Reign of Winter

Thelal's Missive

Journal, the first

I write in spite of the wound to the back of my head, and perhaps the greater injury to my pride that I have recently suffered. I found myself lost, stranded, and certainly ensorcelled away from my new companions into a damnable snowstorm. Clearly, witchcraft – I am coldborn and have always known my way about the drifts of white. Regardless, I felt a terrible clap to my head, and awoke in the fae…but not the courts I am used to. Instead, a foul creature calling itself Izoze dictated to me the conditions of my release. Sad to say, I had to comply with some of the foul mephits’ wishes, but do not lose hope in Thelal Whisperways – he had a silver bone left yet to play.
I emerged on a bridge, from whence I am not certain, but I had been released from the clutches of the Unseelie! A bridge, a crossing! And with my companions I was soon reunited. Yes, there was a great tussle, and in the aftermath of the battle, we rested. But lo, friend, this is where you see that the greatest weapon of all is Pride – for Izoze returned to finish her botched job, and was hence slain by magics and steel! We were as heroes of old, rescuing a damsel, they said. And with this victory we were propelled onwards. Onwards, to face a curious creature of porcelain and child’s worry – a doll, though seemingly harmless, was actually a cruel creature sent from the feline breast of Greymalkin herself!
After dispatching the terrible molly dolly, we progressed further into a maze of ice that seemingly was haunted with spirits, one of a little girl! Perhaps it was she who once had that terrifying toy. After crossing through this frozen labyrinth, we found ourselves faced with all sorts of creatures bizarre and cruel – foundlings in icicles and a troll…a troll, a hated foe of the winter court, until we were eventually victorious. Doing so, we were able to approach a swirling vortex of ice and frost, seemingly a portal. Out of this portal, an old man emerged! But this was no mere old man, but instead the Black Rider of the White Witch, Baba Yaga! I have heard of her knights, those who do her bidding in the mortal realm while she and her huts dance across the realms and planes, counting the knucklebones of sinners. But hark, we hear from this rider, wounded it would seem, that Baba Yaga is missing, and her hut needs to be liberated…in Irrisen?! The land of witches, mortals who leech power from the First World. It would seem that more than just the Geas that has been placed on our merry band motivates us. I for one have no love of the frozen temptresses in the north and their foul sorceries. We leap forth, transported!


jacobzwaldman jacobzwaldman

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