[ IP ] Boreal .

The man stood on the prow of the boat, as the northern winds whipped against his face. The old boatman shivered, he had ferried travelers, merchants and adventures alike across this lake for years now, but he had never seen one quite like this before. The man was tall and broad of shoulder, made larger by the myriad of furs wrapped about his body to stave off the chills of the winter winds. His hair was a long and unkempt snarl of brown that looked at home among the thick pelts that surrounded his neck. Such features were not strange to the boatman though. You see plenty of large hairy men in the northern provinces as the north did not cater well to any other type. No, what was strange to the boatman was the manner of the man before him. 
 
 The boatman had done his job for so long the cold was naught but a nuisance to him on most days. The ever blowing wind that cuts straight to the bone of most men was a friend of his now. Most storms he could weather with a smile on his face and a song upon his cracked lips, but this night was different. Tonight was a chill so bitter that it seemed as though the God of Winter was wrapping the world in his embrace, and the closer they came to the frosty palace before him the colder it seemed to get. Yet the man before him never once shivered, never once broke his gaze from the palace ahead. If the boatman had n't seen the slight rise and fall of his breathing, he would've assumed to man to be dead and frozen stiff. *He must have a soul like a furnace to keep him warm in this chill, * the boatman mused as he steadily stroked the icy black water, bringing them ever closer to the town of Farrowind, and the palace of it's king. 
 
 The man had heard stories of this town, heard many a tale of the tyrant who came to this land long ago to subjugate its people. The king was fabled to wield the power of winter itself, and could conjure frost and ice at a whim. Some stories said he was a demon of ice in human form, still others said that the ruler of Farrowind was the God of Winter himself, come to walk the earth and fulfill his promise of the winter without end. The man however, knew better. *It has to be him* the man thought to himself. After countless dead ends and petty mages, this had to be the real thing. The man broke his gaze to look down at his palm. A small flame flickered to life above his hand, dancing hypnotically in the wind. He curled his hand into a fist snuffing the flame and looked back towards the palace. *I'm coming for you brother, and this time you will not deserve my mercy. *
