Ymirkin

"It didn't say anything at first, and then everything got heavier and colder and sharper. Then it spoke, it sounded like it was... brittle. It said 'why have you come, warmblood, to a place where even the heat of the sun stays await?'"

 

Frozen Remnants

  The ymirkin are small, hunched figures of frost and cunning, creatures said to have been born of the first breath of winter itself. Standing no taller than a child but with an air of agelessness about them, these icy denizens are cloaked in ragged garments spun from snowflakes and woven frost. Their skin glimmers pale as fresh fallen snow, marked with faint blue veins that pulse like slow, frozen rivers. Along their backs sprout jagged, icicle-like spines that shimmer faintly under moonlight, giving them the appearance of a living shard of winter.   Their eyes are perhaps their most unsettling feature: pale as glacier ice, they hold a light that flickers like an aurora, betraying a keen intelligence tempered by centuries of solitude. Ymirkin are not creatures of brute strength but of careful calculation. They dwell in the shattered remains of frozen cities, ruins buried deep beneath layers of ancient ice, remnants of a forgotten age. They move between these ruins with an unnerving silence, their steps leaving no imprint in the snow, as though the ice itself bends to their will.  

Remain Frozen

  Legends say that the ymirkin were once stewards of the cold, tending the great glaciers and maintaining the eternal frost. However, the passage of time - and the meddling of mortals - has reduced them to reclusive guardians of what remains. They craft elaborate labyrinths of ice to protect their sanctuaries, halls filled with glittering stalactites and mirrors of frozen water. Those who venture into such places seeking treasure often find themselves hopelessly lost, their reflections leading them astray, their warmth stolen by the cold.   Ymirkin wield powerful magic, drawing on the essence of winter itself. A flicker of their gnarled fingers can summon icy winds strong enough to flay skin, or conjure shards of ice sharper than any steel blade. Despite this, they are not inherently cruel - those who approach with respect and gifts of firelight or warm cloth might find the ymirkin surprisingly amenable. They value knowledge and stories, and it is said they keep ancient tomes and relics from long-frozen civilizations.   Beware, however, the wrath of a ymirkin scorned. Their vengeance is an unyielding as the glaciers they call home, and just as patient. For in the heart of winter, time is an ally, and ice remembers all.