Frostbitten

[caligari]

Not much remains now of the glory and radiance of the ancient city of Lothwerth, while the buildings still remain incased in ice and blanketed by a thick layer of snow, much of what it housed that attracted foreign travelers once has been taken by external forces or dimmed in the wake of ages passed. Though even now its power still lives on as a former shadow of itself.
Travel north as far as the world will take you then travel north as far as your legs can carry you, passed the bustling cities of man, at the end of the ceaseless oceans of the calm seas and over the bodies of those who came before you and let your eyes behold the city of eternal winter. How quant it must feel, to witness this sight of what was once the epicentre of the world and realise it stands as solemn ruler over naught but ice and snow and death.
Many secrets it once housed, many more it still holds behind closed doors, mazelike streets and maddening enigmas. Its former residents still wander the streets dead and cold, but moving all the same, speaking some lost tongue, searching endless and pointless, dreaming of some sweet release that will never come. Its rulers still reside in their high towers and mansion, reduced to mere spectres trapped in a constant cruel loop forced to haunt the halls of their homes until the end of time without realising everything and everyone has long since passed. And above it all stand a castle, gazing down on its former realm. It is unknown what mysteries it holds, many have entered the structure, none have come out. Lights can still be seen coming from the windows at night, the gates open and close on regular intervals as they once did and the bells signaling the death of a ruler ring each night.
Why have you come here? Did you come in search of the hidden knowledge this city still clutches firmly in grasp? Did you come for the vast riches and trinkets scattered in the buildings of the frozen capitol which would asure your place in the upper echelon of the rich and wealthy. Maybe you came for fame and glory, to become the first to unravel the secrets of the infamous northern realm and become immortal in the many books that you will be written of your adventure. Or maybe... maybe you came for power, to bend the force that brought this great nation to its knees to your own will. Many have come before you, few returned with their lives, fewer still with their minds.

---

"How long has it been" Hugh thought as he navigated the narrow streets of the frozen city, his feet making but slight crunching sounds as the snow beneath his tread compressed under his weight. "Days? Weeks? Months?" He had lost count. How could he keep track? The sun was but a rare sight this far north save for the hours so few they can easily be counted on one hand. The only thing that let him know of a new day were the accursed bells of Lothwerth castle. Even in his darkest nightmares he could hear those bells ring to remind him of this frozen hell in which he resides.
Lost in thought, Hugh almost didn't hear the soft mumbling sound echoing of the icy walls of the street. In an instant the rifleman stopped dead in his tracks and peaked his ears. Whispers first, then louder, the wandering dead were definitely coming closer. He turned to retrace his steps but soon realised they were coming from the other side as well. Trapped on both sides, Hugh readied his rifle in case of the worst case scenario, but was in no mood for a scuffle with the locals.
The doors of the houses rarely budge, even if they are not locked, the hinges are always rusted and frozen. Still, Hugh tried his luck and attempted to kick down the door of one of the houses to his right. While it didn't open, per se, he did manage to kick out two planks rotten enough to create a whole through which he could wriggle himself inside.
To say the residence was dark would be an understatement, the place was pitch black. He hated going indoors, they houses are always too dark to see and not even the Gods knew what lurked in the shadows. Still he ventured inside slowly as to not make too much noise should he bump into something, his ears being his biggest asset in the darkness.​

 

[Namora]

Rowyn Damaris

--


The frozen earth crunched beneath her boots as the traveller trekked on. Her fur-lined hood was tied to keep her ears from becoming overly chilled and a scarf was drawn over the lower half of her face, keeping her nose and lips from turning blue. Her breath was trapped beneath the cloth, and it warmed her flush cheeks for brief moments. A slow snowfall had steadily drifted down from the cloudy sky above, flakes of snow decorated her dark eyelashes. Though her body was tired and sore she continued to move, one step after another in a rhythmic cacophony of crunching of snow and stone. Awhile back the ground had begun to slope upwards, and the muscles in her legs complained as she ascended the hill. She blinked the pain away, rolling her stiff shoulders in response and shifting the bag they sported.

She climbed to the crest of the hill and halted there, allowing herself a moment to allow her eyes to drink the sight in. There it stood, a land of legend.

Making it here was more than she'd ever even allowed herself to imagine... Growing up and hearing stories of it, she'd tried to imagine the majesty of it. A beautiful city, the greatest that had ever been, tainted by corruption and death. But only this sight could truly portray the tragety of how great it had been, and how far it had fallen... Even from here it was evident how grand it had once been, but time had taken it's toll. Decay and a lack of care had led to the collapse of various scattered building, for cold could not preserve all things. Yet, somehow, even in a state such as this it possessed an ethereal, eerie and almost unnatural beauty to it.

The blonde woman let a slow breath out. Yes, she'd made it, but there wasn't time to let her heart swell with pride. She was here for a purpose, and nothing would deter her from that raison d'etre.

