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

The corners of his mouth twitched with a small smile; Daltoff seemed to accept Mauja's unspoken sort-of-apology with grace, or maybe just to get it out of the way? Needless to say, the combination of the outburst, the scent of panic and death, had the King thoroughly interested in what the bay draft had been through. He allowed it to drop though, slightly surprised at the look he gave Korra's antlers. While they weren't traditional for Unicorns in these regions they were still horns. You could hardly call her a barefaced equine and still claim to have your sense of vision intact, nor did she sport wings of any sort. Logic dictated she was unicorn, a fact Mauja had embraced. He sought not to streamline the unicorn race into a species of similar traits and straight horns. In fact, he prized their individuality greatly, and saw each difference, each different face of the unicorn blood, as a great asset. What those with straight horns could easily accomplish, those with crooked or antlers could not; what those with crooked or antlers could accomplish with great skill, the ones with straight could not. Their weapon fell under one name but had so many shapes that it gave them a natural advantage over the other species. For anyone to question this natural order of things was madness, but, question it some did, and they needed to be taught their place in this world.

He seemed intrigued by the Edge, something which pleased the King - they lived in the most naturally dangerous land, a land blessed by the Moon herself. It was no secret that he was proud of his tall, dark forest, and of the sheer drop to the ocean below, but he tried to keep it more secret how thoroughly disturbed he was by its current state. This needed to end. The Plague needed to take off and devote itself wholeheartedly to its temporary purpose: eradicate as many Sun followers as possible. Mauja had a feeling things would get a lot hotter and a lot worse before this was over, so better start fighting back as soon as they could.

The reaction to the comment about purity was pleasant, too; it was like a hungry glint suddenly came into his eyes as he waved his horn, and beside him Korra chuckled. Mauja took another step forward, and moonlight glinted along the cold edge of his horn. "Yes," he said, mimicking the head movement. The tip of his horn cut through the air, Mauja's stark shadow mirroring the movement on the dappled forest floor. "This pure." And he allowed a predatory grin of his own to crest his face as Korra chimed in about the cause. She felt for it and he knew that, but found no reason to echo her statement. It was true, what she'd said. If you believed, if you joined the Plague, the Edge, you were a part of the brotherhood. You backed others, and others backed you. Both his grin and his eyes took on a darker quality as he asked, "Is this when I say, Welcome home, brother?"