AJ Martin, Author at Gooey Shop

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Cheers and greetings, my friends!

I am gladdened to see you again as we wander this Wy’rded World together. We’ll soon disembark onto the great bazaar of Serpent Cove, one of my favorite cities amidst the beautiful Blueshine Archipelago. If you can’t find what you’re looking for here, I doubt it can be found anywhere! There’s no black market in these isles; you can buy and sell anything you like, so long as you pay the tax levied by the Merchant Lords. I’ve got a few contacts amongst the Myruunese vendors that can procure even the most obscure items. For example, I am in need of a pre-Ethernic artifact from the lands now covered by the Shrouded Sea, which will require a reliable ship and some well-armed deep-sea divers...but I digress.

Stay close if you don’t want to get lost amongst the crowd, though sometimes that’s precisely what you want to do! YES!! As getting lost, and subsequently found, can be much fun!! In any case, you never know what sorts of fantastical things you will overhear wending through the stalls and booths of the bazaar. No doubt there will be many a tall tale of piratical misadventures and nautical mayhem. Not everyone around the Blueshine are lawless buccaneers, but those that aren’t all know several that are. Of course, even the most dastardly of ocean-goers must rely upon the graces of Aquera; you wouldn’t think it at first glance, but the misfits and ne’er-do-wells of the Blueshine are quite devout followers of the goddess – so like as not you’ll hear many devotions to the lady of the waves. Beyond that, who knows what you might learn if you keep an ear open to the symphony of voices babbling in a hundred tongues. Just be sure that you never become so engrossed in a tale that you don’t also mind your belt: there are many deft hands looking to misplace your coins on these streets.

And here we are! Let’s see what strange wares and tales await us!

- Alphinius Goo

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[et_pb_section fb_built="1" fullwidth="on" _builder_version="3.29.3" z_index_tablet="500" hover_enabled="0" box_shadow_horizontal_tablet="0px" box_shadow_vertical_tablet="0px" box_shadow_blur_tablet="40px" box_shadow_spread_tablet="0px" fb_built="1" bb_built="1" _i="0" _address="0" min_height="420px"][et_pb_fullwidth_header title="The Blessings of Aquera" text_orientation="center" module_class="subpage-hero" _builder_version="3.29.3" title_font="||||||||" title_font_size="55px" subhead_font="Germania One||||||||" subhead_font_size="16px" background_color="rgba(126,190,197,0)" background_image="https://gooeycube.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/Amulet.jpg" parallax="on" hover_enabled="0" custom_css_main_element="height: 60vh;" _i="0" _address="0.0" min_height="80vh"][/et_pb_fullwidth_header][/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built="1" _builder_version="3.29.3" background_image="https://gooeycube.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/white-texture-bg-2.jpg" custom_padding="0px||0px|||" fb_built="1" _i="1" _address="1"][et_pb_row _builder_version="3.29.3" custom_padding="3%||3%||true|false" _i="0" _address="1.0"][et_pb_column type="4_4" _builder_version="3.29.3" _i="0" _address="1.0.0"][et_pb_text _builder_version="3.29.3" text_font_size="18px" _i="0" _address="1.0.0.0"]

Sailors! Merchants! Fisherfolk! Travelers! One and all, take heed! Lady Aquera is not a goddess to whom you should give passing reverence, only when you are about to embark upon her waters. Do not even the Goruund of the scalding Dakon Buanda honor the mountain springs that sustain them? Is the grain that feeds your families not carried upon the great rivers to reach the market? Do the rains not revive a dry land, ease a parched throat, and wash away the filth that breeds disease? What of the beauty that gratifies the soul when beholding a placid lake? Are the seas not roads greater than the works of any mortal?

In your gratitude for these blessings, think of Aquera! Each day we rely on her favors, does she not deserve honor and worship in return? Yet do not fear the Waterbearer! Rejoice in the gifts she gives! She loves her children, the Myruun, dearly, and is ever vigilant on behalf of the mariners that call upon her name. But she is no less devoted to any that pay her the proper respect. The sea is tempestuous, and storms may scour the land; Lady Aquera does not hesitate to unleash her wrath against the wicked and faithless. But those that offer sincere prayers and heartfelt offerings will be renewed by her blessed streams! They will not want for fresh water when they thirst, and they may sail through the fiercest gale without fear!

