tofi's trail

It started on a particularly lovely summer day. People were enjoying the beach, ice cream, and the warm weather, unless they were working and feeling annoyed at being forced to work during such a nice day. That was what the day had been like, until a strong wind started to blow, dragging with it heavy clouds that quickly covered the sky. As people stared in shock and confusion, grabbing the blankets and towels they had been laying on to try to protect themself against the sudden chill, the covered sky made the ground dark. Until the snow started to fall. Large, wet snowflakes, incredibly cold to the touch. Some started to make their way to find shelter and warmth, and those who didn't... Well. Let's say the hail that didn't wait long to start to fall could easily knock indentations in a man's head.

It didn't take long before the ground was covered in white snow, and soon people were wading through deeper and deeper masses of it. It was impossible to believe that just a little while earlier, the town had been a summer paradise. The only thing speaking of it was the light clothing that people wore, from t-shirts and swim trunks to bikinis and flip-flops. Those still trying to find shelter that were lucky enough to not have been knocked out with rocks of hail shivered, growing bluer and bluer by the minute.

Osovar was one of those caught in the sudden storm, a short half-elf taking a needed break from adventuring by hitting on men at the beach and outside cafés nearby, while his best friend was targeting men deeper into the town. He didn't know where she was, or if she was safe, but he was sure Gifkaen could handle herself and find shelter sooner than Osovar seemed to be able to.

Due to Osovars height, the snow was quickly reaching past his knees, up his thighs. It covered his skin, making him shiver at the unpleasant feeling og it moving up into his short trousers. He had made his way through difficult terrains before, he had met obstacles to climb past, but last time he was in such cold weather it had been on purpose and he had been dressed appropriately. But dressed so lightly, in a very thin tunic and shorts that barely covered anything, he was at a disadvantage and barely in any better position than the common folk that had little to no experience with abnormalities.

He had finally passed the long stretch of beach and simple, now broken huts in the area. The path to the town trailed through a thin forest, only a few hundred meters that seemed such a long distance in the current situation, and Osovar could see bumps where it was likely that people lay buried under the snow. Somehow, he himself had only been hit once, and then only in the shoulder.

He would grasp his arcane focus to turn to an animal, but when the hail first started falling he had seen a crab get hit and utterly destroyed, and now in the forest, he could see a hare stuck to a tree, hit mid-leap. The people that were hit were at least less likely to be killed by a rock of hail, and would more easily be knocked unconscious and somewhat bloody. He may be an adventurer, but Osovar was not keen on dying.

Osovar was just ready to breach the forest and push his way into town when something large fell from the sky, larger than the hail rocks. Snow burst up like a sparkling white volcano eruption, swaying the closest trees with the pressure from the impact. Snow fell from the trees and to the ground, covering and knocking down the people trying to make their way through. Osovar, too, found himself completely covered in snow, his face pressed into the cold wetness. Each breath as he regained his bearings dragged snowflakes into his nose, and when he managed to push his upper body up from underneath the snow he sputtered out globs of the stuff. It tasted foul, like snow a dog had pissed on.

As he pushed himself out of the snow with a bit of a struggle and a wince as he was hit in the back by a hard rock, Osovar saw a large silhouette in front of him, that sharpened into white on white. It had three round balls piled on top of each other, an eerie smile made out of pebbles, a root vegetable nose reminiscent of a hag’s, and arms of sticks that adjusted its tophat. With its empty eyes, the snowman looked down at Osovar, and a shiver that had nothing to do with how cold he was ran through Osovar’s whole body.

He scrambled to get up in the snow and found it now reached his waist and was extremely difficult to make way through. The snowman made its way closer. It slid on top of the fallen snow, not the least bit slowed while Osovar struggled.

The snowman was upon Osovar quickly, and pinned him down into the snow, pushing him deeper and deeper. Osovar’s scratching at the snow did nothing to get him free, nor did his decreasing body heat help in keeping his movements nimble. Osovar felt snow pile on top of him, stiffening his body as the snowman forced his legs up to sit in an awkward crouch. His body seemed to freeze into ice, the only thing protecting him from the scratching of the stick arms' sharpness.

