The
Shaper
Between the moor and the meadhalls, I creep up the small stream.
I sit at night and listen to the stories of man. Boasts!
Brandishments! And yet there is one that grabs me. He is the
Shaper. He shapes the world with his tales. Untrue! Untrue! The
realities he creates are false! And yet he draws me in. I cannot
help but listen... and believe. I weep at his tales of the tragic.
Feel proud of his boasts of the King’s false deeds. Baahh! Why is
it so? How does he reshape the world with mere words? But he does.
He tells me to fly, I fly. He tells me of death, I become it. He
travels the mead houses and tells his lies... but they are truths.
He tells of my evil ways, I repent, and throw myself at the feet of
a passing sentry, but the man will not listen. The man wishes to
slay me. I break his bones and toss him aside, and repent my
repentance. It is the Shapers’ fault. I wished repentance, but
there is no mercy for me.
If you hunt my prize do not come too early nor at night. They
guard it well after the hour of 5. They close their gates. And
besides... I may be lurking there, listening to the Shaper's tales,
and who is to say what world he will have created for me.
The prize is small, but not too much so. It holds a log page,
and an image of the Shaper which is to travel about acquiring tales
of Creation. It is green in color an about 2.5" by maybe 4". Reseal
it well. It is hidden where I did not put it, but works well
enough. It is within easy reach, but you must look. The Skyseeker
tells more lies than the shaper.