Squinting, Cero tried to look at the horizons. All he could see was expanses of snow and the ragged peaks that hemmed him in on all sides. Trying to remember, he thought he had seen an opening in the peaks from the lookout so he turned in that direction. It turned out that the snow field he had landed in was a sort of plateau that required him to climb down to get off of. His hands were raw from his failed attempt at clinging to the cliff face so it took longer than it should have normally taken to climb down. When he had reached the bottom of the climb, he began skirting the wall of rock. Not a track marred the high snows meaning that few, if any, were the creatures that braved these heights.
Coming around a bend in the wall Cero saw a patch of earth that the constant wind had worn the snow and ice clear of. Seeing something white against the brown earth, he moved forward. When he was a few paces away, he recognized the scene for what it was. The bleached and eroded bones were scattered, but one could still make out the undulating serpentine form attributed to a dragon. This one was not as large as he had heard tales of. The ferocious Vaulwar Dragons were said to be mighty creatures taller than a man. These bones belonged to something that looked more graceful than the tales had suggested. Bones were scattered here and there, but he could see the long thin wing bones laying where they had fallen around the body that was curled around itself as if sleeping. The horned skull gaped with most of its needle sharp teeth still intact.
Gazing on the final resting place of the majestic beast, Cero couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness. This must have been one of the last dragons to live in the Garoche Mountains. Stories told of how they had died out hundreds of years ago. Now, only the Vaulwar dragons remained. Stepping respectfully through the grave site, he discovered that the dragon seemed to be curled around a small heap of broken crystals. Picking a piece up, he held it up to the sun and looked at the black glass like rock interwoven with veins of semi-transparent white. Closer examination unearthed a smooth round undamaged crystal. Slightly oval in appearance, this one glowed more of a blue when held to the light. You couldn’t see through it, but against the sun, it gave the effect of glowing from within. Wiping the dust off revealed a flawlessly smooth surface. It was small enough that Cero was able to put his hands together with it between them and touch his fingers around it with ease. Further search revealed that this was the only specimen of the strange rock that had survived the ages. It was lighter than its size suggested so with one last look at the skeleton he decided to keep it as a memento.
With the strange stone secured in a pocket of the strange pants the dwarves had dressed him in, Cero looked at the clouds again. They were even more threatening now than ever. The sun was sinking lower behind the mountains at his back so he figured that he had to be on the eastern side of the Garoche. With this to guide him, he made for the lower elevations. Abandoning the wall, he struck out. This nearly cost him his life when the endless whiteness suddenly opened up into a yawning precipice in the ice. Skirting this, he proceeded with more caution while trying to keep to the edge of the ice fields if possible.
It was after descending another rock wall at the base of an ice field that Cero made a grisly discovery. A dark object in the snow had caught his attention. Thinking it a rock, he moved on without giving it another thought. It was only when he was a few dozen paces away that he saw movement. Closer examination nearly made him gag. A man frozen as solid as the surrounding snow sat hugging his knees staring into the distance with hardly a rag on his body. His long hair being tossed about in the building wind had been what had caught Cero’s attention. The unfortunate man’s demise had not been recent, but the perpetually cold dry climate had preserved him in remarkable detail.