The Legend of Daan

Daan was not raised in the manner typical of those born on Ynys Cymragh. His father served in the Hyperborean Empire and so they spent little time on their island. The gods of the Old Ways were being forgotten and Hyperborean culture would come to dominate. Even so, many still remember the lessons and myths that were known when the people emerged from the caves and mountains Though Daan did not know the names of the Old Gods, he knew their lessons and was raised to live in accordance with their teachings.
As a boy he was exposed to different customs and strategies of war, and he quickly became an expert in tactics and strategy.
Daan was a brave warrior who did service in the Hyperborean legions as a hipparchos cavalry officer. As a son of a chiefton, he spent more time amongst other cultures than his own. He served the empire up the entire eastern coast of Akados and nearly took the great northern land bridge to the continent of Libynos. At this time, the human civilizations were small with very little trade between them. Their cultures were distinct as nobody traveled too far beyond their own borders. Daan saw all these cultures and how the Hyperboreans brought the tribes together. He saw great civilizations start from seed, now protected from the monsters and dangers of the wilderness
The empire had come from the far north and was intent on conquering all of Akados.
He was able to outwit his opponents on the battlefield and would lead the Hyperboreans to victory while they quickly expanded their empire across Akados.
When the Hyperboreans left Akados and retreated to their homeland Boros, deep to the north, Daan returned home and found it under seige from the Heldring. The tribes had been split, fighting over who was to rule now that they were no longer united under the Hyperborean banner. The people of the land were focused on their lands and maintaining the magic of nature, especially the magical whisperings found amongth the leaves of the forest. They had no navy for themselves, only small fishing boats, and when the Heldring invaded they could come and go at their leisure.
Daan created an alliance of three tribes and fought against the invaders and their brutal raids and relentless need for expansion. But despite their best efforts, the Heldring grew stronger and stronger every day, their armies swelling with mercenaries and their ranks bolstered by powerful magic-wielding sorcerers.
When Daan settled back at Ynys Cymragh, or Insula Extremis as the Hyperboreans called it, he felt a twinge of regret. Was it being confined within wooden walls that made him feel so uneasy? Trapped like a pig when he wanted to be free like the crow. He tried to forget it and focus on his duties but the years became monotonous. Every days the sun rose and set but he couldn’t tell the difference between any of them. Even the seasons looked the same to him. His wife, Saeth, noticed and realized his lethargy was not going away.
“Come help me with archery practice today. The kids would enjoy spending more time with their father.”
“No, the bow is your speciality. I have nothing to teach them.
“Then it would be good for you to have a refresher. And if not for them, then for me. We don’t spend as much time together,” Saeth countered.
“Very well.” Daan answered. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, placed his hands on his knees and paused there for a moment. He took a slightly deeper than normal breath and upon the exhale he stood up.
heard the land and the mountains call to him. He set out, alone, to walk across the land so he could listen. The mighty warrior walked towards the mountains, the town at his back. His leather armor shined from a fresh polish from the sunlight.He traveled up and down the mountain side, across grassy valleys, through thick forests. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, so he made sure he stepped foot on every inch of his isle and his homeland.
Once again he climbed up a rocky mountain side. The rocky terrain was treacherous, and Daan had to navigate narrow, winding paths that seemed to disappear into the clouds. The sun ahead of him blinded his sight and made finding footholds difficult but he was determined, drived by a sense of purpose that burned inside of him once again.
After a year of travel, his armed became dull and beaten by the travels. Pounding raid had stripped it of all oils and it began to crack and splinter apart. Finally, after many days of grueling travel up the mountain he reached a cave with two pillars of stacked rocks straddling the entryway.
He was amazind by the sight that lay before him. The chamber was illuminated by a soft light emanating from a central pillar, one massive verticle stone altar. Carved into it was a mysterious figure, just an outline of a human head whose face was obscured by a veil of shadows. Daan took a step forward, ready to learn why he had been summoned here.
As he stepped in, the interior of the temple was dim and cool. He could feel a presence here. An echo? No.
It felt like a wave of energy of emanating from the walls. He took off his tattered leather glove and pressed his bare hand against the stone wall. He paused here and closed his eyes, letting out a big sigh of relief. And with that all the tension he had felt was released.
