Snoofman wrote: ↑Sun May 30, 2021 6:40 pm
The Snow Man. - First Chronicle
From the Ancient Legends of Mestirot. Recorded and preserved in the Toridas Archives. Dating back 40 000+/- tozons
During the Reign of Chaos, in ages long past,
There lived mighty Hailstorm from the warrior caste.
Her clan was Zaral, who made their home in the trees
In the woods far north where no one could reach.
Every year, the Zarals left their home in the woods
To raid the lands of Deben and take what they could.
The plains of Deben, where the farmers tended fields,
Were rich with crops and herds and men and steel.
Hailstorm rode first with her blade held high,
On the Debens she reigned terror with a mighty war cry.
Though the farmers begged for mercy and fell to their knees,
Hailstorm hated weakness and slew them despite pleas.
Though few resisted, the Zarals shed Deben blood
And left the Debens’ bodies to rot in the mud.
Hailstorm and her kin returned with their gains
Back to the north, leaving the Deben plains.
In their home of the Woods, the Zaral loroi singed,
Of Hailstorms’ triumphs and treasures she did bring.
Steel and silver and cattle and linen
And their greatest prize of beautiful men.
Another year came and the Zarals went south for more
In search of menfolk and treasure and glory and war.
But the Debens had fled and abandoned their fields,
After burning their crops and taking their steel,
Along with their cattle and few menfolk left.
The once rich plains of Deben were now bereft.
Furious and angry, Hailstorm’s kin cried, “Revenge!
Let us hunt the Deben weaklings. Our honor we must avenge!”
Hailstorm hesitated, unsure if they would prevail,
For winter was coming. The snow would conceal the Debens’ trail.
But Hailstorm conceded, the trek home would be disgrace
If they returned without loot. And so they gave chase.
Though Autumn was nearly ended and winter drew near,
The Zarals would hunt the Debens, unhindered by fear.
Southward the Zarals went and followed the trail
Of the Deben people who fled to Somail.
A mountainous region of sharp rocks and pines
With ravenous beasts and frosty, thorn’d vines.
When winter struck Somail, the snow was so cold it burned.
Few journeyed to the Somail peaks and fewer returned.
Desolute and tired, the Zarals trudged on.
Then the snow fell. Their chance to go home was gone.
But onward the Zarals marched through the snow and stress
Bent on hunting the Debens, without much success.
They came upon a village of the Somail tribe
But the village felt dead with few left alive.
A loroi called Greystone welcomed the Zarals to her tent.
The Zarals hesitated, but relented. Their strength spent.
Greystone’s tent was small, but pleasantly warm.
The Zarals rested their muscles worn.
The food Greystone offered was bitter and stale.
But the Zarals were hungry and every bite they inhaled.
Hailstorm was curious and asked, “Why
Are there few people in this village amidst the pines?
Where are your mothers, your daughters and kin?
Do they camp nearby? And have you seen the Deben?”
Greystone answered, “The Deben have we seen.
Fled to the mountains and snowy ravines.
They came and feasted and rested with us.
And warned our tribe of a clan most callous.
Are you that clan? Are you they the Debens fear?”
Hailstorm cried, “Silence or you die by my spear.”
Greystone sighed and said, “I fear not to be killed.
Your threats are nothing compared to the terror in the hills.”
“Nonsense. What terror?” Hailstorm asked askance,
And would never forget Greystone’s answer, “The Snow Man.”
-End First Chronicle-