The Coming Frost

[DurinRustbeard]

The crunch of the fresh snow was the only sound to be heard above the relentless wind. The woman, nearing her fourth decade,was determinded as she pushed on. Each stride was forced through the nearly knee deep snow. The trip into the mountains she made was a familiar one, though this time she bore only a thin veil and thigh high fur lined boots. Her near naked body was covered in markings and exposed to the full wrath of the coming storm. Her features were pleasant. Athough some wrinkles had found hold on her face she was still quite comely with her long blond hair and soft features. Her stomach was pronounced making it was easy to see that she was with child.

“The maiden will approve,” she said, trying to convince herself of the statements truth. The woman continued to wander further into the mountains until her legs would go no farther. Although the cold seemed to have no visible effect on the strange woman the journey had stolen her strength and she lay herself down in the snow. A strange look of calm came over her face. Her lips moved in whispers of some unheard prayer. This continued for what seemed to be hours. The drifting snow slowly covering the majority of her body, but still her eyes remained closed. Her lips continued to trace out words that could only be heard by the wind as it howled over her.

When her eyes opened they stared out as white orbs, unmarked by an iris or pupil. Her face twinged at some inner struggle and her teeth clenched, though her lips continued to move, spewing out a fervent number of prayers to some unseen god. The features of her face remained stressed for near an hour. Frost had begun to line her eyebrows and lips. Suddenly, her tensed appearance relaxed. The pale blue in her eyes once again rose to the surface and her jaw relaxed; allowing her to breathe deep the frosty air. Her breath hung in the air, like large puffs of chilled air. The woman rested her head deeply into the snow letting it crunch gently as if it were a pillow giving way. Her relaxed eyelids opened quickly with the realization that her breath had not been carried swiftly away. The storm had ended? Then, at her side she saw it. A face of crystalline frost and from it dangled long beautiful white hair pure as the snow itself.

The woman was shocked, but was quick to react. “My, my lady!” she gasped excitedly, her face expressing her adulation. The mask of frost only turned slightly, as if it were a mountain lion regarding its pray. The prone woman quickly reached into the snow and produced the fruits of her labors, a small wriggling child with a head covered in dark brown hair. Its skin was patched in several places where the afterbirth had began to freeze. The woman cradled the baby and thrust it slightly towards the Icemaiden’s frozen visage. The baby cringed as the intense cold of the frozen face began to chill it to the bone. The frozen mask of the maiden cracked and reshaped as the eyes narrowed to regard the child presented. The mother below continued to eagerly offer her newborn even as it began to freeze, its movement slowing greatly. The frozen visage then repelled two feet away from the child, its eyes again reforming into their full luster while its mouth puckered and blew lightly on the exposed child.

The immense cold of the maiden’s breath washed over the baby, turning its matt of brown to crisp white hair. “All glory to the Icedawn!” the near naked woman proclaimed while still holding forth her child. “He will serve you until his breath is no more, I swear it my lady!” she cried as loudly and fervently as she could. The baby stirred in her extended hands, its legs kicking, and arms wriggling. The baby began to cry. The mother retracted her baby into her arms and as swiftly as the Frostmaiden had appeared she was then gone leaving the woman and her child to lie in the newly downed snow. The woman held the child tight and wept. “At last the maiden has come to us my son, the three before were not worthy of her graces, but you will bring the glory of the Icemaiden to all!”

[DurinRustbeard]

A Mothers Love

A lone arctic wolf lay perfectly still amongst the drifting white sea of snow. Its intense eyes were focused on the dark spot in the distance. The bite of the winter winds made it squint its beautiful deep blue eyes while it watched the dot’s slow progress up the mountain.

****
One measured heavy step in front of the next was the only way to traverse the frozen landscape, and it was in just this fashion that Branan moved. The young man, who was almost a quarter century old was bare-chested. His head was shaved. The only hair on it was a short cropped white beard. In his arms he cradled a human like form draped by a thin white cloth. The load made the muscles of his fair skinned torso tense under the strain. He pressed on, observed by the lone wolf that paid only a passing interest to the visitor. Branan’s hollow pale blue eyes stared distantly up. The peak was his destination and he would have it by nightfall if he could continue at his current pace, but the fierce winter winds blew against him. This journey would be every bit as difficult as he had imagined, but he would not stop.

