• Closed • Stories of a Coming Frost

[Incubus]

Tracking Thread

72nd of Ymiden - 78th of Ymiden

"The White Silence. Brought on by the Obelisk of Ati'el, it is a phenomena that has begun to spread through the roots of the West, from birch trees to each and every blade of grass. Once, they say, the Heart of the World was not so surrounded by a ring of ice as now - but after the fall of the Selfish, Ati'el, the world around her Tower began to alter. It is not known if somehow, latently, she prowls within the halls she left upon the finalization of her demise.

But something does lay there. Something powerful, sheer and perfect. It was once said that miles around the Tower were unreachable, shrouded in a violence of freezing gusts that made it madness to even consider entry. Now, the same words are spoken, but for dozens of miles. Some say it will be hundreds before long.

The frost is spreading, and everything within it goes dark. Where the Horde once settled well into the Northern Reaches, the settlements that once stood have lived silent for hundreds of arcs. For this reason, it is called the White Silence, this phenomena of the Black Tower's spreading cold. It cannot go on any longer.

For this reason, the Great Shaman of the Free Tribesmen has embarked on a journey to find heroes - saviors to force the Silence into a deafening roar. He claims that they have found the source of the blight of cold, a great levitating structure near to the Tower known as the Obelisk of Ati'el. Sending shards outward to chill the land around them, this apparently sapient structure has been marked as the bringer of the Silence.

Promising rewards and secrets from the maw of Abanaxus, the Shaman -- known to you as Kem -- has sent you to the northern wastes with an artifact of incredible perplexity, capable of holding the Silence at bay while you travel into the depths of the unknown and destroy the source of this plague."

. . .

Each of you, individually. Geminius, Covah, Fridgar, Aeon, Anakol and Robin. You have all been selected by the Oracle of the Free Men to confront the Obelisk, and have been gathered from lands near and far to work together in this task.

This story will begin in an abandoned fortress north of Raen Kai, where all of you have been called. You will gather, meet and be introduced individually before the Shaman sets your task and sends you all forth on your mission into the north. Please post as soon as possible -- your order of posting will determine the post order for this thread.

Rules
1. You must post within three days of the previous poster. If you do not post within 72 hours of the previous poster, you will be barred from posting that turn. If this happens multiple (3) times, you will be expelled from the thread and disallowed from the plot. There are no exceptions. If you must, you can make a post just to keep things moving if you truly can't make it in time. However, notice of hiatus/etc is not valid. This plot has too many players to allow for even one or two of them to hold up the plot.
2. By joining this questline you accept that you may face severe injury, and possibly even death with your permission. However, I will be fair and not force consequences upon players arbitrarily.
3. Players will all be given rewards at a fairly equal level. Rewards will certainly be within this plot, but I ask that people do not try to hoard them and hide them from the group, it just gets people salty.
4. You are all making the plot, not just responding to it. Please feel free to throw in curveballs and improvise, as long as you're not deciding plot secrets/etc for yourself.

With all of that in mind, welcome to the Seat of the Selfish plot. I'll be posting after all of you have joined in! Please be aware that if you do not post your intro by July 25th, I will be expelling you from the plot.

[Varthakh]

Wearing every piece of clothing he had, Fridgar settled into the abandoned fortress. He leaned against the wall of the room they were in, checking out the other participants of the event. He, himself, was adorned with a surprisingly little amount of fabric, baring only a leather loin cloth, the pelt of a Feldorei which clung loosely to his otherwise bare back and the skull of one such creature, cleaned and dried to appear almost synthetic, moulded. But no, this had once been on the inside of another animal and he wore it as a helm.

He stood seven feet tall with a frame broad enough to have to step sideways through a door, manoeuvring around houses must have been a nightmare for this man. Not only was he tall and broad, but sported rippling muscle and countless scars all over his tanned skin. An axe of black metal leaned next to him with the head resting on the floor and the pole ready to be taken into a fighting stance at any given trill. On the matter of his axe, it had previously been eight-foot long. Fridgar found the length to be... obstructive. In return for the adjustments to the pole of his Terrendyte Broad Axe, Fridgar had given the metal itself to the smith along with twenty gold nel, as agreed upon. The axe now stood six feet tall, a foot shorter than himself and taller than some men in the room.

His brown mane had been tied back into a thick brown pony tail, keeping most of his hair from his eyes. His eyes were different. One was completely black from canvas to pupil while the other was a brown iris that seemed to cover the whole of his eye. Any that knew magic would know him to be a mage from a mile away, even as he avoided eye contact with everyone in the room. The corruption of his shy eyes prevented much social interaction, but it didn't stop him from scouting out his new comrades.

There was Aeon, who he recognised. Perhaps his best friend whom had fought through countless dangerous beasts with him, and after this they would fight a Lurker. Aeon was something else, a knight of Rynmere, or an ex knight that acted with boundless courage and surprising strength in all their battles. No matter the situation, he could always count on this human to have his back. He was a brilliant addition to the team and Fridgar wouldn't have it any other way.

Then there was Anakol the Lotharro, whom he'd only recently met on a Stekir hunt. He was a good guy, though the Spurrsyte he kept in his hair freaked Fridgar out a little. The only problem with him being here was that his common was absolute bollocks, Fridgar spoke both Haltunga and common fluently but he already knew it was going to be a pain in the arse to translate everything for the pup. He would do it anyway, Anakol was decent enough with his axe and probably managed to pick up a thing or two from Fridgar when they took on the pack of Stekir, he would make a fine addition to the team.

