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The temperature drops and the air about you becomes fridgid. After trapsing along some more, snow begins to fall. The wind picks up and soon you are in the midst of a raging blizzard. But as soon as you walked into it, you are out again. All is quite, yet snowflakes freefall lightly from the sky. Over in the distance, you see movement. Equines, like yourself. Among them an icy warrior. He lets loose a nicker for you to come closer to the herd, so you do. He ingresses towards you and begins to speak in a melodious, yet icy tone.
"Welcome, I am White Lines. Tyrant of this hearth. I know the path you have taken to get here, you can relax now."
He leaves you to make yourself at home.
Tyrant Of These Lands: White Lines
Members Of The Tribe:
Those Who Carry His Blood:
Czaress To Rule: None As Of Yet
Beta Femmora: None As Of Yet
Prophacy
shaddix
Twisted Rose
None