Forcas

His daughter helped him save enough treasure to go exploring in the southern Icefields. He's always wanted to go skiing, and is now a part of an explorer group, which consists of dragons from various clans around the sunbeam ruins. His alliance is to the Lightweaver, but spending so much of his time in the Sothern Icefields makes an impression. He's been traveling through several ice clans and they've welcomed him warmly. The stereotypes of their cold personalities is the strangest one he's heard so far. It's due to the cold that their personalities are even warmer. They have great caves that provdide warmth and comfort, and they all sleep nestled together when the nights are extra freezing. It's great! and feels like home.

His usual traveling destination for the past 6 months has been the Snowsquall Tundra. He never ventured closer to the crags, though he's always wished to go into the heart of the iceladen land.
Friends of his, born and adapted to the harsh climate, speak of those few great clans who live in The fortress of Ends. How the Warden himself greets them upon entering.
A fluffy wildclaw, small and frail, but absolutely covered in feathers, tell stories heard from his own time traveling.
"They're few and far inbetween. The clans in the fortress loose members each day to the harsh storms, and some recide forever in the ice, frozen dead. That is how the Warden keep his children." The group around the fire listen entranced.
Forcas is forever fascinated by their life. And both intrigued and frightened by the stories of the Icewarden. He wonders what secrets are to be discovered here, when the Warden's own children speculate about his whereabouts. The Lightweaver seems predictable in comparison.
"He's harsh like the weather, and cold like his land," the fluffy wildclaw continues.
"And definitely as unruly and unpredictable as the snowstorms and temperature changes."
Forcas stretches his wings, and warms them closer to the fire.
Hatchlings in the clan they're residing in are jumping about in the snow, laughing and burying themselves and each other.
"But his ways created something beautiful too," the fluffy wildclaw says smiling. They all share a comfortable silence, and the hatchlings continue enjoying the brighter weather.