The light crept from the sky and was replaced by the expanding darkness of the night. Its many sparkles were like snowflakes glistening in a passing ray of light. Frost had found hold on his thin white brows and small crystals lined his short cropped beard. His tired legs cried out in agony after so many hours without rest while carrying a heavy load through drifting snows. His face remained stoic, his eyes focused and his jaw set. He forced his legs to continue with each agonizing step until he was at the peak. With a look to the starlit heavens above he knelt, his face only twitching slightly as he lowered his payload to the waiting snow. “For you my Maiden, the Goddess of Cold,” he said with an even tone, looking into the darkness above.

After a pause he retracted one end of the white blanket to reveal an older woman’s face adorned heavily in the markings of Auril's worship. Her eyes fluttered open looking towards the sky with a blank expression, while the man looked on her. She blinked slowly and turned her gaze to the man at her side that had carried her, a thin smirk on her face. “As you wished,” he said flatly to the silver haired woman. He then turned his face back to the dark sky, his hollow blue eyes looking deep into the twinkling distance. The older woman gave the man a gentle smile and then turned her head back to the heavens.

Speaking in Aquan, the language of the water elements and Auril, the woman began. “Praise to thee the Icedawn, for many decades I have served you unerringly. I offered thrice the fruits of my loin to your disapproval, but never did I falter. When at last you approved of my fourth child I swore to you that he would serve until no longer did he breathe the air of this world. I offer now one more sacrifice to you this time in his name… Guide him oh Mother of the Cold, teach him what I could not, and forever embrace him in your cleansing arms!” The crescendo of her words was accompanied by a cracking noise. The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked upwards; then bought her gaze down and to her side. There her son knelt, his hands still holding the handle of the ice axe that now was buried deep in the woman’s chest. Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth while she whispered to her son. “My life for you and for our lady” The whisper trailed as her eyes drifted shut and the last warm breath left her.

[DurinRustbeard]

Remain Vigilant

The man stood calmly overlooking the valley below. His pale blue eyes took in the full vantage. It appeared as an oddity in the frozen north; temperate trees and thick vegetation filled nearly the whole valley. “A sanctuary from your chilling embraces my lady?” he asked upwardly to the empty sky. Nodding once he began his quick decent from the mountains into the valley. “Not for long my Mistress, not for long…” He boasted, in a confident voice. A small tug at the corner of his mouth caused a grin on his normally blank features.

****
The crude sword cut in high. Branan was being attacked now by two of the miserable beasts. Unable to avoid the blow he quickly leaned back and managed to lessen the depth of the gash. A cringe of pain escaped through his face and he struck back with an overhead swing from his morningstar. The devilish pair of goblins worked well together though, and during his swing the second had found an opening to strike at his thigh, driving the tip of its spear into the distracted priest. Branan uncharacteristically snarled and cursed at the agile pair who continued to dodge his efforts. May the “Maiden show you no mercy!” he said in anger. Then he finished a quick prayer to his goddess.

Immediately, Auril answered his prayer with a burst of cold energy from his pointed hand. The goblin’s eyes went wide as the cold struck him and latched immediately onto him growing into a mass of ice crystals. Panicked, the goblin sucked in an unwitting breath and downed a portion of the spell. The remaining effects crystallized in his lungs; killing him swiftly. The second attacker retracted his spear and thrust again, only to find the now less distracted priest ready with a shield block. Bracing itself for the coming reprisal the goblin didn’t see Branan’s hand emerge from behind the shield. It opened, and blasted him in the face with a burst of cold. The goblin fell to the ground futilely clutching at its face as the frost crept inward.

The victorious priest only smirked at the pitiful display, as he watched the goblin’s body freeze before the spell dissipated. After another prayer to his goddess, the priest of Auril walked back to his nearby camp that the goblins had raided. His wounds slowly sealing as the blessings continued. He believed the creatures to be a warning from the Goddess, to remain ever vigil. Next time he wouldn’t be caught unaware.