Come unto the great cathedral on Godsday, worship and behold the beauty amidst the tranquil waters of the bay! Commune with one another, and know that you please the Mistress of the Waters! Share in the bounty of the sea, and enjoy the gifts of her blessings. Aquera’s services are not dull, ponderous affairs, they are joyous celebrations! But know that the Waterbearer is not a stickler for rote rituals; she is goddess of seafarers and other practical folk that work long hours, often far from home and temple. Visit her shrines in the bilge of a ship or atop a mountain spring, you are never far from her sacred places! But even should you find no idols of Lady Aquera, she is not a vain goddess, only listening to those in starched robes who stand before gilded altars. Pray to her, and the waters will carry your words to her, even if only by the vapor in your breath!

Worship Aquera, you of all mortal kindreds! She is deserving of praise!

-Inisha Deepshoal, Servant of Aquera

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Hail friend, you seem a little lost. New to the isles? You have the look of one that hasn’t traveled ten miles beyond your home until now, and from somewhere far inland at that. No, I don’t mean any offense, no shame in it. It’s just you seemed to be staring at those Myruun sailors over there like you’d never seen their ilk before. I’d be happy to introduce you to the masters of the sea; I’ve served, bled, laughed, and cried alongside Myruun on a dozen different ships over the past 25 years, and owe more than a few of them my life. It’s the least I could do.

The stout-hearted, and steadfast people commonly known as the Myruun have ever been nearly synonymous with “water.” When one imagines river rapids, tranquil lakes, or ocean waves, often a Myruunic figure is included in the picture painted by their mind’s eye. Thus, it can be said that the maiden of the waves, the Waterbearer: Aquera, did well in leading the creation of this semi-aquatic race. And it is this affinity for the water that dictates the majority of what it means to be Aruna’sundra.

Whether far inland, or sailing the trackless oceans, it is very rare to see a Myruun far from their favored element. This is due in no small part to their psychological preference to the movement and fluidity of water but can also be traced back to a physiological drive as well, since their moist, rubbery skin tends to shrivel and flake if not occasionally submerged in water. Still, while Myruun of every stripe tend to gravitate toward vocations that revolve around water in some form or another, their strong tendency to throw themselves fully into the perfection of whatever they pursue sees members of this tenacious people traveling to every corner of Zyathé.

Customarily, a Myruun’s daily routine will be strictly regimented as many tend to maintain a very habitual lifestyle. Curiously, however, they have garnered a collective reputation for closely mirroring the ever shifting – and often extreme – moods of their original creator: Aquera. At times, their demeanor can be as calm and innocuous as a lake with barely a ripple to disturb the stillness, yet at others, they can be as fiery and aggressive as a blustering squall… before becoming placid once more as if nothing had happened. This oddly decisive tendency can be a little jarring for other folk at first but gives the Myruun a particularly lively and vivacious image that has endeared them to peoples the world over.

It should be noted, however, that not all Myruun are so easily categorized as each individual is completely unique and may, or may not, represent the accepted behavior of the people as a whole. A perfect example of this would be the legendary Myruunic Fleetmaster known as “Deadeye” Scarlett Dalukress. Even in the most violent of hurricane winds, with great waves breaking across the bow of her flagship, the Balance Breaker, her demeanor remained utterly unshakable and completely serene. That stalwart disposition eventually earned her the moniker of “Deadeye” as stories abound of her standing on the splintering deck of her ship, winds and rain battering the hapless vessel from all sides as she calmly sighted in her heavy crossbow before loosing a bolt that would bury itself in an enemy captain’s left eye hundreds of feet away on his own, heaving vessel.

All in all, whether chaotic in temperament like their creator or not, the Myruun are a noble and proud people who have capitalized on their patronage of the pantheon of gods – and their natural prowess with waterborne occupations – to become some of the best navigators, fisherfolk, pirates, and ship captains in the world, a fact they are quick to point out on a regular basis to any willing to listen to a tale or two.

