July speaks...

July speaks...

Part Three: The Excelsior King

Once upon a time, 

All the lands were one,
And all the folk were free.
In a nation constructed by a great and powerful Hammer. 

For an age the Hammer’s weight was shared in the Hand of a great Republic—for only the mightiest of arms, brightest of minds, and noblest of hearts could bear the hammer’s weight.
Some built bridges and bonds of unity, while others cleared paths and broke chains of oppression. And though each knew their labors might not ever be complete, they toiled through time together, confident in the perfection of their shared purpose.
All was right in the Land. And right should have remained but for two storytellers. 

 

Hap the Golden and Irek Obsidian, equally skilled and absolute, spoke tales that placed the Folk at odds.

Tales which painted compromise as weakness, and made these founders doubt the honest purpose of their fellows. 

A time of terrible corruption followed.
For though each story had its merits, in their haste to speak, the tellers had failed to listen. 

 

And the tales they told were twisted beyond their plots, climaxing in a King of their creation.

Casper Kent. Tragically orphaned of noble blood, but raised free in the Pines by common Folk, he was made to hold the Hammer for each of the opposing tales. 

And so, just as the storytellers made two Kings of one Casper, they also made two Kingdoms from one Land. The Folk could not resist the fear implanted by the tales. Each saw their neighbors turned villain against them. 

Blood poured, War was declared, And yet, not all was lost... 

For while some Folk might side to suit themselves, there is another story for us all.


Of fellowship unbowed by failing tales.
Of friendship unfailed by broken promises.
Of heroes reunited ‘round the Hammer once again.


And of one King, painted motley by two tales, and thus become a third; 

With strength to raise the Hammer once again, to embrace its weight for balance in the struggle, and level it ever onward, ever upward, and yet never absolute.
Swinging toward a nation ever becoming, if never become. 

The Excelsior King.