Stigandr's Travels: Book II

[The Yeti]

Link to Part I

Stigandr’s Travels: Book II

I embarked the next night with my companion, setting forth once again into the frozen expanse of the beyond. It is difficult to define what I saw on our journey, for it was unlike any form I had experienced before. Even my eyes, forged as they were in the fire licked halls of my youth, were ill-matched for the brilliance around me. For beyond the great river the sky experiences a curious change, becoming first a brilliant blue fire, then passing from white into a deep grey that expounds a total lack of color to my eyes. Our surroundings, too, seem almost to exist beyond my dwarven perceptions. Many a time have I found my companion darting about in a circuitous path so convoluted as to make elven ritual look as straight as my kin’s forge hammer.

Admittedly, I was at first drawn to laughter at the sight of my companion darting first left and right. For their size and girth, the yetis move surprisingly gracefully, swimming just as effortlessly through the snow as the whales I witnessed in my time accompanying the great whale hunts in the clan lands. Despite the humorous sight, I followed my partner’s movements as best I could, barreling my stout body along in the wake he left in the endless snow, my beard swaying as the great ships of the elves. It was not until two nights ago, however, that I learned why he moved in such a curious manner. It was late, and I had grown weary of our travels as we came upon a short ridge overlooking a long, shallow valley. My companion had shifted left a full ten paces just before we reached the apex, and I, seeing no reason to do so in the featureless white, opted to forge straight ahead instead. It was then that I was introduced to what the yetis so charmingly call “ever ice.” Any comparison to the familiar variety, however, is akin to comparing the fires of Armageddon to your well-mannered coals upon the cooking stove. I had but to scrape my stubby toe against the substance for it to drain the very life from my limbs and nearly knock me flat on my back. Fortunately, my companion had taken notice of me, and with a great heave pulled me up and onto the edge.

Once I had regained my wits and my bearing, I could now make out the valley before us. At its fore, it presented the same featureless void that we had journeyed through now for six days and as many nights, a uniform white expanse that made me yearn for the familiar, dirty greys of my homeland. Just beyond, however, I could make out the marks of trees, real trees with a hearty green color, and the return of texture and elevation to the landscape. We pushed forward now, and I did so with renewed purpose. Coming then to a group of frozen lakes at the southern edge of the expanse, we set about searching for any form of sustenance or supplies that we might use for the continuation of our journey. It was as I rounded the corner to view one of these lakes that I spotted a most curious figure. Sturdily built, he wore armor favored by those throughout Mitgardia, but on his head he wore the antlers of a great moose, apparently in reverence of the lesser spirit of the North. I met his gaze, and he looked at me, motionless as the frozen ground beneath him. I made my greetings in the tongue of my kin, and in the many tongues of Historica. He responded in the ancient dwarven tongue, applauding my knowledge of the language of our forefathers and urging me to join him. I did so, albeit uncertainly, and could see then that he had worked a minor conjuration, turning the ice around him into a mirror into the worlds of the past. I must have spent a quarter day there with him, as memories and the past swirled about us like sand playing about the many dunes of Kaliphlin. It was then that my companion returned, having found some game and berries in a nearby rise, and greeted my new friend in the ancient tongue as well. The dwarves of the moose, it would appear, have made the northern journey into the lands of the yeti for centuries in search of the purest ice to perform their rituals of remembrance. I thus learned that this follower of the moose was called Hugr in the old tongue, meaning courage, and that he intended to venture south again in the morning. He offered to accompany us, and we both assented, particularly as my companion’s knowledge of the lands of men was scarce.

There is much more to say, reader, but that shall have to wait for another letter.

There are some more images on my flickr, and if you want to spoil books 3 and 3.5 you can look at the build images on my flickr. I'm currently working on book 4 and will hopefully have stories for 3 and maybe 3.5 up tomorrow. Cheers.

Edited December 23, 2013 by The Yeti

[-Carson Haupt-]

That is a beautifully elegant use of the flowers! Well done!

[kabel]

using these flowers as snow is just such a great idea, your definetely expanding of what can be done in the North!

[Lord Vladivus]

Beautiful! I've been awaiting the continuation of the story! Great builds, and even better story!

[soccerkid6]

I really like how you're expanding on the 'fantasy' side of Mitgardia I'm interested to see more builds concerning ever-ice.

Your snow technique works nicely again here

[Gunman]

Great use of flowers there dude!

[Infernum]

Incredible builds and shots! You're photography really makes this pop!

[Gideon]

Good story writing and a nice picture with the flowers