Snow Storm - A Backstory of Sorts [Part 2]

Life and all it's unholy glory

 On her own was a nightmare for quite a while. Without her father’s guidance, she often found herself trying to get back to him. Something felt terribly wrong, wandering the road without a troupe to the back of her. The onset of paranoia crept upon her like a spider to a fly. Everything seemed more sick and twisted, and for the first time in her life, she stuck to the sky and slept in the clouds. 

Ahote was it’s name, the Windigo that she spoke to. She knew of the story when there was a time in Equestria where hatred filled the hearts of folk which in turn summoned the Windigo spirits. But there was more to that then ponies liked to admit - or remember. 

The story was more gruesome and pony kind have a dark and aggressive past. It had taken many civilisations to crumble to realise there was a better way. Windigoes were the worst - most savage of them all. Secluded in their icy fortress of the wastes. Beyond Mount Everhoof was the Windigoes who rivalled another kingdom known to be the Alresians. Ahote was born a prince. The seventh son of King Aponivi who was ruler of the Northern Mountain Kingdoms and dictator of the Windigo race. Life within the fortress walls was a consistent battle for dominance. Being the youngest, Ahote struggled to keep up with his six older brothers who trained and fought amongst each other in the courtyards until the day when they would have to fight for the right to rule.  The fortress was a cold, dark place. Not particularly an elegant sight, but instead a nasty piece of work. Many of the Windigo folk were on the brink of starvation, being sent to mine deep into the mountain's malice for crystals in which King Aponivi was obsessed with. He toiled away, harnessing power from these gems, driving himself insane with the ambition to trap a piece of himself inside so he could live forever. The young Ahote pestered his father for attention as a young child would. Alas, Aponivi was reluctant to notice his existence. Nor did he bat an eye at any of his sons. The King treated them like soldiers and expected only order from them.  As years progressed, Ahote had abandonment issues. Residing in his Mother's attention, especially during his classes did Ahote become attached to her like a second shadow. The Queen was very strict, proper and punctual, who held her head up high and always looked down on all others. She spoke firmly and bluntly with the six other brothers on certain occasions which made Ahote wickedly bathe in their failure to please the Queen with their progression to prove themselves. He clung to her hind leg, close and dear. But her death put an end to that. 

 The Queen's death was unseen. She was reported missing one night until the next day, when was found in the courtyard under a withered, old tree with a blade by her wrist. Suicide? Perhaps. Ahote refuted this popular belief. Driven to such grief, his mourning turned to hate, and hate fuelled his desire to prove himself. Ahote blamed his father for the death of his mother, it was his obsession that drove their kingdom to poverty and depression. Ahote wanted nothing more than to kill his very own father. Aggressive? Exaggerated. Indeed. And so was the nature of the Windigo race.  King Aponivi was showing signs of weakness as his body began to wither. His eyes were sunken and his bones showed through his tattered greying coat. The eldest son took a chance at slaying the King. He was utterly shocked to find that the grievous wound spilled not a trickle of blood, from the old man’s chest. Ahote remembered as he idly watched from the back of the throne room as his father pulled the blade from his skeleton like chest to reveal a chasm of rotten flesh. In that instant, Aponivi took the eldest son's blade and struck him back. Barely surviving, the eldest brother struggled to leave the scene as the King had now shown his true form as a full fledged lich.  The Phylactery that the King used to store his soul was hidden way beneath the mountain where no one could obtain it. He was now immortal. His next ambition was to conquer the Known World. His enemy was the neighbouring kingdom of the Alresians. Converted into a hateful soldier, Ahote and his other brothers led their father's army to overwhelm and capture the city. And so, the cunning lich, King Aponivi schemed to surround the walls with their massive numbers of Windigoes. He was eager to finally have his most valued prize. A city ― a mountain ― full of great magic ready for the taking. But from that moment forth, things only got more difficult for him.  They had great magical barriers, powered by the crystals that their magery fed off of, plentiful in their mountain home. The great Underground City of Alresia: Where their vast supply of power floated in the caves ― The Tria Ignium, where they powered their massive shield. Perhaps the grandest the world had ever seen, they could instantly restore the magic used for it. The power of the Three Crystals was right there with them, and could keep whatever magic they would cast alive for centuries, if not for as long as there would be a world to live in. Still, however, the Alresians could not go anywhere. Untouched, but trapped nevertheless.  Yet, despite what had seemed like a hopeless fight for the Alresians, they eventually came up with a plan to defeat the Windigo army. After a fortnight of purely holding their ground successfully against the tyranny of the Windigo King, the leader of the Alresians had finally come to a decision. A decision, that was hard to make. A necessary self-sacrifice. The mad King wanted power, true. He hungered for the Alresian magic, their amulets and gems. With a great force of pure good will, each and every citizen of the Alresian City left their mountain and walked towards their enemy. While their City still held the true power, the King of the Windigo easily fell prey of the sight each Alresian presented to his army. A true surrender, and offering of their own amulets to each of the King’s sons. Including Ahote. 
 Little did they know that the Alresian Magic had one special attribute, one perk that made their shields different from every other. They did not only had physical properties, but psychological ones too. It was not only a barrier to keep away harm, but literally evaluating at all times one’s heart within this shield. What was good would be kept safe and unharmed. But what was evil, those who had a dark heart and only looked towards their success would be purged by the blue protective flame. Each amulet was but one way to activate one shield. But separating it from their host, would also mean death, and in short time too. Which is why the youngest ones were the first to offer their amulets to the King’s sons, and the King himself. They would survive long enough for the plan to go accordingly.  After taking hold of the last and great rival, the King Aponivi decided to spare the poor children of Alresia, nevertheless implying that they would forever be his slaves. As the elders quickly died after gifting their amulets away, the younger ones endured longer, for they still had the body vitality to live on their own, just enough to cast their shield magic upon their respective amulets. A week later, when the King thought he had finally won, the Alresian children set their spells in course, casting their shields upon their respective amulets. Each of the King’s sons and their cities were purged by the blue flame, casting away their kingdom, burning them to ashes. Everything made with evil intent, everything with the spark of darkness was fatefully burned by the Alresian barriers.  The King had fallen to the same fate, by greedily walking into the death trap that was the true City of Alresia. The “Tria Ignium” itself was a power built for good alone. Any harm or corrupted soul that would come near it would have had the same fate as the ones within the Alresian amulet’s shields.  However, there were flaws to this plan that the Alresians had not known. While true, the Windigoes perished due to the flames of the Alresian magic, upon wearing the amulets were the armies converted into lost souls. Drawn to the body of the mountain, the souls plundered the Under Ground City of Alresia, eventually becoming soul trapped within the empty crystals of the chasm walls. This included Ahote. As for the King, Aponivi regenerated near by where his Phylactery lay hidden, within the tomb of the dead Queen’s body. The King still lays there to this very day, waiting to be uncovered perhaps by an ignorant, poor adventurer.  Windigo Knows Best:

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End of Life and all it's unholy glory