The next man he looked to, he recognised him, though he was unsure from where. He was a Lotharro, well-built and tall too. When at last he recognised him, the bigger Lothar would roll his brown eye. This guy worked at Alistair's clinic as a veterinarian, if he was right, he'd also met him in Nidhoffnir once? The details were fuzzy. From what he knew of the man, he was a nice enough guy, liked his animals. Perhaps after they were done here, Fridgar would have to bring his Scython cub over for an inspection or something, then would be a good time to break the ice and/or apologise for anything he did in Nidhoffnir. With all the muscle this guy was packing, Fridgar was sure that he'd pack one hell of a punch to whatever foes they might face, perhaps provide support in the form of trained animals? He'd make an excellent addition to the team.

Then there was a human... Or what the unobservant Lothar perceived to be a human. He stood a little shorter than six feet tall and had a... Twinky sort-of vibe about him. He was attractive, for sure. Some aspiring Havendals out there would likely want him in their beds immediately, though Fridgar was uninterested. He cast his brown eye to Anakol and the other Lothar whose name he did not know, perhaps they'd be interested in making a Kindal in the following trials? Regardless, he saw no obvious use for the human, perhaps his skills were elsewhere? Perhaps he was a powerful mage? Unlikely, he didn't seem to have any corruptions. Regardless, he must have had some talent that the others could exploit. Though unsure, he believed the human to be an asset and a great addition to the team. Why else would this 'Kem' have chosen him?

And the last one in the room besides Kem was... another human. He was roughly the same size as the first human, maybe a bit a shorter. Even so, he packed a lot more muscle, an athletic body type. At first glance, Fridgar would have dismissed him as a light weapon's user, maybe a shadow dancer? Then he saw his freckles, though, they weren't any ordinary freckles. They were in higher concentration around his hands, not as many around his nose as one would expect. As odd as it was, Fridgar ended up dismissing it as a birth defect. If he really was the small arms wielder he perceived him to be, then he'd make a great partner next to Aeon, maybe they'd even be able to compete or something? Fridgar looked forward to seeing this man on the field. Wherever his talents lie, the biggest Lothar on the room was glad to have him.

That was everyone, everyone in their company. It was a shame Alistair couldn't be here, Fridgar had been ripped from their honeymoon to save the north from this thing, it had better be worth his time. His bare foot would tap the stone floor of the hall with impatience. Maybe he should break the ice or something? Though it was unlikely that everyone spoke the same language. If he could remember correctly, the two other Lotharen in the room were both as bollocks at common as each other, perhaps he should ask if they wanted any help?

"You two," Fridgar spoke in Haltunga to the other Lotharen. "I don't suppose either of you are any better at speaking Common? I don't think the humans speak our tongue. If you'd like, I can introduce you to them, but I don't know both your names. I am Fridgar, by the way," he offered with a turn of his hand, still holding the skull of the Feldorei by its jaw protrusion. he would then roll his shoulders, the weight of the concealed straps on his collar bone were starting to chafe. Very gently, the Lothar bent down in a squat and laid down the skull before producing a large leather pleated, water proof bag with straps from beneath the Feldorei pelt.

After removing most of the weight from his form, he stood up straight and cleared his throat. "What's up?" He asked casually in common to no one in particular as he leaned back against the wall. "I'm Fridgar, for those of you who don't know me," if Anakol and Covah had asked to be introduced, he would give their names also. After they'd introduced themselves or abstained, Fridgar would then nod, smiling. "So, what can you guys do? What are your strengths, brothers?" He spoke in common for the humans and Haltunga for the Lotharen. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I don't think many of you speak Haltunga? I'll gladly translate anything you want to say to the other Lotharen. If there’s anything you want to be said to the humans, I'll do my best to deliver your messages."

Looking about the room, he saw no probable candidates for his next question, but thought it best to try. He held out his large clawed paw before using elemental manipulation to summon a ball of crackling lightning in his palm. It would glow a brilliant light blue as it fizzled and jumped between digits, sending sheets of radiant energy down his arm. "Do we have any other mages? Do either of you know magic, brothers?"

[Covah]

Covah pulled his coat tight against his muscled frame, slightly uncomfortable from the heat of the summer. He was dressed for winter's gales in preparation of their icy quest. A red bandanna hung loose around his neck, collecting stray strands of sweat which trickled down his neck. His pale green coat was open, revealing the tattered and bloodied white shirt which lay underneath. Thick brown pants hugged his legs and were paired with his sturdy hunting boots. The colors would have hidden him well in the forests and fields that were his home in Alfweyr territories, but they did little to blend in the Stalhmark's territories.

Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, Covah pressed forward towards his destination astride his hunting horse Russel. Forming a diamond around the horse was Covah's pack; a motley group of hounds that Covah called family before anyone else. Taranis, a massive beast of black fur as well as his familiar, had taken point. Brynn and Soren were flanking the Lotharro on either side, ears perked for any sound that indicated trouble. Delilah, the smallest of the pack and its resident tracker, trailed behind the rest of the pack at an even pace. Together, the bonds of family were forged strong between them. Today, however, Covah felt as if they were more a warband than a family.

