Occasionally stories get passed down from person to person, generation to generation, culture to culture, species to species, on and on so much that one can no longer tell where they came from or who started them. This is one of those stories. I would love to be able to tell you the exact origin of this story and if in fact it was all true, however I cannot. These like most things in life you will have to take on faith. What I can tell you is that the journey you are about to embark upon is one that has been passed down from the time when there was no time, or I should say, time as we know it, when worlds were not worlds, and life was not the life you know it as.
There was a time when what we call the law of physics and our rules of the universe did no exist the way they do today, a time when things operated on a very different, yet similar level. I know most of you right now are laughing at this as did I when the story was first passed to me, but as I heard more and more I stopped laughing and began believing, for sometimes in life we must abandon all preconceived notions and let our imagination take over…..This is one of those times.
I would love to start at the beginning, but I do not know it, what I do know is the beginning of this story.
As the suns rose over the Plains of Time of Ishaphan a lone figure stood frozen amidst the binary rising of the suns. At first glance one could not gauge a size or shape of this object, this due mostly to the optical illusion effects of a double sunrise, which if you have never experienced it I highly recommend you do some day. The lone figure grew more and more into focus as the suns rose higher over the planes, he stood, barely, but he stood. His left hand loosely held his dented shield; his right hand held a sword, which was the reason he was able to stand. On his head fitted just right was a one of the ornately and finely crafted helmets his race was known to create. His body was battered and bruised, although one couldn’t tell from the fur on his body.
His breathing was heavy; his chest heaved under his armor and blood matted his fur where his fur was visible. The strange thing about this scene unfolding on the Time Plains of Ishaphan was that this individual was alone. There was no one for years around him (I say years because on the Time Plains of Ishaphan distance is measured in time not miles).
The suns were rising at opposite ends of the horizon, a truly unique system this was. The being was growing weaker and anyone watching from any distance could now tell that this was an individual breathing his last breaths of life. The being had fought bitterly in battle as his race was known to do and he although on his last breath had emerged victorious.
The suns continued to rise and the triumphant soldier looked to the sky, he knew he was seeing his last binary sunrise, but a smile crept across his mouth, he knew he has succeeded in what he had set out to do. He looked at his wounds, deep wounds that were fatal, he saw his once magnificent fur matted in blood and he saw his Crest of Origin chain mail still intact and blazing forth proudly his family crest. He gave a last smile, looked to the two suns as they were about to eclipse each other for that brief moment of pure blinding beauty, found his last bit of strength, tightened up in a crouch and then reeled back, spread his arms wide, flexed every muscle in his body and let out a roar that shook time for every being to hear, the unmistakable word……FFFRREEEDDDDOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just as he was roaring, the suns eclipsed there was a brilliant flash of beauty and Elsor, Lord of The Phyrax people froze in an intimidating posture of pure triumph and impressiveness. He had frozen in an unbreakable, unmovable, monument of what he had done.
I am told that if one could still find the Time Planes of Ishaphan, one will still see Elsor frozen in that exact posture, detailed to every last strand of fur on his impressive body.
I know at this point you may or may not have a lot of questions, when I was told the story it was told to me by a masterful story teller, not one of your race, but a very different race, a race of being that is known for telling stories precisely as they have happened. When listening to these people you can close your eyes and literally see the story unfold before you. Some say they have a hallucinogen in their voice, I don’t know if this is true, but what I do know is that embedded in my memory banks is the whole story of Ishaphan. I only wish I could tell the story as beautifully as it was told to me, however in this place in time I can only tell the story the way the laws of your universe allow me to, so this will have to do.
Let us venture back a bit in the story and perhaps answer some of your questions. I am afraid I can only explain details in your language for you would not understand the symbols, sounds and movements of this world. A lot will be lost in translation, but again, it will have to do.
