Fair Lady Iosyne,

Many ages ago, Your beautiful hands molded the beginnings of the City of
Ashtan. Now it will be leveled to the ground by Armies who know nothing
of its Grace and Splendour of Architecture and Art. Will you not deliver
the City from those who Rape its beauty? Or, if not that, will you at
least provide Inspiration to those who defend its graceful arches and
lovely plazas?

For it is from the many legends I was taught as a child that I recall:

"Many years ago, before sentience was granted to mortals and while they
wandered the world unclothed and purposeless, the Gods looked down on
them with pity. Their creations hid in terror from the sun, and shivered
from the fall rains, and took shelter in shallow caves when the night
arrived and the moon shone brightly in the sky. It was then that Lleis
spoke to each of the other Gods and proposed a contest; for in those
days, even the Gods could be called 'young', and they oft took to sport
and games.

Her beautiful melodic voice sang out to the Immortals and it challenged
them each to take pity upon the mortals and build for them a place for
them to live, where they might hide from the sun or moon, their
Celestial Demons, and keep them warm from the howling winds that often
ripped across the continent. Many of the Gods and Goddesses, looking to
stand higher in the Eyes of the Creator, gladly took up the challenge.

In the North of the Continent, Iosyne took the clay that lined a fertile
seashore, and began to mold it into beautiful arches and brilliant
architecture. Streets took shape as Inspiration flowed from Her fingers,
and elaborate fountains and plazas began to create a beautiful pattern
where mortals might learn from the power of Art and Beauty, and thus
protect their hearts from the cold and harsh world that existed around
them.

In the South of the Continent, Lanos grasped the sands and dug straight
paths and perfect angles to create a picture of geometric regularity. It
was He who was able to create beautiful monuments, each edge straight
and true, to symbolize the power of Truth to lead mortals forward into
the coming years. His buildings, although not possessing the beauty of
those of Iosyne, were utilitarian and solid, able to survive even the
worst hurricane that might travel across the oceans. Even the stones
that made them up were Perfect carvings of Rough Ashlar found in
Moghedu.

To the East of the Continent, Severn, always looking to improve His
station, took the challenge to heart as well. Though not possessing the
Grace of Iosyne or the ability to carve Perfectly like His Brother, He
nonetheless took the rocky soil and began to build. His streets wove
back and forth, and those buildings He constructed were lopsided and
unstable. His paths were uneven and His structures leaked during the
worst of the Spring rains.

When it came time to judge the dwellings, Lleis and Varian looked upon
each in turn and discussed amongst Themselves Their opinions on the
matter. The Gods sat anxiously waiting for Their decision and even Haern
came and joined them in watching the deliberations. After many days,
Varian and Lleis turned to the gathered crowd of Divinities, and spoke
to Them.

The Creator spoke first, His voice echoing across reality, "Each of the
mortals shall benefit from Your creations, for many years to come. For
with this, You have heralded in a new period of civilization for them.
May they prosper in the places You have built for them, and may they
show Us the diversity of their spirits."

Then the harmonic beauty of the voice of Lleis enraptured them as She
spoke. "I asked You each to take compassion on the creatures that roam
the Creation, and You each did. But a choice must be made, for this is
still a contest and a Winner must be declared."

And then it was declared, to the surprise of most assembled, that the
victory should go to Haern. For He had created the beautiful and elegant
trees of the forest, and given many creatures homes where they did not
once have them, and had provided for them with food and protection from
harm. Though He had beaten the others, most were not upset at Their
loss; it was clear that the competition was tight and that the
uniqueness of Haern's creation was unmatched.

But still, one was upset. Severn, angry over His loss, strode to His
creation and began to destroy it. He threw the stones about and
destroyed the marketplaces and roads that He had spent so much time
building. Sulking for many years to come, Severn would not forget His
loss easily. It was a small consolation to Him that the ruins would
provide refuge to many creatures in the years to come."

O, Lady Iosyne, let Inspiration flow to those who would save Your
creation!

Qeddwyn, Last of the Ankyreans


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Haernos, in the year 124 MA.