Of betrayal and deceit – A cyclopmanian tragedy
‘Come in! Come in!’
A fairly old looking man stretched out his hand and touched the young man’s shoulders.
‘We have arranged a special chair for you, with extra cushions, as you requested.’
The young man looked at the small stage, on which a comfortable looking chair was placed, with all the cushions he could dream of. He was a storyteller and one of the requirements needed to hire him to your town, was having a decent supply of soft, warm cushions.
‘Thank you.’
Out of his profession, he was a man of few words. However, this isn’t a story about just a storyteller. This is the story of the storyteller. Listen, he just started to speak!
“A long long time ago, before the arrival of men, long before the construction of Thais or Edron, the world was already with life. It were the trolls, orcs, undead and other terrible creatures that roamed the lands. But one of the most interesting creatures then alive, were the Cyclopses. These giant, one-eyed monsters were masters of craft and forging. Until then, there were no better smiths to be found than the hard working Cyclopses. One of their most inspirational creations is a magnificent sword, called the Cyclopmanian sword. It was forged by a tribe of Cyclopses, and it was one of the most beautiful weapons ever to be created by their hand. However, due to its immense weight, it was merely handled as a ceremonial weapon, carried by the leader of the tribe. The Godslayer, only a ceremonial weapon? Bullocks! Yes, I can hear you thinking this. But hear me tell a story of betrayal and deceit, one that shall shake legends and common belief, a cyclopmanian tale of tragedy.
In those days, a young male Cyclops, named Ul’drak, was in love with a beautiful, to Cyclops standards, female Cyclops, named Yr’na. They were still very young and their love was very passionate. The couple was viewed by their tribe as a symbol of the lifeforce of the Cyclops youth. For this reason, there were loved by all that were capable of loving. But alas, happiness of this magnitude almost never lasts very long. Yr’na became infected by a terrible decease. Nothing could be done about it. The doctors didn’t know the decease, so they couldn’t make a remedy. Desperate and sad, Ul’drak went on a pilgrimage to the north. According to the priests of his tribe, a great mountain was placed there. Only on the top of this mountain, a mortal could dare to contact the gods.
The young Cyclops traveled day and night, night and day. On his travels, he fought clans of trolls and fled from terrible fire breathing dragons. But eventually, he reached the majestic mountain, now known by us as Mount Sternum. Climbing it proofed to be the easiest part for the muscular legs of Ul’drak and he soon reached the summit. There, a wonder struck his eyes with such a daze; he couldn’t stand on his legs for a moment. What he could see there can be best described as a ball of light. Magicians and scholars nowadays suggest it might be a proto-type of the portals that were created later to attract souls from other planes of existence. Whatever it was, Ul’drak was strongly convinced this was a communication portal to the gods. He stepped inside.
‘We know why you have come, young Cyclops.’
He was surrounded by a number of cloaked men, all with white hair and bright white eyes. The Cyclops knew this had to be the gods.
‘But our answer is no. Your race has not been created by our hands, thus we shall not interfere in the course of your lifes.’
He was cast back to the summit. There, he fell on his knees and cried. The gods didn’t even give him a chance to defend his position. Is this what they call mercy and greatness? Ul’drak called it unfairness. The Cyclopses never choose to be created by Brog, Zathroth’s son. He and his kind preferred to live in peace and didn’t want to have anything to do with his silly wars. Disillusioned, he wanted to walk back to his tribe. But a gentle warm hand stopped him.
‘You are right, child. It is unfair. And therefore I, Suon, shall aid you in your despair. Take this jewel from my hand. Within, it holds a fragment of my divine lifeforce. It shall be enough to nurture your beloved back to health.’
A delightful happy ending, you might think. But you think wrongly, sad enough. As from the moment Ul’drak receives the jewel of life from Suon’s hand, thus enfolds the tragedy that would destroy his life and that of his precious Yr’na. A deceitful plot had been formed by some of his fellow tribe members. Unknowing of the disaster following his steps, the young Cyclops didn’t expect to feel the blade, until it pierced his body and heart. The jewel, taken from his lifeless hand, started shining even brighter, knowing the betrayal and deceit, and burned the hands of the perpetrators. But even the terrible pain couldn’t temper their joy, for their scheme and plot succeeded even better than they expected. Their leader, an evil Zathroth worshipping Cyclops magician, took the jewel and brought it back to the tribe. Their, its lifeforce was infused into the Cyclopmanian sword, which was taken from the hand of the tribe’s leader, after they murdered him.
And so becomes the legend of the Godslayer. Infused by divine lifeforce, the sword was able to wound and even kill a godly entity. To cover up their despicable crime, they linked the creation of the enchanted Cyclopmanian sword to an event that occurred around that time. Banor, the first human to enter the Tibian world, had managed to wound Brog, handling the magical sword Excalibug, which was given to him by the gods. Filled with unspeakable rage he cast the sword down into the lands of Tibia to be lost forever. Soon after it occurred, the plot members claimed to have found the sword that wounded Brog and named it Godslayer. And under this name, this unholy sword, cursed by the malicious act of betrayal and deceit, became famous and cherished by many generations of men.”
The storyteller paused and his chocked audience held its breath with him.
‘When the Godslayer will fulfill its dark fate, no one knows. Until now, none of the gods has been infected by the traitorous blade. But that day comes closer with every second that passes. The Cyclopmanian sword is destined to show its true nature in time, one that’s infused by betrayal and deceit, which destroyed the lifes of two young innocent souls. May the fate of Ul’drak and Yr’na be a warning to us all, never to assume what we have not witnessed ourselves!’
