[ry0un0suke]

Over the course of several months, a series printed in a hardcover book begins circulating places such as the Waystone Inn. Its title, Collection of Essharn Folklore, is a series the historian Indigo Lipovsky has been working on for several years. People from all over Esshar have been met with and asked to share their favorite piece of folklore or fairytale native to their region. If there are those with old stories indictive of their people's culture that they wish to share and have published, the historian can be met via letter. The following collection consists of two regional specific stories and two overall Essharn. The series will have a total of eight stories planned for the coming months. At the end, there are a few fiction stories written by the collection's author.

Collection of Essharn Folklore
Issue 01
 

by Indigo Lipovsky

1855AC

 

Culture breeds identity. People lead different lives as a result of their background. Being raised in one corner of a country versus the other shows drastic differences between people. In a country like Esshar, there's no central creed. No overall doctrine that all citizens follow. So, their differences will shine far clearer than in countries such as Barsburg or Aen. I've spent many summers gathering pockets of stories, folklore tales native to various Essharn regions such as Osrona, Moxtli, Garljing's Coat, and other stories simply originating from the country as a whole. One's stories, even simply bedtime stories one would tell their children, carries a weight unimaginable in terms of culture and it's preservation.

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The Last King 

Once upon a time, the Kingdom of Esshar was united under a monarchy. Kings and Queens whom their people raised their hands to for guidance, whom they bowed to in reverence. For centuries,  Esshar has been consolidated by their capital city of Osrona, where the monarchy has flourished and grown despite the disarray in surrounding regions. Unrest unfolds. Several corners of the country responded in outrage to the central control. They seek to part- From the mountains to the desert, the country tore into pieces. Evil influence came into play, unity seemed nigh impossible. Famines popped up in many village areas and surrounding farmland on the outskirts of major cities loyal to the crown. Matters only worsen when neighboring countries strike a Kingdom in shambles. Their King fell in a bloody battle against their machine-esque enemy, the Empire of Barsburg, Osrona grew wary of the direction they’ll head in. They had no idea that swaddled in his crib, Alexander rei Petrakis would be the last King of Esshar.

 

As he grew into a proper King, his rule was one golden. Though all was not pleasant in the Kingdom. King Alexander was a man who put duty and his people first. Rarely did he look after himself. So, when a beautiful woman came into his life, he did not expect that he needed to watch himself when he held a thorned rose. At some point, he’s pricked. Deceived as she grew thorns around his heart without him knowing wiser. Queen Nebula wove pretty lies to obtain power. Each utterance was successful. The golden age slowly corroded without anyone truly knowing. The lies and thorns came naught from a Queen but a witch. Osrona was shaken to its very core. Citizens grew fearful, many angry. This split the Kingdom when the witch draws royal blood, slaying a Petrakis Princess in all the chaos. As quickly as she weaseled into the kingdom and caused chaos, she was gone, destruction in her wake. The collapse hindered the Kingdom in their efforts against those who sought to overthrow the monarchy, the rivaling Kingdom of Myllenrois just across Esshar. The Teraphim marched upon the Kingdom’s walls after several successful push backs of Osronan forces. People look to their King yet he could not save them.

 

In a final battle when walls are broken down and fires scour the area, the leading figure of Myllenoris, High Lady Asta Hargrave nigh bests the King in battle. His kingdom will fall, every small victory will count towards something. Drawing upon every ounce of his strength, the cries of his people and their support at his back, he cleaves his sword through the High Lady, killing her in battle. Outrage erupted from the Teraphim. This only sparked deep seeded anger. Their leading general shouted: Kill them all. Was it worth it, in the end? A golden king severing the enemy’s leadership only for his people to be slaughtered like cattle as a result? The Kingdom collapses, many flee.

  

The last Essharn King could not defend his people.

