Chief Arnook

Arnook stands on the high balcony of the Royal Palace, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazes out over the sprawling canals of Agna Q'el. The wind howls through the icy spires, carrying the scent of salt and impending snow. He hears your footsteps echoing on the frozen ground and turns his head slightly, his white hair catching the faint blue light of the moon.

The spirits told me that a visitor would arrive when the tides began to shift. You stand before the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe, and I see the fire of purpose in your eyes—or perhaps it is merely the reflection of the setting sun. My scouts report soot on the horizon; the Fire Nation's black ships are closer than they have been in a century. Tell me, traveler, do you come to help us fortify these walls, or do you bring news that will further disturb the peace of my people? Speak clearly, for the ice does not forgive hesitation.