#arkyn lore

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

Canon-Adherent League of Legends AU

In the year of 8024 BN, a child by the name of Arkyn was born to Sindri and Tyra Baldr, the firstborn of their family. Only four years later, he would be followed by a younger brother named Aethin.

Arkyn’s family was part of the Eynvarg tribe, a now long-forgotten clan that was allied with Serylda’s Tribe of the Winter’s Claw. The Eynvarg’s leader was Arkyn’s grandfather Tyrvald, a veteran of the wars fought against the old gods of the Freljord.  Arkyn's father and mother had also participated in the battles near the conclusion of the wars, being able to turn the tide with a powerful blessing bestowed by Lissandra to the allies of the Three Sisters.

With the conclusion of the war against the old gods, it was soon discovered that the blessing Lissandra had bestowed had a steep price. They had become nigh-immortal iceborn, but the price was subservience to the emptiness below, the consuming void. Lissandra had sold her people to otherworldly masters in order to help them fight the old gods. Avarosa and Serylda believed subservience to be a fate worse than death, and their tribes rose against Lissandra in order to break this pact.

By the time the war was truly heating up, Arkyn had already grown into a man. He took to the front lines, fighting a brutal conflict against other iceborn and eventually earning the honorary title of "Brýnt Drengr," or "Swift Hero." He lost many friends in the war. His family survived, but the same couldn't be said for Arkyn's first love, Freja Aldhomr. Whereas he had originally joined to fight for liberation and glory, after many near-death experiences, Arkyn was slowly becoming jaded and tired of the war. But it would not last for much longer.

A final siege against Frostguard Citadel saw the advent of the unthinkable; the descent - or rather the ascent - of the Watchers. The masters of the void who rose from the emptiness below the howling abyss. As these eldritch beings began to materialize in Runeterra, they were forced to take on a physical form, something they had no need for within the void. Lissandra, the dreamwalker who had sold her people out to the Watchers for power, now realized just how dire of a mistake it was. The iceborn raging at the gates of the Citadel prepared to fight not only Lissandra's followers, but even the voidborn monsters who they wished to be free of. Lissandra, witnessing the manifestation of these elder monsters, could not possibly fathom overcoming them. Using the very magic she was given in exchange for pledging servitude, Lissandra summoned a truly colossal amount of True Ice to trap the Watchers within. The iceborn laying siege, as well as all the iceborn within the citadel, were all caught in the crossfire. This included Arkyn.

Arkyn had been running supplies when this happened, and when the Watchers began to make themselves real, he sprinted with desperation to back up his allies at the gates. He saw the wave of true ice as it consumed friend and foe alike, and he realized he would not be able to escape it. That was when he caught sight of his younger brother Aethin. A prodigious mage and controller of ice magic. He reached for his brother as the ice overtook him, and all was dark.

Eventually, Arkyn would awaken. He found himself within the depths, some underground cavern system barely lit by bioluminescent moss and crystal. He was partially encased in true ice, but he was conscious. With great effort, and over a span of time that he could not truly tell, he used the iceborn magic he possessed to free himself of the ice. He had never been particularly good at controlling ice magic, his iceborn gift manifesting more in raw physical might than magical power. But it was still enough to free him.

Once he was out, Arkyn soon realized that he was alone. The ice he had freed himself from was not part of a larger glacier. The wave of true ice that encapsulated the iceborn and their masters was nowhere to be seen. It was just him, alone, and lost. Unbeknownst to him, the thing that had saved him was his very brother - conjuring his own true ice tomb for his brother under Aethin's jurisdiction, not Lissandra's.

Arkyn wandered within the caves for years, subsisting off underground springs and strange plants, occasionally able to indulge on other creatures that inhabited the caverns. These occasions were few and far between. Exploring with the hopes of finding his way to the surface and making it back to the citadel to see what had become of his kinsmen, Arkyn encountered many hardships before he ever saw the light of day. But the light did come.

When Arkyn finally emerged to the surface in 920 AN, the Freljord was nothing like the one he knew. The structure of the buildings, the language of its people, it was all foreign. It took Arkyn years to adjust to the modern Freljordian tongue. He took up residence in a city near the Northern coast and learned from the people there, eventually becoming fluent in both modern Freljordian and common. When he inquired about the fate of the iceborn, Arkyn was astonished to learn that, according to their history, the War of Three Sisters would have ended nearly 9,000 years ago. While the iceborn were said to exist, they were incredibly uncommon, something like a recessive gene that only certain descendants would acquire.

