Story: A Tale Told In Tarlas

A legend is whispered in the taverns and streets of Tarlas, sung in song, and passed down as revered folklore to children around warm winter hearths. It is a tale of the early days of Su, when the gods still walked the world, having not yet fled into seclusion or torpor.

It is said that many years ago, long before the Spire of Ashen fell, when the world was young, and even the creatures of the great Dream walked the world, the goddess Croene, the moon-spider, weaver of fates, fought Apoctli, the golden dragon of fire, in a duel for possession of the Sunsword. It was a battle so tremendous that their fighting made the land dark with eclipse for half an age. The sky howled as if being torn asunder, and the mortals wept in fear, for it seemed the End Of All Things had come. They battled furiously, Croene never tiring with her eight poisoned blades, and Apoctli never faltering in defence with his great rending claws, and sweeping golden coils.

In the great battle, Apoctli's claws rended a gash in the flesh of Croene, and three drops of silver blood fell from the wound, falling to the world below. One drop fell into the forest, and made the trees grow lush and feral, and the beasts savage and strange, creating what is now known as the Moonwood. One drop fell into the burning maw of the volcano Angkarrak, freezing its magma temper and solidifying into the Bright Pillar, the eventual glowing center of the Stone People's city of Sharrid-Khar.  The third drop fell so far away from the world that it fell into the Dream, and became the seed of the great pale tree of Ansmassar, whose roots and boughs are so great that some of Ansmassar can be found in Su and the Nightmare, as well as the world of Twie.

It was Apoctli that won the duel, sacrificing his left horn, shorn from his head by Croene's terrible blades, and fell to the land of Su, the world of mortals. Winning the Sunsword, and dominion in day over all the land of Su, he became the Lord of Day, and Croene the moon-spider, spinner of fates and keeper of the elder secrets was dethroned. In his mercy he granted her the Crown of Stars, giving her dominion over the night sky, and all the lands lit by the silver moon.

In sorrow, and humbled by the dragon's mercy, she retired to her silver temple to sleep, and so she rules from the great Dream the nighted lands. However, ass the Crown of Stars is a lesser artefact, her power is weak during the shrouded moon for her channel to the Dream is weak and twisted, and the Nightmare draws close to Su in its shadowy cycle.

So great, so terrible, and so long was the battle between the silver spider and the golden dragon that even the people of the world were divided. The tall and noble Khirre abandoned the darkened world and fled back to their ancestral home of the Dream, leaving only their lesser kin, the pale Estarra who sided with the silver fate-spider, Croene, and the Kumorrah, who sided with the golden sun-lord Apoctli. 

Of Apoctli's horn, the tale goes, it fell into a deep wooded glade in remote wilderness, far from all the elder peoples of the world, out of the reach of the Estarra, the Kumorrah, the Feng-Aessa, and the Guldorrach who would become the Stone People. There, the horn took root into the great tree Maydassen, that had leaves of golden yellow tinged with bloody red, and bore burning red fruit more of fire and sky than earth and water, which would grant great powers upon those that ate it. Its bark was gold and brown, and the tree was gnarled and twisted as the horn of the great dragon Apoctli was.

Legend tells that the Star-stag, Thanenir wandered beneath the boughs of the tree and ate of the burning fruit by the light of the empty and shrouded moon, and witnessed only by the glowing ember-bugs and the night creatures was transformed into a new creature, the first Human. Like his former form, the first man was strong and noble, with a wise bearded face and long golden brown hair, and a body strong and athletic. Thinking to grow another such tree as Maydassen, he took three more fruit from the tree, and went into the wide world to plant them.

In the north he planted one fruit, and the tree that grew was as pale as snow, but had leaves that shined as gold, and sap that ran red like blood. It was named Dammadar, and its first fruit bore for Thanenir the second Human, the first woman, and her name was Elsanna, wife of Thanenir, the Lady of Winter, and both became the creators of the races of men.

The second fruit planted was in the burning desert of Kelgorass, and grew into the great tree of Gassu-Tokka, a thorny creation of gnarled boughs and roots, and the center of the lost garden of Ai, and whose viny boughs wrapped around the ancient Spire of Ashen, now fallen, and whose merest remnant and cousin still dwells, black and gnarled in that damned place.

The last fruit was planted on the shores of the deep mountain lake of Creiss, which is said to be from the massive footprint of the giant Tanor, who strode across all the worlds above and below in the first of all ages. The tree was called Teneiss, and was as a great weeping willow, with long draping twigs, and leaves that glowed as golden fire in the dawn and dusk. Its roots ran deep, and drank well of the pure waters of the cold mountain lake, and bore a single glowing fruit after many years.

The story then tells that the fruit was plucked from the tree by Sotros, a wild and feral creature of the Dream, known for running and fighting in the lonely places. So enamoured by the magical glow of the fruit that he tied it as a talisman around his neck, and took it with him on its great travels, to eventually become lost to him after a battle on the bank of the river with the great morning bear Koumourou, to drift downstream and come to rest in a small pond deep in the Elder Mistwood, the deepest part of that dark and thick wood. The fruit then grew into a red-barked tree, and from its trunk after many years, was borne Zoel, the noble, cousin of Thanenir.

Zoel travelled the world, and eventually founded the bright city of Anzebesharran, uniting the tribes of men, those first and many offspring of Thanenir and Elsanna. It was a great and glorious city of men, and as Zoel was not of man himself, and was something somehow different, he ruled for many years. Eventually the trials of rulership took their toll on him, and he left the city of Anzebesharran to travel the worlds once more, eventually dwelling in Dream as the Shining Lord, ruler of the Great Halls, where the race of men dwells after death.

It is said that Zoel in his travels once slept with an Estarran queen, whose name is lost to time, and she bore in his absence a son. Her enraged husband, the Estarran King Saiell was shocked at the strange and unaccountable appearance of the babe, and slew his queen for her adultery by making her drink the nectar of the deathly poisonous Flower of Sorrows, which grew in the hanging gardens of the palace. He then ordered the illegitimate son cast out into the wilds by his highest captain, Kolras. Kolras was a kind and honest Estarran, and was merciful on the child, and instead sending it through magic to another time and place to be cared for there. King Saiell soon found out about the treachery of his highest captain, and banished Kolras, cursing him to damnation and anguish, transforming him into a hideous monster to dwell far beneath the soil of Su in darkness.

In time, the city of Anzebesharran lost its lustre, and its new rulers fell into chaos and revolution. The great kingdom of men was shattered, and the tribes of Humans scattered across the world of Su, forgetting the location of their shining ancestral city, now left in ruins and decay. The races of men fought and struggled, building kingdoms and fighting wars that destroyed them. Eventually, the races of men dwindled. For survival they came together in an uneasy peace with each other and the peoples about them, dwelling still in their old cities, and losing touch with their roots as the sun-touched grandchildren of the Great Stag and the Lady of Winter.

And so is the world today, as they say in Tarlas. The race of men lies in ruins and eventual damnation, eroded by the endless Nightmare War. Those whispered folklore tales of the noble half-Estarra son of Zoel sent across time and space gives the people of the old city hope for a new and proper king, and the return of the glory of Humankind, united against the Nightmares.