06-30-2016, 10:31 PM
THE EARTH IS ALIVE, AND MAN IS A PARASITE.
AND HEAVENLY BODIES MAKE US FIGHT.
The morning is uncomfortably frigid, yet it is an altogether familiar setting for those who linger behind the thick ice barrier that line the dreary terrain. An updraft of wind strikes, sweeping across the dull landscape, stirring the few bristling threads of greenery that struggle to rise from the permafrost below. All around, a sweeping layer of slush and filth remain - the very last remnants of a long and bitter winter. The sun shines from behind thickly lined clouds, which loom heavily across the land. Another quiet, dismal beginning, but it is all the same to him.
These lands have become a part of him - literally and figuratively. Ice threads through his veins, pumping alongside his blood, covering him in a thin sheen of frost along his scarred obsidian pelt. His muscles flex beneath the ice, which moves seamlessly with him as he lumbers along the too-still border. His darkened red eyes peer around, but this morning is mellow, and many are still nestled within the safety of their caves for warmth from the unforgiving gusts of wind that carry down from the very mountain peaks.
At last, something catches the King's eye - a figure lingering at the very edge of the barrier, peering in with uncertainly. He is lithe, slender and adolescent, but growing nonetheless. He is as stark as he is, contrasting sharply to the shimmering blocks of ice on either side of him. A low huff is emitted from his own wide nostrils as he breathes the sharp air heavily, moving effortlessly towards him, crown dipped to show a lack of aggression, though his towering figure and prying red eyes seek answers.
"You're an unfamiliar face. My name is Offspring - I am the King of these lands; is there anything I can assist you with?"
These lands have become a part of him - literally and figuratively. Ice threads through his veins, pumping alongside his blood, covering him in a thin sheen of frost along his scarred obsidian pelt. His muscles flex beneath the ice, which moves seamlessly with him as he lumbers along the too-still border. His darkened red eyes peer around, but this morning is mellow, and many are still nestled within the safety of their caves for warmth from the unforgiving gusts of wind that carry down from the very mountain peaks.
At last, something catches the King's eye - a figure lingering at the very edge of the barrier, peering in with uncertainly. He is lithe, slender and adolescent, but growing nonetheless. He is as stark as he is, contrasting sharply to the shimmering blocks of ice on either side of him. A low huff is emitted from his own wide nostrils as he breathes the sharp air heavily, moving effortlessly towards him, crown dipped to show a lack of aggression, though his towering figure and prying red eyes seek answers.
"You're an unfamiliar face. My name is Offspring - I am the King of these lands; is there anything I can assist you with?"
OFFSPRING
the ice king of the tundra