The Book of Six and Ten part I The Book of Six and Ten part II Book of Artifacts and Relics
The Legend of Procrustius and the Shimmering Mace The Legend of Firebrand Arrows The Legend of Frostbolt Arrows The Legend of Dragonskin Boots The Legend of the Woven Grass Jerkin The Legend of the Sapphire Talisman The Legend of the Ruby Amulet The Legend of Venom The Legend of Tempest and Lord Devlin The Legend of HellRazor The Legend of the Diamond Sword The Legend of Darksweeper The Legend of Frostbite the Axe Legend of the Emerald Crown History of Dimwit Flathead's Pendent of Snowdrift The one that sapped the beat of the Land came first The one that burrowed below the earth came next The one that sucked the people's marrow came last The Seven Evils The Seven Beasts The Three Keys Hope, Chaos, Victory Stone of Pentere And so the Three came onto Farr
Bucket Stories The cleric said to his disciple Legend of TamnathThe Book of Six and Ten
by the Bard Sylyryn of St. Monica
Book I of VI
A wizard is a strange beast, and I have been fascinated by them for most of my years.
Deft is he (or she!) who can summon fire without flint and tinder, wise is he who can fashion potions of agelessness, and insane is he who can summon creatures from the foulest parts of the Underworld.
I have met such a wizard named Motar the Miraculous.
Odd fellow, this one.
A circus man by the age of three, wise and knowing of all manner of circus feats: juggling, sword swallowing, dung scooping.
How he learned the Art I was not able to wrest from him, but when asked, he muttered something incomprehensible (though I swear his answer was "Roquefort Cheese." -- A dairy item? A Master Wizard? I do not know.)
Alas, he is so strange a man I expect nothing but the most odd things to spring from his mouth.
He told me of a tale. Once, many, many moons ago, he had turned a Dark Elf friend of his named F'ehren into a toad.
The spell was a mistake, of course.
He had actually wanted to cast a spell of teleportation upon the elf.
How the signals were crossed, only one more schooled in magic could answer.
F'ehren was a largish toad at that.
One that spoke with the same voice of the elf when he was a man.
Needless to say, the elf was upset and slung no small amount of wretched insults Motar's way.
And when the mage held the toad, F'ehren was sure to urinate on him to excess.
Motar wondered what to do.
Ears ringing with insults and hands wet with urine, he decided to take his friend-toad to the Temple of Justice in the nearby capital of the land.
Why Justice? Surely, his friend living a life as a toad was not just.
He was an elf, after all.
"Surely, my friend living a life as a toad is not just," Motar told the head cleric of the Temple of Justice. "He is an elf, after all."
F'ehren cursed under his breath. He then croaked deeply.
The cleric, an old and sad halfling named Astrid, looked at the toad lying in a yellow puddle of its own making.
"Are you an elf, after all, warted one?" she said, squinting through her spectacles.
"I am F'ehren Douren Noquar of House Noquar," said the toad with an angered elvish accent tinned by his smallish amphibian vocal cords.
"My family has ruled in the Realms of the Underworld for nearly one million moons.
I live and breathe under the seal of my house and clan.
Our blood is the most vital and the most important of any elf alive or dead.
Cross me, do my bidding not, and you shall pay with all that is dear to you."
Astrid took a step back and raised an eyebrow.
Motar smiled and laughed nervously.
"He's a little upset," he said, picking up the elf-toad (careful not to be within shot of the spray of his vindictive kidneys).
"Who wouldn't be?"
Astrid said nothing.
She slowly turned to her stately lectern (easily twice her halfling size) and opened the top drawer.
She produced a white cloth.
"I'm afraid the Gods of Justice can do nothing for him," she said.
"But I do know someone who may be able to help."
The elf-toad spewed! "Tell me before I slit your throat, you miserable hag--!"
Motar put his hand over F'erhen's mouth. He then shrugged to the cleric. "Who wouldn't be upset, huh?"
Astrid's expression was still blank.
She approached Motar, white cloth extended.
You must do two things. First: find the mighty Ranger Darda. He is knowledgeable in all manners of animals. Toads being one of them. He will help, or he will know someone who can."
