-Flying over the Freljord her winds extended to their fullest comfortably gliding using the wind currents drifting with such easy and grace as the wind rushes past her crystalline face and another air current gushes against her wings and pushes her further upward, she always relishes these moments. They are like pockets of hot air that collide with the cool winds create an upward thrust making the journey an almost effortless one.
She has flown this path before she knows exactly where they are to minimize any effort. The cold as it may be the sun does shine over Freljord, while it does no good to warm the land it does indeed illuminate the area. Sunlight glistens off the frozen ice creating a colorful aurora of blue and green colors and all the possible combinations in between.
As she surveys the calm of the ice land below her, flying proudly over the land she is meant to protect, she starts to realize something is wrong, the land starts to look deranged the ice shards start to look more spiked and protrude fiercely from the ground, the land itself looks ominous, the colorful aura caused by the sun reflecting off the ice that was once there is gone and so is the sun, hidden from sight by the clouds it is no longer visible. The earth gives off a darker tone but not from the absent sun, no something more malicious is at work.
Winds start to gush uncontrollable as she tries to maintain balance; the winds are now pushing her aside blowing from every direction making it impossible to adjust her wings to compensate. Her vision is now minimal, strong winds and snow make her unable to ahead of her let alone the ground beneath. Darkness envelops her sight as she ties to fight it, tho she knows she cant she has tried dozens of times before to no avail. Darkness creeps in all around her vision etching ever closer around her eyes as she tries desperately to stay aloft.
Finally she no longer has the strength and starts to plummet to the ground, wind and snow swoosh past her face she falls for what seems like an eternity to the ground. She can no longer see but is still aware of that she is descending and rapidly so. In a nose dive she crashes into the ground… and wakes up from her dream again-
Cold wind pierced the still air with a screech; the land lay barren covered in a blanket of pure white snow. Snow that falls for what seems like an eternity, forsaken is this desolate land at least for the most part… Jagged icicles protrude and form on anything not strong or perhaps foolish enough to venture out into the cold covering it in pure blue ice, perfectly preserved with the last tumultuous expression that pitiful creature could summon before it inhaled that final cold breath of air, forever sealing its fate as an eternal sculpture. A blanket of white snow and blue crystalline ice creates a melancholy yet almost serene atmosphere. There is but one sound that is heard in the Frejlord that un-resting, unwavering ear piercing screech of the cold unforgiving wind.
This land is frozen, winds that dig into your bones, icy snow grasping on to your boots as you trench through, yet colder still is at the heart and source of all this ice, the epicenter of these lands which seems to both converge and emanate the cold to the furthest reaches of this realm. It is rumored that this is where the harsh winds in Freljord originates. A fitting name the "Howling Abbys"
Deep within the Frejlord the epicenter of the storm; the Howling Abyss, but unlike the heart of the storm the center is far from calm but rather the most tempestuous part of it. The caverns of the howling abyss stretch for what seems like miles stalagmites and stalactites of ice far larger than any mortal man, clinging to its walls. The ice is cold here at these depths, ice that is no longer blue, ice that has been frozen over time and time again each layer adding to the original for millennia, ice so cold it ceased to be what it one was, water in its original form, but now forever remains in that state that it now is. Its color too has changed no longer the clear blue associated with the rest of the tundra, but a darker black ice formed from the intense concentration of the frigid ice. Yet cold alone did not cause this… no it merely plays a part.
A dark magic haunts this place, one that seeps through every crevasse of ice, it is that which causes the ice to radiate such a color, perhaps radiate is not an accurate description but sap the surrounding light from anything within close proximity, giving the ice the illusion of its darkness emanating from a source.
A large structure fortress dominated the skyline. Made of thousands of ice shards all tightly packed it is as much a part of the land itself. This dourly construct, while all imposing was not made to keep someone from getting in but rather deter those from letting something else out….
