“So, what happened?” Yoruuk sat down and resting her head in her hands she leaned forward, a picture of intrigue.

Toke rolled his eyes and smiled,“You really want to know? It’s not that interesting.”

Yoruuk sat up and huffed with petulant annoyance, “Would I have asked if I didn’t?”

“Fine. But in return for me telling a strenuous and tasking story such as mine, you must get me a drink of freyjasalt and a plate of niflspice to munch on.” He crossed his aging arms stubbornly and gave her a smug grin. She made a protesting puff at him and stood up. As Yoruuk padded to the small kitchen, Toke took a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t really understand why so many people wanted to hear his story. It wasn’t like he had saved the world. In fact, he had actually been too late. When he had arrived at Drakenfjord so long ago he found the whole town abandoned except for the Contingent. They had taken him in, and when the Transitioners from the Secret Testing lab had attacked they protected him. Though they fought and defended him with their lives, he still became fatally injured. They did not have the means to cure him of the poisonous bites of the mutilated Transitioners. They ended up taking him to the Temporary Home of The People in hopes they could heal him. He obviously survived, though that was decades ago.

Yoruuk came back in with a loaded tray. “Since I figured this would be a long time, I brought snacks for the both of us.”

Toke chuckled. “A wise decision, my dear. Now get cozy.”

Yoruuk nestled into the cushions next to him and nibbled on a small loaf of niflspice. Toke took that as a sign to start and dove into his long ago memories.

I guess I should start with some history. Remember, you weren’t alive back then so all the events that had happened recently and were impacting everyone’s lives, you never dealt with. Right before I was born, the War of Wars ended. Now we had been at war with the Jackals for a long time and the war had significantly destroyed and deprived our land. We finally drove them off with the help of the Skymen and rid the land of them. But our fields, and sources of income were devastated. Now you live in a blissful time where Frost Shepards are equal with humans and Skymen. In my time Frost Shepards lived only in the village of Draalheim, and they ate humans. So naturally, they were The Peoples predators. Every year on the winter Solstice the deadly and feared Frost Shepards came down from their cold mountain to prey on us innocent and destitute humans. Or so we thought. But more on that later. What is now Gravenmeer, was a flourishing port city before the War of Wars. When I was born, my mother or father, I’m really not sure, left me in one of the ruins in Gravenmeer. My caretaker found me and took me up Winter’s Toll all the way to the village of Draalheim. In a small hut hidden from the view of the village, my caretaker raised me. For seven years I was happy and comfortable. But then he died, and I was left all alone.

I was taught well, so surviving wasn't impossible. I also was very knowledgeable in the history of our world and the culture of the Frost Shepards. When I was about 15, everything changed. I’d been living peaceably by myself and exploring the mountains in my abundant free time or spying on the village and watching the Magi practice Isidreki. Now you know the cold of a Winter’s Toll winter, but back then things were much colder, and it was all year long. I would describe it as frozen and icy and windy, but light and airy. But one day the cold changed. It felt dark and hollow and smothering. The winds shifted their direction and cyclones of snow and ice blew over the mountain. You can feel Isidreki when it is used in large and powerful amounts, and this was the most formidable I had ever felt it before. Ignoring caution, I had climbed the bluff of ice blocking me from their view and crept along the crags till I could see the village. I remember my body quaking at what I saw. The Varmagi had formed a circle and were waving their hands very slowly from side to side. At the time this was the most affective way to summon the might of Isidreki. The motion of their hands roused the magic and the winds around them picked up speed rapidly. Snow and clumps of ice plucked up by the winds swirled in a circle surrounding the Varmagi. A cluster of sharp of icicles had flown in my direction and I remember panicking. I flung myself out of the nook and into the Frost Shepards view. A low growl came from behind me, and I turned slowly to see one of the perimeter guards slowly approaching me. I sprinted towards the rock barriers and clambered over them. You never got to experience this, but not only was Winter’s Toll freakishly cold then, but the ice grew so tall it formed cliffs and hills of ice all over the mountains. As I sprinted towards the ice bluff I grabbed my pick off my belt and leaped off. A talent I practiced daily and was very handy back then was what I call Cliff Sliding. I would jump off a cliff and run my pick down the ice or rock. It would catch and slow my fall so I could easily and quickly descend cliffs. pick caught the ice and slowed his fall. When I reached the bottom of the bluff I looked up and saw the guard glaring down at me. I had shuddered and sprinted into my hut. I had felt such determination then. I had known what I needed to do, and I did it. Right then. I didn’t have much holding me to the mountain, with my caretaker dead and no possessions to my name, leaving was no problem. So I gathered my worn satchel and my meager food supply. I poked my head out of the hut and scanned for the guard. Satisfied that he was gone, I left the hut and sped across the plateau. Arriving at the edge of another tall cliff I took my well-loved pick off the clip on my belt I vaulted off and dragged my pick down the icy cliff with my weight. When I reached the bottom I climbed up a small rise and stared down at the path I must take; Snjórstein Reach. A steep and narrow path that clings to the side of the mountain, and along the edge it drops so far down you can’t see the bottom. Stowing my pick, I began my long and weary trek.

I awoke from where I sat burrowed in a nook in the rocks and pulled myself to my feet. My body was hardly rested, and my muscles protested any movement. Ignoring my aching and groaning body I pressed on. I spent the rest of the day clambering over rocks jutting out of the path and barely catching myself from sliding off the edge after slipping on a patch of ice. When I came to the end of the path, I recall collapsing and sleeping right out there in the cold for almost 5 hours.