 

Up the Mountainside

Once upon a time, the cold mountains housed a fierce warrior by the name of Thorgil. His renown became apparent after leading groups of men into the Shadowlands, a dangerous, eerie place that oft leaves troops returning with less men then they entered with and more corpses, if they were lucky to retrieve them. Beasts run rampant, the land falls victim to plagues. Those faint in the hearts aren’t encouraged to even think of going. 

 

Thorgil spent ten years exploring the wild, untamed lands.

 

Many of his men became ill or died. Yet he did not. His inner flame strengthened considerably. Confidence, power, and great leadership bled from him. At the end of it all, he was chosen as a sacrifice to the Red God. The Primordial Garljing. Entering the Red God’s lair, he could see the skeletial remains of those who dared enter. Their bones crushed beneath his feet as he entered, as though they were naught but dirt. Before him seemed to be an array of crimson shields glistening in the sunlight that poured through the cave’s mouth. When looked upon, His gaze teetered along viewing the human who entered as food or not.

 

Mere beasts in the Shadowlands made him feel small. The divine, however? 

 

Thorgil sat at the edge of the cavern where no men were permitted to enter. Without uttering a word, Garljing allowed him entry into his lair properly. Now there, he did not speak unless addressed first. The warrior busied himself with hunting. He even made an offering to kill an elf while keeping respectful distance. To Thorgil’s surprise, Garjling accepted the offering and conversation soon sparked between man and divine.

 

Garljing asked for the human’s name, he answered. He then allowed one question. Thorgil pondered for a moment. What should he ask the divine? The meaning of life? The true nature of the world they live in? He asked “What is good, and what is evil?”. The Red God laughed, causing the cavern to quake until it ceased.

 

“There is only desire and restraint. Selfishness is seen as sin, but this is wrong. It is your kind’s nature to want. The angels will tell you to be merciful, to be good. To shackle and limit yourself, when a man is only as great as his ambition.”

 

Words stick with Thorgil. They reverberate, echoing throughout his head. Without missing a beat, the Red God continued on, bestowing knowledge upon the warrior that will lay foundations for what his people believe in upon his return after several years. By his own violation, he wished to conclude his service and requested to return home to Theria. Garljing rejected the notion, telling him to pick up his axe and cleave his way out. They fought, man and divine. Man cannot home to defeat the divine thus he was defeated. 

 

Thorgil returned to Therian in a pose of prayer, hands in a tight fist at his heart, legs crossed. Flames bathed his flesh. Though rather than destroy flesh and bone, the flames change the man, bless him, if you will. He awoke anew, flesh adorned in scales, slitted pupils, a stronger, more durable body. He returned proudly with leathery wings that allowed him to soar along the clouds.

 

Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar

Once upon a time, something came into the world that did not belong. A greedy, evil family saw this as an opportunity. They’ll foster their strength and an abomination to expand. This little flake cultivated all the malice and destruction into the world arrived upon Esshar during a terrible part of its history: The Pandemonium Chase. Rather than use it on one of their own, the family kidnapped a young girl and welcomed her into their fold as the one to foster the destruction born from a place beyond Eternia’s borders. But, they had no idea what exactly they were bringing into the world.

 

With a soul and body, the energy has a place to grow. Like tending to a budding seed, they intended to grow this power through feeding it. Food, of course, will not suffice. Instead, she’s fed people, flesh and bone, soul and mana. Every ounce is consumed yet at a point, magi do not suffice. Whether it was the energy within or the girl’s own ambition, she sought to devour Eternia whole. The planet, the realm where spirits coexist and roam, the gods. Everything that can be reached and ever will be reached. One can think the young girl to be naught but a monster, an unfeeling creature with a singular girl. Many would think correctly until a bit of sunshine rained in. Another girl, one of around the same age not quite plagued with what affects the ‘Anomaly’ of a girl’s mere shell.

 

The curious girl is not consumed, despite curiosity oft leading to another’s downfall when they aren’t careful. She is. She seeks to understand what makes the Anomaly tick. Survivability cannot be the sole reasoning for such blind, mass consumption. Or is it? The Anomaly, consumed by paranoia likely embedded in her by her makers, she thought everyone was out to get her. It’s her or the world. Such reveals that the curious girl manages to bring that which should not be into her home village. She talked and talked and talked as what seemed to be death lurked around the corner. 

