OOC: Closed to Arsoluna. Still one more spot open, if you're interested contact me via PM or post here
“You won’t last a single night here, skeleton! We’ll be collecting your bones in the morning, they might keep this fire burning a little while longer.”

The barbarian roared as he playfully tossed another branch unto the fire in front of him. The glowing embers consumed the wood in an instant, feeding on it and sending sparks into the night’s air, illuminating the darkness just a little bit. The oranges flames leapt even higher and Krugor could feel the heat of the fireplace touching his hands.

The man was probably right. A thin layer of ice had formed on his hands, making it very difficult to move his fingers, and the warmth of the fire did little to ease the pain. He tried his hardest to keep hold of his staff, which he needed as a guide to plow through the thick layer of snow that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. Without it he would be lost.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Torgar.” he replied, sounding a lot less confident than he wanted.

The frigid winds blew straight through Krugor’s vest and the grinding of his bones as he shivered made it hard to keep up the façade.

Why anyone would choose to live here, in the Rugged Wilds, was a mystery to him. The climate was incredibly harsh, with chilling winds and temperatures so low the ground was permanently frozen. The barbarians had to keep fires burning at all times, every night and every day, to prevent the frost from completing taking over the village.

The secluded village of Eissarg was no larger than thirty wooden huts scattered around, encircling a slightly larger hut, home to the town elder. Guard towers were spread out along the edges of the community. It was beyond his understanding how the Skavians managed to survive here.

Krugor rubbed his bony hands on his vest once more, trying to keep the ice from locking his joints together. He had travelled far to reach this small village on the outskirts of Northern Salvar, and he would be damned if it killed him on the first night. He came here on a mission and he would see it through.

“Don’t listen to them, son.” a stern voice said suddenly. “The Church watches over those that follow its teachings. It even takes care of the undead.”

Krugor felt the pressure of a formidable hand on his shoulder as the elderly man leaned on him to take a seat near the campfire. The three barbarians, including Torgar, growled at the appearance of the priest. The Church of the Ethereal Sway set up shop in the village a few days ago, as part of a large scale operation to convert a portion of the Skavian regions. They provided the local communities with food, improved housing and protection from storms and raiding bands of orcs, in an attempt to gain their trust and allegiance. Brodin Cruci, the high priest in charge of the works at Eissarg, had requested Krugor’s aid in supplying the town with warm meals.

Krugor smirked as he watched the barbarians feeling obviously uneasy near the priest. In these parts of Salvar the Church wasn’t held in high regard at all. In fact, most of the barbarians of Eissarg would rather freeze to death on the outskirts of Skavia than have anything to do with the Church. Unfortunately for them, their leader and town elder, Balan, had a different view on things. He had welcomed the Church, using their resources to fortify his own position within the area.

“I know, sir Cruci,” Krugor responded, “they’re just having trouble expressing their affection for me!”

He stared into the fiery dance of embers in front of him, trying to avoid eye contact with both the priest and the barbarians. The climate wasn’t the only thing hostile here, he realized. Torgar, right hand man of Balan, and his friends hated the undead with a passion.

“Good. I suggest you get some rest then, Krugor,” Brodin continued, “we’ll be receiving reinforcements in the morning and I expect you to welcome them with a warm meal.”