⒈ Charging Elk Poem

Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He Berman Museum Of Art Museum Analysis shall mingle with their dust, But, from his sires and kindred thrust, Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe. Sure, it might have better Charging Elk Poem in longer barrels but Charging Elk Poem is not to say it must be shot from long barrels only. Sun bear H. The team investigates the Charging Elk Poem to discover he used sterilization techniques on Cheyenne women, under the guise of routine surgeries. He discovered James was in on the cattle Charging Elk Poem and killed him, and he decides to end his own life and tries to take Dunwood with him by crashing his car.

Elk charge after bull hit

His limbs were cast in manly could For hardy sports or contest bold; And though in peaceful garb arrayed, And weaponless except his blade, His stately mien as well implied A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armor bode the shore. Slighting the petty need he showed, He told of his benighted road; His ready speech flowed fair and free, In phrase of gentlest courtesy, Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland Less used to sue than to command. Awhile the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open still To wildered wanderers of the hill. A wanderer, here by fortune toss, My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair, Have ever drawn your mountain air, Till on this lake's romantic strand I found a fey in fairy land!

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, Lie dead beneath the birchen way; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, That tasselled horn so gayly gilt, That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron plumage trim, And yon two hounds so dark and grim. He bade that all should ready be To grace a guest of fair degree; But light I held his prophecy, And deemed it was my father's horn Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne. The stranger smiled: — 'Since to your home A destined errant-knight I come, Announced by prophet sooth and old, Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, I 'll lightly front each high emprise For one kind glance of those bright eyes. Permit me first the task to guide Your fairy frigate o'er the tide. Nor frequent does the bright oar break The darkening mirror of the lake, Until the rocky isle they reach, And moor their shallop on the beach.

The stranger viewed the shore around; 'T was all so close with copsewood bound, Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there, Until the mountain maiden showed A clambering unsuspected road, That winded through the tangled screen, And opened on a narrow green, Where weeping birch and willow round With their long fibres swept the ground. Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, Some chief had framed a rustic bower. It was a lodge of ample size, But strange of structure and device; Of such materials as around The workman's hand had readiest found.

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height, The sturdy oak and ash unite; While moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees overhead Their slender length for rafters spread, And withered heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural portico was seen, Aloft on native pillars borne, Of mountain fir with bark unshorn Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine The ivy and Idaean vine, The clematis, the favored flower Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, And every hardy plant could bear Loch Katrine's keen and searching air.

An instant in this porch she stayed, And gayly to the stranger said: 'On heaven and on thy lady call, And enter the enchanted hall! To his bold brow his spirit rushed, But soon for vain alarm he blushed When on the floor he saw displayed, Cause of the din, a naked blade Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; For all around, the walls to grace, Hung trophies of the fight or chase: A target there, a bugle here, A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, With the tusked trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died, And there the wild-cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns, Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; Pennons and flags defaced and stained, That blackening streaks of blood retained, And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, With otter's fur and seal's unite, In rude and uncouth tapestry all, To garnish forth the sylvan hall.

The wondering stranger round him gazed, And next the fallen weapon raised:— Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and swayed, 'I never knew but one,' he said, 'Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field. The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame, Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court, To whom, though more than kindred knew, Young Ellen gave a mother's due.

Meet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid That hospitality could claim, Though all unasked his birth and name. Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestioned turn the banquet o'er At length his rank the stranger names, 'The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James; Lord of a barren heritage, Which his brave sires, from age to age, By their good swords had held with toil; His sire had fallen in such turmoil, And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand.

This morning with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, Lost his good steed, and wandered here. Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. Well showed the elder lady's mien That courts and cities she had seen; Ellen, though more her looks displayed The simple grace of sylvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Showed she was come of gentle race. Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; Or Ellen, innocently gay, Turned all inquiry light away:— 'Weird women we! We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our spells we cast; While viewless minstrels touch the string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.

Song Soldier, rest! In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. She paused,—then, blushing, led the lay, To grace the stranger of the day. Her mellow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. Song Continued. Huntsman, rest! The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed, Was there of mountain heather spread, Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And dreamed their forest sports again.

