Glaive’s third ancestor brings his ice-axe to the Halcyon Fold!

‘PREHISTORIC GLAIVE’ TIER III ART

Now you can play as Glaive’s fiercest ancestor, whose strikes summon unbreakable ice!

PREHISTORIC GLAIVE: THE LORE

The summit of the mountain had been cleared and the circled stones consecrated with sacred signs and symbols hundreds of winters past. Glaive entered the circle on the longest night, dazed from the altitude and the day’s climb. The stars spread overhead in magnificent twists that spiraled on themselves in his woozy vision.

He built a small fire in the center and threw rare herbs into the flames. Sitting within the puffs of fragrant smoke, inhaling deep into his belly, he sang in his mother’s tongue:

I am of my ancestors,

Ah! Ah!

I am of my ancestors.

Guide me, Glaives before,

Come! Come!

Guide me, Glaives before.

I am of my ancestors,

Ah! Ah!

I am of my ancestors.

Guide me…

When the words had become meaningless to his dazzled mind, he felt the presence of others. “Announce yourselves,” said Glaive, gripping the axe at his belt.

“I am Glaive, who cleared the scourge of sickle-clawed raptors,” gruffed the first.

“I am Glaive, who destroyed the White Mammoth,” snarled the second.

“And I am Glaive, who defeated the firewyrm that gnawed the roots of the elder tree,” hissed the third. “For what have you summoned us?”

Glaive stood, gripping his axe. “Ancestors, great tales are told of your hunts, and we keep your trophies sacred. But the Kall Peaks have been tamed by those gone before. The Grangor live in peace. How will I earn my place in the hunt of my ancestors after my death?”

“You must travel beyond the territory of the Grangor,” said the first.

“You will be the first to collect trophies from the outside world.” said the second.

“There is a place faraway where battles are waged for the rights to a powerful well,” said the third. “You must sail to the Halcyon Fold.”

Glaive shuddered. “I do not like the water.”

The ancestors chuckled.

“We are always with you,” assured the third.

Glaive nodded. “My thanks, ancestors. I will heed your guidance.”

At dawn, Glaive began his trek down to the port of Trostan.

THOUGHTS FROM CHAINSAW, SUPER EVIL ART DIRECTOR:

Prehistoric Glaive’s Tier III skin went this direction because I wanted to see the strongest and most logical expression of what Glaive is: a cave cat hunter. Tier III is all about his ice axe. This ice is not fragile. It’s threatening; it crushes. I thought of Glaive creating this weapon out of a chunk of the heart of a glacier, at the base of which is a halcyon well that imbues the ice with power. Then I realized: Oh! That’s the name of the weapon: Heart of the North. With that axe, he was able to destroy the firewyrm.