"Yes!" Motar pumped his fist. He wasn't a man to hold things back. "And the second thing, ma'am?"
Astrid handed him the cloth.
"Clean up that puddle. It's disgusting."
The Book of Six and Ten
by the Bard Sylyryn of St. Monica
Book II of VI
"Yes. I am wise in the ways of toads and such," said the Great Ranger Darda Waylaid of Two Trees.
"And it seems you have some sort of toad problem."
The trip for Motar the Miraculous and the elf-toad F'erhren Douroren Noquar had not been an easy one.
Two Trees was over many rivers and through many woods, and the perils were many. The Giant Ticks of Harshplain were most troublesome. Why? Well, Motar hated ticks.
The urination, of course, was also a problem.
Motar was always changing. After two or three rage induced, curse-ridden sprayings, their journey would stop long enough for Motar to wash everything all over again at a riverbank.
A more viscous circle I can not think of.
To make matters even worse, their trek was burdened because F'ehren had insisted on taking every one of his belongings with him: every sword, every garrote, every drop of poison in his possession.
He swore the moment he was turned back into an elf, he was going to chop the mage into little pieces.
He vowed it on all that was unholy.
Motar knew this, of course.
F'ehren was not oft subtle in his contempt.
So there were many stops along the way that Motar made in order to dispose of these artifacts of murder.
A dagger or two was pitched into the gorge at Watchtower Cliff, vial after vial of poison was "accidentally" dropped into the Long Marsh, F'erhen's blade Malpheron's Bane was sold to a smithy in Rottingdale.
There, Motar used the monies to buy another traveling outfit, water and urine-proofed (at least that's what he was told), and a paperweight shaped like a toadstool for F'ehren.
F'ehren, perpetually blinded by rage, never noticed his items disappearing.
He just sat upon his toadstool, King Toad-like, ranting bizarre, toady curses.
Sitting there, he at least thought he was getting the respect he deserved...
...until the Great Ranger Darda Waylaid of Two Trees began poking at his stomach with a small oaken stick.
Darda gurbled. "So, your friend is now a toad," he said. He scratched an unusual growth of hair on his chin. "Hmmm," he gurbled.
He turned to Motar. "May I ask the amphibian some questions?"
"I can talk, you moppish, foul-breathed scalawag!"
Darda continued to look at Motar. Motar shrugged. Darda took it as a silent "yes." He spun to face the F'ehren-Toad, his unusual growth of hair spinning, too.
Darda started his interrogative assult. "How long can you hold your breath?"
F'ehren screamed an angry toad's scream. "By all that is unholy in this world and the many million layers of the Underworld, I will dine upon your beating heart while you watch, worm!"
A silence. Darda was unfazed. Motar was fazed. "He's...a little upset, you know?" the mage added. "Who wouldn't be, huh?"
Darda blinked both eyes deliberately and looked at the dark elf/toad.
"Are your warts contagious?" Darda asked, one eye unusually larger than the other.
F'ehren readied his kidneys for the most spirited discharge yet.
Darda's interrogative assault continued. "Do you prefer flies to moths or moths to flies?"
F'ehren squinted at him, imaginging him as wet as he could. Oh yes, his toad-brain thought, he will be wet. He has no idea...
Darda's one unusual eye beat down upon the F'ehren-toad. "Is it easy being green?"
F'ehren took aim. He estimated five seconds before the Great Ranger was drenched.
Darda laid an unusually shaped finger beside his lip. He gurbled quickly. Then he said... "He is no toad."
F'ehren held his breath and his bladder. He had to speak his mind. "You prattle-brained cod piece, we know that! I'm a dark elf!"
Darda turned to the magic user. He paused for emphasis. He may have gurbled.
"He, good mage, is no toad. He is a frog."
Book of Artifacts and Relics
Fact or Fiction - You Decide:
Cauldera: The Flaming Sword of Might
One of the greatest magic weapons ever sought was Cauldera.
Forged in the fires of Hell on the 666th layer of the abyss by the wizard Bhimrao (Kram the Mad's Arch Enemy).
