- Pronoun
- they/them
It is said that centuries ago, the Kingdom of Malantau once existed to the far north. Now, all that remains is a vast, mostly-unexplored region of ice. The once well-traveled roads leading from Tyrrier lay buried under a layer of permafrost. Freak blizzards have a way of sweeping in from nowhere, no matter how calm and clear the sky might appear one moment.
It's also said that those unlucky enough to get stranded in the frozen wastes often report glimpses of mist-blanketed castle towers and banners waving gently no matter the wind's speed or direction. But it's never a good idea to put too much stock into sights borne from hypothermia.
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The ship ride across the Tears was long. Very long. Looking at a map failed to convey the sheer, inexplicable scope of the lakes that went on for miles and miles in every direction, and sailing them felt like traversing a vast ocean with no hope of ever seeing land again. But the steamboat that Articuno had lent them kept up a good pace, and on the morning after the second night aboard, they did see land, in the form of a thin strip of white, clinging to the horizon.
The temperature had slowly crept lower and lower throughout the voyage, and now it was Definitely Cold. According to the ship's captain, it could've been a lot worse--the trip had been marked by clear skies and fair winds, which was a sign of good fortune to come ("Got the Aeons watchin' out for yer travels, eh?"). Though he was quick to add that it was just an expression.
Still, in Jade's opinion, it was little comfort that the weather was better than usual for this time of year, because it was still unreasonably cold, and it made her desperately long for Firestorm's tail-flame. Sure, everyone'd had time to prepare, they all had cloaks and scarves (and Jade was particularly grateful that she'd opted to wear moccasins). But as far as she was concerned, the sooner they finished the mission, the better.
They'd stopped in a old, abandoned fishing village to set up a base camp of sorts, where some of the Teardrop Station agents would keep watch over the Cipher admins. From there, the scouting party would head north, using dungeon orbs and other uncanny items to cover ground faster. There were supposed to be a bunch of dungeons scattered across the frozen wastes, so hopefully it wouldn't take too long to find one that would make a good Waypoint. Then they could warp back to Novelux or Frontier Town or any number of places that wasn't here, and try not to think about how they'd be returning soon enough for the raid on Terminal One.
Jade's moccasins crunched the snow underfoot as she squinted against the stark midday sun glaring off the frozen expanse. 'High noon' wasn't all that high— within an hour or two, the sun would sink back below the horizon.
"So, uh, Betel... which dungeons do you think would be easiest to aim for, anyway?" she wondered aloud.
It's also said that those unlucky enough to get stranded in the frozen wastes often report glimpses of mist-blanketed castle towers and banners waving gently no matter the wind's speed or direction. But it's never a good idea to put too much stock into sights borne from hypothermia.
<><><>
The ship ride across the Tears was long. Very long. Looking at a map failed to convey the sheer, inexplicable scope of the lakes that went on for miles and miles in every direction, and sailing them felt like traversing a vast ocean with no hope of ever seeing land again. But the steamboat that Articuno had lent them kept up a good pace, and on the morning after the second night aboard, they did see land, in the form of a thin strip of white, clinging to the horizon.
The temperature had slowly crept lower and lower throughout the voyage, and now it was Definitely Cold. According to the ship's captain, it could've been a lot worse--the trip had been marked by clear skies and fair winds, which was a sign of good fortune to come ("Got the Aeons watchin' out for yer travels, eh?"). Though he was quick to add that it was just an expression.
Still, in Jade's opinion, it was little comfort that the weather was better than usual for this time of year, because it was still unreasonably cold, and it made her desperately long for Firestorm's tail-flame. Sure, everyone'd had time to prepare, they all had cloaks and scarves (and Jade was particularly grateful that she'd opted to wear moccasins). But as far as she was concerned, the sooner they finished the mission, the better.
They'd stopped in a old, abandoned fishing village to set up a base camp of sorts, where some of the Teardrop Station agents would keep watch over the Cipher admins. From there, the scouting party would head north, using dungeon orbs and other uncanny items to cover ground faster. There were supposed to be a bunch of dungeons scattered across the frozen wastes, so hopefully it wouldn't take too long to find one that would make a good Waypoint. Then they could warp back to Novelux or Frontier Town or any number of places that wasn't here, and try not to think about how they'd be returning soon enough for the raid on Terminal One.
Jade's moccasins crunched the snow underfoot as she squinted against the stark midday sun glaring off the frozen expanse. 'High noon' wasn't all that high— within an hour or two, the sun would sink back below the horizon.
"So, uh, Betel... which dungeons do you think would be easiest to aim for, anyway?" she wondered aloud.