Snowbreak Against Lamenting Waves
Cycle 0
Cycle 0
Beyond the reach of the sea-mountains, wealth-warders lurked in opulent halls lit by kindling-beacons. Their grand keeps, bedecked by fjord-flame, suffer not the pale grasp of the winter, the death-lament of the witch. For the inland has forgotten Ilmea's words, has forgotten the blood-toll of that azure encirclement, and their ignorance too bids the Starcalled and starcrossed to celebrate this time of famine, where the mind's fort chases down the white terror with horn-froth enough to down a bull.
But you are not them. When winter bites, you bite back. And when the leviathans stir, thirsting to draw the mead of wounds, you answer in kind.
The Northern kiss draws blushes from your cheeks as you brave this weather of wolves. Cold has turned the tears of the storm to icicles mid-flight, shards scattering against the longships you carry with your comrades. Rune-callers, cloistered wizards of wind and rain, do what they could from the front to ward off the brunt of the storm, and yet, their efforts feel as if for not. Only the Lantern nailed to your boat, crackling with the bane-of-wood, offers true sanctum from the finger-snapping cold, and with its light, you draw closer still to the edge of the frozen earth.

BOATS DOWN, OARS UP!
A black song rippled out from the lungs of the man who had acquisitioned you your seafaring gear. Ulfr Jormundson, the feller of the life-webs, toppled his longship upon the waves. A titan of a Bearfolk, the man of the frost-sea leapt aboard, joined soon by hale-and-hearty Landers bearing whale-harpoons and axes. Turning back to face you once more, he raised his fist up, then pounded it against the drum secured upon the bow of the dragonheaded vessel.

STARCALLED! FOLLOW MY LEAD!
Lightning cracked, and the wind brought with it the flesh-crave of the beasts. Oars cracked against the ice-sluice of the ocean waves, the backs of the warrior-sailors rippling beneath their oiled clothes, their passageway lit up only by the Lantern that blazed bright with the valor of their souls.

THE DEN OF THE WITCH-SPAWN AWAITS!






