Kaelith's growl rumbled through the pre-dawn stillness, pulling Aelar Frostveil from a restless sleep inside the Icefang guest hut. He sat up, the furs sliding off his dark blue frostweave armor, his silver-white ponytail tangled from the night. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the Frostwolf, whose silver-streaked fur bristled, glacial eyes fixed on the hut's entrance. The storm had passed, but the air felt charged, heavy with something more than frost. The Order was coming—Ragna's warning echoed in his mind.
Aelar grabbed his sword and stepped outside, Kaelith at his heels. The village lay quiet, huts shadowed against the glacier, but the horizon flickered with distant torchlight. He muttered, "They're here," and headed for the firepit where the others had slept.
Elara stumbled out of her hut, staff in hand, her pale blue tunic rumpled. "Aelar? What's—"
"Order," he cut in, voice low. "Wake Torin and Gorrim. Now."
She nodded, darting off as Aelar scanned the perimeter. Torin emerged moments later, his Frost Boar, Gruk, snorting beside him, icy spines rattling. "How many?" Torin asked, spear ready.
"Too many to count yet," Aelar said. "Torches stretch wide—fifty at least, maybe more."
Gorrim joined them, axe in hand, Varg the Frost Hound growling at his side. "Bastards didn't waste time," he said, spitting into the snow. "My warriors are up—your plan, Frostborn?"
Aelar pointed to the huts. "We don't bottleneck this time—they'll expect it. Spread out, use the village as cover. Hit and fade—Kaelith, Varg, and Gruk strike from the shadows. Wear them down before they reach the center."
Elara frowned. "Risky. If they push hard, we'll be scattered."
"Trust me," Aelar said, meeting her gaze. "We've got the beasts—they won't see us coming."
Torin grunted. "Gruk likes chaos. I'm in."
Gorrim smirked. "Varg'll rip 'em apart. Let's move."
The Order Strikes
The Order's force crested the rise—sixty strong, humans and rogue Ice Elves in dark cloaks, veiled sigils glinting. Leading them was a hulking figure in spiked armor, a two-handed flail swinging in his grip, his face obscured by a hooded helm. Torches flared as they marched, their boots crunching snow in a steady rhythm.
"Sylvara, analyze the leader," Aelar thought, crouching behind a hut.
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Target: Order Captain (Unnamed)
Race: Human
Ascension Tier: Grandmaster (Level 3)
Stats:
Strength: 60
Agility: 38
Intelligence: 22
Mana: 20
Skills: Flail Storm (Level 3): Rapid, wide-area flail strikes. Iron Skin (Level 2): Reduces physical damage.
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"Spread out!" Aelar hissed to the group. "Kaelith, with me. Elara, cover the east huts. Torin, west with Gruk. Gorrim, Varg—north. Go!"
The squad dispersed, beasts slinking into the shadows. Aelar and Kaelith darted between huts, snow muffling their steps. The Order reached the village edge, the captain barking, "Burn it down!" Arrows flew, tipped with fire, igniting a hut's roof—flames licked upward, smoke curling into the sky.
Aelar signaled Kaelith with a whistle. The wolf lunged from an alley, Blizzard Charge kicking up a snowstorm as he barreled into three humans, jaws snapping—one screamed, blood spraying as Kaelith's teeth tore his arm. Aelar followed, Frost Shroud cloaking him in mist. He swung low, sword slicing a rogue Ice Elf's legs—the man fell, clutching stumps, as Aelar vanished back into the shadows.
From the west, Gruk charged, Torin shouting, "Go, you brute!" The Frost Boar slammed into a cluster of five, spines impaling two, their bodies crumpling as Torin's spear pierced a third. The captain roared, flail whipping in a Flail Storm—chains lashed out, smashing a hut wall, debris flying. Torin ducked, Gruk squealing as a chain grazed his flank, frost cracking his hide.
Elara's voice rang from the east. "Hold!" A frost barrier surged up, blocking a volley of arrows, ice shimmering as they shattered against it. She thrust her staff, frost patterns darting out—two humans froze mid-step, their skin blue, collapsing in brittle heaps.
Gorrim and Varg struck from the north, the chieftain's axe cleaving a rogue Elf's shoulder, blood arcing, while Varg's jaws clamped a human's leg, dragging him down with a snarl. "Keep moving!" Gorrim yelled, dodging a spear thrust, his axe swinging back to crush the attacker's skull.
