Zoroa [Far North Beyond the Wall]

It was supposed to be a simple job. Go in, kill the monster in the cave, then come out and get paid. Nothing he hadn't done a thousand times before. But then this shit happened.

Zoroa had fallen from the sky before. Happens sometimes when you can fly. And it happens a lot more when the other things in the sky don't really like you being up there. But falling from the sky when a few seconds ago you had both feet firmly on the ground? That was a new experience for him.

"What the fuuuuuaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Zoroa screamed as he began spiraling through the air, the bitterly cold wind tearing at his skin like a thousand tiny daggers. The wind buffeted him harshly, blowing him about like a ragdoll as he struggled to even tell which way was up. Every time he tried to assert his power and gain some measure of control, the wind would shift again and knock him over, almost like it was attacking him. He would have still been screaming, had the wind not carried away his voice.

"Calm down, dumbass," he thought, "Get a grip and stop fucking falling!"

Zoroa threw his arms out from his body, trying his best to orient himself and control his descent. Smiling to himself, he called upon the power he had carried since he was a child, the roiling heart of fire at the center of his soul. He began to shine, ribbons of rainbow-colored flame trailing out of him like violent whips, thrashing at the air around him. He grit his teeth as the pain of his magic came to him. A familiar sensation, and a side effect of the instability of his power. But while it might be unstable, he knew it was still a sight to behold. In an instant, twin jets of fire burst forth from his hands, halting his descent, and leaving his burning body floating in the sky, finally still.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on?" he shouted, looking at the unfamiliar landscape below him.

The clear sky above him allowed him a perfect view of the land of snow and ice that stretched out before him. A pure and untamed wilderness, seemingly untouched by man. Unfortunately, he did not have the time to look around for very long. Almost as soon as he finished speaking, his fire went out.

A brief "Huh?" later, and he was back in freefall. He tried for the magic again, but though the signs were there, and the pain kept coming, he couldn't get anything more than sparks. The ground kept getting closer, and with his power failing him, he had **** but to brace for impact. Fortunately, with as much snow as there was, it broke his fall quite nicely, leaving him mostly intact. Slowly but surely, he rose to his feet, cradling a dislocated shoulder.

"Well now, that was _im_pressive!" he heard a voice say.

He whipped around, wincing slightly as he rocked his arm, and was met with half a dozen men pointing arrows at him. The man who had spoken took a step forward, a smile on his face as the archers took aim. He had the look of a man who hadn't shaved in a few weeks, and hadn't bathed in at least twice that. His dark hair was peppered with clumps of snow as his heavy and piercing eyes locked in on Zoroa.

"Care to tell me what that was?"