Whiteout

[Dravis Rosilla]

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MIDVINTER, THE WILDERNESS​

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There was only wind.

The cold, entangling, biting breeze was all Nacaolu could feel, tearing at the edges of his winter gear, yearning to infuse into him. It was all he could hear as well, a continuous howling and bellowing, like a speared animal. His sense of smell was gone, replaced by a sharp nipping at his nose. He could see nothing through the wind unless he squinted, shielding his eyes from the most dangerous beast on Midvinter: the cold.

Nacaolu had never been so cold in his life.

Up until he had step foot on Midvinter, that is.

Soft indentations in the snow followed a light grey shape, trudging through the snow with obvious difficulty. The being was wrapped in layers and layers of winter cloths and fabrics that blew uselessly in the wind. Under that, a cadre of heaters rattled against his belt, warming the form from the inside.

The form itself was tall, but no taller than the Valkyri that called Midvinter home. What set it apart were the stunning white scales that peeked out from the cloth wraps, and the elongated snout poking from a hood, blunt teeth poking from that. A wrapped up tail dragged behind the being, tracing a meandering path in the ground.

Nacaolu squinted, bracing himself as the cold winds pushed themselves against him again. The Suchuri hunter held his long slugthrower rifle in his hand with a vice-grip, afraid he would lose it in the coming storm.

And a storm was coming.

Nacaolu had come to the icy planet chasing rumors. Rumors that an enormous creature, the near-mythical Hrothwurm, had been spotted around a set of icy arches on Midvinter, and that it had killed over a hundred hunters in the span of a few short months. While Nacaolu figured the numbers were over-exaggerated, he decided to try his luck at taking down such a magnificent beast.

He'd underestimated the planet itself. He had only just reached the arches, see them spiraling in the distance, and he was on his last legs.

The Commenori Knight rubbed his clawed hands together, praying for any kind of warmth in his cold-blooded body. He felt a sudden, unqunechable sadness as his legs lost their strength, and he fell to his knees.

He would be killed, not in battle or by a beast, but by the elements.

| [member="Mysa Snowstrider"] |​

 

[Lief]

The dreaded Hrothwurm.

Demon of the tundra, smasher of the great ice lakes, eater of Valkyri men and women... How long had Mysa spent tracking down the snow-burrowers? During her youth here with Théodred she had wanted nothing more than to find one, though she knew better, with Éar she played Vhaanir vs. Hrothwurm, and prior to her removal from Midvinter at the hand of Joon she had been utilizing her time hunting with Gideon to keep tabs on where the behemoths were holed up.

Just recently she had finally reacquired a bow, a creation borne of her own hand, and she was itching to get out there again. She felt free when stalking quarry, with naught save the cool wind, snow for miles, and Gods shining down on her, for company. It still felt odd being home, she still worried that Joon lay around each corner, that the woman would drag her back to her side... Or that the alchemical fiend would jump out at her with another specter to puppeteer before her.

That latter thought made her shudder. She wished to never see him again, or his creepy constructs. She could still smell the metallic sting of blood on the air, even now. As though his bubbling cauldron was just a few feet away.

Shaking her head, Mysa tore her mind from what was to the present. Ahead of her lay an alk, one of the herd animals that was bred and hunted for food. It was not her favourite quarry, by a long shot, but perhaps it was better to start small? Gods knew it had been too long since she'd felt the pull of the bowstring, heard the whistle of an arrow as it carved its path through the air. Far too long.

And then, with the alk downsight, she loosed the notched arrow and held her breath.

[member="Nacaolu"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Nacaolu had never made a snow shelter before.

In all honesty, Nacaolu had never seen snow before today.

He had burrowed into a hill of the stuff, creating two holes; one large enough to squeeze through with his reptilian body, the other for air circulation. He had worked with stone before, he knew how to build, but trying to pack together and mold a suitable shield from the cold using dry snow was near impossible. How he had managed anything at all was behind him.

Perhaps his curse had been a blessing this time.

The soft glow of a weak fire illuminated the outside of Nacaolu's den, a hint of what was inside. The wrapped Suchur, sitting at the cusp of a campfire, claws extended toward the heat source, shivered slightly, a spark of electricity working it's way along his back. The heat did little to banish the biting air, only alleviating the sting slightly.

Then the world suddenly grew louder as the blizzard overtook the air.

| [member="Mysa Snowstrider"] |​

 

[Lief]

With arrow stuck into its hind, the poor alk bucked and flailed there in the sand, with droplets of its blood marking the strange excursion into sheer white snow. Not quite on target, but the bow was significantly different to her old one. Heavier, smaller, with a little more give. In fact, she was rather happy to have hit the alk at all.

A small exhale of breath had the air covered in mist. Beyond the trees a storm was brewing, it tossed the branches overhead until the trunks themselves bent beneath the strain. Pulling her cloak tighter with her free hand she pressed on after her quarry; it had come to halt at the edge of a pond, and there lay within the snow. The sound it made was horrifying, and for a moment she had flashes of the younglings in her mind. Blood, torn flesh, gurgles...

Shuddering, Mysa stood firm in the snow and calmed her breathing. She had to put it out of its misery, she had to tend to the hide, to the meat, before it began to rot, but something knotted her in place. Mysa was unable to shake the similarities from her mind.

You put them out of their misery too, the fiend had mutilated them... They weren't even alive, Mysa, and the others... The others would have died before anyone came. You were sat there alone for hours... They would have suffered until the end. They would never have survived.

Could the alk?

It was lame, it couldn't stand back up, if the native frir did not get it then it would starve. Possibly even suffocate under layers of snow given how heavy the fall was.

She placed the bow into its sheath at her side and reached for a small knife in her boot. Slow, patient steps brought her to the side of the felled creature, her lips moving in a silent prayer to the Gods above. She knelt, and brought Valkyri steel against its throat; in an instance the light was gone from its eyes, and blood seeped into the snow and the knees of her trousers.

"No part of you shall be wasted" she whispered, "I will honor you, my friend..."

[member="Nacaolu"]

 

[Dravis Rosilla]

Nacaolu warmed himself by the fire's edge, delighting in the tickling sensation of heat along his scales. It did little to warm him, but at least it felt good. He could feel his sluggish movements sharpening the longer he stood by the fire, his body temperature rising.

Then he heard a horrible shriek outside.

It came as a complete surprise to the Suchur. The being jumped, suddenly awake and alert. It was difficult to hear over the sounds of the storm, but the cry of something pierced through the white noise. Nacaolu didn't know what strange beast could make that sound, but he had to investigate.

What if it was the Hrothwurm?

The crocodilian pulled his slugthrower rifle from his back, and slunk out of his snow-cave. He surveyed the area cautiously, trying to squint through the flurry to see what had made the sound. He hefted his slugthrower protectively, spinning in confusion. Where had the noise come from?

There.

A figure, difficult to see, hunched over the form of some prey animal. They were about twenty meters away from his shelter, by a lake Nacaolu had missed while creating his cave. The Suchur stood tall, watching with interest, clutching his slugthrower tightly to himself. His tail waved in the wind behind him as he examined the sight, not daring to greet the figure, not able to move.

And somewhere not too far away, something else heard the cry of a wounded animal.

| [member="Mysa Snowstrider"] |​