Our heroes, our icons have mellowed with age

the sentinel of the north

"Here." Noah said, lifting his arms and turning with the most grandiose of gestures either of the two men had displayed since their conversation started. "It's green, teeming with life. Where the tundra was always a harsh mistress, the Greenwing is a blessing beyond measure." It was true -- his own freezers and stores were filled with an overabundance of meat, while his dry storage grew and grew with the different arctic plants that grew here.

"I'd never seen this many shades of color in Halo before." He grew up knowing nothing else but the ice and snow, slush and dirt. His ventures into Torchline and the Hollowed Grounds when the portals first opened to Halo were his first interactions with such rich and vibrant colors -- now his own home held them. "This bleeds into a forest with trees so unlike anything else. I played tag there with Ronin a few months ago, actually." Noah couldn't help but flash a smile at the statement. In fact, it was more ridiculous than even he had let on: two grown men and one grown woman had played tag together for hours in that forest. "Then on the other side of Halo we've got a spot that could host a pretty impressive harbor one day." His smile did not fade at the idea of working towards such a project.

Noah