Compendium Entry
East: Russian Tundra
West: Alaskan & Canadian Tundra

These lands are primarily cold and barren with temperatures dipping low into the negatives during winter months. Summer months are just warm enough for growth to occur, though most foliage includes grasses, moss, or low shrubs. Precipitation here is low year round, though in warmer months water may saturate the upper levels of the cold ground forming ponds or other water sources.

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Early Morning Sunny/Clear


Silence fell over the frosted evergreens as the sun peaked over the mountainous edge of the horizon. Naught but a quiet whisper of the wind could be heard, and the snow below that littered the forest floor remained untouched. And above it flew the corvid, a pleasantly mottled mixture of black and white that slid through the canopy with practiced ease. The sun warmed his back as he eagerly stretched his wings, lifting higher and darting left to right in an effort to wake the sleep from his limbs.

Icy eyes peered with precision down into the quiet forest below, searching for his brother ... his master ... his wolf kin. But he realized that the canopy was different than what he was used to. He knew every curve of the trees from the forest back home, but these trees seemed different. In fact, as he looked to the misted mountain range to the north, he realized the way the mountains peeked and curved was also different. Confusion touched him for a moment as he released a gruff, clacking caw into the silent air as if to call upon his familiars.

But he was met with nothing.

Munin angled his wings, shifting downward toward the canopy before gracefully landing on an exposed branch of an evergreen tree. Ruffling his feathers, he cawed again, head pivoting and beak clacking as he explored the unfamiliar terrain with iced-over eyes. Alone. Perhaps he'd been sent somewhere new to gather information ... or perhaps his master wished for him to find something ... someone new. The bird shifted on the branch, talons clicking on the icy bark as he pondered what he must do. Find a new master. Find new friends. Deliver information. Revive the Memory

And perhaps have a bit of fun doing it.

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The snow was no place for a bird. Their feathers froze in the harsh winds and left their bodies buried in the dunes of snow, left to rot until spring leaving nothing but bare bones. For Crow and Caw it was just another place. His dark coating contrasting heavily with the white surroundings as the wolf cut through the snow with ease, bell chiming around his neck in a soft tune as he waltz ungracefully through the cold. Caw sat on his neck, nestled warmly on his nape for now until something would catch his interest.

Which something eventually did. Distant cawing catching both corvid and canid's attention as ears and head twisted to the direction, Caw flapping up into the skies to follow the cries while Crow trotted quickly to follow his companion. 

The first to arrive was Caw, naturally. Grotesque, guttural cawing followed as he called out to the other bird in some kind of greeting from his own branch. Normally his kind weren't ones to travel alone. Even Caw had Crow as his family, though he did miss having other corvidae with him, to fly with him on the same wind - he was doing just fine as well.

Speaking of which, Crow eventually found the loud duo. Looking up from below the branch to the strange white and black plumaged bird as it was something he had never seen before. Curiously his head fell to one side in a tilt with the bell ringing once more with the movement after finally settling with his brisk travelling. 

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The corvid did not sit alone for long, his incessant clacking and cawing eventually luring in some company. It was easy to spot the canine in the distance, for his ebony coat stuck out like a sore thumb from the almost ethereally pure puffs of ermine snow. The motion was slow, but certainly not calculated ... as if this wolf simply wandered here for no reason at all. Was this wolf, too, a collector of information? Was he curious to explore what lay in the desolate, beautiful frozen wasteland? Or was he aimless? Dull? Hmm. Wolves did often prove themselves to be of lesser intelligence than his kind (a bit more feral and emotional, if you asked him), but Munin didn't want to judge his new company too strongly yet.

And so, he waited patiently, watching then as the singular body shifted into two forms. Blue eyes blinked in what one would imagine was an emote of surprise, his beak snapping on the crisp air as the new bird peeled itself from the wolf and began flapping toward him. It was as if his feathers had been formed from the very fur of the wolf, a small shadow lifting effortlessly into the cold white air. The strange crow approached, landing in a nearby branch, and Munin could not help but ruffle his feathers in a bit of curious excitement. This crow had a wolf. A wolf-kin. A companion.

Ah, how Munin missed his brother and his own wolf-kin.

"Greetings, stranger," he cawed, speaking in their native tongue. As the wolf approached them, Munin's fluffy neck tilted toward him, the high-pitched ringing of a bell catching his attention. The sun shimmered off of the gold bell in such an alluring way that the bird almost lifted off in that very moment to go steal the trinket. But he was certainly more civilized than that. Beak turned back toward the crow. "Is he your wolf-kin?" The word wolf-kin was exactly as it sounded, a canine that acted like family. As Kin. As blood. "I like his trinket," he added mischievously, spreading his impressive wing-span and flapping at the air excitedly.

Perhaps this duo had some information for him about this strange land and what it all meant.

And if not, perhaps he could make some new friends instead.

"speaking corvid" "speaking common"

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