This flaming terror will inflict extreme damage on whoever or whatever it bites into.
The great wizard Kram was not always mad. It was his jealous obsession with seeking out Bhimrao and Cauldera.
Kram had finally tracked the hell-spawned weapon and it's owner in the ruins of Jovanc.
After a heated battle, Bhimrao's warriors lay dead, with him not far behind. Kram thought he finally had won.
So he thought. With his dying breath, Bhimrao uttered a spell which scrambled Kram's mind into that of a befuddled old man.
At that point, Bhimrao fell dead, and Kram just wandered off toward the West Hills in Padavis. Never to be seen again
The Legend of Procrustius and the Shimmering Mace
Oh just another giant that loves to invite travelers in for the night, then rip their arms and legs off for dinner
Supposedly, he guards a great weapon.
The Legend of Firebrand Arrows
Lucky is the traveler who finds these magical arrows.
Fire when fired, ignite and burn all enemies within range of the impact point!
The Legend of Frostbolt Arrows
When fired, these arrows turn into frosty razors and slice into enemies with chilly terror.
The Legend of Dragonskin Boots
Nobody knows where these magical boots came from, but the Aroblin mines are suspect.
When worn, they will protect the wearer from fire and intense heat.
There are rumored only a few of these boots lying around this world of Farr.
The Legend of the Woven Grass Jerkin
These rare pieces of clothing will protect thyself from the effects of poison and will resist the fires of lightning when worn.
The Grass Jerkins were made years ago by the Elder forest Elves of Hethrallin and have been scattered about the land.
The Legend of the Sapphire Talisman
This Talisman has great and powerful magick cast upon it, for its wearer will become immune to the effects of cold.
Good for traveling to Mons without snow parkas.
The Legend of the Ruby Amulet
There are rumored to be only three of these powerful items scattered about the Overworld and Underworld of Farr.
When worn, they protect the owner from intense heat.
Very powerful magick indeed.
The Legend of Venom
Deep within the ruins of Hatak is rumored to be old Shaman Frollo - (The Reptiles Leader).
Frollo was known to be mad and loved to dabble in Black Magick.
His greatest achievement was a sword he affectionately nicknamed, 'Venom'.
This sword, when biting into its victims will infect them with a deadly poison.
The Legend of Tempest and Lord Devlin
Rumor has it that the Devil himself has invaded Farr.
Insane cutthroats and brigands fleeing from Maldavith claim to have seen a pirate boss named Devlin acting as the kingpin under Gretmar Island.
He is said to wield the magic sword Tempest (a powerful weapon that casts lightning bolts at it's foes!)
May the Gods be with you in your quest for him.
The Legend of HellRazor
Somewhere deep in the hidden Dark Elf caves resides Mordekai Master of the Snakes.
Mordekai was once a high-priest in the Dark-Elf community, who ruled all of reptiles in in the Forests of Hethrallin.
During his reign, he forged a terrible weapon, known as HellRazor.
A wicked sword which spits out deadly blasts of fire at its victims, causing them great pain.
After years of tyranny, Mordekai grew old and feeble.
The Dark Elves showed their sympathy for their once-great leader by locking him and Venom up somewhere deep below Hethrallin in the Dark-Elf Underworld.
Mordekai keeps busy and happy by slaying and sacrificing fresh adventurers to Venom.
*Script Mistake: Venom Means HellRazor*
The Legend of the Diamond Sword
Little is known of a magical sword carved completely out of a huge hunk of diamond.
No one knows who made it or what it does.
Rumors surround the Ice Caves in Mons, for several parties of would-be heroes have traveled there and frozen in the tundras without preparation or snow parkas.
Who will be brave (and lucky) enough to find this exotic weapon and discover its powers!?
The Legend of Darksweeper
Of all of the artifacts and relics in Farr, one of the most favorite folklore tales was that of a sword named Darksweeper.
Forged more than 100 years ago by a young Cleric named Theodar.
Theodar was one of the Adepts in the Abbey of Falken - (which now would be somewhere in Aroblin).
