Aluna's Clan

The Icebound is a swirling maelstrom of politics, magic, and anger. Those who enter, beware, for the chance is high that you will never leave.

Settled on the tip of the tower Shrrygn, as well as its neighboring sister The Shir, and the walls in between, of The Fortress of Ends, The Icebound is a fractured clan held together by a mixture of fear and blood. The clan was once a peaceful Wind colony, but after many generations, they fell to wandering, just like their sire, the Windsinger. Eventually, they were led by their new queen Ghiaccia to these icy lands, where they settled. Their founders, Queen Makina and King Tiger, found them there when they returned from serving the Windsinger, and were horrifed. A long, drawn out, cold war resulted, with the entire clan divided between the Allies of the Wind, and those who wished to Remain in the Cold. Finally, the discovery of the Obelisks shocked the entire clan, and Hoarfrost rose to power. She conquered the clan, and reunited the splintered halves. Ghiaccia fled the clan, and though Makina tried to reclaim her old power, Hoarfrost would not let her. After lengthy debate, Makina stepped down in favor of her oldest remaining child, Makin, and went into hibernation with her mate. Makin, in turn, was unwilling to take the power for her own, and gave it to her eldest daughter, Faethe. Hoarfrost, who was in agreement with this exchange, gave her son Shadowfrost to be Faethe's mate, and so a new era was born for the clan.
Dark figures stalk these caverns, Gaolers guard the edgelands, and the Mirror pack hunt down all who threaten The Icebound's borders.

If you are lucky, brave Traveler, you will be allowed to stay in the outer caves, where those who are unaccustomed to the cold can survive. Or perhaps you will fall in love with the beautiful princess Rose, or one of the fierce warriors, Hoarfrost's kin, who will care for you during your stay. But all must promise to eventually leave, and to never breathe a word of what they have seen to any.

If you break your word, then alas, there is no hope, for Tumeric will be summoned to lose you in the icy caves of The Fortress, and you will roam the freezing halls with no chance of escape.



The Call Of The Wild - Poem by Robert William Service

Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on,
Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore,
Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon,
Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?
Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it,
Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost?
Have you strung your soul to silence? Then for God's sake go and do it;
Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost.

Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sagebrush desolation,
The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze?
Have you whistled bits of rag-time at the end of all creation,
And learned to know the desert's little ways?
Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o'er the ranges,
Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through?
Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes?
Then listen to the Wild -- it's calling you.

Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver?
(Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies.)
Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river,
Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize?
Have you marked the map's void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races,
Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew?
And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses?
Then hearken to the Wild -- it's wanting you.

Have you suffered, starved and triumphed, groveled down, yet grasped at glory,
Grown bigger in the bigness of the whole?
"Done things" just for the doing, letting babblers tell the story,
Seeing through the nice veneer the naked soul?
Have you seen God in His splendors, heard the text that nature renders?
(You'll never hear it in the family pew.)
The simple things, the true things, the silent men who do things --
Then listen to the Wild -- it's calling you.

They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching,
They have soaked you in convention through and through;
They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching --
But can't you hear the Wild? -- it's calling you.
Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling . . . let us go.