But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrance round his head; Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes: His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake; Now leader of a broken host, His standard falls, his honor's lost. Then,—from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night! They come, in dim procession led, The cold, the faithless, and the dead; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view,— O were his senses false or true? Dreamed he of death or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now? At length, with Ellen in a grove He seemed to walk and speak of love; She listened with a blush and sigh, His suit was warm, his hopes were high.

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp: The phantom's sex was changed and gone, Upon its head a helmet shone; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage, stern and hoar, To Ellen still a likeness bore. The hearth's decaying brands were red And deep and dusky lustre shed, Half showing, half concealing, all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the stranger fixed his eye Where that huge falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose and sought the moonshine pure.

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom Wasted around their rich perfume; The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm; The aspens slept beneath the calm; The silver light, with quivering glance, Played on the water's still expanse,— Wild were the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray! He felt its calm, that warrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast:— 'Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race? Can I not mountain maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand? Can I not frame a fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme? I'll dream no more,— by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resigned.

My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more. In latter times, it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these last forty or fifty years. Hubert's breed These are the hounds which the abbots of St. Hubert haue always kept some of their race or kind, in honour or remembrance of the saint, which was a hunter with S. London, For the death stroke, and death halloo At all times the task was dangerous, and to be adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watching an opportunity to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the sword.

The reader will therefore be pleased to remember, that the scene of this poem is laid in a time, "When tooming faulds, or sweeping of a glen, Had still been held the deed of gallant men. It is called in Gaelic Taishi-taraugh, from Taish, an unreal or shadowy appearance; and those possessed of the faculty are called Taishatrin, which may be aptly translated visionaries. One of these last gave refuge to the unfortunate Charles Edward, in his perilous wanderings after the battle of Culloden.

The first is well known to the admirers of Ariosto, by the name of Ferrau. Ascapart, or Ascabart, makes a very material figure in the History of Bevis of Hampton, by whom he was conquered. Feuds were so frequent among them, that a contrary rule would, in many cases, have produced the discovery of some circumstance, which might have excluded the guest from the benefit of the assistance he stood in need of. At what period these instruments ceased to be used, is not on record; and tradition is silent on this head. How it happened that the noisy and inharmonious bagpipe banished the soft and expressive harp, we cannot say; but certain it is, that the bagpipe is now the only instrument that obtains universally in the Highland districts.

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar? There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,— "Now tread we a measure!

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, " 'Twere better by far To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? Like 3 13 Clever job Great Great post Like 3. Time rolls his ceaseless course.

The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be! How few, all weak and withered of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from out sight! Yet live there still who can remember well, How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff; and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew; And fast the faithful clan around him drew.

What time the warning note was keenly wound, What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced like a meteor, round. The Summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy The mountain-shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest; In bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye.

The water-lily to the light Her chalice reared of silver bright; The doe awoke, and to the lawn, Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn; The gray mist left the mountain-side, The torrent showed its glistening pride; Invisible in flecked sky The lark sent clown her revelry: The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; In answer cooed the cushat dove Her notes of peace and rest and love.

No thought of peace, no thought of rest, Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. With sheathed broadsword in his hand, Abrupt he paced the islet strand, And eyed the rising sun, and laid His hand on his impatient blade. Beneath a rock, his vassals' care Was prompt the ritual to prepare, With deep and deathful meaning fraught; For such Antiquity had taught Was preface meet, ere yet abroad The Cross of Fire should take its road. The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast;— Such glance the mountain eagle threw, As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, She spread her dark sails on the wind, And, high in middle heaven reclined, With her broad shadow on the lake, Silenced the warblers of the brake.

A heap of withered boughs was piled, Of juniper and rowan wild, Mingled with shivers from the oak, Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. Brian the Hermit by it stood, Barefooted, in his frock and hood. His grizzled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair; His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, The scars of frantic penance bore. That monk, of savage form and face The impending danger of his race Had drawn from deepest solitude Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. Not his the mien of Christian priest, But Druid's, from the grave released Whose hardened heart and eye might brook On human sacrifice to look; And much, 't was said, of heathen lore Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er.

The hallowed creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse. No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer His cave the pilgrim shunned with care, The eager huntsman knew his bound And in mid chase called off his hound;' Or if, in lonely glen or strath, The desert-dweller met his path He prayed, and signed the cross between, While terror took devotion's mien. Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. His mother watched a midnight fold, Built deep within a dreary glen, Where scattered lay the bones of men In some forgotten battle slain, And bleached by drifting wind and rain.

