Hypothermia isn't a concern when you're made of metal.[Completed]

[Strazio Rockwell]

Miserable was never more an apt word to describe Valerie. He trundled through shin-high snow at a pace that would have put glaciers to shame. Overhead clouds roiled and fumed, ready to unleash their payload of ice and sleet at a moment’s notice. A groan escaped from the mage’s lips and he pulled his cloak tighter to his body. He cursed himself for leaving the safety, and more importantly the warmth, of Jade’s tower. It was with a childlike hope that he left with the assumption that he could brave the frozen wastes alone. A tongue of wind lapped at his bare cheeks and he shivered. Arctic survival was a weak point of his. Having spent most of his life in forests and jungles Valerie was no more equipped to deal with the cold than a deep sea diver was equipped to deal with the Sahara.

“Oh melancholy,” Val muttered after a particularly violent whip of wind.

Something growled. At first Valerie assumed it was a shifting of distance snow, a deep rumbling created by the earth adjusting itself. This was not the case. Another growl, this time closer. The verdant mage twirled around and came face-to-face with a drooling maw. A beast towered above him, vaguely humanoid and covered in snow-packed grey fur. Its arms and legs were thick with muscle and their digits ended in sharp black talons. A set of chompers, stained yellow and sharpened to needle points, snarled at the mage. Valerie held up his hands, shook his head, and shuffled backwards. The beast lumbered towards him, still growling

“Salutations,” Valerie said, “sorry to intrude upon your territory, I’m merely pass-”

Valerie had no chance to finish his sentence. The beast lunged towards him. Its body was a massive bulk of fur and sharp bits. A massive paw slammed into Val’s side, tossing him onto his ass and carving a line of blood into his arm. He yelped. Green blood trickled from his wounds and stained the powdery snow. The abominable creature roared and stomped towards its prey. Val raised his hand as if asking the creature to stop. His skin twisted and writhed as if large earth worms were burrowing through his flesh. With a sound like spooling cables thorn-covered vines erupted from beneath the skin on Valerie’s arm. The wriggling trailers wrapped tight around the beast, snaring it in their ropey embrace. Thick muscles strained against the vine’s grip, but the yeti’s strength was no match for the squiggling huggers.  Once he was certain that his new friend was properly subdued, Valerie stood.

“My apologies ferocious one,” he mused, “while I am certain it is with hunger, not malice, that you attack me today, I’ve no intention on becoming your feast.”

The furbeast roared.

“Do not fret,” Valerie continued, wagging a finger at the animal, “with nothing to sustain them, your temporary prison will wither and die within the hour, then you will be free to prowl and feast upon another traveler.”

Once again the animal roared.

“At any rate I must abscond from this dreadfully frozen place,” the mage said and waved to the furry creature, “farewell, and the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

The beast roared.

Valerie smiled -- it was a good talk.

With a flourish of his hand the mage performed a pirouette and trudged away from his assailant. His arm pulsed and ached as droplets of emerald blood dripped from his wound. The oncoming bruise was more a concern than the shallow lacerations, and the oncoming blizzard superseded both of them. Gentle flecks of snow drifted downwards and melted on contact with Val’s skin. It wouldn’t be much longer before the Frozen Fields unleashed its proper fury. Valerie cursed his absent sense of direction, how far away from the gate had he traveled? For all he knew it could be over the next hill. Not that it necessarily mattered, every hill and snowdrift looks alike. A desert of white, accented by towering mountains and a black figure on the horizon. Val froze, not literally, but he froze in the sense that he stopped moving and focused his gaze towards the bulky figure on the horizon. A thin smile slipped across Valerie’s lips as he caught sight of another warm body in this field of frost. With little trepidation the mage picked up his pace, hoping to catch up to the lumbering figure.

As Valerie closed upon the traveler he noticed that he was clad from head to toe in iron. He looked reminiscent of the golems from Val’s own world, but the being lacked any sort of wrangler so that thought was quickly discarded. On his shoulders the armored man carried two carcasses, one of a wolf and the other too mangled to identify. Congealed clumps of blood clung frozen to the man’s pauldrons, a fact that he seemed none too bothered by. The metallic traveler moved at a machine-like pace not even pausing to catch its breath. Something about his gait was off, he seemed no more encumbered by the armor than Valerie was by his own skin. This wasn’t entirely unexpected. Magick seemed to be prolific in this Omniverse and it wouldn’t have been surprising if the traveler’s armor was enchanted to make it as light as a feather. Valerie grinned and rushed towards the man, stopping several yards behind the armored centurion.

“Salutations!” Valerie shouted, provoking the man to stop and turn around.

Once Val was sure he held the man’s attention he bowed. If one word was used to describe Valerie’s ensemble, asides from “ill-prepared-for-the-fucking-cold”, it would have to be “green”. Everything he wore was bathed in spring colors, mostly different hues of green, but the occasional yellow or orange made an appearance. His dress-like cloak was an explosion of verdant shades and flowery designs, still present despite several rips and tears in the cloth. Even his hair was a pale tinge of green, along with his very flesh. As he spoke his hands moved of their own accord, dancing to the beat of an invisible drum. It was a sort of nonverbal tic of his, the constant motion of his hands during speech. There was no rhyme or reason to the movements and they seemed to happen involuntarily, something about his words forced his fingers to become dancers.

“I’m sure it is a great pleasure to meet you metal-clad traveler, my name is Valerie LaMolla, you may call me Val if you wish,” Valerie paused for a moment and offered a feminine hand to shake with. His fingernails were well-manicured and painted with a green polish that was now cracked in several places. It took him a moment to realize that the man couldn’t shake hands, as his were busy carrying the two carcasses perched upon his shoulders. Valerie pulled back his hand and continued in enthusiastic tones, “I seem to have become quite lost in this dreaded tundra, and I was hoping that you would allow me to accompany you in your journey, well, at least until I retrieve my bearings.”