This tale starts with Vestin, a powerful wizard and his three apprentices. Vestin was always seeking a way to control the weather. He hated the hot dry land he had been raised in and had traveled far to the north to get away from it. But even here in Thergon he could not escape the summers. He researched day in and day out but finally came to the conclusion that only much more powerful magic could control the weather. This is when he started exploring a darker source: summoning deamons and interrogating them about it. As he aged he became more and more reckless, summoning powerful deamons whose names best not be writ. One day a deamon offered him a solution. A horn that was said to have the power that Vestin required, the ability to make the weather warm. It is not clear what he promised, or traded the deamon for this item, but we can be sure that it was something of real importance to the fiend. Wise Vestin, expecting a trick, did not use it right away, but researched the sigils, and glyphs that covered the horn, and tried to deduce how it worked, and what it would do.

It was during this time he took ill. Being of an almost ancient age, his students aided him as best they could. He continued on doggedly trying to determine the use of this horn. One day he told his alcolytes it was all for naught, the horn would destroy the world if it was blown, and worse bring about an age of cold; he had been tricked! After this realization Vestin’s health rapidly declined. It was as if his will to live had left. He was bed ridden for quite some time, wasting away. His students stayed with him, and worked on ways to restore him. In the mean time they gave him every comfort they could. Including hanging the horn of cold on the wall in his room. Vespin’s eyes lit up whenever he looked at it, and any happiness they could offer was considered a kindness.

It was one of the darkest nights for those apprentice turned wizards, when they found their master, eyes glazed, and not breathing, dead. He was laying in bed but still fixedly staring at the horn hanging on the wall. They mourned him for 3 days, and nights tearing up the ground around the tower as was befitting their grief. But on the fourth day as they came to wrap him in linens white, they found something they never expected. Vestin’s body was black, and decaying at an unnatural rate, and worse burned into his wooden headboard were the words: “il garish tortuneno carmina” “I shall return for what is mine”, in the demonic tongue.

It was at this point that the three students, all now full wizards themselves, decided to destroy the horn, as it’s mere existence was a danger to all life. However, after two years of research, with only failed attempts, and increasing attacks on their tower, they decided it was beyond their powers to destroy it. They felt the safest thing to do would be to disassemble it and hide the pieces to protect all humanity. So the Shoulder Strap, the Mouth Piece, and the Bell were separated among the three wizards. They bid fond farewell to each other, for they knew it was the last they would see each other, forever.

Belkin The Pure went west with the mouthpiece; Trystain The Good took the bell to the east, and Tarfuno The Mighty took the Shoulder Strap to the south. This is the story of Belkin, The Wise.

Knowing he would be chased he fled for days without rest. He attempted magical means to hide his whereabouts and fought valiantly against foes much stronger then him, but finally when he could run no more he collapsed upon a Rising Sun. He woke to find himself in a small village where the kind-hearted town elders were caring for him. Immediately he tried to explain the danger that followed him without giving away the reason. They scoffed at him and explained he had been sleeping for a week and nothing had happened. During his recovery, he met Delania the young daughter of one of the elders. They became enamored with each other and when he was fully recovered and felt the need to move on so as not to endanger the village, the elders offered him amnesty for whatever he had done before. They said they would hide him, or lie for him or protect him if it came to that. He could not believe they understood what dangers he brought with him. He headstrong elders most likely did not believe his stories of deamons and evil magics. They were simple folk, and in a moment of weakness he agreed to stay. His love of Delania grew by the day, and within a year they were pledging their eternal love to each other in front of the elders, and the whole village.

Many years passed where peace, and prosperity reigned in the village. Belkin had given up his wizard ways fearing it might attract unwanted attention from the beings seeking him. He became a farmer, and was well liked in the village. All recognized his good spirit and noble soul. There was even talk of raising him to the elders circle despite his young age.

However, it was only a few months after Edmond son of Belkin celebrated his fourth name day when a terrible tragedy struck. Out of the night came beings forged from nightmares. Flaming eyes, and grotesque limbs portruding out from scaly, peeling skin they attacked anything that moved. Houses burned, people were torn to shreds, or worse. Most of the villagers were slaughtered, but Belkin escaped while some of the men rallied a defense. However, before he left, he cradled his dead wife’s body and shed tears like a new born babe. The only love of his life being dead, he fled to the near by hills.

He happened upon a cave there the hills by his village, where he watched as everything he had loved and known for the last several years was reduced to ash in a horrific orgy of destruction. Some say it was when his wife died, other say it was as he watched this deamonic event, but all agree he went mad that night. When morning came again, the Hellish night over, Belkin secured himself magically in his cave. He must have vowed never to have contact with humans again. As safety for himself or them no one really knows.

As the years passed and he lived on, in his little cave, he became known as the crazy hermit who lives in the hills. If the pain of his loss had not fractured his sanity, then surely the loneliness of solitude did. He didn’t have much contact with the outside world to and he kept his cave heavily warded for defense. There were often events that other villages in the surrounding areas could not explain in those hills. They became known as haunted, and dangerous hills. But sill, some people came to him seeking knowledge, some great power. Most did not know why he might be able to help them, and many did not get the help they expected. Others did not survive the journey.

Some say he still lives in those hills, though it would make him aged beyond belief. Many still say the hills are haunted in this region, but that doesn’t stop treasure hunters from looking. They will not find what Belkin swore to protect. This I know to be truth. Only the pure of heart can continue his vigilance.

These words are committed here by the hands of :

Dorvak son of Lehi son of Edmond son of Belkin.


Thergon NeonElf