There was a tug at Osovar’s shorts, his heels were pried apart painfully, ignoring how his knees had locked in place. Osovar let out a whine, muffled by snow. He let out a protest as something cold and slippery nestled between his feet, and he felt something press against his rear. Not again! was his immediate thought. He didn't know what was sliding in a searching way against his bare skin, but he had had too many cocks press up against him against his wishes for his mind not to go there automatically.

But it was sharp, in a different way from that one lizard’s cock had been. Freezing, slippery, and pointy. When it scraped against Osovar’s skin and he felt a burn, Osovar realised just how pointy it was, Osovar stilled, scared because he instinctively knew that if it pierced him the wrong way, he would be impaled by the icicle.

It was adjusted, and the fear Osovar was feeling filled him up. Osovar had to force himself not to struggle, knowing that it was already too late to escape without the risk of severe maiming.

The icicle’s tip was pressed against Osovars tense ring of muscles. Osovar tried to relax, knowing that it would only be worse if he didn't, but there his body refused to cooperate. The icicle was pressed to slowly breach Osovars anus. It really was cold, and because it wasn't malleable, Osovar soon felt it scrape against his inside walls with its sharp tip. His inner body temperature, not yet quite freezing, was the only thing that enabled the icicle to slide deeper inside without causing any severe damage, softening it up just enough for it to melt slightly.

Osovar’s ass was stretched wider and wider as the icicle was pushed further in. His intestines were washed with the cold and pain as Osovar was stretched open too far too quickly with no preparation, and it made the half-elf scream into the snow. He breathed it in, involuntarily swallowing mouthfuls of the foul stuff. It chilled his body further, making him feel as though his entire body was an entire clump of ice and not a living person.

The snowman pinning him down ignored his pain, and simply kept pushing and pushing, the icicle growing so wide that Osovar’s feet were pried even further apart with the creaking sound of stiff knees.

When the icicle finally finished its breach, Osovars ass closed around it as though swallowing it, and the snapping of bones was loud. The pain of his knees breaking was delayed, but when Osovar finally felt it, an agonised scream was ripped from his throat. It was abruptly cut off as scratchy branch hands pushed something inside his mouth. His tears were frozen on his face, and his eyes were like frozen orbs that didn't feel, but definitely saw, how the stick fingers neared it, slipping in under his eyelids one by one. He was blinded, the snowman ripping his eyes out of their sockets with no hesitation. The pain was finally too much, and the bloody blackness that was Osovars sight turned into nothing as he passed out.

Osovar woke up not long after. It was hard to know exactly how soon it was, but by the pain in his body he could tell that he couldn't have been out for very long. He sobbed in pain. He couldn't feel his face, he couldn't see, he couldn't move, and his insides were filled with the icicle to the brim. His stomach felt bloated by what had to be snow, his skin felt brittle. He couldn't smell anything, not even the wetness of the snow.

Something was moving around him, and he could feel the pressure of touch shift through something. The cold was everywhere.

He thought he blinked, but he realised that his sight had simply returned. He tried to blink, to ensure himself that he saw right. He couldn't blink. Everything was in monochrome, shades of white, black, and gray. Any colour the world once had was completely gone. His mind felt glassy, like it too was coated by a layer of ice. His insides shifted as he scooted forward. His arms flailed, unused to the movement, and his mouth lacked lips. He heard stone clack against stone. By an instinct that Osovar didn't know, Osovar moved out of the forest to find... Something. He didn't yet know, only he knew that he would once he saw it.

But he saw himself first. A darkened shop window was like a mirror, and Osovar halted in front of it, pulling back in fear. The reflection did the same. Shocked and denying it, Osovar drew closer, and saw the image do so as well. His fingers scratched the glass, thin like twigs and covered in brown bark. He reeled backward once more, away, away from the image that he knew to be his own.

He spotted a fallen humanoid, and slid over to it. It struggled as his stick hands pressed it down into the deep snow. His despair faded to the background as he knew his purpose; he needed to subdue this creature, and turn it into a perfect being just like he was. Everything needed to be cold and glittering, and soon this being too would be a snowman, just like he now was.

The Snowman Invasion