[center][h1]Whispers of Wrath and Winter[/h1]
[@drewccapp][@Spanner][@Rune_Alchemist][@GrafRoy Zeppeli]
[/center]

The metallic jingle of the doorbell rang cheerfully as Rath exited the courier's station. The snow-capped building standing behind him was nice, warm place for messengers and couriers to take a much needed respite after hours of horse-riding. Its rustic, wooden features were a common style in the Giant Downs, which itself was littered with small cabin and hunting lodges. 
The cold air pooling at the foot of the mountain nipped at Rath's nose. Instead of feeling sluggish and half-frozen, he was bursting with energy. His muscles twitched, ready to jump into action.

With his steed's reign in hand, he sauntered off towards the road. A phantom wind whipped the snow into a flurry behind him, obscuring his figure. A small pixie alighted on his shoulder. Her butterfly wings were of made of boreal fire which burned coldly against his skin.

[color=lightsteelblue]"Imogen! What a pleasant surprise!"[/color] Rath breathed happily. His breath making puffs of steam in the frigid air.

[color=F0F8FF]"You can't prance around as a human forever, Rath. If you don't pick a side soon, one will be picked for you."[/color] Imogen's sweet and soft voice contrasted darkly with her harsh tone, but it held a trace of concern as well.

[color=lightsteelblue]"Hahaha! A pleasure as always!"[/color] He said without an ounce of sarcasm. [color=lightsteelblue]"But you know, I find this whole war business so tiring. Factions, politics, intrigue... They're all wasted on me. I'm much better suited to being out here with these blissfully ignorant humans. Who else will deliver their mail?"[/color]

The pixie stared at him flatly. [color=F0F8FF]"Is that something the Winter Knight should be saying?"[/color]

[color=lightsteelblue]"You should know a knight does not exist without the trust of a queen. And we have no queen. So I couldn't possibly be a knight!"[/color] He smiled impishly, letting the angry flutter of Imogen's wings bat his hair. 

The pixie darted up and hovered directly in front of Rath. Her tiny features were twisted in anger, and her wings flared. A thin veil of ice crystals began to spread across his face. [color=F0F8FF]"Rath, you [i]idiot![/i] I didn't come here to be patronized--least of all by [i]you![/i] I came to warn you!"[/color]

Rath looked at her wistfully and sighed. He seemed lonely despite the company. [color=lightsteelblue]"You're here to tell me the frost boggarts and weirds are hunting me, and that you put yourself at risk to do it. No?"[/color]

All the tension pixie's face disappeared in a second, clearly dumbfounded by what she had heard.

[color=lightsteelblue]"I guessed as much."[/color] Rath brushed past her with a smile. [color=lightsteelblue]"It's nice to know I still have friends who worry about me. I don't have many of those left."[/color]

Another burst of wind cut between the two bringing a wall of snow with it. He and his horse disappeared behind it.

[color=lightsteelblue]"Stay safe, Imogen."[/color] Rath called back. The rhythmic thud of hooves against the ground trailed in the wake of his voice.

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[center][h1]Into the Frostfell[/h1][/center]

The labyrinthian trails that skirted around and through the Frostfell mountains were often little more than narrow ledges overlooking a deadly drop or blocked altogether by a recent avalanche or blizzard. Some trails were natural, worn down by the trickle of a spring-time thaw, others were clearly carved out of the rock and ice to accommodate travellers. 

The shallow chasm that Whiteside occupied narrowed into a single path north which eventually forked. The northeast trail lead towards severe glaciers which clawed into the tallest peaks; biting winds howled around them and covered them in an obscuring white fog. Even a bystander in Whiteside could see the path was blatantly treacherous. The northwest trail was marked by a sign whose letters had been destroyed by encroaching ice and erosion. It read [i]To  ky V  e[/i]. The several feet of snow that covered the path suggested it was a road seldom traveled.

Mahon's parting advice indicated the fae preferred the windy peaks, but were all too happy to plague travelers anywhere in the Frostfell if they felt so inclined. He also hinted at some kind of territorial dispute between Wendigo tribes that he and the other residents of Whiteside would rather not be party to. It was dangerous enough to live in the north without malicious fae and cannibalistic shapeshifters complicating matters.