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Rays of sun pierced an overcast sky. Bathed in their light upon the snowy Rimeveld, the remnants of the Snow Elves assembled around an icy pond. Pale faces young and old alike mingled - veterans of the Princedom and those birthed since the most recent Cataclysm. The vapor of their breaths mingled in the frozen air. Upon a large stone at the pond’s center ascended Vytrek Tundrak. Nimble digits curled around the wooden shaft of his spear, against which he shifted his weight. Wasting no time, he spoke. “My friends, my kin, my comrades - Mali’fenn. You have traveled far to meet here, from every corner of the realm. This is the largest gathering of our people since the shattering of Tahu’lareh. I thank you for agreeing to it with open minds and hopeful hearts.” “I do not need to remind you of our struggles since the Princedom’s collapse. A people without a home, we have suffered in silence, our lives tied to fickle lands and our fates bound to foreign rulers.” “This is not our way. Many of you served in the Princedom. You will remember its life, its strength, and its glory. When we struggle together, there is much we can achieve.” As the young Tundrak spoke, an ocean of grey clouds churned overhead. From the sky, it came in flutters at first - the small, pale shapes of snowflakes dancing upon a northern wind. It would grow until the summit found itself amidst a veritable sea of white, and so it was said that Wyrvun himself made attendance upon that gathering of his devotees. Reassured, Vytrek continued. “I accept the role my own blood has played in our people’s fall from grace with a solemn resolution. My bloodline has incurred a debt to our people. I now ask that you grant me the opportunity to pay it off - surely, a task that will consume me until my final breath. I would see our people reunited.” “Normal circumstances would not warrant a summit to ensure succession. But, with the fall of the Princedom and the abdications of my past three predecessors, these are not normal circumstances. My brother Aldred and my half-brother Akkar have both abdicated the throne. My father Aelthos is nowhere to be found, and any other Tundrak of our line is either missing or deceased. It is long-past due that I should step up and accept that it is my time to lead our people, and I welcome the responsibilities that have been passed unto me as my father and his father had done. Thus, before the sight of divine and descendant, I - Vytrek Tundrak, son of Aelthos III, grandson of Aelthir II, Valkyr to Aldred and Akkar - stake my claim as the rightful heir to our people, to rule as Prince of the Fennic Remnants until I see fit to reform our Princedom and revive its titles.” “But, one man does not a nation make. A prince without a princedom is little more than a vagrant, and a princedom without its people is a hollow ruin. Thus I have come to ask you to recognize my claim, and to bring our people together once more. I would now hear from you. Who speaks first?” Thereafter, many Snow Elves would ascend the stone one-by-one. They spoke of their Princedom of old, little more than lingering memories. They spoke of their hardships upon Fenn’s fall. Most importantly, however, they spoke of hope; hope for a brighter future, together. Throughout the course of the summit, a Haenseni rally would pay a visit, and the long-lost prince Akkar Tundrak found his way home - mustering enough strength to offer his encouragement. In time, however, the stone would be vacated - and so Vytrek would once more step forth, ascending. “Having heard the voices of our people, I now ask the bloodlines to take the first step, so that we might charge headlong into our shared destiny. Archons - what say you?” First to step forth was Kindrel Araaloq, meandering out onto the ice to stand at stone’s edge. Though her bloodline’s recognition was new, they had proven early supporters. She was eager to make known their resolve. “I have been your advisor for two years, and your friend for twice as long. In this time, no one has spoken as you have; none have envisioned as you have. The performance of your predecessors has haunted you, but it is YOUR actions which show us a promise for a new future: a world in which violence does not always answer violence, and that there is mercy where there is room for it. A new dawn in which our children and their children can flourish unafraid of the shadow of instability. Because we wish to be a part of the legacy you've committed to, and because you bestowed your faith in us where others have not, our Archon Darcassan and all of his line swear fealty to the great unifier and rightful prince Vytrek Tundrak, son of Aelthos III, grandson of Aelthir II, and vow to treat your needs as our own.” Following on her heels was Valerica Tathvir, taking the young Araaloq’s place. An esteemed healer and confidant of the old Princedom, her bloodline had survived the Cataclysm relatively intact. They were prepared to come home. “For centuries the Tathvirs have followed the Tundraks, aided them in what way we can. Since the collapse of the Princedom, I have done what I could to keep the Tathvir bloodline strong and connected. With your return I once again offer the allegiance of the Tathvirs, to stand by you and aid in whatever way we can.” Thereafter stood Velatha Sylric, veteran soldier of the Ivae’fenn and an emblem of lengthy service. She knelt before the stone, and those of her blood within the assembly followed suit. "I, Velatha Sylric, present the Sylric bloodline to swear upon our lives towards the cause of the resurgence of the Mali'fenn. We thusforth recognize the claim of His Highness, Vytrek Tundrak, as the rightful ruler of our people. Our blades are yours. Our forges ablaze awaiting your command to create the tools needed to pave the way for our people to thrive once more. While we have been shattered, spread far and thin by the events of the past, we are here as we always have been to be loyal servants and protectors of the Mali'fenn. Wyrvun il'kaean ito!" With a salute, she meandered back upon the ice, and Ithilion Drakon stepped forth - proud as a lion. A veteran of the Atlasian Ivae’fenn, he had presided over a great Drakon resurgence. Now, representing the remnants of his bloodline, the elder ‘fenn inclined his chin. Within his clutch rests a trident. "I, Ithilion Drakon, represent the ancient Drakon Bloodline, founded in the days of old by Celennor Drakon. Today marks a new chapter for our people, one that promises a prosperous and thriving future for our kind. As I stand here, I swear fealty to you, just as I've sworn myself to your ancestors over four hundred years ago. I swear upon this trident and my blood, once more, everlasting loyalty to the Tundrak Bloodline, to the new Mali'fenn age and the new Prince, Vytrek Tundrak, first of his name and builder of the nation!” With a nod, he descended once more, to be replaced by Varan Atmorice. Donning the armor of a Valkyr, Varan had proven one of their people’s most skilled soldiers. In the blunt manner of his profession, he spoke. "As Archon of the Atmorice Bloodline, I swear to serve this blessed Princedom until my Eternal Slumber.” Thereafter, the noble Varan descended. Gliding across the ice came Krenanteon Stolt’aroloth, that Fennic sage whose silver tongue had spread his reputation far and wide in the Princedom of yore. A mentor to the young Vytrek, the Stolt’aroloth looked upon him with pride. “Since the dawn of our people, the Stolt’aroloths have stood by the side of the Tundraks. We have devoted ourselves to lifting the spirits of our kin through song and story, guiding them upon a righteous path, and when necessary, taking up arms to defend them. Today, I come to provide these things once again. That you, Vytrek, have united so many of our wayward kin together, after such trials and travesties, is testament enough to your right to lead us. So, as I pledged myself to Aelthir II, in days long passed, I pledge myself to you now, Vytrek Tundrak, in the name of the ancient and respected bloodline of Stolt’aroloth. I vow to devote my sword, my mind, my pen, and above all, the fervent loyalty of my family towards a new nation for our people. I offer you the highest tribute a member of my family can bestow. The cactus crown. Wear it with pride, my Prince.” With a smile, Vytrek accepted this gift, tucking it away in his pack. With the Archons assembled in a circle upon the ice, around the pond’s stone, Vytrek’s attention returned to the gathering. His words were brief. “It is done. I declare the foundation of our Fennic Remnants.” An uncharacteristic cheer arose from the ranks of the Mali’fenn. With relief and elation etched upon their pale countenances, they closed that dark chapter of their history, and looked to the next. It would be a long road ahead. A northern road.