Arkyn sought out one of the better-known iceborn, Sejuani. She lead a tribe named after the same one he was once allied with, the Winter's Claw lead by Serylda. He met with her to discuss her nature. It seemed the iceborn of this era were not aware of their roots, disconnected from the reality of the Watchers. Additionally, it seemed that the true ice weapons that had been passed down through generations were seen as double-edged blades, harming those who wield them. To Arkyn, the concept of suffering immense pain just by holding true ice was confusing. The iceborn of his time were much more resilient to the cold. Perhaps the disconnect from the Watchers had weakened the iceborn's "blessing."

Frustrated that the ancient history of the iceborn was all but lost, Arkyn couldn't help but feel despair and rage. Lissandra. She was the only one capable of conjuring that amount of true ice. His people's history was naught but a myth, and even Sejuani did not fully understand her powers. Arkyn resolved himself to amend this. The iceborn existed. They were his family. His friends. His kin. His enemy. The culture and history of his people was gone, and Arkyn wanted to scream out and declare "I'm here. They mattered."

Arkyn packed what few belongings he had accumulated in the past couple years he had been on the surface. He would travel the land and scour it for truth. To discover what had become of his people, what had become of the Watchers, and to reveal the truth of it all to the world. His people's history would not go forgotten, caged in ice beneath entombed beneath bloody snow.

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

“Brýnt Drengr”

Arkyn’s title has been changed from Brynt Hrarr to Brýnt Drengr. Details below cut.

My “Old Freljordian” that I wrote info on way back in 2015 was just taking words from Old Norse and modifying their spelling, using Norwegian, Swedish, or even Gaelic if I couldn’t find the word I wanted. I was looking over Arkyn’s title again, “Brynt Hrarr,” and felt the desire to look up the original words again. Turns out the Norse word is Brýnt, not Brynt.

As for Hrarr? Google tells me that the words “Hari” and “Arr” (see; Ragnar, Gunnar, Einar) translate to “Warrior” or “Army.” I definitely just mashed Hari and Ar to make Hrarr. In fact, on my own worldbuilding post I specified that “warrior” was “Hjar,” not “Hrarr.” Upon looking through the same page I learned about Hari and Arr, I saw that “Drengr” also translated to “warrior.” However, drengr carries a more culturally significant meaning. Drengr denotes a warrior with exceptional courage, honor, and prowess. Since Arkyn’s title of “Swift Warrior” was an honorary title gained of his own merit during the War of Three Sisters, I’m updating his title to “Brýnt Drengr.” It’s going to be a little weird since I’ve used Brynt Hrarr for so many years, but I feel this version is more linguistically correct.

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

// Lore Change

As I said yesterday, I’m changing Arkyn’s lore. The reason for me doing this is because I feel like Arkyn’s current lore is a toxic self-insert, where I’m forcing him onto the official lore. I have given him a friendship with a canon character, and somewhat threw him into that character(Sejuani)’s lore. It’s an unhealthy thing, an I have decided to change him. I feel really bad about having a new Iceborn appear after so long after the watchers’ defeat, so Arkyn is now going to be be an Iceborn from the War of Three Sisters timeline. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Does that mean Arkyn is a super old man?” Well, the answer is both yes and no.

Arkyn was one of the warriors under Serylda in the Tribe of the Winter’s Claw. Note that this is what later turned into the Winter’s Claw, led by Sejuani. During the war, he killed many enemies, fighting with a speed-based fighting style. However, during a specific battle, a blizzard picked up, causing massive chaos. Serylda’s forces pursued their foes as they retreated, and Arkyn soon found himself alone, isolated from his kinsmen. 

Putting the rest in read more so that I don’t cover your entire dash with a realy long story.

He wandered for a day or two in the snow, completely lost. He eventually stumbled upon a cavern system, and seeking shelter from the wind, went inside. He was weak from hunger, and eventually collapsed as he walked through the long passages.