He walked to center and kneeled before the altar, bowing his head in reverence. For many hours, Daan parayed and meditated, seeking guidance from the Old Gods and reconnecting with the Old Ways.
Visions of his life poured into his mind and he relived his greatest moments. Daan had been up and near the whole of Akados. Daan had helped establish Hyperborea as the greatest empire and building Akados from disparate tribes into a united whole. Daan had protected this newfound empire from orcs, goblins, and elves. Daan had worked peace with the dwarves in the Stoneheart Mountains. By all accounts Daan was already a hero.
Yet everything would be naught compared to what he had to do next. Eclipsed entirely by a new challenge that would undo everything he had worked for in his life.
A voice echoed from the engraving, “Welcome, brave warrior. You have journeyed far in your life, and now you find yourself at the birthplace of your people.”
As the voice spoke a light from the altar steadily grew brighter until it blinded Daan and he had to look at the ground.
The voice continued, “Your challenge is to answer a single question, which will test your courage and your wit. Are you ready to face this challenge?"
The warrior stood silently before the voice, contemplating his next move. He took a deep breath, and then he finally spoke. "Yes, I am ready," he said firmly, a determination in his voice.
Daan eyes slowly adapted to the brightness that had come to fill the interior of the cave and he was once again able to see. From the central altar he saw a humanoid figure stepping out its limbs stepping out of and away from the pillar and off of the pedestal. The figure was brighter still and he was unable to make out any details, his eyes having yet to readjust to this new brightness. He could see only a vaguely hourglass shape that matched with the feminime voice.
Daan could hear footsteps as the figure walked towards him which echoed off the stone walls as it approached Daan slowly. When it finally reach Daan he dared not look her in the eyes for fear of being forever blinded. A soft warm hand touched Daan’s chin and lifted it up slowly so that Daan would gaze upon her.
The figure nodded in approval, and a slight smile crossed her lips. "Very well," she said. "You have the look of one who is read. Then let us begin the trial."
The figure gestured for the warrior to approach the altar to close his eyes. The warrior looked around the chamber, noticing the intricate carvings and inscriptions that decorated the walls. They weren’t there previously and was very confused about them. His walk stammered slightly as he was about to ask about them but then he took a deep breath, and made himself ready to face whatever challenge awaited him. Perhaps now was not the best time to start asking questions.
As Daan took his place the figure spoke again, her voice resounding through the chamber. "Your task is to answer this single question: What is the secret to true power?" Daan looked back, the question reverberating in his mind. He paused for a moment, considering the challenge before him. Finally, he spoke.
"I believe the true power lies in understanding one's own strength and weaknesses and knowing the same of others," Daan said, his voice steady and confident. "Only then can one use their abilities to the fullest, and achieve great things." The figure nodded in agreement, a satisfied smile on their lips. "Very wise," they said. "Now, let us see if you can prove you understand your own power."
The figure gestured for the warrior to follow, leading them to the end of the chamber. She stopped in front of a large stone door, its surface etched with ancient symbols and runes. These were not fresh mark and had been long ago. Daan could not place their exact meaning, though some of their shapes resembled the language of his people: Ogham.
The figure placed her hand on the door, and it opened silently, revealing a dark hallway deeper into the cave complex. There were stair leading down but only into darknedd. The figure motioned for the warrior to enter, and he did so, and his steps echoing off the walls.
The stairway stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, and the darkness weighed heavily on the warrior's heart. The silence, too, was difficult to bear. Daan was alone with his footsteps and the echoes they produced. The stone was smooth and well worked
Finally, he rounded a corner and saw a faint light at the end of the corridor that flickered slightly. The warrior quickened his pace, and his heart pounded in anticipation. That must be his destination.
At last, they reached the end of the hallway and stepped through the open doorway and into a large chamber. As he stepped in scones and brazier lit up completely and bathed the room with roar light. Now that Daan could finall see the walls of the room he saw that the walls were lined with weapons and armor, and a mysterious figure stood in the center of the room, their face hidden by a hood.
The figure spoke, their voice deep and steady, "You have passed the first test," they said. "Now you must prove your dedication and courage by taking up one of the weapons and facing me in battle."
As he emerged that most ancient of temple he came out to a setting sun gracing the mountains with its final rays of warm and granting a warm glow across the land. He knew his journey had only just begun and he was ready for way lay ahead next. Armed with newfound wisdom and strength of the Old Gods he set back towards home.
