The Frost before the Storm

[JoshBright 3014]

 

The Frost before the Storm

 

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“It’s awake, and it shall not sleep, not easily, either it gets what it wants, or it shall cover the land.”

 

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In recent days, the lands of Petra have suffered a sharp and unnatural drop in temperature, the cold arriving too swiftly and too deliberately to be chance alone. Alongside this change, disturbing sightings have been reported by travelers, guards, and towns folk alike.

 

In response to troubling reports of unnatural cold and strange sightings east of Petra, a group of Petran scouts and volunteers was dispatched to investigate the disturbance. What had begun as rumors of sudden frost and silent forests quickly revealed itself to be something far more dangerous.

 

As the scouting party traveled deeper into the eastern wilds, the land itself began to change. Frost spread across the ground and trees where none should have been, the cold intensifying with every step. Soon after, the forest fell unnaturally silent. Birds vanished from the canopy, insects ceased their chorus, and even the wind stilled, leaving behind a crushing stillness that pressed in from all sides.

 

That silence did not last.

 

Faint whispers crept through the air, disembodied and impossible to place. They seemed to come from the trees, the frozen earth, and even the sky above, surrounding the group while never revealing their source. As the whispers grew, so too did the cold, dropping with alarming speed as though the land itself had turned hostile.

 

Then the voice revealed itself.

 

A wretched, ancient presence tore through the blizzard, echoing again and again as it demanded to know who dared trespass upon its land. The voice claimed dominion over the region and spat venom toward the scouts, mocking druids and nobles alike. It demanded submission, calling the rulers of Idunia false, and declared Petra itself a city doomed to fall beneath the frost.

 

When the scouts refused to yield, the land answered in violence.

 

A sudden blizzard engulfed the group, snow and wind whipping into a violent storm that isolated each individual within their own pocket of freezing white. Visibility vanished, movement slowed as ice clung to armor and flesh, and the scouts found themselves surrounded as the storm abruptly cleared.

 

Frostbound warriors emerged from the snow. Oathbound knights, archers, frozen casters and soldiers closed in from all sides, supported by a malignant shrine hidden within a frozen tree. The shrine pulsed with cold power, empowering the frostbound and dulling flames, while mages hurled ice and frost into the fray.

 

Despite injuries, roots of ice, and relentless pressure, the Petran force fought back. Fire and steel tore through the frostbound ranks, bolts and blades finding their marks as the enemy numbers thinned. The Frostbound Shrine became the focal point of the battle, its influence warping the battlefield itself.

 

In a final, desperate exchange, combined flames broke through the shrine’s defenses. The tree screamed as its frozen shell cracked and melted, its power unraveling. Frostbound warriors attempted to shield it and failed, burning and collapsing into snow. With the shrine destabilized, the remaining frostbound forces fell one by one, and the unnatural cold finally began to retreat.

 

Before its presence vanished entirely, the voice returned one last time.

 

It praised the scouts’ strength, but warned them that this victory was meaningless in the face of what was to come. It vowed that Petra would fall to the frost, that Idunia would follow, and that its king would be reduced to a thrall beneath its frozen dominion.

 

Then the voice faded, carried away by the wind.

 

As the battle ended, the temperature slowly rose. Frost loosened its grip on stone and steel, and the forest began, hesitantly, to breathe once more. Yet the scars remained, and the warning lingered heavier than the cold ever had.

 

This was no random anomaly. This was a claim.

 

The frost has withdrawn for now, but it has not been defeated. It watches from beyond the borders, waiting for its moment to return and claim what it believes is rightfully its own.

 

The war has not yet begun.

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Spoiler

I hope those who attend the event today enjoyed it, I do plan to make it the first of many. If there is enough demand i will make an event discord and branch out to other places to host in order to give the event more variety.  

 

[SharpString 429]

 

Finnean laid in bed, resting from his sword wound. “At least no one was lost to those blasted things...” He muttered, before falling quickly to sleep…

 

[Rhettthecoldone 252]

Alford Reinhold sat at his desk, comforted to know he was back within the walls of Dun Moindamh, his family’s house. The Agnethe thought of Finnean and Siegfried, wishing them both good fortune whilst their wounds healed. Even though he was able to withstand those frostbitten wretches for now, he knew he needed to learn more and more if he were to protect Petra, his home.