The Bumblebee's Voyage

The following is an excerpt from the book The Bumblebee's Voyage, a collection of folk tales and information about a famous pirate ship that sailed the seas in the early Second Age. This short passage mentions the crew's fabled heist of a wealthy Restan noble's coastal estate, and the actions of the Bumblebee's Captain, Melina, who went down in history as a folk hero for all who oppose the rich and powerful. 

***

There are several contradicting accounts of the Solan Dunes Heist recorded from the years following the event. It was not entirely unexpected for many people to falsely claim they had seen such a momentous happening firsthand, but it has also been speculated that the family of Edric Blackstone and other local nobility deliberately fabricated and dispersed rumors in order to discredit the rather embarrassing narrative that had taken hold among the populace. Considering the subsequent crackdown by the authorities on commoners that were heard perpetuating this particular narrative, this speculation is not without merit. 

Despite these attempts to keep the tale quiet or, at the very least, destroy its credibility, this narrative is the one that persisted and eventually grew into the legend we recall today. The acts of Captain Melina and her crew at Solan Dunes have since been immortalized in song, poetry, and visual art. One of the most well known and succinct versions of the tale is a song heard often in seedy taverns or on the deck of a ship, but is rarely received well when sung amongst polite company and nobility in particular.

There was a Blackstone by the sea

Who robbed his peasants dry,

He laughed at their most desperate pleas,

From 'hind his walls so high

This Blackstone had no greater love

Than comfort, wine, and gold,

His wife, as lovely as a dove

Grew ever far and cold

Come, Come!  Melina comes to give the lout his due!

Come, Come! Melina! If you're rich she'll come for you!

The sky above the Dunes grew black

The Blackstone's fate was sure

From 'neath the Dunes, the Bees attacked

Right through the cellar door

The Bees had been bequeathed the key

By Blackstone's lovely wife

Who found Melina's honey sweeter

Than her Blackstone's life

Come, Come! Melina comes to give the lout his due!

Come, Come! Melina! If you're rich, your wife she'll screw!

Adventures in Comalan: The Zoo of Bion

Western Galeon, in contrast to the east, is known primarily for the vast stretches of unsullied land that lie between its few large settlements. The Galean people hold nature in high regard, but respectful travelers are encouraged to spend time appreciating the land's natural beauty, and can often find the locals to be very helpful when one seeks advice on places one should explore, and those one should avoid. Western Galeans often advise foreigners to use caution when traveling the expanse of chaparral between Abuk and Gienah. Queries about this are generally met with a smile and a response akin to, "The monorail route that curves through the desert is far more pleasant", as if everyone had agreed to just not speak of it. For a nation that so values knowledge and transparency, the culture of silence surrounding this place can be quite the mystery, at least until one understands the full story of what lies there. 

The Zoo of Bion, as the stretch is sometimes called if one is willing to pry, is a place that Galeans from the region are taught of at a very particular age; when they are old enough to understand the intended moral of the story, but young enough to absorb the lesson in a way that will shape their future development. When one asks why this story is not shared with those not of the region, the answer one will often receive is, "To avoid planting a seed of temptation". Seemingly, the reason that this particular site continues to be shrouded in secrecy is that knowledge of whatever lies there could, contrary to much of what Galeans believe with regards to the spread of knowledge and transparency, cause a particular atrocity to occur again, rather than be avoided. 

Of course, despite this secrecy, there are always those willing to explore areas they are cautioned against venturing into. A university student from Fides points to a well-poked at map of the country pinned to his wall, which shows the increased prevalence of a particular kind of report in the settlements surrounding the Zoo of Bion. A sighting of odd creatures that have the head of a lion and the body of a massive serpent,, which travel in packs. An attack by a monster that looked like a massive scorpion, but with as many legs as a centipede. A mysterious woman who wanders through the edge of a settlement, and when someone approaches, she turns and shows that she bears the face of a hairless mole. The reports go back as far as there have been reports, he says. He recalls a friend of his who sent him a correspondence while exploring the area. 

I reached the midpoint between Abuk and Gienah today, and set up camp. There's a dim glow in the distance, but it's too close to be from Gienah. Going to check it out tomorrow.