The Abbey Clerics led a peaceful life, for many years, and took care of their land and people.
Until one fateful day when another promising young Adept named Pheobus started to become disenchanted with the Light, and secretly started to worship the Dark, practicing summoning undead and demons.
Phoebus started to turn evil, right under the eyes of his fellow Adepts who did not even notice.
All but one, that is, young Theodar.
Theodar began to speak of his concerns about Brother Phoebus, but none would listen, calling Theodar jealous of Phoebus in God's eyes.
Theodar, fearing for his own life now, took his trusty longsword to the Elders at the edge of Aroblin, and had it blessed by the high-priest with magick that would protect him from evil.
When he returned to his Abbey, he found it in ruins, burning with with the fires of Hell, and dozens of skeletons and undead dancing around.
Running around like a madman, was Phoebus laughing like the Devil himself and slaying his fellow Adepts.
Bravely, Theodar charged in wielding his magic sword, slashing down all of the Undead creatures.
At the end, it was Phoebus and Theodar, facing each other down.
Theodar with his Darksweeper, and Phoebus with his bloody shortsword.
The two struck each other with fatal blows, and the powerful force of the magick of Light and Dark collided, totally annihilating the area for miles around, volcanos sprung up, and the land started to become the wasteland of Aroblin as it is known now.
As for Theodar, Phoebus and Darksweeper? Swallowed up under Aroblin... To be found deep in the dungeon mines...? Who knows!
The Legend of Frostbite the Axe
Somewhere deep in the icy caves in Mons, is rumored the resting place of the mighty magical axe, Frostbite.
This weapon was created by the ancient frost giant king, Jarl Hammerbone, who enchanted it with his frosty breath.
Therefore with each blow, the victim gets blasted with a freezing cloud of ice mist.
Truly a valuable artifact to find!
Legend of the Emerald Crown
Many moons ago, the stalwart palace of Darnok was attacked by two viscious bands of pirates from Maldavith.
The surprise attacks led by Captian Jolly Roger, (a towering giant brigand), and Captain Hans Gelbard (a swashbucking ladies man).
The goal of the attack was to steal the magical Emerald Crown - (A device said to give it's wearer immunity to mental attacks).
After a massive battle which left a hundred or so guards and pirates dead, Captain Roger and Captain Gelbard were victorious.
The two boarded their ships and started to set sail, when Captain Roger suddenly opened fire on Gelbard's ship and crew, blowing them to bits and pieces.
Naturally, Captain Roger could not share his new found toy with anyone else, and gleefully slew his own crew, and sailed off towards Maldavith.
Rumor has it he is hidden somewhere in the Lost Caves in Maldavith.
Rumor also has it, that Captain Gelbard can still be seen on his ruined ship, anchored off the coast of Darnok.
History of Dimwit Flathead's Pendent of Snowdrift
This magical item is said to give its wearer protection from cold.
Legend says that it is lost somewhere in one of the Karminac Dungeons.
The one that sapped the beat of the Land came first.
He built a tower of malice in the West, watching from high the People as they slept.
He stole their golden dreams and turned them black.
He took their souls without their notice during those nights.
And now, in the day, he bathes in their fears.
It was he who stole the heart of the land.
All for the awe of his rigid Master.
The one that burrowed below the earth came next.
From the blackest of shadows he came, and to Farr's darkest realm he went to carve his evil warren.
The land withered at every swing of his minions' axe.
Farr was fatally stung by this poison: The richness of its soil, the purity of its air, the sweep of its horizon curdled and spoiled.
It was he who stole the blood of the land.
All for the awe of his rigid Master.
The one that sucked the people's marrow came last.
She spread her shadow wings over the East, and the sun was silent for months.
Men's backs went weak, women could not bear seed, and children cried in terror at the sound of her awful shrieks.
Struck dumb, they marched to her Red Castle of Teeth and gave themselves willingly to her, stunned by the black beauty of her eyes.
They fill her scaled belly with their bones, and it was she who broke the people of the land.
All for the awe of her rigid Master.
The Seven Evils
One sits trapped in snowy strife, locking away the land's sweet life.
