Greetings, I bid you welcome.
I know I am not human, but don’t be alarmed by my appearance. Feel free to take a place beside my fire for a spell or two. The evening is crisp. The air alive with the songs of the nightlife.You had the good fortune to stumble upon the path of a Traveler.
You say you don’t know what I mean? Well, that comes as no surprise. When I met recently with my human friend (the owner of this blog) she and I spoke long about how time strips the fabric of lore threadbare. That is why she kindly bestowed her blog onto me. It saddened her that creatures of the fireside like me are long forgotten … well, unless you will sit awhile.
You will? Fantastic!
Let me introduce myself, commonly I go by the name of my birth, Gorach. To keep things simple, let us just say that I am a Slan, a creature of an ancient race. As I mentioned I am a Traveler. To be more specific, I am a member of a god-chosen Circle of bards that serve as immortal keepers of folklore, or true-master bards. Before you ask, it’s not nearly as prestigious as it sounds, skulking in the shadows. But oh the stories I can tell! Heroes and villains, magic and deities, unity and division.
In time I shall. But for now, by this fireside let me explain why I am here now. Let me explain why I need your ear. Ages have come and gone in endless succession, a veritable parade of upheaval into erosion. I have watched cultures rise and fall. I have been witness to great triumphs and abysmal failures. My own voice has sung into the stones the ballads of calamities great and small. Yet for eons these tales have moldered. Only accessed by the bards themselves, we few who survived only to become hermits of time captive to our hourglass fate.
As the stones roll on, history so often repeats itself in legend and lore. One painful lesson after another is rubbed raw by the actions of a new generation. Tend to me now, for I, despite the laws forbidding me so, shall be silenced no longer. The death of knowledge is a thing more terrible than any fate.
I hold fear for this age. So much is lost. So many cling tightly to their knowledge and refuse to share it even at the risk of its extinction. Ages ago I stood before the Circle of Travelers and declared it was folly to lock away the lore for any reason. Even for the protection of our precious magic, the target of eradication by those of our own race who dreaded it, denial was a price to harsh to pay. The others disagreed. We jealously guarded the secrets.
The Slannic race is now gone. All save us few chosen.
I ask you to heed the warning. I know, it seems silly listening to a creature you would call nothing more than a fox. Childish to pander to the pleas of something that looks like she stepped from a fairy tale book. After all, what would I know. Everyone knows that the only minds capable of rational thought are human.
Aha, did I catch your attention there? Well, listen to the chatter around you. You will hear that I speak true. It is common knowledge. But I assure you, it is false. Just because your eyes fail to recognize the extraordinary does not mean it doesn’t exist. Denial does not reduce something to the realm of oblivion simply because we wish it so. That, my friend, I can safely assure you.
There are so many things hiding in the dark edges of this world that no one ever talks about because of what they are. Not the tidy little pieces that can be explained. Oh no. The figments of which I speak are of the fantastic kind. The visions witnessed only by those who believe in dreams.
Tell me, is there room in your world for something like me? If so, then settle in. These old eyes have seen eons yarns to spin to the willing ear.
I have waited for thousands of generations to break the silence and share the truth.