alasknd
Perspective
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.
Perspective
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.