A Taste of Lilac

This story details the time that the Silver Fox and Ashan Monkei poisoned the wine of the Great Asphyx; rendering them drunk and drugged by the potent effects of Callowpine. In the midst of their stupor, their careful crafting of the riverways of Jain turned into a chaotic mess of destruction as they struggled to come to terms with their delusions; creating the vast delta that spans the Ibomba and leaving a wake of devastation behind.   Both the Silver Fox and Ashan Monkei delighted at the beauty of this creation, until they witnessed the horror that befell those living nearby. It became a fable of sorts, particulary within Jain - warning both against the dangers of novelty for its own sake - and of the dangers of resisting progress once it has begun.

The truth of the story is murky at best, for though the great Delta of the Ibomba does clearly exist, its sudden origin millenia ago is disputed. Some cultures blame the Maw in its endless hunt for the Lonely Heart, while others merely posit the gradual shift of the earth as to the creation of the river runs of the desert. What is certain is that once the Ibomba was only red sand and glass, and then it changed - the resulting movement of the earth apathetic to the arguments of those who dwell upon it.   Evidence persists, however, as to the myth in the form of strange scales that can be found throughout the waters - emerald and pristine and belonging to no known creature upon the continent. Others point to the favour that Callowpine has amongst the followers of the Monkei and Fox, though this could purely be that those who walk after the Phantom and the Fool enjoy the delerious effects of the strange lilac wine.

A Taste of Lilac is a story of particular note within the city of Jain, serving often as a common parable and tavern story within the great city walls and amongst the enclave traders on the shore. Often lines quoted from the poem itself as a means to reinforce a point, having become in many ways a series of idioms throughout the region. As such, it has travelled across the Ashuran Ocean to the distant ports of Tol Baldir, where it is treated as litte more than a fanciful tale of strange lands and stranger folk.   To the East of Jain however, where the Great Ibomba is a more real element of the people's lives, the story takes on a more literal interpretation. Here, the snakes rule alongside men, and the story continues past its most usual ending. These secret passages are kept only by those who whisper in hiss and rattle, and they lay claim to routes through the desert that only they can follow.

The story of the Silver Fox and the Ashan Monkei has stayed, in essence, true to its roots. The actors, however, have merged and morphed - from the Tricksy One and their willful ways and their taunting of the Maw, to the mad antics of Iris Mannan and even the Knight of Rout. In many ways this is part of the Tragedy of the Silver Fox, for their story has been plagued with falsehood and deceit, their very nature warped before their eyes as the once pleasant Phantom is turned into a blood-drenched wraith.   Further passages have been added over the years, new versions created that lend themselves to the mystery and mystique. Amongst the Nagan especially, countless variations have been cobbled together from the secrets they have gleaned from the scales of their serpent kin, eked out and treasured for the mystery and promises they provide. Stranger still is the version of the tale told in the far distant Isola - where the Genewyrds speak in the tongue of Body and Soul - lensing the myth through the vital coil that defines all living creatures in a lattice web of primal existence.

In the land of its birth, the tale serves as a cautionary tale, a fable passed and shared to amused laughter and knowing smiles, ironically heard over cups of the very liquor that led to its creation. The tribes of the Idan pay much credence to it, and to a more literal truth, that Callowpine is a source of dream and inspiration, of destruction and delusion. The latter part of the message rarely makes it past the desert however, for Callowpine is adored across the continent and even further, and its abuse is notorious amongst those who can afford it.   To the Nagan, it is one of many stories that defines a culture defined by the tales they tell. In particular amongst the Travellers and the Wend, it is a tale told of literal truth, not just a warning but a map across the Ibomba that can be parsed through its verses and rhymes. Though not one of their most prized collections, there are none who have not been impacted by the knowledge unearthed, or added to the myth throughout its history.   Far from here however, and distant from the vast desert, it serves as little more than entertainment - especially in Baldir where sailor sell the story for a round of drinks as they embellish and add oddities to enamour the crowd hanging on every spoken word. Creation myths like these are not common in Amilyn, and their novelty is inspiring, and has started its own artistic movement to the chagrin of the more stoic and resentful listeners.