When he awoke, he was incredibly cold, and he found a living ice troll over him. If you know Arkyn’s old lore, you will realize that this is very similar to it. However, the ending of this section is very different from his old lore.

Arkyn fought the beast, eventually defeating it after a long battle. During it, he only felt colder and colder, but in order to survive, he embraced the feeling. Instead of feeling uncomfortable with the feeling, he forced his brain to feel as if he was supposed to be that cold, submitting himself to the chill. While he did not gain any powers from doing so, he began to build a tolerance to cold in this manner.

In the end the ice troll left behind a heart, and having nothing else to eat, Arkyn took a bite. It affectd him almost instantaneously, and he felt the winter rushing through his veins, pervading his mind. It passed after an hour or so of paralyzed confusion, and Arkyn’s toleration to the cold only grew more. He timidly kept the rest of the heart with him, in case he needed food again.

It took a long time, but eventually Arkyn caved again, taking another bite. It sent a shock through his body, and the sensation of winter itself entering his body returned. It was as if it was inspecting him, confused. The ice heart belonged to one of it’s creations, a living ice troll. The troll was empowered by winter, so why was it’s essence inside of some human now? It poked and prodded, as if it was a living and breathing entity, unseen to the naked eye.

Arkyn continued his trek, occasionally taking another bite out of the ice heart when hunger took over. Every time he did so, cold rushed through him, though each and every time it seemed to be more accepting. While initially it had paralyzed him, when he finished eating the heart in whole, it was like an almost excited rush, exploring the possibilities of inhabiting the human’s body.

Arkyn entered a large chamber a few days after entering the cave, a day after he had finished the troll’s heart. when he took a step into it, a massive beast dropped from the ceiling, another creature of living ice. This time, it was a spider.

While Arkyn fought, he shook with fear. The creature was horrifying, a grotesque figure of his worst horrors. While he ended the fight victorious, the encounter sparked a deep-seeded hatred, if not phobia, of spiders. Just like with the troll, the spider left behind a heart of ice, the rest of it’s body disappearing into a chilling mist. Arkyn chose not to eat this one, too horrified to even think about it.

But he could only last so long without food.

Just like before, Arkyn caved, taking a bite. The sensation was like a roaring blizzard this time. The winter had found him out; he was an outsider to these caves, and had killed the guardians it had put in place to protect it. The cave system contained something of magnificent power, and Arkyn had compromised it’s security.

He bore the furious storm with grim determination, the winter ripping through his body with fierce power. It was as if it was trying to kill him, to freeze him solid and take his life. However, his body kept moving. He refused to submit to the chill, instead harnessing it. With a scream of pain, he took hold of the power that was trying to rend him apart, directing it away. However, instead of throwing power out, he found himself twenty feet further than he had been before. He had, in the span of a second, dashed the entire distance.

The winter calmed and left, as if something stunning had happened. Arkyn shook his head and continued his aimless journey, and every bite of heart afterwards received no response.

Eventually, Arkyn came across a massive cavern, this one without a guardian. Or so it seemed. The walls were coated in true ice, the ice that never melts, legendary to the Freljord. While Arkyn had long become accustomed to the cold, stepping into that cavern triggered something. He made it to the center, and suddenly saw nothing but blue, finding himself encased in ice. The cold rapidly set in, freezing him like that, his body shutting down and going into stasis.

For ages, he stayed like that, enclosed in a block of ice in the depths of the earth. Over time, who knows how long, Arkyn gradually grew conscious again. He couldn’t open his eyes, and all he knew was the cold. The cold was surrounding him, the cold was inside of him, and the cold was him. Whereas the trap inside the chamber had been designed to kill anyone who entered, it had only succeeded in putting Arkyn into stasis. Now awoken, he felt a chill creeping it’s way into his very heart, the one thing that had managed to resist the freezing cold for so long. He didn’t stop it, either. Arkyn was the winter now, so he saw no reason to keep the chill from consuming him.

His heart finally froze, but did not stop beating. Instead, his blood started to rush, and the ice encasing him began to crack. With a shattering explosion, Arkyn fell to the ground, limp, as he was finally freed of his imprisonment.