The armor he had donned in the final test was not on him, he was onlhy wearing what he had been when he first entered. He quickly shed the final remaining pieces of his armor, knowing leather armor would not be enough. But he had a new design for armor and he would emblazon upon it an ancient symbol of Ynys Cymragh like the metal armor had on it.
Despite it being night, he immediately set towards home. It was time for him to return to his family. They had to endure not having their father and husband around but he knew his quest was worth it. He would have to tell them everything he learned and then set out to leave them again. It wouldn’t be easy for him to leave his wife again, but he knew it was his duty and it was what he was destined to do. If he didn’t do it… Well, those visions showed a land of fire where humanity had burned away.
All the lands of Akados and all the lands of Libynos had been leveled and burned to desert. On top of the human suffering a terrible tyrant laid streets of gold inlaid with precious stones that sparkled in the firelight. The walls were being built by slaves, his family and comrades carrying bricks of brass and set to protect the evil from any uprisings. The walls were gaudy with their excess, adorned with intricate carvings and intricate patters. Fierce burning warriors guarded the entry into the city were armed with curved swords and spears made of shining bronze.
Withint the city, the air is filled with the sound of music and the scent of spices and slaved carried the merchants pallets to the bustling markets and bringing metal the artisans to their workshops. The palace of the city ruler’s were rand and opulent, their chambers filled with treasures collected from far off lands, onces Daan had never seen before. Were they even of this world?
Daan shook his head to wipe the images from his mind. He must keep that evil in his mind but not let it completely consume him. He did not have the luxury for despair so he made note to focus only on what he could do next.
It took him one week to make it back to his home town and he told everybody what he had seen in his visions. They rejected his visions as that of a mad man. Many of his people seek wisdom of nature but never within living memory had somebody had such a direct encounter with a god of the Old Ways.
Sometimes there were interactions with the elves deep in their wooded territory and people would return with strange propecies but nothing as extreme as this. Sure, the Hyperborean navy hadn’t been to the island recently but that didn’t mean there was issues with the empire. Yet none of the other petty kingdoms would listen to Daan. They were all skeptical and had their own agendas. Besides, peace has been the status quo for many years now. Why couldn’t the old warrior accept that and move on. He must be looking for a reason to go to war.
But Daan was persistent. He began forging armor and weapons based on those he saw underground. He would still need an armed cavalry to make it all the way to the Hyperborean capitol in Libynos.
The heat of the flames beating against his skin as he worked the metal over and over. The burning coal darkened his tanned skin further and he did so in an open forge so all could see him. Sweat dripped down Daan’s face as he worked, his muscles straining as he pounded with his hammer. Each sword took hours shaping it as it glowed red and sparked with each hit, becoming stronger until it was ready to be honed to a razors edge.
This sword was more than any mere weapon; it was a symbol of his honor, a testament to his faith and skills as a warrior. With each strike of his hammer, Daan poured his strength and determination into each blade. Even after they done the swords seemed to radiate energy in them.
There was a loud commotion from the docks, the screams were of panic and concern and people rushed there, fearful of a large fire breakout. When Daan arrived he followed the eyes of everybody present and out on the sea he saw a burning Hyperborean ship. The flag was black and the masts were torn and flapping in the wind worthlessly. Groaning came from the ships and an eyeglass revealed their source: undead zombies. The ship was gone. Daan launched firey arrows at the ship to sink it before it his shore and everybody looked at him and knew he was right.
He sent out the call that all who could ride were to be summoned to him. That they had one last duty laid to them by their Old Gods. An order they could no longer refuse. They would cross the strait and onto the mainland of Akados. They would cut through the dangerous Heldring land and travel all the north to the only land connection to Libynos. The road to the Hyperborean capitol was long, but Daan would use that time to ready his fellow warriors for the dangers that lay ahead.
The Hyperborean court had become corrupted and now the evidence could not be refuted. Too long had there been no contact so now everybody knew Daan was right and that the Hyperborean courts had been infiltrated by vampires and liches. Caring little for the people who the ruled over, they lived in decadence while even other nobles starved. Daan could not stand this unnatural evil. Nor could he stand the defilement of an empire he not only admired but viewed himself a citizen of. He summoned a host of knights to once again ride for Hyperborea and the destruction of evil.