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asmund-scion-of-ice · 2 years

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Late night shoutout to the old MtG RP community on here. I don't have the time or energy to RP anymore but not a day goes by that I don't think about you all. Your characters and worlds and dedication were and are truly amazing. I've seen you all go great places since then! You all are awesome!

#it's been 5 years #i definitely fucked up a bunch of the RP at the very end #so sorry about that #but you're all awesome #i still look at art and posts #and even if we all just reblog random stuff #i stil smile seeing it #so thanks for being cool #and for putting up with my bad RP etiquette #frostwing meadery #asmund speaks #asmund frostwing

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niuttuc · 6 years

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Did a round of errata for the change in formulation Dominaria will bring us. @asmund-scion-of-ice, @celesazura, @halonathewildone, @theseeker-oftruth, @maris-solstice and @thetalesofthereneverwood, with art by @artifexabyssal, @isharton, @land-ofthebooty and @maris-solstice. Also updated their own posts.

#fanwalker card #custom card #custom mtg card #multiples #sorry for the long post #mtg #Planeswalker #errata #not mine #asmund frostwing #celes azura #Halona #isobel #Maris Solstice #theren #ishton #land-ofthebooty #artifexabyssal

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thetalesofthereneverwood · 6 years

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The Bardic Man

Theren sits at the edge of the ivory keyboard. He looks out to see the crowd that gathered in Asmund’s that night. As he clears his throat, he began.

“Salutations my friends. Please enjoy this song parody of the Terran song “Piano Man.” It is one of the first times I’ve parodied a song, so I hope you enjoy”

“It's nine o'clock on a Saturday

The Ravnican crowd shuffles in

There's old ‘walker sitting next to me

Coolin’ drink with a frost covered grin

He says, "bard, can you play us a melody

One to get the patrons a glow

Keep it happy and sweet and With a good beat

To keep the patrons coming in droves"

La la la, di da da

La la, di da da da dum

Sing us a song, you're the bardic man

Sing us a song tonight

Well, we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' so bright

Now Asmund at the bar is a friend of mine

Though my drinks are not always free

And he's wiser than most, cause he’s lived though most

So he gives out advice for no fee

He says, "Theren, You’re needing to learn more"

As I came with a bright flustered face

"Don’t try so hard when you go for the wojek girl, and maybe she’ll hear your case"

Oh, la la la, di da da

La la, di da da da dum

Now Maris is a kind hearted Wojek

Who did find time for a wife

And he's talkin' with Alek, who gave him a panic

And probably will all his life

And Celes is dancing with bright orbed lights

As the planeswalkers drink in a row

Yes, they're sharing a drink to fight loneliness

Cause it's better than drinkin' alone

Sing us a song, you're the bardic man

Sing us a song tonight

Well, we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' so bright

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday

And Asmund gives me a smile

'Cause he knows that it's me they've been comin' to see

To forget about life for a while

And the piano, it sounds like a carnival

And the room is filled with good cheer

And they sit at the bar and and don’t look too far

And say, "Man, thank you for being here"

Oh, la la la, di da da

La la, di da da da dum

Sing us a song, you're the bardic man

Sing us a song tonight

Well, we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' so bright”

#Theren #theren everwood #ravnica #Frostwing Meadery #asmund #mtg fanwalker #fanwalker

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zarra-kel · 7 years

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Zarra Kel was prepared for a long day of exploration. Ravnica was proving to be a very large city, and if how some of its residents spoke about it was true, a city so large it spanned the entire world. To one used to traveling the oceans and jungles of Zendikar in their youth, and the drownyards and mountains of Innistrad now, Ravnica seemed an impossibly confusing city that was difficult to navigate.

Zarra Kel had been prepared for a long day of exploration, but now their feet grew tired and they longed for a drink and possibly a warm meal. They saw a large marble building in the distance marked “Frostwing Meadery”, and Zarra supposed that was as good a place as any to get a drink. Wandering in, they were surprised by the pleasant temperature, a nice chill reminiscent of the waters just below the surface of oceans near Ondu.

They checked their satchel to ensure they had the native currency—zinos, Zarra was pretty sure—and nodded to themself to gather confidence. Spending money on a new plane was always a little nerve wracking, but the host they began walking towards seemed nice, if imposing.

@asmund-scion-of-ice

#long for the sake of exposition #ravnica #frostwing meadery #active rp #asmund scion of ice

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commander-petra · 6 years

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Petra took a short break from her open door day in the late afternoon to investigate this Frostwing Meadery. She had heard of this Asmund several times before, but knew very little of him.

“Salutations, I’m looking for an Asmund?” she called out as she entered the building.