Despite that, the sight of the frostbitten city was awe-inspiring, and as she peered up at the spires of the castle as they rose high, still proudly piercing the sky above she was reminded of her caretaker. The old nursemaid had an odd wisdom to her, and each night she'd sing the Damaris children to sleep. Wyn could recall how her mother had nearly dismissed the crone for scaring her children with such frivolous legends. Rowyn had always found her sung tales fascinating, while Robyn tended to need to curl up with either of his sisters because he was afraid that the monster from whatever story would come for him. He was the weakest of the three, despite being the only son and heir. At least Rosalyn was good at putting on a brave face when she was scared.

Looking at the scene below, he lips began to move of their own accord. She'd heard it so many times that even after all this time the words flowed naturally. As she descended toward the city gripped by a merciless icy fist she began to sing. The notes seemed to carry on the wind,

"Little child, sweet and bright. There was a Kingdom forged of light.
Lend me an ear now, and I'll tell you just how
Shadow rose and Evil stole
Our mirth. The Great City of Lothwerth.

Close your eyes and listen to me. Learn how the place where the dead breath came to be
Hear how Death rose, hear how he froze all we held dear.
For himself, he claimed our pride. Strangled it until hope had died
Little child, listen well. I'll tell you the tale of the kingdom that fell--"

Wyn cut herself off from her song as she noticed that a lone man wandering toward her. Her instinct and nerves put her on edge. In her time, she'd found it was very rare that the company you stumbled across was friendly, especially in a city that seemed to be cursed. The way he moved was stiff and the closer he got, the more off his skin's pigment looked. When she could clearly see the blue of his skin and his blackened fingers the girl made her way hurriedly toward the city, making a note to avoid any other shambling corpses she came across. For the most part she stuck to the side roads, all the while keeping an eye out for building that showed minimal signs of age. Wyn eventually came across something rather ideal, all things considered.

The girl proceeded to climb up and in through the second window so as to keep intruders from wandering in through a broken door. The girl moved down to the ground floor, and despite the cold, refrained from building a fire out of a want to not attract unwanted attention. Instead to keep warm she simply drew her legs into her jacket and curled up in the corner of the room beside her bag. The plan was simple, she figured a bit of rest would do her some good, and she could decide where to go from there when she woke.

--

She was torn from her chilly rest by the distinct sound of wood breaking. The blonde sat upright, suddenly alert. In the utter blackness of the room she snatched up and unsheathed her dagger before following the sound as best she could.

The light filtering in from the outside through the newly made hole in the door hardly made much of a difference for visibility. If anything it seemed to make it harder, due to the contrast of sheer darkness and grey light. She didn't need light however, to know that someone was in here. Their footfalls were light and relatively close. From here she couldn't quite make out if their back was to her or not and that was an issue. If she was going to deal with this thing, she would need to get the drop on it. She tried to moved as quietly as she could, groping the ground and feeling for a stray stone. After a bit of searching, her fingers brushed a cool rock and she plucked it up. The girl tossed it across the room with the hope of distracting the thing, even for just a moment... Clack, went the stone as it hit the wall, and with that she stepped out from around the doorway's bend and rushed him.​

 

[caligari]

With his rifle at the ready, Hugh did his best to scan the room with every inch he moved in deeper into the building. He knew something was in there, not because there's always something lurking in the old buildings, but because he could feel it. The light entering through the hole in the door did little to help him, it was dim to begin with, but caused his eyes adjusted to what light there was so every spot that didn't have the same level of illumination became even darker to his sight.

Suddenly he stopped, thinking he had heard something, soft and subtle movement in the dark, not exactly something he's used to from the locals. Then, out of nowhere, clack, the sound of something hitting the wall. In an instant he turned to face it, finger on the trigger only to see in the corner of his eye the flash of light hitting the metal on a blade slicing through the air toward him at a breakneck speed. This most certainly wasn't one of the usual residents.

Knowing that by the time he turned back around, his assailant would be too close to him to make his rifle useful, he simply dropped it and grabbed for the wrist of the hand that held the blade, while his free hand reached for the bayonet hanging from his back belt. Though the momentum of his attacker was so fierce that he was pushed back a small step and stumbled over something in the dark. Not wanting to let go of the hand that held the weapon meant for his neck, he merely dragged his foe down with him.​

 

[Namora]

Rowyn Damaris

--


She charged through the darkness, closing the gap between the lone figure in the main room and herself. Wyn's boots clicked against the ground as she took a couple quick footsteps to keep up her speed and force. The figure whipped around to face her, its reaction time was quicker than she'd been prepared for but she didn't pull back. At this point she'd already given away her presence and position. If she fell back then, she'd lose an advantage she had. Something dropped to the floor noisily and a gloved hand with chilled fingertips seized her wrist. She winced as the hand tightened and grunted when she slammed into it with momentum and her body weight behind her. The two went crashing down to the floor.

