Tales of History - A Civ-Builder Quest

The wind was digging into is flesh as if it was a blade. Every little gap in his coat, every seam and every stitch an opening for it to tear and bite at him. The travel to their target should have taken maybe from sunrise to noon in summer, though now it taken them a little over a day. It was not just the snow itself that slowed them down, but the meandering route they had to take. When they had set out, the weather seemed to clear, yet they had barely crossed the river when it turned around again. The slight smattering of white coming from above had turned back into an endless furry, the wind picking up and whipping through the valley. Once his father had named him eagle, for even as a boy, he could spot a fox amidst the steppe grass half way to the horizon. When he had told the other hunters of this just half a moon ago at their campsite, they gave him the name Snow-Fox, for how he could dart among the endless white nigh unseen and making nary a sound. Now though, his eyes failed him as not even could look much farther then a few strides in this weather. Neither could he run through the damp snow like he had done through the dry powder when he had gained his new name.

Still, he would lead this group to their goal and bring them back to the village safe and sound. One had just to hope that the tribe would not believe him lost too, given how much they would be delayed. To travel over the open meadows as he had planned would have been the height of folly in these winds. It would drive the snow into their clothes, their bodies first melting it to water, just for the icy wind to freeze it right back again. Just a few days after being named Snow-Fox, he had seen what that would do to someone. When they had tried to peel a huntresses frozen coat off her, they had torn away parts of her skin. When they then had warmed her at a fire before trying again, the coat came off and the skin followed it anyway, though this time in tiny tatters that almost flowed off her flesh like water. They had cut her throat right then and there, him the one who wielded the blade, seeing no point in letting her spend a night more on this world just to scream until her throat broke on its own.

So he made sure to stick to the forests wherever he could. The trees might have caught much snow, piling it high among them, yet they also broke the lethal wind. Among those barren stalks, safely nestled behind a hillside, they had made camp last night. Now though, they could no longer stay in that safety. The last stretch between the forest and the ragged ridges that marked the beginning of the mountains was steep and barren, grass being barely able to cling to the rocky ground. And it was long. Once again, he tugged twice on the rope that bound him to the second hunter of their procession and from there on led to the other six. It would be folly to turn around to look for them and a pointless one besides in that white blanket that enshrouded them. All he had to navigate were the patterns in the thin dusting of snow that clung to the ground, the wind having carved deep lines perpendicular to the forest and the cliffs. Should he loose it, they would get lost and enter the wrong crack, maybe even wander aimlessly the barren area until winter claimed them. After the longest while, two tugs came back from the man behind him. Everyone of the group was still fine. As kept walking forward as fast as he dared, Snow-Fox vowed to keep it that way.


After the longest moments of his life, something came into view. The sharp contours of rock finally becoming visible amidst the snow. It took a few more agonizing moments to reach them, for every step within these winds had to be measured, lest the gales toppling one of the group and dragging them all to their end. Though nothing went wrong and they all hunkered down in the little shelter offered by the cliffs. The ear rending screams of winters fury and the spirits whipping it forward kept howling all around them, though they were safe from it again. Even if the respite was welcome, they did not sit down idly, instead marching on after catching their breaths. It was only a short walk to reach the camp of the lost party, where they would start a fire to warm their frozen bones immediately. Yet when they arrived, something else commanded Snow-Fox's attention.

As his companions went on with the important task, he crouched down to survey what they had found. Broken basket laid scattered around the extinguished camp-fire and as he ran his hands around the snow covered lumps around it, what had so far been only suspected became truth. Three of the party of six they had come to find lay dead amidst their camp. It would have been all to easy to chalk it up to the weather having claimed them and go home, but Snow-Fox felt he owed these people more then that. A single glance was enough to see that skull of one of the dead had been caved in by a club and as he looked closer at the others, he found frozen blood on their clothes and round tears in them. The poor sod with the caved in skull might have just died from a vicious fall, though for all the ravages of winter, flying spears were not among them. And that there was nothing in the wound meant that someone had come to remove them. Their arms and packs were missing likewise, just as the three others of their group.

The fire had been started while he had been distracted and even in the confines of the crack in the cliffs, it seemingly took forever for the fire to warm the group back up. None of the hunters had spoken with each other all day, not wishing to expel precious warmth together with the words. So he just brought forth his spear while they sat in the yellow shine of the flames and then pointed to the three dead and frozen solid corpses around them. The others got his meaning easily, nodding in acceptance and beginning to ready their own weapons. Though no ambush came for them, even as they lingered a while longer then it had taken to soak up enough heat to go on. As nothing came for them, before wasting any more time then necessary, they readied themselves to come for it instead. Not much snow had fallen in the mountain cracks, the wind relentlessly driving it above them. Thus a trail could still be made out easily, a few days old at most and clearly far fresher then those leading out towards forest. So they pressed on, determined to find the other three, though no longer sure if it would be rescue they would bring to them.

