The Fate of the Freljord

by Entrox Licher

The Freljord is being overtaken by war, but a greater threat looms on the horizon. What will happen to the FReljord? Will it be united and peace established? Will war rage over it eternally? Will it be destroyed, along with the rest of Valoran, under the tyranny of the Frost Watchers? (Changed rating, it is K , definitely not M, sorry bout that)

2. The Guardian's Horn

Greyor floated on the edge of the bridge, staring down to the depths of the Howling Abyss. He saw something stir.

"Lyte! Get over here!" he shouted out to his living, corporeal companion. The hermit arrived, bickering with his robot, Geeves.

"Tell me Lyte, what do you see?" the Viking ghost asked. Lyte peered over the edge, and stared down the gaping hole until he too saw the movement. "Well you old clump of mist, I'd say there is something down there. You know that better than I. You still haven't told me what this blasted place even is."

"And why would an veteran old professor such as yourself even want to know about one big hole in the middle of this barren wasteland? What interest does it have to you?"

"The interest I have is why, for example, a ghost of one of the old Iceborn dwells here constantly watching the depths, or why the League of Legends decided to make this place one of their Fields of Justice. Do not belittle me Greyor. You know very well why I am interested. I only wish you would give me some answers."

Greyor shook his head solemnly. "The fewer people know of this place's terrible purpose the better. Avarosa herself handed me the duty to guard this place. I assume you know who she is professor?" Lyte nodded.

Nodding in turn, Greyor continued. "Well she gave me this eternal task, and I gave my life knowing full well that I would be here for the rest of time. I will leave it up to your imagination what task merits such dedication."

Frowning, Lyte pressured the ghost. "No. Tell me, please! I cannot simply stand over this place idly without knowing what my feet are touching. You—" A distant echoing roar from the abyss interrupted him.

Eyes widening Greyor and Lyte both stared into the abyss and they both saw the movement of a sleeping being beginning to rouse.

Lyte stood there openmouthed, but Greyor went back to his small shopkeeping area and he reached out to the frozen corpse that lay behind it. He gently coaxed out an item that was clenched in the hand of the corpse: a curved horn.

Greyor took the horn into his ghostly hand and cleaned out the ice that had gathered on it. He gripped it tightly, anticipating the time he would have to blow it with all his might.