The Adamkhuni

A long time ago, an Age before man,

Before the elves or dwarves, before stone halls or temples,

There lay a great people, a people of gods,

And in their rite they named themselves the Celestians,

And in their kingdom they lead judgement,

Goodwill and the telling of Justice

They were a small people, a council of

Eternal lords that gilded the flame

of hope,

Crushing damnation,

Creating peace

And in their grand hall lay one named Therita,

The Keeper of Gardens, of Nature, of Life.

He watched the Old,

Protected the New,

And made sure the gods did not use their power,

To too much strain.

But their was great hardships in the life of a gardener,

Of the great chief that bridled the fire

And hoisted the hearth,

His soferi*, longer than the others,

Gave into a fledgling of hart.

But there was hope, a younger peoples

Under the shield of the Great Tree,

They were small, few and civilized,

Proud yet Pious,

But one lead above the others.

Lo to behold! Crutia of Kathara, a great man,

A brave boy,

One wholst can wrestle any bull,

Tackle any Tarapricst**,

To him one day Therita came forth,

And shared stories of his troubles,

“Oh god of kings! King of Gods!”

The boy cried out in esctacy,

“I do accept of Eternal,

to guide me to my true fate.”

So the two went off,

Went going to the Garden of Gods,

As Crutia withheld all of the sites,

All the grandeur, greatness of the city.

The City of Valleys, the City of Pure.

“Crutia” said he, the one who holds Earth,

“You are of the Celestians now,

A great people with great power,

but you must learn restraint.”

And so the two went,

Teaching one and learning both,

Until the power of them was great,

And they had learned as much.

But there was one final taske,

for the child of courage,

“You must endear” Therita declared,

“You must endear the trial we all face,

of piety, justice, and good,

You must go to the cave of essences,

my son,

Learn its secrets for the light lay blue,

and the blue will guide you to yourself.”

And so the brave boy boistered off,

To the cave of champions,

Trials, enduring dreams,

With him his gold without rust,

But rust are the hearts of men

Who are too proud of what they do.

Crutia, a proud boy,

Found himself in the glow of god,

And that god beckoned to him,

And so Crutia came.

But the god was not blue,

Nor purple, nor pink,

But a vast red,

A deep cut that ran through the world,

And he told Crutia,

“Be wise, my son,

Do not make false allies,

Learn your true enemies,

And strike fear.”

And Crutia believed the god,

The cut of cuts, of wounds,

And went to Therita,

“God of kings! King of Gods!

I have learned thyself,

And am readey for my throne.”

The god looked at the boy,

Smiling, remembering his,

Descent into the cave,

The cave of blue,

And put his hand on his shoulder.

“Crutia of Kathara,

My son,

My lord of knights,

Indeed you have learned much,

And use it well I do believe,

I grant you your crown,

Throne,

And you shall reside in the place of the gods.”

And so the two lay, in the presence of power,

But Theritas was great, and basked the city,

The boy wanted gold, but he fetted dirt.

And so he went to the cave,

The cave of the red god,

And pleading for his help,

And the red god told him,

“Crutia, Crutia of Kings,

You are deserving of the crown,

The crown of gods,

Take this stake, and use it well,

For its power it will behold to you.”

And so Crutia took the Red God's advice,

And struck the stake into the throne,

And power overwhelming face he,

Yet he still felt normal,

Unaided by any but his soul.

So for the third final time,

He went to the Palace of the Red God,

And ask what happen to the stake,

And the Red God tell him

“Crutia, Leader of Gods,

You must be proud yet patient,

For the day the dove hath come to you,

You will know power,

Truth,

And your power bith great.”

And so Crutia waited a long while,

But as the god hath said, the dove came,

And Crutia hat felt power as never before,

And Therita was but of peasant,

And looked down upon him and he back

“My son, Crutia,

I trusted you with power,

But you broke your restraints,

You crossed from peace to damnation,

And you must serve justice.”

But Crutia, now powerful,

Struck that with such power,

And so Therita lay,

Mortally wounded,

But the Celestians had come.

And so Entaros, the true god,

God of Kings, King of Gods,

Spoke to Crutia,

And his voice rang into the deep bellows of the Earth.

“Crutia, you have betrayed the Gods,

And with this you will not be reprimanded,

Therita trusted you, with good and with gold,

But I will not make the same mistake.”

And so Crutia was banished to the depths of the Red God,

And Therita healed,

Put back into power,

And he held no mistake of his fault

In his action.

“But my son, there is no fault,”

The God of Kings told the lord,

“Some men are tainted,

Others are purified,

We cannot see through these things,

We may only tell in time.”

And that is the story of Adamkhuni,

The tale of Gods,

Of darkness and taint,

But justice and purity.

*= Winter

**=Now extinct, two-legged birdlike creature. Thought to have existed during the writing of this tale.

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