Two, in fortress high, sucks the western Coast, by and by.
Three, below unseen, takes and fouls all verdant green.
Four has slain a king and killed goodwill, while
Five mines gold eons old, and steals it still.
Six sits inside steps ascending up to heaven,
And the final bathes in legend, and is simply called Seven.
The Seven Beasts
In the days before, the Land was dying. Seas boiled, the Land shook, and plague swept over men.
The great hero Attentroch journeyed to Farr with hopes of ending the scourge.
He was pious and virtuous, clever and strong.
It was said that his heart was the most pure mortal heart in all the Universe.
If anyone could stop the plague's spread, it would be he.
He searched the Land, braving bandits and sickness and fell creatures at every turn.
Only after walking one thousand miles did he learn of the Seven Beasts that sat in each corner of the Land.
These beasts were horrible creatures: no weapon could crack their hides, no man could outrun them, and no amount of food could sate their ravenous appetite.
They sat in their awful caves and drank the life-blood of the Land.
As the Land died, they grew stronger.
Attentroch had his Golden Rope, and could no doubt use it to wrap a beast up and cast it into the heavens, but of the others? Six more would still sap the land.
So he went to the seven corners of Farr, and to each beast he promised his heart, so long as they would stop draining the Land - such a prize would feed them for centuries.
One by one, he offered this prize, and one by one they agreed to meet him in the center of Farr.
So from each corner they came: from the frozen wastes to the hazy jungles to the rolling plains.
They came to the center of Farr to devour the heart of Attentroch.
And as they arrived, they saw the other beasts arriving.
Their small hearts pulsed with greed, for they each feared the other would steal the heart.
They launched themselves at each other with greedy teeth and claws.
No matter how strong each blow was, it was not a killing strike - it only made them more spiteful and more incensed to continue fighting.
With rage and hatred blinding them, Attentroch quickly wrapped them in his Golden Rope and threw them into the sky.
They cursed him and swore vengeance, but soon forgot, wanting more to fight than do anything else.
With the seven beasts gone, brought together by Attentroch's wit, the Land awoke.
Spring bloomed, winter died, and men fought off their sickness.
And so it is said, reader, that when the Land is in jeopardy, go to the seven corners of the Land and look for the beasts or their tokens as Attentroch did.
Join them and cast them from the Land, and it shall awaken again.
The Three Keys
There are several 'keys' in this land that some say are shards from the first battles of the Eternals: bloody pieces of Chaos and Order that have morphed into artifacts of great power.
Others say that these keys are the work of yet a higher Power sent to challenge the virtues of mortals. Since no Eternals answer to such questions, the sides will no doubt remain divided.
Of the keys, there are three that are of import to Farr on a historical level: the Raikain, the Tesseract, and the Un-named.
The Raikain was first discovered by the Dark Elf prince of the same name in Hethrallin's Darkunder late towards the close of the First Age.
The Raikain could command any mortal to do the owner's bidding.
Rich men, poor men, princes and paupers all were helpless under the Raikain's sway.
The elf prince quickly built himself a limitless army of followers and threatened to march on the Kingdom of the Gods and the planes of the Eternals.
Were it not for the great dark elf thief F'ehren (with traveling companions Astrid Kersana and Darda Waylaid) journeying to the Plane of Force to tell the Force Eternal of Raikain's plans, the realm may still fly under Raikain's purple banner.
Force lanced Raikain for his presumption, granted him eternal life, and banished to suffer within the Void for all Eternity.
F'ehren, well known for his honor as a thief, was presented the Raikain (in a lesser form that allows minor extra-sensory perception) as a gift by the Force Eternal.
F'ehren still carries the Raikain and is known to use it to win at gambling and bones.
The Tesseract had still more practical purpose.
Discovered quite accidentally by the first Lord High Mage of Pentere when tending to a sick branch on the Tree of Life, the Tesseract key opened a doorway to the Plane Above, where travel was shortened.
Used primarily by the Pentere Mages, their council, and the blue blood of Kiger's line to speed to any point in Farr quickly.
