The Book Of Tales - Chapter V

[Z3r05t4r 855]

The Book of Tales

 

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tg4A3DBLrSA

 

 

Foreword of the publisher

 

"Old blood runs deep and has long histories." - Isovar Kurben

 

I, Novtorn Stonefire, have decided to begin releasing the chapters and stories of the "Book of Tales". What the book be, you may ask, so I shall answer. The "Book of Tales" is less of a book, but more of a compendium of past times, reaching back further and more extensive into Human history than any book I know of. It tells the tale of not only my family, but the tales of many a man who lived and walked the lands before our ancestors. Written in a tongue long lost to the common man.

 

Translating it out of its original language is a difficult task, a task, on which three men before me have worked on and succeeded to various amounts. These first chapters were translated by Isovar Kurben, the son of Galtor I. Stafyr. He received the book originally from his grandfather Beorn Stafyr, who was an aged man at that time. Let his words speak for him.

 

 

I. Chapter - Myth

 

 

Grandfather had become open about his past in these past two years. He was nearing his eighty-sixth birthday, he was weak and tired. I suppose that he wished to ease his mind before heading on. For the stories he has told and things he had done I can understand. Yet again, it deems me that Grandfather intended to preserve something, thus he gave me this mysterious book, called "Book of Tales". In his dying breath he told me... no, us, not to forget our roots and to preserve tales of old.

 

Uncle Hanethor was suspicious what it could mean, but he seemingly shrugged it off and turned his attention back to the progressing march of the undead. Father did not seem to care too much either, though he mourned remarkably. Aunt Sybilla wept lightly, but a kind smile was on her face... like she has forgiven him for something.

I will try to maintain a constant series of entries as I progress with the book Grandfather gave me. Consider this the first.

 

...

 

I have given it plenty of thoughts, though I assume it is best to start with talking about the past with the first who belongs to it. The stories Grandfather told me are a heavy burden on my mind, but blood and family are supposed to know some day.

 

My Grandfather, Beorn Stafyr, committed theft and murder. For a quarrel with his father, Brimar, and being disowned by him, he had slain his very own mother, Alexandra, and stole the heirlooms of his family, leaving a mourning father with a younger brother, Gorn, behind. The heirlooms consist of following items:

 

First and foremost, an old crown of copper with an emerald, to be worn by the head of Stafyr. Uncle Hanethor currently has it and wears it often enough.

 

Secondly, our old falcon Thondor, grey feathered with a small green tabard. Father meant he had looked like that ever since he can think back, when he was but a child. He seems to be in service to Hanethor.

 

Thirdly, a set of armor, which deems me of incredible value. A plate armor of gold and a chainmail of silver. Nobody wears it right now, but we keep it safe, as it is... precious. There has to be something about it.

 

Also, two weapons so fine and sharp as if they were never used before, despite their high age. A foreign tongue is written on the hilts of the Longsword Hanethor and the Battleaxe (one-handed, I have to remark here) Galtor. Father and Uncle both wield their namesakes right now.

 

The last heirloom Grandfather gave me was this very book. Book of Tales. Records of times past, records of events, people and items. I wonder what I may dig up...

 

...

 

It was a dark day as we left our home two weeks ago. The undead are marching onward, nigh unstoppable. Uncle Hanethor led father and our men into a few battles, I took part with my bow. In terms of heirlooms, I was able to witness the twin blades in action for the first time. As if their weapons, armors and bodies were made of paper, Hanethor and Galtor cut through the dark and dead beings with ease. They were able to kill many a foe, but after losing a few men and the relentlessly assaulting undead seemed to take no end, we retreated. I can hear a horn sounding. Finishing this entry, battle calls.

 

...

 

The Verge. Father is dead.

 

...

 

We got split up. Uncle Hanethor's children are nowhere to be found. I only have Aunt Sybilla, Suldren, Sevren and his wife Aewves and Hunrad with me. Hunrad leads us, I do hope, to safety.

 

...

 

The last entry was years ago. Many a thing happened, I am an aging man now. And the last one alive it seems. I have made the decision to work on this book now, as much as I can, to preserve what can be preserved. To translate what can be translated.

 

 

- Personal Entries seem to end here -

 

 

Following was translated by Isovar Kurben from Old Rivachegian to the common tongue. It begins with the eldest entries.

