The Creation of the Yak

## The Goddesses' Pity

In the dark ages of the world, while the gods still walked among us and waged war with the Great Winds, humans were lonely and lost. This was the age before the moon, iron, and magic. Our people walked the earth in search of refuge from the everlasting battle between Válni’s armies and the horde of southern winds. Generations had passed when they finally settled upon the valley which we now inhabit, which is sheltered from the winds by mountains and protected from enemies by our goddess Yavka the Verdant. When our ancestors began to make the valley their home, however, they realized something was missing. They had a source of water: the Melévisa River. They had a source of food: the humble freshwater salmon. They had shelter: the old stone fortress upon mount Bravásh. To an observer, their settlement may have seemed perfect, but they still felt that feeling of emptiness. The people began to pray to Yavka, “We lack the wisdom to see that which we are without. We need your guidance, o Lady of the Woods. Hear our cries and know that we are wanting.”

With this, Yavka took pity on them. She toiled 5 days and 5 nights in order to answer their request, but at the end she came to them empty-handed. “I am not the one you need to do this thing. Go to my sister, Yídna, for she is wiser than I am.”

So the folk left in search of Yídna, goddess of the beasts. They met with the Lady Huntress Yídna atop the highest mountain. They came to her with the same request they had her sister: “We lack the wisdom to know that which we are without. Hear our cries and know that we are wanting.”

Yídna too took pity on the poor villagers and set out to help them. She too took 5 days and 5 nights to come to a decision. The final morning she approached the folk with tiredness in her eyes.

### The Three Tasks

“Come to me bringing these things: food which one cannot bite, blood that flows not red, and bark which comes not from a tree. Once these are in my grasp, you shall find what you lack above all else.”

The settlers then left, glad to have a definite task but dissatisfied by the roundabout way Yídna explained it. The elders gathered together the next morning to plan their course of action. By sundown, they came to the village and said: “We have selected a champion who we deem worthy to complete the tasks of the Lady Huntress. The man we have chosen is Vyor Bréganok. Go now, Vyor, and find what we have until now been unable to.”

When hearing this, most of the villagers were very surprised. They weren't ones to question decisions of the elders, but nobody thought Vyor to be of champion quality. He wasn't the strongest, fastest, or most handsome of the boys in the village. The only quality that he had above his peers was his cleverness. The villagers, however, didn't see the value in cleverness. When Vyor set out on the north road, most of the folk all but gave up on him. “He'll die within a week,” they said to each other. “We’d have a better chance if the elders sent out one of farmer Byungar’s pigs, because at least a pig can sniff out truffles in the wood. Vyor couldn't sniff out anything for his life.”

### The First Task

Meanwhile, Vyor Bréganok was already on his way. For his first task, to find food which one cannot bite, Vyor was confident in his direction. His mother told him stories aplenty of Kila, the Goat of Etérya, which Válni, god of honor, uses to feed his army of 500,000. It is said that one droplet of her milk is enough to sustain even the most hungry of families for 5 weeks. So, knowing this, Vyor made the long trek across the mountains to the frozen wasteland of žekédupek. To get to Válni’s war camp, however, young Bréganok had to cross the fields of ice in which the Great Winds of the south tore apart any moving, breathing thing. Luckily for him, Vyor was clever above anything else. When he was moving, he held his breath, and when he needed to catch his breath, he stood completely still and silent. With this method Vyor managed to make it across the ice fields into Válni’s domain without so much as a scratch. Vyor made his way to the largest tent he could see, towering 30 feet above the rest at the center of the camp. He knocked on the wood post holding the tent in place, and a sentry let him in. A booming voice greeted him from far above: “What mortal dares to seek audience with me?”

“I am Vyor Bréganok, son of Vagyor the Smith. I come in search of the Goat of Etérya, whose milk I have been commanded to bring to the goddess Yídna herself.” Vyor said these things with as much confidence he could muster, which was not very much at all.