( @asmund-scion-of-ice )

#you said whenever so i thought id send her before i forgot ^^#no rush on replying tho

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halonathewildone · 6 years

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@asmund-scion-of-ice

The hatchling dragon, Zirilit, had dropped the name Asmund during his and Halona’s conversation. It had taken her a little over a week to track down the name to the Frostwing Meadery, despite it only being a few blocks away from the Boros Legion. Enter through the smaller set of doors, she found hall warmer only cause it shielded her from the winter winds. She took a meandering route towards the bar, spinning every few paces just to catch another look at the meadery’s wonderful decor.

Nearing the bar, Halona skipped the last few steps by leaping into the stool. She didn’t order immediately, rather taking a moment to have good look at the bar’s selection.

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isolde-solstice · 6 years

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Isolde poked her head into the Frostwing.

“Asmund? Art thou about?” She called out, looking around the meadery.

( @asmund-scion-of-ice )

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bobstropajo · 6 years

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*Alek leads @ral-zarek-petty-guildmage to the Frostwing Meadery (@asmund-scion-of-ice). He makes Ral seat in one of the tables, away from anyone who's there, then goes to the bar*

Hello Asmund, would you give me a couple of ciders, please? I've got a... Friend... Over. Would you be kind enough and take a look over our table every now and then please?

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gardianforce · 7 years

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I hear tell you are feeling bored and whatnot. I could offer up a sparring match? Or even an ear just to listen to your troubles. -@boros-captain-adrian.

Maybe, but I just got a great idea. I could sing... at Frostwing Meadery! I just need @asmund-scion-of-ice to approve it.

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asmund-scion-of-ice · 6 years

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Rage

Icy blue turned purple as a furious shade of crimson overtook his vision. The ground quaked and the walls shook; icicles fell from the ceiling and glasses shattered. Sourceless whispers echoed darkly within the confines of his throbbing skull. Thieves! Burglars! his mind roared with anger and confusion. The world is yours and they took it from you! the voices whispered, tantalizing hate dripping with malicious pity. Rage against them! Freeze the plane solid! Take back what is yours!

Asmund had been filled only with rage. No hunger, no thirst, no weariness: only all-consuming anger. The foolish bard had been launched from Frostwing Meadery as the dragon raised a massive, glacial wall about his establishment. Buildings had collapsed about his icy fortress, and none had dared come close to Frostwing Meadery since. Much time had passed, though the dragon could not tell. He writhed in ecstatic wrath, the interior of his meadery well destroyed. Days, weeks, months: Asmund could not tell. The voice within only spoke of Jarguund and Ravnica, how his artifacts, his people, his worlds, had been stolen. A dark thread of magic had woven a tapestry of despair, of envy; it spoke of his daughter’s death, his failings as a father and a leader, and how he could take it all back.

Of course he listened. Asmund was relatively young for a dragon, and his emotions still were strong, unhoned bludgeons beating at his hearts. Reason had been overcome over the course of many months, and Asmund had taken the other’s quiet counsel. The imagined betrayal of Ivaria, the willing release of the original Astral Cornucopia to Theren, the warnings from the Boros, all added to the other’s whispers, sowing the seeds of doubt and anger. Asmund’s fears, envy, maliciousness, all blend together under the unending whispers.

The wish for them to stop. The hope the other had brought to him, of rule, of wealth and power. Conflicting thoughts and worries crisscrossed his mind, until that damned bard appeared. The tapestry of the other’s story became apparent, and the apparent work became reality. Thieves! Burglars! What more will you let them take?

Inside the meadery, Asmund rolled as his violet eyes rolled back. Tables crushed, wood sent flying, glasses crushed. The dragon had not been himself for a long while, but any of his friends would see how fall the Baron had fallen. Asmund was a shadow of his former self: gray-scaled, gaunt, covered in rime, mindlessly bellowing. Frozen pools of blood covered the meadery; in his rage, he had planeswalked across the multiverse, killing randomly, without thought or vision of what he was doing. Carcasses of man and beast littered the floor, uneaten, rent and crushed beneath the raging dragon.

When would the spell be lifted? A small part of Asmund’s mind feared, a tiny hatchling crying out in the murky waters of his consciousness; this tiny piece kept him from ravaging Ravnica or Jarguund, doing its best to contain him. Yet he mostly did not think at all, and only raged.

#i'm so sorry i've been away so long #i hope this makes up for it #rp #magic the gathering #asmund speaks #asmund #asmund frostwing #frostwing meadery #mt #magic: the gathering #magic #roleplay #ravnica #jarguund #rage #i miss roleplaying but my life has been so busy #i barely have time to even look at tumblr and reblog nowadays

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asmund-scion-of-ice · 6 years

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Brooding

Frostwing Meadery was quiet. A massive edifice of ice rose where the once proud shop front stood. No one came in or out. Inside, a dragon was brooding.

