[WIP] Frozen Heart
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Her favorite perch had crumbled today. She stood at the edge of the cliff face and glared at the empty space before her. The Avarosan Tribe below were busy hatching down houses and moving food indoors in preparation of the coming storm. As the self-appointed protector of the Freljord, she chose to watch over the camp from the cliff side of the Ironspike Mountains....except her favorite perch was gone.
This obvious representation of the passage of time would have disturbed her once. The only things that were truly endless, she knew, was the Freljord's constant swirling Vortex just beyond the mountains and, well, herself. And for countless years, that was all that it had been: The simple, pure beauty of ice and snow. Time was a myth in those days and any show of it merely a disturbance.
But then the tribes had appeared and eventually separated, settling across different parts of the Freljord. She watched them as they hunted and gathered to survive, some caring for their weak and others leaving them behind. War broke out amongst them and the winds ominously changed direction. Three clear leaders arose, each as different as a snowflake, and she found that she could stay an observer no longer.
A flash of brown far below caught her sharp eyes and she was drawn to the movement. A young girl waddled towards the edge of the jagged mountains with her arms outstretched in front of her. Three Sisters, had she really ever been that young? Anivia unfurled her wings and glided down to the child's side. The tot let out a happy squeal and switched direction, falling once or twice in her haste to get closer.
"Chicken," she declared with the utmost certainty.
Anivia laughed out loud. She tried to imitate the sound of a hen fussing over her chicks, but she was sure her clucks sounded nothing like that of a real chicken. The little girl clapped her hands delightedly anyway: "Chicken!"
Her giggle was taken by the rising gale and Anivia glanced knowingly at the darkening skies. She took the child's fur-lined hood between her beak and flew high into the air.
"Limeria!"
Anivia followed to the source of the call. Ah; how fitting for the warmother herself to be out searching for even her tiniest warrior! She spotted the small, blonde woman she had come to know and landed by her side.
"Limeria!" Ashe exclaimed. "Thank you, Anivia. Some winters I wonder where we'd be without you."
"Why, right here my dear, leading your people as you should be."
The Avarosan Queen adjusted the true ice bow on her back before sweeping the child up in her arms. The tot babbled at Ashe happily, holding a conversation only she could understand. A mighty gale blew through the village and a piece of rock broke off from the northern face of the Ironspike Mountains. Anivia watched its descent before it disappeared from view, reminding her of the black threat hanging heavy over all of them. But, more immediately, of the coming storm.
"The storm will be here soon, my queen. You should get indoors."
"Wait, Anivia. One thing more," Ashe requested. "It is something I have thought on for some time, but have never had the courage to ask you. However, with the storm of war looming over us, I must know: Why have you allied yourself with us? And over the other tribes as well. For years, you were only the greatest tale told 'round the fires at night. Men claimed to glimpse you, yet none would believe. Why, now, do you fight with us?"
Anivia glanced back at the Ironspike Mountains again; their jagged peaks rose so high it was as if they were piercing the very sky itself.
"The Freljord was not meant to be divided, child, nor can it ever truly be so," Anivia answered at length. "It is well known that my fate is tied to this land and I am its protector. I will fight any evil that threatens this place, whether it be beyond or within its borders. But as its protector, so do I protect its people; we are all part of the Freljord in some way, whether it be to the mysterious pull of the neverending Vortex or the ice that melts in the spring. Fighting, we will not only destroy each other, but this land we all love as well."
Anivia looked Ashe squarely in her blue eyes, the child pressed to her chest. The archer shivered in the rising cold.
"I fight for you, Queen Ashe, because I fight for the Freljord."
The winds rose once more and Ashe's cape snapped madly behind her. The makeshift houses creaked under the strain of ice and snow. From somewhere within the village, voices cut through the storm, only to be drowned out by yet another screaming gale.
"Quickly, my queen!" Anivia urged. "I must follow the storm. Go!"
The Cryophoenix unfurled her long icy wings, feeling the direction of the wind.
