Herein lies a store of legends and myths. Tales told from parent to child, from teacher to student over many generations. Some may be true many more may be false. Most will lie somewhere in between. As more of these legends come to light I will try to distill the truth from them and place them here so all can judge their value.
Akram Ben Ali was born several generations ago in a small oasis town in deapest Ylaruam. Strong and quick of hand and eye he found his way into the caravan trade, first as a guide then as a guard. His abilities led to great wealth as he became the best at his job and was hired by some of the most wealthy merchants of Ylaruam and its trading partners. Eventually he craved a weapon of his own design and commissioned the dwarven smiths of Rockholm to fashion it and the mages of Glantri to enchant it. So was fashioned Akram's Hammerblade. This mighty two handed weapon was so well balanced that a strong and agile fighter could get two attacks per round with it. One with the razor sharp axe blade and one with the crushing hammerhead It was said that he was never defeated in battle while wielding this and his wealth grew and grew. He collected works of art and gem encrusted finary in his home in Tel Al Kebir. When Akram died of an infected snake bite at the age of 45 he was buried with most of his wealth and his weapon in a secret site near the oasis of his birth. To this day no one has found this grave which is said to contain gems, statues, tapestries and mountains of coins that dragons could only dream of, but most prized of all, his Hammerblade. Rumours of curses and traps set about his tomb have been whispered of, when people ask about Akram Ben Ali and his tomb.
The Hands Of Beluz The Sly
Beluz was born in a small town outside what is now Specularum in Karameikos some 150 years ago. The seventh child of a poor family he was eventually forced to leave his home at the age of eleven and find a trade in the big city. Even then Specularum was a large and busy trading centre. The market was busy and it was easy for a young, brave and nimble boy to keep himself alive by stealing the odd loaf here, a few apples from a stall or a string of sausages from behind the back of a butcher. He became more and more adept as time went on. Moving from stealing to survive, he started to steal to improve his lot. A merchants pouch, a gem encrusted ring, a cleric's holy symbol, all fell into Beluz's hands. Eventually his actions attracted the attention of the guild and he was dragged in to be questioned by the Guildmaster. Some factions within the guild wanted him killed but the Guildmaster saw potential in Beluz and enrolled him in the guild. It was a wise decision as the young Beluz brought much wealth to the guild over the next twenty years. Picking pockets and slitting pouches was his forte but he also excelled in breaking into supposedly impregnable buildings. Eventually he out reached himself when he stole from the tower of Pressimion the Necromancer. Unbeknownst to him Pressimion had had a vision that Beluz would steal from him that night and had cursed the item that he saw Beluz stealing. True to the vision Beluz entered the tower and took the Bowl Of Seeing that Pressimion had just completed. Within hours of returning to the Guildhouse Beluz was dead, his body a mummified husk and his spirit a spectre that would forever guard the tower of Pressimion from attacks. The guild hacked up the body and dumped it in the river but two thieves took Beluz's hands as charms. It is said that they improved the wearer's skill at pickpocketing and picking locks when worn around the neck. It is also said that each time the bearer fails in one of the above tasks the spectre of Beluz appears and attacks the wearer.
The Holy Symbol Of Charnak The Vampire Hunter
Charnak was born in the Hardanger Mountains between Ylarum and the Soderfjord Jarldoms. He was brought up as a foundling by the monks of the temple of Ixion after he was left by his parents on their doorstep when only a few days old. This area, part of the ancient Nithian empire was plagued by attacks from evil undead. Armies of skeletons lead by vampires and mummies. Ancient graveyards bursting and spilling forth zombies. Tombs guarded by wights and wraiths. It was not surprising therefore that when Charnak became old enough he became a cleric of Ixion and joined the fight against the undead hordes. He had a particular dislike for vampires as they often concealed themselves as normal people, often village elders or rich merchents and so wielded great power over others. He became well known throughtout the reagion as Charnak Vampire Hunter and people often travelled many miles to tell him where suspected vampires dwelt. Often they were malicious tales dreamt up by jealous lovers or business rivals and he would then report the lies to the local mayor. When the reports were true he would hunt the vampire mercilously until both the creature was dead and any resting places despoiled. Charnak often faced large numbers of undead and as such the holy symbol of his mentor was frequently in his hand and in use. Smoothed by years of wear it became imbued with part of Charnak's essence. When eventually Charnak died of old age his body and all his possessions were burned with his body, his symbol was preserved and given to members of the order when they went or particularly perilous missions. On one of these missions the whole cadre was destroyed and the symbol was lost. The order dispaired and the monastry fell into ruin and decay. It is now said that evil undead roam the once sacred halls and only a cleric, true of faith and brave of heart bearing Charnak's holy symbol will drive them out.