-Erin D’ecquis, Merchant, Explorer, and Busybody

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Did you hear Fishmouth spluttering on again about one of those “secret” Myruun cities? Full of grog and fool’s tales, he is. You ever met a Myruun that didn’t brag from Sulrise to Eventine ‘bout their ships, their bloody floating cities, and every other thing they ever done? You’d think the gods had never even thought of water before their kind came along. ‘Sides, what use would there be in telling us ‘bout some of their floating cities, and not the others? What’ve they got to hide, eh?

Fishmouth was trying to convince me there’s nearly a score of those ocean-riding cities out there, beyond the three honest sailors have been to. I’d never set foot on one, myself. Said they go all the way back to those arks the Myruun built during the Woe of Ruin. Ha! Even said they could stay sealed beneath the waves, riding out the storm beneath the sea! Never seen a ship that could do that, now the Myruun are keeping two big secrets from the rest of us?

Then he had the guts to claim he’d actually been aboard one of these mythical cities, after being lost at sea for weeks on account of falling overboard during a freak storm. Says he got picked up from a sand bank by a galleon flying strange colors, and was pulled onto deck by Myruun with spotty dark brown skin, like sea leopards! Can you imagine? I told he must have been hallucinating, too much sun and not enough water. But Fishmouth insisted they still looked that way after he rested up. Seems they got the gist of his Myruunic easy enough, but he says it took him a couple weeks to get the hang of their dialect.

They took him back to their city, anchored who-knows-where in the empty stretches of the Mystranic, supposedly. No way it could’ve been Osensia, or Barabatia, much less Langtar, at least according to him. His strange Myruun rescuers called it Icaria, and said it came from an ark of the same name that was beached against the side of a volcano until a dragon pulled it free, back into the ocean. Now they keep to themselves, but have a soft spot for stranded seafarers, and that’s why they rescued him. He says he saw dozens of Myruun ships anchored there, and thousands of their kind, mostly the mottled brown Icarians, but also those that were dark grey, some that were corpse-pale, and plenty of the ones you and I are used to seeing. If all that were true, why there’d be nearly as many Myruun as Dwarves or Humans!

But the crown jewel of this yarn Fishmouth is trying to spin is that he says they let him stay for a while, but when he wanted to go home, they blindfolded him and kept him below deck in a room with no windows for the whole trip back to civilization, so he couldn’t remember where this fabled Icaria was. Sent him on a ship with a crew of normal Myruun, so no one would see these other clans. All so convenient! I gave him a long dressing down ‘bout trying to pass off idle daydreams as Zendraca’s truth; such tales might be good for impressing the barmaids, but I’m too clever by half to fall for it!

-Brog, Warehouse Worker and Thug-for-Hire

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[et_pb_section fb_built="1" fullwidth="on" _builder_version="3.29.3" z_index_tablet="500" box_shadow_horizontal_tablet="0px" box_shadow_vertical_tablet="0px" box_shadow_blur_tablet="40px" box_shadow_spread_tablet="0px" fb_built="1" bb_built="1" _i="0" _address="0"][et_pb_fullwidth_header title="A Look at the Saltscourge" text_orientation="center" module_class="subpage-hero" _builder_version="3.29.3" title_font="||||||||" title_font_size="55px" subhead_font="Germania One||||||||" subhead_font_size="16px" background_color="rgba(126,190,197,0)" background_image="https://gooeycube.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/myruun-1.jpg" parallax="on" custom_css_main_element="height: 60vh;" _i="0" _address="0.0"][/et_pb_fullwidth_header][/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built="1" _builder_version="3.29.3" background_image="https://gooeycube.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/white-texture-bg-2.jpg" custom_padding="0px||0px|||" fb_built="1" _i="1" _address="1"][et_pb_row _builder_version="3.29.3" custom_padding="3%||3%||true|false" _i="0" _address="1.0"][et_pb_column type="4_4" _builder_version="3.29.3" _i="0" _address="1.0.0"][et_pb_text _builder_version="3.29.3" text_font_size="18px" _i="0" _address="1.0.0.0"]

That’s Commodore Misvanarga! The Kraken-killer! They say he don’t set foot on land but for the most important of occasions, so he must be meetin’ with one of the Merchant Lords or summat. I seen the emerald sails on the ships that came into harbor yesterday – but his fleet is scattered across the Blueshine – would’a never guessed he was here in person! We gotta get to the wharf later and try’n get a look at his flagship, the Saltscourge. They say it’s the biggest vessel this side of the Mystranic; if’n you can rub Aquera’s face on the figurehead, beasts from the deep will bring you back to land if you’re ever shipwrecked. It’s true! My sister-in-law’s cousin serves in the Commodore’s fleet, and when his ship went down in a squall, the only ones on the crew that survived were those as had rubbed Aquera’s bonny bronze face!

