[center][color=orange][h1][b][u]Kalmar[/u][/b][/h1][/color][/center] [hr] The Jotnar were a new species, but they adapted well to life. Much better than the Vallamir did. The Frigid Forest was a special place, and the Jotnar had essentially been made for it, so it was only natural that they would thrive. Their height was perfect for plucking icefruit, while their strength and durability allowed them to go toe to toe with even the fiercest of predators. They required more sustenance than the standard Vallamir, it was true, but they were also fewer in number, and thus there was still enough food to be found. As he had with the Vallamir, Kalmar traveled amongst the Jotnar, telling them stories of the other gods and bestowing teachings that might aid in their survival. They listened to his tales with interest, and took note of the values he tried to encourage. Then, he received word that Ashalla was exploring the eastern coast of his continent, and so he had traveled south to greet her. Now that he was returning, it was time to continue his interaction with the Jotnar species. As he soared through the chilly air, he began to consider his next step. The Vallamir of the south had already been taught to wield various tools and weapons, yet those took time to craft. It could take hours if not days to carve a stone or whittle a piece of wood to a point where it could be usable for its intended purpose. And even then, there was only so much the resulting tools could do before they had worn themselves down and needed to be repaired or replaced. An idea had taken form. He set his sight on a large mountain. The Jorag Mountain, he would call it. Why not? It was the perfect place to implement his new plan, and so, he changed course toward it. In the meantime, he sent out a message. [hr] A number of Jotnar had already made their homes in the hills and highlands surrounding the mountains. He passed over their camps as he flew. He frequently saw fighting, but when he stopped to investigate more closely, he realized it was for sparring purposes only. And strangely enough, everyone - even the fighters themselves - seemed to take joy in it, cheering and smiling as the fight carried on. Other tests of strength were common as well - two Jotnar engaged in an arm wrestling match on a flat rock. Two other Jotnar were competing to see who could lift more objects before they fell over, laughing in the snow. A bit unusual, but it maintained their fitness and their skills, so it was hardly impractical. He flew to the northern side of the mountain, where he came across a section of raised, flat, rocky land, nestled between the mountain and the coast. It was where he had his meal with Kirron, actually. Kalmar landed, and he waited. [hr] The next day, as the sun was setting, a massive blue dragon appeared over the northern horizon. It was Vendral. The heads fixated on Kalmar, and the great winged beast landed, peering down at him. [color=orange]"It's been some time,"[/color] Kalmar stated. Vendral had been left to remain on the Twilight Isle, to observe Azura and her work. Vendral nodded one of its heads. "It has," he said non-committedly. [color=orange]"Anything to report?"[/color] Kalmar questioned. "No," Vendral answered. "No major changes have been made. None that I know of." Kalmar frowned. [color=orange]"I see,"[/color] he said, clearly disappointed. [color=orange]"And what about you? I know there's not much up there."[/color] "I can manage," Vendral answered. "There isn't much, but the cold is comfortable, and there are still some things available to eat." [color=orange]"Well, you might not need to stay there much longer,"[/color] Kalmar suggested. [color=orange]"A few more years, maybe, and there will be someone to perform the task in your place."[/color] Vendral appeared somewhat relieved. "Did you call me down here just to tell me this?" the blue dragon asked. [color=orange]"No, there's something else I had in mind,"[/color] Kalmar revealed, and then launched into an explanation. And Vendral listened. [hr] The dark mountainside was suddenly illuminated by bright blue flame. There, as instructed, the five heads of Vendral concentrated their coldfire on one specific point. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Then Kalmar stepped forward. Before the freezing flames could dissipate, the God of Cold outstretched his hands, and then clapped them together. The coldfire was suddenly condensed into a single frigid ball of light, which hovered toward him and into one hand. He raised his other hand, and a great slab of stone rose from the ground. With his mind he shaped, hollowing it out, creating a grating which things could be put on, a door with slots to see through. Had Kalmar known what an oven was, he would have observed that this very much looked like one. Then, he tossed the blue light inside, and shut the door. At once the light expanded, back into its coldfire form. It crashed against the walls of its new container, fighting to get out, with streams of it erupting through the slots. Then, Kalmar focused his will, and it began to settle. It continued to roar and flicker, but the coldfire no longer fought to escape or spread, and it would stay that way. He lifted something from the ground next to him. It was a simple stick, made entirely out of ice. As a weapon, it was worthless, and would surely shatter before it did any real damage. He opened the forge, and stuck it inside. A minute passed, and he pulled it out. Now, the ice glowed. He reared it back and, with force that would be impressive by mortal standards but disappointing by divine standards, swung it against the wall of his new construct. Neither the ice nor the stone broke. The Hunter smiled. Yes, this might work as intended. [hr] Weeks later, the Jotnar Tribes began to arrive. There were four tribes in total, the smallest numbering twenty and the largest numbering forty. As they ascended the slope leading up to mountain shelf, and gazed up at it in the afternoon light, they were amazed. The first thing they saw was a colossal tower, twelve stories high, and made of what appeared to be ice. They followed it downward, only for the tower's base to be obscured by a wall. The wall itself was impressive: forty-feet in height, and divided into sections by nine smaller towers - one of which was, oddly enough, made entirely out of stone rather than ice. When the tribes had ascended up to the shelf itself, they saw that one of the sections of wall had an opening. They assembled in front of it, talking and whispering amongst themselves. Kalmar had called them here. He said nothing of this structure. What was it. What was it for? Where did it come from? Four individuals - three men, and one women - stepped forward. Each one was the leader of their own tribe, and it was a position they had achieved through charisma, courage, intelligence, or strength. Either way, they had all been chosen for leadership, and what sort of leader would tell their people to enter a location without first ensuring it was safe? So, the four chieftans stepped through, their people following behind them. The wall was as thick as they were tall. They stepped into the courtyard. The colossal tower was in the center, and there were three more icy buildings built around it, against the rock of the mountain. Kalmar stood in front of the entrance to the great tower, waiting. Some had seen him before. Others had not, but knew him from description. All did the customary show of respect: a dipped head, and a clenched fist across the chest. Kalmar's eyes swept across the crowd, his gaze settling on the four chieftans. Ingrid, Ralof, Wulfgar, and Asvald, their names were. [color=orange]"The four of you. Come with me,"[/color] he commanded, before turning and walking around the tower, toward one of the buildings behind it. [hr] [color=orange]"This,"[/color] Kalmar said, as they stood within the vast icy room that was empty, save for a pile of odd stone slabs with strange shapes called into carved into them, and a stone monument which contained glowing blue fire, [color=orange]"is the Coldforge."[/color] The four looked upon it with wonder. Kalmar lifted one of the slabs. The shape had been filled in with snow and ice, and appeared to be some sort of weapon or tool, shaped like a cross. One end of the cross was about as long as the width of two Jotnar hands, and had was made entirely out of compacted snow, while the other was half as long as a Jotnar was tall, end was made out of ice. [color=orange]"This is a sword,"[/color] Kalmar explained, as he opened the Coldforge and slid the slab in, before shutting it. The blue fire seemed to come to life, enveloping the stone and the 'sword'. Kalmar allowed this process to continue for several long moments. Then, he opened the door, and the coldfire died down. He pulled the slab out, and removed the 'sword' from it, which seemed oversized in his hands. It was mostly unchanged... only the snow now had the texture and smoothness of stone, while the ice glowed a soft blue. [color=orange]"The handle is as strong as stone, and the blade as strong as metal,"[/color] Kalmar informed them. [color=orange]"Though you don't know what metal is."[/color] He wrapped the hilt in fur, and then held it out. The blue-haired Ingrid stepped forward and accepted it, inspecting the blade with interest. She pressed a finger to its edge, only to wince as a drop of blue blood was drawn. Asvald with his bushy blond beard walked up next to her, took one glance at the sword, and then looked back at his God. He opened his mouth to speak, but the grey-haired Wulfgar spoke first. "This is what you wanted to show us?" he asked, in a gruff voice similar to Kalmar's. Blond Ralof winced slightly. Kalmar nodded. [color=orange]"It is,"[/color] he confirmed. [color=orange]"Consider it a gift. Not just for you, but for all the Jotnar. With the Coldforge, you can create tools and weapons which will make your tasks easier. If you wish, you and your tribes are free to live here."