"Anivia!" Ashe stopped her.
Anivia looked back at the Avarosan Warmother: The young girl stared back at her with wide eyes, judging in a way that only a child's eyes can.
"...Thank you."
Anivia kept the gaze a moment longer, then smiled. With a few powerful flaps of her wings, she was soaring once more. The storm had just been spat out by the Vortex beyond the mountains and would move quickly through this area. With a few mercies, it would not reach the other tribes.
She flew up past her crumbled perch, skirting the thrusting stone pires. She flew up past several portential spots to wait and watch over the storm, but still she did not stop. Finally, the Protector of the Freljord slowed and landed at the edge of a crag. She glared into its icy depths; she no longer dared to fly too close. There, at the heart of the mountain, was black ice. Its veiny reach was clutching further and further towards the surface every day, consuming ice, snow, and stone alike. It had grown throughout the years, getting stronger, faster. Another great piece of rock fell victim to the evil, cracking and falling an inconceivable distance towards the mountain's heart. Soon, too soon, this evil would be strong enough to escape the depths of the mountain and burst out, free to wreak its madness on the Freljord. She did not know what this black ice was or where it had come from, but it was coming nonetheless. She wondered what would happen, when it did finally free itself, if it found a land already divided, what death and chaos would ensue.
The storm raged around her, throwing a sweep of snow into the air. It settled silently over the black ice and covered it from view, but Anivia could still see its reach growing ever closer to her icy heart.
This obvious representation of the passage of time would have disturbed her once. The only things that were truly endless, she knew, was the Freljord's constant swirling Vortex just beyond the mountains and, well, herself. And for countless years, that was all that it had been: The simple, pure beauty of ice and snow. Time was a myth in those days and any show of it merely a disturbance.
But then the tribes had appeared and eventually separated, settling across different parts of the Freljord. She watched them as they hunted and gathered to survive, some caring for their weak and others leaving them behind. War broke out amongst them and the winds ominously changed direction. Three clear leaders arose, each as different as a snowflake, and she found that she could stay an observer no longer.
A flash of brown far below caught her sharp eyes and she was drawn to the movement. A young girl waddled towards the edge of the jagged mountains with her arms outstretched in front of her. Three Sisters, had she really ever been that young? Anivia unfurled her wings and glided down to the child's side. The tot let out a happy squeal and switched direction, falling once or twice in her haste to get closer.
"Chicken," she declared with the utmost certainty.
Anivia laughed out loud. She tried to imitate the sound of a hen fussing over her chicks, but she was sure her clucks sounded nothing like that of a real chicken. The little girl clapped her hands delightedly anyway: "Chicken!"
Her giggle was taken by the rising gale and Anivia glanced knowingly at the darkening skies. She took the child's fur-lined hood between her beak and flew high into the air.
"Limeria!"
Anivia followed to the source of the call. Ah; how fitting for the warmother herself to be out searching for even her tiniest warrior! She spotted the small, blonde woman she had come to know and landed by her side.
"Limeria!" Ashe exclaimed. "Thank you, Anivia. Some winters I wonder where we'd be without you."
"Why, right here my dear, leading your people as you should be."
The Avarosan Queen adjusted the true ice bow on her back before sweeping the child up in her arms. The tot babbled at Ashe happily, holding a conversation only she could understand. A mighty gale blew through the village and a piece of rock broke off from the northern face of the Ironspike Mountains. Anivia watched its descent before it disappeared from view, reminding her of the black threat hanging heavy over all of them. But, more immediately, of the coming storm.
"The storm will be here soon, my queen. You should get indoors."
"Wait, Anivia. One thing more," Ashe requested. "It is something I have thought on for some time, but have never had the courage to ask you. However, with the storm of war looming over us, I must know: Why have you allied yourself with us? And over the other tribes as well. For years, you were only the greatest tale told 'round the fires at night. Men claimed to glimpse you, yet none would believe. Why, now, do you fight with us?"
