Hiacies

Hiacies The Loyal

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Ice Crystal Organics A perfectly formed ice crystal. Incredibly valuable, until it melts. 35 Winter Wolf Pelt Organics Dragons occasionally don these skins to get the drop on encroaching wolf packs. 40 Moonstone Minerals & Ores This radiant gemstone is known for its magical ability to aid in the biological morphing processes of some rare types of sprites and fairies. 45

Role: In the age of the Shade, Hiacies served as a general in the Icewarden's army of Wargs. After she was reanimated, centuries later, Hiacies found new purpose in guarding the Breach with a small pack of her kin's surviving descendants. Though she is not a part of the Frostguard, Hiacies works closely with them to keep the West wall of the Fortress protected. Personality and Relationships:

Ceren
While Hiacies loves her daughter dearly, she knows very little of Ceren. The circumstances of her hatching, as the forbidden child between Warg and Gaoler, forced Hiacies to remain distant for much of Ceren's early life. Now, with those ancient laws long since stripped away and many centuries of lost time between them, Hiacies is determined to find Ceren again and reclaim the family that she was once denied.

Fvuros
There was a time when Hiacies loved Fvuros. However, their relationship quickly fragmented after Ceren's hatching, when Fvuros insisted that Ceren should be raised among the Gaolers rather than the Warg, where her true nature would have been accepted. This created tension between them that finally snapped mere days before Hiacies' death, when Fvuros refused to let her see Ceren anymore.

After Hiacies took over leadership of the West Wall from Fvuros, their relationship has remained bitter.

Turel
Before Hiacies' demise, Turel was her closest friend. The two fought side-by-side against the Shade for years, which formed a bond that stayed strong even through the centuries they were separated.

When Hiacies freed Turel from the Fortress' prisons, their friendship strengthened and deepened into a place close to romance. However, the trust between them would be damaged soon after, when Turel helped to free the Cult of Naeir from the Fortress. Since Turel made amends and turned against the cult, their trust has slowly been rebuilding. They have started a partnership, but it is tentative, albeit rapidly advancing in emotional depth

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Daughter

Closest Allies

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History:

Centuries ago, when the Shade still terrorised Sornieth and the modern Tundra was little more than a concept, Hiacies served as a general in the Icewarden's army of Wargs. It was outside of the Fortress of Ends, on the frozen Front that she fell in a final stand against the corrupted forces of the Shade, alongside the rest of her kin.

Under the light of the rare Blue Moon, Hiacies was given life again as a Golem. Awoken to a modern, changed world, she wandered Sornieth in search of a cause to rally to. Through her journey, she found ancestors of her species, who returned to the Froslands with her upon the return of the Gaolers to search for her daughter.

Upon her arrival in the Froslands, Hiacies joined with the Frostguard as they invaded the Fortress of Ends' west wall to reclaim a corrupted Wild Lord. During this invasion, Hiacies challenged Fvuros for leadership of the Western gaolers, and won. Shortly afterwards she freed several ancient wargs, Turel among them, that Fvuros had held captive in the prison. However, she was unable to find her daughter, who had vanished mere days before.

Since, Hiacies has kept to her new duties as the West Warden of the Fortress. However, she has not given up hope of finding Ceren.

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Hobbies:

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Cold.

Her final memory was of the cold. A sensation nearly foreign to her skin in the centuries it had laid hidden beneath her thick pelt. All she could remember was the blistering, burning cold.

Freezing.

The pain had burrowed into her very core, freezing her limbs while they still carried life. The red snow around her had turned white in moments beneath the relentless blizzard, filling her final recalled moments with blinding white, smothered silence and the cold.

Ice.

Her fur crackled and groaned as tentatively, she pushed, and found her legs able to move, if barely under the heavy tomb of snow that pinned her down. Her jaw creaked and cracked with frozen drool, and her eyes refused to open. Yet, beneath her frost-matted pelt, her skin did not shiver, nor did her bones cry from the stiff cool that had sunk its claws deep into their marrow.

Slowly, she pulled a paw at the snow; it was thick, compacted, almost solid ice.

Ancient.

It held easily as she clawed the loose scrapes into her moulded cavern, as did the next gouge, and the next. Gradually, the balance shifted, pushing her ice-wrapped body further into the tunnel with each offering of ice to take her place. Finally, her eyes opened, only to meet endless, pale black.
The narrow tunnel was deathly silent and still, save for the rhythmic scrape of her frosted claws against its walls. She could only pray that she was digging upwards.

It was endless. Clawful after clawful of packed permafrost came away, and sealed the tunnel behind her, but light remained absent. The quiet was maddening.

Perhaps this is my punishment. The thought pounced upon her red-stained shoulders. Her back felt unusually solid. But what for? She had remained loyal all of her life, fallen in service to her deity, her creator. Why should she be punished? Had her sisters and brothers suffered the same fate?

The snow was growing looser. Or perhaps it was only her imagination… The dark was growing brighter. Bluer.

Strength surged her exhausted limbs, driving her forwards in a frenzy. Twice, she slipped as the snow grew fluffy and the world turned blue-white, crumbling her tunnel inward to briefly hold her.
When the breeze touched her fur, she surged upwards without hesitation.

The tundra stretched outwards for miles, beyond the horizon, cast in the bright glow of the blue moon that hung above her, slowly drifting its way towards slumber. Hiacies hauled herself from her hole to face untouched plains, blank compared to her last recollection of fallen friends, a raging blizzard and blood-spattered banners. The scent of her kin, her pack, her family, was gone, replaced by the faded stink of countless unknowns.

Step by wavering step, she strode over the emptied battlefield, towards the looming shadow of home; the Fortress stood as her only familiar landmark, its path dotted by unfamiliar, broken trees with thick, jaded trunks.

The walls were closer than she remembered, thickened outwards by centuries-worth of layered Nevermelt Ice – a slow patching process she had dutifully assisted in many enough times to know that such progress could not be achieved within a mortal lifetime. Her pale image shimmered in the strong, smooth walls, quickening her step with each unfamiliar feature that was revealed to her until her paws were pressed against the comforting, cool walls, her eyes locked onto the withered, magic-marred dragon that stared back at her.

Icewarden what has become of me?

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A single candle flickered defiantly against the icy wind. The flame clung to its wick, and slowly gnawed down into the frozen wax in search of meagre shelter from its failing battle with the endlessly raging air.

Hiacies watched the little candle fight the inescapable cold of the reaching plains, dotting the bitter shadow of the Fortress with a single, dying star. Her frozen coat crackled as an instinctive shiver clawed down her spine, dragging with it hundreds of memories of cold, blizzard-battered nights, warmed by an endless sea of flames and the howls of yet more of her pack returning home to light their own tiny pyres and make merry.

The cold had been helpless to effect her since she had woken up, yet, impossibly, as she stood by her candle, alone, she felt it sear into her core with a blade sharper than the one that had forced her to sleep.

A powerful gust turned Hiacies' eyes down to her fading candle, or rather, to the blackened wick where it had once danced. A sigh left her, though she was lost to say whether it was born of relief or disappointment. The final candle was out, and the sun was still drifting down the sky.

"Until next year, sisters." She turned and struck out into the tundra, fearless of the blizzard growing in the wind. Her vows of loyalty would not wait for her to grieve.

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(Oof, but should I give her a helmet???)