The young Lotharro sighed quietly to himself as they slowly trot up that winding road. He couldn't imagine himself being here a season ago. Couldn't imagine answering the call of a Free Tribe shaman who had shown up on his farm's fields not days before, asking him to leave his home behind to beat back the oncoming cold of the Silence. Couldn't imagine riding up to an abandoned fortress in Stahlmark territory, bringing with him only the clothes on his back and all the supplies he could fit into two saddlebags. Here he was, a farm boy from Alfweyr, setting out to join up with a group who were essentially trying to beat the cold into submission.

A deep, throaty laugh sprung from Covah's lips at the absurdity of it all. He knew their mission was serious, that the White Silence was a threat that the Lotharro could no longer afford to ignore, that people's lives and livliehood were on the line, and, by the way the Shaman told it, this was the Horde's first real chance at finding a solution to the creeping cold. He knew that there was a good chance that many of their band, Covah included, might perish on this journey into the Silence. That his corpse might become one of many cold reminders that the worst killers in Uthaldria were not always monsters or men, but the ravages of the land the Lotharro chose to settle.

But here he was! A Bred Lotharro who hadn't even earned Ascension yet, armed only with a lasso and his animals, setting out with a troupe who had no doubt faced more battle than him, trying to stop the White Silence. A small smile grew beneath the red fabric which hid his face. What would the staff at the Brederhan say if they could see that scared little orphan become who he was now? If he survived this journey, perhaps he would pay them a visit in the future.

His thoughts grew quiet, and the rest of the ride up to the keep was bereft of excitement. As he approached the crumbling fortress, Covah looked down to his pack with a mixture of pride and worry. He sent a small prayer to Karem, asking that his family be preserved through this adventure and that they survive the experience. Hopping off his horse, the young Lotharro took a long look at the wilderness before penning the animal, wondering if his goddess was somewhere out in those valleys. Turning his gaze form the hills and towards the halls which beckoned him forth, Covah entered the keep.

It took him little time to find the rest of his party. People milled about, entering and exiting as they pleased, but before long they were all gathered in the same area. Covah cast a appraising eye towards his companions, surprised to see that he actually recognized one amidst their party. A giant among even the Lotharro, the was no mistaking the bear of man who stood in the shadow of this aged fortress. A litany of scars covered his broad frame, each no doubt a story carved into the man's skin, and Covah could still remember the strength that those impressive arms carried.
Armed and armored, Fridgar was even more intimidating than he had remembered.

As for the rest of the group, Covah couldn't say he recognized any of them. There were a few humans in their lot, one of sandy hair and a noble air, another whom who carried with them a soft beauty, and the last whom was covered an alarming amount of dark freckles. Covah couldn't discern much more about them beyond their physical appearance, but he had no doubt that each had accomplished greater things than he for them to be picked by Kem. There was another Lotharro here besides he and Fridgar, who, with a Spurrsyte in his hair, seemed like a man after Covah's own heart. He felt a little awkward, just standing there silently watching his companions. Deciding that there was nothing to do until Kem set their journey in motion, Covah sat quietly next to the furry figures of his dog.

Fridgar's voice rang out in Haltunga, drawing Covah's attention towards him. He was asking how he and the other Loth's Common was, and asking if they wished to be introduced to the humans. He introduced himself to both the other Lotharro and Covah, and the houndmaster realized with embarrassment that the man did not recognize him. Face tinged with red, Covah grabbed the man's open hand. "No, my Common's shite in honesty. Feel free to introduce me, I am Covah. We've, uh, already met," he responded in Haltunga, an awkward smile on his face.

He saw Fridgar then turn to address the rest of their company, alternating between Common and Haltunga for everyone's sake. He had introduced Covah as was requested, and then asked for their party's strengths. Fridgar struck Covah as a decent commander, and as he vaguely remembered from their bar night, even now he was establishing dominance. He would make for a good Alpha, if that was what the Lotharro was attempting, and Covah knew himself better than to try and compete for that dominance. There was honor in following pack order, despite what his familiar Taranis might've urged.

"I am of the Bonde Path, specifically focused on animals. Good with horses, but I'm better with hounds," Covah gestured to the four canines which lounged about the keep lazily. "Taranis and Brynn," he pointed to the black wolf and the grey wolfhound, "are my best hunters and fighters. Soren is swift, and Delilah is my tracker. Myself, well, I'm a Velduris. Means I've got a good sense for prey, be they animal or man. It also means the wold and I are linked. Taranis can talk to me, I can talk to him, and as long as I breath it can't die." Covah thought for a little, trying to scrounge up what else he thought would make him valuable to their journey. "I can take a punch, and I'm alright in a brawl," he added hurriedly. "These fangs aren't just for show after all," Covah let show a slight smile for emphasis, revealing the long canines that every packmate of Karem had. He hoped that his companions would judge him an asset to their mission, as he knew that he was most likely outclassed by his fellows.

Seeing Fridgar conjure a ball of lightning, Covah's fears were confirmed. He shook his head at the man's question, magic had always been something too complicated for the farm boy to get his head around. However, he was glad to have mages among their group. If anyone could figure out the type of magical buggery that had caused this creeping cold, it would be them and their ilk.

