The Frostfather Calls

[Tide1 4535]

 

Spoiler

 

 

It is so very cold here. Where no life yet dwells, and all things sleep, the earth here is as unforgiving as Wyrvun’s teeth. And yet I would call this place my home. This familiar, frozen place has beckoned my name upon its wind, and I, like snow, have been at its mercy. I could not shake this wanderlust, this longing.

 

And I encountered upon this journey all manners of ghoulish wildlife and restless dead. A mockery of this land frozen in time, where the souls do pass, but frozen bones remain. Yet here are souls now made to dwell, forever caged within their frozen remains, forever doomed to linger. Even here, in this land of sorrows, is Wyrvun’s will opposed. The land is choked, thick with the corruption that once laid hands upon our master. And I am ever certain that these howling winds are a plea for help. 

 

So I shall walk further, where the lines between Isvin and Azuras draw thin. I shall hear him, there, and be sure at last of my purpose here. Know then, remnants of Fenn, that should I not return - I was never worthy of your legacy.

 

- Aesindil Tundrak, Wyrvun’s Call, to the scattered sons and daughters of the tundra.

 

 

 

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Cold, dark, and forgotten. The realm of the midnight Sun offered no solace.
What little wildlife had once lingered upon its edges had long since faded into absence, and rations grew ever scarcer. This was no place for the living, nor the dead. The occasional frozen cadaver, the likes of which not even Iblees could spur to life, slumbered here. And in spite of his preparedness, would he not long turn back, this place would too become Aesindil's final rest.

Quiet were the woods. The prince’s only company here would be the whisper of the wind, and the distant shimmer of boreal lights, whenever Wyrvun’s temper permitted a brief sundering of the snow-laden skies. Day and night were rendered meaningless here; the sun did not rise, nor did it fall. Thus, it was without knowing how long he had walked that the Mali’Fenn found himself stepping into a sudden clearing.

The winds fell still around him, and thoughts stirred. Was this where they had taken him?

Across the glade, far off and faint beneath the auroral glow, something shimmered - a pale gleam reflecting the heavens above. Purpose stirred anew within, and he hastened his stride toward the heart of the clearing.

 

A blade, embedded within the permafrost, steeped in Wyrvun’s cold embrace, stood before him undisturbed. And as the prince reached forth to lay his hand upon the hilt, the winds returned, a baneful gale. Snow whisked across the clearing, and in that swirling veil, the glade revealed its true nature. A vast frozen lake lay beneath him, black and fathomless, and Wyrvun’s fang pierced ‘pon an island, its center. Was this the threshold to Isvin? The Frostfather’s blizzard grew worse once more, and Aesindil cast his gaze downward. Beneath the darkened ice, he thought he glimpsed movement - shapes, vast and indistinct, drifting in the depths below as the wind bellowed his name. But the storm grew merciless, forcing him at last to withdraw, his vision blurred by snow and doubt alike. He turned back toward the sheltering line of boreal wood, uncertain whether what he had seen - or heard - had been truth or trial. Yet when at last he reached the forest’s edge and cast his eyes downward, he beheld what no soul could deny.

In his grasp lay the blade - its nature unmistakable.

“I heed thy call, Wyrvun.”

 

Spoiler

All art here is AI-slop. Just a little post I wanted to write with some added flavor regarding this relic. Formatting currently feels pretty ass btw.

[KBR 2046]

An ancient Orenian supersoldier rolled over in his slumber, shifting the pile of gold that was his rather uncomfortable bed. The lizardman was increasingly plagued by returning nightmares, Sutica, Mori, now a Tundrak? The world's balance was shifting, and it wasn't because of any Staglord nor Wraith. 

[Morigung-oog 5697]

31 minutes ago, KBR said:

An ancient Orenian supersoldier rolled over in his slumber, shifting the pile of gold that was his rather uncomfortable bed. The lizardman was increasingly plagued by returning nightmares, Sutica, Mori, now a Tundrak? The world's balance was shifting, and it wasn't because of any Staglord nor Wraith. 

 

Another ancient Orenian loyalist stirred, her nose wrinkling in evident disgust. On instinct, she readied her weapons, and so too readied herself for an almighty crusade. "Like damnable roaches, these frost-fuckers are."

[Turnipian 212]

A young Vigilant would stir from her meditation upon a mountain of Fin'hesin, their golden eye looking down from where she had perched herself.
They too would observe the corruption upon that icy tundra, with a disdainful glance to the skies, she would contemplate what she had felt within Isvin, the ANGER she had felt from him when she was between life and death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Spellblades 751]

Eloir Drakon opened his eyes suddenly in the late hours of the night, the cabin he had built himself out in the Tundra shaking as the snowstorm outside raged. He knew that his time was near, but when? He often asked himself through the years why he'd served Wyrvun for so long. He still didn't know the answer as his eyes closed once more, falling into a deep meditation.