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#1 [en] 

The Legend of The Fyros Finger of Friendship

In the Ancient Lands, around the time of The Great Swarming, or a little before, or a little after, The Great Emperor Cerakos II ruled over all Fyros and perhaps a bit more.

One day, out riding for some important imperial reason now lost in time, His Eminence rounded a hillside and happened upon a small, ugly peasant boy who's name nobody remembers. The Boy was crying out, stumbling back, and fending off a huge, snapping kincher with nothing but a cheap, poorly designed sword such as you might find for sale in Fairhaven these days by uninformed junior crafters. There wasn't a second to lose, and Cerakos drew his great lance, spurred forward his mighty mektoub Marguerite and joined the fray, spilling the black ichor of the insectoid monster and dispatching its blacker soul to depths of Atys from whence it crawled.

But alas - a single finger from the left hand of The Emperor of the Fyros lay severed on the battlefield beside a stinking kincher pancreas. The finger had been struck from its royal hand by the razor sharp front legs of the deadly ( and now dead ) foe. The Boy, now more terrified than ever, prostrated himself before his vastly superior superior, lamenting inconsolably that his entire stupid life was not worthy of even half a finger of his sovereign. Not even the stuff under one of the royal fingernails ... and so on you get the picture.

The Indomitable Emperor had gone a bit white and shaky and was binding his spurting wound, letting out a tiny wimper that the Boy certainly did not hear nor ever mention again. Cerakos gritted his teeth and said to the trembling child, "Hey. Stop that. Stand up, small ugly boy! Be proud! It was an honor to fight by your side, for you are my kinsman. We are Fyros, you and I. We all must make sacrifices to protect our great people. Be we Kings like myself or the unwashed greasy offspring of dung resin harvesters like yourself. Never forget that." And then, less than two minutes after he had arrived, The Great Emporer Cerakos II had mounted massive Marguerite and was thundering away, leaving only magnificence and his Imperial Finger in his wake.

Yes, it was still there beside the pancreas. Cerakos II was a busy and pragmatic guy and had decided he had no further use for it. Shocked and amazed, the Boy took it and staggered back to his family hovel. There, his small, ugly parents, hearing the incredible story, reverently preserved the bisected digit in the most excellent, most clear, least pungent dung resin they could harvest and set it in a shrine above their meager hearth. ( It was hardly even a hearth. More like a small charcoal hibachi. ) Every night, the Boy touched The Finger to his forehead in deep gratitude, love, and fealty to The Emporer who had saved his small, ugly, dung-resin-smelling life.

For his part, Great Emperor Cerakos II never once regretted losing his Finger to save the Boy. In fact he often thought of the Boy fondly after that, wondering how he fared, wishing him and his family safety during the horrors of The Swarming, which were happening sometime around this story I am sure. And although they never met again even once, The Emperor and the Boy each felt a strong bond of friendship towards the other ever after. And isn't that interesting?

But there is something even more interesting: Such was the nobility of the words of The Emperor to the Boy, and such was the profound adoration of the Boy to the Emperor, that Ma-Duk, The Life Giver, sanctified The Finger ten years later. Sanctified it real good. Ma-Duk decreed that if given in friendship, The Finger shall bless the giver with happiness, whosoever they shall be. And on that day the Boy, now a small, ugly man, honored his Emperor one last time by giving away his most prized possession to a small, ugly friend, and received The First Blessing. And the friend passed it on, and on again, and for this reason the name of the Boy has become lost to us. The Finger belonged to other people after that and many, many homins have held it since then.

( Some continue this tale by mentioning that the relic was eventually passed back to Cerakos II's son Dexton, and was then brazenly stolen by none other than the Specialist Bandit during the migration to Silan! These are urban legends of the most callous sort, containing not a grain of truth! Throw your drink at whoever tries to tell you such nonsense. )

The real story ends here. But is it true? You don't look super convinced. Is The Fyros Finger of Friendship real? Is it still out there?

Yes! Yes yes yes! I personally know this to be true, for I have been given it, held it, smelled the sweet excellent dung resin, and passed it on. I have gloried in the divine happiness bestowed upon me from the Powers of Atys, despised marauder that I am. And perhaps one day you too will be lucky enough to hold this treasure in your own hands, be they small and ugly or royal. If so, give it again in your turn, in the name of friendship, and be blessed.

Author's note: Due to the demand for religious artifacts among the devoutly gullible, it is not uncommon to find fake FFoF's on sale at various cheap hawkers around Atys. These have no efficacy of course, they emit no aura of majestic contentment about them at all. In fact such baubles are usually just short, squishy lumper whiskers encased in basic dung resin of the smelliest sort q30 or lower. Furthermore if every hawker were telling the truth, Emperor Cerakos II's left hand started life with a great many more fingers on it than is common for any of today's homins' left hands.


Edited 2 times | Last edited by Jorgensen (1 month ago)

Last visit Thu Apr 25 05:55:07 2019 UTC

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