Covah listened quietly as the members of their group either answered Fridgar's question or did not, making mental notes of those who had especially unusual abilities. He understood that to be an effective pack, they had to know each other's strengths and weaknesses as well as he knew his own. If they were to defeat the White Silence, they would have to become a pack in their own right.

[Anakol Kallevigson]

Anakol looked up at the once abandoned fortress of Raen Kai as he approached it, his Spurrsyte Chompy in his hair as he contemplated what happened when he was recruited, and what was to come as they approached the obelisk. He wanted the White Silence to stop just as much as anyone else, and while he was not sure if he was the best person for this since it sounded like magic was involved, he would do his best to support the others in the group he was supposed to be meeting. When he saw Fridgar inside the fortress, he immediately relaxed some, smiling at the familiar face. While he was not necessarily the type to be bothered being surrounded by strangers, it was nice to see someone he knew could not only have his back but was able to fight adeptly. He had all of his clothes on, a pair of tattered pants with the hem well chewed by his pet, his shirt was not tattered like his pants were, and he had a pair of boots on as well, though he had never had a need to wear them before now. He figured it'd be a bad idea to walk barefoot through the snow they would no doubt end up encountering. Like when he had gone hunting with the other Lothar, he had brought along his longbow, quiver of arrows, and his broad axe. The bow and quiver were over his shoulder while the axe leaned against it as he carried it casually in one hand. He moved to lean against the wall with Fridgar and glanced at the others. He didn't recognize any right away, but he figured if they were chosen, their talents were all going to come in handy in the upcoming journey and potential battles. Who knew what lay in store?

When Fridgar spoke, Anakol glanced over at him when he offered to introduce them and said, "I would appreciate you introducing me to them, brother. I'll only catch one word every now and then in Common when it is spoken, so I appreciate you translating." He watched as the others spoke and Fridgar introduced him. Regarding his strengths, Anakol said, "I'm pretty handy with a broad axe and am a decent shot with a longbow, but my strength is probably my biggest strength, along with my endurance." He didn't really know what he would say to the strangers, so when Fridgar offered to tell them anything he shrugged and said, "I'm not certain I have anything to say to them yet, perhaps after I get to know them a bit I'd have more to say."

He glanced at Covah when he saw the animals he had with him, looking at them with interest. He wanted a hunting companion of his own, while his Spurrsyte was useful, he wanted something that could actually hunt with him, and the little Spurrsyte, barely as big as one of his fingers, wasn't very useful on its own. He was quickly distracted, however, by the magic that Fridgar displayed. His eyes widened and a smile showed as he said, "While I don't have any magic myself, I've always found myself interested in Becoming. I find the idea of turning into animals and having a more intimate connection with those we hunt to be wildly attractive."

Haltunga

[Robin Stark]

"20 gold nel?"

The merchant nodded, his right hand stretching two fingers upwards and his left making a fist.

Robin shook his head, his face contorting into an expression of disbelief. He pointed at the gloves, the stockings, and the cloak, again, making sure the merchant knew he only wanted those items. He touched them to be sure, "14," he tried, nodding, encouraging, his own hands making the numbers one and four to show the miserable man.

The merchant laughed, shaking his head before babbling on in the local language. It was harsh, and brutal, but Robin found something almost suave about the hard consonants and dragged vowels. "20," the merchant repeated, pausing, before he stretched the stockings, turning and twisting the material, only to have it return to it's original shape. "Watch? Material good," the words were butchered by his sharp accent, but Robin understood. There was a challenge in negotiating in a foreign language -- one, Robin might not be able to meet.

"You haven't sold anything. Too many!" Robin tried, simplifying the sentence, pointing at the merchandise in the back of the store. There were hundreds of woolen clothes, piles upon piles upon piles. He wouldn't pay full price. "16," he made the number with his hands, holding one finger up before changing it to six.

"19," the merchant said with a sly smile. He wasn't going to go lower, and Robin had somewhere to be -- he quickly gave the snake his gold nel and took the gloves, stockings, and cloak.

Off Topic

Note to grader: I've already deducted this purchase from my ledger

..........................................................................................................................................
Robin leaned against the ancient walls of Raen Kai; they softened for him, sighing and whispering. The fortress was crumbling, long abandoned, but the stone remained. It promised him a hundred more arcs of protection, of shelter, of sanctuary. He smiled, listening. Earth was the proudest of the elements, but the most stubborn. The fortress, in his opinion, had long served its duty, and deserved to fall, back to to earth. Still, it lingered, despite its age, and the ruining of its walls. This was a good place, if empty.

The defiar was prepared for a yet unknown battle. He wore his leathers, a ruddy brown but visibly unused. He carried his wool cloak and gloves, and under the nook of his left arm, he held his leather helmet. His coat, thin and black, was held over his left shoulder. They had been promised a frightening cold, but the weather was hot and sticky with humidity. When the time came, he would wear it. On his waist, he wore his tamo and throwing daggers, and on his left was his longsword, gifted from Alistair.

Fridgar, the man he knew as the father of Finn, spoke first, his presence the most obvious. He was incredibly tall, and thick with muscle. He worn only his loin cloth and his furs, but Robin supposed the man had other ways of keeping warm. He offered himself as a translator, and then, to the defiar's surprised, summoned lightning. It's song, while brief, was strong and pungent, ozone lingering. He wasn't a defiar, Robin knew, but the lightning displayed itself for Fridgar alone.