Delamear Silverhands And The Immortal's Bow
Born in the heart of Alfheim three centuries ago Delamear Silverhand was destined for greatness. On the night of his birth a new star blazed in the heavens and blazed brightly for the next thirteen days. Growing up in the depths of the forest he saw no humans or dwarves until his 52nd year. He knew of them of course, his tutors had taught him the histories of the races. He found the stocky, gruff dwarves and the tall sturdy humans fascinating and soon left the quiet of the forest to adventure with his new friends. His prowess with the bow and sword as well as his spellcasting made him a valuable asset within the party of brave adventurers and together they destroyed evil, raided deep, dark dungeons and freed prisoners from despotic rulers. On the night of his 65th birthday he had a vision of Calitha Starbrow the elven immortal bound in chains of darkness deep within the heart if a firey mountain. Delamear and his adventuring friends donned their armour and ventured deep into the northern mountains of Brun. After battles with balrogs and hideous creations of the night Delamear came alone to the cave where Calitha was bound. Devoid of all weapons, his armour in shreads he took the chains in his bare hands and tore them from the wall. The explosion of power burnt away his hands and he passed out. When he came to he was back in Alfheim with Calitha bending over him, bathing Delamear in soft golden light. "For your bravery Delamear I have crafted these hands of silver which will give you power beyond mortal's ken, and this bow that will fire arrows forever straight and true." With that the immortal kissed the elf on the forehead and dissapeared.
Delamear adventured very infrequently after that, only venturing from the forest when the need was very great and he used his gifts only sparingly. He died on the eve of his 111th birthday while fighting an orc horde on the border between The Broken Lands and Glantri. His body was sent away on a boat down the Fen River to the falls of Dunvegan and nothing was seen of him or his gifts ever again. Tales tell that the body was taken up by Calitha and the new star that had greeted his birth blazed anew in the heavens. Other legends speak of a cave at the foot of the falls that can only be entered on Delamear's birthday when the moons and his star are in alignment.
Elmore d'Travelaine's Tower Of Wisdom
Elmore d'Travelain was a Glantrian mage born a century and a half ago. During his long life, he lived to be nearly 100 years old, he travelled through much of the known world and even beyond. On his travels he collected books and parchments, scrolls and hearsay, pictures and poems. All these were either stored back at his tower in the Glantrian mountains near the Darokinian border or written in books that he kept with him. It is said that towards the end of his life he needed a cart just to carry his spellbooks about in. He returned home to his tower to die, in a room lined with book shelves that held his scrolls and books. His last wish was that his servants should welcome any travellers into his tower so that they may share the knowledge that he had built up over the years. Sadly his fellow mages didn't see things the same way. They came singly or in small groups and tried to steal away the secrets that Elmore had built up. His servants, themselves mages of note tried to hold back the hordes but when they saw that the task was too great activated a powerful artefact that caused the tower to wink out of existence. Some of Elmore's students were left behind and a few managed to avoid the rampaging and now very angry mages. They now travel the world trying to find the tower and also collect information to add to its vast library if they ever find it. As they themselves age they seek out those of a like mind to aid them in their search. Rumours of the tower's reappearance have come form as far afield as the Five Shires and the Isle Of Dread. Some of Prince Haldamar's crew of the Princess Ark even reported seeing a strange tower during their adventures in the Hollow World.
The Dwarven Tunnels Of Fah Carrak
The Wyrmsteeth Mountains of Northern Brun are high and steep. Storms rage constantly upon their peaks and snow lies deep in the valleys. On the steepest slopes of these mountains those with a keen eye may spot narrow steps winding up the rock face. The steps seem to end without leading anywhere. Indeed those that have climbed the steps find nothing but a bare rockface at their head of the stairs. Legend has it that these stairs lead to the famous Tunnels Of Fah Carrak, the dwarven El Dorado. Within the mountains vast seams of gold, gems and even mithril abounded. The dwarves who lived there mined only a little each year so as not to raise the suspician of other clans. The dwarves were amongst the richest in the Known World. They lived a luxurious life below the harsh peaks and rarely traveled beyond the boundries of their realms. But years passed and even the vast veins began to run out. They delved deeper and deeper until they breached a boundry into a different realm. A realm of daemons and powers that the dwarves could not control or resist. The first to find the realm where controled by the deamons and used against their fellow dwarves. A few fought on for a while then realised that their cause was lost. The most powerful clerics amongst them and the best craftsmen retreated to the stairs collapsing tunnels on their way before binding the doors to the outside world with spells. They then retreated south and joined their fellow dwarves in Rockhome, never once telling of the horrors they witnessed. Some how the stories did get out and occasionally a brave adventurer will travel into the far north to seek the stairs and try the doors. So far no-one has opened them. What would they find inside if they did? The last few remenants of the fabulous wealth the dwarves had accumulated? Wonderful artefacts of long lost craftsmen? A hidden clan of dwarves grateful for being rescued? Or a host of daemons ready to ravage the world?
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