After discovering the destination riddled with ice, our hero has to solve an ancient puzzle that wasn't even supposed to be there, faced with the inevitable fate of having to back track his every steps after realizing he has failed when he thought h...
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(Penguins in Antarctica picture taken from google images.)
Culhero's nostrils blasted the Pillar of ice with streaks of condensation as his face slumped against it. Sliding down as if he had given up the entire mental battle. His hooves were like rocks against a cryptic symbol on the ground that seemed to be outlined in some mystic vivid blue light that thankfully couldn't be scratched off. If that were possible, then hope could never be reignited in the Uaccam's heart.
The bull man snarled in frustration as he peered behind himself at the six other symbols and all the supposed right "ingredients" he had for the opening. He stomped back to the middle of the heptagram and began to turn around in a fury.
"A diamond, a used clock, the tongue of a fire lizard, a brandished ice blade, the blade of someone who has scarred me the worst, a totem lit, and a hand full of snow." He walked over to that side of the heptagon with the snow. Kneeling down, he began to cup the snow and measure whether it was the full Approximate measurement.
He would hysterically breathe while cupping, scraping, scrape back and than cup again.
Cup, scrape, scrape back and than cup again
After a few seconds he threw his armored hands up in the air, stomping back to the center. His dark brown eyes glaring at the pillar of ice, blasting his nose again. Small patches of ice sickles being blown away from his arm length full beard. He pulled his two handed fiery blade out with a moment of hesitance.....and than exploded! swinging long slashes into the pillar. Melting streaks into it, only for the ice to re-form and re-freeze itself back to perfect shape. Swing after swing.
Culhero could see the face of an old Uaccam through some of the slits in the fire and his eyes broke into slight tears as he stabbed his blade half length into the ice below him. Collapsing his ten foot self unto the blade beginning to slump into it. His depression making him numb as he hung against the handle as he thought repeatedly "Grandpa..."
Off to the side of this mystery was a dark figure in a black cloak holding his hand out trying to think of what right things to say to get his attention away from the pillar for good and stop this insanity.
It may be another key that was never suppose to be found, let alone thought of.
