An old man hobbles down the streets of Shroudane. As he makes his way to the city square, he drops his cane. A Sidar child of about five picks it up and hands it back to him. The child asks, “Are you going to tell a story today Master ‘Aqawati?”
The old man bends slighty with a little difficulty. He puts his hands on his knees and says, “Yes, gather your friends. I’ll start in five minutes.” He gingerly takes his cane, and continues to make his way down Shroudane’s streets towards the plaza. The old man greets everyone he walks past. Sidar, Hallowed, ‘Al, Luchuirp; they all greet him in turn as they would a very good friend, like a beloved grandfather even.
Master ‘Aqawati arrives at the storyteller’s corner. He wades through the sea of Sidar children sitting cross legged around a stool. There’s even a few adults there, and a bored Luchuirp soldier standing in the crowd barely reaching above the seated children. Noticing the cushion on the ground, the old man picks it up off the floor and dusts it off placing it back on the stool. The master storyteller sits on it, “Oof. I wish they’d put a chair out here. So, today I’m going to tell you about the early days. About how the great nation of the Empire of ‘Als was in ancient times. Settle down, now, and I’ll begin.” The murmuring in the crowd faded away, and two of the children near the front stopped poking each other, calling a truce so they could pay attention.
“Our ancestors were roaming tribes who wandered throughout this region. They were strong…proud, yet primitive. Little better than barbarians. Now, you have to remember the time period I’m talking about. This was not long after Mulcarn was slain. The ice had barely receded at all. There was no farming because the ground was too cold. These scattered tribes roamed, and warred with each other. War was their way of life. They found the slightest reasons for it. I remember hearing of one that was started over a fart! Yes, two of the tribes having spent many years fighting each other without getting anywhere finally got weary enough to consider peace. They came together at a great feast in the tribe of the Chief Tumbara. The chief of the other tribe, Blastos, sat across from him. Just as some of the women were carrying out a great roast, Blastos let out a great fart. The smell was so horrific…well, you can guess the rest. Either way our people aren’t actually descended from either of them since both of those tribes were wiped out by M’alef.
“I’m getting ahead of myself here. Where was I? Oh, yes. War was a way of life. There were all kinds of nasty creatures wandering the icy wastes. How many of you here were told growing up that if you let your vegetables get cold, the frostlings were going come and eat you? Well those frostlings were real. So were lizardmen, and giants, too. I learned of them from my father, who’s told me all of the tales he knows. Just as his father told him, and just as his father told him all the way back ‘til before these creatures were hunted to extinction. Back to M’alef. I tend to ramble so bear with me. His story is an interesting tale. Actually, it’s about how our great Lord M’alus united us into the dignified people we are today. M’alus and M’alef were brothers you see: M’alus the elder and M’alef the younger; both sons of a chief. Not just any chief, mind you, but the Warlord Mortesh. The Warlord was the most feared of all the wandering tribes of the land, for his tribe was the largest and therefore the strongest.
“Mortesh was smart, see? After he defeated a tribe in battle, he didn’t just steal the food and leave the rest to be, like most other tribes back then. His warriors would slaughter every last man in the tribe. However, the women and children were brought into the fold. The women were married off to whoever wanted them, and the children raised as members of the tribe. M’alus was one of those kids who ended up being adopted by Mortesh himself. I think it was because he was the only child who picked up a weapon and tried to fight back. Well, a child as brave as that could only be the son of a chief, and Mortesh took him for his own.
“M’alef was just a child himself at the time. He was jealous that he wasn’t enough for his father. Must not have liked having a new brother to compete with for things. Either way, time went by and the two brothers grew up. Mortesh died of old age (a rarity back then). There was then confusion over who would take up his mantle. Some said it should be M’alef because he was the rightful heir by blood. Others wanted M’alus because he was older and wiser. Before anything could be settled, M’alef snuck in to his brother’s tent in the middle of the night. I think it was a tent, they might have had straw huts by that time. Anyway, it was the middle of the night and M’alef killed him. You heard me right. He killed him in his sleep.
