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Legends of Lore
Authored by Scribe Scribbles

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Introduction
This book is to be a collection, true as possible, of tales and legends common to Lore. One must remember that many of these have become exaggerated and broken over time, as is to be expected considering they have survived only by word of mouth until now. I feel I must take care to fully express that many of these, if not all, are likely not founded in truth. They are the stories told at Inns by weary adventurers late into the night. I do not encourage any to take it upon themselves to prove them right or wrong, I am simply making an account of them for I find these erratic, inconsistent myths to be incredibly interesting.

Alas, this is likely due wholly to my years of dealing with wandering merchants and youthful adventurers. Travellers are forever telling new fairy tales to tickle the ears of any who would hear them. These are their stories.

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Chapter 1
This Watery Grave

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Long ago, a race of aquatic elves dwelled deep beneath the waves of the sea. They flourished as a people and were ever a peaceful culture, living in harmony with the inhabitants of the water. Often, small groups would venture into the shore to trade with the local merchants. However, in recent years they seem to have stopped all above-water activies. It is not known why they have chosen to do so.

There are rumors now that their home, Tethys, exists no longer. I fear that some terrible evil has befallen them! We do have the technology to fabricate water-breathing potions, thanks to modern alchemy, but these are too expensive for the average adventurer to purchase. I can only hope that they are alright.

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Chapter 2
The Ancient Fountain

(The following is an account taken from a diary found in the waylain ruins of a town south of Doomwood, a place once known as Sil).

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As a boy, I often wandered into the woods to explore. The forest was brimming with adorable wildlife, and the wild berries were delicious! Oh how I loved to spend my youth gathering them.

As I grew older I became busy with the mundane tasks of daily life, and my visits to the forest became less and less frequent. I was hired by a guild which made accounts of various topographical anomalies, and I was tasked with charting the forest of 'Doomwood'. I had never heard of such a place, and eager for an adventure I gathered a team of seasoned mercenaries and we headed north.

The journey was a long one, but we did indeed come upon our destination. When we arrived, we stood aghast at the eerie silence. It was not a forest at all, but rather a rotting maze of trees that seemed to stare into your very heart and cause fear to well up inside even the bravest of men. Not a single one of my team would dare show it, but I knew they were afraid. So we set

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up camp for the night on the edge of the forest and decided to save exploring it for the following day.

All throughout the night, odd sounds could be heard. Surely these were not made by the local wildlife! I am certain that I did not sleep a wink that night, nor the others. When dawn was almost upon us, and the sun was creeping up slowly on the eastern horizon as I could see between the seams of my tent, all of a sudden a blood-curdling scream was let loose upon us! I ran to find the source of this terrible sound, knife in hand, but what I saw I could not believe. The entire camp was empty! Not a soul remained. The tents of my fellow travellers were torn to shreds, and I could make out claw marks, or so it seemed, on the ground near the tattered remains of our shelters and leading into the forest.

Someone, or something, had crept into the camp and stolen them into the night!

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I stood, mouth agape, trying to make sense of it all. I could feel my dagger fall from my hand, and heard the dull thud as it hit the ground by my boot. I was helpless, and abandoned. I was frozen with fear... Though the sun was slowly rising, our camp was engulfed in shadow. I scrambled to find my pack and began running west. I ran as fast as I could! But at once I heard a rattle behind me.. I did not turn around and kept sprinting for all I was worth. I could hear it getting closer, and I knew that whatever had taken my colleagues was now after me, and unarmed I had no hope in standing my ground. If this creature had defeated a small army of warriors, what hope did I have?

I ran and ran, all the while I could hear the incessant rattling forever on my heels! Suddenly, the rising sun illuminated a faint glint in the distance. I was approaching what appeared to be a fountain, in the centre of a large clearing. If there was a fountain, surely there would be a town or a village or someone

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who could help! In the gleaming light I sprinted towards it, tirelessly putting one foot in front of the other as can only be accomplished when powered by fear. As I came upon the fountain, my heart sank as I realized that it was alone. There was no town, no village. No one to help me. I was alone to face my enemy. With my last ounce of strength, I turned and readied to defend against my attacker.

But there was nothing there. Before me stood an empty field, on the edge of the forest. In exhaustion, I collapsed. When later I woke I spent hours trying to figure out what had happened. The creature had followed me all the way here, but fled when I came too close to the fountain. I named it Aone Fountain, after a mighty dragon. I fled soon after, but let this tale be a warning. Doomwood is a wretched place! Keep safe, and stay away.

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~Editor's Note~

Aone Fountain is located in Moonridge, a town on the eastern edge of Doomwood forest which serves as a haven for travellers along the busy trade route that runs by it. It was founded some time ago by settlers from the north.

The fountain itself is very old, however, and it is unknown by how much it pre-dates Moonridge. Legend has it that drinking from it's enchanted waters will bring good fortune on your journey, but this is believed to be nothing more than a children's tale."

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Chapter 3
Sun-scarred ruins

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The Sandsea lies East of Falconreach, under the scorching sun and terrible reign of Sek-Duat XV. The people of the Sandsea endure hardships like no other, between the tyrant in control and the impossible heat, they live in fear daily.

Long ago, under the reign of previous Sek-Duats, the entire desert was once a great city. But over time, the sun consumed it. There are ruins that remain, some of which can even be seen on the horizon from what is left of the city. It is unknown what kind of treasures might still exist among the desolation, for there are no water sources and no one foolish enough to wander out into the wasteland. Now only rumors remain. The citizens speak of a Sand Whisperer. An entity living deep within the desert, calling them. Sometimes, when the wind is right, a soft and gentle whisper may catch your ear. "Come", it says, "follow the moonlit path". This seems likely to be pure conjecture.

In actuality, the idea of anything surviving out

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there is simply impossible and the very thought of pursuing such a ridiculous myth is reckless at best. It does make for a good story, however.

There is also talk of a surviving sand elf living within the city. Sek-Duat XIV had these elves hunted, placing a bounty on them. Apparently they offended him in some way. Because of the terrible reign of the Sek-Duats, that a sand elf should be living today is undeniably a myth. But if it were to be true, it would likely be cowering in fear.. trying to hide it's existence.