Once a peppy and smart young lad…the King of Frost sits alone in his palace of frozen memories, existing in a haze while watching the never ending storm he accidentally created so long ago…sentencing all life on earth to ice….
Once upon a time there was a boy named ___. A determined and adventurous lad who’d never let fate dictate his life-!
Born in the grand continent of…somewhere…he lived with his family in never ending poverty, perpetuated by the greedy King who was insatiable with his lust for riches and power, issuing more and more taxes on his starving kingdom in order to starve every last ounce of value it had before planning to disappear into the night.
This desperation caused by the royalty would eventually drive him to length’s he’d never imagined he’s stoop to, adventuring through the legendary cursed forest of T’ahla, in search of ancient treasures imbued with long lost arcane energy that were rumored to be protected and hidden within…only to find that this one mistake would end up destroying everything.
Once he began venturing into the cursed woods becoming more lost in the weaving greenery, he would eventually come upon a strangely shaped walking staff, seemingly made from a long branch with its end shaped into a long hook. He would have likely dismissed it were it not for the intricate details of countless miniature symbols carved into the ancient and powerful relic.
Feeling an icy chill shoot through his spine as he got a hold on the object, now sure of its magic he would quickly begin running back for the exit, satisfied with his find for the day as something to sell to the highest bidder. But as he made his way out of the forest, that chill never went away as he escaped the massive grove of trees.
But as he sped his way down the dirt path towards his small town, his vision would become blurred like a fogged glass, steadily forgetting why he was walking as his mind seemed to drift upwards as he thought about nothing. This only for a moment however as he seemed to realize that the fog in his eyes was not merely bleary vision, but something far more mystical that had moved in.
??? Years Later.
Grieving the world he can’t remember despite being trapped in for so many countless years, he couldn’t help but despise his staff as the source of his power and Sudo-Immortality that ended the world he’d once lived in.
His Palace made from varying thicknesses of Ice was massive, the longest standing structure in this new world covered in the endless blizzard he’d accidentally created.
There were four incredibly tall towers in a square, with the actual palace filling out all the space between the structures, the ice carved adeptly into a massive mountain creating an immovable base from which his castle rise, the only way up being a massive icy staircase leading up from the canyon.
Though he often finds himself questioning the need as the only living person, since he himself can never bring himself to leave his palace to look on at every everything he’s destroyed. So as always, he was left with his dreary existence unable to do anything but figure out something else to build, a habit he’d developed creating massive and intricate ice sculptures…with no one to share them with…
It was another bleak day…he’d found himself standing in front of one of his massive windows staring into his endless blizzard with a somber frown, but he’d soon stepped back find something else to do.
After his hundreds of years alive, he’d scarcely left his palace…and after so long, he’d contemplated going out…reaching the massive front doors and stepping out, immediately getting it with the harsh chill that only made him stronger, but as he was about to set off, he saw something…or could it be…someone…climbing up steps…?