It might have tamed a warrior's heart To view such mockery of his art! The knot-grass fettered there the hand Which once could burst an iron band; Beneath the broad and ample bone, That bucklered heart to fear unknown, A feeble and a timorous guest, The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; There the slow blindworm left his slime On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; And there, too, lay the leader's skull Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, For heath-bell with her purple bloom Supplied the bonnet and the plume.

All night, in this sad glen the maid Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade: She said no shepherd sought her side, No hunter's hand her snood untied. Yet ne'er again to braid her hair The virgin snood did Alive wear; Gone was her maiden glee and sport, Her maiden girdle all too short, Nor sought she, from that fatal night, Or holy church or blessed rite But locked her secret in her breast, And died in travail, unconfessed. Alone, among his young compeers, Was Brian from his infant years; A moody and heart-broken boy, Estranged from sympathy and joy Bearing each taunt which careless tongue On his mysterious lineage flung.

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale To wood and stream his teal, to wail, Till, frantic, he as truth received What of his birth the crowd believed, And sought, in mist and meteor fire, To meet and know his Phantom Sire! In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, The cloister oped her pitying gate; In vain the learning of the age Unclasped the sable-lettered page; Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his mind. Eager he read whatever tells Of magic, cabala, and spells, And every dark pursuit allied To curious and presumptuous pride; Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung, And heart with mystic horrors wrung, Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men.

The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the spectre's child. Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, He watched the wheeling eddies boil, Jill from their foam his dazzled eyes Beheld the River Demon rise: The mountain mist took form and limb Of noontide hag or goblin grim; The midnight wind came wild and dread, Swelled with the voices of the dead; Far on the future battle-heath His eye beheld the ranks of death: Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, Shaped forth a disembodied world.

One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind; The only parent he could claim Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream; Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast Of charging steeds, careering fast Along Benharrow's shingly side, Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride; The thunderbolt had split the pine,— All augured ill to Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and came to show The signals of impending woe, And now stood prompt to bless or ban, As bade the Chieftain of his clan. Patient the sickening victim eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb, Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender crosslet framed with care, A cubit's length in measure due; The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross thus formed he held on high, With wasted hand and haggard eye, And strange and mingled feelings woke, While his anathema he spoke:— IX. Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, But, from his sires and kindred thrust, Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe. The shout was hushed on lake and fell, The Monk resumed his muttered spell: Dismal and low its accents came, The while he scathed the Cross with flame; And the few words that reached the air, Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer.

But when he shook above the crowd Its kindled points, he spoke aloud:— 'Woe to the wretch who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready spear! For, as the flames this symbol sear, His home, the refuge of his fear, A kindred fate shall know; Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame, And infamy and woe. And cursed be the meanest shed That o'er shall hide the houseless head We doom to want and woe!

And the gray pass where birches wave On Beala-nam-bo. Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his laboring breath he drew, While, with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobeyed. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood He quenched among the bubbling blood.

Even as a child, Braum was much larger than other Freljordian youngsters, but his mother taught him never to use his size to intimidate or bully. She came from a proud line of herders, and believed true courage lay in using one's power not to dominate, but to protect those in need. When Braum was still a boy, ice giants devastated a neighboring tribe. That tribe had long preyed upon the herds of Braum's people, but his mother didn't hesitate to head out across the tundra to help the survivors, bearing furs, foodstuffs, and healing supplies.

At first, Braum didn't understand why she would aid their rivals—but after her actions saved many lives, they became lifelong allies. He finally understood what his mother meant when she said all the Freljord's people were a family, and from that day forth, he pledged to bring that family together. As Braum grew, it was clear he was one of the revered Iceborn, though even among their number, his strength and ability to endure the elements were legendary. He became a local hero, rescuing children who had slipped into icy ravines, saving travelers stranded in blizzards, and protecting families from ravaging wildclaws.