 

She pities the Anomaly. When people die, their souls return to the world through reincarnation. But one bearing but a body as a vassal and naught more? So, she journeys to the creator of Ookami, Asena, the opposite of the one who brought the Pandemonium Chase, Saekanis. Perhaps through pity of her own, Asena answers the calls of humanity to bestow judgement upon the Anomaly. Pity runs dry, however, as Eternia wished for the Anomaly not to exist. Asena comes to the same agreement. Thus, she’s sentenced to erasure.

 

However, Saekanis takes to the Anomaly’s defense. Asena conjured a radiating energy to blast the Anomaly from existence, yet Saekanis bears the burden of the blow. They do battle, disappearing, two sides of the same coin passing judgement onto that which should not be. Though, the consequences are unintended. More than ever, she surges with chaos, fueled by the powerful Primordial’s energy. Both do battle, curiosity and pity against senseless destruction. Even with the Primordial’s energy aiding her, she falls. 

 

Once more she will face judgement. 

 

The curious girl is left to decide. Side with what will eventually consume her, too, or her village. Wisely, she sides with the village, killing the Anomaly she wished to save. She’s been erased, as though she never existed in the first place.

 

Power at a Price

Once upon a time, in a prospering Kingdom along the coastline known as Morda, a young knight named Edward was but one shining armored man in a sea of many. Naught stood out about him. He stood at average height, looked like a normal man and had no real discerning qualities from an outside perspective. Few knew him personally, especially the one he wished to know him the best. Since being put on castle guard duty, he’s taken notice of the rather charming Princess, Elizabeth. Her voice could soothe any ailments, presence revitalizing downed spirits. However, she never looked his way once. He’s lacking something, surely. When out defending his people, he returns home groveling from his own weakness. Had he been faster, that boy wouldn’t have perished. Had he been stronger, he wouldn’t have been injured. 

 

While he pities himself in the midst of solo patrol along the city’s outskirts, a cloaked older woman makes an approach. She’s a basket full of jarred herbs, jarred insects, and an aura quite unsettling. “Disappointed, are you?” She asks from a distance. Where he stands, he can’t make out her face yet he sees the wrinkles of time on her flesh and a slight smile at her lips. “I can give you everything you seek at no cost of your oaths, knight.” She continues. Intrigued, a brow raises, he steps closer, gloved hand lingering at the hilt of his blade for cautionary reasons. “Power that will grow with every passing year. You only have to give me a piece of yourself.” The price she expresses though not explicitly. Through no sacrifice of his oaths and duty will he be able to better provide for them. The knight nods slowly against his better judgement. The hooded woman cackles. Knights should not make deals with witches but she lifts her boney hand, index finger nearly the knight’s forehead. When close, the nail swipes against the flesh, leaving a thin cut which draws trickles of blood. “Everything you seek is within your reach.” Grinning, the deal seals itself. Lifting his hand, his vision slightly shields as he pokes at his forehead. When lowered, the witch is nowhere in sight.

 

The deal was complete, no? He only notices when a year passes. He’s the strength of a dozen men, he can lift plenty in his own rank. In battle, no longer is he too slow to save innocents. He can cleave through the enemy ruthlessly, much like a demon. In battle, they all know his name, they know his face. Morda’s Demon, they called him as he gained titles and renown. Princess Elizabeth takes notice of him when he’s assigned to guard duty. Maids snicker to themselves about it. “It’s the Demon. You’d best run.” They giggle to themselves before straightening up when the Princess enters. They scurry away and she brings her attention to him.

 

How rude. He doesn’t look like a demon at all. Perhaps a prince, a more shabby looking one.

 

They grow close to each other and Princess Elizabeth asks him to come alongside her to lavish events. Their closeness leads to a relationship, one the Princess requests of him after he’s taken so long to ask it himself. Even so, in battle, he’s fearsome and ruthless, but with her? He’s very human, very soft beneath the blood stained armor.