Surrounding this structure nestled around the ice caverns and walls around it are tents that some call home. A home created within the ice never forcing the ice apart, in a way respecting the surroundings. There is not much inside these homes basic necessities; a bed, some cups and bowls, furs for warmth… a true Spartan lifestyle, minimalistic with no simple pleasures or tolerance for luxury. No flowers no decorations, this lifestyle was meant to forge the strongest men and women, for only the strongest could survive in the most unforgiving part of Freljord or even Runeterra!
Here dwell the Frostguard a might and noble people, as strong as they come and tough as ice to boot. They are towering hulking people and striking in their demeanor with a rugged sternness borne of their harsh upbringing. Clad in heavy furs of white and leather harness around their torsos. The harness is used to carry their various knives during their hunting excursions to gut their prey and obtain their furs. It is also said that the Frostguard carry large pole arms the size of a fully-grown normal man and of equal weight.
The Frostguard have no qualms with others on Freljord so far but outsiders who come in groups for trade witness their prowess in the sparing sessions. With sheer force they have never seen, traders can only marvel at their might and while they are welcome to join in such friendly matches none dare to do so.
However unbeknownst to the rest of the world something has corrupted them, twisting their task as guardians and protectors of what lines within the fortress, they have become something different something darker.
Their location at the base of a mountain provides them with some shelter to the storm. The frost guard live in the surrounding mountains of ice but between the stronghold and the mountainside is a wide vastness of nothing, the ground itself s made of ice making it difficult to traverse on foot and useless as a foundation for building anything on top of.
To get around such distances the Frostguard use a device known as ice surfers. They are reminiscent of boats in a way but upon further inspection they clearly use skis and the bottom arranged in parallel and are controlled by a sophisticated set of ropes of pulleys connected to the main mast. The Frostguard use the land to their advantage, the mast is made up of two parts sail; one controlling the speed of the ice surfer and the other in conjunction with the skis adjust for the turns. These devices are known to reach incredibly fast speeds given a good wind and take many years to master. There are depictions on the wall of the older generations of Frostguard using these contraptions for hunting and it is still used to a lesser extent today, however heavy snow makes them unusable in most cases.
Across from the vastness of the land and opposite the fortress lies a great bridge, the only way in or out of the howling abyss. At the ends of the bridge stands two large statues, tho the features are eroded through time as the rocks are chiseled away, however the outline of men adorning spiked helmets and great swords can still be made out through the snow that accumulates on top. Etched on these swords are runic symbols similar to those used for centuries to empower weapons with great mystical powers.
Great chains connect these statues to pillars along the bridge, meaning these statues play a structural role as well as an awesome display of might. The bridge itself spans many meters and is large enough to support entire army at once, which has been proven in the past. A great war was fought here and while the corpses are now all gone and bones withered away, remnants of a great battle can be seen through the armaments of broken shields shattered armor and helmets littering the sides of the bride as they were kicked aside by travels to make a clear a path.
The bridge connects the howling abyss to the rest of Freljord and in the middle is where the second half of its name comes from. As far as the eye can see a gaping chasm that has no end lies underneath the bridge, its bottom shrouded by the turmoil of snow and winds that cloud ones sight. No one knows how deep the abyss is; travelers have described it as a scar in the world, a missing part that has some how fallen off and this bridge is now what connects these two separate chunks of land. The abyss. A fitting name but they may as well have called it the void given its unfathomable depths..
Every member of the tribe is taught that in unity there is strength and the only way to survive was to be incorporated fully into the clan and their way of life or face the winters embrace alone in the cold. Venturing alone across the bridge was considered suicide and was only used as a death sentence in the most extreme cases. No one has ever left the howling ford alone and survived… no one that is but the most unlikely of people - little boy names Nunu…
Nunu was a rambunctious little child born as a member of the Frost guard. He was a precious kid and the tribe elders had hopes of him being a great warrior one day, alas his troublemaking nature and lack of regard for traditions made such predictions laughable at best. Nunu was always curious of the world around him and never quite fit into the Frostguard society. He felt that there was something not quite right about the Frostguard even back before he made his escape years ago. Born with a kind spirit, Nunu was always compassionate in nature, his parents seeing this as a flaw that would end in his death, had always pushed him to be more ruthless as they felt that strength and unity where the only tools that would help him survive in these lands.
