For many a day and many a night had the brave knight John Watson been journeying. He traveled the many lands in search of material, that of which would forge the mightiest of blade, some material that would bring envy to any novice craftsman or blacksmith who laid eyes on it. His travels brought him to the northernmost edges of the land. A frigid place that’s geography contains frozen black lakes and jagged mountains capped with snow. But the lands were naught just filled with dazzling landscapes and waterworks, but was complete with wild spirits and monsters roaming the edge of civilization, which in itself was run by paganlike tribes of strongmen. For a fortnight did the Knight travel, roaming the beast lands for food and shelter or civilization. At some days he would come across tribes of barbarians living in fur tents or thatched wooded homes. Upon the sight of a knight from far lands afar, dressed in a coat of mail adorned with designs fit for kings, many challenged the warrior, but none could surpass the knights fantastic swordplay, nor could the break his near marvelous shield. So the knights journey into the cold continued. As the sun set he would stay in caves to get a nights rest, or be given shelter in the homes and grobes of stray shamans and wondering druids. The elder, at least compared to most hero’s that do dare walk the land, knight hadn’t the faintest clue what he was truly doing on such wild edges of civilization. He was one of the few who had taken up a challenge to build the most worthy of blades for an old friend of his, but what drove him north was a lust for adventure that burned deep in his heart, to feel the wind once again roar in his face and batter his mail as he traveled into the unknown. One fortunate sunset as morning hastily turned to night, the traveler came across a great mead hall, a mammoth of a structure covered in great shields of many warriors, and torches resting in sconce’s made from ivory tusks of hulking wild predators. Around the hall were garrisons in which many a warrior lived and waited. So the Knight approached, marching up a great staircase and into the huge decorative doors of the mead hall, entering uninvited. On entrance he found himself confronted by two hulking men, each wearing a set of mail made from scales of felled beast, and each with axes the size of one half a person and greater yet. “Who art thou who steps into our halls uninvited, armed in a coat of mail made for lords, O warrior” One demanded, with a gruff voice. “I am Sir John Watson.” Spake the warrior “I am here to consult with whomever may be the great chieftain of this mighty fortress.” The warriors guards thought and whispered to each other in private. The Knight did not know the name of the chieftain who he wished to speak to, so an assassin he was not. After a pause one guard raised his voice. “Very well then, we shall take ye to our lord, O warrior, but try to slay him and you will only meet the true lord of all the world. And you will keep your arms and adornments here!” Spake one of the guards. So the knight loosened his scabbard and dropped his sword to the ground, removing the mighty shield off of his back as well and setting it next to his brand. The guards gripped him, one on each arm, and brought him before their lord. A regal looking man who wore the furs of a great white bear as a cloak and sat in a stone throne. The king was of a powerful build, strong so that he mig wrestle a bear or a mammoth prehospital, as well as a brown beard that extended down to his chest. “Who are you that walks into my halls uninvited. I do not bode well with unexpected visitors, especially when they wield such a fine brand as your own.” Spake the king in a deep voice. The knight took a humbly low bow to show his respect. “I am Sir John Watson, knight of Camelot, Hero of the land of offtopic. I come here in seek of council. I have been told through many tales that this land is rich in precious ores made in the use of the finest blades and armors, I seek to find some of such metal so I may make myself a blade.” Spake the knight about his quest. “Why would one such as me help an outside such as yourself, O sir knight? Metal such as you speak would be rare and god sent indeed so why waste it away for the likes of some civil nobleman? Beasts roam the heartlands and ravage our people, our strongest of materials shall not be wasted for the likes of you.” Space the king, with cheeks red of anger. “And what of theses mighty beasts, O lord? ‘Tis Common knowledge That any great for would collect itself a horde of treasures. Might I seek my metal from one of them?” Inquired the knight. Then spake the king “Ahh so you seek battle. A great frost beast lies dead north here. Travel a tenday and thou shalt find a frozen