Whenever he appeared, people knew help had arrived. He was a figure of hope, known for his liveliness and laughter, and the easy way he made friends. Eventually, Braum realized he was needed beyond the valleys and tundra where he'd been raised. Bidding his mother a tearful farewell, he set out to travel the Freljord. Over the years, countless stories spread of Braum's mighty feats and good deeds. While most had at least a kernel of truth, they grew increasingly far-fetched and mythic—such as the legend of how he chopped down an entire forest in a single night using only his bare hands, or how during a volcanic eruption, he saved an isolated farmstead by picking it up and carrying it to higher ground.

One of the oldest tribes in the Freljord, the Avarosan Tribe, lead by their leader Grena, set out on a dangerous quest for the truth behind an ancient myth of Avarosa's Throne. During that time, a young Ashe was training to become the future leader of the tribe. The Journey took them deep into hostile territory of the Ice Children, where the Avarosan Frost Priest Maalcrom and the Hearthbound ultimately turned back. Grena, Ashe , and their Bloodsworn brave the punishing climate. After days of trekking, the Iceborn are ambushed at their camp by the Draklorn. Grena and the other Bloodsworn such as Yrael, Rorn, Grimshall, and Logren sacrificed themselves so that Ashe and the other tribesman could escape, but not before Grena entrusted Ashe with a map with the possible location of Avarosa's Throne.

After traveling unforgiving ice cliffs for days, Ashe reached the edge of her mother's maps: Ghulfrost. Though Grena expected to find Avarosa's Throne, a hall and hoard of treasure, Ashe found merely an unmarked cairn in the snow With that bow she ultimately slays any Draklorn Frostguard servant, including Maalcrom who was disguised as their leader. After discovering her tribe were dead, Ashe found Sejuani and together, they killed a grellfeen.

They reunited after five years apart. They escaped after being chased by a group of Ursine. Ashe and Sejuani travels on boat for days before reaching the Winter's Claw. Sejuani welcomed Ashe into her tribe, becoming Battlesisters, but the other tribesmen such as the Frost Priests and her mother Kalkia refuse to accept her among them. Trying to challenge her mother's rule, Sejuani stages an attack on the Ebrataal tribe who was allied to Winter's Claw but were weak and had no Iceborn among them. Founding out the true nature of this attack, Ashe refused to go further with Sejuani's plan and stood to protect the assaulted tribesmen, vowing to take them away across the Ice Sea.

Enraged by Ashe's decision, Sejuani and the other Winter's Claw allied to her left the Ebrataal tribe, branding Ashe as a traitor. Ashe took the Ebrataal tribe upon herself and renamed them to the Avarosan, after the tribe her mother once led. After being abandoned by Ashe, Sejuani swore a sacred oath to lead a raid against a Noxian warship, hoping that fulfilling this oath would be enough to rally the tribe to her, with enough support to wrest power from Kalkia and the Frost Priests.

Her raid a success, Sejuani decided it was time to challenge her mother directly for the tribe. By the ancient customs, a duel between a mother and her daughter was unthinkable—but Sejuani would not be deterred. Outraged, the Frost Priests were forced to intervene, and Kalkia died in the struggle before Sejuani could reach her. As the new Warmother of the Winter's Claw, Sejuani began attacking and absorbing nearby tribes, consolidating her power and gathering a veritable horde of outcast shamans, spirit walkers, Iceborn and Stormborn, and Old Gods worshippers attracted her defiance of the Frostguard. In only a few years the Winter's Claw had become feared throughout the northlands for their speed, brutality, and absolute devotion to their Warmother, marching on the southern tribes, Noxian interlopers, and even the borderlands of Demacia—raiding, pillaging, and conquering any who stand against Sejuani.

After his clan was nearly wiped out by the Darkin Aatrox , Tryndamere and the remanements of his clan arrived in the Avarosan capital. The warrior threw himself into every dueling ring he could find to show his clan's worth, and win them the Avarosan leader's protection so that he could return to thoughts of revenge against the dark creature. But even as every duel was won, his singular fury was deeply unsettling, his rapid healing between bouts was also noted-the more Tryndamere gave in to his rage, the more quickly his body healed.

