OOC HERE
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This world had become a place Iskra both loved and loathed, in the year that the endless winter had settled. It was the place her Onyx clan should’ve thrived- they were built for the cold; especially herself, hailing from a frigid northern nation. And yet should’ve was the important word in that statement, because they didn’t. Instead, the clan had been ravaged by those creatures, and with limited magic to fend off such powerful adversaries, the Onyx Bandits had been nearly wiped clean from the map. Their mountain hideout was buried beneath snow now, and in fact, Iskra was uncertain who all was even alive of her inner circle- she had lost them all. It was only her now, and a mild-tempered White
Wolf that tracked close behind her, and hunted for them when she had run out of arrows.
Limited knowledge was available on the undead creatures- and Iskra wasn’t entirely keen on learning more. They called them White Walkers, or simply “The Others”. And rumor had it, they held their origins within the ancient Dark Elven cities, a horrid mix between dragons of ice and the dokkalfar themselves. Excluding, of course, the dead they were able to reanimate- humans with icy skin and bleak white eyes, who spoke in crackling tones unable to be translated to human tongue.
Not like anyone would find out, because most wouldn’t survive a fight with them. And those who did certainly weren’t focused on the educational aspects of dueling one of them- no, survival was the name of this game. And survive, Iskra had, and would continue to, if all went well. The winter had to end soon... right? Because game was becoming scarce and scavenging for herbs and plants was near impossible... It was with a heavy gloom she sat now, high in a tree to survey the remnants of a nearby town.
It was a mountain village- at least these people, whoever they were, had the strength to survive winter (though maybe not this one...). Whoever lived there had elevated homes above the snow level- it seemed what was below had frozen solid, creating a second layer to the earth which meant she sure as hell wouldn’t be finding any vegetables or fruit here. But there was a bit of a nervous energy; these people were clearly survivalists. She could see the faint glow of light from inside a building she assumed was a tavern- it promised warmth, and maybe even food, and she could only hope to find someone with a kind spirit (or at least a rowdier one like her own- just like misery, chaos seemed to enjoy a crowd...) within its walls. If it was even inhabited. There was a chance it was a raider hideout- the endless winter had caused competition for food sources and with the endless snow, the King’s men couldn’t even think of controlling the lands now. The lands were beginning to be split, controlled by different groups and even species in some cases, but the risk of running into raiders was far outweighed by the definite fact that if left in the blizzard, she would be dead within a few hours- if you were lucky, it was the blizzard that killed you. If not...
She jumped down from the tree, pulling her heavy wool cloak around her shoulders- it was lined with thick white wolf pelt, the fur comforting against her skin- though slightly unnerving to her animal companion, who tended to avoid the thing. But when she whistled, the wolf came, trudging through the snow alongside her as they descended the hillside to the tavern.
The wind picked up as she neared, a cutting shear that carried with it the flurries- a snowstorm would descend soon. Which meant The Others would soon be active again- it was best to get inside quickly. The night brought them out, but snowstorms were deadly enough without the creatures raiding villages and wiping out towns. She only hoped whatever company she found inside was strong enough to fend them off, if it came to that...
———————
This world had become a place Iskra both loved and loathed, in the year that the endless winter had settled. It was the place her Onyx clan should’ve thrived- they were built for the cold; especially herself, hailing from a frigid northern nation. And yet should’ve was the important word in that statement, because they didn’t. Instead, the clan had been ravaged by those creatures, and with limited magic to fend off such powerful adversaries, the Onyx Bandits had been nearly wiped clean from the map. Their mountain hideout was buried beneath snow now, and in fact, Iskra was uncertain who all was even alive of her inner circle- she had lost them all. It was only her now, and a mild-tempered White
Wolf that tracked close behind her, and hunted for them when she had run out of arrows.
Limited knowledge was available on the undead creatures- and Iskra wasn’t entirely keen on learning more. They called them White Walkers, or simply “The Others”. And rumor had it, they held their origins within the ancient Dark Elven cities, a horrid mix between dragons of ice and the dokkalfar themselves. Excluding, of course, the dead they were able to reanimate- humans with icy skin and bleak white eyes, who spoke in crackling tones unable to be translated to human tongue.
Not like anyone would find out, because most wouldn’t survive a fight with them. And those who did certainly weren’t focused on the educational aspects of dueling one of them- no, survival was the name of this game. And survive, Iskra had, and would continue to, if all went well. The winter had to end soon... right? Because game was becoming scarce and scavenging for herbs and plants was near impossible... It was with a heavy gloom she sat now, high in a tree to survey the remnants of a nearby town.
It was a mountain village- at least these people, whoever they were, had the strength to survive winter (though maybe not this one...). Whoever lived there had elevated homes above the snow level- it seemed what was below had frozen solid, creating a second layer to the earth which meant she sure as hell wouldn’t be finding any vegetables or fruit here. But there was a bit of a nervous energy; these people were clearly survivalists. She could see the faint glow of light from inside a building she assumed was a tavern- it promised warmth, and maybe even food, and she could only hope to find someone with a kind spirit (or at least a rowdier one like her own- just like misery, chaos seemed to enjoy a crowd...) within its walls. If it was even inhabited. There was a chance it was a raider hideout- the endless winter had caused competition for food sources and with the endless snow, the King’s men couldn’t even think of controlling the lands now. The lands were beginning to be split, controlled by different groups and even species in some cases, but the risk of running into raiders was far outweighed by the definite fact that if left in the blizzard, she would be dead within a few hours- if you were lucky, it was the blizzard that killed you. If not...
She jumped down from the tree, pulling her heavy wool cloak around her shoulders- it was lined with thick white wolf pelt, the fur comforting against her skin- though slightly unnerving to her animal companion, who tended to avoid the thing. But when she whistled, the wolf came, trudging through the snow alongside her as they descended the hillside to the tavern.
The wind picked up as she neared, a cutting shear that carried with it the flurries- a snowstorm would descend soon. Which meant The Others would soon be active again- it was best to get inside quickly. The night brought them out, but snowstorms were deadly enough without the creatures raiding villages and wiping out towns. She only hoped whatever company she found inside was strong enough to fend them off, if it came to that...
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