Collection of legends of 1000 and one campfire (Lagrima)

[Samy]

The legend of Tymora's switched feet

Tymora once won her place among the gods of the other races of Faerun. But the other gods looked over Tvmora and did not take her seriously, as she was actually a goddess of the halflings. This made Tymora very sad and the spark of happiness in the world grew smaller and smaller.
Gond noticed her sadness and looked for a way to help Tymora. He invited her to his workshop and there they joined forces: Gond offered all his craftsmanship and Tymora, glad of his help, the spark of happiness needed for a new invention.

And so Gond created magical legs for her, which made Tymora taller and raised her to the height of the other gods. Tymora hid these stilts under her skirt so that the other gods would not notice her. And indeed, the other gods could no longer ignore Tymora and recognised her as their equal.

Tymora was happy now, but knew that it had actually taken a trick to be recognised. So the gods of the longlegs were that easy to fool? To at least give the others a hint, Tymora occasionally swapped her two legs so that her right foot was on her left side and vice versa. But, as always, the longlegs wore their noses, eyes and ears too high to notice this themselves.

To share this wisdom with her original people, she repeatedly appeared to sculptors and artists in their dreams and instructed them to swap the two feet in their artwork. For she knew that of all her followers, only the halflings among them, who otherwise always had to look up to statues of gods of other races, would notice Tymora's swapped feet ... and thus always remember two things: Tymora will always remain connected to her people ... and longlegs simply do not notice when they are deceived.

[Samy]

The sadness of the little ice princess, Chapter I

In the cloud mountains far from here, a little ice princess once ruled. In winter, she brought ice and cold over the ridges of the mountains far into the valleys and a thick blanket of snow covered the land like a blanket. But when it began to thaw in spring, she would retire to the highest peaks, righteously tired from her labours, and go to sleep to regain her strength for the next winter.

For many, many years, the little ice princess lived like this in the cycle of the years and she was happy.

But then mortals came to the valleys in search of a new home. They built houses, cleared the silent forests, started families and began a new life. At first, the little ice princess found the newcomers very interesting. And she watched as the mortals began to master their harsh winters and became part of the mountains.

But over time, precious metal was found and the villages became cities. And cities, as we know, cause mortals to become more and more detached from the natural world around them. In the harsh winters of the little ice princess, they lit more and more fires to keep themselves and their loved ones warm and to protect their possessions.

These changes disturbed the little ice princess and she claimed the power of winter, as it had been here in the mountains all these ages. But the reaction of the mortals was to call upon the protection of the deities they had brought with them to put a stop to the Ice Princess's winters.

And so the argument began, and then the argument turned into a fight and then a full-blown war.

The little ice princess used all her strength, but the mortals, under the protection of their deities, penetrated further and further into the heights and mountain pastures, even destroying the little ice princess's sacred places.

When the princess realised that her strength was waning again at the end of winter, she looked around sadly ... would she even have the strength to defend herself in the coming winter? She saw the thawing of the ice, the sprouting of the plants and the first young of the mountain animals. And she saw the spirits of the coming spring awakening.

She saw all this new power and devised a plan to rob spring of its strength and shroud the mountains in a perpetual winter once and for all. And in that moment, her own sadness seeped deep into her heart of ice, turning it into a diamond of blue ice.

When the second spring moon appeared, the little ice princess stood on the summit of the highest mountain and performed her rituals to steal the power of spring. She let her voice resound in the valleys and heights and lured all the young animals to her on the summit, she sank her hands into the earth and began to draw the power of new growth from all the plants and she called the spirits of the new season to her and bound them in a storm of ice and snow in order to drain their energy.

The culmination, however, was the cruel ritual of sacrificing the newly born young animals in order to ignite the coming winter storm with blood magic.

The little ice princess felt the newfound power and her laughter caused the mountains and valleys to tremble, the streams and rivers to turn to ice and even the light of the sun and moon to hide behind the storm clouds: spring did not come to the mountains now, but the blood-soaked ice storm brought a lasting winter.

Then the little ice princess spread her arms and filled her lungs to blow the storm into the valleys and bring the power of winter to the mortals there one last time. The winter storm now reached every valley, every house and every hut, bringing cold and hardship with it. In the storm, however, the mortals heard the voice of the little ice princess, who called the children of the mortals to her in the storm.

[Samy]

The tears of the moon - a Gur legend

Mother Moon was once very worried about her wandering Gur people. She knew about the dangers on the roads and paths and that the world was facing even greater ones. So Mother Moon searched for a way to better protect her people.