Covah, the second to speak, seemed wild. He had a rough mane of red-gold and skin colored by the sun. He was of the Borne Path and a Velduris, not that Robin knew what those were. He supposed he was a hunter, and being good with animals, he supposed that would help with their quest. He had fangs, which Robin would remember to be interesting.

Anakol, the next to speak, had long black hair, and seemed to be at least of equal size, which was impressive alone. The man was apparently good with a bow and an axe, but strength was obviously his best asset. Robin wondered about the creature snuggled in his ponytail, but decided it would come up sooner or later. He also wanted to learn becoming, which was an interesting magic.

"I don't know any Haltunga," Robin shrugged, "I'm sorry," he added, realizing only then he was now living in a part of the world were common wasn't widely used. It seemed a bit offensive to not know anything about the local tongue. "I'm Robin, and I can swing a sword and a dagger," he laughed nervously, awkward and impressed by the crowd around him. He had his magic, yes, but it seemed so small compared to what the men around him can do alone -- he, by himself, was fragile. The four are what made him strong.

"I suppose I was asked to come because of my friends," Robin sighed, and the walls around him seem to sign in response. "I am a defiar. I know the elements. They are like my family," he offered a smile. He was never sure how to explain the bond he had with the four to people. It was just something they could never know.

He nodded to the last two, both humans, and he knew one. He gave Aeon a short nod and a smile, his teacher. The man seemed even noble here, with bright blonde hair, and now, healed. The last one was still unnamed. He seemed a quiet sort, but Robin knew everyone he offered something. They wouldn't have come otherwise.

[Aeon]

How many times must it happen? The boy asked himself as he scratched the back of his head with the arm made of flesh. He didn't want to be a hero,and yet everyone kept calling on him to act like one. Fighting the Sessfiend, fighting in Oscillus, fighting to protect foxface, fighting to protect Fridgar, now fighting to protect what, the entire northern Gauthrel? This was the last time, he swore to himself, there would be nothing after this. One more incredibly dangerous mission and he would retire from heroism. Except he couldn't. The incredible danger was what kept him going, he was a sucker for it, and he needed it pretty desperately. He had only figured it out lately, but he had, in fact, figured it out. He was a thrill-seeker.

The boy's blond hair was an omnidirectional mess as it flew down the sides and back of his head and down to his neck. It grew longer in the past few seasons, he would need to do something about it. His one eye glowed in the relatively dark abandoned fortress, and it glowed in a light hazel colour. Beneath his long, black cloak, which was meant to keep him warm in the White Silence, stood a ruined old shirt which wouldn't protect him from anything. It had two holes in it, one in the front and one in the back, and it certainly wasn't going to keep him warm. At least his pants and boots weren't ruined like his upper body clothing.

Many things stood attached to the boy's body, and from the sound of this mission, he would need them all. First of all, for a pleasant decoration only, there was a blue dragon embroidered on the pure black cloak, and beneath it stood a black belt with an adamantite sword attached to it. It was something new he'd acquired, and although he hadn't had time to get himself some new armour, he supposed that the weapon that could cut through virtually anything man-made would be enough protection. Just in case it wasn't, however, on his back stood a relatively small (compared to Fridgar) shield made of Alder wood he hadn't used ever since Vhalar of last arc. As far as he remembered its capabilities, it wouldn't break under normal circumstances. And next to the shield stood one of his favourite weapons ever, the Nirnbone bow with a quiver full of different arrows. There were some that couldn't kill its target, just in case he ever needed something knocked out, and there were some normal ones, but the ones he was proud of the most were the ones that went boom. The arrows the heads of which were filled with explosive powder and a really cool mechanism he still hadn't understood, but they would serve their purpose.

Other than him in the fortress stood several others. Two of which he knew, three of which he didn't. But Aeon couldn't know that, could he, since his one eye was closed and the place where the other one used to be was covered by an eyepatch. He preferred the darkness over the light, it was as simple as that. In the darkness, he could do whatever he wanted to, fly among the clouds and run through peaceful forests. Not fight what was probably the most powerful opponent of all, the White Silence.

As Fridgar started speaking, most likely to assert his dominance over everyone in the room, Aeon paid no attention to it. He didn't really care what the giant mage had to say, nor did he care what the names and strengths of his companions were. Somehow, eventually, it wouldn't even matter and he would need to pull out some ridiculously insane stunt to save the trial anyway. Because that was what it meant, being who he was. Perhaps he was growing cocky with the amount of times he had done that by now, perhaps he was growing aware of his destiny, who knew, who cared? Fridgar, as per usual, summoned a ball of lightning to show off his tricks, and Aeon smirked lightly. He thought about showing off his new sword to the lothar, but then decided against it.

The two lothar spoke, and Aeon simply continued thinking about how beautiful the clouds got on a bright and sunny trial and how peaceful a forest existed somewhere far away. Far enough away that the Immortals couldn't reach it. The Immortals, the bloody Immortals, he thought, he would end them all, no matter what it cost him. The two giants introduced themselves, and it seemed to be somebody else's turn. Robin. He knew him. He taught him how to fight. How interesting that the young mage was called upon as well.

Unfortunately, his skill with a blade, at least when they last met, wasn't nowhere near good enough to survive the horrors of Gauthrel, much less some crazy magical shit that they were going to be fighting. Hopefully the young man would finally use his magic. They would need it, Aeon knew. When Robin finished, however, the gazes seemed to shift towards him, and he finally opened his eye. What could he say?