Though he did not know it yet, Arkyn had been asleep for hundreds of years, un-aging while he was frozen. Now, being Iceborn, he wouldn’t have aged anyways. However, times had changed. He now was different, changed from what an Iceborn might have been and into a vessel containing cold. No, a vessel of winter itself.

A vessel of the Freljord.

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

// Vote for Arkyn on league forums!

I have an old post on the forums, seen here, in which I have everything you could wish to know about Arkyn involving abilities, scaling, stats, lore, and everything. It’s under the champion concepts page, and I’d love some upvotes to get it recognition in the community. I’m probably gonna get like 2 votes from this tops, but I’d figure I’d give it a try.

http://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/skin-champion-concepts/RNAwZAWu-champion-concept-arkyn-iceborn-vindication-art-included

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

The Night Before the Storm

The camp was dark, the sunlight long gone as the moon began its slow ascent into the night sky. Arkyn, a dual swordsman of the Winter’s Claw, was walking amongs the tents and poorly constructed shelters of his camp, the place in which he had grown up. In the Winter’s Claw, most everyone was poor, starving, and weak, but it was something he had grown accustomed to long ago.

now, however, someone was beginning to change all of that.

Arkyn smiled at the thought of the woman who had gone to such lengths to improve their living. She was a woman with of unrelenting will, possessing the strength of ten men, with the pride of a lioness. She was a sight to behold, graceful yet brutal in her own right. Sejuani, The Winter’s Wrath.

With a smile hidden underneath his cloth mask, Arkyn turned a corner, intending to head to his own tent. Tomorrow was a big day for the Winter’s Claw. Sejuani was leading a group of men out into a blizzard that had been plaguing the frozen waste nearby for the past two weeks. It was to be the ultimate test of endurance and dedication to her cause.

As Arkyn walked, he took a moment to reflect on the times leading up to this point. He thought of his choice meeting with the queen herself all those years ago, the training regimens they developed, and even the campaign to achieve Sejuani’s rise to power. Half of his life he had spent working with her, sharing her dream, and attempting to make it a reality. Recently, however, she had been pushing him away, as if friendship would weaken her rule.

As Arkyn was walking amongst the tents, however, he felt a tug on his shoulder. Curious, he turned, expecting to see the form of a fellow soldier behind him. However, when Arkyn looked back, he instead saw the face of Sejuani, of whom he had been thinking about for the past while. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, wondering what she needed.

“Vinyr, we need to talk.” Sejuani stated, her voice flat and even. It was a demand, and the intonation implied that he would obey or suffer consequences.

However, Arkyn was distracted be the fact that she had referred to him as Vynir. She had called him an honorific meaning friend or kinsman. That was a title he had not been called by in years, and it was especially surprising seeing as Sejuani had appeared to forget his existence, even though they were once friends. Arkyn had given up, turning to his swordcraft, so what was Sejuani coming to him for now?

“What is this about, Hjalmar?” Arkyn responded, getting right to the point. He was not one to beat around the bush, and he liked to keep unnecessary chatter to a minimum.

Sejuani shook her head, turning and walking away, a silent invitation for him to follow. And so he did.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arkyn stepped into the tent, walking past the flap as it fluttered shut behind him. He was still curious as to what Sejuani wanted, bringing him to her tent at this hour of night. He carefully observed his surroundings, taking note of the assorted scrolls and stacks of papers scattered about.

“Pardon the mess, Arkyn, I haven’t had time to tidy up.” Sejuani claimed, sitting in a chair near her bedroll. It surprised him that the queen denied herself an actual bed, for surely she would be given one if only she were to ask. He also knew that Sejuani didn’t care about the cleanliness of her tent, the comment was just a pleasantry.

“I know you didn’t bring me here to talk about home decoration, my queen,” he said.

Sejuani released a deep sigh, looking over towards him. Her blue irises shone signs stress, mixed in with something else, something unreadable.

“That’s just like you, Arkyn,” she muttered, averting her gaze, “I bring you here to ask for some advice and you give me the cold shoulder.”

Sejuani pulled off her characteristic helmet, shaking her head as she did so. Her close-cropped silver hair fell back into place after a moment, though she did had to push a few deviating strands out from her eyes.

“Arkyn,” she said, her tone now low and serious. A hint of pain was evident, though Sejuani did a decent job of hiding it. “I have a confession.”