He claims this is the final letter he ever received from his friend, and that the boy never returned from his venture into the Zoo. He also claims that reports he made to the relevant forces in Galeon and to the council fell on deaf ears. This could not be confirmed, however, as they claim they never received such a report in the first place. 

The Day of Tranquility

Every year, sometime in the opening week of the month of Amora, flocks of doves can be seen flying over Resta, particularly close to its three borders. The best place to see these birds is from the Towers of Tranquility, which are garrisoned by some of Resta's finest soldiers at the start of every year. The sight of these doves signals the Day of Tranquility, a Restan national holiday which forbids any aggression. The only exceptions to this tradition are the Honor Guard in these Towers, who carry the duty of protecting Resta from anyone who would abuse this holiday's call for nonviolence. From the towers of Lakewatch, Highland, and Northcoast, the honor guard is positioned to squash any violation of this annual rite whether they come from across or within their borders.

The spirit of this national observance is arguably both Chaotic and Serene, but the actual events that inspired it have fallen by the wayside in the eyes of history. But ask any of the most informed followers of The Doctrine of Shadows and they will tell you of the first human to openly worship Serenity. Her name was Abigail Marle and she was a child living in western Necros in the dawn of the Second Age. With the border to elven lands so close by, she met many elves who would cheerfully profess their love of Serenity to her. Over time, these discussions began to inspire and influence her own view of the world. At the time, Serenity was seen as an elven god and her devotion to the Doctrine of Tranquility an act of heresy against her own creators. Because of this, Abigail suffered deeply for her beliefs at the hands of her eastland peers. Despite this, she held firmly to these beliefs in the face of ridicule and disdain until she was of an age to travel. At the age of 16, she set out for Terris in the hope of finding religious fellowship among the elves.

But her hopes were dashed before she could even cross the border. As she began to circle Lake Whitetree, she came across a band of elven wanderers. Driven to desperation by Serenity's recent retribution, the elves mugged her and left her for dead near the lake. She survived this beating, bruised and dejected. Once she limped back to civilization, she heard a rumor pointing to another hope: a commune had formed in Eastern Coronos that advocated for the acceptance of the Serenity's Doctrine. Still hurting from her experience at Lake Whitetree, she set off for Coronos in earnest.

But when she found where this commune had been located, she found the place littered with horse tracks and the splintered debris of a devastated camp. She looked to the north and wept for the unfortunate seekers of peace who once lived here. Whether they were slaughtered, dragged into Pyris as slaves, or dragged back into Coronosian society, it all meant the same to her. The Doctrine of Tranquility had no place in this world. Utterly defeated, she decided to return home, but stopped in Foldo in time to hear one more inspiring rumor. In the south, the Council Republic of Eris had been overturned and its citizens were forming a nation of absolute freedom to replace it.

This was Abigail's longest journey yet, but for the hope of basking in the glow of Tranquility among friends, no destination was too far. So, she crossed all of modern-day Resta on foot in the hopes of reaching the newly instituted nation of Galeon. But as she entered Necros' southern highlands, she found her path buried in an impassable rockslide. It was at this point that she slumped to the ground and beat her fists against the road in frustration as she wept. She was content to wither away on the spot, but she was discovered by other travelers not long after she had fallen asleep, her face sticky with dried tears.

The travelers took her to their home village of Solan and nursed her back to health. These people, brave adventurers all, listened to her story in earnest and was moved by her pain. In her drive to see her beliefs validated, they saw strength worthy of any Chaotic and in her turmoil, they saw nothing but exhaustion. It was for this reason that these Chaotic adventurers took Abigail under their protection, promising that although they couldn't share her beliefs, she was entitled to her dream. As she traveled with this band, she was given safer opportunities to share the Doctrine of Tranquility with the people she met. It was through this advocacy and the support of her Chaotic friends that she was able to convince the Blackstone Monastery to adopt the Doctrine of Tranquility as one of its principles. As the lands of Necros and Coronos became one, this essentially endorsed Serene worship as one of the founding principles of Resta.

