Kazmehr's Lament

I met Kazmehr for the first time in the Lycaeum. I had traveled there for personal research when I discovered a man unlike the typical sages which frequent the repository. I watched him as he poured over tome after tome. I had seen travelers come here before, but none had the darkness looming about them that this individual had. Eventually my interest was piqued enough to walk over and talk to him. I approached him and he greeted me with dark eyes staring out between thick black strands of greasy hair.

"What do you want?" He said to me.

"You're unlike many of the sages that frequent these old halls. What brings you here?" I said, seeing now that I was close that I was many years his senior.

"I don't see it as any of your business." He replied, pushing a few strands out of his face. I could see now his amber colored eyes, which burned like the core of the sun.

Before I responded, I noticed the tomes he was reading. Upon the page was the illustration of an ancient balrog, a demon of the elder days. "Not the lightest of reading, young man."

Kazmehr nodded. "Are you familiar with this subject?"

"Only with the legends that circulate through the towns." I lied.

"Then what good are you?" He returned to his reading. I saw that I wasn't going to get anything from him and left. But this was not the last time I saw the man. Every day I returned I saw him, and the stacks of books around him grew.

Eventually I gained his trust, and this was the story he told me: I was once a farmer, living in peace with my wife and child, in a village north of Britain. We were a peaceful people, not knowing or caring much for the outside world. But like many who keep themselves sheltered, the world eventually finds them. Orcs and other beasts came down from the hills and began burning villages. Soon they would reach ours. We petitioned for aid from the Britanian soldiers, but they were busy with problems of their own. In the twilight of my family's last hours, I went into the fields and prayed for aid. I had never prayed before, and I did not expect an answer, to be truthful. But an answer I received, though it was not what I had expected.

As I knelt in the black earth, I heard a voice as dark as the soil around me. "I hear your prayers." The voice said. "Who are you?" I replied as I strained my eyes through the darkness to see a creature blacker than the night. The creature seemed as a void, absorbing the moonlight into its features. Only two things were certain, it was the size of a giant, and its eyes glowed a menacing red. "I have the power, the power to grant your wish. If you agree to my terms, I can save your family." In the distance I could almost hear the sound of slavering orcs burning and pillaging. The weight of panic and fear filled my bosom; I panicked and agreed. "Whatever can save my family." The creature growled a terrible laugh. "As you wish." He said. I immediately felt I had made a mistake, regretting my decision, but soon I felt power flow through me. I had never dreamed of feeling such power. I felt as if I could pull the plow myself with power greater than my own horse.

A large band of orcs reached my village. I stood before them defiantly and heard their guttural slurs mocking me and laughing at me. They charged and in that moment I felt the very fires of hell leap out from my being, engulfing the marauding orcs. When the fires left, there were only smoldering heaps. But the fire still roared within my veins. My life had changed after that moment. Stories of sorcerous powers protecting my village kept the rest of the marauders from invading. I could not control the powers I had unleashed within me. I burned my home; I had become the marauder I had bargained to protect against. After the blood lust had passed and the fires subsided I regained my mind and stood before the charred remains of my own home. I saw my wife and child dead, burned by my very hands. Furthermore, I could no longer feel the power in my veins. I had been abandoned. Again, the dark laugh crawled over my skin and I saw the black demon standing behind me. "You have done well!" The creature bellowed. "Well!? I have killed my family! You have tricked me!"

"Tricked you? Nay, young farmer, I have done what you wanted. You stopped the orcs from invading." He laughed. "No, I have killed my family. I wanted to protect my family! I have killed them." "And that is my fault?" The demon roared. "Ah, but I tire of arguing. It is true, I have tricked you, and done so for my own amusement. You sought to protect your family, and became their truest threat. Live now, forever in your guilt, young human." The beast laughed and dissipated like mist in the wind. Black smoke like tendrils drifted in the wind until they receded into nothing.

I left my home that day, and did not return for many years. I made the resolve to find the creature that tricked me and exact my revenge. I noticed that the power he had given me, though it had waned severely, still flowed in my veins. I had the gift of magic. And that is why I am here in Moonglow. I am training and studying for the day when I find this black demon again. When I do, I will be ready.

-

I left Kazmehr that day alone, the weight of his story pressing upon my soul a guilt I had not felt in some time. I understood now the reason for the fire in his eyes.

Scheherazade Goes Home

I had been doing more jobs for Gryfflet. I made more money, and found more and more the opportunities available to me in the city of Britain. I was able to buy food and buy clothing. Life was becoming more comfortable. I had become my own woman and was making my own way. Because of all his extra time gained by my services, deliveries mainly, he was free to cut more lumber. One day, after a lumber cutting session, I watch over his pack llamas, he told me that I was free to do what I wanted this weekend. I felt that I had come so far that it was time to go home and show my family what I had become. I dressed in my travelling clothes and set out.