“M’alef the next morning laid claim to the right of rulership and led his tribe far away without even burying him. Must have been to yellow bellied to even face his brother’s corpse after what he did to him. Many years went by and M’alef became a cruel and heartless Warlord. So much so that many of the wandering tribes – while never actually united in the traditional sense – they all considered him to be their greatest enemy. M’alef didn’t continue his father’s policies. When he conquered a tribe and took their food & suplies, he made damn sure that every single person was dead. See, usually in those battles in those days the victors would just leave the women and children be, who would usually starve to death but at least they gave them a chance, see. Right, I’m rambling again.
“See, M’alef was hearing rumors about some great shaman who was bringing together the peoples. It wasn’t however through battle and such, though. It wasn’t even how Mortesh did it. It was said that this shaman was merciful, and never killed. All of our ancestors, warriors everyone of them joining up with a man who never killed! Imagine that. The rumors were that when a tribe met this shaman, they were so overcome by his greatness that they simply kneeled before him and pledged their loyalties. The strangest rumor of all was that all of those people who joined this mega-tribe were cooperating together to build something out of wood and stone called an ‘Al.
“It was this last one that ticked M’alef off the most, see? People didn’t build things back then. Temporarily they’d put up some tents, maybe even a hut out of straw. But wood? Back then there was no use for wood except to burn it for warmth; maybe to use as a club, too. I suspect that during the Age of Ice they may have built huts made of ice. Wouldn’t that be something? Ok, so M’alef set off with his warriors in tow to investigate this “‘Al.” What he found amazed him. It was a city! The first city some say; depends on who tells who it. I won’t say it’s the first city because I’ve heard tales of a great nation that lived before the Age of Ice. Yes, I heard of a time before the Ice. I know. Until I heard that one I thought the Age of Ice was first.
“Anyway, M’alef came across a city of many dwellings. In the center was the largest of all, made of stone with all kinds of strange runes engraved on it. Not a single one of the people stopped to talk to him. Most kept going about their business as if he and his weren’t even there. Bewildered, M’alef made his way to the stone building in the center. M’alef said, ‘May the evil shaman come forth and meet his end honorably!’ To his everlasting surprise, the shaman came forth. M’alus walked out of the stone building, very very old. Even older than me. Older than any being ever looked I heard. M’alus walked out and said, ‘I already have brother. What do you think of the Exalted City.’ By the way, in the old tongue ‘Al means Exalted City making us the Empire of Exalted Cities. Sounds nice, don’t it? Well, that’s why you folk should be glad that we’re here now. Did that Adam fellow ever hand out so much food to the people or tell you such good stories as we do? Anyway, back to the story. I want to tell you how it ends.
“Now, M’alef was rightly a little scared. Somehow his brother had come back from the dead. All he could mutter out was, ‘You’re dead.’ And M’alus said, ‘Yes I am. The gods though have different plans for me. The greatest of them told me to build an empire, so I am. I will only ask you once. Will you serve me as you rightfully should have, all those years ago?’ M’alef, without a single good bone in his body, said ‘Never,’ and he attacked him. Remember, M’alus was shaman, see, and its said that he unleashed the full might of his powers and M’alef was slain (for good, mind you), and his army kneeled before our great Lord Malus.
“He rules our great Empire to this very day. Though no one except the generals and other well to do claim to have seen him. Some skeptics say that he actually died and that the people Lord Malus sends out to represent him are actually the real rulers of the ‘Als. I don’t believe that hodgepodge one bit. Personally, I think that if you’ve lived as long as he had, you’d be so ugly that you wouldn’t want anyone to see you. That’s just my opinion anyway. Don’t tell any of the guards I said that,” he winked at the Luchuirp soldier. “So there’s the end of that tale. Don’t worry, settle down. I’ll be back tomorrow. For any of you who want another, I take requests so think hard about what your favorite stories are.”
The children dispersed, some playing and some heading home. The Luchuirp went back to his post. The other adults went back to going about their daily business. The old man slyly took the pillow under his arm and made his way carefully down the streets of Shroudane, enjoying the sights of the peaceful city on the way home.
.
