It’s about that time of year, isn’t it.
The life is slowly sucked out of all living things as the temperature begins to drop below freezing point. No level of Arcadia is safe from this chill: the flowers wilt in Anthesteria, the leaves fall in the groves, and those unfortunate residents in the Bleak begin dying off one by one.
From frostbite.
It’s the condition that will freeze your face off and chill you right down to the bone, and those without any source of warmth or insulation are more prone to it than others. Because the leaner you are, the less layers covering you, and the happenstance of your location can be a deadly storm for anyone who’s in the path of getting bitten by that cold, dry air.
I’d wager you’re feeling a bit nipply right about now, Grimskull.
The army of followers that once amassed around you, keeping you safe and warm from danger have suddenly fallen from your grasp, haven’t they?
And now you find yourself, your power, your influence, wilting as you’re exposed to the harsh climate of reality that is the cold season.
Scurrying from shelter to shelter in the hellscape that is the Bleak, you’re searching for something, anything to surround your lean, exposed ego with to hold steady against this harsh weather and these trying times. For you have a war to fight, and in order to win, in order to survive you must insulate yourself.
Because let’s face it- the air is bone chilling, and if there’s one person in all of Olympus whose skeletal system is exposed to the elements, it’s you, Preacher.
You need that skull, that jaw to persuade the the masses to fight for your cause, and if that face of yours freezes and shatters well, let’s just say I have a vision of pain and failure in your immediate future.
If it’s warmth you seek by coming my direction, then I’m sorry to inform you that you will find none of that with me. The blood which runs through my veins are cold as ice. My frozen blue eyes cast shade upon whoever dares stand before me.
And this time of year? You don’t want to be anywhere near me, lest you want a deep sleep and a deeper freeze.
When you step in the ring with me at Frostbite, and your body begins to shiver uncontrollably— dont fear— for I know you aren’t afraid of the pain that’s to come.
You welcome that pain that I’ll have you experience.
It’ll be the freeze that you must endure.
And you and I both know you aren’t equipped to endure that, Walter.
After I put you under anesthesia, putting your body, mind, and spirit on ice, the beauty of it all is that you won’t feel a thing when I finish up with you.
You’ll be too numb, Skull.
And when you wake up from my surgery with a broken jaw, you’ll have to endure the cold reality that you’ll never preach again, as a broken jaw is just what the doctor ordered.
Grimskull, the doctor will see you now…