Why I'm in the Northern Alliance by Peter "Axel" King

It's cold. Not that I expected it to be any different today, even the "warm" months are worthy of a
cloak. Life in the Northern Alliance is rough and rugged, breeding strong people and powerful warriors. I wasn't born or raised here, they still call me a southerner, and I don't mind, I am a southerner after all, and it's not a curse.

It's cold. That cold can sometimes be reflected in the people. If you come to our campfire, and we don't know you, you won't be treated like an insider. After all, you could be a bandit, looking to make off with our rations. We do not apologize for this, all are treated the same the first time they come to us; if they don't deserve our respect or trust, they shall not be allowed in.

It's cold. Not that you should expect any different. All of us are together, bonded by the cold, and the fellowship that only the cold can provide. The people are like the campfire. If you stand outside the camp, you can see it, but you are not a part of it and you cannot feel its warmth. If we allow you into our camp, you can feel the warmth that only comes from the cold, and if we allow you to feel that warmth, without disdain or mistrust, then you'll understand how the warmth that comes from the cold can exist.

It's cold. Kings die in the cold. Dogs die in the cold. In the cold, they both get buried in the same icy grave. We've all seen what the cold leaves behind when the summer months settle in, and the cold doesn't care. Kings alone in stone towers freeze, horses lashed to a post in a courtyard freeze, the cold doesn't care. These things shape the way life continues in the north.

It's cold. There aren't many tournaments in the north. There are enough dangers in the wilderness, and more to be gained. Food was never won by fighting your brothers in the safety of a castle or arena. Tournaments will divide that which dies once divided. Instead, there are games. Games that keep the cold on the outside, not in the in between. Games that bring about the hunter, and the soldier. Games that strengthen the body, and pull closer the campfire circle.

It's cold. The Deity guides them, their one god. She is worshipped by the young and old, bringing warmth in the cold night. Warriors and soldiers go into battle knowing that, if they die, the Deity will guide them across the Dark Stream into the afterlife. They sing songs about this as they march into battle or the unknown. For some, the Deity is the campfire that they huddle around. Despite this, they are largely still led by the idea that what one has, one has earned. The Deity can help provide, but won't coddle. You must build your own campfire, but the Deity may provide the wood to burn.
It's cold. The food will make you strong, warm your belly, and clear your head. The alcohol is strong, and the beer is dark, but they are not had before battle. It's easier to see and fight with a clear head as opposed to a head full of aches and alcohol. When meals are served, it feels like more of a ritual than food. Everyone understands the importance and significance of the meal, and appreciates the ones who provided it. The meal pulls the circle tighter, keeping the cold to our backs.

It's cold. No one acts alone. If a man or woman goes into the wilds, he or she brings with them things others have provided to keep them fed and warm. No one goes with a rusty blade or an empty stomach. No one sleeps without a wool cloak or logs for a fire. The cold does not afford us solitude.
It's cold. But only on the outside. Remain on the outside and you won't feel the warmth.

-- Axel Penn Nosetti of The Northern Alliance