Where Snow Falls

[meowmaxer 766]

Where Snow Falls

 

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Moraelyn sauntered within the depths of those archives deep below the earth, glancing around them in brief. He remembered those warnings given unto him by the one who gave him that very page he held. Warnings of suddenness and the preparation for such. Aural hues glanced towards the bag which leaned ‘gainst the nearby pillar of wood, filled with a variety of things that would be surely useful in the journey ahead. Reaching one of his hands low, Moraelyn sought to pull at and unfurl the tattered paper at his belt, splaying its contents for him to bask in. It was knowledge, pure and alluring, one that drew the elf in with a morbid curiosity. Rumbling shook the room as some rift tore through the air, wind bellowing from its innards, shadows grasping at the ‘ker to forcibly pull him inside.

 

From above did the elf fall, spat and blown from that hole through the air, which flickered away as soon as it opened. Colliding and tumbling on that landscape’s snow-shrouded ground, the ‘ker reeled and wheezed, spewing bile from his maw as he sought to stumble up, swaying as he took a stand. Bruises ached across his body, littering his side and limbs. His mind rang, a multitude of thoughts appearing throughout as he tried to come to terms with where he was. 

 

A chilled pant parted from his mouth, followed by further ichor-laced vomit. Each ear rang with an agony that spread through his body, sparing no part of it. Heaving still, Moraelyn’s head swung from left to right in some vain attempt to regain whatever bearings he lost from that sudden journey. Gazing across the field of snow, seeing double for a brief, fleeting moment, the ‘ker beheld the paper, two of it, now fallen to dormancy as they both laid in that ‘blanket’, covered in part, with half of their forms sticking out from that blanket. Again did his eyelids flutter, sights flickering as he once more spied the thing as it turned into one, the mirage dissipating. With trembling movements, Moraelyn stumbled forth, clambering across the ground and to the page’s form, fingers clawing and trailing across the snow as he took it in his hands. A gloved hand sought to clasp at its top, pulling it free. Somehow, was it unmarred by those elements, as another limb soon joined it, to brush away that which shrouded it. He sought to unfurl it again, yet it was in vain. Whatever that transported him was gone, and Moraelyn was merely left in that unknown world. 

 

Slowly, whatever bearings he lost returned to him, along with the creeping bite of cold. Teeth clattering against each other in a subtle shiver as he peered  out into the vast expanse of white. Moraelyn’s gaze turned and surveyed that valley, scrutinizing its many features. It stretched out far, with tall trees of ivory jutting out in patches and lines, and some structure towering ahead in the distance. A beautiful sight, he thought, had it not been for the circumstance he found himself in, which left him alone and unprepared. That brief, awe-inspired trance soon shattered at the hands of those frigid gales, and a new thought rushed in his mind, an instinct; survival. He had to find shelter, to find food. His stomach warbled and groaned, fingers reddened and cold. He would not last in that cold, not like this, such was grimly certain.

 

Hands entrenched deep within the robes he donned, Moraelyn sought forth with an ardent resolve: to live. Each step he took ached, movement strained and lumbering as the ‘ker bumbled towards the treeline, burdened by the bag of meager supplies he brought. Keen eyes of gold spotted something, salvation, perhaps. A hole embedded itself across the valley’s side of stone, going inwards. Its innards were empty, devoid of any life or hazardous thing, save for the cold rock of its floor. On high, the sun ceased its swelling to shrink, lowering with each passing moment, the all-encompassing cold worsening alongside it. That bag he carried was soon loosed, left to lay inside the cave as Moraelyn soon paced out and to those nearby trees. Branches littered the ground near their trunks, a lucky thing as he collected them ‘long with bark and other things to act as tinder. Each lift of those myriad branches and twigs brought the thought of whatever warmth the fire he would make bring, along with that which was once endowed by the ember he bore - smoldered by the jaws of that damnable Tyrant. Returning and arraying them within, he formed some crude thing, yet it missed something: fire. He soon delved within the recently-lowered bag, pulling free a metal striker and flint, the two clashing ‘gainst each other. Sparks sputtered from it, generated by that friction. Moraelyn continued, and continued, and continued, ‘till the wood was set ablaze in full. It shined within the darkness like a beacon of hope, one that he used to splay his palms against, finally warming frigid digits as he basked in it. Tiredness finally clung at his mind, one borne from his descent into that realm and the trekking which ensued. It brought with it reflection, for he was stuck and stranded here. Even if he survived that night, and the night after that, there would come a time where he could no longer sustain himself so. He knew naught of what laid within, and of what else that was there besides him and the dangers they could bring. Sleeping in that cave was a risk, yet too was it one that he must take. Moraelyn sought towards that bag and unclasped a roll of leather, soon laying down upon it.

 

Sleep was a struggle, he clung that leather close, staying near the fire which smoldered just near. The stupor of dreams came eventually, oddly vivid as he remembered them. That tattered page flickered in his head, its myriad scrawlings and knowledge which had brought him crashing into that harrowing realm of winter. 