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JX1_hs9idgk

 

 

Thus it was in old times past, that the Almannir came to meet their fate. A foe strong enough to crush an entire people, such was the test of Machr, dr Gott (God?). Fyrschlund, dr Dracha (Dragon?), came to consume the lives of many of the Almannir. Heroes fell in battle, one after another. Nobody could stop the beast with its insatiable hunger.

 

 

 

 

Even Großma, the last of the Galdr, fell to Fyrschlund after three days and nights of battle. As all hope seemed lost, the last chieftains of the Almannir came together and rallied their men to their side, a force numbering the thousands of thousands. Led by chieftain Rigfyr Stoafyer, chieftain Krashgar Rettersma, Altkö*** (King?) Zubr Altbom, chieftain Haralt Stoakachl and the female chieftain Juna Wiidafrou, the five armies drew a rainbow through the lands of the Almannir, green, yellow, light-brown, red and blue.

 

Fyrschlund has been waiting and was prepared. As the bright colored army approached the wastelands of the Northern regions of Almannir, where Fyrschlund has eaten man and Tier (animal?), consumed the plants and very earth itself, he greeted the five last heroes with an army of his own. Reeking and pitch-black, the Totamännr (?) crawled out of the cold and snowy wasteland, thousands and thousands of them, consuming the very light that shone upon them by the sun.

 

 

 

 

For a week the armies fought, dotting the white snow with tabards and armor of green, yellow, light-brown, red, blue and pitch-black. Fyrschlund himself became impatient at the unyielding Almannir and charged into battle himself, burning hundreds of the brave with his searing fire, smashing thousands with his claws and tails. And so it was time that the five chieftains of the Almannir came to fight Fyrschlund himself. Rettersma died first, but took the dragon's tail. Stoakachl took his wings before being stomped under Fyrschlunds claws. Altbom crippled his legs before vanishing in fire. Stoafyer took his breath before being crushed by his jaws. But Juna Wiidafrou was not able to slay the dragon, too deep her wounds were. The son of Rigfyr then approached, as the last Almannir standing amidst the field of colors and dead. Fyrschlund was enraged and tried to snap at him, to devour him, to destroy whatever he could from the people who have brought him to fall. Juna took her last will and power and blinded the one-eyed Fyrschlund with an arrow from one of his own Totamännr. Unseen, the son of Rigfyr, climbed on the furious, blind and maimed dragon and drove his lance deep into his skull, ending the nightmare. The Almannir saved their lands at the cost of their own lives. And thus the son of Rigfyr was the last of the Almannir, left alone in the endless wastelands covered in what have been such fertile and peaceful people.

 

 

- End of this translated section -

 

 

 

 

OOC:

 

Hope you enjoyed the read. This is the first of quite a few chapters and lore things I intend to release for Stafyr and possibly others (hint, hint). Feedback is welcome.

 

Credits to http://skaichu.deviantart.com/art/Dragon-roar-260629767 for the Dragon picture.

 

 

 

[Z3r05t4r 855]

((Please note this is a public release in RP. Located in various libraries.))

[Z3r05t4r 855]

II. Chapter - Origin

 

 

Wealtfyr, the first of the Almannir. A crumbling pillar of stone and dirt, Machr, dr Gott, took the eternal fire of the sun, the soothing coolness of the deepest waters, the rushing winds of the storms and bound them into Wealtfyr, giving him life, letting him breathe, smell, taste and see, feel the world as it was.

 

 

 

 

Machr told him to go forth and shape the world, to learn and live, to forget and die. In fear Wealtfyr was at first, as he knew nothing about what he was and where he came from, so he ran in panic, through forests and hills, swamps and mountains. Fleeing from Machr's presence. But the one and true Machr was always with him, no matter how far he ran, how deep he dived or how high he climbed. As Machr was part of the world itself and the world was part of Machr, such was impossible. As if a madness was consuming him, Wealtfyr began to climb Himmlsbruck (???), to meet an early end. Machr, dr Gott, was disappointed and intended to let this creation of his proceed and end itself, to vanish from the face of the world as fast as it came to meet it. Yet, just as Wealtfyr approached the ridge, two big palms held him back. Hands like his, but many times the size. So Wealtfyr met Rugr, a Galdr, a creation of Machr which has wandered the lands for long and forgotten times. Wealtfyr's madness subsided and he went with the Galdr to his home, Hangaldr, the city of the First.

