Irraluk - The Abominable Yeti

Irraluk - The Abominable Yeti

We followed the screaming wind for hours, and when it stopped… that’s when we heard the other thing. Not a roar. Not a beast. A voice. Hollow, wet, and cold like bone marrow.

Rich

Role in Its Society:

While abominable yetis are feared as solitary alpine predators, Irraluk is something much worse — a carrier of glacial madness, an avatar of winter infected with alien hunger.

In the Whispering Tundra of Eldervast, where the wind sings dead names and storms twist memory, Irraluk roams with purpose: not to feed, but to spread the silence. Those who encounter him risk more than death — they risk becoming part of the mute winter, consumed by his howl and reborn as icebound husks who scream only when they break.

To the tundra tribes, Irraluk is known as “The White Maw,” a spirit of retribution unleashed by the land itself in response to defilement. But hidden runes left behind by mad arcanists suggest he may be something summoned, a beast not native to the Material Plane — but seeded here, to infect the season.

Appearance Description:

Towering nearly 15 feet, Irraluk's shaggy white fur is broken by patches of blackened frost rot, from which extend bony growths like jagged, curling antlers. His face is elongated into a skull-like maw, with rows of needle-sharp teeth set in a permanent scream. A cold mist pours from his mouth constantly, and frozen blood is matted in streaks down his forearms.

His eyes are gone — replaced with void-pits, within which dim echoes of starlight flicker.

Backstory:

Irraluk was once a guardian beast of the tundra — a primeval yeti who hunted to keep balance. But in the aftermath of an arcane war fought across the Tempest Peaks, eldritch remnants drifted eastward on the wind and poisoned the snows.

He found something in the blizzards — a voice not of nature, but of elsewhere. Since then, his form has twisted, his mind fractured, and his hunger transformed from need into purpose: to hollow the world into a soundless white grave.

Where he walks, the cold doesn’t just kill — it lingers, warps, and remembers.

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