Shortly after the realization of this dream, Abigail was stricken with a sudden illness that claimed her life. She was buried in the Temple graveyard of her home village, which would eventually be redubbed Amora, the Sacred City of Serenity. But that was many years later, and at the time, her companions felt that she had not been honored enough. So they gathered as many people as possible among their acquaintances and the people Abigail had inspired to build three towers in her honor. These Towers of Tranquility were built in each of the three places that Abigail believed her dream to have died. Lake Whitetree, the place in which she was hurt by the elves she sought to join, was where Lakewatch Tower was built. They built Northcoast Tower on the ruins of the devastated Serene commune in northeastern Resta, and Highland Tower was erected by the road into Galeon with the very stones that blocked Abigail from crossing.

So began this yearly tradition of absolute tranquility, protected by the hands of brave warriors who sympathize with the long-forgotten desire of the first Serene cleric. The reflection of this sentiment with the feelings between Chaos and Serenity blesses this day with a powerful magic. Followers of Chaos who remain devoted to protecting the law of this holy day find themselves empowered with the strength to hold off dozens of people single-handed. Meanwhile, those who make it through the day in complete observance of this law are said to be more lucky in the spring season.

The Blessing of Nacre

The following is a passage from Galean folklorist Merav Shahar's tome Heronite Legends and Folktales, considered one of the most thoroughly researched works on Heronite fairy tales, customs, and superstitions. Here, she describes an interesting custom little known outside the Piers Lowlands.

As was discussed in previous chapters, the primary means of social mobility for those in the Heronite peasantry is through exemplary military service in allegiance to a Heronite Lord. One notable exception of this is a revered social custom known as the Blessing of Nacre, which occurs in the Piers Lowlands, the green northern region of Piers Territory.

According to the custom, certain feats of heroism, bravery, or kindness may deem an individual worthy to receive the Blessing from the Lowland Piers family. The Blessing itself is conferred in the form of a curious physical object; a large abalone shell carved with runes that bear a slight glow, betraying the presence of magic in the rare artifact. While the Blessing is, in itself, quite beautiful, whatever magic may lie inside it is of little consequence compared to the true boon of the Blessing of Nacre. Simply by bearing this shell, recipients are granted a life of great ease and reverence in their community, and will want for nothing as long as they remain in the Lowlands. While this boon can never be revoked, it may not be passed down to family members, and is always returned to the Lowland Piers family upon the recipient's demise. 

 In traveling the Lowlands, many residents are eager to recount tales of former recipients of the Blessing of Nacre, especially those who may have come from their community. In the coastal village of Sunfish Spit, a man named Tavish who lived over a century ago was granted a Blessing for rescuing the daughter of the then Lord Piers from a capsized boat, along with the entire crew. Few can remember the details, but the man's name is synonymous with bravery and heroism in Sunfish Spit, making it unusually common among the people there. In a small settlement at the base of Nacre Hill, a notable Pyromancer from the named Aodh once killed a large contingent of hostile blood mages, saving the town. In addition to a stone statue, Aodh received a Blessing of Nacre and spent his days traveling the Lowlands, reveling in the hospitality and respect that the shell granted him even with those who had not heard of his grand feat. It is said by some that the prevalence of red hair in the region is due to Aodh's influence and well-traveledness, but this is simply a rumor.

The origins of this practice are shrouded in mystery and long lost to time, even to the Lowland Piers family, who reign over the region. Despite this, records indicate that it has changed very little over the course of time, and is regarded with the same gravity as it has been for centuries past. Attempting to fabricate a Blessing is considered a grave offense in the Lowlands, and those who try risk social banishment, at best, and death, at worst. This seems to be very infrequent, however; not due to any risk of punishment, but rather because of the sanctity with which the community holds the Blessing of Nacre.

Adventures in Comalan: Kutan Village

In northwestern Heron, somewhere near where the Piers Highlands meet the Karn mountains, very old folktales have begun to resurface among the peasantry, prompted by tragic circumstances. One every two weeks, on average, coming to a total of twenty six men, have gone missing from the small border community. Families have become reluctant to allow their sons, brothers, and husbands to go hunting alone, or even to venture to the farthest reaches of their fields, for fear of losing their loved ones. After a loss of an entire scouting party, the town has been hesitant to make another effort. Elders speak of rumors passed between their great grandparents and grandparents, many recalling a particular name that has not been spoken in decades: Kutan Village. 

