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Description
“
And in an unknown language, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Even more than the men in front of him, what he felt in his gut shocked him. First it was a wind. Polar, carrying ice crystals that scratched his skin, he preceded something even more terrible. Taymir had lowered her arms, and with her palms facing the sky, her lips drew a litany.. the name of Andraste curiously found its echo in the hearts of others.
Then the storm arrived.
The clamor of the wind was suddenly drowned out by screams and the sound of shocked and dented metal, torn fabric and destroyed flesh. Immense and pitiless stalagmites rose towards the sky obscured by smoke and sulfur. The pure, transparent ice was stained with blood and that red lyrium that people kept talking about; the red mages were dying, one after the other, impaled or locked in these gigantic blocks of frozen water. The rage and the blows of the sledgehammer against the polished surface did nothing, just smiled at the young woman who stood stiff and dignified.
It was magnificent, lit by the flaming rockets launched into the sky and by the fires burning on the wooden ramparts. Her blond hair blazed, free of all constraint and floating in this artificial and infernal wind; a look of satisfaction floated on her face, a sovereign joy when she saw the teams passing freely within this forest of ice to join the trebuchets still available.

‘

Taymir doesn’t play nice anymore. Touch the people she cares about and she’ll impale you on shards of ice.
((Hi I’m channeling my current angst through Taymir ❄️))

Description
“
And in an unknown language, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Even more than the men in front of him, what he felt in his gut shocked him. First it was a wind. Polar, carrying ice crystals that scratched his skin, he preceded something even more terrible. Taymir had lowered her arms, and with her palms facing the sky, her lips drew a litany.. the name of Andraste curiously found its echo in the hearts of others.
Then the storm arrived.
The clamor of the wind was suddenly drowned out by screams and the sound of shocked and dented metal, torn fabric and destroyed flesh. Immense and pitiless stalagmites rose towards the sky obscured by smoke and sulfur. The pure, transparent ice was stained with blood and that red lyrium that people kept talking about; the red mages were dying, one after the other, impaled or locked in these gigantic blocks of frozen water. The rage and the blows of the sledgehammer against the polished surface did nothing, just smiled at the young woman who stood stiff and dignified.
It was magnificent, lit by the flaming rockets launched into the sky and by the fires burning on the wooden ramparts. Her blond hair blazed, free of all constraint and floating in this artificial and infernal wind; a look of satisfaction floated on her face, a sovereign joy when she saw the teams passing freely within this forest of ice to join the trebuchets still available.

‘

Taymir doesn’t play nice anymore. Touch the people she cares about and she’ll impale you on shards of ice.
((Hi I’m channeling my current angst through Taymir ❄️))