History

The mountain literally was ice. Nothing but black, hard, cold, steeled, bloody ice. Even colder than the usual freezing, killing temperatures of the wild, icy wastes and mountainous world surrounding Savarica, the massive, jagged block of sheer dark ice gave off the silvery waves of visible chill that its frozen substance would when exposed to supposedly warm temperatures. It stood like a tiny, tall, black spike in the midst of the gray and blue mountains around it, a black king among brutal subjects. Over it all, peaks great and small, the same screaming, moaning, icy wind blew forever, never ceasing.
Standing some four score of leagues and perhaps a month or more's horrifying journey to the northwest, the mountain really went by no human name. No mortal man ever dared go near it, at least not anymore, so names were unecessary. The Norn folk, the pale ice elves, however, called it, "Shi'matan." In their own language, roughly translated, it meant, "Spire of Serpents." And such it was.

Though its lowest entrance was probably several miles and a week's journey up its black, steep surface, it was hollowed through with black caverns and halls of unnatural, black ice. Even the most daring Norn shaman and ruthless Raxarvis would be pushed to the limit to reach its entrance, let alone survive who lived inside the house of black frozen water. For inside, sheltered from the freezing, icy winds, was...a nest.
Warhespar's own nest, in which his children had been born and raised. And now, their father having been dethroned and eaten alive by his power hungry children, the four of them lived alone. The family of the great, black dragon in the mountain of black ice. The Warhespar Clan.

There was a distant beat like thunder, and then another, as the sound of a massive pair of wings cut through the wind and air, to reach ears within.
The black, half hidden shape that sat in the cavern mouth did not move or blink, the red, slitted eyes watching expressionlessly, each eye as big as a small human shield. A huge, soft rumble echoed inside the cave, just out of the dim gray light of the entrance, as the dragon changed position. The red eyes blinked.
A dark, recognizable form slowly appeared out of the frozen, snow-laden wind before the entrance, wings beating against the wind and storm. A flash of dim blue greeted the waiting fire worm's eyes, as he watched carefully the approach of his sister.
Within moments, and after a few angry attempts to flutter against the wind miles above ground, the blue dragon snorted harshly and dived in through the entrance, out of the wind, to land in a graceful pose in the black entryway. The mountain shuddered slightly as she hit the ground, and the reptilian wings folded neatly on her back. The cave, though now radiating slightly blue, visibly darkened even further than usual.
"CaaahGAGH!" The young dragon screeched harshly, coughing, snarling. "The cursed wind, it drives wings backward!"
The dark, unmoving shape further inside did not reply, only watching.
With an angry glint, the blue scaled creature turned to look inward, down into the cave. She knew who was there.
"Would you prefer to try, brother?" She spat, a blast of cold wind following her breath down into the cave. "No, you would prefer to send your siblings out to do the jobs you can do! Curse you!" Hacking up more ice from her throat, she rumbled something more, and craned her neck to glance outside at the horrible flying weather again.
The black, odd shape inside shifted again. The eyes narrowed. "You own throat destroys you, foolish sister." He growled dimly, shaking the cave ever so slightly. "Enough of your idly curses. Cease flying into the wind, and using your breath so often, and perhaps you would be strong enough to deal with what most can."
The blue, smaller dragon snapped around at this comment, with a snarl on her massive, grim jaws. "Do not mock me, brother. Don't tempt me."
"Tell me, then, and curse later: What happened? Are the Norns moving as fast as they should, or shall we motivate them further?"
"They move as they do, quickly and silently." The blue dragon muttered, moving in a little to the doorway. "We left shortly after it was over, they move for the nearest house first. House Kairok. They will not last long, the place is ill defended." She chuckled grimly. "The mortals grow soft in their safe little pen. Few defenses they leave where they should. Their blood tastes just as good, though." She grinned wickedly. Even now, her black brother could see the dark stains of red that were still on her snout. Apparently she had enjoyed herself.
"And Jorshekon? Where is he?"
"He is where he should be, no matter." She snorted. Another blast of chill ice and air that would've turned mortal skin numb for a day echoed through the cavern. "He will strike when he should. The way is open brother. Do not worry yourself, your siblings do their work well, if you do not." She couldn't resist tacking the last sentence on.
The great black did not respond for a long while, letting his sister's impudence slide.
"Good." He growled. "And House Herrsan?"
"Very soon. Kire'dephal will not last long."
"It is good then, sister. You may rest for one day, and then hurry after your red brother. We cannot waste time after this moment, they will be moving next on the board." His low rumble filled the cavern. A scent of something even more deadly than the blue dragon's icy breath filled the tense air.
Not arguing, the small blue firedrake snorted one more, and lay down right there on the spot, folding her cold, bloodless wings over herself before the entryway.