Malar's curse of savagery, which turned mortals into bloodthirsty beasts, had been tied to the phases of the moon since its inception, for to spite Selune, her dark sister had once given back a portion of her Dark Moon time won in the game. Mother Moon had accepted this gift without suspicion and realised too late that her sister had secretly bound this gift to Malar: thus the full moon, of all things, triggers the curse. But that is another legend.

However, Mother Moon saw in this wildness the power that could protect her people and so she went to Malar and said: "Lord of wildness and bloodthirst, your curse is bound to my moon phases and so I claim a part for myself. Let's play for it, have a contest."


Malar, in his fierceness and conviction that he could win and then claim any prize, agreed without paying close attention to Mother Moon's words.

The two deities played non-stop for 28 days and nights, moving their pieces around the board, winning and losing. And then, on the last day of the lunar cycle, Malar won.

Malar laughed: "I've won, now hear what prize I want." But Mother Moon raised her hand and stopped him: "Wait, you agreed to play. We didn't agree that the winner of the game alone would win the competition." Malar shouted, but he knew Mother Moon was right: "So what do you propose now, Mother Moon?"

"Each of us gets the other's share of the power, depending on how many enemy pieces we were able to beat. You here: I have defeated the tenth part of your army, so I choose the same part of your curse. From now on, these cursed ones should be mine and I release them from your savagery and thirst for blood and take them both upon myself alone."

Malar snorted like a wild animal but nodded: "So be it, but in return I will take the part I stole from your army as part of the time of your lunar cycles and bind the moon to me during this time: it shall turn red with blood and I will hold my Wild Hunt in the world."

Mother Moon knew that everything had its price and agreed. She passed on the power she had wrested from Malar to her people and chose some of them to protect her own. The Gur call those who bear this gift, or burden, "Tears of the Moon", for they will always carry the savagery and thirst for blood within them and must always keep it in check. But they are no longer subject to Malar's curse, but to Mother Moon alone.

Malar, however, has been collecting a portion of Mother Moon's time night after night since those days and when he has collected enough, he claims his prize and colours the moon as red as blood.

[Samy]

Lagrimas song from the Crimson Spice Festival

I can't believe I’ve heard today
I can't close my eyes and make it go away.

How long, how long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?

'Cause tonight We can be as one
Tonight burned bones under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead-end street

But I won't heed the battle call
It puts my back up, puts my back up against the wall.

Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel
Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel

And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won?

The trenches dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart.

Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel
Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel

How long, how long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?

'Cause tonight we can be as one, tonight.

Tonight, tonight - Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel
Tonight, tonight - Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel

Wipe the tears from your eyes
Wipe your tears away.

I'll wipe your tears away
I'll wipe your bloodshot eyes.

Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel
Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel

Today the children cry in storm and ice
We live here while tomorrow they will die.

The real battle just begun
To claim the victory none must win

Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel
Nashkel, Bloody Nashkel

*inspiration, credit and thanks to U2*

[Samy]

The tale of the Harvest Haunting Festival

Let me tell you a story that took place in a small barony - not - far, far away ...

Since time immemorial, a baron and a baroness from an old family ruled justly over the souls entrusted to them. Ancient treaties were the bond between ruler and subjects: the baron and his handful of loyal soldiers protected the barony from robbers and monsters, dispensed justice when the elders of the village were unable to settle a dispute, and prevented other rulers from robbing the land.

Of course, there were also passages in the old treaties that nobody really understands these days. For example, the pumpkin plants that grew in many gardens and along the roadsides were not allowed to be harvested before the harvest time in autumn. And even then, the pumpkins were only allowed to be used as the heads of scarecrows, which became a symbol of the small barony. Or the taboo on cutting too much wood in the old forest. But out of tradition, everyone stuck to it.

Of course, life there was no easier than it usually was in the kingdoms, but the baron and baroness were careful not to demand too many taxes or labour, not to get rich at the expense of their subjects and they spent their wealth again when a harsh winter or a summer that was too dry decimated the crops and supplies.

It was the same last winter, it was hard and long. The baron's treasure chest was emptied to provide for everyone, but the debts increased. At the end of the winter, there was no longer enough food to buy from the towns on the coast, so the baron and his soldiers went hunting more often to get enough meat for as many people as possible.

It was the first moon of spring when fate struck. The baron was hunting a rare stag with two different coat colours and was gripped by hunting fever. He followed the stag alone deep into the old forest and became separated from his hunting companions. Only the next day were they able to find him, dead with a broken neck. It seemed that his horse had shied in the deep forest and thrown him off. This is how the baron met his end. Was this a just fate? No one can say.

