Vittinghus narrowed his eyes as he approached the crest of the hill. A great white fur cloak encompassed his sturdy figure, wrapped around him tightly trapping in what little head and insulation he could squander. The cloak, cut from several large animals Vittinghus had hunted and carved himself, flowed down to his ankles and was knotted tightly below his neck so he didn't have to hold onto it. It was one of his favourite items of clothing; it helped keep him warm in the cold snowstorms and blizzards of Iferetes. It was a harsh but beautiful world, and the cloak helped him appreciate more of the beauty without experiencing as much of the harshness. On warmer nights, he used it as a cover for his body when he slept in the outdoors, and on colder, blistering nights he'd simply sleep with the cloak still wrapped around him. His feet, adorned in frayed but light footwear crunched in the snow as he broke the top of the hill and stepped onto the tip, allowing him to see for a vast distance around the area. His position must have looked breathtaking from a distance; a lonely figure standing atop a great hill. Picturesque.
Over the crest of the hill, he could see all of the surrounding area. Not too far in the distance, he could see other hills and vast mountains towering up from the ground. Closer to his position, Vittinghus could make out tall trees and large rocks breaking the cover of the snow. The terrain varied widely from areas of flat to swooping mounds and steeped hills. It was a beautiful sight. Vittinghus loved his home, and would die for it without question. His right hand gripping the extremely lengthy slugthrower rifle thrust the butt of the weapon into the snow. Naure had made modifications to it himself by extending it's barrel length and reinforcing its stock material, allowing it to double as a walking implement when travelling in rough weather conditions, or as a crutch-like instrument when on the move whilst injured. Sticking the rifle into the ground, it buried itself immediately under two feet of powdery snow. Vittinghus took a brief glance down at his feet to inspect the length of the snow before raising his eyebrows and turning his head to continue surveying the surrounding area. Suddenly, he frowned. There were figures in the distance.