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Purchased from Natalie the Scribe in Kryst - 74.5S, 84.9E Kryst has a long and rich
background that is rooted in hope. It was founded by Zenzaburou Hensu
after the tribulations of the Olthoi. During the Dark times, when all of
the children of Ispar were slaves made to toil under the heavy yoke of
Olthoi oppression, there truly was no hope of overcoming our taskmasters.
So, Zenzaburou Vanten the Archmage (note: then the Quick. How times
change...), and Vesayen Hylin gathered together to plan.
It was during these times
that the hope within our hearts was the most fragile. The Olthoi were
capable of anticipating the actions of any slave with crystalline clarity,
and had foiled many different escape attempts by coordinating their
movements as if guided by one mind. It seemed as if all the things that
Zenzaburou had talked about would never come to fruition when a strange
earthquake occurred. After the rocks had finished shifting, and the
tunnels had been flooded with dust, they decided to act. They quickly
organized the other slaves, guiding them away from their Olthoi
taskmasters under the cover of darkness.
Imagine if you will the
fear that we felt as we traveled. Olthoi nests are dark, and the walls
seem to be living. At any moment we could have seen the glowing red eyes
of our masters and been undone. There were in fact many slaves that were
simply to scared to move or talk, unless prodded by one of their masters.
Fear is a powerful tool.
We exited the nest through
one of the Rifts in space, and were greeted by the sun. For many of us,
this was a welcome reprieve. For some of us, like Vesayen's daughter
Sharon, this was the first time she had seen the sun on Dereth. The sight
was so beautiful to her, she cried for the first time since she had been
taken into captivity.
It seems that we were too
overconfident. Our former masters were quite unwilling to part with us
just yet, and pursued us out into the forest. Many of the younger children
fell behind. Their cries still haunt my sleep to this night. Those of us
that were hardy enough to press on managed to, regardless of how weak or
tired we were.
Fortunately, luck smiled on
us, for we happened to come across another Rift in space. Zenzaburou and
Vesayen ushered us through the portal, intent on staying until the last of
us had gone through the portal. I grabbed Sharon, pulling her away from
her father and into the swirling rift. That was to be the last time she
would ever see her father, and the last time she would ever cry, to my
knowledge.
Zenzaburou barely pulled
himself through the portal before it flickered and began to fade. His
clothes were bloodstained, and his knuckles were split and bruised. The
last of us, twenty in all, gathered are wits and assessed our
surroundings.
The terrain was like
nothing we had ever seen before, however the ominous chittering of Olthoi
was strangely absent. This lent us heart, and we pressed on into the woods
until we found a reasonably large clearing.
After time passed, we
founded the village of Kryst, in the knowledge that we may very well have
been the last bastion of Ispar left that was independent from the Olthoi
Horde. The jungle was not without its inherent dangers, and the savage
mosswarts and brutish predators succeeded in claiming some of our numbers
regardless of Zenzaburou and Vanten's best efforts. This lack of safety
resulted in some of the people leaving, for they felt they could ensure
their continued well being far more than Zenzaburou could. They have not
been heard from in some time, but there are those amongst us that still
believe they live, further in the Vesayen Isles.
Now, other Isparians have
come, revealing that the Olthoi no longer plague our kind. Instead, they
come bearing tales of Shadows that walk like men, and of slain hope. Only
time will reveal what we have missed.
Scribe Natalie, Elder of
Kryst |