But nevermind that for now. Now that I think of it, may not be a good sign, seein’ the ol’ Commodore here. Only reason I can figure he’d deign to actually leave the deck of the Saltscourge for is there’s a threat to the whole Archipelago – too big for the fleet on its own. Otherwise he’d just handle it himself, the Kraken-killer didn’t get his name from shying away from no danger! He’s never had the patience for all the jawing and games of politics, too busy for such nonsense. He’d only endure it if’n he had no choice. Come on, let’s follow him, see where he goes. Bet you five Golds he heads right for the arsenal. Whatever it is, he’s gonna need to see the free captains and militia commanders as much as the Merchant Lords, mark my words.

Don’t you worry, though. As far as I’m concerned, there’s not a threat on Zyathé that grand ol’ Myruun and his fleet couldn’t handle. Wasn’t just the kraken he single-handedly harpooned that built his reputation, he’s been makin’ his own fate since he was just a lad. A while back the hordes of Magdronog got tired of plundering the Republic and thought the Blueshine’d make a nice easy target for some slavin’ raids. Not one Orc boot stepped foot on one of these fair isles, Misvanarga sent the lot of them down to the deep. The cabal of necromancers and their corpse-fleet that came some years later didn’t fare any better, the Commodore sank their rottin’ leviathans and dispatched the souls of their putrid crew to Mal’uthuk, where they belong!

It’s no surprise, really. When a Myruun like him puts his mind to somethin’, they won’t rest ‘til it's done, no matter the odds. In fact, what is surprisin’ ‘bout him is, aside from patrollin’ the waves and captainin’ the fleet, he’s apparently quite the paramour – findin’ the time for a few dozen mistresses across the Archipelago, and beyond. They say he’s got twice as many children as a result, and he’s devoted to one and all of ‘em. Most of his kin wouldn’t dream of such a distractin’ pastime, but I s’pose if you’re as famous and successful as he is, and still have some spare time, it might be hard not to indulge in the adorations of some lovers, eh?

Ah, I see he does seem to have been joined by some fine lasses, and they’re headin’ into the inn, not the armory. Mayhaps there’s not a grave threat to the Blueshine, after all. Good news, that, but not so good for my coinpouch. Here’s your pay.

Well, let’s go see the Saltscourge anyway, I’d like to get back some of my luck.

-One-Eyed Grannac, Deck Hand

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Ha! I can see the “hidden” smuggler’s holds on that jumped-up barge from here. Won’t make it a mile into Andvallan waters before it’s boarded. I’ve worked with real blockade runners before; it’s a profession that quickly separates the quick and the clever from the imprisoned, or the dead.

What? Don’t act so nervous, all trade is fair game here in the cities of the Blueshine. Business is business here, it’s when you head up to Verdestia proper that you’ve got to worry about the sort of goods you’re carrying. Raw flowstones from the Onyx Sea down in Sundestia, for example, are strictly regulated. Dangerous stuff, raw flowstone, but there aren’t many Flowcutters outside Zustrenia. There are those that would trade a kingdom for certain flowstones, so for some it’s worth the risk. A chance to live in luxury for the rest of your days after just one haul? I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered trying it myself.

For others though, it isn’t even about the Golds – at least not anymore. It’s the thrill of it that now drives them to smuggle all manner of contraband across the seas. En’durz Hazzin, outcast Aethyrian merchant and finest smuggler I’ve ever seen... he’s the one that comes to mind. I remember that sleek cutter of his pulling up to one of my berths over in Kartagess. Sat low in the water, it was so overloaded with illegal goods, including a fair few of those glittering, deadly stones, fresh from the mines. He had half a dozen mages constantly renewing the wards over the flowstones, and most of the crew still barely managed to stagger off the boat before succumbing to Flowsickness. He gave me the dues he owed for docking, and the cut for the Merchant Lords, but then he pulled me aside and told me his plan to sail his cargo straight into the Dunharbor beneath Darkenhaven.

