The breeze of the ferocious wind tore through lord Andrie's mind. His formidable eyes blazed with animosity and his thick eyelashes glazed to the pale darkness of the prisoner's land. His Heavy eyelashes furrowed a cloak from their scarce surroundings. His camouflaged pale skin wreathed in shadow colors. His chiseled face and fine long silver hair curling around from behind. Still, his rigorous body was coerced with frost and ice. And his hands tremble from hatred to whoever is in prison here on this wasteland. He appeared unaffected, however, his eyes warn dark stories of hundreds of days gone by. His hateful shadow lurking as the canopies that silence the breeze in the Wasteland. It was not a very amiable niche, with distress, anger, worry, and death awaiting whoever dared to embark inside the frigid land. The vestibule was also patrolled by the sandjinns. Their duty was to keep the prisoners from leaving this cursed land.

    A wintry wind stroked across the mountainside with a rawness that gave rise to one's soul into the gentle cloud-filtered rays. The icy breeze comes sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, yet even with a chill that brings a crispness to the day.   Ten of hundreds of people and creatures running around in a panic, packs of soldiers fighting a desperate battle to stay alive, invaders running rampant, killing, and tearing each other apart. Any attempts at bringing order were ended with threats of death. This was also the territory where the last of the resistance held out. Loyal Lord Colton's soldiers wouldn't want to see the heart of their land murdered, so they fought to the death to protect their Lord. Then chaos builds until no one knows what's going on and the only thing left to do is run away trying to keep themselves an