At a town meeting, an old woman recalled the story of Kutan Village, a cautionary tale told to her when she was a young girl who had tried to venture close to the mountains. If you go too close to the mountains, her mother told her, the men of Kutan will steal you, roast you on a spit, and eat you! The villagers failed to see the relevance of this anecdote, at least until other elders began to recall their own tales about the place called Kutan. It was a place of savages who love to kill, some said. There were stories about people who were taken a very long time ago, said others. One of the most thorough accounts came from a very old man, who seemed to recall more the more he spoke. He told of an unknown man who had wandered into the village from the mountains, covered in scars and burns, acquired over the course of years. The mountains near the village being as harsh and treacherous as they are, the people wondered where he could possibly have come from. The man was tight lipped and said little before leaving, but one phrase did resonate: We live and die only for the glory of Chaos.

Devout Chaos worship is widespread in Heron, and phrases honoring the god of war in a manner such as this are not absent from pulpits in Heronite churches. That being said, there have been extreme sects who have found society at large to be insufficiently observant in their daily lives, and have separated themselves. While the more visible of these sects are known for being highly austere, there have been very few throughout history who have been violent towards outsiders past the confines of their territories. 

Some in the border community have speculated that this Kutan Village could be one of these sects gone rogue, and that the man who had come from the mountains may have been from Kutan. After all, they say, it is clear from the tales that these disappearances have happened before, roughly a century ago. If the sect had existed in the past, it would explain those as well. Some devout Chaotics in the community object to this, claiming that Chaotics are not savage, and would have no reason to kidnap men who are busy toiling for their families. They claim that the disappearances must be the result of either a dangerous beast roaming the mountains, or perhaps dark magic, but even they seem to be haunted by the stories they've heard about Kutan Village. If the place does exist, what could they want with their men? To eat them? Kill them? Convert them? Most feel helpless to answer these questions, and lack the strength to try. Those who fear for their loved ones have started praying for a miracle, or even just some help.

The Crowmont Rose

The old story of the Crowmont Rose seems to follow with the widespread idea that the Crowmont family bears daughters that are the most radiantly beautiful in all of Heron. Even in modern times, this is a common conception - it isn't unusual to find the odd scoundrel in a tavern bragging about how he once bedded a Crowmont girl, or to see young women trying to emulate the style or appearance of the Crowmont daughters. 

In the legend, the Lord Crowmont’s seven daughters are known far and wide for their beauty and grace. They draw hundreds of suitors to the Estate from all across Heron, who all beg the Lord for the hand of the daughter of their choice. The Lord was exceedingly picky, believing his daughters deserved nothing less than perfection when it came to a potential husband, and believed almost every suitor he encountered to be entirely unworthy. He quickly grew tired of these suitors coming to his door to beg at his feet, reciting poetry beneath his balconies, and sending minstrels to serenade his daughters as they strolled through his garden. He had gone to great lengths to make sure that the estate was heavily guarded, but the suitors always found some way to slip past, and more importantly, the increased security had created a prison-like atmosphere that his daughters greatly disapproved of.

The Lord Crowmont knew that he had to do something to keep the unsuitable suitors away from the castle, while still keeping his daughters as happy as possible. The Lord, who prided himself on his beautiful garden, had an idea. He bred what would become known as the Crowmont Rose, a flower with thorns that were long, sharp, and covered in an oil that would leave anyone stung by it with a painful, itchy rash that would last for weeks, and blooms that were large and of the most brilliant scarlet that were beautiful enough, he hoped, to appease his daughters. He planted several bushes of the flower in a massive hedge that bordered the island that the castle rested upon, so that only suitors who met the Lord’s approval would be able to enter. 

