At the south.. Stories abound of a realm gripped by frigid blankets of ice and snow. Where the sun dares not kiss the land with it's warmth for weeks on end. A country in which Frost giants and other beast stalk the land. Void of the fear of man. Villages are said to vanish leaving but frost bitten corpses in their wake. It is a tough environment, in which only the most strong of heart and unwavering resolve can truly survive. Amongst the frozen woods giant structures of civilizations lost remain. Enshrouded with a stagnant and seemingly everlasting sense of torpor. Structures which know not the stain of time or it's decay. Harrowing a tale of apexes lost to the pages of history. Yet despite the harsh nature of this realm. Many riches and beauty could be found scattered across the frozen land. Artifacts of great magical power remained buried in the belly of the earth. As well s countless archeological mysteries waiting to be unearthed. To the south of the realm rest a city barely touched by the song of ice and blood. The heart of the empire which had begun to push north. In an attempt to seize one of the last unexplored regions of this world. This city was known only as the pale. Outside of its stone walls and ivory towers could be found deep and lush woodlands. Most of which held secrets of their own. If one were to stop and rest within it's walls they would hear whispers of men cursed with the spirits of animals. Several tribes which have banded under a single banner to the north. Their leader was a man they known only as the silver eyed fox king. A clever creature which managed to hold off the empire and it's advancements for months so far. Resulting n a massive push and deployment of fresh boots. Meanwhile in the north... The first snowfall in many months had begun to decorate the woods. Covering the earth to the tallest of trees. An omen that winter had finally arrived. And with it soon would the darkness. The locals could hear lady winters daunting song as the birds flew south seeking warmer climates. Many of the wildlife had begun to prepare for the coming months, which will prove as a test for survival. From the hare to even man none could escape the trials to come. None could outrun the mountain of snow and frigid nights soon to enshroud the realm. Soon the rolling hills would become buried in a sheet of ice. As drifts taller then any man would soon litter the land. If one were to follow the windy path, they would find themselves heading deeper toward the heart of the woods. And closer to the mountains of Iroth and the town of Wiltinhelm. Where the rumored beast men dwell. And though they be but a few miles from the Pale and it's walls. This land still belonged to this tribe of savages. Silence was all that would beseech them. As the piercing eyes of their scouts could be felt barreling down on any traveler. Creating a sense of despondence. Just up a nearby hill the faint sound of a lute being played would bring a welcome clamor. And there nesting on a tree stomp over looking the lake a blonde hair blue eyed man could be found. His frame adorned with exquisite furs to provide warmth against the influence of the cold wind. Elegantly his fingers would dance up and down the neck of the string instrument. Plucking distinct chords as he hummed to match the tune. The melody he poured from his heart was dispirited and heavy. As if reflecting a great disposition in his heart. After a few moments had passed, the stranger would put away his lute. His hands rubbing against his rugged face. Feeling at ease in the wilderness. Void of any fear from these so called savages the empire loathes.