Erazarth, the Nameless Frost
The legend of Erazarth, the Nameless Frost, weaves a chilling tale of a spectral entity haunting the Nevermelting Fields. It is said that to speak one’s name aloud in the frozen expanse is to invite the creature’s wrath. Once summoned, Erazarth moves in utter silence, striking those who dare meet its gaze. Those that dare to tread through the cursed lands of Ilmos God of the Hunt and Nature will find themselves lost for all time should they lose their way. The nameless frost is said to consume the very essence of a person's being and consumes not their soul, but their very name itself causing everyone to forget the existence of the individual. It is said that in doing so the nameless can return back to a more natural state and is freed from the bonds of modern culture. The myth serves as a dire warning to travelers to stay out of the lands.
Historical Basis
The myth is deeply rooted in the history of the Nevermelting Fields. Not long ago, the Silver Plains were a lush and fertile land, nurtured by the goddess stone’s divine power. When the abericlase went dark, the goddess stone's protection failed, freezing the plains and burying its giant guardians. Some Skarr believe Erazarth is a manifestation of the giants’ lingering spirits, transformed into a vengeful force after their tragic sacrifice. Others interpret it as divine punishment from Ilmos God of the Hunt and Nature for the mortals’ perceived hubris. All that is stated is by worth of mouth now and no actual sightings of Erazarth have been documented, not at least from those that are known.
Spread
The legend of Erazarth is regionally known among the Skarr and the northern tribes who revere the Nevermelting Fields as sacred and dangerous. Among these groups, it is common knowledge and often used to instill caution in younger generations. Outside the region, the myth is obscure, regarded as little more than folklore by scholars and travelers unfamiliar with the frozen expanse. However, the few adventurers who survive harrowing encounters in the fields occasionally spread unsettling tales of silence, forgotten names, and the ghostly presence that seems to stalk the snow.
"Speak not your name where the frost does creep, Lest silence fall and your soul does weep. The nameless gaze will seal your plight, With one cold stare, you're lost to the night."
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