The Tale of Sherstad and Tyrain
I tell you this tale as my grandmother told me, as her grandmother told her, back and back through the centuries. So listen children, and I will tell you the Tale of Sherstad and Tyrain.
Centuries ago, there lived a nymph by the name of Tyrain, a poet of the finest caliber. Tyrain lived in a great marsh, and wove her poems day and night. All the animals of the marsh would gather ‘round her to listen to her poems, and her words held such beauty and power that the marsh flourished like never before, until it was almost bursting at the seams with salamanders and birds and insects of every type. And with such abundance, the marsh quickly grew far too crowded. Luckily, the far eastern edge of the marsh bordered a lush prairie, and Tyrain knew that she could easily channel her control of the marsh’s waters through it.
At the same time, a dryad named Sherstad was facing a similar conundrum. As the oldest tree in the forest, she was responsible for the wellbeing of all who lived there, and she had tended the forest well for centuries. But the Forest needed to expand to support the next generation, and they could not expand eastward, as a great desert raged just beyond the eastern border. Luckily, to the west lay a lush prairie, perfectly suited for the needs of the forest folk. Sherstad could coax the saplings in that direction, spread her influence westward and provide for her forest.
And so Sherstad and Tyrain made their plans, each unknowing of the other. But when the nymph and the dryad reached their magics out, each one encountered the other’s presence, and recoiled at the feeling of the foreign magic. Again and again, each tried to claim the prairie, and again and again each was rebuffed by the presence of the other.
Eventually, as the sun arched high over the Norlic Mountains, the two spirits decided that they would go in person to the prairie, and see what had been thwarting their attempts at expansion. They met, quite by chance, in the exact center of the prairie. Had things been different, perhaps the two could have resolved the issue peacefully, but as it was both spirits were tired from magical exhaustion, and were thus far more prone to their emotions. They argued for hours, as the sun creeped lower as lower in the sky, but neither would budge on their position. Sherstad insisted that her forest needed the whole prairie in order to have room for the next few generations, and Nyrian insisted that her swamp could no longer be contained because of the growth from her poetry, and that she needed the entire prairie for residents that existed now. And the anger, and the power of belief raged strong in Sherstad and Nyrian; they argued with words and with wits as their magic and belief tore at the land.
And then as the last rays of light crept below the horizon, a resounding crack silenced their argument. The ground between their feet split, and, as nymph and dryad looked on in shock, the crack grew and grew and grew, drawing the two farther and farther apart and lengthing, both north and south. When the ground finally settled, there was an immense rift between the two spirits, a mile wide and stretching the whole length of the prairie. And Sherstad and Nyriad each returned home, disgruntled that the other had stolen half of what should rightfully be theirs. And the forest and the marsh grew and expanded, each running right up to the rift, but unable to cross beyond it.
I tell you this story, child, so listen well to the power of belief. When my grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother heard it, it was naught but a campfire story, with barely a single grain of truth. But the story was told, again and again, and it passed from story to legend, and from legend to myth, and from myth to belief, and from belief to truth, as such things are wont to do in this world. So be cautious, my child for belief has power enough to rend the earth, and to bring to life even the smallest tale told.
Variations & Mutation
There is, in certain circles, another version of the tale. Most of the tale is the same, but the cause of the Rift differs slightly:
[…]This version of the tale ends with a similar rejoinder about power, but instead of warning of the power of belief, the tale-teller warns of the power of dangerous magical artifacts, which ought not be touched by those without knowledge.
And then as the last rays of light crept below the horizon, Sherstad grew frustrated, and drew a large, claw-shaped emerald dagger, which she threw at Nyrian, aimed at her heart. The nymph dodged, and the dagger lodged point down into the ground between the two spirits. The ground rumbled as the dryad retrieved her dagger, and the two watched, stunned as a huge crack erupted in the ground. The crack grew and grew and grew, ending the earth and lengthing, both north and south. When the ground finally settled, there was an immense rift between the two spirits, a mile wide and stretching the whole length of the prairie. And Sherstad and Nyriad each returned home, unsettled by the power of the dagger, which Sherstad quickly hid in the depths of the forest. And the forest and the marsh grew and expanded, each running right up to the rift, but unable to cross beyond it.
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