The madman! But he asked for my help, and the scheme was too intriguing by far to turn him down. First he needed a new crew from the Archipelago, since the ones that had got him here from Sundestia were going to need a few months recovery. Easy enough. But then he needed me to track down a Sarth bakery somewhere amongst the isles. That’s the sort of bizarre request I love! Took a bit of doing, but I actually found one here in Serpent Cove. En’durz loaded up the flowstones and shipped them over to the bakery. Took some cajoling and a prodigious stack of coin, but the Sarth bakers agreed to bake the raw stones into a few dozens of loaves. I hear even after scrubbing out their ovens the pastries still come out strange colors! But it worked, you couldn’t tell those baskets of bread from any other, aside from the weight, and En’durz thought of that too. An old enchanter friend of his ensorcelled them to lift just the way they should without a bunch of gemstones baked into them.

In spite of all that, I was sure he’d get caught. Sailing straight past the pride of the Republic navy, dozens of customs ships with mages ready to dispel any illusions, I didn’t give him a Vyundial’s chance in the Abyss. Once you get into the sea caves of the Dunport, you can disappear for good if you like, but the trick is getting in there in the first place. I figured he’d be rotting in a dark cell and moved on with other business, but not six months later he was back, pulling into my dock with another load of illegal Du’unsarran stones! He never explained what all it took to make it through, but he tossed me a small, amber sphere: a perfectly cut Xanthous flowstone! He wasn’t going to try the bread gambit again, but he had more than enough ideas to keep the game running for decades. We made a tidy profit together, but about a year ago he made his last run of raw flowstones. Not because he couldn’t keep passing them under the noses of Republic tax collectors, no, En’durz just got bored and decided to try something new.

Last I heard he was operating out of the Dunport now, smuggling young Half-Orcs and Ordrin with sorcerous talents out of Magdronog and Nordrukka and back to the Republic. Seems Zyranthea wants the arcane edge in the next war, but I doubt En’durz has gone soft and patriotic on us, all he cares is that it might be the only job more dangerous and exciting than his last one. If that ain’t the spirit of the Blueshine, I don’t know what is!

-Jervil Mabson, Entrepreneur and self-proclaimed ‘Master Procurerer’

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Cheers and greetings, my friends!

Come, join me as I rest from my travels. There is a wayshrine of Davodandalus not far from here, and I happen to know that the attached tavern and inn run by its quiescent priests offers some of the heartiest ales, finest pipeleafs, and softest beds for many miles. Besides providing a fine hearth where you can take your ease and put up your feet, there are few better places to sit and listen to the fascinating tales of your fellow travelers. Whether you’ve been exploring Zyathé for many years or have just set out from your homeland for the first time, there are always intriguing new stories of illustrious heroes, deadly monsters, and faraway lands to be heard. A few of them might even be true!

Being near the border of Andvalla, I expect we may hear of the strange happenings in that ancient land, including the rise of its new queen… and her, shall we say unexpected, first acts as sovereign. However, history runs deep in these parts, deeper than Andvalla or even the Etherns that ruled before the Woe of Ruin. Memories fade and tales grow in the telling, but if you listen carefully, you may catch a true spark of the earliest days of this Wy’rded World. But also keep an ear out for more immediate concerns, like the beasts that prowl along the roads in this region. For you never know when hearing of another’s misfortune might save your own life!

Ah, here we are. Let’s head inside and see if we can get a bite to eat and catch a good tale or two.

- Alphinius Goo

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Blessings of Davodandalus

“Welcome, traveler, to the Smoky Hearth! I am Sir Rudy Dobrindle, Knight of Repose, and barkeep for this fine establishment. I trust the food and drink are to your liking, and I assure you, you will have the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had tonight on one of our magnificent beds. If you partake of the noble pipeleaf, we have many of the finest Zustrenian and Sundestian blends, but also a number of quality local varieties. I would recommend Andvallan Gold against any of the imported foreign leafs, and you can trust a Paladin of Davodandalus on such things! Should you need a new pipe for your leaf, brother Brightleaf in the shrine next door would be happy to carve you one; I happen to know he is a master at shaping seastone, and I believe he still has a block of beautiful Sundestrian Briarroot.

