…And so the All Father appeared to Signud Raskarson and spoke to him “Why do you seek knowledge of that which is unsafe to you?” But Raskarson was a troll of the lineage of heroes, proud and fierce, and refused to accept the wisdom offered by The Old Man, and so he set out on a quest for answers. He left his land far behind, seeking, searching, until eventually he came across an old crone pulling a sled with four or five blocks of ice on it, which she would use to keep her meat fresh. Being a Noble soul, Raskarson spoke to the old woman “Grandmother let me carry that for you” and he did, lugging the ice to her home.
The Old woman’s home was but a cave carved in the stone wall, but it was furnished richly, with curtains and a fire roaring in a hearth. She spoke to Raskarson “Stay here tonight, and tomorrow you will find what you seek.” Hearing wisdom in her words, Raskarson sat on the palet she had designated. She fed him richly, and he fell asleep in the warm glow of the fire.
He was awoken the next morning by a bitingly cold wind, and looked around in shock. The furnishing of the cave had disappeared. There was no trace of the old woman, not even burn marks in the hallow that had served as a hearth. As he looked around the cave, he saw that the cave went much deeper than he had expected. He walked into the depths of the cave, through winding tunnels and over sharp precipices, until he came upon a room which shone with it’s own brilliance. Within this room a number of men and woman stood, each more beautiful than the last. Raskarson looked upon them in wonder, for he realized that he looked upon the lesser gods, the Children of the All Father, of the Winter, who had sprung forth from the Winter as all life does.
He Gazed on them, and for a moment thought of the All Father in hatred and anger, anger that he had hidden these from Mankind. He walked towards the closest figure and looked more closely at it, peering down at it’s quickly moving hands, and saw with horror that this figure held the souls of many dead in it’s hands, counting them over and over, greedily eyeing the souls the others held. Horrified, he backed away, into another figure which paid him no mind, busy as it was building and tinkering, using the souls it had captured as fuel for it’s machines. And Raskarson realized that each and every figure in the room held souls, which it was using for it’s pleasure: One in the distance was torturing them, another watched in apathy as it’s souls drowned, another had lined up it’s souls in a line, and was beheading them one by one, reciting a list of crimes, another’s souls were burning with a deep and cruel flame. All around, similar scenes of Depravity and Sin were being repeated. Until Raskarson noticed, in the back, a last figure, which was doing nothing but watching it’s fellows with a smile. Then it turned, and spoke to Raskarson in s voice redolent with sadness “Despair, mortal, for this is what awaits you in death.”
Raskaron’s courage failed him, and he ran from the chamber, into the arms of the All Father, who looked sadly into the room. “Sad, isn’t it? I created them to be perfect, but perfection does not last. Do you now understand why I didn’t want you to know?”
“So it is true, then? That is what happens to the dead?”
“To those who do not know the truth, death is a terror, for I cannot save those who do not save themselves first. Those I Save sit with me for eternity, unchanging, undying, uncorrupted, pure….”
-Extract from the Book of Winter