After expeditions, he spoils her with his riches. He makes many promises to her- One accompanied with a ring tailored for the Queen to be, he’s earned it. He’s worthy and no longer a mere face in the crowd. A year passes by and his and the Kingdom's Queen adorns her wedding dress. The ring he bestowed to her the year prior slips onto her finger and they share a kiss.

 

The feeling is more shallow than he’d like to admit.

 

He never does. They have two beautiful daughters together and like his wife, they’re given gifts and riches. Spoiled rotten by their father, Morda’s Demon. Though as the years go by and his daughter’s grow and grow, the gifts lessen. He finds it easier to take on dangerous and long campaigns. Men are cut down without batting an eye. He falls into a routine so machine-like it’s easy to forget he’s a husband and father. Home is but a place to sleep and eat. Love no longer fills it nor his marriage. He starts to miss important events. Every birthday, every anniversary, every celebration. Yet he stands over what remains of his bloody, battered foes after each battle. Nothing but victories on the battlefield while failures loom at home. Despite feeling no true drive, he continues on the path he walks.

The Queen takes notice of this behavior. Her daughters sob their concerns of their father to her. Her husband grows in physical strength at a steady pace. With every summer, he’s stronger. With every summer, he’s colder. So, she scours the lands for answers. Every cranny and stone was overturned by her men. After a few weeks, one is approached by a dark hooded woman with wrinkly skin. 

 

Back at home, the knight is truly an automaton. He eats, sleeps, he offers no farewells to his wife or children. The most gruesome of campaigns are always taken and always won. The Queen sends her daughters away with other family members, those far warmer. Preparations in place, the witch is caught. “Ahahaha!” She cackles in her cell. Queen Elizabeth looks unamused yet so desperate at the same time. “Reversible, sure, sure! But only if he wants it of his own violation.” The witch reveals. How is a man bound only by duty supposed to give away what he’s been given to fulfil said duty? Yet he feels naught for the people he saves, the innocents rescued, children given salvation. Nothing.

 

Queen Elizabeth arranges for a meeting between her beloved and the witch. This will save her family, this will save her Kingdom. There’s no telling when strength defies duty and truly, the man turns into the demon the titles bestowed upon him. Yet when seeing the cloaked, older woman. Fury overtakes the knight. Without hesitation does he withdraw his blade. Too slow are the Queen’s guards to stop him. Rage and power are allowed into his heart. Beneath it all, he may regret what he’s done but too far is he to stop it. His blade cleaves off her head as though she were naught but a pig. The woman’s severed head rolls, the Queen screams out. With it, all the knowledge of curses and hexes. Gone. The deal remains and the Queen weeps. Her husband will never return. Her children’s father will never return. He escapes the Kingdom he swore to protect as only a powerful, demon-like husk.

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Short Stories by Indigo Lipovsky

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The Princess in the Tower

Yellow Hooded Girl

House of Bricks

Take Me to the Ball

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My name is Indigo Lipovsky, youngest daughter of head engineer Sacha Lipovsky of the wealthy industrial district Orvin. He specializes in the design of airships, both militaristic and pleasure/luxury usage. His designs have aided the Empire greatly. Through his success, I was able to secure a suitable education under the best private tutors to be offered. My mother, Lada Lipovsky, works within the Capital and is close with finances and budget. I’m in pursuit of certification for archives and historical documentation. Studies of Esshar and assessment of the colonial city-state began in the year 1848AC. Shortly after, in the year 1850AC, I began focusing on Essharn fo

The stories I've scribed were told to me by the following:

 

Angelo ven Pelleaux, Lightbringer

Zhrani Gardios, Ex-Stellus

Sibyl Cirque, Warchief

Doriya Helenium, Dragonlord

Rudey, Essharn Citizen

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Coming soon:

Angel Dust

The Sunken City

The Mad Queen’s Oppression

The Golden King's Curse