Many suspected he and his clan practiced strange and unnatural magics, and so Tryndamere's plan was now endangering the wider acceptance of his people. During one duel, he was so lost in his fury that it seemed certain he would kill his opponent, despite having already won. It was then that Braum planted himself in front of the downed fighter, shield raised, and Tryndamere hacked against the impenetrable bulwark. When his rage finally subsided, Braum's good humor won him over, and before long the pair were laughing and drinking to each other's health. Ashe , was looking to strengthen her position with a political marriage Seeing an opportunity in the barbarian, she pledged to take in his clan as Avarosans, if Tryndamere became her first and only bloodsworn.

Tryndamere accepted reluctantly. As he spent more time in Ashe's company, he began to believe that she was indeed the divine reincarnation of Avarosa herself. His rage found temperance in her thoughtful leadership. Though a political marriage, the attraction they felt for each other slowly blossomed into a true affection. Even so, serving as Ashe's champion, Tryndamere now looks to an uncertain future.

The barbarian king can see war brewing all too clearly on the Freljord's horizon, yet he still thirsts for his own, personal vengeance, and begins to wonder if his predestined fate might not be at his queen's side after all Some of the ancient demi-gods appear to have taken physical form once more, their cults of followers growing restless and aggressive. The Freljord itself is fractured and leaderless, and ancient horrors are lurking in the shadows, waiting for any opportunity to strike Freljord is located in the Northest part of Valoran bordering Demacia and Noxus.

The currently well known locations encompassing Freljord are:. Balestriders, also known as the Wanderers, are a Freljoridan legend. A dark omen, these giant beasts are said to roam the Arctic areas around the north of the Freljord. Having body shapes similar to giraffes, their striking features are their giant True Ice like horns, their cycloptic blue glowing eyes, and humanoid arm like protrusions scattered across their bodies like fur.

Depictions of these creatures can be seen on the numerous bridges of the Howling Abyss. Bjerg the Wanderer was the only traveler that believes he has sighted these creatures in recent memory, though his experience has left him babbling and insane. According to Anivia , they are her "strange enemies" who have dark, corrupting magic from the past. While they have dark wiry hair covering their pronounced musculature, their fur is mostly white to better adapt to the Freljords snowy environment.

They resemble a wart-hog mixed with a hairy rhinoceros, with horn-like tusks protruding from the cheekbones and upper jaw, able to ram and impale grounded enemies. Shepherds herd their troop to graze on the slopes during the hotter seasons. They have thick fur coats that can come in various shades of brown and white. These coats are sheared and woven into warm clothing and other textiles by the Freljordians.

They are also used for riding. A type of grain native to Freljord. While the grain milk is a popular adulterant in Noxus , its also used for creating ale and beer. Krugs and Ancient Krug. Krugs are magical fusion of flora, fauna, and rock native to Valoran. Despite its rock like appearance, its behavior is very much of an animal reminiscent of a bear, wolf, or a bettle. The creature is powered by nature magic. Larger forms of this creature are called Ancient Krugs. Mammoths are giant mammalian herbivores of the Freljord. They are commonly equipped with long, curved tusks, large trunks, and a covering of long hair. While mammoths are sometimes hunted for their meat and bones, most freljordians warriors start taming them when they are young and ride them as battle mounts.

Mammoth riders are well respected and feared, due to their mounts size and deadliness. Mammoths can also be used to move large amount of cargo, as well as ships on smooth icey terrain. Poros and the Poro King. Poros are an are the mysterious, magical, and most-loved creatures originating from the Howling Abyss. Poros are equal parts truth, valor, and innocence. They have a heart-shaped underbelly because they're made of love. A poro's horns perk up when it's excited and droop down when it's scared.

Poros paddle through deep snow with their front paws. Some believe that poros are indestructible. Poros stick their tongue out because they are incredibly warm. This is why they can survive the harsh cold environment of the Howling Abyss. Poro-Snax are frosted with Freljordian ice crystals and are a favourite treat of this creature. The leader of the Poros is known as the Poro King. Raptors and Crimson Raptor. Raptors are an avian species native to Valoran and Ionia. While incapable of flight, they have large strong back legs and large front teeth used for hunting.