“And what shall I get in return? I don't care if you are serving Keremok, father of the world, as you must realize that if I gave the milk of Etérya away to any peasant who happens to be thirsty I would milk poor Kila dry within a month. In order to give you what you desire, I require in return something of equal or greater value.”

Vyor took a moment to think. He knew that gods like Válni didn't care for material wealth, so he couldn't pay for it in coin. He knew that Válni had 500 servants who would die for him at a snap of his fingers, so he couldn't pay in servitude. He also knew that what gods loved more than anything was a challenge. He thought one moment longer, and then looked up at the towering god. “I challenge you to a race, O mighty lord of battles. If I win, I get a droplet of milk, and if you win, you may have my soul.”

The god paused a moment before bursting into laughter like a volcano erupting. “You think you can best me? Well then, so be it. I’ll even be so kind as to let you decide the terms of the challenge, my lad.”

Vyor puffed up his chest and spoke more calmly than he ever had before. “We shall start at the southern gate. Then, we shall race on foot to mount Salvyék, through the ice fields. First one to the peak of mount Salvyék wins.”

Válni laughed once more, this time even louder than the last. “You fool! Do you wish for death? You won't make it 5 miles, let alone across the entirety of Jekédupek.”

“I guess we'll see,” Vyor’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

### Vyor Races Válni

So, the next day the two lined up at the south gate. At the count of one of Válni’s soldiers, they set off running into the frozen wastes. Válni instantly proved to be much faster than Vyor. He moved like a river, flowing effortlessly around any obstacle. Vyor, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his time, stopping every so often to catch his breath. When Válni was just out of sight, however, Vyor could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle. Válni, despite his immeasurable speed, was not quite as clever as Vyor. Vyor knew that the winds wouldn't attack if he didn't breathe and move at the same time. Válni had to fight for every inch he ran. At the end of 5 days Válni made it to the mountain, tired but otherwise no worse for wear. As the god took his final steps towards the peak, Vyor shouted from above, “Ho! It seems you've finally made it! I had figured you were lost.”

Válni stared at the boy in bewilderment.

“How are you already here? The winds should have torn you apart days ago!”

“I suppose I got lucky,” Vyor said with a wink. “Now, where is that goat of yours?”

Despite his stubborn nature, Válni realized he had been bested. He reached into his cloak and brought out a small leather pouch. His voice carried more humility than Vyor would have thought possible: “Here, boy. This is worth more than you could ever know, so please don't lose it.”

Vyor took the milk of Etérya and thanked Válni for his kindness. The boy then boldly looked up into the god’s eyes and asked one last question: “Sorry if this is too intrusive, but what color is your blood?”

“Well, red of course! Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” And with that, Vyor went on his way.

### The Second Task

As Vyor set out on the road once more, he began to ponder his next task. For a long time Vyor was confident that he would never find this so-called “blood that flows not red.” As far as he knew, every living thing had red blood. However, one night, after a long day of traveling, Vyor remembered a fishing trip he had gone on with his uncle. Each net they brought up that day was ripped open and completely empty, except for the last. The last net of the day held nothing but a massive jet-black scale covered in a green ooze. Vyor had been frightened of the sea ever since that day, but this seemed like his only chance at acquiring what he was after.

