Falcania-Veda

Learn now the epic of a breaking and the forging of a man into a blade that would one-day stand as a Ratava – A superior being wrought by his own will to power.

It was a stormy eve; upon the field of battle lay the fallen.  Three armies made war here, three kings lay dead on the battlefield.
During their quarrels the enemy, The bringer of entropy crept into their ranks ensuring that they would turn on one another and make war with their kin.
The kings came to battle, carrying with them their swords: Fordon "The Destroyer", Andsaka "The Adversary", and Krür-Tok "The Defender".

The shadow crept into their camps.  The war hoards bows did break, their swords became dull and shields rotted away.
On the field clashed the kings, each his sword did shatter.  Soon the shadow over ran his war group taking with it the noblest and the most lowly sending their Urki – the "Primal-Spark" onto the edges of the Universe.
Asunder where the three armies laid waste for the ravens to feed upon.
The song, which was carried in the hearts of the kings, had fallen quiet.  The shadow laid itself upon the cold stormy lands covering the bodies of the kings and their armies in frost and desolation.

A whisper sounded within the hallowed ash.  Spring dawned over the blue lighted north.  The land thawed leaving laid open the old king's bones.  The shards of their swords still at their sides.
With a wisp of wind entered a green cloaked shape.  It looked upon the battlefield of the king's last war.  Its eyes made of it what must have befallen them and their armies.
 Taking up the shards of Fordon, Andsaka, and Krür-Tok went away the green cloaked shape to a solidarity mountain known as Shira.
Hammers rang and blood was taken.  From twisted broken metal three blades became one.  Three kindred's blood with a volcano's fury cooled to a glistening bort.

The mountain's fire did bring the eyes of the tribes to learn what wizardry was at work under that old pile of rock.
One known as Arntiraas called "Eagle-Arrow" dared to scale the icy peaks of the mountain.  "I shall learn what wizard uses the mountain's flame!" he boasted making his way for the summit.
Arntiraas climbed the slope.  Mount Blade did fight him.  She threw wisps of snow and ices his way.  Mount Shira's children rolled down to pummel him for their mother's sake.  The Eagle used hammer and shield to shatter the littlings to dust.
Reaching an old gnarled pine Arntiraas took rest.  His journey to the summit, up the long road of Mount Blade was nearly at the end for he could see the fires from her core shining from the cave he sought.

Fire blazed from the maw.  Arntiraas stepped in.  He beheld the green cloaked shape standing at an anvil.  Its back turned toward him.  "Who are you?  What wizardry do you work here in Mount Blade?"
"Who are you?" replied the figure turning to meet Arntiraas's gaze.  "What do you want?" and the green cloaked one laughed.  "Most of all.  Where are you going?"
Arntiraas was unsure what to make of this.  He stepped closer to the anvil and there he saw the most beautiful thing.  A sword of unusual make rested on the black forging block.  It bore a single edge and no hand guard, at the sword's balance point rested an eightfold compass star set with a red crystal, three drops of blood cooled in the volcano's heat into a bort.  "What is it?"
"Kraris --- Talon-Blade" told the cloaked figure pushing back its hood.  A fierce maiden had forged the blade.  She was almond-eyed, golden skinned and long dark hair billowed in the heat of the forge showing off her pointed ears decorated with elaborate golden earrings. It was she who had forged the blade.
Arntiraas knew the maiden to be a Ratava.
There were three kinds of Ratava: Urkras, The Primordials born of the elements, old experiments of the great OM when it had burst into being and the Kiras charged life into the elements.  They were tools so that the Om might explore its nature.
 The Primordials called their progeny Rais for they were considered beams of light and teaching meant to enter the world and inspire mankind.  The Rais were the outcome of the Primordials who had joined with mortals looking to build a better species of Ratava in reflection of the Om's search to understand itself.
Most valued were the Charis -- Ascendants, those mortals who had by their wills eArntiraased the right to enter Char'Kal the Mountain of Ascended flame to continue the challenge of mankind.  Out of the three, the Charis were considered the most important for they were the Primordials only hope that mankind would one day ascend and take the Urkras's place upon Char'Kal.
"I am Falcania.  Answer my riddle and earn the right to wield the sword."

"These are the shards of Fordon.  Place them in the right order and you might yet grasp all you will need to know." said Falcania opening a pouch on her belt and placing three irregular shards before Arntiraas.  "They could not be worked into the blade.  You see they are leftover, though some of Fordon lies inside the Kraris.  The first is called: Geihva 'Who are you?' the second drano: Geihvat 'What do you want?' the third is drano: Geihvar 'Where are you going'."
"What is your riddle?" asked Arntiraas craving to wield the blade.
"From the tallest peaks men seek to learn what they think they do not know, It lays at their heart and cries in their blood.  Sometimes the Wise-Ones are lead astray by it well the Middle-Wise grasp it and are put on the long road.  It has no frontiers but the ones man places for himself.  Of what do I speak?" asked Falcania.  "Come whisper your answer in my ear.  It is not a thing to be given up easily to those who do not know."
Arntiraas pondered Falcania's riddle.  He placed the shards of Fordon in many configurations.  Sometimes end to end.  Other times one a top the other.  He even tried moving them apart to see if the answer was there.  Arntiraas however could not make out how the shards went together and at the last tossed them aside.  He did however have an answer to Falcania's riddle.

Arntiraas leaned over to Falcania's pointed ear.  He whispered the answer.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the shining maiden wise. "You have broken the riddle and earned the Talon-Blade to wield as your own."
She girded the blade upon the warrior.  "Here now you are the wielder of the Kraris and a keeper of the shards of Fordon.  Go back to the others and make their Eryies your own.  Bring a new species into the world.  One that might take its place on Char'Kal."
"The tip is thy will to power." Told Falcania of the Kraris.  "The compass star, the Tarik set with the blood crystal are our descendants, those yet to be born from your trials, it reveals our blood going onward, forging itself into the new Ratava.  The Tarik sits at the sword’s fulcrum, as we are the fulcrum of our descendants and the hope of the future."

Arntiraas marched down Mount Blade.  He returned to his village and tribe.
Whisperings of the three old kings' war and the shadow still lay upon the land.  Arntiraas called those to him whom he thought could understand the riddle of Falcania and the right order of the Shards of Fordon.
Some among his tribe called Arntiraas a rebel; others called him a true seeker of the wisdom of the universe.  Still others did not know what to make of the man who had brought a strange sword down from the mountain.
Many tried the shards, many left in frustration.  Some where overly wise and saw things in them that were not there.  Falcania's riddle confounded them, often they would stumble on the answer but turn away from it for such seemed to easy an answer to so long a verse.

It is spoken of Arntiraas that he raised a tribe and went from the north.  A red star known as the Tarik "The Ruling Star" beckoned him on to new lands and new ordeals.
In most high esteem was held the riddle and the sword.  It had forged for them a new tribe from the frosted bones of the old.  What was three was now one but the soul of the three still shined in the one.