Deeper and deeper they wandered into the cracks, slowly climbing up the mountain slope as they did so. Nothing seemed to be here, save for an actual snow fox that had crossed their path, yet the trail was clearly leading onward. It was decently beaten, matching three men walking single file just fine, though there was still no clue for why they had gone this way. Though not that much later, they found the signs of someone being there. Another corpse came into view, this time not even fully covered in snow and clearly showing clothing made in the tribes fashion. Again Snow-Fox leaned down to find the reason for this death and sure enough, three bloody holes in his clothes made it easy to guess. What was more troubling though was that the dead hunters hands were bound with a rough rope.

They did not need to walk much longer until they came upon the answer to their mounting questions. Amidst the cracks they saw a figure in the haze, just like the other hunters had described them. Immediately they raised their spears, just like the thing before them, but not attacking yet. The Snow Demon took this chance to make a few step backwards, others of his kind coming onto the small clearing had had backed up into. It was a good head taller then any of the hunters and had indeed a snow white pelt that fell all the way down to the ground. From close up though, they could make out things that others had missed. Though they could not see its legs, only two huge, lumpy and misshapen feet peeking out of the fur, it stood on them like a man would. It had huge paws with long claws instead of hands, yet it gripped a crudely made wooden spear in them. Amidst the tangles of hair, one could make out the bone of a great beast, turned into a club by simply wrapping some leather around the thinner end.

Snow-Fox had trouble to understand what it then said, partially due to guttural tone and broken words used, partially due to being unable to comprehend the monster being able to speak at all. "You like them. You come for them?"

Very slowly, he let his spear drift back upright. It was worrisome how many of the beasts filled the small clearing now, though they seemed content to speak for now. Fear tried to worm itself into his mind, though he cast it out quickly. What was one more unknown and strange creature in these lands? He had come to find out what had become of the people of his tribe and if he had to speak to a monster to do so, then he would do so. "You know what happened to our hunters then?"

A rumbling came from its throat and it took a bit to recognize it as laughter. "They hunter? They weak. We kill half when sleep. We kill another when run like goat."

This statement was met with more of that rumbling laughter from the creatures and some angry mutters from the hunters, yet no blow was struck for now. "Why did you do that? And where are the other two?"

"They there and they food. Why not kill because food? Other two with us. Will be food too." If the thing had a face, it was hidden beneath its fur, though the tone of voice made it clear that it stated a fact as if talking to a child.

It could be just a misunderstanding, though Snow-Fox had a sinking suspicion that it wasn't. "What do you mean by they will be food?"

This time, there was a vicious edge to the laughter coming from the creatures. "Skaog come soon. When Skaog come, we make food. Then we make food of dead. One not waste food in white."

Before the disgusting explanation was even finished, Snow-Fox had thrust his hand out towards his companions, motioning for them to be quite. They still hurled abuse and insults at the things, though at least they stuck to words, not spears. The small hunter party was outnumbered by them and there was no telling how strong those creatures were. "They are people, not food. We want them back."

"We want food. We take people, so we want food for them." He paused for a moment, seeming in thought and looking towards the others of his kind before continuing. "If you want people, you give food. Plenty food. And spears of night. Then can have people and dead. But make plenty, or Skaog angry."

Whatever this Skaog was supposed to be, it would be hard pressed to match Snow-Fox's anger at this moment. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of giving these things something in return for having killed his people, planning to eat them like animals. And the thought of giving them better arms to slaughter men with was even worse. Yet he had come here to save the missing party and as long as two of them lived, he would not abandon them lightly.

The missing party was ambushed by the Snow Demons. Two of them yet live and could be traded for by food and arms. What is the tribes response?
[] Abandon them to their fate. You can't trade for their lives and neither can you afford to fight these monsters.
[] Agree to the deal. Offer them:
-[] Obsidian weapons.
-[] Write-In amount of food.
[] Attack them and free the captives.
[] Write-In

AN: That nigh crit-fail on the weather for this little trip should have wiped the party, but it seems the dry spell for the hunters has come to an end and now swings in the other direction. Enjoy your first character that made the jump to proper Great-Person.

Also enjoy dealing with the Snow Demons.