He was ordered to work as an apprentice beast master. The beast master would care for the Yetis, one of the few fauna of the Freljord that could bear this harsh environment. The Yeti's known for raw physical strength and at times a mystical connection with the ice, were used as slaves to do menial tasks of gathering and lifting often treated with harshness and severely whipped for the most minor of transgressions. Nunu never liked this he grew fond of the Yetis that he was given charge of one in particular called Willump. He saw him for not for the mindless aberrations that his master had always warned him of but of his more docile shamanistic nature, he was more in tune with nature than his master ever knew. As tall as a tree Yetis were covered from head to toe with soft pure white fur that caressed his fine tuned well built body with every movement.
He grew a strong bond with the creature and became the closest of friends. His master noticing this relationship and set forth to prove a point, he gathered two men to hold down the yeti to the ground to be taught a lesson right before Nunu's eyes, reminding him that they are mere servants to our cause. But as the master readied his whip in anticipation to strike, Nunu immediately jumped in front of his friend.
Perhaps it was the numerous whippings or the enslavement of his people or perhaps the determination and kindness of this small boy, but something in Willump snapped! His blood began to boil and a blinding rage fell over him. Immediately using his arms he pulled both guards toward each other and knocked their heads together severely denting and fracturing their precious horned helmets and they fell to the ground. Then he lunged at the master in aid of his friend pounding his fists over and over into the man's torso with unkempt fury driving his body deeper into the snow. After the rage subsided in Willump, Nunu saw that all three men where now dead and bloodstains soaked in the snow giving it a tainted reddish look.
He had a choice to make; venture into the unforgiving cold across the bridge or stay in the only home he's known and watch his friend most likely tortured and killed for his actions. So he rode atop of his friend and guided him forward across the bridge hoping to never return. As he reached the other side he reined Willump to stop as he turned around and stared for what he though was the last time onto the Frostguard citadel, then without a word they both continued into the snow in search of a place beyond what they once called home.
"-Flying proudly over the realm she is meant to protect, she begins to realize something is wrong. The ground starts to look deranged the ice shards start to look more spiked and protrude fiercely from the ground, the land itself looks ominous, the once colorful aura caused by the sun reflecting off the ice shards that was once there is gone and so is the sun; hidden from sight by a cloudy mist it is no longer visible. The earth gives off a darker tone one not from the absent sun, no something more malicious is certainly at work.
Winds start to gush uncontrollable as she tries to maintain balance; the winds are now pushing her from side to side blowing from every direction making it impossible to adjust her wings to compensate. Her vision is now minimal, strong winds and snow make her unable to see ahead of her let alone the ground beneath. Darkness envelops her sight as she ties to fight it, though she knows she cant she has tried dozens of times before to no avail. Darkness creeps in all around her vision, etching ever closer around her eyes as she tries desperately to stay aloft. Finally she no longer has the strength and her wings way, she starts to plummet to the ground, wind and snow swoosh past her face. She falls for what seems like an eternity to the ground. She can no longer see but is still aware that she is descending and rapidly so. In a nose dive she crashes into the ground… and wakes up from her dream yet again-
Awakening from an intense dream, she stares around in disarray still groggy, she looks around her cave for any immediate sign of danger but she noticed only that everything is in order… After a brief moment of calm she crouches down for a moment into her nest. Even though it was only a dream it has been happening to her almost every night now.
Getting up from her nest she walks to the edge of her home on a cliff, outside her cave on top of one of the highest mountains in Valoran. Here she can get a view of the land she seeks to protect, it is her duty as the phoenix to maintain balance in the region and with a sign she stares out into the lands. Anivia must find the reason for these nightmares such consistent dreams are usually a vision of what's to come. She sits perched on her mountaintop pondering her next move.