The road was more dangerous than I remember. Of course, last time I left from Trinsic, I traveled in a caravan, with what little money I did take from home. Strange creatures roamed the land. Rat men, orcs (of which I had only heard about in my youth), ogres, and a strange beast with many eyes. The many eyed beast caught sight of me, and began casting its wicked spells. I had never seen such a beast but for in the darkest of my nightmares. My first instinct was to run. Then from out of trees, a hideous troll roared forth swinging an uprooted tree branch. It had flanked me, and it was only by my reflexes that I escaped death by being crushed. The eye-creature had poisoned me, and weakened me with wicked magic. Running through the woods with my stomach vaulting over unseen obstacles, it was all I could do to push my legs every step, feeling the sorcerous weakness freezing my body. But I got away and hid quickly.

Soon the creatures gave up pursuit, and being out of range of that nightmare beast, its powers wore quickly off. I turned around and was amazed at what I was seeing. It was a shrine. My father took me to this shrine once when I was a child. "Spirituality," he said "is the exercise of the spirit. Just as the body must be exerted to grow strong, so to must the spirit be exerted."

"How do you exert a spirit?" I asked him. "By every good act you do, and by every new piece of knowledge and wisdom you gain, you exercise your

spirit. And just as a body suffers from contaminants, so too does the spirit. Every evil act darkens you." He spoke to me in his native tongue.

I continued on until I reached the gates of Trinsic. The city seemed quieter than last I was here. Those I saw on the streets seemed so somber. I moved as quickly as I could back to my home. My stomach knotted as I reached my home street. I slowly walked the path, counting each step. Why was I so nervous? They were just my family. I walked up the steps to the door and lifted my hand to knock, but waited. What if my father thought my meager earnings as a lumberjack's

lackey was a disgrace to everything he had brought me up to believe? It didn't matter. This was the life I had chosen. I knocked. And then, unexpectedly, I waited.

There was no answer. I knocked again, and again. Finally I tried opening the door and it swung wide to reveal a bare room. "Mom, dad?" It was not just this room, but every room. The house was barren, as if no one had lived there. There was no dust, and not stains. The home was like new. Where were

they?

Scheherazade

I am but a humble storyteller. I hail from the city of Trinsic, the city on this continent that most closely resembles my home. I was born here, but my parents along with others of our kind, came on a ship fleeing political strife.

My family, and some of the others, still loved their culture. They raised me based on the 'Old World' rules. They gave me an 'Old World' name. And they gave me 'Old World' values.

But these stories, the stories I'm going to tell, are not about me. You may call me Ali.

Scheherazade

I came from a wealthy family, but my parents saw no reason to

give me an easy life. They believed that their wealth came from their hardships, and that

if I were to make it in this world, I too must suffer hardships. (It is Ali. It is worth noting that Schera, my pet name for this young lady, lived in Trinsic just as I do. She did not take to the 'Old World' ways, but

fell in love with the culture of Britannia) I was eager to escape the rigid traditions of my father and mother, and so I made my way north to the capital. There I tried to find my way. I had little money, and spent most of it in setting myself up with a place to live. I had to take to thievery to get food. Fortune smiled upon me that when I was finally caught, it was by a merciful soul. His name was Gryfflet. He saw me as a young woman in need and told me that he had work for me. "If you want to make an honest living," he said, "I can help you." He was a lumberjack, and paid me to do deliveries for him. After a few deliveries, I managed to make enough money to buy some equipment, equipment that could put my training in swordplay to use (The aristocracy of Trinsic trained all their children in the noble art of fencing, in the hopes that their children would bring honor to their families through various tournaments. Schera was trained in it, but she had little interest in bringing honor to her family at all, let alone through swordplay).

Gryfflet gave me a job to travel to Moonglow, to deliver to a man named Kazmehr. I recognized the name, not because I had heard it, but because it had the distinct ring of my culture. I traveled to Moonglow and met this man. He was tall, dark, and reserved. I, for the first time, felt fear of a man. Not that I worried for my safety, but something different. Kazmehr spoke with a gentle voice, but there was something, something that was not spoken but seen within his blue eyes. It was this, I realize now, that scared me. Kazmehr noticed my blade, and asked if I would be interested in sparring. I agreed, though I'm not sure why. We traveled to his home. He handed me a robe. "Change into this," he said, "you don't want to get your clothing dirty." I walked into the room and Kazmehr was on me as quickly as a cat upon its prey. We danced about the room, the sounds of our blades clashing providing the music to this deadly waltz. His style was different than mine. He swung heavier, less precise, but deadlier. His strength was impressive, though I was faster. I was having difficulty getting away from his strength. My training had never prepared me for someone who fought like this. My memory quickly flashed to scenes of my father yelling at me when I made a mistake. Telling me that my errors brought shame to all of our family.

I felt rage well up within me, found an opening, and overtook Kazmehr. I held my blade to his throat, my chest heaving with anger and passion. He nodded. "I was wondering when you were going to begin trying." I smiled and let him go, trying desperately to keep my pains within. As I turned around I noticed an altar in the middle of the room, with dark stains upon it.

"What is that for?" I asked. "Maybe another time." The dark man replied.

He walked to the window and stared out to sea. It was then I noticed the waves crashing upon the cliff side in a soothing rhythm, muffled by the windows. I walked over and stood

next to him, staring out. "I should get going," I said, after some silence. "By the time I reach Britain, it will be nightfall." Kazmehr nodded. I left his home strangely disappointed.