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

Things had weighed upon his mind as of late, things that confounded him because they had nothing at all to with what he really wanted to think of. Well, in a sense they did, but it seemed to be for all the wrong reasons. He thought of the Moon Goddess and how the Sun was drying up his land, but instead of finding ways to counter it he only thought of how beautiful the dark lady was. The Plague had come to a standstill and while he acknowledged that Psyche did not do her duty wholly satisfactory in that one regard, his thoughts about replacing her as Crux weren't grounded in attaining results, but a selfish desire not to have his daughter abandoned by her mother. Or maybe he was just fooling himself, and it was a convenient excuse to nick her title and put it on someone who went out there, mad as the wind, and got things done?

Needless to say, Mauja had wandered his wilting forest in a state of dismayed confusion, and had seemed unable to gather his thoughts. The result? He stood at the edge of his homeland, watching the restless ocean roll below a long drop, and amused himself by forcing ice spikes out of the ground. One by one they rose with a screech, rocking the world when they found their limit, and then they withdrew into the ground again with a grinding noise. The monotone action of pulling at it with his mind soothed him somewhat, and when he finally stopped and looked around, he realized he had no idea how long he'd been at it - but the world felt clearer, cooler, and his head too. Mauja blinked in the now-dark, glad that today's sweltering heat was over.

He hated the Sun God. Passionately, fiercely.

The King exhaled slowly, eyes turning skyward. It was dark, the stars were out, and by his side the fog billowed, some of it streaming off the edge and gentle falling down to the ocean. He had no desire to join it, and with a grunt he turned back from the edge, glad that he was alone. Sweat was drying on his body and he was contemplating where to go and nap when Ulrik's voice rang out through the night. Immediately the pale beast halted, his previously disturbed mind finding a single focus, clarity previously denied to him. Suspicion and curiosity filtered through his brain, but after a moment he brushed aside the initial notion that Ulrik was out to get his throne. The stallion had always been a fierce racist and had probably grown restless with how idle everything had been. Mauja bowed his head to the blame for that, accepting it as graciously as he would a kiss from the Moon God. It was, after all, his fault that the herd had stalled.

Without responding to the call, he broke into a canter, navigation his fog-filled land with ease. It did not shame him that he wasn't the first to find Ulrik, but rather pleased him that others cared to listen; he graced them all with his eyes, greeting them in silence. However, dominance had to be asserted, without him coming off as an ass. Smoothly, walking now, Mauja entered the gathering, his pale form ghost-like in the dark. "Ulrik," he began in a pleasant voice. "To what purpose do you call my herd?" It was an open question, delivered without traces of suspicion or reproach - in fact, Mauja's entire stance mirrored an open curiosity. And he was curious as to why the engineer had called his herd together. Did he have an idea? That would be splendid. Mauja had an inkling what it was about, but did he think to run the operation all by himself? That would be less splendid. Mauja the FrostHeart was still King of World's Edge.