The frozen plains stretched out far before him, filling the air with a cold bitter wind that blasted the forsaken landscape. It was a harsh place where only the strong, the brave, or the mad could survive. The latter was by far more common, and those who weren't already when they wandered out onto it, would often become mad from the endless loneliness and vast tracts of nothingness that made up the plains. The vast majority of people who found themselves out on the plains however, would never return.
Dune'ral stood atop a high ridge of ice, his legs were strong and muscled, well defined even through his tough leathery hide. His skin reflected a cold steel blue, adapted to his icy home environment. He could've passed for being leanly built, but there was a deceptive insulating layer beneath his skin, protecting him from both the cold, and often from damage as well. His neck was long and led to his elongated head that grew thick spine like hair, that despite it's coarseness formed a soft mane about his head and down his neck. His sharp eyes scanned across the bleak plains, then down at his own ridge that flowed into the distance to either side.
The ridge snaked in elaborate curves across the landscape, shadowing the vicious and unpredictable winds that had formed it. The dangerous and hostile environment of the plains had a strange, yet sleek beauty to it, Dune'ral thought, it was a very deceptive beauty, but the danger of death always made things, including an entire landscape, all the more beautiful. A beauty, he mused, that the materialistic city snobs back home would never be able to understand.
With a single graceful spring, he leapt from the top of the ridge, and skipped from foothold to foothold down the steep slope below. The cold air blew past him as he soared downwards, and it filled his lungs with a stinging pain that made him feel truly alive. gradually the bottom of the gulley that followed the ridge, became visible through the icy mists. He slowed his descent and was more hesitant before each bound, approaching the last few outcrops of ice and now rock, he came to a stop about 20 feet from the base of the gorge.
The remaining slope was gentle, and provided no cover up to the ridgeside and likely caves beyond. The blizzards that constantly blew across the plains were enough to hide him from sight and smell of many of the creatures that haunted this harsh landscape, but now he had to approach their most likely den, and running straight in would, without doubt, result in being mauled and torn to shreds before he even saw it coming.
Above him the light had faded, the mixture of bright colours of the sun beginning to set, reflected off ice crystals in the air, and made a panoply of red hued rainbows that swirled in the ever racing wind. Much longer and the darkness would thwart his senses, and the worse creatures of this hell, would come out to hunt. This last moment was however what he had been waiting for, the reflections of light confused every image, and would effectively blind both light and dark dwelling creatures of this place. Slipping from his ledge, he crept down the slope as silently as he could.
The furs pinned around his shoulders pulled heavy with ice, and they lay to the snow covered ground, leaving an easily discernible trail behind him. This however did not concern him, as the snow would cover the trail in seconds, but the fur masked his figure, and the practical warmth it gave was not worth leaving behind, even in favour of stealth.
Crouching to all-fours, Dune'ral reached behind the furs to one of many slung belts and harnesses for equipment of all sorts and uses. He retrieved a cylinder about a foot long, his preferred weapon, it was made of a special steel alloy that while coloured steel grey, reflected a green shimmer across it's surface. An advanced alloy recently developed by his people, it conducted virtually no heat or energy, useful in more than it's intended ways since his hands were not now frozen to the weapon, as they would have been were it made of regular steel. The cylinder had a bar that extended left and right beside the top, and a similar but lobed arrangement on the bottom for balance when activated.
Dune'ral hefted the weapon, a dama'blade, named after his clan the Dama'can. Slowly he crept closer keeping low, he made his way closer to the caves, his dama'blade gripped tightly behind the cloak, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
So far not a sign of life came from the cave entrance ahead. Closer, and yet closer, now he smelled something on the wind, a sharp tang. It was the smell of a corpse, unable to decompose fully in the freezing cold. He sniffed the air again, keeping low while discerning his options. It was however no use, the wind blew in too many changing directions, he could not tell from where the scent came.
Regardless he could only guess that these caves were home to a pack of great-wolves, the huge beasts hunted the frozen plains with a terrifying intelligence. Such wolves had been known to siege the smaller underground villages in which the folk of these plains fought out a harsh existence.
A flicker of shadow caught his eye through the flashing reflections that still played illusions in the air. Was it a wolf? Was it already behind him now, about to sink it's fangs into his back? His spine shivered, but he did not turn around to check. If it was behind him he was already dead, and turning around would only give his position away if it wasn't.
He waited a little longer, watching the shadow as it reappeared here and there, tracking it. Whatever it was it was barely 10 feet away, probably less.
He needed to get into the cave system beyond, and this creature, dangerous as it most likely was, was in the way. He didn't fancy his chances sneaking past it, then finding himself pinned against a cave wall when it returned to it's lair.
With a softly sprung leap he rose from his crouching spot, brought his dama'blade out in front, and ran towards the shadow's seeming position. Was it a great wolf? He hoped it was not. He hoped there were no more hiding nearby. He hoped it was not mere bait for him. As he drew closer, and saw it's figure better it was clearly no wolf. This blessing however was a sour one indeed, as he realised it was much larger than the great wolves that nearly dwarfed his own Dama'can frame.
The beast was huge, twice again his height merely to it's shoulder. It sat on four legs, a long neck and tail extended from a bulky, and no doubt muscled frame. It's head was an array of horns extending from it's scaley skin. Fearsome, berserk eyes widened and glared at him with a clear intent.
Great iron-like muscles rippled under it's armoured skin, and like a blurred bolt of lightening it's entire body rose from the ground and whipped around, bringing it's titanic claws to bear on him. He quickly hit the activation switch on the side of the dama'blade's hilt, only just in time by his own impressive reflexes.
From the hilt, sprung 2 short prongs that glowed and arked lightening, a long metallic blade was drawn out by this strange lightening. The blade was materialised in a fraction of a second, and immediately met the oncoming claws with a well sharpened edge of it's mystery metal. The blade dug deep into the claw, but the force was not stopped. Dune'ral rolled his shoulder with the blow, and felt the impact like a mountainous hammer of some god swung against his side. He flew and spun like a ragdoll into a bank of snow.
Wheezing from the impact, he pulled himself to his feet, examining the dama'blade, he was thankful he had been successful at the last moment, twisting the blade from the claw so it would not break off or get trapped.
The shivering and immobilizing fear inside him subsided as he steeled himself, and thought out his next move. It was an Ice dragon, the rarest and possibly the single most dangerous creature known on the planet. It turned it's head away from him, odd he thought, it should be trying to tear and rend him apart once more. It looked out into the twirling colours of light as they died away. Then turned back again just too late as a great wolf leapt out from behind it. The wolf bit into the dragon's shoulder, and tore a chunk from it's flesh. Writhing, the dragon whipped furiously, bucking like a gorgon bull.
The great wolf was thrown from it's back, just as a second wolf, likely the one the dragon had spotted first, leapt out of the mist of rainbows and aimed for the dragon's neck.
The dragon reared, and blew an icy roar, bearing it's immense fangs, and raising it's spined neck. Dune'ral shook himself from his stunned stupor. The Immense battle before him was truly like nothing he had ever seen. But he was pretty sure, whoever won, he would be the spoils of this conflict.