The Phyrax people were a proud race, one that was created to protect and rule over Ishaphan. At this point I am sure you are asking two things, what is a Phyrax and how do you say it? Well the latter is easy, it is pronounce F-eye-racks. If you are one trained in zoology you may know there distant, distant, distant, distant, distant, distant, distant, distant, distant relative the Hyrax. A funny little native to the rocky land of your Africa, kind of like an overgrown guinea pig but a little more stronger and prouder (this no doubt inherited from the Phyrax). I would like to say that they look alike but they don’t. I prefer not to give a size reference because the size does not translate into your language. However in their world they were of formidable size and stature. Their muscles are well defined and hard as mahogany, their fur is soft, thick and shines in the sunlight causing one to stop and gasp at its beauty, but on the same token in moment of fast battle their fur has the ability to distract the enemy and play tricks on the eye. I cannot give you an accurate description of color because it does not translate into your language, although I am told to watch a Phyrax fight is like watching fire consume a forest at a speed faster than the eye has time to calculate what it is seeing.
They stand on two legs and have a body shaped almost like that of yours, although you would be laughed at if you stood next to a Phyrax for comparison….a good chuckle no doubt. Their heads sit on muscular necks, although you can’t tell they are muscular because a brilliant mane runs down from their forehead and over their head and neck, terminating on the shoulders.
Their face is handsome to look at it, the fur is short and velvety, and they have large piercing eyes, a short powerful snout and a mouth equipped with huge incisors for slicing and cutting and molars for grinding. I have heard stories of individuals killed by the mouth of a Phyrax. I will save the details for I do not want you to retch and terminate your reading of this story.
The Phyrax are not only masterful soldiers, but wonderful craftsman as well. They build the finest of weapons, known to be unbreakable, they may bend or dent in the most extreme of conditions, but they will never break, It is said that when the weapons are being forged the spirit of the Phyrax is crafted into it, the unbreakable spirit of the Phyrax people.
There are two notable pieces of the Phyrax battle dress, the helmet and the sword. I am told both are made for the individual on the day they are born. They are built by the foreseers, individuals who have limited ability to see what will come. The helmet and the sword are presented to the individual on the 31st triple eclipse of the suns and moon of Ishaphan…..roughly 13 of your earth years. Don’t try to do the math, it won’t work out by your rules. In the smelting of these weapons a drop of blood from the owner of each piece is placed into the liquid metal. I do not know if this has an actual affect on the weapon or if it is just tradition. But one can not argue the integrity of these weapons.
The helmet and sword can only be worn or held by that individual. If another tried on a helmet that did not belong to him he would find that it pinched and pulled in places that disagreed with him. If he tried to hold another’s sword he would find that he could not get a grip to even pick it up. This was the level of detail and care the Phyrax people put into their work.
Although they had the ability to rule and conquer all of Ishaphan and wipe out every other race and being, they did not. They were a benevolent race of individuals. Some were graced with the infallible ability to reason. A trait bestowed upon them by the Creator. A direct link to the Creator’s mind so in time of question they can go through his thoughts and find the perfect answer. These individuals were also the Foreseers, those who craft the weapons for the Phyrax people.
Let us rest with the description part of the story, there is much to tell and details can be filled in as we go.
I take you back to the Time Plains of Ishaphan. The Monument of Elsor stands proudly, defiantly on the Plain. Around it is a group of young Phyrax, they are in between the ages of 13 and 21 triple eclipses. They sit in a semi circle at the base of the Monument of Elsor facing it, or rather facing an individual standing in front of it with his back to the statue, facing the children.
He is dressed in an ornate robe and holds an intricately carved walking stick….or so it looks. His robes tell us he is a Hindseer, one who has the ability to see into the past. It is these that are relegated the responsibility of telling the history of Ishaphan to the young. His robes are flowing and long, all the way down to his furry feet. He is an old Hindseer, even by Phyrax standards, his name is Philadronus, and he has the responsibility of telling one of the most important stories in the history of Ishaphan.
Philadronus was adored by the children, to them he spun magical tales of fierce battles and proud victories, he gave them visions of history. He had a melodic and intoxicating voice, he was well loved and well respected by all. On this day, on the Time Plains of Ishaphan, the suns were just breaking the horizon as Philadronus leaned close in to the children and said in a beautiful, yet soft voice, “It is time young ones for you to hear the great story of Elsor and how he freed Ishaphan from the reign of the Dark Pumak forever!” As he said this last line he swept his robed arm up toward the Monument of Elsor just as the first two cracks of light from the rising suns cast their glow on Elsor emphasizing his words and causing a gasp to go out among his listeners.
The children leaned in, a little nervously under the ominous figure of Elsor, so Philadronus leaned toward them and said, “It all began when…………………”