# The Ice King Prophecy



## Insight (Nov 19, 2004)

The fire burned hot in those days.  Huddling around its chaotic warmth, we of the Broken Tusk Tribe drank winterberry wine and sang songs once dreamed of by our ancestors.  Little did we know of what was to come, and what heroes we might find amongst our modest people.

For those of us with generations' worth of knowledge about the Land of Eternal Winter, we knew scant little about the lands to the north.  What we knew was that strange lands were borne beyond the Great Glacier.  Tales of witchery, great deserts, nights and days of equal lengths, all sorts of other unbelievable tales.  Legends to be sure, and those few brave souls of our people who had journeyed beyond the Great Glacier returned to our ancestors and told these tales, and it was only their word that made these places seem in any way credible.

But this was a night of celebration, not solemn and wondrous reflection.  Chaiga, wife of the late Chieftain, was born a son, called Tomak, named for his father, the great Tomak the Seal-Slayer.  Since the shamen and chieftains spoke directly with The Gods, such children were highly prized within the People of the Broken Tusk.  Thus was a celebration of this magnitude very much called for.

Chaiga was now an old woman, who had seen more than 35 summers.  She was in fact one of the oldest members of our tribe.  Normally, tradition held that those long in years could no longer travel with the tribe, but we of course made an exception for one such as Chaiga.  After all she held not one but two ties to the tribe rule - she was wife of Tomak the Seal-Slayer and also mother to the current Chieftain, Barag, Son of Tomak the Seal-Slayer.  As an old woman of inestimable prominence in the tribe, Chaiga held court during this celebration of her birth, which no doubt irked Barag, who was just now getting used to being the focus of attention.

For my own part, my name is Irdo, Son of Sirit, and first born son of the Shaman.  As part of the inner circle of tribe leadership, I have been witness to many things, and privy to many secrets.  My father instilled in me the realization that shamen are bearers of secrets, and protect their chieftain's secrets to the grave.  Such was my lot in life, and this duty did me far more harm than good.

One such secret concerning Barag was his hatred of Chaiga, his mother.  The Chieftain wanted her dead, and had more than once insinuated that the old woman was too much of a burden on the tribe.  He would not say so in front of the tribe of course, but as I was his confidante, it was my burden now.  Such knowledge can be a danger, as I later learned.

As the fire grew dim, and old Chaiga and her attendants drew her into a tent to nurse her newborn son, the men gathered to discuss future plans.  We were badly in need of shelter against a coming ice storm.  My father had foreseen this storm, and it would be far too destructive to weather such a storm in the open.

Petrin was my best friend, and a warrior and hunter of some prominence within the tribe.  During the warriors' discussions, he and I would huddle together to talk about what we really thought was going on.

Petrin again called me over near a rocky outcropping, which overlooked the great Valley of Stars.  It was said that from this valley, one could view all of the stars in the sky.

"There are no signs of a coming storm," Petrin began.  "I should not say more... but you know of what I speak."

I adjusted my furs and armor in a vain attempt to delay my reply.  "My father is the wisest man in our tribe, Petrin," I answered back.  "To say anything more is wrong."

"I know..." Petrin dutifully replied.  I could tell it pained him to make such inferences.  "It's just that our tribe is so dependent on Sirit for his premonitions and omens.  Could you not interpret them just as well?"

Shocked at such a question, I turned from gazing upon the full valley in front of us to stare directly upon my longtime friend and ally.  "How can you even suggest such a thing?  Sirit speaks to The Gods.  Surely, I am not capable of such a feat."

Petrin smiled.  "You never know until you try."

I turned from him and slowly ascended an embankment.  He followed.

"Look, Irdo," Petrin continued.  "You are going to be Shaman yourself one day.  How do you know it's not now?"

"What would you know of these things?" I shot back, continuing to climb the steady elevation.  "You are a hunter, Petrin, not a man of spirits."

He finally stopped me just as I had reached the pinnacle of the shallow rise.  "Sometimes those closest to the riddle cannot see the answer," he said.  "Look deep inside you.  I see your wisdom."

And it was that moment that I first began the journey that would lead me beyond the Great Glacier, and the adventure of a lifetime.


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## Mortepierre (Nov 20, 2004)

Let me be the first to congratulate you for a very enticing first post. You certainly captured the particular flavor of an environment not many use in their SH. Looks promising indeed


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