Asmund was lost deep in his own thoughts. His friends were betraying him. Evil, terrible thoughts swirled through his scaled head. Anger stirred in his hearts. If anyone could see the dragon, a deep black aura hung about him.

Theren had swindled him out of the Astral Cornucopia. Ivaria had disappeared, turned her back on him. Who was next? Asmund growled in anger and his tail again smashed into the now destroyed bar. His veritble fortress of ice echoed with his blind rage as mead and ales mixed with the pure blue ice.

A small voice whispered in the back of his mind, "You are better than them. A dragon. Strong, brilliant, more vibrant than the whitest of glaciers." Out loud, Asmund mumbled an agreement. The voice grew louder, "You could rule them. Show them how much more powerful you are. Turn the tide for dragons. Take Ravnica as your own, raze your enemies' wards to the ground." Asmund nodded his head. The sinister voice continued, "Weaken your foes. Rain destruction on your enemies, make them quake in fear and swear themselves to you... or wipe them from the multiverse." A deep, all-encompassing laughter echoed darkly in the devestated meadery. It wasn't Asmund's.

A pair of massive horns was visible as a small hole in reality opened by the angry dragon's face. A hot, sandy wind blew through the tear as a rumbling voice echoed, "You want them to know you are the greatest, do you not?"

#asmund #asmund frostwing #frostwing #frostwing meadery #short story #rp #magic #mtg #magic the gathering #mtg rp #magic the gathering rp #ravnica #meadery #grixis #losing his mind #going crazy #losing your mind #dragon

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asmund-scion-of-ice · 6 years

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Heatwave

Howling wind. Blistering sand. The scent of death. The calm blue sky belied the darkness that seemed to hover over the city. Great horns sat on the distant horizon. The shuffling dead and their insect overlords passed through Naktamun, uncaring. The city had fallen months ago, and Asmund had always hated the sight of it.

Putting his head down and gritting his teeth, the dragon pushed toward the city’s edge, the protective shield around the city no longer standing. The zombies paid him no heed; he was no enemy of theirs, and their singular purpose did not allow them such frivolities as thought. Asmund very much disliked the so-called deities of this world, and avoided them as he wove his way between buildings of sandstone and oddly beautiful monuments to the other, fallen, deities. Mummies worked as if Bolas’s purge had not occurred. Asmund harrumphed, exuding a sphere of cold; he had always hated this heat.

He had known the route to the God Pharaoh's Throne well, though fallen buildings and obelisks made the crossing slightly more difficult; hugging his wings to his side, he shivered at the thought of attempting to fly through the sand blasted air. The dragon’s feet worked well enough. Gingerly he stepped around squads of blue undead, their drill and precision a leftover from life; some magic he would consider learning, in the future. Asmund felt other life, now far into the desert, and another powerful being. Survivors, most likely, led by one of their gods. A secret to keep, though he knew it would be a struggle to keep.

Minutes passed as Asmund surveilled the damage the Hours had wrought. Though certainly not a casual stroll, he had not the time the last time he had come through; the insects and zombies were still raging, and his partner had been quite busy at the time. Now, however, Asmund came upon the great horned Elder, casually speaking with a man, the metal on his arm an annoying glint in the midday sun.

“Ah, Asmund, my old friend,” the Elder’s voice was calm, charming, very much like a mesmerizing serpent. “Come closer, so we may speak.” Asmund had little choice but to oblige. He climbed the steps to the metal throne, eyeing the other planeswalker. Tezzeret, if he recalled properly, bowed his head and quickly depart, the purples of the Blind Eternities taking him.

“It is good to see you, Bolas,” Asmund replied, his voice formal, measured. He dipped his head in acknowledgment as he sat before the throne. It was certainly a bold move, pretending they were equals. “I see you have accomplished much here,” Asmund continued, “though to what end, I am sure you will enlighten me.” Arching an eye crest, he swept a wing out to encompass the city. The hot air immediately bit into the soft membranes of his wing, causing the younger dragon to quickly bring it back to his body.

Nicol Bolas’s laugh echoed hollowly over the sands, “Indeed, Asmund, indeed. The fruits of my labors are nearly complete. I have so little time to execute my plan.” His voice turned morose, the horns on the horizon perfectly framing his own head and horns, “So little time, and there are far too many meddlers. If only I could stop all of them; if they were gathered all in one place, perhaps my plans could accelerate, and we would have far less to worry about.” Asmund kept his face clear of emotion as the Elder continued, “I have a favor to ask of you, old friend.”