 

 

(Credits to this picture go to: http://jaikart.deviantart.com/art/Mountain-City-Gate-408618594 )

 

 

Machr was always keen watching over the small Wealtfyr amongst the old and mighty Galdr, who taught him their ways of life, faith and their tongue, Rivachegian. Soon enough, Wealtfyr went to Himmlsbruck again, using his new-found voice to speak to Machr, to bid him for forgiveness, to thank him for life and existence and to pray. Machr then proceeded to gift Wealtfyr with a companion, his future wife Adgalla. The unusual looks and shape of her waked interest but also suspicion amongst the Galdr, which have never seen a being such as Adgalla.

 

Many years passed and the children of Wealtfyr and Adgalla were five:

 

Stoafyer the Steadfast

Rettersma the Helpful

Altbom the Noble

Stoakachl the Strong

Wiidafrou the Gentle

 

Machr was pleased with what his creations have become and gifted each of Wealtfyr's and Adgalla's children a companion themselves. A name given by the Galdr soon found its way to Wealtfyr and his family. Almannir.

 

As the Almannir grew in number and size, Wealtfyr's family was soon so big, that the eldest five great grandchildren of his went ahead and founded the five Almannir clans. And yet again, as time went on, soon the Almannir outnumbered the Galdr, who could not have children and who began to perish from dark creatures appearing and pouring into the peaceful lands of Galdrland. Sparks lead to fire, and so the Almannir saw themselves forced to leave their long mentors and old friends. By keeping their ways and their tongue, the Almannir forged an ever-lasting bond with the dwindling Galdr, of whom Obrma their Altkönig (King?) said, that their time is coming to an end and a new chapter would begin for the Almannir, the small people. A first tale has been told of four siblings in a far away land, and that soon enough the Almannir would join the kin of the four siblings.

 

- End of this translated section -

[Z3r05t4r 855]

III. Chapter - Promises

 

“Min Vatr war Prifyr, dr Soh vo Rigfyr.“ - Stafyr

 

Silus‘ note:

 

Following translated sections of this quite extensive compendium of history and knowledge in regards to Humans, more specifically to the old ancestry of the noble family of Stafyr, give a curious amount of insight onto the coming of the Stonefires, their “adventures” and encounters and how their heirlooms came to be. Though it has to be considered that going for other sections which are not translated entirely as of this moment that other bloodlines, yes, even the Hansetian people themselves might have Almannir ancestry flowing in them.

Fact is, this book is old and the tales reach far back. And I have only come to understand so much of old Rivachegian. Isovar’s work ends here, most likely because he did not pick up the book or was indisposed or probably dead already. So I shall pick up.

 

 

- Personal Entries seem to end here -

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y9Pji-J0lc

 

 

Stafyr, was his name. A son of Prifyr (S: This might be an indication that Prifyr had more children, hence this might indicate that Stafyr Stonefire actually had siblings. If those had children themselves, I cannot tell at this point.), who bested and has slain Fyrschlund, devourer of the Galdr and Almannir.

 

Stonefire, he chose, for it was the name of the eldest of Wealtfyr, the first Almannir Machr has awoken and breathed his will and spirit into. To go with language and time, the name was renewed.

 

Remembering the past in the name you give yourself, not to forget the peril his blood and people have gone through, and that he descends from the last of the Almannir and that he shall hold up the principles of old, the Galdr have taught. Lawfulness, to never speak wrong justice and uphold righteousness, Honor, to do good and retain your name, Loyalty, to never betray your friends and remain true to your kin and people, Family, for your blood is what flows in them as well as theirs flows in you, Truth, for you shall not speak lies as they have brought for the end of many a people, who were unwilling to see it. These five principles Stafyr held up high and induced them into his children as his father before him and his grandfather before him and all of his ancestry. For such the Almannir were given the ways of the Galdr, ancient but powerful ways.

 

“Wenn mir nümma sen, denn sen ihr dia nöchschta um zum witrführa was dr Machr üs uferlet hot.”

 

Those were the words of Obrma to Wealtfyr. A promise Wealtfyr has given to Obrma and which he promised his children would uphold from the first breath to the last of days and beyond.

