Clash in the Boreal

As a golden emblem, the sun lay high in the sapphire sky. Vapors of steam rose from the mounds of snow about, while whispering hisses emerged from the crackling ivory ground. If any man dared to stare long enough, he would have gone blind, for the sun glistened upon the snowy earth quite brightly. Yet within the frozen, melting snow, there ran a red river.

On the frozen tundra lay a stretch of motionless men covered in blood stained armor. The giants from the north, with their fair blonde hair, had battled against the men of King Abhor, whose kingdom lied far to the east.

Two forms could still be seen moving amongst

the slain, and one was a giant. The giant stood tall with his firmly carved arms, sculptured like legs, and bulky, mead-full belly. His leather armor had been beaten and torn from the rigid battle, his golden locks intertwined with blood of his brethren and enemies, but his adversary still stood.

The last of the king's men from the east gazed at the giant, but he did not fear the him. Much shorter than the giant, the king's man slunk about his enemy, while keeping watch at the giant's every move. With his raven black hair tied back, his dark eyes stood out as two opal gems,