Asmund sighed, puffing out his chest and doing his best to appear haughty, “My friend, the last time you asked me a favor you had me destroy a caravan. Gwafa Hazid was my greatest supplier on Bant, and he has since withdrawn any support for my own operations on Alara. What reason have I to aid you this time?” Gathering what mana he could from the sky around him, Asmund pressed his icy aura even further outward.

Nicol Bolas waved a dismissive claw, “Oh, please, young Asmund, your bravado was interesting two hundred years ago.” Asmund quickly deflate. “You only need not do anything,” the Elder eventually replied, his toothy smile doing nothing to hide his scheming tone. Asmund tilt his head inquisitively as Bolas explained, “I have business on Ravnica. Do not interfere upon my arrival. Your reward will be the power you have lost and more.” Bolas leaned forward, pushing effortlessly through Asmund’s aura, his sinister intentions dripping like poison from his tongue, “Your world will also be yours to command, and untouched by my claw.”

A few tense moments passed, and Nicol Bolas withdrew, reclining on his throne. A distant thunder rumbled over the sands; the Elder’s visage became more jovial, “You shall also receive the best goods from every world, without any charge, and the finest vineyards and hives will be yours. What say you?” The Elder dragon’s eyes narrowed as he studied Asmund’s face.

Though Asmund put on the face of an equal, he knew he was outmatched. He quickly acquiesced. “Very well,” the ice dragon replied, extending a claw, “I shall not interfere with you or your plans on Ravnica. On top of your promises, I only ask one thing.” Nicol Bolas leaned forward, curious. He rolled a claw, gesturing for Asmund to get on with it. The Baron nodded, “I request you leave my meadery there alone. I have grown quite fond of the 9th District.”

The two stared for a minute. Perhaps two. Then the Elder planeswalker laughed; an uproarious sound, echoing hollowly through the ruins of Naktamun. Eerily, thousands of voices joined, a haunting mix of moans and contemptuous laughter. Bolas held his chest armor with a claw, grinning wide, “You have my promise then, my friend.” The other dragon stood, prompting Asmund to stand as well; they grasped claws firmly. He put a claw on Asmund’s shoulder, “You shall rule there, too.”

Asmund’s head whipped around; Nicol Bolas was certainly offering a great many things. His mood was too good. Internally, the ice dragon sighed. There was little he could do, especially considering he was practically at Bolas’s beck and call. Though, thankfully, the Elder dragon did appear whenever Asmund had summoned him, so he supposed it was not a terrible arrangement.

“Now then,” Bolas continued, “I have many fruits and ingredients here that the local populace will no longer be using. As an offer of goodwill, they are yours. I expect to drink the fruit of your labors when I finally find you on Ravnica.” The Elder stroked his chin, “Now, my friend, I have much work to attend to. If you’ll excuse me, it is always excellent doing business with you.”

Asmund’s reply filtered through the quickly melting snow as he planeswalked away, “So it is.”

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asmund-scion-of-ice · 6 years

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Nighttime at Frostwing

Asmund sat quietly by the small hearth. The flames danced in his violet eyes as he stared down at the tiny blaze. Thoughts swam through the murky waters of his mind. Plans clashed, fit together, drifted into the dark recesses of his mind.

Bolas was on the move. Theren was dead. Ivaria had scorned his training. Asmund muttered in the empty meadery, his rumbling voice eerily echoing through the icy room. A great heap of artifacts sat by his side: a completed inter-planar teleportation device meant for Zia laying unused, a dragon sized crown made of mithril inlaid with sapphires, rubies, and onyx, an enchanted and engraved silver ring, and an ominous black horn.

Lost in thought, the dragon placed the crown upon his head. It was light, resting comfortably around his horns. Though he could not see, he knew he looked majestic and regal; a fitting image for a baron.

Asmund pushed Zia's gift to the side with a foreclaw, using his now empty right wingclaw to slide the ring on. A sudden surge of energy pulsed through him, and his thoughts grew darker. He harrumphed, pushing out his chest; Asmund's icy breath covered the wall above the hearth, forming a perfect mirror he could lose himself in.

The horn. Asmund lifted it curiously, it's terrible presence threatening to make him shake. A deep, black magic emanate from the horn. It was an ancient dragon's horn, curled menacingly, filled with blood. It whispered to him, promises of wealth and power echoing in the thickening fog of the dragon's mind. He resisted the temptation, placing it back on the floor, using a quick spell to send it back to Jarguund. Perhaps some other time.

Asmund flexed his wings and packaged Zia's gift. It was about time he brought it to her. He had been sealed away in his castle for too long. The cobwebs of his mind were threatening to become more. The dragon lifted himself and headed toward the exit.

He paused. It was night time. She would not be awake, most likely. Asmund cocked his head to the side and smiled. His form vanished in a great cloud of snow. The horn could talk to him. He would enjoy that.