Though the story is largely unverified, and nobody can say which past Lord Crowmont the story refers to, the Crowmont Rose hedge still stands today, bordering the small island that the main estate sits atop. The Crowmont Rose is the sigil of the Crowmont house, and is frequently used in the decor of the estate. Despite their beauty, these flowers are not generally given as gifts due to the nasty effect of their sting, as well as the hefty price one would need to pay to obtain them. One usage of these flowers that isn't commonly referred to outside of the Crowmont family is as an ingredient in some particularly deadly poisons. 

Galeon's Festival of Winter

While Galeans also celebrate Salica during the winter season, paralleling the Festival of Winter in Resta and Midania, they have a unique set of traditions and folklore that differ greatly from the well-known Restan holiday. 

As with the Restan Festival of Winter, Salica’s Festival in Galeon is a time of hot food and drink, festive decor, song, and general merriment. It is common to see colorfully costumed theatre productions occurring in town squares, or groups of revelers drinking and breaking into song. As Salica’s holiday it is, of course, a time to embrace one’s emotions and celebrate that which the goddess gave us. Most major cities in Galeon host large celebrations, but many trek to one particular place — Moon Lake in northern Galeon — which has the largest Salican population in the country. The main attraction of the Moon Lake festival is a spectacular play portraying the traditional folklore of the holiday, complete with beautiful displays of storm magic performed by the Salican clerics who live there.

The folklore behind the festival is of entirely Galean origin. Rather than remembering King Dolph, it celebrates one of the country’s most honored heroines. The story of Zan dates back centuries, and celebrations of her heroism and bravery can be traced back almost as far. 

The tale starts in the fertile piece of land that lies in the center of where the Galean River (known by Restans as the Clearwater) diverges — a town now known as Zaniah. Most denizens of this town worked hard to cultivate their crops for themselves, and for the cities down the river. The people lived fulfilling, happy lives, and the land and rivers were kind to them. That is, until it suddenly dried up.

The people lamented for the crops that would inevitably die, and the people who would not have enough food to eat, and sent scouts out to try and discover the cause of the sudden drought. The scouts did not return, but the people had no time to mourn, as the sky suddenly grew dark with smoke and soot, lit only by small embers that rapidly grew in number. A large beast of flame suddenly emerged from the cloud, setting ablaze several homes on the edge of the town. The people would soon learn that the beast had been summoned at the behest of a power-hungry warlord from Resta, come to claim control of the river and its supply lines into the rest of Galeon. 

Many tried to strike down the beast, and some even tried to sneak past in order to attack the man directly, but nobody was strong enough to defeat it. As the village continued to lose hope, a woman who had lost most of her family decided to try a different approach. Zan, a woman of the Salican faith who tended to an orchard of pomegranate trees, began approaching the camp. Tears streamed down her face, and the frail demeanor she moved with caused the beast to disregard her, as it did not see her as a threat. She reached the tent of the warlord, showing the guards the basket of pomegranates she carried, claiming they were a gift, and that she had come to personally inform the man that her town would be surrendering. The warlord found her pretty, and bid them to let her pass into his tent. 

Zan smiled coyly at the wicked man, setting down her basket and taking his hand, causing him to feel an inexplicable rush of affection and trust towards her. She bade him to come back to the village with her so that the people could make their offerings to him and swear their fealty. He felt the urge to believe her, and so he went, leading her safely past his guards and the flame beast. 

The people of the village finally looked upon the man who had taken their water and burned their homes, and this is when Zan let her true power be known. The storm mage harnessed the anger of her neighbors and struck the man with a powerful bolt of lightning, killing him instantly and sending his guards fleeing. The flame beast charged towards Zan and the villagers, but the woman then harnessed the sadness the people felt after losing their homes and people, causing a massive downpour that doused the beast and tore away the dam, restoring the river and saving the village. 

Galeans glean many messages from the story of Zan, the main one being that emotions are healthy and productive, and that even painful feelings can drive people to positive action. In remembrance of Zan and her actions, pomegranates and pomegranate confections are commonly eaten during the Festival of Salica. One archaic tradition that has been largely abandoned by modern Galeans held that anonymously gifting someone a bushel of pomegranates during the time of the festival was considered a curse upon the recipient and a sign that someone wished one ill-will. Nowadays, people will occasionally do this, but only in jest.

