The air is frigid. Snow falls steadily, coating the ground with a stark whiteness that is blinding. The morning has come, and the sun peaks slowly over the horizon. Beams of warmth spear the Petrified Forest. Naggaroth is waking. Signs of life break free from the banks of snow in the form of greenery, rodent-size animals become active, birds begin their songs, and the air warms. As the snow loosens with the warmth, a low but carrying sound is heard. A chanting in a language unknown is reaching out, calling. Sudden shivers originating from beneath snow cause breaks, and then explosions. Throughout the forest mounds of white erupt in a shower of packed snow and debris. Large, muscular forms stand in place, taking in the surroundings. Scaled bodies rotate joints and warm the appendages. Rippling muscles and vicious teeth move in anticipation of what's to come. A small opening in an embankment comes to life, voices pouring from it with such fervor and fury, it warms all who listen. Something magical is infused with the words, causing icy blood to flow with fire. The Icebloods have awoken... Long displaced form their southern cousins dwelling in Lustria, the Icebloods have adapted to the frigid winters of Naggarond in the Petrified Forest. For centuries their home has been this desolate and bleak land, with densely packed trees. The trees have been here for centuries, seemingly petrified, they have a grey hue to their bark. No lush vegetation covers the ground as it did in Lustria, but rather sparse and hardy bushes coat the forest floor. Everything here is cold and hard. Adapted to a life under harsh conditions, the occupants of the Forest had ice coursing through their life's veins. Several months in hibernation takes time to awaken from, and has made them lethargic and slow to respond. But with spell-induced warmth making its way through their iced bodies, in mere minutes the effects of the frost will wear away. Filing out of the opening in the embankment, smaller and more lithe figures emerged. The entrance to a now buried temple can be made out in minor detail beneath the snows. Having spent their time below ground, the crest-headed specimens each carried several obsidian-colored items; clubs, spears, swords, and shields. All glittered with a deadliness that put any form of denial that their effectiveness was lacking out of one's mind. There was no doubt as to the purpose of the equipment. The smaller brethren approached their larger, more ponderous kin. Although slow to awaken, the massive ones could move with a speed of a river croc at a moments notice. All movement was slow, conserving energy, packing it away for immediate action. The silence of the air was gone, instead replaced with a steady roll of hissing and shuffling. Donning their gear, the Lizardmen of the Icebloods looked resplendent. Their pale white scales providing a stark contrast to their grey and ebon hued gear. Then a silence rolls across the mass, an expectant hush settles. A single set of steady, heavy, and menacing steps approach the assembled Lizardmen... The crowd parts, and a figure towering over the rest by half a meter walks the opening. At the end of his path, three Skink Priests stand ready, bearing ornate relics of the Icebloods. A decorative sword, detailed with gold images that told the story of their people is bestowed upon him. His arm held wide, the immense obsidian shield is ceremoniously strapped to his arm. The shield is festooned with the symbol of the Icebloods, a sacred symbol that gleams when the sun's rays catch it. Finally, ornaments of battle; bracers and a helm are placed with practiced precision upon the Champion. Once the final pieces are in place, a bestial roar erupts from his powerful jaws. It fills the air and carries for miles around, warning the inhabitants of the Petrified Forest that the Icebloods have awoken and they hunger... Just started these guys after several years of putting them on the back burner. No real details done, just skin, scales, teeth and claws. Thoughts?