Anivia glanced back at the Ironspike Mountains again; their jagged peaks rose so high it was as if they were piercing the very sky itself.
"The Freljord was not meant to be divided, child, nor can it ever truly be so," Anivia answered at length. "It is well known that my fate is tied to this land and I am its protector. I will fight any evil that threatens this place, whether it be beyond or within its borders. But as its protector, so do I protect its people; we are all part of the Freljord in some way, whether it be to the mysterious pull of the neverending Vortex or the ice that melts in the spring. Fighting, we will not only destroy each other, but this land we all love as well."
Anivia looked Ashe squarely in her blue eyes, the child pressed to her chest. The archer shivered in the rising cold.
"I fight for you, Queen Ashe, because I fight for the Freljord."
The winds rose once more and Ashe's cape snapped madly behind her. The makeshift houses creaked under the strain of ice and snow. From somewhere within the village, voices cut through the storm, only to be drowned out by yet another screaming gale.
"Quickly, my queen!" Anivia urged. "I must follow the storm. Go!"
The Cryophoenix unfurled her long icy wings, feeling the direction of the wind.
"Anivia!" Ashe stopped her.
Anivia looked back at the Avarosan Warmother: The young girl stared back at her with wide eyes, judging in a way that only a child's eyes can.
"...Thank you."
Anivia kept the gaze a moment longer, then smiled. With a few powerful flaps of her wings, she was soaring once more. The storm had just been spat out by the Vortex beyond the mountains and would move quickly through this area. With a few mercies, it would not reach the other tribes.
She flew up past her crumbled perch, skirting the thrusting stone pires. She flew up past several portential spots to wait and watch over the storm, but still she did not stop. Finally, the Protector of the Freljord slowed and landed at the edge of a crag. She glared into its icy depths; she no longer dared to fly too close. There, at the heart of the mountain, was black ice. Its veiny reach was clutching further and further towards the surface every day, consuming ice, snow, and stone alike. It had grown throughout the years, getting stronger, faster. Another great piece of rock fell victim to the evil, cracking and falling an inconceivable distance towards the mountain's heart. Soon, too soon, this evil would be strong enough to escape the depths of the mountain and burst out, free to wreak its madness on the Freljord. She did not know what this black ice was or where it had come from, but it was coming nonetheless. She wondered what would happen, when it did finally free itself, if it found a land already divided, what death and chaos would ensue.
The storm raged around her, throwing a sweep of snow into the air. It settled silently over the black ice and covered it from view, but Anivia could still see its reach growing ever closer to her icy heart.
Replies
Frozen Heart
Her favorite perch had crumbled today. She stood at the edge of the precipice and glared at the empty space before her. The tribe below was busy hatching down houses in preparation of the coming storm. As the self-appointed protector of the Freljord, she chose to watch over the camp from the cliff side of the Ironspike Mountains...except now her perch was gone.
This obvious passage of time would have annoyed her once. The only things that were truly endless, she knew, was the Freljord's constant swirling Vortex just beyond the mountains and, well, herself. For countless years, that was all life had been: The simple, tandem beauty of ice and snow. Time was a myth in those days and any show of it merely a disturbance.
Then the tribes had appeared and eventually separated, settling across different parts of the Freljord. She watched them as they hunted and gathered to survive, some caring for their weak and others leaving them behind. War broke out and three clear leaders arose, each as different as a snowflake. With this, she found that she could stay an observer no longer.
A flash of brown far below caught her sharp eyes. A young girl waddled towards the edge of the jagged mountains with her arms outstretched in front of her. Three Sisters, had she really ever been that young? Anivia unfurled her wings and glided down to the child's side. The tot let out a happy squeal and switched direction, falling once or twice in her haste to get closer.
"Chicken," she declared with the utmost certainty.
Anivia laughed out loud. She tried to imitate a hen fussing over her chicks, though she was sure her clucks sounded nothing like that at all. The little girl clapped her hands delightedly anyway: "Chicken!"