 

Rising finally, the pain of sores and bruises bounding across his body, Moraelyn kicked the charred remnants of the now-doused bonfire away, soot scattering ‘cross the cavern’s ground. Those things that he brought and splayed were soon returned to their original place in and atop his bag, and finally, the ‘ker set out, vigor renewed in part. Before him towered a looming ruin, stone carved by a civilization of aeons past. It arced high, part of it melded within the valley itself. Runes lined its rim, hyperborean and forgotten, reaching from one part to the other, whilst stalactites of ice dangled from the bottom, threatening to fall at any moment. Beyond it was a great forest, ivory white bark covered by rime, their great limbs blotting the skies with hilltops and ruins nestled in betwixt. Moraelyn sought past it, gaze turning high to view the arch’s underbelly as he paced beneath, seeking to enter what laid ahead after a short field of naught but snow. 

 

Amongst the treeline the elf entered was a ruin which bore tall towers of stone that almost reached the top of that gargantuan, seemingly endless forest. Foreboding and quiet, some unnerving feeling permeated the wintry atmosphere. Nothing seemed to dwell within; whatever inhabitants it once bore had vanished long ago. The walls, rooftops, and buildings within had fallen to a disrepair, holes littered throughout. Moraelyn sought inwards, to explore and scrutinize what laid inside. Verily was there nothing left, any valuables, weapons, or anything that could bear a use pilfered by someone. Marks of gibberish lined the walls, a foreign jargon that he could not hope to understand. These were paired with drawings, one showing some humanoid battling a thing made up of three balls of snow, its wooden limbs sent out against the other. Looming beyond was another crude drawing, one far larger than the rest, drawn with blood that dried long ago, almost faded by now. It splayed part of some wicker-giant, much of its features faded and illegible. Unnerved, he sought out, pacing through doorways and the like to finally reach that keep’s gates, stepping out of its bounds and into the unknown yet again, the chill creeping across his form, only partially halted by those robes he wore and clad himself with. 
 

Cracks sounded throughout the forest that the elf wandered through, fallen twigs being crushed by some unseen, skulking thing. Each moment, it drew closer, Moraelyn to twist and turn in a vain attempt to follow those noises, frame trailing and pivoting for a fleeting time.    With a resounding thud, Moraelyn let whatever was left of the meager supplies he carried fall onto the ground, flakes of snow bursting up from its impact. Nigh shivering amongst the frost, the ‘ker soon lofted that cudgel from his belt, snow shaking off as it stirred. There was little time to use that art endowed upon him, with a figure entering his periphery, one strange and unknown.    The limbs of branches stuck out from its body, which was wrought of snow, looking akin to a twisted snowman, puppeteered by something, someone. It lurched, with Moraelyn mirroring that action, oaken club swinging to its chest, bashing through with ease. Halted, it writhed, warbling as some gurgling wail parted from whatever maw it bore. From the ground, snow arose, replacing whatever was lost. It did not die, even after further strikes, and that same crackling from before sounded again.

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As that previously-struck thing advanced, a horde of beings just like it emerged from the underbrush, flailing their limbs wildly at the air. Quakes reverberated across the ground, which trembled at the approach of a behemoth of wood. It swayed and loomed, seemingly made up of the oak of that forest. Cadavers littered its innards, frozen stuck within the foul wickerman, joined by that which assailed him as well, the snow-things’ remnants still squirming within. Thwack! | Attention taken by the ever-encroaching titan, the very thing Moraelyn fought just before swung its branch-arm at him, battering his limb. It ached with a chilled pain as he broke into a sprint of self-preservation, one away from the growing swarm. Fear clung to his mind, one nerve-wracking and spreading throughout his body, fear of that cold and those damnable things which spawned from it. His heart beat and thrummed against his chest, and it only served as further cause to continue that desperate run of his. 

 

Rushing past a multitude of trees, Moraelyn finally halted. He found that forest’s edge, yet he could not cross it. Those trees ended, and the earth sunk into some chasm, a river, long since frozen over, running through it like some scar. That rumbling only grew louder, nearer as the giant of wood and frost encroached on the ‘ker, with Moraelyn pivoting to face it. His thoughts rushed and twisted. No longer could he escape, yet too was he unable to fight back against such a thing. Fire would only embolden it, and those arts privy to him were unable to be used with such short time. One of its hands lurched towards him, and such a movement was evaded. He ran left, but was unaware of its other limb, which soon grasped him, lofting him high to its basket, only to let him loose and into it. Bones broke as he fell face-first down, body tumbling into those cadavers that laid within, their features frozen off. He roared in pain, part of his ribs cracked, broken by the impact. 

 

A piercing, bitter chill soon joined him as he struggled to some better spot, brought upon by his tossing into the thing’s basket, languishing as he was ensnared within - too high to jump from, impossible to escape as that thing wandered. Moraelyn wheezed and clasped at its wood, stumbling on top of some frozen cadaver as he flailed about to a stand, falling soon after. His sights swayed, and he saw double, ichor spitting out to turn the rime covering the wicker-man red. The cold fear piercing Moraelyn mind turned to a relief, seeping into his bones and every recess of his body, eyelids growing heavy as a drowsiness washed through him, sending him drifting into some winter dream. 

 

Quivering, that page bound to his side shimmered with a certain gleam, one ardent and flashing as that gate which took him away and threw him out whirled through the air once again. Some unseen force tugged at Moraelyn, jolting him awake from that stupor. Light flashed before his gaze, blinding it in a fleeting moment as he was brought back to the innards of that cellar, back meeting the floorboards as he shivered and heaved. That wisdom hidden beneath its words and symbols filled his mind along with a certain understanding, wracking throughout its every recess as his head twisted and turned throughout that room, eyes falling shut soon after, exhaustion creeping within Moraelyn’s form.