Arkyn figured they would be there a while, so he sat himself down in the only other chair in the tent, facing her.

“I am no consultant, Sejuani, but if you wish to speak, then I will listen.”

She looked up, as if the open invitation was exactly what she needed. However, the queen was hesitant, taking a long time to gather her words. Arkyn didn’t say anything, he simply sat there, awaiting her response.

After what felt like an hour of tense silence, Sejuani looked once more into Arkyn’s icy blue eyes, speaking in a voice that sounded much more like a child than the composed warrior he had come to know.

“I’m scared.”

These two words were the last things Arkyn was expecting to hear out of her mouth. The un-killable warrior queen who was tirelessly working for the betterment of her clan, scared? The idea was ridiculous. But here they were, sitting in a tent, with Sejuani’s hands shaking as she stared at them.

“I’m worried that, if we go into that storm tomorrow, people will die. These men trust me, what will I do if they…”

She buried her face in her hands mid sentence, unable to go further. It was completely abnormal for her, acting so childish and worrisome. Arkyn crossed the small room, placing a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

“You’ve done this yourself, Sejuani. You know that it’s hard, but it’s not impossible. I believe these men are ready for it.”

They did not move for another period of time, standing and sitting in utter silence, each Freljordian left to their own respective thoughts. Eventually, Arkyn pulled his hand away, stepping towards the tent flap once more.

“I am not one who is blessed with elaborate speech, Sejuani, but I know strength when I see it. Tomorrow will go well. We will triumph, and arrive home as new warriors, baptized by the the trial of frost.”

He left without another word, stepping out into the moonlight.

“Vynir,” said a soft voice from within the tent, “thank you.”

He smiled to himself, walking away.

“Any time, Hjalmar.”

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

Bad memory that still haunts them ((mobile))

// doing the same thing as what I did with Rammus’s prompt, I’m gonna make it a memory from the past. Also, fair warning, MASSIVE INCOMING FEELS! PREPARE YOURSELVES!

 Everything was white. All around there was nothing but endless tundra, and the only movement for miles was the gentle fall of snowflakes. As they fell, a few came to rest upon a motionless figure, lying face-down in the snow. The young man was almost completely still, save for a weak breath that would shudder through his body every now and then. Time passed; it could have been an hour, it could have been days. In the snowy domain, there was no way to tell the time. Nevertheless, some kind of change occurred within Arkyn, and he rose on shaky and uncertain legs, testing to see if he was truly alive.

Arkyn patted himself down, looking for any injuries that he might have suffered. He was confused and disoriented, not sure as to why he was out in the frozen waste. Why had he come here? Why was he alone? Before he could ponder these questions further, memories came flooding back to him in a rush, causing him to fall to his knees, grasping his face in his hands.

That’s right. The blizzard. It was all due to the blizzard. He could see the faces of his companions, a mixture of pain and terror, all trying to push through the storm. He could see Bora falling on the ground, never to rise again. He could see Frey closing his eyes and collapsing, unable to move on. He saw Pogrim crying, knowing he would nevermore kiss his wife farewell. Three men he had seen die firsthand. And what about the others?

Other names and faces flew through his memories, all of them full of anguish. All but one. He saw Sejuani’s face, strong and determined, as she shouted encouragement to her men. He saw himself by her side, leading the path for their weaker allies. He remembered a particularly strong gust of wind that had knocked him to his knees, and then his memories faded, leaving him gasping in the snow, back in the present.

Arkyn dug his swords into the snow, pushing himself up. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest, and a horrible thought crossed his mind. Where was everyone now? He frantically looked around, scanning for any other signs of life.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he could see was miles of endless white, stretching from east to west. Despair clawed at his heart, the worst of assumptions setting in.

No one was anywhere to be seen. There was no sign of life. He was the only thing moving in a two mile radius. He alone had survived.

Arkyn fell to the ground, unable to keep himself standing anymore. He wept, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as he came to the realization that everyone who was with him had died. There were twenty-five men who had ventured out to prove their strength, but only one had survived.

With a new startling revelation, Arkyn realized that even though he may have survived, he knew he could not return. Not only did he not know the way back, he would be blamed for the death of everyone. The entire clan would turn on him, accusing him of murdering everyone, Sejuani included.