Many aren’t taken with the leaf, and that’s just fine. Even if you’ve no need of a pipe though, you should go visit the shrine. Davodandalus is god of more than just smoking and the affairs of Halfling folk such as myself, though not many know it. He watches over hard workers and weary travelers, such as yourself. All diligent people deserve rest and respite from their labors, and to be untroubled by worries, disruptions, or wicked brutes that would rob them of enjoying the fruits of their own labor. When I’m not running the counter I make patrols along the road outside to make sure no brigands trouble the good folk resting here.

Davodandalus is easygoing as gods go, as you might expect from the god of relaxation. He’s happy to provide his blessings to all, whether they give him prayers and offerings or not. However, those that give him worship often find their burdens greatly lightened, an hour’s doze may feel as restful as a full night’s sleep, and insurmountable troubles will seem to melt away before them. And attending a service to the Lord of Pipes is far from a taxing experience! No droning sermons to endure, or painful acts of contrition to perform. In truth, taking your ease here at the inn isn’t so different from the rites in the chapel. And, so long as you raise a genuinely thankful prayer to Davodandalus while you do so, you can get a pint and a bowl of leaf for free as part of the service! Not a bad deal, eh? Well, I hope to see you over there sometime during your stay, friend. But whatever you choose to do, enjoy your stay with the blessings of Davodandalus!”

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The Trees Have Eyes

“Gather ‘round, no sense in sullenly staring into your mugs when there’s a tale to hear and wisdom to be imparted!

Now, even the most sheltered nobles will have heard tales of the Bramble Creepers that stalk the woodlands of Zyathé, but few have seen the wicked monstrosities for themselves. Or so they think! If you’ve ever encountered one of the monstrous Creepers, you know there’s no telling them from the surrounding branches and briers until they start moving and open those wicked, glowing eyes. Now, with the hateful fury that usually defines a Bramble Creeper attack, you would imagine that they are prolific hunters, and the relative scarcity of their assaults is due to a commensurate scarcity in Creepers.

This is decidedly not the case! In fact, Bramble Creepers spend most of their time hibernating, remaining perfectly still in a torpor. While in such a state, even the most devout follower of Verdaus could not distinguish one Creeper in ten from the surrounding foliage. Their bodies are indistinguishable from the bark of most trees, and their clawed limbs bear the most uncanny resemblance to dead branches. The unmistakable conclusion is that for every such beast reported, there must be countless more slumbering nearby. You there, have you ever gathered wood for a fire? Have you ever rested in the shade beneath the boughs of a large tree after a long day? Then it’s a certainty that you have been mere feet from death on at least one occasion, without even knowing it!

Nor is their camouflage appearance their only trickery! Experienced travelers such as myself know not to trust the sounds of lost children crying for help or beautiful maidens singing in a forest glade. However, for the less seasoned wayfarers among you, such imploring and alluring sounds are, more often than not, the work of cunning mimicry by foul monsters. The Bramble Creepers are no exception! They are among the most devious of such mocking beasts. So if you ever hear a call for aid, if there’s any woodland nearby, you can safely walk on your way with a clear conscious, knowing that you were clever enough to avoid the trap set by a Bramble Creeper. Assuredly, if you had gone to investigate, you would have been torn and mutilated in just a few moments by the creature’s jagged claws and horrid teeth!

What’s that? Have I ever actually seen a Bramble Creeper? Well, er, no. Rather, that is, like anyone, I have seen many a recently-fed Bramble Creeper disguised as fallen branches and dead shrubs. I could not tell a single one from a regular piece of timber, which just goes to prove my point! I am just fortunate that none of them awakened and attempted to attack me, though they surely would have failed against such a seasoned adventurer as myself. Nor have I fallen for any of their attempts at pantomime: ‘Help, we’re being attacked by brigands!’ ‘Please, my child has fallen in the well!’ ‘By the gods, how can you just stroll by, man, help!’ Indeed! They’re crafty beasts, but I’m too smart by half to be duped by such transparent chicanery! Could I see the people calling out? Of course, that’s how they get you! Now, you all be careful out there, I won’t always be there to look out for you against these dangers!”

