Citizens of Aetherius,

Last month Tomast the Cleric told a tale which many were fortunate to
hear. After several requests for copies of this tale that I had
journaled, the decision was made to post his words here for all to see.
This will be the first part as the second is due to be told soon.

Tomast the Cleric says, "Our skies were once graced with the luminescent
brilliance of a solitary moon, whose soft incandescent glow lit up the
night, accompanying celestial starfire in an eternal lunar dance. The
course that the moon followed across the night sky seemed to mimic the
flowing patterns of the once mighty river that wreathed across ancient
Caanae in the time of Iktaru."
The waters that flow forth from the Spring to the cliffs edge, gave
those of Iktarus tribe life in the form of sustenance and shelter. From
the mud of the rivers, they learned to create daubed huts and how to
cultivate the land and to train the waters towards their fields for
irrigation.

I digress, you must forgive an old man at timesI am sure you all know
this from your history lessons. I know you all understand that without
our antecedent, Iktaru and his discovery of this place none of us would
have come into being. Now, where was I? Oh yes.

Tomast the Cleric says, "Many years passed, and great empires aroseand
wars were waged in the lands. The epic battle of Natharial and Czevak
was fought and forgotten. Though the soil here remains as red as the day
that blood was shed. In the month of Ultio, many Seers began to observe
strange happenings in the night skies. The phases of the moon became
wildly erratic; evolving from full to crescent within a stroke of time."

The gentle bronze light would shift into patterns of glowing shadowed
red. The waters of the land seemed to pull at the celestial body,
wreaking havoc with the tides and aquatic life. Earthquakes and
devastation reigned supremenone knew what would be the outcome of the
violent moon cycles.

Now remember, young ones...this is as my Father told it to me.

A motley trio of siblings watched with avid interest the devastation
wrought by the Moon from a secluded grove along the roaring waters of
the river...

One regarded the destruction with a heavy heart; the gentle dreams of
peace and happiness that sparkled in her eyes fading dim. One regarded
the shifting changes of the terra firma and the waters with great
interest, a mischievous glint in his eye, chuckling to himself, eagerly
awaiting more. The third, watched the horror of the people and wildlife
with grim satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

A change overcame the three, even as the lands changedThe powers of the
seers and dream lore touched their eyes and the visions that clouded
their minds became all consuming. The three of the shared blood, each
burning with a desire only known to thembegan to call to the Moon.

The eldest of the trio was tall and muscular, his countenance dark and
aristocratic. His hands, though elegant bore the signs of mastery with
weapons, and brute strength. Oh, childrenif you could have seen the
accounts of his mind. I shudder to think of them as my Father told them
to me so long ago. Terror was his dream, violencehis lover.

"The eldest of the trio was tall and muscular, his countenance dark and
aristocratic. His hands, though elegant bore the signs of mastery with
weapons, and brute strength. Oh, children if you could have seen the
accounts of his mind. I shudder to think of them as my Father told them
to me so long ago. Terror was his dream, violence his lover."

Tomast the Cleric shudders violently.

Tomast the Cleric says, "Dark minds..."

The second son was slender, and he bore neither great height nor
appearance of anything other than a plain, simple man despite the look
of his eyes. The colors shifted and changedchameleon like. Forever
twinkling, his eyes gave evidence to a wildness of mind and spirit. A
middle child, he was forever held betwixt the dynamic of his siblings...

In his heart he longed for a change.

The girl child, wellI shall tell you now, no beauty exists that was her
equal. Graceful and slight, this fair one had a smile that soothed even
the temper of her eldest brother, as well as charmed into complacency
the vilest of beasts. Her hopes were displayed in her every
movement...love, and health and happiness.

The three clung to one another, whispering their prayers in a relentless
chant..day and night and night and day.. it was never ceasing. The Moon
tore the very rivers from the grove, to leave but a trickling pool. and
yet the three continued their plaintive prayers with feverish minds.

Tomast the Cleric exclaims, "Then my friends..o ho! Give a listen to
this!!"

Then came the month of Letum, and it was a frigidly cold winter, the
winds whipped into cutting strength by the Moon. The siblings thought to
combine their mental gifts and prayers, raising their voices in unison
to the heavens. A creeping, grayish mist came upon them, circling around
the siblings as it lingered and grew heavier in the air. Shrouded in
heavily cowled gray robe, a figure appeared to the three.

A voice came from the shadowed hood, a strong male voice that shattered
the perceptions of the three said, You shall each have what you most
desire, though it shall not be as you imagine.

Upon hearing His words, the three soon forgot about the ties of blood
and the promise of shared dreams. Something foreign overtook the
three...

An insane greed, an overwhelming desire for the powers they sought. They
clung to the figure, pulling at his robes and alternately begging and
ordering him to bestow upon them what they asked. Give us our powers!
they cried.

Tomast the Cleric gives a pained sigh.

The figure in gray merely chuckled, and smiled at them indulgently
before saying, You shall have what you seek.

He raised His hand upwards towards the skies, as if beckoning to the
Moon. Within His hand formed a glowing, bronze orb that lit up the grove
with its glorious light. The wry voice of the figure said, Touch it, if
you will. The three scrambled to be the first to touch the orb,
stumbling over one another to achieve their prize. Each achieved their
goal in accord with the other..They each collapsed with not even a
sigh..limply fell to the ground, at the feet of the now laughing figure.
He wielded a great hammer and chisel, and in one mighty blow the orb was
split into three.

The three would have their powersbut the price of their greed would be
the inability to have free will, or to control the gifts they sought so
anxiously. The robed figure tossed the chunks into the sky, and there
they hung. He called them by their names Sukhder, Moradeim and Aryana.

What has this to do with the state of the Springs today? Ah, that story
will be shared in due time children, in due time.

Tomast the Cleric chuckles long and heartily.

Take what you will from the tale. The personality of the three....the
effects brought to each....for within that day the Springs received the
powers it holds this day. That is a tale, for next month.

Tomast the Cleric says, "I ask that you share with your elders, in the
cities and the councils. There is a lesson to be learned in this, and
the next."

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Fas, in the year 456 AD.