Icewind Dale Roleplay
You stumble through deep drifts of snow, the wind mocking the heavy fur cloak that you hold tight lest it be swept away. The snowstorm swept down with all the fury of the north behind it and you were not prepared for the sudden change. An hour past the skies were clear and you were thinking of shedding your cloak under the suns rays, the climate seems to be somewhat disturbed, the weather should not change so suddenly even here on the borders of the Dale.
Ahead lies Kuldahar, the Druid enclave, your destination in these harsh mountains that are said to form the spine of the world. A part of you worries that you shall never reach the Great Oak however, or the settlement that nestles among its titanic roots, so fierce is the intensity of the storm that besets you.
In the peaks above you can hear the fierce cries of the Frost Giants echoing, they hurl boulders at each other for sport and mock the heavens, laughing when one of their numbers is stuck by lightning. True sons of the mountains and the storm, their merrymaking does not improve your mood, and their thrown rocks have come too close one too many times.
What do you do, comment and/or vote?
View attachment 2699
You stumble through deep drifts of snow, the wind mocking the heavy fur cloak that you hold tight lest it be swept away. The snowstorm swept down with all the fury of the north behind it and you were not prepared for the sudden change. An hour past the skies were clear and you were thinking of shedding your cloak under the suns rays, the climate seems to be somewhat disturbed, the weather should not change so suddenly even here on the borders of the Dale.
Ahead lies Kuldahar, the Druid enclave, your destination in these harsh mountains that are said to form the spine of the world. A part of you worries that you shall never reach the Great Oak however, or the settlement that nestles among its titanic roots, so fierce is the intensity of the storm that besets you.
In the peaks above you can hear the fierce cries of the Frost Giants echoing, they hurl boulders at each other for sport and mock the heavens, laughing when one of their numbers is stuck by lightning. True sons of the mountains and the storm, their merrymaking does not improve your mood, and their thrown rocks have come too close one too many times.
What do you do, comment and/or vote?
View attachment 2699
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