The Dala Weaver

This version of the traditional Heronite folk tale is as was told by Tir Apollo, Avatar of Crane, to the people of Setria.

***

"I'd better give you some background before I begin. Anyone who's ever been to Heron would know about the wreaths we hang - the intricate ones with the bright red leaves. The dala bush is sacred to the Heronites, as they see it as symbolic of the god Chaos. The wreaths woven from the dala bush are some of the only decor that Heronites use, but nothing else is really needed. Anyone who's seen them knows they can be damn spectacular. Dala weavers are respected for the time and work they put into weaving some of the most intricate designs.

Anyway, the fable of the dala weaver starts out with a girl who wandered into the forest and lost her way. Heron can be mighty cold no matter the time of year, and the girl knew that she would have to find somewhere to hide come nightfall. She found a hollow tree and crawled inside.

The girl would prolly had died from if it was just your average hollow tree. Lucky for her, it was home to a family of nymphs who took her in and cared for her, keeping her warm and feeding her well. The mountain nymphs in Heron are known for their hospitality. In addition to care, they gave her a gift. A dala wreath. The most intricate, well crafted wreath she had ever seen, something that only a magical creature like a nymph could have made.

It was enchanted. Not only was it intricate and beautiful, the images woven from the boughs moved. It helped the girl find her way home. She managed to find her way back to the village, safe and sound, and was eager to show her family the wreath.

When she arrived, her parents and siblings were happy to see her after being worried she was caught in the cold. She showed them the magical wreath, with its bright red dala leaves and intricate weavings that moved as she turned it. They asked her where she had gotten it. She told her family that she made it herself, and that was why she had disappeared for a night. She said she was busy working on it.

Her family was so proud of her. They couldn't wait to show their neighbors the amazing wreath their daughter had crafted with her very own hands, and soon word of it spread throughout the village. Many of the villagers were proud to know someone who was so blessed that she could create such a wreath, but there were some who were more skeptical. They asked her if she could, perhaps, make more so that they would know it was her who made it. And there were still others who wanted her to share her gift and make wreaths for all the villagers. The girl was worried at first. She didn't know what to do. But then, she got an idea.

She snuck out in the early morning, using the wreath to find her way back to the hollow tree. She set up a trap in front of it, intending to capture one of the kind sprites. Sure enough, she managed to catch one before making her way back home, hiding the cage in a large bundle of dala boughs.

The girl chained the sprite in her room, forcing her to make more enchanted wreaths, so she could prove to the villagers that she was telling the truth. And it worked. She continued to produce dala wreaths, news of her great gift earning her respect not only throughout her village, but the entire region. She earned great wealth and fame, but little did anybody know that she had not actually worked for it herself, but had exploited someone else.

Don't worry, it didn't last. After years of fooling people, the sprite decided that she had to break the woman's hold on her. Sprites are passive and kind beings, but she decided that the need was too great, and that she must fight back if she wanted to put a stop to things. She began working on a new wreath, this one unlike any of the others she had made.

The next morning, the sprite presented the new wreath to the woman. The woman took the wreath eagerly, sure that she would fetch a hefty price for it. But then something began to happen. The dala boughs began to move, but not as they did on the other wreaths. They began to reach out for the woman, coiling around her wrists tightly.

As the boughs gripped her, she felt her skin start to harden and grow darker until it matched the color of the dala bark. Her hair, once long and dark, turned bright red, turning to dala leaves. She was being pulled into the bough, her limbs shrinking and coiling into the intricate design.

They say that when people realized she was missing, they went inside her workroom and found nothing but an enchanted wreath. And that if one looked into the design, they could make out the form of a woman."

Talib's Arrow

Talib’s Arrow refers to a saga of tales about a legendary figure in Galean lore named Talib, who is said to have circumnavigated the world several times. The tales say that the man looked at the stars and pledged to follow a constellation (now also called Talib’s Arrow) to see where it would take him. Because of the tilt and rotation of the planet, Talib’s path was never exactly the same no matter how many times he followed the arrow. Modern scholars claim that the true saga includes over a thousand tales of Talib on his travels. Several regions of Galeon have their own tales about Talib, and the things that happened when he visited them. Many attempts have been made to compile all the tales into a single source, but none have been absolutely complete. 

