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Verra and the Warhorn

ArchivedUserArchivedUser Guest
edited August 2018 in Ashes of Creation Lore

Verra Eikona was only a child when the planet that would later bear her name was created. It was a damp and cold morning in the forest following an all night rain when Verra heard it. A sound unlike any she had ever heard before. She looked up from her twig gathering and peered into the dark forest. Nothing moved. No bird sang. All was still, and then there it was again. A low deep rumble that shook the bones inside her and filled her with fear. She screamed and cradled her small bundle of sticks tight. Her father Nevets came running instantly. He held a blunt ax in one hand and a tree branch in the other.

“What is it!? What’s wrong!?” He asked excitedly. “Are you okay? What happened?” Nevets could see nothing wrong. Verra pointed at a dark spot in the forest behind a large bush. Something stirred.

Nevets looked worried. He took a fighting stance. “Who goes there?” He said loudly. The bush stirred. Silence. After a few seconds the low rumble again. Verra pressed against her father’s leg. Nevets smiled and set his ax on the ground to hug his daughter. “Oh that.” He said, and smiled at his daughter. His love for her sparkled in his eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid of that Verra.” He said. “That’s a Warhorn.” With one hand he reached into his possibles sack and pulled out one of the baked turnips they were going to eat for lunch and tossed it at the bush. It landed with a soft thud and a bounce. The bush stirred.

After a minute a large horn pierced the bush followed by a face. The creature was large and bulky. It sniffed at the turnip unsure if it was safe. “Warhorns are very friendly, but shy.” Said Verra’s father. “You don’t have to worry about him.” He said. “He only eats veggies. ”

“Eww,” thought Verra, and relaxed a bit. Her father picked her up and sat her on a nearby tree stump. “Listen Verra, there is nothing in this forest that you must fear. Everything here was created for you. Every bird, butterfly, and bee. Every bush, beetle, and frog. They all belong to you.” He smiled when he said this and sat down on his butt cross-legged. Verra could tell he was about to go into one of his stories because he always sat down to tell them.

Her father was a Bard, a storyteller, and the keeper of truths. Her own name, Verra, meant truth in some ancient language. People would gather from miles around to hear her father’s tales. So great were his storytelling abilities that he even wrote books and people fought to get them. Whenever he spoke in taverns people would hang from trees outside the windows hoping to hear what he was saying.

That day, her father told her she was a great princess who would one day rule the world. He spoke of a great adventure she would have and friends she would make. Someday she would soar above the clouds and be remembered forever as a hero. She liked this story. It was his best one yet, but she could never tell when he was truth telling, remembering, or making stuff up. It didn’t matter. The world belonged to her and she wasn’t afraid anymore. It turned out that the morning star, the brightest and most beautiful star in the sky was her mother. “And who’s my father?” She asked. “Wha..? Who’s your father?? Why I am you little..!” Nevets picked her up and tickled her as she squealed in delight.

Verra was a small child then. Only 3 or 4 eclipses old. Only the astronomers knew how old that was in seasons. But she never forgot that day with her father in the forest even after she was grown. He was a great father. She never loved another man more.

“Is that all the kindling we have?” He asked. “We’d better find more or we won’t be able to build a nice campfire and we’ll be forced to snuggle with that Warhorn for warmth.” He said. “It’s all up to you. You’re the only one who can save us Your Highness!” He exclaimed, and booped her gently on the nose.


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