 

 

 

 

But not alone the name it was, for the promise to be remembered, for the promise to be carried on. Prifyr left Stafyr the very crown of all the Almannir, the simple crown of copper, embedded with one of the five gems of Himmlsbruck (S: still not sure, if this is a place), forged by the strong and gentle palms of Rugr, who saved Wealtfyr from his very demise at the same place.

 

The crown is to be worn by every true Altkö***, to lead their people and their blood through times of light and dark.  

 

 

- End of this translated section –

 

 

Silus’ note:

 

The copper crown does actually exist from what I deem. I saw it upon Godwein’s head when I was a young boy and this aged, mushroom-covered gentleman was having a conversation with my uncle, the Emperor Godfrey. Curious, considering now that it is so old, perhaps it fields some kind of properties… magical perhaps. Curious, where the other four gems of the Galdr are. Ruby, Sapphire, Amethyst and Topaz. Saw that in some notes of Isovar.

 

I best proceed with translating the upcoming chapters. It deems me that the other artifacts will get mentioned onwards. Tale of Thondor especially. I want to know how this falcon works..

 

 

 

[Z3r05t4r 855]

IV. Chapter - Will

 

“To seek what is left behind of the old Will.“ - Halfyr

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auwyGnkjK0E

 

 

So it was Halfyr who took the dangerous journey to a land far away and long forgotten, for it was consumed by the Terror his grandfather has slain. The very will inherited from his ancestors burned in him, a fire which could only be extingushed by satisfying the curiosity which drove him back to the lands of his forefathers.

 

With his brother Dendrag and the true friends Malkar and Truon he aspired a journey which would take him beyond the mountains seen in the far, beyond the lands of snow, to the birthplace of the Almannir, their lands, to the place where Fyrschlund’s terror found its end. Always heading towards the path the Emerald of the Galdr shone upon in the moonlight, the four brave, two of Almannir blood, two of Hanseti, closed in to Schildmur (S: refers to Shieldwall most likely. Must have been a long wall-like mountain range).

 

 

Unclimbable but for one passage old and forgotten, Schildmur splits the lands of the Almannir off from the rest of the realm. A passage only a true Almannir could find who would possess one of the gems of the Galdr. Led by the crown upon his head, Halfyr soon approached Alts Tor (S: Old Gate), sealed for long times already. As the gate did not open and the crown did not show on the path, the four brave settled down to rest in front of the gate. Little did they know, as they all slept, a rumbling being of stone hard and towering height stepped of its throne where it was watching the passage from afar. Dendrag woke first, seeing the manifestation approach. Waking his companions, they prepared themselves to fight the being, but it only wandered to the gate and shouted.

 

“Wer will ins Land vo dr Almannir? Wer redat? Wer suacht Itritt?”

 

As if it was a riddle, the four brave looked confused at first, when Dendrag stepped forth and shouted his answer.

 

“Halfyr, Dendrag, Malkar and Truon. Men true of faith and men seeking the Galdr of times old.”

 

“Dia kenn I net.” Answered the giant stone man, turned and left to his throne to sit and remain frozen for the rest of the night. With courage, the four brave remained to the next night. The stone giant approached again and asked again.

 

“Wer will ins Land vo dr Almannir? Wer redat? Wer suacht Itritt?”

 

This time Malkar, proud and strong as he was stepped forth and spoke.

 

“Halfyr, Dendrag, Malkar and Truon. Men to seek the heroes of times old, men to seek the will they left behind.”

 

“Dia kenn I net.” The giant stepped off again from the looming stone gate, sitting on his throne to rest for the night. On the third night it was the same again.

 

“Wer will ins Land vo dr Almannir? Wer redat? Wer suacht Itritt?”

 

This time Truon stepped forth, the gentle and humble amongst them.

 

“Emerald of the Galdr, which wishes to return home.”

 

“Denn kumm ham.” The stone giant rumbled and pushed open the gate, allowing the four to finally enter the lands of the Almannir after months of journey. As they stepped onwards through the big an empty halls, giant statues alike the stone giant of the gate, sitting on thrones staring down at them, watching their every step. Only by then they came to realize, these were mere replicas of the old Galdr themselves. At the very end of the hall of statues was another gate, a small pillar upon which shone the moonlight through a hole far up. Halfyr immediately knew what he had to do, so he settled down the crown on the dusty stone. As the light struck the Emerald of the Galdr, the reflected light touched the gate and it began to open, silent as if it was not there.

