dannydmc

All right; here's the second part of the prose rendition of my epic. It amazes me how developed the story has gotten; when I first outlined it a few years back, it was maybe a page long, hand written. In that time, things have gotten much deeper and more elaborate. Hell, to be honest, Sigismund was originally envisioned as a rather one-dimensional character; He was a guy who loved to drink, fight and live in the woods aka the perfect Lumberjack. Since that time he's managed to develope to a point of having some real depth and character; the angst he feels over the death of his Father and the quest which lays before him was actually pretty unexpected. This part shows him as he began; which is all well and good, for a character to grow he has to have a base to start from.
Anyway, enjoy Part 2 of the Treesplitters: The Prose Rendition. So begins the part of the tale I like to call "Der Sigismundleid"

Another small note: P.K. Small was a real man, and the curses with Sigismund throws at him are based off of stories really told of him. Apparently Small was a reeking disaster of a 'jack and loathed by all who ever knew him. Still, he found a place for himself in a folklore of the region as a result (if anyone ever wants a good book of the folklore of the North Woods, check out "Bloodstoppers and Bearwalks", a great bok written in the 50's)

Part 2

Sigismund the Bold grew to maturity in the vast endless wood inwhich his Father reigned. A strapping young man, he was fully in love with that green world; as a child he would often spend much of his time treking through the pathless forests, singing the songs which he had learned from the birds and beats who also called that land their home.
By the age of 16 he had already earned his axe and the right to join the lumberjacks in their daily toil; no other young land had ever won them so early. Big and strong, he towered over those who were twice his age, and was already reknown for having never lost a battle; a feat which won him great respect in all of Wisconsin. Despite his great strength and build, the thing which others remembered most about him was his hair. He possessed a thick mane of blond hair which fell losely to his shoulders, and a thick blond beard which seemed radiant indeed!
Sigismund soon became his father's closest council, and there was little doubt amongst the men that someday he would seceede his Father as foreman when the elderman decided to retire. It was this closeness which, in fact, brought the youth his first great adventure.
It seems that one winter a rival lumber company had been sent out to cross the line and cut trees from land which rightfully belonged to Deitrich's crew. The great Foreman called Sigismund close and asked him to take a group and men and to scout the forest, find the theives, and drive them off. He knew tht Sigismund was furocious and would not rest until the villians had been defeated.
The next day Sigismund set forth with a group of his closest friends. For several days they trekked through the woods until they came upon signs of the rival lumberjacks; following these signed they tracked them for two days before finally finding the interlopers. Immediately, Sigismund charged forth, with fists flying; they set upon the thieves and were determined to drive them out of the woods once and for all. But weird was not with Sigismund that day; for as the fight dragged on the weather began to turn and a sudden blizzard blew in from the North. In the howling winds and the beating snow, the rival Jacks were able to withdraw with their lived intact, although it was obvious to all that they had lost the fight. Nothing more was heard of that other band for many months.
Now, it was customary in March for the merry Lumberjacks to head from town with their salery intow. There they went to the nearest taverns and lavishly spent their money, buying drinks for all present in an effort to show how grand they were to friends. Sigismund was no different; in fact, because of his youth, he spent even more freely than most others, and was known throughout the land as one of the greatest barfriends a man could ever have.
And so it was the next March that Sigismund came to Chippewa Falls with his crew and proceeded to buy out all of the bars in that town. There was much merry making and joy as he proceeded with the nights activites. But, there was one man in the crowd who refused to cheer the Pine Prince, and scoffed. Towards the end of the night he finally came to Sigismund and introduced himself.
"My name is P.K. Small", he said, "and I'm the man who beat you, and caused you all to turn and run away!"
Sigismund reacted with anger, because he had never lost a fight before and had certainly never run from one; to do so ran against the grain of Lumberjack honor. He demanded to know why this man spoke falsly about him.
"I'm one of the lumberjacks that you tried to drive from the forest", Small replied, "and we sent you packing!"
By now Sigismund had had enough; "Ah, Small", he said, "I seem to remember it was you who ran away from us. And I also seem to remember hearing many tales of you over the years. Is it true that you once bit the head off of a boy's pet bird just to get a free drink? Or that you used to take up horse manure in your mouth to entertain crowds?" All of which was true.
Small screamed in rage at these charges and grabbed a knife, slicing Sigismund across the chest and drawing first blood. Blonde Beard felt the battle rage come upon him, and lept into the fray; all of the men in the tavern made way to let the two battle it out. And what a battle it was! Two fighters, spilling blood upon the sawdust floor; soon Small had lost his knife and began to attack Sigismund like an animal, with tooth and nail. In the end, however, it was no real contest; Small lay broken and bleeding upon the floor and Sigismund stood above the lesser man, brinding his boots down upon Small's face to scar him and mark him as a loser in battle.
Sigismund returned to the camp to the hoopla and screams of his fellow Lumberjacks who declared him a great hero and fighter. Even Deitrich was impressed and lauded his son for his prowress, wishing only that he had been there and young enough to enter the fray himself.
So Sigismund lived; the champion of his crew, loved and respected by all. But soon sorrow would fall upon the camp, and the brave hero would be faced to fight his greatest nemesis yet; one, that it was said, he could never destroy but with his own life. The winds of ill-fate were coming; and those winds cried with the unholy shreiking word; "Wendigo"