Lore 2:2 — The Trail & The Cliff
The snowstorm still rages. The wind drives you forward. It howls like a starving pack of wolves. There actually is a den of grey wolves around here. They wouldn’t be outside in this brutal weather, though. You shudder. You wouldn’t want to be caught out here by that pack alone.
Wondering where the Bigfoot took shelter, snow stings your eyes as you seek their tracks. They’re wearing human footgear. That much you can tell. But their prints become more and more covered by the snow.
You follow them over peak and trail. You note, with some interest, that they can move like Yeti to some extent. But they think like humans. You can tell. They don’t leap peaks. They’re cautious. They’re using human gear, too, like ice axes and caltrops. You see their marks scarring the ice and rocks of sheer drops you’d just jump down to clear. You’d be offended, if you weren’t so curious. What kind of Cryptid could have become so… human?
You come to the end of the trail and rest on a peak. Your chest rises and falls with the effort of your arduous journey. Below you spreads a view of wonder that never fails to touch your heart.
Jagged peaks compete with clouds for which are closest to the sun. Their crags meet sky in walls of white. They form an ancient guard. They are a natural, towering bowl around this sacred place: The Hidden Ridge.
All is gleaming white and blackest ash. Shade plays with sun on snow-streaked slopes and ravines. One deep slash in the mountain leads to a valley bottomed by green and brown scrub. It’s too close to the humans for your liking. But this is where the Bigfoot tracks lead you as you leap from peak to peak.
You hear a soft grunt from below. A horned yak casts a majestic shadow against the setting sun. It stands alone on a nearby peak. Its head is bent to graze.
Suddenly a sharp crack ricochets through the mountains. It starts a disorienting echo that lasts for minutes.
A jet of blood spurts from the yak’s head as it falls backwards. You sense its pain and shock. And you feel it turn numb as its life ebbs away.
From below, you hear a thud, howls and cheers.
Leaping to the lower crag, you cloak yourself and become one with the snow and clouds. You have found the enemy. The yak has fallen at their feet in the clearing below.
“Great shot!” hoots a Bigfoot wearing a weird puffy pelt. He is tall, muscular and..shaven?! His face looks hairless!
“What the…” you mutter to yourself. Revolted, you see two Bigfoot at least 30 feet away down there — one male, one female. That means there’s another one uncounted for you still have to find.
Suddenly, you hear another sound like somebody else just dropped a yak from 30 feet into a pile of snow — a “whump.” You know that sound quite well. The weapon’s echoes have released a deadly avalanche!
The Bigfoot take one look at the oncoming assault of blinding white and flee in terror, scuttling and tripping on the gravel.
You crouch, grinning as you jump to take the tons-strong wave. This barrage of snow is lethal enough to decimate entire cities. It would mean certain death to anyone who wasn’t a Yeti of the Hidden Ridge. But you’ve been surfing avalanches since you were a tiny cub. Your huge padded feet are perfect for the task. You love every second of it.
You’d normally yell in delight the whole way down. But you know you must be silent so as not to alert the Bigfoot to your presence. The roar of tons of falling snow cannot mask their fearful cries.
After only a minute, you surf to the top of the clearing and stand straight once more. Everything is silent and purest white.
You wonder if the Bigfoot have been buried. You listen, your ears perked. All you hear is wind. Even its usual shriek is muffled by the merciless blanket of snow. The mountains tower all around. They seem to watch expectantly.
“Help!”
You cautiously make your way to the source of the scream through the soft powder. You see the ledge, the humble start of a cliff, where the Bigfoot thought they’d be safe. But the avalanche hit there, too.
The female yeti kneels, frantically trying to dig out her companion. When she sees you, she staggers back and scrambles for her weapon. You smell her fear when she realizes she must have dropped it.
She puts her hands up in the air and suppresses a sob. You almost have mercy on her. Then, you remember the hole in Ragna’s head.