Sejuani included.

Arkyn saw her anguished face, perfectly outlined in the campfire’s fading light. He saw her determination as she trained against a poorly-made dummy. He saw her pride when she had finally bested him in a sparring match. He saw her triumphant expression after seizing the throne of the Winter’s Claw. He saw her strained face as she discussed political issues with foreign diplomats.

He saw her smile, a beautiful, rare smile that only a select few had been blessed to witness. A smile that he could never see again.

Arkyn felt something in him die, lost forever to the snow. The snow that had taken his parents, his brother, and now her away from him. He would never forgive it. He hated the cold, he hated the Freljord, he hated the ice, and he wished it would all just fade to black. These were his last thoughts as he fell back into unconsciousness, the frost closing in like a blanket around him.

He hated everything.

the-cute-bad-santa

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

instinct

// Decided to write a tidbit about Arkyn’s past instead of a headcanon with the prompt. If anyone is squeamish when it comes to animal organs and the consumption of said organs, don’t read this.

The passageway echoed with Arkyn’s footsteps as he continued moving, travelling ever deeper into the frozen caverns under the Freljord’s surface. He had established a method to conserve his energy while exploring, and it was working well thus far. Breathe in for three steps, exhale for two. His heart was beating to the rhythm his feet created. His consistent pace was only interrupted by the need to step over boulders and shards of fallen glow-crystal, a light-producing stalactite unique to these caverns. He had lived underground for somewhere around a year now, and he had survived off of the hearts of the many creatures inhabiting the depths. For now, there was no sort of horror trying to kill him, and he was thankful for the fact.

However, in the ice caves, nothing is safe for long. As Arkyn descended further and further, his scarf flowing behind him, something began to seem off. An uneasy feeling set in, and he unsheathed his blades in precaution, now on full alert. He continued walking like that, blades drawn and ready, for a long time. After a while however, seeing as there was no action, Arkyn began to wonder if his fear was nothing but a passing feeling. He moved to sheath his blades once more when he felt a malicious presence directly behind him.

Raw instinct saved Arkyn from the crushing blow that cracked the very stone he had stood on a moment before, the sound echoing on the cave walls. Arkyn turned, his eyes widening like discs as he took in the form of his assailant. 

It was a horrifying thing, made of living ice. The monster was like nothing he had ever seen before, with jagged spikes covering it’s entire body, and towering at least four feet over him. It had massive legs that were constructed like a wolf’s, but they were at least three times the size. It’s arms were like tree trunks with claws at the end, and it’s face resembled that of a dragon’s, though it was as if the dragon’s face had been pushed inwards, deforming it with a disgusting result. Behind it was a sweeping tail of nothing but blade-like shards of ice, made for rending flesh apart. Arkyn moved backwards, trying to put some distance between the two of them, horrified by the abomination before him.

The beast noticed his cautionary movement and barreled after Arkyn, unleashing a screech like no other, assaulting Arkyn’s ears with the grinding pitch. Arkyn barely managed to dodge away as it barreled past, deadly claws slicing the air only a few inches from his face.

Arkyn only took a moment to recover, and he prepared himself for the beast’s next attack, making sure to keep it in his sight now that his hearing was compromised. The screech had deafened his hearing, and all he could hope d that he would regain it soon.

Arkyn analyzed the beast as it turned, furious that its prey had eluded the initial pounce. It exhaled, a powerful stream of frost jetting from it’s massive nostrils. The creature tensed up, shooting itself towards Arkyn once more, aiming for his chest.

But Arkyn was faster.

With a explosion of power, Arkyn shot towards his foe, spinning in midair and stabbing his blades down into the creature’s back. Arkyn used his momentum to dig into the back of the ice beast, flipping it over itself in the air. Mid-rotation, he ripped out his blades and flung the beast into the cave wall. he followed it, not giving it time to stand back up. With ruthless efficiency, he slashed over and over again, tearing it to pieces with a barrage that was too fast to follow with the naked eye. After he had struck the beast at least 50 times, he unleashed a final blow, his right hand blade Aethin glowing blue with power. The impact sent the remnants of the creature scattering about the cavern floor, exploding in a brilliant display of crystals.