One well-known tale in Talib's saga tells of an instance in which Talib and a traveling companion of his, a shaman from the isles across the southern ocean, were able to charm and outsmart a power-hungry Rasharan sorcerer who had the ability to bend others to his will. The sorcerer attempted to use his power to turn the people of Rashara into his adoring subjects with him as their King. Talib acts as the intellectual, rational influence in the story, while his companion acts as a moral and emotional foil to him as they combine their strengths to defeat the sorcerer. The story appeals to the egalitarian, anti-monarchic principles of many Galeans, and is often cited as a good example of how Cranite and Salican principles can compliment one another. 

Legend of Bear the Eversprite Hound

The animal life of Tanis is known for frequently falling into a ruthless black market of exotic beasts that spans throughout the world. Of these unfortunate creatures, there is no species that fears poaching more than the Eversprite Hound. These dogs, which resemble over-sized coyotes with thick fur, are native to the forests and known for spawning fey creatures known as eversprites in their stomachs. Since these fey ultimately transform into pups once they reach three years of age, eversprites were once considered the natural offspring of the hound until modern researchers discovered live-birthed pups resulting from natural breeding. 

In truth, eversprites have a symbiotic relationship with the canine that hosts them, in that each cluster of sprites seeks shelter inside the animal while using their magic to protect the animal from the magic of others. When stricken with a spell, the eversprites retreat into the dog with a trace of the magic that they were attacked with. Doing so causes their color to change to one that corresponds with the magic they absorbed and applies the same color to the dog's fur. In their new forms, both the hound and the sprites within develop a powerful resistance to the magic that was previously absorbed.

It is these qualities that make eversprites valuable to scientists and magic-users alike. Since an eversprite is only known to come into the world through the hound's body, the hounds are frequently targeted by poachers. Though the sprites can be vicious in protecting the animal, the dog itself lacks a natural sense of aggression. That was true of a certain eversprite hound that has come to be known as Bear, a dog who was large even for his breed. Given his unnatural strength and his propensity for flight when faced with danger, he managed to avoid capture after many attempts. 

But Bear's frequent escapes had consequences that he could never understand. As he eluded more and more seasoned poachers, he developed a reputation that only invited more to try to capture him. He gained the name Bear for the ursine silhouette he was said to cast to the hunters who trailed him to the darkest parts of the forest. His capture seemed like an inevitability by the time a group of hunters smuggled some creatures of their own to the Tanisian side of the border for the attempt that would finally succeed.

Bear was alerted to imminent danger on that faithful morning by the silent padding of several sets of feet. The sheer number of footfalls gave him a sense of being surrounded. He had only just decided on a direction in which to flee when he felt a set of fangs sink into his tail. He tried to escape, but he found himself trapped in the grip of a Restan ridgewolf. He stared meaningfully into the fellow canid's eyes for a moment before finding himself surrounded by three other wolves. No matter what Bear could have done, there was no way to escape the small pack. The poachers cautiously approached after the wolves had him surrounded, brandishing nets and snares. He could feel the eversprites fighting to spring from his mouth to defend him, but he held him back, knowing that he could not do anything to protect them this time.

The eversprites and their host were carted into Resta by their captors and put on display in Resta City. There he saw fear and cruelty in the eyes of every human who looked at him. This inspired Bear's first aggressive move. Learning from the ridgewolves who snared him, he began to bite into the bars of his cage. He nearly escaped from between the bent rods of steel that confined him before he was tranquilized. Fearing that he couldn't be trusted inside a large city, the poachers took him back on the road to the estate of a collector of exotic animals. 

But this expedition would spell doom for the poachers, whose caravan found their gruesome deaths at the hands of a roving band of maulans while traveling Flora Field. After the butchering of the humans who held him, Bear found himself trapped between these three of these fey monsters and the back of his cage. The maulans ripped out the bars, savagely savoring the prospect of devouring the traumatized hound. But once the bars were clear, the eversprites sprang from Bear's mouth for the first time that month and swarmed angrily around the maulans. The momentarily distraction allowed Bear to escape the cage into the flowers that surrounded the road.

