[Empire, pseudo-private] A song of Ice and more Ice.

[zabbarot]

Jonas waited patiently next to the campfire. In the time it took to deliver the news they could have already been to speak with the King of Glazfell, but Mosi wanted to respect their request to stay. Also they didn't know the way. Frosten were curious creatures, able to navigate the nearly solid wall of falling snow with relative ease, and while Jonas' winter coat was thick enough to make the cold tolerable he did not relish it at all they way they did. He half suspected the fire was only built solely for his benefit. Mosi on the other hand exuded a warmth all his own. He had once heard that monks at the Temple of Fire could enter a kind of meditative state to stay warm, but he'd never really had a reason to learn. Now he wished he had.

As Jonas clung to heat of the fire Mosi paced the camp. His wide paws had slowly melted a rut nearly a foot and a half deep into the snow. He stopped suddenly and sat down looking off into the distance. "They will be here soon, brother."

[BladeofObliviom]

Sorry for the wait and doubly sorry for the sloppy writing. Been surprisingly busy and distracted. :smallfrown:


A break of Saenzskarot eventually arrive, bearing arms, armor, and the Heraldry of House Daan. Four of the five are armed with Darkstar Iron Glaives with a sword at their side, while the center rider wears an ornamented mace. All five are armored in plate and tabard. At any rate, as the group approaches the pair of Mashahidi, the central figure removes her helmet, revealing (as is likely obvious by now) her identity as King Ghalle Daan. Normally she does not come to meet with religious figures dressed for war, but this is a special case. After all, how did she know that they were not simply clever beasts claiming to that which they were not? Surely some caution is in order!

"Greetings, Shahidi Mkuu Mosi and Shahidi Jonas; I am Lady Ghalle of House Daan, Firstborn of King Khyne, King of Glazfell. I was told that you wished to speak with me, and while the manner of meeting is most unorthodox I cannot rightly deny either of you my audience."

While Ghalle was not one to chill at the sight of spirits and magic, there was nevertheless a sense of discomfort about her. After all, she had watched both of these men die in Tzalteclan, and there was no natural creature she knew that could so simply spring up once more after such a fate. She knew that Mosi at least had done so twice before, as Shvedrishti and Xochiconetl, but nevertheless it is a very different thing to hear about such a happening than to meet the same man twice.

The Honor Guards at her side keep their weapons relaxed with the lack of any overt threat, though they too are clearly somewhat nervous around such magic.

[zabbarot]

Sorry, I didn't meant to guilt trip you. I was just being impatient, and dramatic :smalltongue: I'm pretty excited about this, and I think you'll like it.

Mosi stood then bowed low, bending his forward pairs of legs to the point that it almost looked like a stretch. "Salutations, King Ghalle Daan. The years have been kind to you I see." He sat back on his haunches as he spoke. He was a powerfully built and regal looking beast. A mane the color of Raaneki wine wreathed his almost human face. His mouth seemed overwide though, and there was no hiding the rows of razor like teeth when he spoke. He had an unfamiliar accent, but it was hard to tell if it was because of his form or a distant culture he'd been born into.

"Please let me put you at ease. I understand this is an unusual meeting, but your men insisted I wait here. I have much to tell you about what is brewing over the wall in the east. You may wish to sit down for this." He motioned with one paw to the ground in front of him. With another he clawed rifts across the snow sending flurries into the air between them. The flurries did not settle though. Instead they continued to swirl and drift through the air, as if waiting for something.

"We were born to a she'er tribe south east over the mountains. They are a nomadic tribe that roams the steppes of that land." As he spoke images formed in the swirling snow. They were vibrant and full colored. One could almost feel the heat of the steppes as they were described. "We left our tribe early, as is their custom. The men are expected to go out and find their own family, either by forming their own or claiming another's, very interesting, but that's not what you're here to hear of."

He raised a paw and swatted at the swirling image in front of him. The scene changed suddenly to one of frozen lands not unlike where they currently were. "The she'er were having trouble with northerners poaching from their lands, so we did what came natural and went to investigate." The image shifted, showing the two of them traveling across the frozen lands. "Unfortunately we were captured. The northerners are... like you in a way, but whatever magic allows you to survive these frozen lands runs much stronger in them. They answer to one they call Marmora." He appeared before them. His skin was as white as fresh snow and he was dressed in armor that looked to be plate of true ice. Frosten were gathered around him. Their skin ranged from white to a pale blue. He called out to the sky in a language they were unfamiliar with then touched the bound forms of Mosi and Jonas. In moments there were frozen under nearly a foot of ice. At that the image faded away.

"Unfortunately we do not know how we came to cross over the ice wall. Perhaps Yphine took pity on us. It coudl have been another, but I do not believe it is coincidence that we awoke in your lands."

[HalfTangible]

A young woman - barely into her twenties, if at all - had come on the request of King Ghalle, and was accompanied by her own guards. The young woman was clothed plainly but bore herself with an unmistakeable regal air. She seemed untroubled by the cold, and in fact the air seemed even colder around her. She didn't say anything yet, simply observing.

[BladeofObliviom]

Okay, so I must have rewritten this like five times because it just seemed out of character, strange, or inappropriately confrontational. And then I had to go to class, so I ended it sort of abruptly.

"Marmora...the Marbled One?", Ghalle mutters as she listens to the tale, and she gasps in surprise as the figure in the vision wields magic not dissimilar to that of the High Priestess who just arrived.

"You have both been through much. If you wish, I can provide you a ship to Grizzland, so that you may return to your homelands."

[zabbarot]

"You would know better than I. Their language, to me at least, seems similar to the native tongue of these lands." At the king's question Hushyarr only shook his head. "We have more places to go before heading home, though we would appreciate food and escort to your western border, if you were willing. But before we part ways I have one more thing for you both. A gift from the gods." Hushyarr looked into the sky. His shoulders went slack, and his mouth fell open revealing row upon row of teeth. From somewhere deep within him a voice welled up, wholly inhuman.


"Across wall of ice and sheet of snow
Where wandering souls dare not go
Sleep, cold Marmora

Waking from her rest she does arise
With deathly glare and frozen eyes
Rise, cold Marmora

Long lost her heart, but once more unearthed
With hateful sight sees foe rebirthed
March, cold Marmora

Endless snow her blessing leaves behind
Where, southern creatures much maligned
Slay, cold Marmora"