[color=ed1c24][center][h1]Blood-Mane[/h1][/center][/color] Ceaseless snow continued to pelt the kingdom of Death's Peak. The long lasting winter season had taken an especially brutal toll on the mountaintop kingdom, where high elevation and far northern geography already frequented harsh, snowy seasons. Giant icicles draped from the front gates, which was shrouded halfway to the top with massive snow drifts. A dark, hooded figure, cloaked by the torrential snowstorm, trudged into the kingdom. As he entered, a small crowed of familiar friends quickly welcomed the figure into the warmth of the local tavern. Inside, they all crowded around a letter their friend had brought. “That explains this awful weather,” stammered one of the members, after a brief pause to scan the page, “but who is Sulan Mudiye and why...” The letter carrier began to speak. Another interrupted “The king is forming an outfit of heroes?” followed by another “Mudiye was that old adventurer from the lower kingdoms, right?” The letter carrier raised his voice over the flood of comments. “Dead is what he is. He reached his old age a few months back.” “Then why is the king searching for him, and why bring the letter to our kingdom?” the first continued to ask. The letter carrier answered, “Word of Mudiye's death has not spread quickly enough. Had it, and I would not have had to make that pointless trip to the kingdoms at the bottom of this mountain. The letter has no recipient now, so here it lies. Wasted effort.” The band of close friends spent the night catching up with their traveling companion, drinking mead in the fanciful “Hall of Blood-Mane”. The giant statue depicting the legendary troll stood silently at the back, seeming to quietly watch the youth as they ate and drank. “So no heroes from this section of the land, it seems,” one of the companions finally let out as he perused the snow-drenched letter again. “Old Blood-Mane could stop those nasty villains,” mused another, looking distantly in the direction of the noble statue, “if he were still here.” “Or if he even existed,” another corrected. Conversation meandered to the well-known tales of the legendary beast, and argument over trivial details of the kingdom's history had somehow lured the group into the town library. Dusty books perched on old shelves, glazed in a thin layer of ice. The group sat huddled around a decrepit book, its title engraved in gold leaf “The History of The Kingdom of Death's Peak”. “...not more than a creature of stories and legend.” the letter carrier read,” But it is believed by most of those who dwell in Death's Peak, that Blood-Mane, upon seeing the prosperity of the kingdom, took it upon himself to retire into the desolate mountains of the north.” “So he may truly exist?” another of the friends pondered, distantly. Several days later, be it weariness of the dreaded winter, or simply youthful curiosity, a handful of the young friends decided to adventure north, in search of their kingdom’s legend. Packed with a handful of provisions and some warm clothes, the enthusiastic adventurer's began their journey. Several days of hiking and interrogating local villages eventually guided them to a small town on the foothills of the far northern mountain range. The cold and weary team entered into the shopkeeper's quarters, invited in for a warm tea. There, the old man told them many stories, none containing trolls, before hearing their tale. Intrigued by their courage and fiery spirit, he offered them passage deep into the mountains along side his son and his companions, who would journey into the mountain range occasionally for merchandise, apparently crafted by a hermit or something. After another several days trek, the cold wind biting ravenously at the crew, they prepared themselves for the trip back to their kingdom. Having wandered much of the mountain range with neither sighting nor rumor of a giant troll, the group decided to examine one more mystery before heading home. Atop one of the higher peaks sat a rather large cave, similar to the one outside their own village. After climbing the rather steep mountain, the group hesitantly entered the cave, planning to spend the night there to sleep before rejoining the shopkeeper's caravan and heading to the foothills. Immediately after entering, they were met with two giant, hairy feet. A monstrous figure, larger even than the statue in the mead hall, leaned down, his head larger than the tallest of the adventurers. His unusual face, with large ears and a giant nose, began to be illuminated by the light from the mouth of the cave. His mouth opened slightly, revealing large, sharp teeth. “We...” on of the small humans finally stammered ”We have come to summon you for … a quest … I guess?” The troll stared at the group, breathing out, and releasing a cloud of cold breath from his giant nostrils. “We're from Death's Peak,” another added, ”and we need your assistance once again. Great Blood-Mane ... you are Blood-Mane correct?” The troll continued to stare and breath. “The winter is, well, we, umm...we got this letter, summoning a, umm, a great hero.” The group then proceeded to read the letter aloud, unsure if the old troll, staring motionless, was even listening. As they read, they cleverly substituted the name Sulan Mudiye with Blood-Mane, as if it had been originally written that way. After finishing they stood silent for a moment, staring into the giant troll's black eyes. Another of the group eventually broke the silence, “So … will you help our kingdom?” The giant beast finally began to stand up, his long, matted fur brushing against the side of the cave. The group stared in wonder as the ancient monster began to slowly trudge down the mountain. The ground thundered as the figure slowly walked into the distance. As the old monster disappeared into the thick blizzard, one of the group finally broke the silence. “Why are there so many baskets in this cave?” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A small band of dwarfs walked up to a group of elves on bears. Snow fell over a dark, ominous army. On the horizon, through the relentless snowfall, a careful eye could just barely make out the outline of a large beast on one of the distant mountain peaks, motionless, watching the troops gather.