The captain advanced, flail spinning, Iron Skin gleaming as arrows bounced off him. "Frostborn!" he bellowed. "Face me, coward!"
Aelar emerged from the mist, Kaelith at his side. "Here," he said, voice cold, and snapped Glacial Chains—not to bind, but to harry. Ten tendrils lashed out like whips, striking the captain's arms, legs, chest—each hit sparked against his armor, staggering him. Kaelith circled, Ice Armor coating his fur, then lunged, jaws aiming for the captain's thigh—teeth met steel, scraping, but the distraction held.
The captain swung his flail, chains whipping toward Aelar. He rolled, snow spraying, the weapon grazing his shoulder—pain flared, armor denting, but he sprang up, sword slashing upward. The blade caught the captain's wrist, cutting through leather, blood welling as the flail faltered. "Now!" Aelar shouted.
Torin charged in, Gruk ramming the captain's side, knocking him off balance. Gorrim joined, axe hacking at the man's knee—metal buckled, bone cracked. Elara's frost pattern hit, ice creeping up the captain's arm, slowing his swing. Aelar darted behind, chains wrapping the flail mid-spin, yanking it free—it clattered to the snow. Kaelith leaped, jaws closing on the captain's throat—blood gushed, the man gurgling as he fell, lifeless.
The Order's remnants faltered, twenty still standing. Aelar raised his sword. "Finish them!" Guards and Icefangs surged, beasts tearing into the fray—Varg ripped a throat, Gruk trampled two, Kaelith chased a fleeing rogue, dragging him down. Arrows flew from both sides, screams fading as the last enemy crumpled, snow stained red and black.
Aelar panted, wiping blood from his blade, shoulder throbbing. "Sylvara, update."
______________________________________
Host: Aelar Frostveil
Race: Ice Elf (Royal Bloodline)
Ascension Tier: Grandmaster (Level 4)
Stats:
Strength: 78
Agility: 88
Intelligence: 65
Mana: 125
Skills:Frostborn Legacy (Innate, Level 6): Godlike ice affinity, cold immunity, unparalleled skill growth. Glacial Chains (Level 10): Dozens of enchanted chains, unmatched precision and power. Frost Bite (Level 2): Moderate cold damage bite (mana cost: 5). Frost Shroud (Level 6): 35-second chilling mist, damages and slows heavily (mana cost: 5). Mana Manipulation (Level 9): Absolute mana control. Ice Crafting (Level 7): Masterful ice constructs. Swordsmanship (Level 9): Near-peerless sword mastery. Beast Taming (Level 5): Command beasts with supreme authority.
Companion: Frostwolf (Elder) Name: Kaelith
Stats: Strength 70, Agility 60, Intelligence 25, Mana 50
Skills: Frost Howl (Level 6), Blizzard Charge (Level 6), Ice Armor (Level 5)
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The village smoldered, a third of the huts charred or broken. Aelar leaned on his sword, catching his breath as Elara rushed over. "You're hurt," she said, hands glowing with frost, pressing his shoulder.
"Worth it," he grunted, wincing as the cold eased the pain. "We held."
Torin limped up, Gruk snuffling beside him. "Bloody mess, but we did it. Gruk's tougher than that bastard's armor."
Gorrim wiped his axe, Varg licking blood from his muzzle. "Lost three of mine," he said, voice grim. "But you fought like kin, Frostborn. Alliance is iron now."
Aelar nodded. "Good. We'll need it. They're not done."
Elara pointed to the captain's body. "Look—another letter." She retrieved it, reading aloud: "'Stir the mana, wake the deep.' What's that mean?"
Torin frowned. "That storm yesterday—beasts riled up. They're doing something."
Aelar's eyes narrowed. "Magic. They're waking stronger beasts—or worse."
Gorrim spat. "Great. More trouble."
"We'll figure it out," Aelar said. "Rest first, then we scout."
Shadows Deepen
That night, they sat by a rebuilt fire, beasts resting nearby. Elara handed Aelar a cup of broth. "You pushed hard today," she said softly. "Kaelith too."
"He's a warrior," Aelar replied, sipping. "Like us."
Torin tossed Gruk a bone. "That captain knew you. They're targeting you, Frostborn."
"Let 'em," Aelar said. "Makes it personal."
Gorrim chuckled. "Mad lad. Varg likes you—means I do too."
Aelar met their gazes. "We're stronger together. Whatever they're waking, we'll face it."
The fire crackled, shadows dancing as the tundra whispered threats yet to come.