You bare your fangs and scowl with menace. She recoils.
She is smaller than your kind. She also wears a strange puffy pelt sectioned like stomach muscles. But it’s furless and deep blue. Something like little teeth connects it in the middle. Her feet are covered in human’s boots — all her clothes are human in some way. Her face, to your disgust, is also shaven.
You raise the weapon you found in the cave at her.
“Foolish primate!” she screams. “You don’t know how to use that!”
You shoot at the smaller ledge hanging quite a few feet over her head. Shards of rocky shrapnel scratch her face. A clump of snow falls near the hole. She falls to her knees and tries to dig out her partner again.
“I learn quickly,” you shrug. “Is your friend still breathing?”
“I — I’m not sure,” she gulps.
You approach the hole, never taking your eyes or the weapon off of her. You send tendrils of life source towards the Bigfoot in the hole, expecting some sort of response in kind.
He is decidedly dead.
“He is gone.”
Her eyes widen. She gasps but she doesn’t stop digging.
“There is no point in retrieving him. The Ridge takes what it takes.”
She swallows. Then she begins to run, falling and scrambling as she tries to make her way through the thick, soft snow.
You reach her in two easy strides and pull out your forearm-long hunting knife. She struggles and lands a few sharp kicks. She seems to be trained in combat. But she obviously did not train well enough for unarmed combat in the snow.
You are born of snow and ice. This is your land. These Bigfoot have come to taint it with blood and destruction. The only mercy you will have is on those waiting in that cage of horrors.
You pull her back by her dark, tangled hair and lock her wrists with one hand. You scratch her throat with your knife. A tiny drop of blood appears. She freezes and remains still.
“Why are you hurting my people?” you ask calmly.
She does not reply.
You scratch a little deeper.
She screams, a shrill, sharp sound that echoes through the Ridge.
“Where are the keys?”
She tries to twist out of your hold but you easily subdue her.
“You have a choice. Either tell me what is going on and give me the keys, or I will slaughter you the way you slaughtered that yak.”
She spits. “I don’t have the keys.”
“Who does?” you demand. Again she is silent.
“Who does?” you ask again. Your calm is beginning to crack.
She opens her mouth to speak. Suddenly, her dark brown eyes flicker with hope as she looks at something behind you. But you already felt its wind.
You roll out of the way. An ice axe marks the spot where your head was a split second before.
The third Bigfoot is upon you.
You easily trip him as he tries to swing again. His axe falls from his grasp. Snarling, he leaps on you. You roar in fury as you grapple together. Claws and teeth rend flesh. You slide and fall and tumble. Throes of battle echo throughout the Ridge. Snow turns pink with blood and setting sun.
Closer and closer you come to the edge of the cliff. Your knees on his shoulders, you rip the strange pelt from his wiry body and dig your claws into his neck as you choke him. The force slides the both of you to the very edge.
The Bigfoot’s body is parallel with the drop-off. You turn your head and your breath catches in your throat. The center of a gleaming turquoise lake spreads below at a drop of about 150 feet. Its shores are already burnished orange by the sunset.
“Where are the keys?” you grunt with the effort of restraining him.
He smiles through your choke, a glint of evil in his black eyes. Your legs have forced his arms against his own. With two jerks of his fingers he removes the keys from a leg pocket. In half a second he nudges them off the cliff into the waiting lake below.
You’ve never known such rage. You twist his grinning head and hear the crack of his spine. His life force expires to leave a strange, oily residue in your senses, as if its very essence was corrupted. And that you knew for truth.
But this Bigfoot is no longer a threat.
You look at the trail the woman Bigfoot left after she escaped you and shake your head. You hope she doesn’t make it back to the cave before you do.
You dive off the edge of the cliff.
Read more Legendao Lore:
Prelude
Introduction of the three Yeti
Kwaneg
Mahukwa
Richter
Baseline lore:
Area 1:
Lore Part 1: — The Cave —
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