[Closed canon. Entry by invite only.]
What a time to be alive in the North.
Much unlike the weather, conflicts across the continent are heating up; marauding caribou are commonplace, and racial tensions are still widespread. Disharmony and distrust make any sort of cooperation difficult, and the caribou can do as they please and face very few consequences. The future for the past century has looked grim, but now, there are sparks of hope.
There is talk of the High Chief, and how he is on the move to the front on the Taiga. There are utterances of more Southerners, come to do the unthinkable to the North: spread harmony. Though many do nothing short of laugh at such pretensions, it seems they've left their impact. The members of the Council of Three have isolated themselves from the public, and refuse to so much as heed a herald for the time being. Where they've trodden, a confusing mix of death, love, hate, curiosity, and harmony has followed.
In the mix, a new band of adventurers has formed. From across the vast reaches of the North they are, united as one to stand against that which threatens their homeland as a whole. Word has spread fast about such an attempt at cooperation, and all that hear about it regard it with curiosity. Some regard it with anger. Others, still, raise an eyebrow. But, most important of all, some feel a low sense of hope. Inspiration is a rare thing in this land; it took the hooves (or paws) of six brave adventurers from afar and abroad to create a small spark. If they keep this up, this spark will turn into a flame.
This is the dawn of a new age. However, the sun may not yet shine; the sky must be clear of clouds first.
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