Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

Restlessness drove him from his haunt; restlessness and purpose. Mauja could not conquer the world if all he did was stand at the Edge of the world and watch the ocean roll underneath the falling fog. Mauja's birds would not whisper in his ears if they didn't know where he was. Mauja's army would not exist, if he did not recruit it. If he slackened off, the entire herd did. If he pushed forward, mercilessly, they did too. He could not expect them to take the first steps in the charge. Their King had to do that, and in the way that a single, small stone can cause a landslide did he move forward, skipping along from situation to situation and trying to build a foundation for his dreams. Frequenting the Threshold was vital to his plans, and so he drifted through the trees like a pale ghost from some distant, half-remembered dream. How queer that a sense of serenity lingered upon his mind when survival hammered so hard in the heart of another.

For being a unicorn, his scent was remarkably strong and distasteful. He reeked of blood and fear, determination. Mauja's drifting walk came to an abrupt stop, and he peered curiously into the thick darkness. Here and there a fall like silver water lit up the ground, and when he moved forward again his horn shimmered as it entered the light. Wary but intrigued he crept closer to the newcomer, not yet seeing him but smelling him, stronger and stronger with each faint breath of wind. And then, he came into view - tall and thick, dark, sturdy. Absolutely drenched in sweat. From his forehead a thick horn sprouted, curving slightly as it sped towards its end. Mauja's first thought about it was that it was a very long horn.

In the dark of the night, Mauja glittered like cold frost; his eyes glittered too, and he offered the tired warrior a small smile. "Welcome to Helovia," he said, voice deep yet soothing. There were few things more beautiful than a unicorn, and one that seemed so worn, so sweaty... Incredibly strange, but the very idea of a proud, tired soldier doing his duty was nearly like a turn-on for Mauja. It nearly disturbed him as he smoothly stepped closer to the sturdy stranger. "You seem to have had an eventful journey coming here, hm?" One 'brow arced upwards, and then he gave a soft laugh reminiscent of falling snow in cold winter. Clear, warm in the way that only Mauja could make something cold be. "I am Mauja, of World's Edge. And you?"

He smiled in the dark, the frost upon the tip of his horn glittering coldly.