This species tents to its young until they can fend for themselves against larger predators. When born their feathers are the predominantly blue-greenish color, once they mature their obtain the Crimson Raptor look. Their feathers are used for making cloaks. It is said that killing a Crimson Raptor with the spell of Smite grants unto the victor the keen senses of the beast, allowing them to see unseen threats. Typical wolves found in the Freljord are the grey wolves. They usually hunt hares or other smaller animals. A type of wolves that live in the northern parts of the Freljord. The distinct feature of these wolves is their white fur that's frozen over by ice and their glowing blue eyes.

These carnivores hunt any stragglers in the harsh winter climate. Wildclaws are a type of large carnivorous felines that live in the Freljord. While they share common traits with other larger felines, their unique feature is their additional pare of front legs. Alpha Wildclaws are considered to have the power of a warhorse and the thoughtless savagery of a cat. While the animals live in wild packs some wildclaws can be trained and rode as mounts.

A Grellfeen attacking Ashe. Grellfeen are giant frost-like serpents originating from the northern icey salt waters of the Freljord, specifically the Ice Sea area near the Ursine Lands. They have a row sword sharp teeth used for ripping of flesh. Like the frost serpents, they have a thick sharp hide that enables them to survive low temperatures. Unlike their relatives, the grellfeen can grow to an enormous size, being able to rap its entire limbless body around a Freljordian ship. They have large bloodshot eyes and front nostrils. The Ursine usually hunt these animals for sport and food, although some tribes have also been seen hunting them when times are desperate.

Their meat can be carved into large chunks and transported by boat to the coast. Frost serpents are feared beasts that originate from the Freljord, specifically Lokfar. They have sharp, almost crystal like front teeth and large disk shaped eyes located at the bottom half of their head. They have a thick sharp hide that enables them to survive low temperatures. They got their name from their color, which invokes a frosty appearance. A Scuttler Crabs. Scuttler Crabs or Rift Scuttlers live in the fresh waters of Valoran, Shurima and can be found near the docks of Bilgewater. They are small green-shelled crustaceans with 3 pairs of legs and one pair of front claws.

They sometimes bury themselves into the muck of the river to avoid predators and are known to either avoid or flee from dangers. To confer peaceful resolution hence the elusive pacifist nickname to the force that subdues it, it will grant them a boon: a persistent field around it that grants vision and magical speed to the aggressor and its allies. The Freljordians are an ever divided people. Tribes fighting for dominance for what little resources they can find. As a result, Freljordians deeply value battle, battle kins and battle scars, which are known as a sign of strength, courage and battle experience. A person can only have a fulfilling death with the eyes open. Throughout the nations history, the only known instance of its people uniting was at the time of the "Three Sisters" known as Avarosa , Serylda , and Lissandra.

During that time, the three sisters and their closest human allies received immortality from the Watcher and became known as Iceborn the word's meaning changed over time, as some of the original Iceborn didn't fit in the current meaning of the word, even though most, including the Three Sisters, did. With the Watchers defeated, most of Freljord's history was rewritten, the truth kept secret by the Frostguard and their nearly immortal ruler.

However, some truths lingered on for millennia as legends and tales, pass down by storytellers and bards. While the nation is comprised of numerous tribes, the largest among these are the Avarosan , the Winter's Claw , and the Frostguard. As shown in The Shackles of Belief , the current language of at least a small number of regions and tribes of Freljord is different from that of southerner land like Demacia and Noxus , to the point their words make no sense to each other. The Ancient Freljordian language is among the oldest attested human languages on Runeterra ; traces of some other pre-Freljordian adstrate languages can still be detected in names like Anivia Latin-based?

The Freljordians use "summer" to count years. It is also used to express the age of a person. If there was a word that would best describe Freljordian architecture, it would be enduring. Freljordian houses are built to withstand harsh winters. Most tribal homes have roofs that connect directly with the ground. From simple huts, to lavish long houses, modern Freljordian architecture uses variety of wood and stone material. Ancient Freljordian architecture was built of stone and other magical objects such as runes or true ice. Freljordian clothing is mostly made to withstand the harsh environments of the land. Warriors are mostly clad in armor and leather, other bare chested to show off their hardiness to the cold. Freljordian tattoos are designed simplistic geometric patterns and mostly worn by warriors as a symbol of strength.

