Snow Elven Culture

had the pleasure to come to know and befriend on my journey through their lands. 

 

Theirs is a tale as old as time. One that I sadly cannot do the same honour that a battle skald could deliver it with. Be that as it may I shall do my best. It all started long ago. In the age of adventure when the land was new and the Elves inhabiting it newer still. A clan of Elves known as the Sivier ventured north of the woodland realms. In this northern land they found nothing but danger and harsh conditions. Yet still they carried on with souls and spirits as resolute and courageous as before. 

 

However it was when they reached the great northern mountain range when their greatest threat appeared. Winter was fast approaching. But the Elves knew they still had time to pass through the mountain paths before the winter frost settled in. Indeed that would have been the case. If not for a truly divine intervention. For fate would not seem to be on the Elves' side that day. Just as they had finished leading the last of their clan into the small pass through the mountain a great wind swept through. Their breath froze before their eyes. As a torrent of hail and snow poured from the heavens. The Sivier had no hope but to shelter where they were with what they had. 

 

This however would not prove to be enough. For five long days the Sivier stayed in that valley. They boiled snow to make drinking water. They huddled in their furs and used what little resources they had to keep fires alight. Food ran scarce and fire wood even rarer. The fifth night would end with the last of the Sivier being frozen solid. Some froze huddled together for warmth, while others were stone solid in place as they were standing. Like statues they stood as the one who cursed them to such a fate watched from above. 

 

Flykra had been watching the Sivier to some degree or another the entire time. Though it was at this last minute as he watched the last of them freeze that Flykra looked down with pity. For it was his storm of rage and anger that had swept down upon them. He was the one who caused their demise. But Flykra and his storms have and continue to cause much pain and suffering so what was the difference here? Why did he weep for these when so few even get a single tear? They say it is because of their determination. For even in the last minutes the Sivier yelled against the storms and called on them to cease. To fight against the storm was something Flykra admired. And so it was. Flykra restored the Sivier, transforming them to live in the new frozen land they would come to inhabit. Though they thawed from their statue-like stature. Their skin remained pale, sometimes slightly blue, their hair would be as white as the snow that buried them. They would become the Seige or Snow Elves in the common tongue that we know today. 

 

As they set out on their new northern land they splintered and changed in many ways. But the Snow Elves all have many things in common. Their love for physical competition be it wrestling hunting or simplying fighting they love it all. Their old tradition of storytelling and poetry is unsurpassed though rarely is any of it written down. In many ways they are like their god Flykra. Quick to emotion and action. They adore a challenge and are quick to raise themselves and shout back at thunder and storms. 

 

Rarely do Snow Elves like to answer to others. Perhaps this is partly why no large kingdoms or nations have ever emerged in their lands. Rather they usually centre themselves around small communities rarely ever growing larger than small towns. But these communities are usually quite tight knit groups always ready to lend a hand to their fellow Elves.