Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid.
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