"Aeon. My name's Aeon. As for my strengths..." He thought. Would it be pointless to list off the same things the others said? He was good with a blade, and a bow, like they said before him. "...well I'm not a mage." He finished, deciding they were smart enough to notice the bow and shield at his back and the hilt of a sword pointing from inside his cloak. He scratched the back of his head once more, now allowing a small smile to creep onto his face. It was weird, seeing his scarred face with a smile on it. The rest of his body wasn't any better in terms of scars, and it would be rivalling Fridgar's, if only it wasn't covered in clothing.

"Does anyone know what we're waiting for right now?" He asked with a confused look in his only eye before closing it again. He failed to mention he could summon wooden weapons, or that he carried incredibly destructive explosive arrows on his back, but who cared, once again?

[Geminius Rose]

What intimidated Gem most about this whole thing was just how serious a quest this could be considered. But what spoke volumes about him was that he’d agreed to go along with any of this. He was, for all intents and purposes, a cook. But the rewards of this quest could be enough to fund any sort of culinary education he would have needed cycles to save up for. That...and it seemed like a good enough way to seem useful to some extent. Utility was something that he’d known to be highly favored.

The mixed blood was not surprised to see he knew none of the others in the room, including the shaman he knew very little about. He observed the others with as much interest as he would have eyed a particularly challenging dish. However, he remained quiet throughout the whole process. The size of one Lothar was usually enough to deter him from initiating interaction if he had a feeling it would go sideways. There were two humans, close in size to himself, and three Lotharro. The largest Lotharro was the first to speak, in both Common and Haltunga. It seemed he’d designated himself the translator. Which was just fine, because despite being born and raised in Uthaldria, his Haltunga was shit. Common had been a lot easier to learn, given where he’d grown up. The Rigid Rooster tended to take on a lot of foreign clients at times.

As each man spoke in turn to introduce himself, he mulled over what he would say. Gem wasn’t close to being an expert with the two tamo blades at his hip, his navigational skill was...nonexistent based on how he’d nearly gotten lost, and he wasn’t much of an investigator. The others presented some skill that would clearly give them some leverage, and warranted them being chosen. He...did not. Fridgar, Anakol, Covah, Robin, Aeon; the names of his companions were filtered in the midst of his mental preparation and he was pretty sure he was going to mix someone up at one point or another.

Which left him at his turn to introduce himself. “Call me Gem,” he stated with a nod of his head, “I’ll be the reason you won’t starve.” Or at least have a subpar last meal if any of them were to perish. A likely thing, that. As for the blond human’s question -- it was Aeon? -- he had no answer to give. Maybe for them to all get somewhat acquainted? He sniffed, deciding that might be the answer but didn’t voice it.

[Incubus]

Everyone had come. Kem, who had been meditating silently in the corner of the room, finally rose to see all of them. A diverse cast from a variety of different races and origins. The Shaman was pleased that they were not comprised solely of bone-headed Lotharen warriors, eager to be consumed by the White Silence.

The man was tall, fairly muscular and bare chested, though he wore pauldrons of fur and tribal necklaces that covered large portions of his chest, as well as bracelets of similar appearance and design. His left pectoral was painted with the marking of what appeared to be a dragon's head, with smoky fumes racing across his chest. Strangely enough... this breath, it moved. It receded into the dragon's jaw, which closed... and then returned from that jaw, spewing forward in a cycle. This was no simple tattoo he bore upon his chest, that was clear.

His legs were covered by fur pants that ran into moccasins, embroidered with what looked like red yarn. Finally, his face was middle-aged and somewhat attractive, with his hair wrapped in a band that ran around his head, mid-length shaggy, greying blond hair running down from it, above and below. He had piercings, and on his cheeks, three vertical black lines on each side - save for the third on the right side of his face, which was red.

His appearance was distinctive. Kem was tribal, no one would deny that. Even among Lotharro, he did not appear civilized.

"Kem," he stated, brusquely. "I saw you all finally gathered, so I decided to invite you to Raen Kai," he stated, somewhat cryptically. The Freelander stepped past all of them, staring them down with a glimmer of his eyes. Each of them was different than he saw them - but then, that had been at a different time. It meant they would change.

"You may be confused by such words, so allow me to explain. It's a story of mine," the man began, turning around and taking seat upon the floor, ushering all of the others down around him, in a circle. He wanted to share something with them - something they'd only get to see once.

"Once upon a dream, the Horde ruled all the lands bordering the Heart of the World, and when the Horde collapsed the Freelanders took their place. I, like many of my kin, was born outside of Gauthrel in one of these settlements not far from the Black Tower. This was, however, some time ago," Kem stated. Before the group, a vision would appear... of a young man - Kem - dashing through snow, with a field of ice before him, thin sheets covering the ground for miles around. Behind him were roars, snarls. He pulled his sword to confront them, felling wolves none had seen the likes of. Their blood seeped into the moist white ground.

"By the time I came of age, half of my village had been consumed by the Frost. All that it devoured went mad and ventured into the Silence, seen not again or returning as enemies. The wise ones fled the village entirely, whilst the foolish flocked to the corners of the village that remained. The Silence expanded - each arc, more and more of Solstheimm had been lost. I decided I would venture into the Silence willingly, at this point, seeking to find the source of the changing world. That was when I witnessed all of you for the first time."