[/color] Four pairs of eyebrows shot up. Ingrid smiled, Asvald and Ralof were shocked, while Wulfgar seemed skeptical. [color=orange]"However,"[/color] Kalmar continued. [color=orange]"There will be conditions. In choosing to live here, you must take up the task of guarding the Coldforge against those who might abuse it. You also take up the task of distributing its weapons and tools to your fellow Jotnar. You may request food or supplies in exchange for this, but only based on necessity. You will not give these tools to those you know will abuse them, and you will not abuse them yourselves, or raise them against your fellow Jotnar unless provoked. Do you agree?"[/color] "We do!" Asvald said at once with a nod. But Kalmar did not seem convinced. [color=orange]"Long ago, on another continent, with a different people, there was once a leader who was given a gift. Weapons, which he could have used to aid his hunters or defend his people. Instead he chose to strike at his neighbors. Countless lives were ended on both sides, nothing but bloodshed was accomplished, and in the end, he lost everything. His army was trapped and destroyed - not by the hand of any god, but by the mortals he tried to dominate. He died, and all who remembered him hated him."[/color] His tone was harsh, and grim. [color=orange]"I do not want to see this story repeat itself. If it does, you will share the same fate."[/color] Three of the four seemed taken aback by the dire warning. Wulfgar, however, stepped forward. "It's a fair offer," he declared, giving another respectful salute. "I accept." "I accepted as well." Ingrid saluted. "And me." "I as well." Kalmar nodded. [color=orange]"Good. Tell your people of these terms. All who do not accept are free to leave. The rest will stay here, and make as many weapons and tools as they can. I will spread the word, and when I do, people will seek you out. Be ready. Remember my conditions, and know that you can be replaced if you disregard them."[/color] And with that dire warning, the Hunter exited the room. "This is a blessed day," Ingrid smiled. "A lot of pressure, though," Ralof pointed out. "So?" Wulfgar arched an eyebrow. "We've been given a task. It's time to rise to it." He looked to Asvald. "You have anything to say?" Asvald shook his head. "All that needs to be said has already been said." "Then let's get to it," Ingrid declared, her smile returning. [hr] [hider=Post Summary] Kalmar has been telling the Jotnar stories and teaching them how to make stone tools. He then goes to meet Ashalla, which happened in another post. After he returns from said meeting, he decides to build a special monument, known as the Coldforge, and constructs a castle out of ice and stone. He invites some Jotnar to come, and explains that if they agree to guard the Coldforge and moderate who has access to it, they will be allowed to live in the castle and have full access to the Coldforge itself. They accept. [/hider] [hider=Might Summary] [u]Kalmar[/u] [b]Beginning MP:[/b] 1 [b]Beginning FP:[/b] 9 [u]Expenditures[/u] -1FP to teach the Jotnar how to make stone tools. -1FP (discounted to 0 by hunting portfolio) to teach the Jotnar how to hunt. -3FP (enhanced by the Cold portfolio) to create the Coldforge. -2FP to start the Forgeguard, a Jotnar Holy Order. -1FP to create the Frozen Citadel. -1FP to gift the Jotnar stone moulds of various weapons and tools. [b]Beginning MP:[/b] 1 [b]Beginning FP:[/b] 1 [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Forgeguard[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 0 +1 for minor role. +1 for major role. [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 2 [/hider] [hider=The Coldforge] The Coldforge looks like a stone oven with blue flame. You take something made of ice, or snow, and then you put it inside. The snow and or ice is then made harder and stronger, rivaling stone or steel, while being considerably lighter. These items are also permanently imbued with cold magic: they are always freezing cold to the touch, and they will never melt. Coldforged weapons emit a shrieking sound when struck, and after repeated strikes, mundane weapons used against them will become increasingly brittle and risk breaking. Although the Coldforge is a 3FP monument, only 2 of this MP goes toward the creation of the weapons. 1FP goes toward another function which will be revealed in time. [/hider] [hider=The Frozen Citadel] Note: the Frozen Citadel is not made purely out of ice. The ice is actually more like a substance known as Pyrkrete; an alloy of 86% ice and 14% sawdust, that is comparable to concrete in strength and solidity. In this case, simply replace sawdust with shavings of stone. [img]https://i.imgur.com/lvfmE0H.png[/img] [/hider]