Once this place used to hold the yin and yang scenery of Blossom Field. Now, there are miles of winding tundra. To the north, this tundra is cruel and dry, with wisping weaves of tall grasses. The ground is cracked and cold, and it hardly is ever moistened by dearly desired rainfall. To the south, the tundra becomes more prosperous - meadows of flowers and herbs grace the ground. Part of this connects near Elebeam Weargtreow - however it is an impassible field of poppy, which will put any wolf trying to cross it into a deep slumber, and eventually die.

Those looking to hunt here will find mice, snakes, and rabbits, along with pronghorns, bison, and javalinas.


of ice and fire

There is a beast in every man...
...mine is stirring...

Excuse me, sir. Don't you think it's rather hot to be here today?

So much for being alone.

Had he been in any other place, the echoes of his laughter would have rumbled back at him and warned the stranger of his dangerous psyche. But without walls or ceilings to resonate the sounds, she had been met with only that which her eyes saw – An eastern timber wolf, his pelt a mottled set of colors, facing away from her. She would not yet be able to see his eyes, dual in color, giving him an odd appearance whenever he directly looked upon you. She could not possibly see his deformity, for when Imhotep had neutered him, he had left Jorah’s scrotum intact, making him infertile in such a way that no one would other know, except for Jorah himself. It was a merciful punishment, but it made quite the statement – that Jorah’s genetics were no longer worthy of passing on to the next generation. There was no way to undo the process, and though Jorah had at one point wanted to have pups of his own, that was no longer an option, and Jorah was resigned to that fact. Was he upset about the situation? Yes, of course, as any sane varg would be, but he was glad at least that he was still alive and had been given a chance to redeem himself. His own future would be created upon the destruction of Kalgalath’s future, one way or another. But wasn’t that the way of life? Life leading to death, over and over again? It was the rule of the Putnar… only it was varied a bit.

And now? Jorah had risked exposure – in truth he had risked everything – by coming to this place and letting loose all of his emotions and frustrations in a single maniacal set of laughter. Surely he had thought that he was alone, but clearly, that wss not the truth of it. But she had addressed the weather, not his laughter, so perhaps she had not heard it – perhaps she had come upon the silence surrounding Jorah now and seen only a loner, someone who she could converse with. It was amusing, really, her words – she was nearly judging him and yet she herself was out in the bright sun as well. Jorah turned and for a moment he considered attacking her for no other reason than because it was not a direct order from Imhotep. All of Jorah’s life he had been taking orders from the King, his every decision riding on the desires of the King, set just so in order to secure a future after his retirement of praise and gifts and riches. Originally he saw himself with a family… but a set of 10 or so whores to be only his would suffice, would it not?

Perhaps not.

It was not the same as a family, as one to love, and Jorah had wanted love… underneath his spy and assassin skills, he was a hopeless romantic. But he had had love once, and all it had brought him was travesty and pain and strife. Perhaps she – perhaps Catlyn had been his one and only love. If that was truly the case… then he would have to find a way to be happy with the whores that Imhotep would give him. Good riddance – the sooner this mission was over, the better. Then he could drug himself into oblivion and fake his happiness until he believed it himself.

Jumbled thoughts swirled in his head and briefly, as he turned to face the ess. Jorah could not comprehend why on this, his last mission, his focus was having difficulty staying on task. Nonetheless, the trickster painted a smile on his face and turned toward her, relieved to find that she was not one of the Aurora Borealis wolves, but instead a true stranger. What harm could there be in talking to her, this stranger? She was of no consequence, and perhaps she would be diverting company while he worked on his plan. “If it is too hot, why then are you out here, lass? More than that, why ask questions of a stranger which you can answer yourself? If the reasoning is that you cannot tell heat from cold, then indeed you are unique and perhaps in trouble for that would be a dangerous trait to have. If you wish my opinion on the matter, I would wonder how much stock you put into the thoughts of those you do not know. But I will answer your question nonetheless – The sun is warm yes, but the wind is strong enough to air out my pelt. I brave the burn that may injure me in order to enjoy this, a beautiful day.” He paused, turning his head slightly to stare at her. “And you? Why are you traveling to this place alone, trusting that you will not fall after being struck by these strong rays?

...and should I ever slay you...
...your eyes shall be open

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