As The Third Sun Sets: Tales of Girathinia

"As he entered the valley on the edge of Grianry desert the Karrathan saw in his mind's eyes a sprawling metropolis stretching further than the horizon…"

The journey had been long and arduous after being thrown in the desert by his captors and left to die the Karrathan was certain these days would be his last. His nomadic tribe, native to the Cypernian belt, had been ambushed by the mysterious armored figures; their weapons seemed to fire pure light; it was a slaughter. He knew he should not be alive to even wander in this burning heat. The air of the Grianry desert, rich in its time sands and other flavorful powders, bit at his still fresh wounds as he tried to collect himself and search for some source of water. Just as he was about to give up and resign himself to his fate he it, the telltale sound of sand grinding against the underside of a salamher, the beast his own tribe used to navigate the desert; a giant reptilian pack animal, cold-blooded perfect for surviving this desert heat. He ran towards the sound, stumbling and clamoring over the dune, only to find as he crested the peak the business end of a spear making direct eye contact with him.

"Who are you to have wandered so far into the desert and have no Salamher and no supplies," asked the wielder of the spear currently making eye contact with the Karrathan. He was a giant of a man, his skin a deep bronze, from years of nomadic traveling under the light of the three suns of this world. The skin that was exposed, little as it was, was covered in scars and signs of battle that one would expect from a warrior of any of the Ginarian tribes. Yet something seemed different about him, his eyes still had a glint to them, one rarely seen remaining in the eyes of anyone who made their living in this arid landscape, warrior or not.

"My people were destroyed. I am all that remains please, brother, do you have any water to spare? I have been wandering for three days," begged Karrathan. The man looked down upon the Karrathan and saw the same glint in his eye that he saw in his mirror everyday, hope.

Raising his spear away from the young man's face, Argala, of the Marasian tribe, reached out a hand and helped the lad to his feet. "I am Argala of the Marasians, we have seen the rising smoke from what I can only assume was your people's final resting place, come I will bring you to see the chief and we will discuss what to do with you."

"Thank you, I am called Plotu Yamhad of the… the last of the Karrathan tribe, and this kindness shall not be forgotten"

The two made their way to the center of the convoy's camp and entered a modest tent, its doors bookended by men who seemed large enough to fell a great Cyperninan pine in one fell swing of their massive polearms. "Worry not, as long as you are under my escort you are protected amongst these people," Argala reassured Plotu, noticing the look of fear on the young man's face,

Poltu, barely more than a boy, took as deep a gulp as he could. The three days spent wandering the desert surviving on time sand, called as such for it seemed to preserve food in a state frozen in time, and whatever small insects and creatures he could manage to catch in his weakened state, had left him a shell of himself. Dehydrated and distended, the already thin man's ribs appeared to be poking through his tattered clothes and he responded to the reassurance with, "thank you, friend, forgive my nerves the past few moons have been…. Harrowing and my nerves seem to be running faster than a salamher after the ceremony of marking." Entering the tent it was decorated in many tapestries, a small fire in the middle had skewered rodents roasting over it. At the far end of the tent, sat on what could only be called a throne by the standards of Grinarian tribes was a mountain of a man a large cross shaped scar on his face, laughing, a deep, low, bellow of a laugh that could rival that of the nightlynx's roar.

"Argala," he rocusly boomed, "what is this, have you brought us a stray?" The large man stood, seeming only larger still, and made his way to Plotu. "You seem a specter more than a man, what brings you so foolishly deep into the Grinary with seemingly no means of survival?" Plotu stood frozen, struck with awe at how this gargantuan, who made the two just outside, that had stunned him moments prior, seem average in stature. "Fear not little one, I am Marasia chief of these people and I see you are thirsty, here," Holding out a skin that seemed no bigger than a fig in his hands, Marasia smiled widely, the corners of the scar on his face seeming to smile along with him; Plotu took the offer with speed rivaling that of a falcon diving for its prey and drank deeply. "Gods be praised," Pluto gasped between breaths, draining the water skin to the very bottom, "thank you chief Marasia, I am called Pluto Yahmed, member of the Karrathan tribe, though I suppose I am the last member now. I am indebted to you and your tribe for saving my life, please allow me to pledge my hands to you so that I may repay this kindness."

The mammoth rolled out another billowing laugh and clapped Plotu on the back, "Young man I appreciate your candor and respect for the old customs, you need not pledge fealty, you may keep your tribal name, as it is now up to you to rebuild the once great Karnthaian tribe. The men who attacked you tell me, did their oddly shaped bows seem to fire pure light?" Marasia asked, his tone shifting from jovial and welcoming to a more somber and serious one.

"How did you know that?" posed Pluto.

"You aren't the first stray we have found in recent moons, as a matter of fact, your founder, Argala here, came to us in a similar fashion not four cycles ago," at this Plotu looked to his rescuer and Argala looked away as if to dismiss any notion of kindness, "there seems to be shift occurring in the three suns, a new enemy, from north of the pine belt, is setting itself upon the desert. They are taking large amounts of time sand and the other powders and elixirs we trade with the Cypernians for the things we cannot get here. Their weapons are unlike anything we have ever seen and our razor sharp discrubs and spears bounce off their armor as easily as flies are brushed away by a salamaher's tail. We have managed to evade them and still know very little otherwise…"

"They called themselves 'Calothathonians', and kept on shouting 'for the glory of the tundra' as a war cry, " spurted Plotu between bites of the lizard that had been offered to him by Argala.

"It is just as we feared," Marasia solemnly claimed, "the shift has occurred and a great war is upon us." The giant man's face twisted into a grimace and he let out a long, exasperated sigh, "as the third sun sets we shall make preparations for battle, I know you only just arrived but I must ask you to take up blades with us ag…."

"I am ready to fight," interrupted Plotu, "apologies but I am eager to avenge my people and I have already managed to kill one of those monsters and took this," Producing from his cloak a small curved contraption made of various metals and crystals, fitting comfortably in his palm he gripped it tight and squeezed a the piece that seemed raised against his fingers. -BWMVF- they all jumped as a glowing hole appeared in the rug that the end of the tool was pointing towards. Marasia started laughing hysterically as the guards outside the tent came rushing in "Stand down, my goodness it appears our new addition may have just given us exactly what we need to win the oncoming battle. Go gather the men and supplies, tonight we prepare for war.


Present day- "Now children you all know the events that followed; Pluto Yahmed, The Karrathan went on to lead the Marasian people against the Calothathonian forces in the First Grand Sand War, his close confidant Argala by his side the whole way. After victory they founded our great city of Karrathanar and opened the first of the sprawling bazaars that would become the grand bazaar at the very center of this city and that is the story of how Pluto and Argala met," the caretaker of the orphanage finished her story. Yahmed and Demtri, both restless having heard the tale of the setting of the second sun many times before, both thanked the sister and proceeded to run outside to play in the dark alleys of their part of Karrathanar not knowing that soon their stories would be told as the third sun sets…