Her giggle was taken by the rising gale and Anivia glanced knowingly at the darkening skies. She took the child's fur-lined hood between her beak and flew high into the air. "Limeria!"
Anivia circled to the source of the call. How fitting for the Warmother herself to be out searching for even her tiniest warrior! She spotted the woman and landed by her side.
"Limeria!" Ashe exclaimed again. "Thank you, Anivia. Some winters I wonder where we'd be without you."
"Why, right here my dear, leading your people as you should be."
The Avarosan Queen adjusted the true ice bow on her back before sweeping the child up in her arms. The tot babbled at Ashe happily, holding a conversation only she could understand. A mighty gust blew through the village and a piece of rock broke off from the northern face of the Ironspike Mountains. Anivia watched its descent before it disappeared from view, reminding her of the black threat hanging heavy over them all. But, more immediately, of the coming storm.
"The storm will be here soon, my queen. You should get indoors."
"Wait, Anivia. One thing more," Ashe requested. "It is something I have thought on for some time, but have never had the courage to ask you. However, with war looming over us, I must know: Why have you allied yourself with us? For years, you were only the greatest tale told 'round the fires at night. Why, now, do you fight with us?"
Anivia glanced back at the Ironspike Mountains again; their jagged peaks rose so high it was as if they were piercing the very sky.
"The Freljord was not meant to be divided, child, nor can it ever truly be so," Anivia answered. "It is well known that my fate is tied to this land; I will fight any evil that threatens this place. As its protector, so do I protect its people; we are all part of the Freljord in some way, whether it be to the mysterious pull of the never-ending Vortex or the ice that melts in the spring. Fighting, we will not only destroy each other, but this land we all love as well."
Anivia looked Ashe squarely in her blue eyes, the child pressed to her chest.
"I fight for you, Queen Ashe, because I fight for the Freljord."
The winds rose once more and Ashe's cape snapped madly behind her. Somewere within the village, voices cut through the storm, only to be drowned out by yet another screaming gale.
"Quickly, my queen!" Anivia urged. "I must follow the storm. Go!"
The Cryophoenix unfurled her wings, feeling the direction of the wind.
"Anivia!" Ashe stopped her.
She looked back at the Avarosan Warmother: The young girl stared back at her with wide eyes, judging in a way that only a child's eyes can.
"...Thank you."
Anivia kept the gaze a moment longer, then smiled. Three powerful flaps of her wings and she was soaring once more. The storm had just been spat out by the Gelid Vortex beyond the mountains and would move quickly through the village. With a few mercies, it would not reach the other tribes.
She flew up past her crumbled perch and several potential spots to watch over the storm, but she did not stop. Finally, the Cryophoenix slowed and landed at the edge of a pit. Anivia glared into its depths; she no longer dared to fly too close.
There, at the heart of the mountain, was black ice. Its veiny reach was clutching further towards the surface every day, consuming ice, snow, and stone alike. Another great piece of rock fell victim to the evil, falling towards the black pit below. Too soon, this evil would be strong enough to escape the depths of the mountain and be free to wreak its madness on the Freljord. What would happen if it found a land already divided? What death and chaos would ensue?
The storm raged around her, throwing a sweep of snow into the air. It settled silently over the black ice and covered it from view, but Anivia could still see its reach growing ever closer to her frozen heart.
Frozen Heart
Her favorite perch had crumbled today. She stood at the edge of the precipice and glared at the empty space before her. The tribe below was busy hatching down houses in preparation of the coming storm. As the self-appointed protector of the Freljord, she chose to watch over the camp from the cliff side of the Ironspike Mountains...except now her perch was gone.
This obvious passage of time would have annoyed her once. The only things that were truly endless, she knew, was the Freljord's constant swirling Vortex just beyond the mountains and, well, herself. For countless years, that was all life had been: The simple, tandem beauty of ice and snow. Time was a myth in those days and any show of it merely a disturbance.
Then the tribes had appeared and eventually separated, settling across different parts of the Freljord. She watched them as they hunted and gathered to survive, some caring for their weak and others leaving them behind. War broke out and three clear leaders arose, each as different as a snowflake. With this, she found that she could stay an observer no longer.
