A Drunk Historian’s Account

Today you find yourself in a tavern. Maybe this visit was unplanned. Maybe it was the only place still open. Maybe this was your regular hangout. Whatever it was that brought you here was no longer important. A single man stole the show. The entire night became his stage, and you’ll never know if you’ll ever meet someone as passionate in his trade as this wonderful historian.

The man wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall. What would catch anyone’s eye first wasn’t his height; it was his circumference. The man was portly and had a knack for wearing clothes tighter than he should allow himself. It was common to see this man lose a button or two from his shirts, swearing that it was larger when he purchased it or that he must have put on more weight.

Fat over old muscle, there was no denying that this man had lived a long life and was now intent on enjoying the remainder by his terms. His almost gray, likely once brilliantly blue eyes are generally full of life despite the scratched, dirty, thick lenses in front of them. The top of his scalp is clean bald, but the sides of his head cling to beautiful, long white hair in a messy, half-attempted ponytail.

As he spoke of the world’s history, his smile made his cheeks match his bulbous nose in shape and size, the alcohol making them all color match. Animated and enthralled by his own words, his lengthy beard got the most attention from his hands as he stroked it in thought or just when he spilled a bit of his alcohol.

Only a mindless monster would be able to refuse listening to this educated fool’s telling of Avilium’s history.

“Avilium! Ah-Vee-Lee-Uhm! For those of you who don’t know, that word means ‘existence!’ It is an ancient tongue, but today we use it to refer to our universe. Everything from the ground beneath your feet to the worlds beyond the stars in the Endless Darkness! Or… ‘Space’ as the astronomers call it. Idiots coming up with such stupid names for things… I mean, obviously, it’s space, right? Why, by the Mystics, would one refer to something….” He would grumble on unintelligibly for a moment before continuing.

“By the Mystics! Avilium was created by the Mystics! The Mystic King created all of his children, the Mystics; then those Mystics created their own children known as Mysterva. For many, many years, the worlds of Avilium worked in harmony and peace, but the Mystics of Light and Dark grew too powerful. The Mystic King was frail now, much too old to contain the squabbles between light and dark. 

Eventually, the Mystic of Darkness, Hadieha, finally had enough. Using his control over the dark, he brought ruin to all of Avilium. Even the furthest reaches of our existence felt the surge of terrifying darkness that enveloped the entire universe. Millions. Billions. Trillions! Hadieha pushed all of Avilium to near extinction.

Luckily, the cunning Mystic of Light, Havimael, had saved just enough of us to ensure our survival. The Eitori were given a gift from the Mystic of Light, The Spiral. As legend states, the Blessing of the Spiral is what separates the Eitori from other Mysterva. The remaining Mystics put their faith in us, restoring our grand planet, Eitoria, and giving us all we needed to progress. The Eitori are the Chosen Ones.

However, what the Eitori didn’t realize was that the Mystics were not defeated, simply slumbering, and we were reclaiming their very world whilst they slept! When they finally awoke, The King of Mystics, Toriatik, immediately took an assessment of our progress and deemed us unworthy of inheriting his homeworld! That was when Hadieha, despite once damning all of existence in such a brutal attack, recognize the power of Havimael’s blessing. Using the last of his power, Hadieha fought off Toriatik and broke all Mystic power in existence apart, implanting all of their power into the mysterious gemstones we know as Mystic Gems today.

The ancient texts speak of many, many types of Mysterva, but we only know of two others. The Hadien, who once could roam here to Eitoria. They were the Mysterva that answered only to the Mystic of Darkness. Monstrous creatures! Scaled, horned, winged, ferocious, and blood-thirsty. It is said that they are the ancestors of our more well-known Haditori in the modern days.

They were cursed by the Spiral rather than blessed by it. The Spiral put them into despair, driving them mad with hunger for each other’s flesh. As a reward for Hadieha’s sacrifice, the Hadien were gifted with a way to end their curse. If they interbred with Eitori, their offspring would not suffer from the curse. The spiral would forgive their children in their innocence, eventually freeing the Hadien people from their curse by including them as part of the Eitori people. Due to the curse of the Spiral, there are now thousands of different types of Haditori, all with different traits, appearances, and statures. The Haditori are the Forgiven Ones.

The other Mysterva we know of were known as the Hav. According to legend, the Hav were originally the Mysterva of Havimael, the Mystic of Light, and they all looked like him for the most part. Stunningly beautiful with fair skin, fair hair, and light eyes. If it wasn’t for their awful personalities, you’d fall in love with one of these feather-winged beauties without a second thought! 

When the Hav learned that their very own Mystic chose the Eitori, they began to plot against us, but the Spiral protected us. The Hav were refused the ability to inherit the Spiral’s blessing. Without the blessing of the Spiral, their people died off in the early days of our society. Legends exist of rare Havtori but in my seventy…. Er… sixty-five years, I have never met a Havtori. The Havtori are the Forgotten Ones.

Anyway… that is where the races and peoples of today all come from as well as the origin of the Mystic Gems, the source of our entire world’s magical energies and Gemtech!”

As he finished his spiel, the man fell back in his chair and finished off his drink before a long, contentful sigh. His eyes find their way to you, and his brow furrows slightly as he tries to identify you, “Well, maybe it’s my eyes, but I don’t recognize you under that hood, traveler. Which of these races might you be?”