Caras'Val

Caras' Val

There was once a man named Whispered Truth who spent his life travelling the roads and waterways of the eastern threshold and visiting the many kingdoms that lay there. He was welcome in the halls of kings and gods alike for he was said to be the greatest entertainer of the age.

In Sijan he sang laments for the souls of the departed of such poignant sorrow that it reduced even the most jaded of onlookers to tears and the greatest of noble’s lavished wealth upon him in an attempt to procure him for their own deaths.

In the echoing stone halls of mighty Lookshy he strutted upon the stage performing forgotten plays from the fallen shogunate that extorted the military values of the legion for the pleasure of the general staff.

Standing atop the callers block in Nexus he recited ribald limericks for the pleasure of the mob that left guildsman and street urchin alike wracked with mirth and drew heavy censure from the council for effectively closing the market for the near an hour.

In the Haltan capital of Chanta he whispered sweet sonnets to the queen bringing forth the first stirrings of love in her young heart before he was hounded from the kingdom by some understandably irate noblemen.

But it was to Great Forks that the young entertainer travelled most frequently. There he would perform for the Spinner of Glorious Tales. The god and the human exchanging stories, fables and parables for days on end playing the roles of master and apprentice. Often they would only stop when the frail mortal collapsed from sleep deprivation.

In his time he wrote hundreds of plays, poems, stories, songs and compositions. His name was known throughout the threshold and even the dynasts of the realm sought out his work.

It is somewhat strange then that he is almost completely unknown in this day and age only a few short decades after his disappearance. His greatest works go unperformed existing now only as aging dust covered manuscripts lost amongst obscure private collections or strangely misfiled in libraries. Even those who once attended performances of his greatest recitals are unable to recall a single note of music. Those who considered him a close and personal friend can’t seem to remember his name or what he looked like.

But then such is the fate of all those who are chosen by the maidens and have their destiny fall within the house of the mask.

Such is the curse of the arcane fate.

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