[DurinRustbeard]

Colder Days

Branan had avoided entering the large city of Sundren since coming to the valley at his maiden’s call. He had traveled much of the valley becoming accustom to its people and places; and spreading the word of his lady. One place he had discovered brought him some measure of comfort due to its location near the icy snows of the mountain tops. It was there that he knelt on the small dock in the mountain town of Aquor. The cold north air blew in off of the water. It caressed his exposed chest and face with its refreshing touch. He spoke quiet prayers in Aquan to the Icedawn asking for her continued guidance and thanking her for sending him the barbarian of the north and the druid of the north east to aid him in his mission.

The wind blew softer, its air causing a brief fog over the water. With his eyes shut he didn’t see it approach, but he felt the chilling temperatures touch his pale skin and fill his lungs. He silenced his prayers and listened intensely. His thin, snow-colored brows furrowed slightly in concentration. “Ssuunndrehn” the wind whispered to him. Branan's eyes slowly opened. The chilling fog from the water below rose up around him and gave the scene an other worldly appearance. His hollow blue eyes looked through the fog, and upward to the night sky. “Yes my lady,” he said with confidence before turning to leave.

****

The city gates loomed ahead as he slowly but purposefully walked on. There were a myriad of travelers huddled just off the road trying to stay warm. He paid only a minor interest to the people. As he was more interested in the large gate that loomed ahead. The guards near the massive portal were engaged in idle chatter as some nearby man struggled to remove a broken wagon wheel. Branan’s face appeared pleased as he thought to himself “How easy it will be to make them fear you my lady, they cannot even band together to help others less able. Instead those of station and authority let those below struggle. What will they do when they feel your graces abound?”

He continued through the gates into the bustling trade district, people haggling vendors for a better price and people scampering about. He calmly waded through the busy district until he came to the military ward where statues loomed large above and a small pond provided serenity. He blinked as a droplet of rain caught his eye during his contemplations of the massive statues. After blinking away the rain his eyes were filled with a vision.

Snow covered the ground in a massive blanket several feet thick, large icicles hung from the many statues and rooftops, but one caught his gaze. The large stone soldier loomed high over the district. It was covered in thick snow and from its elbows hung massive icicles. With a groan and a sudden crack, like nearby thunder, the legs of the statue snapped under the unbearable strain of the added mass.

The statue fell heavily onto the frozen pond shattering the ice and crumbling much of the statue. The snow settled and all was quiet. There was no one out watching, not a guard or commoner in sight; Branan simply smiled. The next moment the vision was gone, and the cool rain pattered on his skin. “They will soon know your glory…,” he told the empty air before him with confidence.

[DurinRustbeard]

The White Peaks Await

Kneeling on the small dock overlooking the northern waters as he often did Branan stared into the night sky. The snow capped peaks loomed distantly. With a longing look to the looming mountains shrouded in darkness he lowered his head and closed his eyes. He quietly began a prayer to his goddess. “My maiden, I have seen these lands embraced by your chilling touch in a vision. I know this to be your will. Each day I contin…” he suddenly quieted his prayers upon sensing a presence. He slowly opened his eyes and looked over his left shoulder. A man clad in robes was passing the nearby tavern, magical auras seemed to pulse about him. Branans pale blue eyes looked calmly and calculatingly to the man who simply continued up the trail towards the mountains.

Branan continued to watch him until the robed man rounded the corner and was no longer visible. The cleric’s eyes looked briefly skyward only to see a single falling snowflake come into view. It slowly descended from its effortless flight and landed on the on his forearm. He quickly readied his shield and collected the axe at his side. With a purposeful stride he began after the robed man. His path took him some ways until he could hear the sounds of combat. Shield at the ready and axe poised Branan took on a more cautious pace towards the sounds of battle. It was said that bandits held these passes, the young cleric reasoned it was likely they who were engaging the robed man, or perhaps some other lone traveler.

As he rounded the corner he caught sight of the robed man. He was busy moving his hands and completing the arcane phrases for a spell. Arrows flew past him, but still he kept his poise and finished the casting. Which sent a pulse of energy towards the woman archer who assailed him. A blank expression suddenly covered her face and she lowered her bow, releasing the tension on her next arrow. The man was already moving again, hands following in intricate patterns. The woman lazily walked past the robed man and as she did he placed a hand on her shoulder immediately causing her to burst into flames. The woman placid nature was no more as she began to scream and ran down the path towards the on looking cleric.