lake with a waterfall on the other end. Between the frozen spires of the falls lies the cave of a great ice beast, many O my warriors have tried and take the beast but all have frozen, never to return again. If death you seek go there, there your metal might lie. Be warned, knight, ‘Tis said that the breath of the beast solidified the very lake in which it lays, and it can even freeze the hardiest of mammoths.” So the knight wished the king farewell and head out with adventure in his beard and sword in his hand. Afore a tenday had past the knight found himself at the entrance to the cave described to him by the barbarian-king. The waterfall and frozen over in giant spires allowing for access into a cave underneath. So the warrior walked finding to his amazement that the entire cave was covered in frost and ice. Underneath the ice however was gold and riches aplenty. The knight knew this must be the spot where the beast lies. So on he went, eventually coming across the great monster. It sat atop a horde of riches and jewels, enough to fill a kings treasury. The monster itself was ginormous in size, weighing more then any group of elephants and standing taller then any great mead hall of the north. As the knight gallantly approached the beast stirred. It stood up on two legs and roared, a deafening roar which shook the cavern around them. “Who be thou to disturb my rest! It matters naught, thy shall perish and freeze against my breath like a traveler against the winds of the north!” The beast bellowed. The knight brandished Excalibur, his mighty brand, and charges. It spread two white and scale covered wings, standing its full length on massive legs. The beast roared, from its mouth came a cone of frost, frigid to the point where any normal warrior would be frozen. But the knight was naught a normal fighter. He raised his shield as the ice surrounds him, and drives onwards through the pain and cold. At the knight approached, a great talon of the beast swung towards his helm, seeking to land a killing blow. But the knight raised his mighty brand and it clashed into the monsters scaled hand, with a howl from it. The Knight jabbed the sword downwards aiming for the beasts exposed mouth, and struck true, the sword sinking deep into the monsters bottom gum line. Another roar escapes the beasts foul mouth, and it thrashes a great white tail, hitting the knights back and sending him toppling to the ground. An onslaught of blows followed with the Knight and the Wyrm crashing back and forth, turning the white snow red, more from the knight then the beast. The Wyrm took to the sky’s, its wings pounding against the air. It flew right past the knight then swooped back at him at high speeds. The warrior attempted to raise his shield but it was too late and the beasts claws struck true, tearing right through the fine mail and sending the knights shield clattering to the ground. At the next pass the knight noticed a flaw in the great Wyrm. As it dove right towards him with the intent to kill, and kill it would if it were to hit, the knight dove forwards. He planted his feet into the ground and jabbed with the sword in both arms, aiming for the wyrms exposed underbelly. The sword hit true and smote the beast, cutting right through the weaker scales and dropping the Wyrm dead, thus concluding the battle. The warrior made haste to search the lair, finding a solid block of Mithril in the horde that he took, as well as the scales of the beast, as well as an eye which quickly petrified to a stone like glass in the cold. The knight then traveled, returning to the shamans and druids who gave him stay in their homes. They traveled as a group back to the mighty king who lent permission of use of a forge where he heated the metal. From it he created a mighty blade, a bästard sword fit for the warriors of the north. In the pommel he laid the petrified eye of the beast as well as the scales which he rested along the hilt. The blade itself glistened in the snow like the suns rays reflecting upon the frost. “I shall call thee Aparctias, the north wind.” The knight declared when the brand was finished. The many shamans that hath gathered worked on the blade, preforming rituals of enchantments to make it like the winds of the north itself. The blade gained the properties of making the wielder of such resistance to the cold and flames alike. The blade strikes with the frost of the north, which can be most useful against beings of fire, or a useful tool for beings of that element against their natural enemy of cold. [spoiler]The sword is frostbrand made of Mithril, so it is really light and stronger then most normal swords. The enchantments on it make the user resistant to cold temperatures and fire, and it does extras frost damage. [/spoiler]