The blood gathered into a circle, slithering around as it formed a perfect shape, the corpses of the wolves acting as decorations to the outer edge of the orb. From within the shape formed by blood, a voice echoed, and the sky above became a canvas on which imagery laid. The Frost chilled, sending Kem shivering. All would see this, and they would all hear.

A voice, whispering in the Ancient Tongue, words unknown to them. They would see themselves in the sky, their faces in the clouds, the wispy corners of the clouds decorating even the most remote of their features. Each of them appeared, and before long the clouds drifted together, forming a pack of six. No - seven. From behind them, staring on with a smile, was the face of Kem.

This was what he had seen then - and they would recognize now, as this imagery played before their eyes from the center of the room, that they were the individuals within the vision.

"Poets of a Coming Frost," he noted, offering their group a name. "You're all here. Robin came just this season - welcome to Gauthrel," the aging man acknowledged, facing the younger male with a bright grin. "I know it might seem kind of mad, and I probably need to stop inhaling recreational Dragon Dust, but... I've remembered this vision for all my life, and I've been able to recreate it... on any surface, at any time, even on the air itself. What does that mean? Why you? You want to know this, I'm sure, but I have no flumming fuckery of a clue. I just know that you're the other six, and we need to get moving so the world doesn't end."

[Varthakh]

Fridgar introduced the two as requested, Anakol and Covah. The two that only spoke Haltunga in the room. As expected, Covah had his beasts, his pack. It was cute, sort of. The Bonde with a family of wolves. Anakol, an accomplished hunter from what he'd seen, a decent melee combatant. Robin, whom he recognised at last as the guy that crumbled the earth beneath him when he tried to save Finn FOR NO REASON! Fridgar was well acquainted with his abilities and would have understood if he'd recognised him sooner. Aeon, who hardly needed his introduction; He hadn't seen him use his sword much, but he was good with a bow - invaluable in the wilds of Gauthrel. And finally, someone who introduced themselves as 'Gem', like the stone? They would keep the lot of them well fed, like a hunter? It didn't matter, all skills were useful when they didn't know what to expect.

Grinning his toothy smile, the Lothar nodded and dissipated the energy in his palm. "Well, I'm glad to be going at this with people that know what they're doing, this is going to be easy with the human's help, brothers," Fridgar expressed his satisfaction. When Anakol spoke his interest in becoming, Fridgar grinned and nodded. "Yes, we spoke about it yestertrial on the way here, dangerous stuff, that magic." Could he help bigging himself up at every given opportunity? No. What is more, Anakol still didn't know of his talents. He couldn't wait to see Anakol’s face when the he cast unleash into a Redbear or a Trachadon.

Then, Aeon asked the obvious question; why were they there? "Beats me, some sort of quest that's more important than my honeymoon, apparently. Aeon asks why we're here, I don't really know." Fridgar then grinned, mischievous as he looked to Aeon. "Guess who's the latest addition to the Venora family tree, by the way!"

His grin broke into a chuckle, even though Aeon was the only one who'd get the joke. Finally, Kem stepped from the corner, likely broken from his meditation amongst the chatter. One thing was certain as he approached, Kem was way more fashionable than him. He'd crafted a neat looking attire with his fur while Fridgar appeared to have thrown it on like a blanket. "Shit..." Fridgar muttered under his breath as though he'd been bested. His tattoo as well... Fridgar needed one. "His tattoo is fucking awesome..." he whispered in Haltunga.

While true that Fridgar had passively tried to assert his role as Alpha over the group, what was lightning next to a moving tattoo? He might as well be comparing a bath toy to a full-sized flagship, or so Fridgar perceived. For that reason, he sat when asked, leaning into his axe to help bend his weary legs. He ended up dropping onto his behind before lifting himself up and moving his hide from underneath him. If the others followed, they would be given the same vision as him; a memoir of Kem's past?

He was certainly proven to be skilled with a sword as he slashed down wolves with ease. Though the wolves were strange, not like other wolves. This was accompanied by the story of Kem's past. His whole village was slowly but surely wiped out by the white silence, until he ventured voluntarily in search of its source. That's where he killed the wolves. The blood that seeped into the snow worked its way around into a full circle on the young Lothar. Images filled the sky as clouds parted. All of them people that Fridgar didn't recognise at first, until he saw himself and his distinguishable features. Arcs ago, Kem had seen the seven of them in some sort of prophecy?

Fridgar shook his head as he emerged from the vision, looking to the others in the room. As he set eyes on the lost expressions of the humans, though, Fridgar recognised that Kem had been speaking Haltunga and that the others wouldn't understand. Fridgar groaned in irritation, displeased at the amount of words he was going to have to translate. Could he even remember what the aging Lothar said? "Uhh, shit. Where do I even start translating?" Fridgar scratched his head, visibly struggling as he tried to recall everything.

"Okay, so, his village was right next to the black tower that started the white silence. Inch by inch, the ice grew and took over his lands. People went mad from the stuff and walked into the white silence, only to be completely erased from existence?" Fridgar sighed, rubbing his head as he shut his eyes tight in a grimace. "So, Kem walked into the White silence voluntarily and got attacked by wolves like you saw. The blood magic wasn't his doing and neither were the people in the sky, those were us. We're prophesised to save the world from the white silence by travelling to the black tower and ending it."

