Horn of the Frost Giant

With a blast from the mighty horn of the Frost Giant, the land is bathed in the shadow of Winter.  The Grand Dame of Fall has been stripped of her courtly golden robes, as the land is laid bare and gray.  The lordly sun Helios has been banished into the far southern regions towards the homeland of the Queen of Amazonia, leaving us to find our own warmth by the fires. The cold days are short, and the dark nights are long. The once beautiful trees, clothed in emerald greens, now sit like skeletons, naked and watching over the land. Their shadows stretching across the hard barren fields like the bars of a prison. We await the coming of the Frost Giant, not with the joy of a returning king, but the fear of a conquering dictator.