There is a pass called Iskalle Fjell. You haven’t been through it, but I will tell you, it is a tedious trail to travel. The frigid fog of the mountains would gather there, and it would rest so low, you couldn’t see a thing. And several small iced over streams flowed into the pass, creating a slippery and treacherous ice flow. It was practically a glacier. But that’s beside the point. I made it through, though it took me two whole days.

Toke glanced over to see a large yawn escape Yoruuk’s mouth. He softly chuckled and ruffled her hair. “We can stop for now Yoruuk, you should take a rest. I know I could use one.”

She stared at him through heavy lids, “I want to hear the rest of your story, and I’m too old for a nap!”

“I fully intend to finish my story, but if you were to look at yourself dear, you would see that I don’t think you would make it through my tale.” He rose from the old couch and moved to small alcove where blankets were kept on a shelf. Taking one off the shelf, he walked back over to the old cushions where Yoruuk rested and wrapped the blanket around her. She smiled sleepily up at him. “Thank you, Afi Toke.”

Toke smiled softly at her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours, then we can continue my story, Barnabarn.”

Toke stared unblinking at the dirt ceiling above him. He had tried to rest, but the past plagued his weary mind. People should hate him. He is no hero. He’s weak, and a coward. He was just as unworthy now as he had been when the Contingent took him in all those years ago. They defended him with their lives, and all he did was become a bigger burden to them. He still was. Energetic footfalls approaching his door cut off his thoughts. Yoruuk bounded into the dim room and jumped on top of him. “Afi Toke, You told me you would wake me up in a few hours! It’s almost dinnertime! Comeback to the common room so you can finish your story! Pleeease!!”

Toke chuckled and gently lifted her off of him. “I’m coming Yoruuk. Go get us a hot drink while I grab something.”

She looked at him suspiciously then bounced out of the room in search of something warm to sip. Toke smiled to himself at her enthusiasm and rose slowly from his bed. He walked the few steps across the room and stopped at a sturdy dark wood cabinet. Opening a small drawer at the top, he reached inside and pulled out a long object wrapped in worn leather. He tucked it inside his thick vest and shut the drawer.

“Afi Toke, the drinks will get cold!!” Yurruk hollered.

“Barnabarn, I’m coming.” Toke closed his door and strode to the common room. Yoruuk was stretched out on the couch a blanket pulled up to her chin. She shifted her legs, to make room for him and he sat down. He looked at her all bundled up and smiled. “Are you ready dear?”

“Yes, Afi Toke. Now can you pleeeease continue the story!!!”

Toke stroked his rough beard thoughtfully,“Now where was I?”

She groaned dramatically and shook the couch. “You were about to tell me what happened after you made it through Iskalle Fjell!”

“Aah, yes. Now I remember…”

I survived the treacherous pass of Iskalle Fjell but much worse was to come. I still had yet to cross Dødhollow, which was a part of the Wastelands. The barren land was full of hidden pit traps, bogs, and mines planted by the Jackals. The land had once been fields of thriving crops and had bordered a lush forest. It had been the Dødhollow for so long no one remembered its original name. To my misfortune, the Wastelands were the one place in Scaarsland history where my knowledge was lacking. So, when I arrived at the entrance to Dødhollow I had very much dreaded making the crossing. I remember staring out at the murky landscape from a rock outcropping. I gathered my wits and strength and set out.

The first trap I came across was a deep hole in the ground concealed by thatch and mud. I ended up stepping on an outer weak spot, and the ages old covering crumbled in on itself. I had been close enough to solid ground that I fell back in time and caught myself. Hesitantly I peeked over the edge and shuddered at what almost was my death. A sharp and pointed spear was planted in the center of the pit, an instant death to any unsuspecting traveler. Wincing I wobbled to my feet and cautiously moved forward.

The next trap, this time natural, was a bog. Because of how untouched and avoided Dødhollow had become the land became a home for all things dangerous and anything intelligently made became a thing of the wild. The bog blended in perfectly with the marshland, so I didn’t see it until my foot stepped right in. It sucked up my ankle and calf and thigh instantly. I stumbled in behind it, and splashed into the murk. If I hadn’t had my rope with me that day, I wouldn’t be alive right now.

The next trap I came across was the most brutal and hard to survive of them all. A mine. The Jackals were a vicious and heartless species. But they were also brilliant. They designed technology that blew away all the other realms. But they hid it and let no one use it. Until the War of Wars. A nearby realm attacked the Jackals to steal their technology. They failed, and the Jackals unleased their weapons on everyone. Few of the realms survived. Only with the help of the powerful and wise Skymen did any of us make it. The Skymen did all they could to help us salvage our land, but they could not spare any more of their army due to the losses. So, the Wastelands were abandoned. No one dared to cross the dangerous minefields. Until I came along.

I poked my long stick uncertainly at the ground in front of me. No explosion. Good. It had taken hours to make it this far, but I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t realize my pick was hanging loose till it was too late. It fell from my waist and set off a chain reaction. First one ear ringing explosion then 3 more in sequence. I clamped my hands around my head and curled into a ball. If the detonations came any closer, I would become just a spatter on the ground. I listened as the bangs and blasts continued farther away. I was safe. For now.

I finally made it through Dødhollow. It took another day of tedious poking of my stick, but there were no other explosions. After making it through a dense fog, I stared at the land before me. I had arrived. Drakenfjord.