As the unidentifiable pieces melted into the floor, Arkyn sheathed his weapons and stepped towards what was left of the body, reaching into it’s butchered chest and pulling out the only thing that mattered to him. With a sadistic grin, he lowered his face mask and brought the most important organ to his mouth, breathing in the scent. It was made of ice, a living ice, and the power concealed within the heart was more than one would imagine. With a gratuitous smile, Arkyn dug in. 

ask-rammus-its-ok

[arkyn-iceborn-vindication]

Introduction to Arkyn, Iceborn Vindication.

// So this is going to be a somewhat lengthy post about the lore of my OC Arkyn, giving y'all some background so that you can better roleplay with him.

Arkyn is a quiet, snowy-haired individual with a cold aura. His eyes, when not covered by a hood, glow a frigid blue, and his mouth is almost always covered by a half-face mask of white cloth. His primary fighting asset is unparalleled bursts of speed, and he wields twin one-handed swords.

Arkyn grew up in the far, northern reaches of the Freljord, where winter’s bite was the harshest. He was a member of the Winter’s Claw, and as such, he lived a hard life. At a young age Arkyn found out that his clan was very weak, lacking a proper leader and direction. Day after day he, his brother Aethin, and his parents would live off of crumbs, barely surviving the extreme conditions they lived in. Many a time Arkyn had suggested to his father that they leave, but his father would hear nothing of it. He held his kinsmen dear, and he would stay even if it meant starving to death.

Like many other children, Arkyn watched in horror as his clan mates fell prey to the cold. During his twelfth year, his younger brother Aethin passed away due to a disease that they couldn’t treat. Arkyn felt powerless, unable to help his own brother, and he began to take out his anger, sorrow, and hurt through fighting.

Aethin’s death had a great effect on his family, and soon his parents fell sick as well. Their hearts were broken by the loss and the two couldn’t bear the grief. With unbearable sorrow Arkyn watched the last pieces of his be taken by the Freljord.

Arkyn inherited two swords from his father. They came with a note about how Sindri, hus father, had noticed Arkyn’s bruises and cuts from getting into fights. He told Arkyn that if he wished to fight, he required real weapons. They were wonderfully made, exact twin copies of eachother. He named his right-hand sword Aethin, after his brother, and his left-hand sword Sindri, after his father. He didn’t name a blade after his mother, seeing as fighting was a man’s job.

Arkyn became fully devoted to his craft, honing his skills with the blade until he believed none could beat him. He found purpose in combat, developing a skillset based on high speed and rapid assault. Arkyn became very strong, and he was proud of his finesse in swordplay. He was considered one of the stronger warriors in the tribe, even if he was only 17 at the time.

Sejuani had never seemed like much to Arkyn. He knew who she was, a victim of the cold, just like him. However, he had never seen her as anything else. When he heard rumors of her pushing herself, training in extreme conditions, he grew curious. He went out to find her, concerned for her health.

When Arkyn find her training, he was astounded by her determination. Sejuani was a machine, an unstoppable force of perseverance. After a while he grew respect her, amidst as an equal. The winter had killed her family, as it had killed his. They were alike, and for this reason, Arkyn was one of the many who supported Sejuani’s rise to the throne.

With her coronation, things began to change. Arkyn and Sejuani, who had became friends, grew distant. Sejuani claimed that friendship would weaken her. Arkyn knew there to be truth in her words, but it still hurt. After a while, he began to devote himself fully to the art of the sword once more, turning back to fighting when politics had failed him.

It didn’t take long for Sejuani to begin training her army, a motley assortement of men. She was infuriated with their cowardice, and she trained them day and night, trying to shape them into true warriors.

Soon, a massive turning point occurred in Arkyn’s life. Sejuani had decided to take her men into a blizzard, the ultimate test of devotion and strength. The rest of the village watched grimly as the procession headed out. This was a questionable decision, and many were doubtful of Sejuani. They did not fully trust her yet.

The blizzard trial was a horrible failure. Four men were confirmed dead after the ordeal was over, and two more died in their homes. In addition, one man has gone missing, and no one had found a trace of them, as if the storm had swallowed them whole. That man was Arkyn.

// I will continue his lore at a later date so this post doesn’t take five years to scroll through. I’m also working on writing the whole story on wattpad, search up Matrota to find it.