by Garry Vakarian
After five hours of a long walk in the tundra, Sasha arrived at the feet of Mjolnir’s pass. So far, the trip was uneventful and only a pair of mudcrabs had crossed her path, quickly dispatched by her trusty bow. Forged by the hand of master Hafingaar with a piece orcwood she found during the exploration of an old druidic tomb, her bow was her only companion in this desolated place. The greenish glow from the orcwood reminded her of the time she spent with Torvald at Orisinium, the Orc’s outpost for Frostguard.
Mjolnir’s pass was one of many passages to escape Frostguard’s northern territories but since it was nowhere near any settlements, no one bothered to cross it aside from a few bandits and curious adventurers. Sasha was one of the latter, like many Katjitts before her. The cat-like species was renowned around the land for their nomadic spirit and Sasha was no exception. She chose this path to avoid the Empire’s tolls and its xenophobic soldiers.
After a quick look behind her, she started the long climb. It wasn’t as difficult as she thought, the road still had pavement and the old stairs seemed to withstand the passing of time. In around an hour or two, she had reached the top without seeing anybody or even anything. The silence was complete, save for the hissing of the wind. She stopped, watching the horizon in front of her when a lonely snowflake landed on her nose. She looked up and was greeted by a peculiar view : a single small white cloud surrounded by a sea of grey ones, usually only seen in Fallsand in the southern hemisphere. There was no snow on the ground and only the small white cloud was snowing, one snowflake at a time. “That’s weird” she said to herself. “Maybe Pelvic the sorcerer has a shrine around here and maybe some treasures” she mumbled while more snowflakes started to land on her head and shoulders…