That summed it up, right? Probably. "If any of you have a question or two, I'll be glad to pass it on," the Lothar nodded, though remained uncertain of whether he'd relayed everything. "I just translated for the humans, though it was rough. I can't remember everything you said word for word, Kem," The Lothar nodded, still staring at his tattoo. "This is all very confusing. You expect us to knock down a tower? It can't be that easy, can it?" Fridgar asked with suspicion. This was, after all, rather farfetched.

Prophesised to save the world, to think that the scourge of Rynmere had a part in saving the world was somewhat funny in his head. Perhaps Kem had taken too much dragon dust? Regardless, Fridgar rolled his shoulders and raised his oversized axe to drop the polearm on his shoulder. "I guess saving the world is more important than my honeymoon..." he joked, and was probably more fun. As nice as it was to lay around and canoodle for trials on end, Fridgar found that he missed the sound of breaking things after the first trial. Smashing up a tower sounded like an excellent way to make up for lost time.

"I'm in and I'm eager to get started. I'm in. Point us in the right direction?" Fridgar asked, sharing the names of anyone else that said they were in. If there were any weak of heart around them, now would be the time to flake out.

[Covah]

Covah listened with intent as the people surrounding him discussed their abilities.
Though such talk would usually bore him, the situation he and his pack found themselves in urged him to listen. He took careful note of each of these men's names, and as Fridgar translated the words of those who spoke common, he could not help but smile at the skills they all brought to the table. They all seemed like a fine group, and Covah felt the warm prickling of optimism lace itself through his body. A smile took over his face, and for some reason he felt sure that this group was going to do great things.

However, as Kem stepped forward, Covah felt his smile falter for a moment. The Freelander struck Covah as odd, and though he was responsible for their group's gathering here and obstinately the leader of this pack, he could not shake a feeling of fear that crept up from the corner of his mind. Covah looked down at his hounds, and saw through their raised hackles and pulled back lips that they very much felt the same way. Perhaps it was the fact that the man was a Freelander, the group of Lotharro who stood so stubbornly opposed to unification, or perhaps it was the way he dressed himself, in a style foreign to the brutal elegance he had known in the city of Uthaldria, or it might have even been the way he smiled at them, as if he knew the answer to some secret jest. Whatever it was, Covah felt sure that this man was someone to be wary of.

Still, he turned his head and quieted his animals as the man spoke. Despite a feeling of mistrust, Covah would give the man as fair chance as he gave to any. The words he spoke were strange, but the tale he was weaving and the promise of an explanation held Covah's attention. He moved closer with the rest of the men and took his place on the floor, Kem drawing them into tight circle. Thus, the Shaman began weaving a story which seemed to jump to life on that plain, cobble floor.

Where once there was nothing now stood a young Lotharro, not much older than Covah himself, and though the grey was gone from his hair there was no doubting that this man was Kem. He stood alone in the heated pitch of battle, facing off against the roaring maws of white wolves on a field of icy snow. With a flash of steel, the young man stained the white snow red, and Covah could not help let loose a growl of anger as he saw the the massive forms of fur fall flat to the ground. He did not begrudge Kem for fighting them, for survival is Karem's domain as much as the wolf was, but seeing his newly adopted kin slain before his stirred an anger in his wolf-marked soul.

Breathing the anger out and letting his lips fall from their snarl, Covah refocused on the man's story. He listened intently as Kem told them of his past, of how his village was ravaged by the quiet malevolence that the frost brought and the lengths the Shaman went to find answers hidden behind the snow and ice. Covah's eyebrows raised as the man recounted the omen he saw in the wolfblood. Strange words pierced both the past and the present, and separate figures formed above the bleeding corpses of the now dead wolves. He saw the faces of the men beside him take form, and he saw the face of Kem staring out with that hidden smirk. Covah saw his own face amidst the blood and the snow as well, but it was the body of the dead wolf he towered over which frightened him the most. A massive black beast with amber eyes now devoid of life, looking like a storm cloud felled by the blade of man. Covah looked back at Taranis with concern in his golden gaze, and then back at the vision with angry resolve. Whether it be coincidence or portent, Covah would die before he saw Taranis' form take the shape of the vision now before him.

Despite how ridiculous this all seemed, all these prophecies and visions, Covah couldn't shake the feeling that there was some truth to this tale. Whether Kem saw what he saw, whether or not all of the men gathered here were apart of some great prophecy, Covah couldn't say for sure. What he did know, however, was that the people of Uthaldria, his people, were danger from the coming frost. No matter how unrealistic or fanciful Kem framed, that was an unarguable truth. Should the Silence be allowed to grow, innocent Lotharro would die. That was all the motivation Covah needed to sign up.

"Let's go kick the shit out of this cold," he said seriously, nodding so that those who were separated by language could understand his meaning. He felt a fuzzy head bump up against the small of his back, and turned to see Taranis' orange eyes. He didn't need to speak, Covah understood his meaning. The wolf knew the danger, the danger to him especially, but he stand behind his Alpha as best he could. Smiling, the Lotharro pressed his forehead against the animal's, speaking his trust for the wolf without words. Covah had his pack, strong allies, and a purpose. Immortal's protect whomever stood in these 'Poets' way.