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Ancient Days

“Did you see those stones on the side of the road just outside? Strange, aren’t they? Seem out of place. Well, that’s cause they are. You couldn’t tell it anymore, but long ago, before the Woe, before the Etherns, before whoever came before them, those stones were a temple and the town that surrounded it. The Halflings built them, can you believe that? They were here in Verdestia before any of the rest of us, and it seems they were more ambitious without taller folk around. You have to go nearly two hundred miles south into Andvalla to find other stones like those; the early Halflings dragged them here with nothing more than ropes and logs. Even if every one of them in Western Verdestia helped haul the things into place, it would have taken many years. When you head out in the morn, take a look at those stones, else you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.

You’ll find crude carvings of Buffahn’s goblet and Davodandalus’ pipes, as you’d expect, as well as Taroneus’ claw, the sunrise of Suleos, and many more besides. Even some that would raise eyebrows nowadays, like Mal’uthuk’s skull and Gloome’s mask, but things were different back then amongst gods and mortals alike. There are other symbols as well, pictures of soaring dragons and the gleaming Sul. There are many, deeply-etched lines in a craggy script circling the stones, though I doubt anyone has been able to read their words for a very long time. If you stand in the right position betwixt the rocks on the 21st of Jalu’un at sulset, the Sul, Luneós, Vixen, and many of the stars will still perfectly align. Even now after the days of corruption were added. All of this is quite interesting, or at least it is to an old scholar like me, but none of it is why you should wander amongst the stones.

It may take a few minutes to find them, but you will recognize what you’re looking for immediately. Here and there amongst the stones you will find one that appears, for lack of a better comparison, to have been melted. Bizarre patterns, unlike anything wrought by the diligent Halflings, are graven upon the warped surface of the rock, and if you block all other sources of light, you can see that these markings emit the faintest, flickering blue glow, like the after-image of a bolt of lighting. Others have patches that are soot black, as from an incredible inferno, while still others will be crowned with growths of flowers that shouldn’t be able to root in the bare rock. As a canny observer, I’m sure your first thought will be that these are scars left by the Woe of Ruin, but a careful study of the magicks surrounding them will show you that these are far, far older.

They are, I believe, some of the only physical traces of a great war, a war that rivalled even the Nether War between the gods themselves, but which has almost been lost to the depths of antiquity. It was the Elves that melted and twisted those stones, but not as you or I know that folk. No, in their earliest days, before they were split into their different kindreds, they were creatures of unmatched splendor, so beautiful and powerful the other mortals could not turn their gaze directly upon them. They strode across Zyathé, reshaping the land according to their whims, driven ever on by manic dreams. It seems they reached as far as Verdestia; the Halflings must have thought the gods themselves had descended to stand before them. However, their deific glory turned to terror as their dreams of beauty turned to nightmares of unbridled madness. Zyathé was nearly unmade, butMorvenea, their mother, asked Decisae, who was known as Cebreen in those days, to bring them to heel.

Cebreen scoured the world at the head of the legions of law, rank after rank of mighty Antrasood wielding crackling lances and galvanic axes astride deadly Vantrasood. Into the chaotic maelstrom they charged, flanked by towering, multi-hued Scandrasood that smashed the mercurial disarray that seized Zyathé back into order and reason with their mighty fists. The strange patterns and charred stones are the wounds left by these weapons of law. It was a battle that raged across every continent, and none can say how long it lasted, for the flow of time itself was bent and twisted while it ravaged the world. But eventually the Elves were subdued, scattered unto the care of many gods to be remade, the servants of Cebreen returned to the Equis, and the ages turned. Even the descendents of the Halflings who were forced to flee this place in terror eventually forgot the ruin brought by the ancient Elves. In most places the signs of those cataclysmic battles have been worn away, but here, in those sacred stones, the evidence remains. See for yourself when you pass them by tomorrow, before returning to your busy affairs, and know that you are one of only a handful to know of that dark, distant chapter of history.”

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