bird is the first we see three days."

"Camel is six hours north," adds the larger man.  "If most dead camel you think worth walk back, all yours."

"Four hours, shorter days."

This gets an eyeroll.  "Since dawn walk.  Whatever."

"It's probably not even on short rations, but good to know."

Here comes the commander in his coat, suited for the weather.

He's got an Iomedaean holy symbol dangling out in front of the buttons.

The ranger blinks at the sword-and-sun and nudges the teenage- wizard?, who's been huddled into the lee of the wall, eyes closed, and the larger man steps forward, evidently the spokesman for the group.  "Hello.  Thank you find us.  I am Tariq, this is Omar," the ranger, "Khalid," the wizard.  "We are very lost."  He's glowering at the situation in general, but doesn't seem to be glowering at the commander in particular any more than anything else.

"Yes. This is Fort #11 at the Worldwound's northern border. I'm Commander Artigas. Do you expect that any of you are strong enough to be detectably aligned?"

He shrugs.  "No-", pauses to confer with the ranger briefly in Osiriani, "not likely.  Soon maybe?"  They certainly don't have any visible gear good enough to suggest it, even accounting for being in entirely the wrong climate.  

He nods. He Detects Magic, first, that's an orison.

A faint evocation aura on the bow and another faint aura on the satchel- no, two, one abjuration and one conjuration.

"What's the magic on the bag?"

"Scroll for remove magic, wand for cure wound.  Half used."

All right, that showing all the expected results he'll cast his Detect Chaos for the day.

Nobody here pings.

"Admit them," he tells his men, and the doors open.

"Thank you."  They follow the patrol in, having a hissed Osiriani conversation in which he can probably catch "Iomedae?"  Once the doors close behind them (the wizard jumps), the ranger undoes the bundle and lets a half-grown sand-colored cat out to ride on his shoulder, where she starts grooming a paw with a decided air of definitely having been huddling in a spare pair of pants because she chose to not because she had to.  

Does the entryway of the fort have any obvious places to sit down, or are they being shepherded in a particular direction?