The Tesseract Key was lost during the seige of Bilton by the Army of Jainil'li and the Wyrm, Black Mire, when Bilton's enormous Watchrider army attempted to be brought back home through it.
Jainil'li could not control Bilton, but no one is certain what became of the Tesseract.
Bard songs speak of it hiding in the Underworld, drifting frozen in glaciers floating in the Mons Sea or, worse yet, trapped in the Plane Above, never to be found in mortal lands again.
The Un-named key, sometimes called Ratom's Horrible Bag, was used only once.
Found by the Mage Ratom in the land Ione that once sat in Farr's northeast corner, the key first manifested itself as a bag capable of holding its own weight one million times over.
Ratom, ever foolish and arrogant, turned the bag inside-out to study how it worked.
It slowly enveloped the entire land, threatening to ingest all of Farr and the known universe.
Was it not for the Party of the Amorphous Blob halting its expansion by sewing the bag up with the Platinum String from the belly of the Witch King, the Un-named's ravenous appetite may have destroyed even the Eternals.
The bag is thought to be destroyed, tossed into the Acid Eddies of the Astral Plane by the great warrior Pylanthius.
Hope, Chaos, Victory
For such a muckity-muck, Chaos is rather forgetful.
In the days when he walked (sometimes ran, sometimes crawled) the land, he'd often misplace (or drop, or lose) himself (or at least pieces of himself) in the strangest of places.
He'd drop a hand by accident, or leave his head beside a road.
Once he left his spectacles with a serf, who later became Lord High Wizard, and once he dropped his bag of gold behind an inn, only to have it be found by a great hero, who stumbled upon poor luck (and a bloodthirsty army of bandits!) once he left town.
Blessed (or woe) is he (or she) who finds or is given an object of Chaos.
Is there rhyme (or cacophony) or reason (or fallacy) to his slight (or purposed) memory?
When the steps taken are many and tiresome
When the foes slain redouble themselves anew
When the Despair stands solid before you.
Turn Hope upon it.
It will lead you to Chaos...and to victory.
Stone of Pentere
The great god Ul came to the unclaimed land of Hatak and laid down a great box of stone, pinning the ground down from the heavens.
'This is my land,' he said, his chest thrown out with arrogance.
'Let this box of stone, this land's highest point, show my glory forevermore.'
The great trickster Sed heard this. He was both Ul's younger brother and a lesser god, so a victory over Ul would be sweet.
He flew to the stone when Ul looked elsewhere and placed a slightly smaller box of stone atop Ul's. His was now the highest point in the land.
He fled to the heavens, cackling scornfully at his thievery.
But first Tribeking of Hatak, Gher'rud Luun, watched Sed closely.
The rainy season before, Sed had stolen and broken his daughter's heart, and Gher'rud Luun knew that no time was better to exact revenge.
His armies plundered the mountains of Tantia, and took from it rocks as great as any used by the gods and Eternals.
His engineers planned a square of rocks to sit atop Sed's.
Each person in his tribe then placed a single rock to form yet a smaller, higher, box.
As Gher'rud Luun placed the final stone down, he called to the heavens: 'We are higher than any god now! Hatak is ours! It celebrates the glory of men!'
His words echoed across Farr and over the heavens, and bounced until it caught the ear of the Lord of Order.
Sariloth then placed his own stone atop all of the others.
Its evil power sucked each one dry
How the stone of Pentere was placed, no one knows...
Some say Sariloth was invited to Bilton by King Karassmus, who was eager to ease the loss of his queen and babe and willing to offer anything to ease that pain.
Some say the Sucking Stone was once a fruit from the Tree of Life, turned black and foul because Greed had grown in so many heart down the Trade Way.
Some say that Sariloth tried to trick the North Wind into pushing the stone inside Wildevarr, but the Wind, ever- changing and easily distracted, quickly lost interest and left the stone in Pentere.
How it was placed, no one knows...but there it will remain until one with strong hand and pure heart can take it away.
And so the Three came onto Farr.
One sapped the beat of the Land, one burrowed below it, one fed off of its people's bones.