Branans eyes quickly narrowed on the approaching woman and began a swift prayer to Auril. The woman was some ten paces away and quite badly burned when the priest struck out with his right hand sending a chilling blast at the woman dousing the fire and freezing the woman stiff. The charred and now frozen woman fell lifelessly to Branan’s feet. He looked back up the incline to see that the robed man had already finished the remaining two bandits and was now looking on him. Branan confidently strode up the path to the mage his eyes locked intently on the robed mans own pair of orbs. As he drew closer he noted the man was bald as he himself was, and kept a similar cropping of his beard.

“Do you seek the mountains?” Branan asked simply as he neared a reasonable distance. The man’s features crinkled at the question. “The Mountains?” he responded, sounding partially bewildered. “Why would you want to go there?” Branan kept his gaze locked and answered “I seek the snowy peaks so that I may better commune with my Maiden.”
The man’s features relaxed slightly. “Your god? Well the path lies open now” he explained, motioning towards the path before. Branan only looked at the man a moment longer “So it is..” he said in determined tone and continued onward to the snow covered peaks.

[DurinRustbeard]

The Cold Climb

The mountain trail wound up towards the snowy peaks. Branan was lucky that there was no further interference from the bandits of Aquor to impede his progress. The night wore on and the stars disappeared behind the clouds gathering above. Soon the trees of the valley were replaced by tall evergreens in the rocky soil of the mountain. Their deep green showed contrast to the otherwise sparse vegetation in the late hours of the night. Hours passed before the reassuring crunch of snow was under foot and the cool mountain winds blew to greet him.

He pulled off his gold pouch that contained near a thousand stags and began to toss them across the snow covered ground. All the while he muttered prayers of offering and servitude to the Ice Maiden. The coins left no trace in the dimly illuminated snow. It was as if the lady was accepting his offering, as she tucked each coin into the very folds of her snow-white clothing. As the morning dawned the clouds grew thicker still until only the dull grey light of the sun above illuminated the field of white.

His coin purse emptied, Branan tied it back to his belt and pushed on. The wind took on a vicious bitter cold, that even the cleric of the Ice Goddess felt bite at his features. His brow furrowed against the onslaught of the blistering cold, crystals of ice lining his brows and facial hair. His skin, normally pale was taking on a more red color as the cold drove inward. The determined man continued his prayers in aquan: “I am your hand. -I am always in your service; it is in your name I live.” Still the bitter cold drove inward past his innate resistances causing his fingers to stiffen and skin to redden.

“I have seen your vision and I will bring your embrace to those who cower in the valley below,” He shouted into the howling wind. “I am your servant, may I always walk in your graces and feel your embrace!” Branans muscles began to shake, his body’s natural response to try to stave off the cold. He forced open his arms, and extended his hands shoulders width apart. His open palms showed his acceptance of the embrace, no matter the pain it caused him. His trembling jaw made it hard to speak, but he went on. “I trust my life to you, the IceDawn. He shouted with every ounce of strength he had “I share your vision; grant me your strength so that we might show this valley the power of your Fury!”

Falling to both knees he kept his arms held in a defenseless posture and looked skyward. He forced his eyes open against the blistering cold and his watery tears turned to crystalline ice before they left his face. The wind suddenly slowed and Branan closed his frosty eyelids. When he opened them a moment later, the air was still and a gentle snow fell all around him and there just to his right lay a robe of fantastic blue. He leaned forward slowly, placing his left hand into the snow to support his weight as he reached for the garment. He couldn’t feel his fingers by this point but the weight of his body on the numb hand felt like a nail being driven through his palm.

His cheek twinged as the pain coursed up his arm, but he firmly grabbed the robe and drew it before him. With a grunt he proceeded to unbuckle his armored right pauldren and let it fall to the snow. He gathered the fine cloth and slid the robe over his head to cover his nude torso and thinly covered legs. Instantly the sensation returned to his fingers and a wide grin spread across his features. His body seemed to be rejuvenated from the punishing cold. He looked to the grey sky and the falling snow. “I will always walk in your glory” he promised to the empty air.

[DurinRustbeard]

Unexpected Spoils

The hours passed quickly as he sat there amongst the snow. The blowing wind left a small drift beside him as he sat motionless with his head lowered and eyes closed. He focused on his Goddess and the sensation that now encompassed him. Even though it was bitter cold it felt like a warm summer day with a cool breeze to him. The sensation made it hard for him to hold back a smile. The biting wind was a soft breeze and the frigid temperature felt like a comfortable warmth. “Oh how your glories abound me and embrace me,” he stated.

