Part 1, Volume 1
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Four figures fought through the blizzard, every step seeming to take a giant’s strength, every breath ragged and harsh, stolen away by the riotous winds. Each was clad in heavy fur-lined clothing, their voluminous hoods up and their faces wrapped in protective cloths. To those with such senses and abilities they were also swaddled in charms to keep them alive throughout the unimaginable cold.
This was no terrestrial cold, for they walked no terrestrial plane. This was Arshank, a frigid land on the border between the elemental Planes of Air and Water. In this supernatural place the cold could kill a man with a touch, could freeze the lungs and frost the eyes shut forever.
They fought through the wind and pelting snow towards the imposing frozen spike of Vorin, known Ice-edge Tower. A monolith of ice, where their escape with the hard-won prize they carried was to be found, in a room atop the smallest of the branching towers, a ring that would summon their freedom.
They did not fear detection for even the guardians of this place, the cruel and angular Skrayl would not see them in this maelstrom of white. The travellers were led by a bravely struggling figure who trudged onwards with the mix of optimism and pragmatism which is to be seen in some of those who have faced many harsh situations.
He was followed by a slighter figure, and she by shrouded being who would tower above even the tallest human man. Bringing up the rear, in the wind-gap left by the giant, was a figure but half the size of a man, stocky in his coat and furs, stalking onwards in a battle against the wind none of his larger companions would ever truly grasp.
After hours of tortuous walking, fighting against supernatural forces unlike any other, they reached the blue-hued ice wall of Ice-edge Tower.
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Volume 1, Part 2
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They skirted the base of the vast edifice, now within the fields of its magical protection from the blizzard. The lead figure pulled back his hood to reveal shoulder length blond hair and a pale strong face obscured by black-lensed goggles and a thick scarf wrapped around his mouth and lower jaw. He motioned the others to follow and drew and longsword from a scabbard at his belt, thankful for his warm fur-lined gloves.
The giantess also pulled back her hood, though she went as far as to pull down her scarf, she had a pretty moca-coloured face with sensuous lips. Her breath clouded the air in front of her almond coloured eyes.
“Finally,” she said in a husky winter, “I’m a desert girl this isn’t my element, not like blondie.”
A muffled tinkling laugh came from the much smaller female shape, still hooded. The halfling made no remark, though he never did. Arlok turned with a wrinkled frown and lowered his scarf, “I’m an Ulfen, Emrishu Hanatabim of Kelesh, and a Pathfinder. If I couldn’t find my way in the snow I wouldn’t be much good now would I?”
“I’ve always been a proponent of that theory myself,” she said with a wide grin and a wink.
He sighed and turned back to stalking towards a nearby ramp which would allow access, luckily, it seemed, the Skrayl did not expect visitors in the storm. The Halfling drew two shortsword from within his wrappings, Emrishu hefted her great, thick quarterstaff and blue runes began to circle the still-hooded woman’s hands, as she cast a protective spell on herself.
The reached the ramp and sprinted low and fast up it and into the hall at its top, it opened up to two ramps which led higher, still undetected or assaulted they continued their climb into the imposing structure of Vorin.
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Volume 1, Part 3
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Despite their good start, stealth in halls of ice can become precarious, especially when a number of your comrades fall simultaneously on a cunning slick patch of ice. The deliberate trap activated, and echoes of their fall as well as a magically enhanced shrill whistling spreading through the surrounding tunnels they began to move as quickly, and directly upwards as they could, many dead ends and looping tunnels however made this increasingly difficult.
The human woman had pulled back her hood and scarf now too, revealing her long straight balck hair and pretty face, she was Tian with striking ice blue eyes.
“We’ve moved above the dampened magic zone of the lower levels, but I don’t think any of my falshier tricks will be of use against creatures made of ice.”
“We’ll figure something out, Kemei, I’m fairly sure their not immune to sword,” Arlok replied over his shoulder as they skidded into a large domed chamber.
“Or you know,” Emrishu smiled as she moved towards the ramp to the left, while the still concealed, hooded and goggled halfling silently moved towards the right, “We could die trying.”
“Ha, I laugh, see how I laugh, Zan, what we got?” The Halfling turned and spread his hands in the sign for all clear.
“Emri?”
“”I’m all clear,” there was a distant thumping sound, “scratch that, we got trouble.”
She moved back to the center of the room, swinging her staff to warm herself up, Arlok did similarly with his sword as he ran to join her. The thumping grew louder, and Kemei began to chant something, ice-blue symbols circling her wrists as her eyes began to glow. Moments later, moving faster on the dry ice than any of the intruders could, violence in their eyes, a trio of Skrayl entered the room.
Volume 1, Part 4
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They were gaunt creatures, with pale frostbitten skin pulled tight over bony joints, they had a bizarre gait, on bent and twisted legs, and each bore a club made of ice, as hard as any steel, in their long yet deceptively powerful arms. The slowest of the trio bellowed down the hall with a strange wavering sound, a single cry of varying frequency. The other two advanced, pure white eyes glaring out of sunken sockets.
The skrayl had long faces, skin drawn as tight there, as anywhere on their angular bodies, yet atop their skulls grew large protrusions of ice-blue crystal, giving them a frosty crown and a large additional bulk to their heads. They moved with a surety on the ice, that even though this section wasn’t slippery, Arlok and Emrishu could never hope to match.
The first suddenly lunged for Emrishu’s hip, but she swung her staff across deflecting the blow and threw a kick of a large boot into its gut, however this merely slid it back a foot or two, and Emrishu came away with a wince.
“Holy Dawnflower, but their tough little divs,” it swung at her again more cautiously, she neatly sidestepped and brought her staff to bear on its rib cage.
Meanwhile Arlock ducked his head low, as a frozen club swung above his head, raising gooseflesh on his neck. As his opponent brought its club around for another blow, he flicked out with his sword, not truly harming it, but disrupting its attack and regaining his own balance.
He took his sword in both hands, no trying to meet each attack blow for blow, and though the strength of his arm was maybe up to the challenge, his footing and stability was nothing on his foes, and he was slowly pushed back, fighting defensively.