What followed was Bear's final formative tragedy. In the confusion of the fight between fey, one of the eversprites found itself poisoned with the toxin that all maulans secrete in their spiked tails. As Bear ran away, the eversprites hid inside him once again, but this time, he felt himself sickened by their presence. He stopped in his tracks and coughed up the entire contents of his stomach. With this, his entire cluster of eversprites came out, dying in a pool of the acidic toxin, their skin tainted black. Desperate for water, Bear stumbled toward the pond located in the center of Flora Field. In the water, he saw his reflection, which showed that his fur had turned black; the final effects of his eversprites.

The maulans found Bear as he tried to drain the pool in his extreme thirst. He had no time to mourn the sprites that they killed, so he instead growled as the ridgewolves taught him and charged. He sank his teeth into the neck of the nearest creature, which he was fortunate to discover is a maulan's weak spot. But in his fury, he failed to notice that a second maulan had stabbed the nape of his neck with a tail spike. That should have been enough to kill anything else, but the eversprite magic seemed to have made him immune to the toxin. The confusion with what must have been their first failure to kill someone with their tails, gave them all the distraction they needed to fall to Bear's wrath. 

Leaving all of his tormentors behind, finally free, Bear stumbled aimlessly through the many types of flowers that inhabited this patch of the eastern prairies. He seemed ill without his eversprites, a condition which aroused the pity of the local floral sprites. They nursed him to health and were rewarded for their efforts with the hound's loyalty. To this day, Bear the black eversprite hound wanders through the home of the floral sprites, protecting its fey and plant life with a ferocity not seen in others of his species. He is particularly aggressive toward humans with just two exceptions.

Shamira's Comet

Long ago, Shamira’s Comet was charted and named by a Galean astronomer. The legend says that the astronomer fell in love with the comet’s namesake, Shamira, one of Galeon’s guardians, who devoted her life to protecting the people of Galeon from the forces of evil. The two are said to have met one night on Galeon’s northeastern hill, where the astronomer was studying the comet, and was saved by Shamira from a fearsome beast that was ravaging the countryside. The pair spent the night together on the hill, and pledged to meet in the same place every time the comet passed overhead, every three years. Their relationship continued for decades, until one night, as the comet passed overhead, Shamira did not come. The astronomer knew that she must have been killed while serving Galeon, and established what would become one of Galeon’s oldest and most prestigious observatories in her memory. 

A statue of Shamira stands on the grounds of the observatory, and the passing of the comet is celebrated with festivals held all across the region. This occurs once every three years, and it is customary on this date to spend time with the person or people you love the most, or to reveal any hidden romantic feelings as the comet passes by overhead.

The Story of Sura

A Heronite embroiderer's artistic rendering of the constellation Sura, similar to the interpretation used in the Karn Family Sigil.

The legend of Sura is one that is well known across all of Heron. It tells the story of a beautiful mountain nymph named Sura who fell in love with a human man, despite the disapproval of such a relationship by other magical creatures and her betrothal to an immortal sorcerer who lived in the stars. She was able to live with her human lover for many years while arousing little suspicion from her magical brethren, for even several human years would feel like little more than a blink of an eye to a magical creature blessed with immortality.

Unfortunately for the pair, the sorcerer, Runa, decided it was time for Sura to join him in the sky and become his wife. He stole her away to the stars above where she took her place beside him. However, when he discovered that she had loved a human man, and had even borne him a child, Runa killed her for committing such a taboo. It is said that wherever her blood fell upon the earth, a purple dianthus plant grew. Forever after, Runa was known as Runa the Wicked, and the flower was known as Sura’s dianthus. The two can still be observed in the sky, as the constellations Runa the Wicked and Sura, the latter being displayed on the Karn family crest.

It has been said that the child of Sura and her human lover was the first Karn, and that all the Karns after that were descended from that union. However, very few still believe that part of the legend.