[sachmo]

It begins...

Tholvarag stirred as if waking from a long slumber. Instantly, his holy men came to his side, but he waved them away. As he rose from the dias, he could feel the loss. He was gone; there could be no doubt.

He turned and faced his servants, who watched him with a mixture of fear and anticipation on their faces. Somehow, they too had felt the loss of Him, and they were looking to Tholvarag to fill the void. Would the other peoples of the world look at him this way, or would they resist his power? Somehow, he felt he already knew the answer to this question.

He reached down to his side and drew the ancient ice blade of Niefelheim, Winter's Bite. Upon release from its scabbard, the blade flashed with power. Tholvarag, pretender god of Jotunheim, held the blade before him. He knew it would be some time before the blade would be put back to rest.

After a long pause, he addressed his servants.
"Summon the Jarls to the fortress, and send word to the Vaetti. Jotunheim is going to war. It is time to take the truth to the people of this world, by mouth or by sword. We will save this world from Chaos once again, as He did before. It is our duty and our right. We shall be victorious."

In his hand, Winter's Bite began to glow bright with anticipation.