Abberthorn

The City of Ice at The Top of The World

The journey to the top of the world was a long and arduous one that left Zodirah, Bellathor, and Browlynn feeling as though they had made a trek across all of Abberthorn. Reaching the top of the mountain the first part of The City of Ice that came into view was its stables, which had been built half a kilometre down the hill on a level terrace. The landing had a large stable where the horses were allowed to sleep with a small path headed up to the city. Across the lane was a small community which housed all of the people who were not allowed to make their homes within the city. The community had become a small makeshift city constructed mostly from wood. Each building looked drastically different from the one that stood beside it, making the small hill side community a vibrant splash of colour that comprised of all cultures from across Abberthorn.

As the travellers made their way past the hill side village, they were approached by an old Orc who had been standing by a signpost at the side of the road. 'My Lord Bellathor' he said as he threw himself on his knees at Bellathor's feet. 'The Gods have brought you to me so that I might beg for your forgiveness!'

'Forgiveness is something that I can never grant you Amnoraxe. Please remove yourself from my path so that I might continue to The City of Ice' scoffed Bellathor.

'I may never truly regain your trust My Lord, but please heed my warning when I tell you that you should not enter that city' grovelled the old Orc.

'Stand up you foolish old man' said Bellathor, his heart and voice filled with rage.

'Why should we not enter the city Amnoraxe?' asked Zodirah sympathetically as he helped the old man to his feet.

'That city is an accursed place. Each of the people, who live in this village, came to this place seeking a better life for ourselves after having been exiled from our homes. But once we arrived here, we learned that after dark any who do not fall under the race of man are forcibly removed from the city, only allowed to re-enter the following morning' said Amnoraxe.

'We are aware that xenophobia runs rampant in the realm of man, but we have not yet come across a city with such radical practices as this. All the same we have an important task which must be completed. We cannot afford any delays' said Zodirah.

'Please friends of my Chief, I beg of you. Do not attempt to enter the city. The guards will attack you on sight. It is best that you wait for morning. If you wish to enter that city then, I can serve as your guide. I know the city like the back of my hand and can take you any place that you wish to go!'

'We are in urgent need of seeing the Stjorna of this land. Will you be able to take us to their keep?' asked Zodirah.

'No, My Lords this I do not advise. None of our kind is allowed anywhere near the Stjorna's fortress' the old man spoke with such a broken spirit, that in all the time they have spoken he had not once lifted his head or looked any of them in the eye.

'We are not your Lords. We are simple travellers and no more' said Zodirah.

'This is not true. You are companions of My Lord and Chief, Lord Bellathor. You are of high stature and you are my superiors!' The old man had begun rubbing his hands together out of a fear of being misconstrued as being disrespectful.

'What is this Bellathor, is this how you treat your people? Do you have them fear you like this? What kind of a Chief are you?' asked Zodirah appalled by what he was seeing.

'This man was never like this when he lived in my stronghold. None of my people behave like such snivelling cowards. Orcs are a proud people. We would never stand to have another Lord over us in any manner. Whatever was done to this disgusting specimen, was done after he was exiled from my tribe.' Bellathor did little to hide his disgust for the old man. His eyes burned with such intense hatred that Zodirah and Browlynn dared not ask of its origins.