[Samy]

In her distress, the baroness agreed and so the rich merchant became the new baron. But it became apparent in the first few moons that the new baron's heart had only one interest: to further increase his wealth. Instead of spending his fortune on the people of the barony, he increased the taxes and extended the period of indentured labour. And everything was immediately packed up and sold to the big cities. Thus the baron's treasure chest filled up, while the stomachs and hopes of his subjects became emptier and emptier.

In the beginning, the baroness tried to intervene, but her new husband dismissed all the old servants and replaced them with new people who were solely subordinate to him. He did the same with the soldiers and guards, replacing them with cheaper, foreign mercenaries. This caused the baroness to become gloomy and instead of fetching the old herbalists in the village, the baron brought in foreign doctors who recommended that the still grieving baroness be kept safe to protect her from herself. So she became a prisoner in her own castle.

Meanwhile, the burden on his subjects continued to increase as he began to manipulate the old contracts with the help of scholars: even more grain and livestock had to be given to him, and even deeper cuts had to be made in the forest to obtain valuable wood. But at least there were good moons without storms, hail or night frost in spring and a good summer that was not too wet or too dry.

By the end of the summer, a lot of grain had ripened in the fields and the animals were finally well-fed again - but most of it had already been sold to the big cities and the oldest people were worried about supplies in the coming winter.

[Samy]

At the beginning of harvest time, a stranger appeared at the baron's side. Nobody knew the man with two different coloured eyes and he only said that he was a merchant from a distant land and wanted to do business, good business, with the baron. He offered more than the merchants in the coastal towns and as quickly as the harvest could be brought in, it was sold and sent away with caravans full of strange, silent people. No one knew where the caravans went, they were simply gone as soon as they left the borders of the barony. And then the baron sold off a large part of the winter supplies in exchange for gold.

It was now clear to the elders that food supplies were no longer guaranteed for the coming winter and that starvation was imminent. So they held a council and set off together to the castle to talk to the baron ... and the baroness.

The baron alone received them in his banqueting hall. He sat on his wooden throne and his mercenaries stood armed and ready at the sides of the hall. The stranger sat next to the throne and watched the elders with an amused, disparaging look.

The elders asked to speak to the baroness as well, but the baron forbade any contact, citing his wife's weakened state. So the elders had to tell him alone of their worries about the coming winter: most of the winter supplies had been sold and there was a threat of famine. The children and old people in particular were in danger, surely the baron could not allow that.

When they had finished speaking, the stranger bent down to the baron and whispered a few words to him. The baron just nodded and the stranger stood up and spoke to the elders.

[Samy]

Without shame, he suggested to them that if the supplies were not enough in winter, then it was only because they had so many children and the old people, well, they had lived their lives, hadn't they? He therefore suggested to the baron that, in addition to a large part of the winter supplies, he should also buy the surplus children at a high price. That way, both sides would be happy, wouldn't they?

The elders were horrified and looked to the baron - but he only nodded, already counting his growing wealth in his mind. Then he ordered each family to give up one child, they would be sold for the good of the barony. He would use this gold to buy back supplies from the towns and get everyone else through the winter. Tomorrow his soldiers would fetch the children and whichever family refused would be sold together.

Before the elders could really process his words, the stranger gave the soldiers a signal and the armed men forcefully pushed the elders out of the hall and castle. Then they set up checkpoints on all the roads and paths of the barony to prevent any escape attempts. The baron was left sitting alone on his throne in the hall. And the stranger? No one paid any more attention to him, he had simply disappeared.

[Samy]

When the elders returned to the village inwardly defeated and delivered the baron's terrible order, despair and lamentation broke out. They would lose their most precious possession, their children. What were they to do? There was too little time to escape. Revolt and fight? They were farmers, shepherds, fishermen and craftsmen, no match for the baron's mercenaries, who were surely just waiting to slay all the rebels. Despair paralysed them all and, embittered, each family returned to their homes to spend the last few hours together. The choice of children to be sold broke the hearts of many a mother and father that night.

But in the middle of the night, fear, despair and exhaustion caused everyone to fall into a restless sleep, whether they wanted to or not. The last thing they heard were strange noises outside their huts and houses, it sounded like wooden walking sticks, a strange rhythm of tick-tock, tick-tock.

