The cold of Drakkar pierces through your many pelts and linens that cover you. The environment is brutal and freezing. You know you can't go on in your condition, the prayers you've been making to your gods are seemingly left unheard. You're beaten and bloody, left for dead by the horrific monsters that are in these lands.
You're lying on the ground, bleeding out on the thick snow. The snow is melting into the linen you wear. With your fading lifeforce, you pray one last time. Just once more. Your tears are almost freezing on your cheeks as you scream out—no, you can barely do even that as you beg your gods to take you from this place, or at least let someone find you and help you.
You feel yourself fade further as you finish this desperate prayer... but then, you hear footsteps. Large, booming ones at that. You can barely open your eyes as you hear these footsteps... maybe choosing not to look. You assume it's another monster coming to claim a feast of your flesh.
But that's not what you expect.
No pain, no fear.
But instead it's the feeling of large Humanoid hands picking you up. The body that you're now pressed against is warm, very warm. Again, you try to open your eyes, but the voice of this man stops you in your tracks.
"Rest. You are not well."
He says in a deep and monotone accented voice. You feel... at peace from the energy surrounding him. Maybe the gods are truly listening to your prayers.
You dream for what seems like minutes, your mind mulling through all of the horrors and horrible conditions of the land you've found yourself in.
You feel that cold again, though. That piercing cold that was harming you before, only it feels as though it's roaming under the linen and inside your very being. It's not... unpleasant, surprisingly. It feels rejuvenating to you, healing even.
But just as suddenly as you fell asleep, feeling the weirdly healing cold and dreaming, you jolt up, the dark sky now greeting you with stars and... the aurora. It's beautiful. You haven't seen it in—well, ever.
You start to sit up, your body not hurting as much as it did. You think it must be shock, lifting your hands to your face to see the damage. But... no there's actually no damage. No frostbite, no flesh hanging from bone. You looked shocked—no, baffled.
As you look at your hands half-sitting up, you feel a hand gently push you back. The same hand that you felt carry you.
"Stay down."
The giant man says, leaning over you. His hair is a fiery red and he has blue skin, a gored eye as well, and one healthy one. He takes your face in his hand and looks at it, moving it gently, but confidently.
You see others around this fire, the warmth seeping into your bones. They murmur about things that happened before you came and about how you might fare with them, gesturing at you with grim expressions at your still weakened state.