It was near twelve hours later when he broke from his focus and opened his eyes. He found his muscles were surprisingly flexible and pliable when he tried to stand. Never before had Branan felt so complete and full within his maidens embrace as when he began his decent from the snow covered peak. “I will return to your side often my lady,” he promised in Aquan. “And I shall continue as you will me each day.”

****

By the time he neared the bottom of the mountain trail it was dusk and a red hue lit the area as the sun set. He had re-donned his armored pauldron and walked with great caution as he neared the town of Aquor. He was not surprised when an ugly half orc in mal fitted armor pounced out from behind a rock just ahead. A wicked grin was displayed on its tusked maw. The stupid brute snorted in laughter “Jus, where do you tink you’re goin?” Branan’s eyes narrowed on the olive-skinned half-orc and returned with confidence “I go where my maiden bids me.”

Again the half orc snorted in laughter apparently quite amused. “Well den she send you right to Krak! Grawfhawfhawf” he laughed. “Maybe you have more shiny like the last one!” the half-orc added, patting a bulging pouch at his side. Branan placed his right hand on his battle axe’s handle and reached for the shield with his left. “I bring nothing but death to you ignorant godless beast,” Branan said with an even tone, keeping his pale blue eyes focused on the half orc. Krak’s face screwed up into an angry snarl and drew his broadsword. “I’ll show you death!… Little Man,” he taunted condescendingly. With suprising speed Krak’s corded muscles set into motion. He raised his sword high and pushed up the path with a burst of speed.

Branan quickly brought his axe to a defensive posture and tried to ready his shield. Krak’s swing came down in a mighty chop leaving no time for Branan to properly secure his shield and was forced to block with his battleaxe. The blow landed heavily on the weapons handle and sent a painful jolt up Branan’s arm. Branan quickly brought his axe down and around to dislodge the half-orcs weapon that had cut a gouge in his axe’s handle. “Stupid, but strong,” Branan thought momentarily as his hand finally got a good grip on his shield and his eyes took a measure of the damage to his axe. A moment was too much to spare though and Krak was swinging again, now in a diagonal swing up across Branan’s torso. The cleric’s shield barely managed to intercept the mighty swing, numbing his left arm.

Branan called upon a prayer to his goddess, all the while backpedaling up the trail using what little advantage he had to fend off the rushing Krak. Again, another heavy blow sounded against Branan’s shield. The strength from his hand was stolen, and his grip slipped. Krack’s face lit up with wicked glee upon the sight of the priest’s left arm near useless and struck again. Branan caught the blow with his damaged axe, unfortunately allowing another notch to be cut into the wooden handle. Krak shoved with all his strength right as Branan’s prayer came to a climax. Branan stumbled several feet back, but remained standing.

He tossed his shield down revealing his left arm bleeding badly from the beating it had taken behind the shield. His body seemed to glow with divine power and he brought his axe in line over his head. Krak only smiled. Branan closed the distance in three quick paces down the trail and swung in a powerful downward arc. His hands were placed at the bottom of the axe’s handle for maximum leverage when the half-orcs broadsword turned horizontally and rose in both hands. The block intercepted it just above Branan’s prone hands. The impact was mighty as both combatants offered all the strength they had in both defense and in offence. The effort proved too great for Branan’s damaged axe and the handle splintered mid-shaft allowing the axe head to continue its decent right into the snarling half-orcs skull.

Kraks bewildered face looked at Branan who looked back with hate filled eyes. The heavy olive-skinned half-orc fell to his knees and then slumped back onto the trail falling weirdly. Branan’s chest heaved with labored adrenaline filled breaths. He managed to slow his breath and looked confidently on the now dead Krak. “Stupid, but strong” he reiterated. Curious as to the “shiny” that the dimwitted orc had alluded to before. Branan opened the brute’s pouch to find two ingots of remarkable metal. He tilted his head questioningly at the discovery, and then looked to his now broken axe buried in the thick half-orc’s skull, and finally back up the trail to the snowy mountain tops. “Graces a plenty,” he said calmly to himself, and stowed the ingots. He collected the brute’s sword and continued to Aquor.