The Journal of Quandrilian Fylfayne

Tuesday, March 20, 2012 , , 1 Comments

The only surviving page, stuck to the front cover but the wear and tear show that this was never the first page.

"Geraldia will pay for burning my crop.  I have set powder kegs all over the temple and by nightfall I will shatter her stone god and claim this island."

The temple of Wist was erected around what the ancient natives of SFI believed was a statue of a winged snake lord.  Whenever offerings had been brought to the statue good tidings were returned.  At first it was a circle of rocks around the statue, then as time and science advanced the ability to build proper structures saw a spacious adobe den, statue proudly placed in the exact center.  The dimensions of this adobe structure were kept for the main statue chamber when the construction turned to rough stone, the marble floors that followed soon ushered in polished limestone walls with intricate images of the man blessings the statue had brought to the people.

with every yin there is a yang and as science provided more grandiose structures it also brought about unintended uses for plants.  The ancient, peaceful, creatures (not unlike gnomes but far from dwarves)became aggressive as they battled over a newly discovered use for a common weed.  As time progressed the plants use garnered more attention than did the so called "deity" their culture was built around.  While some claimed the plant was a gift, the few remaining spiritual leaders knew differently.  With much planning, coordination and luck massive fires were lit upon the surface of SFI, at the end few structures stood and much of the life had been irradiated but the spiritual leaders stood tall on the steps of the temple, welcoming the fiending addicts into their treacherous arms.

Quickly it was noticed the good tidings from the statue were no longer occurring.  The fire had eradicated the sipopa from the island and w/ the new hardships brought on by the betrayal of their deity the addicts overcame the shamans.  Each generation of twisted creature bore fewer of them until there were but a dozen.  A number easily done away with as the next SFI tenants came ashore.

A wizened old (3K) elven wizard had a dream of a creatures whose sadness had returned as life disappeared.  It took near 100 years to gather the elves needed to populate and explore a new island but she was glad to accept the cost and responsibility.  For generations the elves flourished, choosing to not love in the expansive temple but to build their own nation and leave the temple as a sacred place.  New etchings were created throughout the statue chamber and its outward walls.  A declaration (loosely translated) of "For those sated by experience" is most prominent near the "doors".  Additional magic was added to permanently close the doors.  As the new kingdom grew the temple was never neglected but rarely visited.  It was treated more as a neighbor than a asset.

This changed when the Councilry vi Arcanus lost control of the kingdom to new type of political movement.  The great but small kingdom became more segmented but beyond a twist in perspective culturally not much changed.  The flags were the same, the soldiers wore the same uniforms, just those doling out commands had changed in experience and goal.  more minerals were took from the land, construction on the wall began.  Numerous docks were erected wherever a valuable resource could be quickly shipped off.  Money came flowing in, the temple was still ignored for purpose but was again being noticed for its beauty.  A wealthy elf retired from ruling the lands into the temple, bought it from himself before he relinquished control of his leadership.  After a year his servants had all left, rumors of an evil feeling emanating from their master filled the towns.  A year after that the family of 17 were slain at the retired rulers hand, madness had struck hold.  It was another few hundred years before a new priesthood grew up around the statue.

The land had become more decadent at this time and a new use for an old plant was discovered.  It was far from popular, the dedication to commerce and complicated social structures did not allow for that type of mind numbing feeling...yet. Within a handful of generations it was as common as tobacco, a few more as common as wine.  The Elven culture had undergone another shift, again a extreme one.  The deliberate nature of previous generations was mocked openly by a slower paced, more relaxed populace.  Decadence was common, as was murder.  This was the culture that saw the island shatter.

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