The Peak of Rimeclaw

Above the sea of clouds looms the peak where the oldest ice wyrm guards his nest, and the cold cuts to the marrow. Snow churns around the mountaintop, and within the white a shape coils, vast, glittering, older than the mountains themselves. His breath freezes the air to crystal.

For generations the village at its foot bought its peace with a yearly offering. This year Rijmklauw, de Oudste IJswurm, has refused it, and no one knows why. Since then a deadly cold has crept down the slopes: people, animals, whole houses freeze mid-motion into glittering statues. Within days the front will reach the village.

You climb the peak through frozen storms, across glaciers that groan under a single wrong step, past the icy statues of those who came before you. Along the way you find signs: Rijmklauw did not refuse out of cruelty, but because something, or someone, has violated his nest and stolen an egg. His fury is freezing the world.

At the top waits the choice and the climax. Do you return the wyrm's egg and gamble on his fickle mercy, or face a creature older than the mountains in a battle on a trembling glacier's edge? Whatever you choose, the cold will not wait, and the silence of death creeps steadily down.