A flash of brown far below caught her sharp eyes. A young girl waddled towards the edge of the jagged mountains with her arms outstretched in front of her. Three Sisters, had she really ever been that young? Anivia unfurled her wings and glided down to the child's side. The tot let out a happy squeal and switched direction, falling once or twice in her haste to get closer.
"Chicken," she declared with the utmost certainty.
Anivia laughed out loud. She tried to imitate a hen fussing over her chicks, though she was sure her clucks sounded nothing like that at all. The little girl clapped her hands delightedly anyway: "Chicken!"
Her giggle was taken by the rising gale and Anivia glanced knowingly at the darkening skies. She took the child's fur-lined hood between her beak and flew high into the air. "Limeria!"
Anivia circled to the source of the call. How fitting for the Warmother herself to be out searching for even her tiniest warrior! She spotted the woman and landed by her side.
"Limeria!" Ashe exclaimed again. "Thank you, Anivia. Some winters I wonder where we'd be without you."
"Why, right here my dear, leading your people as you should be."
The Avarosan Queen adjusted the true ice bow on her back before sweeping the child up in her arms. The tot babbled at Ashe happily, holding a conversation only she could understand. A mighty gust blew through the village and a piece of rock broke off from the northern face of the Ironspike Mountains. Anivia watched its descent before it disappeared from view, reminding her of the black threat hanging heavy over them all. But, more immediately, of the coming storm.
"The storm will be here soon, my queen. You should get indoors."
"Wait, Anivia. One thing more," Ashe requested. "It is something I have thought on for some time, but have never had the courage to ask you. However, with war looming over us, I must know: Why have you allied yourself with us? For years, you were only the greatest tale told 'round the fires at night. Why, now, do you fight with us?"
Anivia glanced back at the Ironspike Mountains again; their jagged peaks rose so high it was as if they were piercing the very sky.
"The Freljord was not meant to be divided, child, nor can it ever truly be so," Anivia answered. "It is well known that my fate is tied to this land; I will fight any evil that threatens this place. As its protector, so do I protect its people; we are all part of the Freljord in some way, whether it be to the mysterious pull of the never-ending Vortex or the ice that melts in the spring. Fighting, we will not only destroy each other, but this land we all love as well."
Anivia looked Ashe squarely in her blue eyes, the child pressed to her chest.
"I fight for you, Queen Ashe, because I fight for the Freljord."
The winds rose once more and Ashe's cape snapped madly behind her. Somewhere within the village, voices cut through the storm, only to be drowned out by yet another screaming gale.
"Quickly, my queen!" Anivia urged. "I must follow the storm. Go!"
The Cryophoenix unfurled her wings, feeling the direction of the wind.
"Anivia!" Ashe stopped her.
She looked back at the Avarosan Warmother: The young girl stared back at her with wide eyes, judging in a way that only a child's eyes can.
"...Thank you."
Anivia kept the gaze a moment longer, then smiled. Three powerful flaps of her wings and she was soaring once more. The storm had just been spat out by the Gelid Vortex beyond the mountains and would move quickly through the village. With a few mercies, it would not reach the other tribes.
She flew up past her crumbled perch and several potential spots to watch over the storm, but she did not stop. Finally, the Cryophoenix slowed and landed at the edge of a pit. Anivia glared into its depths; she no longer dared to fly too close.
There, at the heart of the mountain, was black ice. Its veiny reach was clutching further towards the surface every day, consuming ice, snow, and stone alike. Another great piece of rock fell victim to the evil, falling towards the black pit below. Too soon, this evil would be strong enough to escape the depths of the mountain and be free to wreak its madness on the Freljord. What would happen if it found a land already divided? What death and chaos would ensue?
The storm raged around her, throwing a sweep of snow into the air. It settled silently over the black ice and covered it from view, but Anivia could still see its reach growing ever closer to her frozen heart.