But they were nothing without their Master.
And to speak with Him, the Lord of the Halls of the Dead, They each stole a Piece of Fruit from the Golden Tree of Life.
Legend says:
That when each Piece would be placed upon its doorstep, the Halls of the Dead will swing open.
Then the lifelessness of Order will sweep from its gloomy subterranean depths, and All will be forever encased in ice.
Bucket Stories
When a bucket is pierced, it loses water.
When a bucket is pierced twice, it loses more.
When pierced a third time, it loses still more.
Every time thereafter, when it is pierced, it loses more until all the water that it held is gone.
Buckets and lands are therefore the same.
So like Farr, if a bucket has been pierced seven times,
care must be taken to fix such a bucket.
Fixing one hole is not enough, for water will leak from the others.
Only when the bucket is empty, as Farr is now blighted, can the bucket be fixed.
And then, each hole must be dealt with separately, but ultimately together,
For if one hole is sealed with wax and a another with metal, near a fire, one will hold and one will melt - leaving the bucket empty again.
A good carpenter will:
fix a bucket when it is empty,
fill its holes one by one,
seal those holes in the same way -- together.
And then, with a little Luck, will the bucket carry water again.
A good bucket does not go without carrying water for long,
and a blightless land will take flower when its season of bloom arrives.
The Cleric and the Diciple
The cleric said to his disciple: "It is easier to walk on golden clouds than solid land."
"But how, Master?"
The master laughed: "One must have the Key to do it. Then it is easier."
Said the student: "Why is it easier, master?"
And the master answered: "Space stretches differently Above -- one step walked there means fifty walked Below."
The acolyte cocked his head: "But what is this Key? I have walked all Farr, and I have seen no Door that takes you to the clouds."
The aged priest nodded: "Must a Door always look like a Door?"
The young man paused: "It often does."
The holy man sighed: "But it need not be. It might be broken and old, but it shall work..."
The boy interrupted: "...if one has the Key?"
The cleric nodded...
...and the disciple smiled wide.
He then heard: "It is most unwise to interrupt your master."
His smile faded.
Legend of Tamnath
by
Zaandra the Learned
One of the most popular and fanciful legends of our fair land is that of island of Tamnath. Formed shortly after the beginning of the New Age, it was said to lie just off of the coast of Farr. Although a sizable island, it was never colonized because it was an extremely inhospitable spot of land, teeming with swamps, volcanoes, and some of the most hostile and venomous beasts imaginable. Those few brave souls who did attempt to explore this island rarely returned whole. However, legend has it that some students of Sentiffin, the Father of Magic, decided to go to the island and make it into a paradise, there to live and conduct their occult experiments. These wizards combined their knowledge and power and created a mysterious Bubble of Protection, through which none but the wizards could pass. At the end of ten years, the Bubble dissipated and, lo, a warm golden glow emanated from the transformed island.
Wondrous stories soon reached Farr. It is said that the wizards had combined the power of crystals into a new energy source that did everything for them. It ran the looms and tilled the soil. It brought heat in the winter and cooled them in summer. This new energy gave the wizards everything they could wish for. The wizards soon grew fat and lazy, and were quite content to let their magic do their work for them.
However, the wizards soon began to use up the magical crystals, until all that was left were small shards of the wondrous stones. One night, one of the wizards, a particularly thick character, decided to fuse a great many of the shards together in an attempt to make one huge stone, and thus extend their life of leisure. Cruel folly, for his attempt caused the crystal shards to explode with a force that ripped a hole through the middle of the island. Horror grasped the wizards as they realized that their beloved island was sinking into the sea. Vainly, they climbed to the highest peaks of the island and shouted their incantations and spells to the sky, using all of the magic skill at their disposal to reverse the inevitable. Alas, the island sank, awash in a cleansing white foam that lapped at the land until it disappeared beneath the briny blue.
While there is no proof that these events actually took place, the legend of Tamnath remains one of the most popular among the people of Farr, and to this day, whenever a mysterious or unusual object washes ashore, there is always speculation that it may have had its origin in that long-lost land of wonder.
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