The trek to the sea was a long one, but when he finally reached the shore he spared no time to rest. Vyor took one last breath of air and dove deep below the waves. Even as inexperienced as he was with swimming, Vyor knew that growing up in the mountains made his body need much less air than regular folk. He continued swimming to the bottom for what seemed like hours, until he finally reached the rocky sea floor. Vyor knew that he wouldn’t find his quarry without sacrifice, so he took out his knife and drew it across his arm. The blood quickly spread through the frigid depths, and soon all manner of creatures came out from dark corners of the deep. He avoided these lesser predators as he followed the natural slope of the rocky floor deeper and deeper. Within minutes, Vyor began to hear a loud bellowing followed by the horrid sound of scales scraping against rock, and he knew that he had arrived. Thinking fast, Vyor swam away from the sound towards a deep and narrow canyon. He wound his way through the depths and heard the scraping sound get louder and louder in his ears. The walls got narrower and narrower, and eventually closed in over his head. His lungs burned with the effort now, and he knew he would need to head back to the surface as soon as he could. He heard a thunderous cracking sound just before reaching the end of the cave, and he struggled as fast as he could back to the surface. After taking a few shuddering breaths, Vyor made his way back down to the opening of the cave, where he found a massive shattered horn which was easily larger than his arm. He took hold of it, and as he swam he noticed a green ooze trailing behind. When Vyor finally reached the shore, a piercing shriek rose from below the turbulent waters. Vyor turned quickly to see a massive serpentine shadow rising hundreds of feet above his head, roaring in pain, before crashing back below the waves.

### The Final Task

With bloody horn in tow, Vyor set off to complete the last of his three tasks. He searched far and wide, high in the cold mountains and deep in wooded valleys, but his search was in vain. Nowhere in Whirn, Faravay, or even lands unknown to us could Vyor find this “bark which comes not from a tree.” After months of searching with no sign of what he was looking for, Vyor began to lose hope of ever finding it. After years of hopeless wandering, Vyor returned home with but one hope left. He found his village much the same as he left it; sustained wonderfully by the land, yet desperate for something beyond their physical needs. They welcomed Vyor with great mirth, as many had given up hope of him ever returning. Before he could get too caught up in the revelry, the village elders sent him straight to the mountaintop to converse with the goddess of the beasts. The hike was long, and gave Vyor time to consider his options. If his plan didn’t work… but no, he couldn’t doubt himself now. He plastered on a strong-willed face and tried his hardest to prepare himself to confront the Lady Huntress. Finally reaching the top of the mountain, Vyor was so tired he fell asleep right away, even without the usual assistance of the Dream Root. Upon closing his eyes, Vyor heard the warm voice of Yídna surrounding him, saying, “Vyor Bréganok, son of Vagyor, son of Yazok, welcome back to the land of your people. You have traveled many miles, and many moons. Have you completed the three tasks which I set before you?”

Even as he slept, Vyor swallowed nervously and spoke aloud, “I think we shall see.” With his eyes closed, he rose and stood firmly before the presence of Yídna. “For the first task you requested ‘food which one cannot bite.’ Therefore, I bring you the milk of the great Kila, Goat of Etérya, which I won from your cousin Válni. One sip can fill a man more than any food from the earth.” And he placed the leather skin before him upon the mountaintop. “For the next task, you asked for ‘blood which flows not red.’ Thus I give to you a horn broken from the head of Ganyuž-Kar, great serpent of the depths, from which flows ichor as green as the sea floor.” And he set the horn gently next to the skin pouch. “Finally, you requested ‘bark which comes not from a tree,’” Saying this, Vyor fell to his knees and said, “though I have sought this final task for years, across all corners of Whirn and beyond, I come to you having only found humility. Therefore, all I can give to you is all I left home with: the coat on my back.”

So Vyor shrugged his coat off his back and held it up to the goddess. It was a finely crafted coat, woven of the hardy iron-grass that is native to the Davásh Mountains, yet it was hardly a fine gift for a goddess. Yídna smiled, and said, “Young Vyor, in your humility you have given me your last possession as concession for not completing the third trial, and so doing you have completed it. No gift of mine could in good conscience be given to anyone but the most humble of humans. To you and your people, I bestow the blessed Yak. Their milk shall sustain you, blood bind you, and hide protect you. Go and be received by your tribe.” And with this, Vyor woke violently from his trance. Looking around him, he saw no sign of the gift that Yídna promised. As he began to trudge his way back down the mountain pass, however, he saw walking towards his village a massive herd of hefty woolen friends known as yak. He ran down shouting for joy, and led the wondrous herd to the welcoming arms of his tribe. Thus, the people of Yidmark were completed, with the companionship and protection of the beautiful yak.