All Freljordians wear some level of fur or insulated fabric. Iceborn and their descendants are able to withstand lower temperatures so some of them can be seen wearing very little or no insulating fabrics. Lissandra's 's proliferated religion. It has its own rules, ranks and orders, which Warmothers can choose to not enforce in their tribes. It's known that those who worship the old gods will not consider the Citadel a sacred place. The Cult of the Three is the shortened formal name of Lissandra's cult.

The Freljordian gods are physical manifestations of supernatural forces in the form of spiritual animals and each were conceived from some transcendental force that bonds them together like siblings. They may have different forms which may exist simultaneously across Runeterra and often look differently but still connect to the same source energy. Tahm Kench may be a form of a Freljordian demigod. Where some legends are still being shared, those stories have been misinterpreted far beyond any recollected truth and many times have fellow Freljordians engaged in brutal conflict over their religious conjecture, from drunken bar brawls to merciless wars.

Now the only demi-gods to be remembered have been those few who still actively interact with their worshipers. Of the Freljordian gods, only Volibear is known to actively influence their worshippers, though other Spirits that still have certain influence on people are Ornn , Anivia , The Seal Sister and The Boar-God. As a great change is coming, some of them are starting to take physical form once more. Freljordians also believe in the myth of Kindred , though the visual representation may vary. The Lamb and Wolf is their depiction in southern Freljordian myth. Some northern versions make lamb more baby elnuk like.

When a person dies, they are believed to go to the Realm Beyond. Sometimes, when an individual is brought back from physical death, they are blessed with some power of the old gods, such as being immune to the cold like an Iceborn. These individuals are believed to carry the gods' will to the mortal realm. Be as one with the ice, and understanding shall follow. Endure, without complaint. The ice begs not for mercy, nor offers it. Neither shall we. Fear not pain, nor seek to avoid its blessing. Without it, there can be no life.

Turn not from pain, for pain is life, and its absence means death. Savor its caress. Welcome it. And when death comes, flinch not from its approach. This war-hymn of the Ursine appears to be a fragment of the much longer poem 'Ode to Ruin,' dating back to before the War of the Three Sisters. While some of the original words have no direct translation, the intent behind them is abundantly clear Vorrijaard calls you! And the wild heart within, By tooth, and with claw, will return!

When Vorrijaard needs you To answer the call, Rise now! Together we stand tall! The ground trembles deeply, awaiting him The wind howls, carrying the reek of iron, And earth, starved for centuries, shall soon drink The rains of war another time. When Vorrijaard needs you To answer the call,v. Once roared, Winds whisper To stone. Silence sings.

And wind blows through hollow dells Skies clear as day, shall soon turn gray And you'll know, you're nearing Ornn. Barring your path is a chasm wide Howls rise from fathomless pits But close stands a bridge, frozen by time And across, you'll soon find Ornn. River of fire, that scorches the earth Belies his kingdom of stone And steel sings its tone, as a god stands alone The shaping hand, we know as Ornn. Sparks leap and fly from the star-fallen ore Forging his works, divine Bellows erupt, with unbridled force. The Freljord is mostly structured in a non-hereditary matriarchal fashion. Tribes are led by a warmother; ranks under her may include the following: bloodkin, steelskins, claw leaders, sisters a rank , icewalkers, thralls, champions several husbands who are the toughest in the tribe , allied shamans, lost tribe relatives, related clans, and more.

Freljord has become a land of endless conflict since the time of the Three Sisters. Tribal leaders fight for resources, alliances, and territories. The camshaft timing gear assembly contained advance and retard oil passages, as well as a detent oil passage to make intermediate locking possible. Furthermore, a thin cam timing oil control valve assembly was installed on the front surface side of the timing chain cover to make the variable valve timing mechanism more compact.

The cam timing oil control valve assembly operated according to signals from the ECM, controlling the position of the spool valve and supplying engine oil to the advance hydraulic chamber or retard hydraulic chamber of the camshaft timing gear assembly. To alter cam timing, the spool valve would be activated by the cam timing oil control valve assembly via a signal from the ECM and move to either the right to advance timing or the left to retard timing. Pressed by hydraulic pressure from the oil pump, the detent oil passage would become blocked so that it did not operate. When the engine was stopped, the spool valve was put into an intermediate locking position on the intake side by spring power, and maximum advance state on the exhaust side, to prepare for the next activation.