 

 

 

 

Upon their eyes, in the dim moonlight they saw the features of a land far and untouched, left alone after the creator’s hand had touched it. Where the Galdr and Almannir lived and where the great terror Fyrschlund consumed all of them but one. Halfyr’s grandfather Prifyr.

 

- End of this translated section –

[Z3r05t4r 855]

V. Chapter - Remnants

 

“Forgotten by times, but the quarrel remains.“ - Altark

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v2qOllkxwiw

 

 

So Halfyr and his brave companions went on, as the sun called for the new day, starting the second part of their journey at the very gate which let them into the lands of his ancestry. Calm and untouched the lands were, dense forests about, with the occasional meadow in between, where fallen trees, rocks and animals have kept the growth at bay. Sparkling, small, water meandered its way between their feet once in a while as they crossed little rivers, which there were in plenty, holding the valleys green and lush. It was not long when atop a free hill Dendrag shouted.

 

“There in the distance, the clouds so gloomy and grey, looming above a huge field faint in colors, covered in white?”

 

Malkar with his keen eyes stepped forward and spoke up.

 

“Looming above it all, a huge shadow, shrouded in mist.”

 

Truon said at last.

 

“Be it, what I think it is? The shadow that endangered us all?”

 

Halfyr, brave, led on, his three companions with him down the hill into an unapparent valley, dense with forest. As they went deeper, the light dimmed down, but it was barely past noon, so evening might not be calling. Soon the four realized that the trees grew thicker and darker by each step they took. Just as Malkar wanted to speak, they heard the rattling of bones and the clangs of steel. With care, they proceeded on, to approach a dimly lit opening in the thick of the forest, where the ground was covered in many a robe black and many a robe red. In the midst of it all stood four, the number of the travellers, two clad in dark armor, bones in their appearance, the cruelty and hate seeping out of them as black mist, the other two clad in chain of iron and silver, tabards red, but bodies almost ethereal, pride and bravery apparent on their faces, as they fought their black counterparts.

 

(Credits for this picture go to: http://kingkostas.deviantart.com/art/skeleton-warrior-370364708)

 

 

Dendrag silently said at first.

 

“These be remnants of old times, brother Halfyr.”

 

Malkar followed up.

 

“The beings in dark are Totamännr and very powerful ones indeed.”

 

Truon added on.

 

“Proud, strong and bearing red, the men of the old chieftain Harald Stoakachl were known to be resilient fighters.”

 

For ages the two Totamännr battled against the two brave spirits, but as the four companions arrived at the place of their seemingly eternal battle, it was obvious that the two spirits were on the verge of suffering defeat. Even as Halfyr stepped into the yard, the combatants took no notice of him, nor of his companions. It was on a whim, when Halfyr drew his sword and charged at the one Totama who had one of the spirits on his knees. As he swung the sword and drove it into the dark beings shoulder, cracking the armor and bones deep, the Totama turned towards him.

 

“What foul creature you are, to even exist and wander these planes. Begone!”

 

As if it was laughing, the cold empty eyepits began to glow an infernal blue and cold began to emit all across Halfyr. It was manifested fear and darkness spilling out of the eyes of the being alone. Halfyr retreated to his companions with haste and surprise and soon the spirit was in combat with the Totama again, who at least regained his footing in the meantime.

 

“It is not for us to slay these beasts.”

 

As Halfyr looked around the area covered in old bodies, he spotted an old broken gate of stone in a hillside. The bodies were scattered in the direction of it.

 

“We may help, but what the spirits require of us is, to find it in there, to assure them their fight was not in vain.”

 

Without a further word, his brother Dendrag and good friend Malkar stepped forward through the darkness of the gate into the belly of the hill and mountain looming above them. Truon and Halfyr followed after. It would be the beginning of a journey long into the past, to where their ancestry lived and passed on their will.

 

- End of this translated section –

[JCmarine 12]

* Sophie Greyhame the Bryophite skims through this book "Hrm... seems like a good read. If I could just find the time to read this." * Sighs, looking at the undead corpse at her feet, the flesh charred "Hrm, and screw you mister undead."

[Lita 677]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.