The girl managed to keep herself upright, and used her position to try and force the knife down. Her opponent's grip was painfully tight, and it threatened to force her hand to release the blade. She grit her teeth and struggled against him, trying to get her weight behind the blade to force it down. As she fought to end it, a brief realization crossed her mind. She felt warmth from the chilled digits she blinked in surprise, "You're... alive?" She breathed the words in mild disbelief. For a moment, one brief split second, she felt a flood of relief, and then suspicion and caution reigned supreme.

She was in the middle of a cursed land void of any civilization for leagues, there shouldn't have been anyone here. She shouldn't have been here. In the darkness, her eyes narrowed, trying to gather details of this stranger, "What in seven hells is a living person doing here?" She demanded through grit teeth. As she questioned him, the knife lost the lethal push behind it, but it remained firm and threatening. Looming just above his throat.
​

 

[caligari]

"You're... alive?" the words pierced his mind in a way the madness Lothwerth had dumped upon him never could. Was he going mad? Was this some strange and cruel joke his mind played on him as he laid on the ground at the edge of the knife wielded by some dead local? No it couldn't be, it all felt too real. Another living and breathing human being? Here in Lothwerth? "What in seven hells is a living person doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, you mad snake!" He really could, in fact it was the only question on his mind at the time. Still reaching for his bayonet, he wriggled his hand under his back until he had the musket pike at his fingertips. In a split second he pulled it from underneath him and held the sharpened tip at his foe's throat in a similar manner as she did with him. "Now, how about you remove your knife from my throat, remove your person from me and head up the stairs before the locals decide to see what all the ruckus is about?"

Due to her actions, it was clear to Hugh that she was a new arrival, he had learned in his time in Lothwerth that actively assaulting the local populous is rarely a good idea. Residents who, by the sound coming through the hole in the door, were coming increasingly closer. Occasionally removing his sight from his assailant, he glanced at the door hoping they wouldn't come in.

 

[Namora]

Rowyn Damaris

--


The body beneath her seemed to stiffen in surprise beneath her between questions, but a husky voice broke the silence, "I could ask you the same thing, you mad snake!" She thought for a moment. That... was fair. However, she had asked first, and at the moment, she had better leverage. The blonde was about to tell him such when he tilted his body slightly. The glint caught the light and Rowyn instinctively raised her chin up and pulled back to keep it from her jugular. She sucking in air through her teeth suddenly and sounding very much like the snake he'd just titled her as... The cold metal touched her throat, stopping just at the point began to dig in painfully. Internally she cursed herself, she hadn't paid much attention to his subtle movements. Figuring he'd just been fidgeting. She hissed a curse under her breath, "Now, how about you remove your knife from my throat, remove your person from me and head up the stairs before the locals decide to see what all the ruckus is about?"

The girl blinked twice, frowning slightly. At the mention of the locals she became more wary of the gaping hole in the door to her back.

The thought of something like the old frozen man she'd encountered earlier on the outskirts of the village. She weighed her options, glaring down at him. Slowly but surely her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. She could make out his basic shape but not much else seeing as her attention was drawn to the spike at her throat. She gulped, "Very well."
She whispered before she began to pull her hands, armed and otherwise, away slowly. Wyn carefully began to climb to her feet and back away. Her sheathed her dagger and found that her wrist ached from his coarse grip. She rubbed it, as if doing so would help, clenching and unclenching her fist before backing toward the doorway she'd come from to retrieve her bag. She kept an eye on his dark silhouette, and an ear trained for sounds from either him or the Locals. The girl began to climb the steps, fingers lingering over her knife's hilt in case he proved to be less than friendly.​

 

[caligari]

As she backed away, Hugh began to lower his bayonet. The entire situation still rattled him, in all his time residing in Lothwerth he had seen many signs of previous adventurers and explorers, but he had never seen one besides himself. Well, unless you count the bodies scattered around certain places across the city, in which case Hugh has had pleasure of meeting quite a few of them.

The rifleman got to his feet as soon as he could and quickly picked up his musket after feeling around a bit in the dark. As soon as he had his firearm he fixed the bayonet on top of it and followed his former assailant through the door, all the while staring back at the entrance to the building he created. The woman who tried to carve him up might be quick to the draw, but the locals don't get off you if you ask them politely.

Once up the stairs, Hugh closed the door behind him before turning back to his new acquaintance, the business end of both his rifle and his bayonet cautiously pointed at her direction in case she would once again have any bright ideas. "Now then, how about you tell me what you think you're doing in hell?" In the light of the upper floor Hugh could finally see his assailant a bit more properly, she was young, younger than him in any case, and seemed too green to be wandering the streets of Lothwerth.