An old adventurer lived on a hill between the castle and the village. He had travelled through many countries and had even more adventures, but now he had grown old and had lost all his companions or had to bury them. When he came to the barony years ago, he felt the burden of the years of privation and decided to spend his last days here in peace. Ever since he had heard of the baron's order, he had sat by his fireside and thought about what he could do. By midnight, he had made up his mind and took his old sword out of the dusty chest under the bed. His hand could barely hold it steady, but he had decided that he would not be without a fight if the children were kidnapped.

Then he also heard this rhythm of tick-tock, tick-tock. Very close to his door. Was it the soldiers, suspected he was causing trouble and wanted to assassinate him here and now? Well, come here, he thought to himself, went and tore open the door, ready to fight to the last breath.

[Samy]

He froze when he saw the figure standing outside his door in the flickering light of the fire. It wasn't a person, not even a living person. Was it a person, or rather a thing?

It was one of the pumpkin-headed scarecrows that had been put up by the children all over the barony at the beginning of the harvest, as an old tradition. Its grin, frozen in time, seemed to greet him, one eye cut wide open in the pumpkin, the other closed ... it winked cheekily at the old adventurer.

Silence followed for a moment, then the scarecrow turned round with a leap and strode on gnarled wooden sticks to the garden gate. There it turned round once more, grinned at the adventurer and then strode down the hill .... Tick tock, tick tock.

The old man finally woke up from his surprise and took heart to follow the figure out into the night. When he reached the edge of the hilltop. The clouds broke and the pale moonlight illuminated the area from the village to the castle. And in that silvery glow, he saw pumpkin heads everywhere, staggering on wooden sticks and marching in different directions. Some were heading towards the paths and roads that led out of the barony, towards where the mercenaries' checkpoints were. But the bulk of the army marched towards the castle .... Tick - Tock, Tick-Tock.

[Samy]

A call woke the villagers in the morning. Was it the mercenaries, had they come to steal the children? But they quickly recognised the calls as the voice of the old man from the hill and came out of their houses, unsettled. The old adventurer called out to them that they would not be robbed of their children, that the danger was over. They should follow him to the castle and see for themselves, but better not with the children.

The people followed the old man to the castle, cautious and curious at the same time. No one dared to ask anything when they saw that the road was flanked by pumpkin-headed scarecrows. Their fixed grins greeted the villagers, their pumpkin heads smeared with drying blood.

The castle gate was open, the bodies of the mercenaries lay dead, their heads torn off next to them. Instead, they all wore grinning pumpkin heads covered in blood. The servants had suffered the same fate. The adventurer led them into the great hall and to the baron.

He was sitting on his throne in his blood, his head lying at his feet. But he was not headless either, for a grinning pumpkin head was enthroned on his tattered neck.

[Samy]

What else can I tell you? All the baron's mercenaries and henchmen were dead, only the poor baroness was still alive and had been freed from her chambers. Before winter came, she bought enough provisions for all the inhabitants of the barony with the gold of the deceased. Her old servants were reinstated and the old adventurer called the former soldiers back into service.

The pumpkin heads were once again placed in the gardens and along the streets as a symbol of the barony. The dead baron and his henchmen were thrown into an unmarked grave.

How do I know this whole story? Well, some time later a Gur clan was travelling through the barony and one evening a strange stranger joined our fires. His two-coloured eyes twinkled with amusement as he told us this story and asked us to tell it all the way down to the great cities of the coast. A story about how there was something ancient that would always protect those who could not protect themselves. It may have been long forgotten in the cities, so it would be good to tell this story again.

Well, that's what we're doing Gur now and you may believe my words or not, but .... let me tell you one more thing.

[Samy]

Ten days ago, I ran straight into a group of fists here in the neighbourhood. Why I was in such a hurry ... doesn't matter. Anyway, they weren't after me ... whatever the hell they were after. No, they were after a criminal who was kidnapping street children and selling them to slave traders. At that moment, a stranger came and reported that he had found a body in the alley back there.

The fists immediately rushed there and I followed curiously. In the alley was none other than the man I was looking for. His neck was broken and the fists surmised that he had fallen while fleeing over the rooftops and had received his just punishment from the gods. But I stayed in the alley for a while, because it all seemed strange to me. If you fall from a roof while fleeing, you try to catch yourself, to hold on somewhere.

But I didn't see any such marks anywhere and the imprint of the body on the muddy ground wasn't deep either. Thoughtfully, I searched the alley until I found something behind an old rotting barrel ... a grinning pumpkin head. That was enough for my curious nose and I hurried away from the alley. I bumped into the stranger from earlier, but we both continued on our way ... I only heard the sound of his walking stick behind me .... Tick tock, tick tock.