The Thawing (Invite Only)

The warmth of the fire blanketed Gillam's cold and brittle skin. Warmth. It was a sensation the knight had not experienced in some time. His eyes flickered slowly open, melting the frost off of his eyes. He felt...out of place. Gillam didn't feel like he was meant to be wherever he was. His eyes registered bright colors, and the unfamiliarity of this hurt his eyes.

Gillam winced, closing his eyes again. He tried to remember what had happened. His spear, which was resting on the wall beside his bed, toppled to the floor with a clatter, and the memories came flooding back to him.

Noxians. Tons of them, too. Rank upon rank of the enemy upon him. His comrades, some dead, some dying. The white snow of the barren landscape was red with blood. What wasn't bloodied snow was a magical crater, still smoking from a powerful spell demolishing the ground around him. Gillam knew it. He was going to die.

He fled. Ran to a nearby cave and took shelter. Then... Gillam didn't remember any further than that. He suddenly sat upright, ignoring his aching bones, which felt like they were out of use. His unit! He would have probably been confirmed AWOL by now. If he returned, he would be locked up, persecution for desertion. Then again, he needed to find out what happened to his unit. Terrible thoughts came to mind. What if they lost the battle? What if they were dead?

What if they died because of him?

Those questions could wait. He needed to find out where he was. Gillam slowly turned his neck around, several muscles popping in the process. The Demacian cursed under his breath. He must of been injured badly.

Gillam observed his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of shack. The shack was well lit, and well furnished. A fireplace was on the wall next to Gillam's bed. Torches adorned the walls, and a rug lay in the center of the floor. Across the room, there was a wooden table, with some food and supplies resting on top of it.

Just then, the door opened, letting in the icy air of Freljord for a brief moment, before closing again. A man, most likely a Freljord nomad, stopped in to the room. Gillam jumped in surprise, popping several more muscles in the process.

"Oh, you're awake!" The nomad said, smiling. He sat down next to the bed.

"Am...am I alright?" Gillam asked, stinging his severely dry lips.

"You should be fine. Just some minor scratches and bruises. Nothing too serious. It was a marvel that you were still breathing in that wall of ice, though!"

"Wait...I was frozen?" Gillam asked, stunned. How long was he asleep for?

"Apparently, at least that's what Nunu told me. Anyways, I'm off. He should be here shortly." The nomad quickly scooped up the items on the table, then exited the shack as quickly as he had entered. Gillam sat up. The nomad had answered very few of his questions, and created even more mysterious ones. Who is Nunu? How long was he frozen?

Gilam sighed, then laid back down, irritating more joints in his body. Hopefully this Nunu character would clear things up.

Gillam was surprised to see a child enter the shack and greet him. He raised an eyebrow in a quizzical expression. If this was Nunu, Gillam was not sure if he could answer any of his questions, much less some. When he asked the question, Gillam began to speak, but then was interrupted, saying that he was a soldier, and then began rummaging through his pack.

Gillam tried to stop him, but the child interrupted once again, claiming that he was Noxian. He could understand this discrepancy. Gillam had probably swiped a Noxian emblem off the ground unintentionally while fleeing the skirmish. He continued to ramble on about the Void. He had only heard tales of the place, but they were not pretty ones.

Nunu (at least Gillam thought this child was Nunu) stated his policy about soldiers, but what caught his attention in the sentence was the mentioning of the "Institute of War". The knight had never heard of such a place, and, if Nunu assumed he was a Noxian, he certainly didn't want to find out. The child then snatched the Noxian sword he also found at the site of the battle. He didn't pay much attention to this, however, because just then the tent shook.

The child said one word, presumably a name, then dashed outside. Gillam shot up in his bed. Whatever was out there was surely going to kill that child! Gillam had to save him.

Gillam jumped out of bed, picking up his lance and his buckler. Ignoring the massive amounts of aching and sores he had, Gillam charged outside, and saw the child and a yeti fighting a pack of wolves.

The Demacian's fighting instincts took over. He ran up to the wolf closest to the child, and ran his lance straight through his body. The wolf's eyes went dead before Gillam had focused on his next target. He used his buckler to bash one of the wolves down into the ground, rendering him useless. The other wolves got his message, and fled into the snowy landscape.

Gillam looked at the child. "You seem like a smart kid, but you should know better than to face a pack of wolves on your own." The knight paused, inhaling the cold, dry air, before continuing. "Now, where is the rest of my unit?" Gillam asked. Hopefully, he would get at least this question answered.

Gillam had to think for a moment, before replying to the child. "I believe I was in unit 226, of the Northern Demacian Army. It all seems like so long ago, though... even though it just happened yesterday..."

Gillam frowned. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious, but he'd assumed that it had been only one day. Gillam's eyes widened in realization. What if it had been a week? Two? Maybe even a month? Gillam couldn't let this go unanswered.

"Um, just for clarification, how long was I frozen for?" Gillam asked, nervously pacing back and forth in the snow.