Ancient tales
tell of a time before much of our land was discovered. A time when the bravest
of tribes would set sail to explore and discover new worlds. A time of
adventure and risk, of pain and joy.
One such
sect, as recalled in the great book of Lamnes Cumfuld, was the Dextairous. This
group would build mighty rowing boats to explore the seas that surrounded them.
Under their leader Camronest they set off on many voyages to claim new lands.
Unfortunately a profound weakness in them meant little success for the entire
clan was right handed and could only row on one side of their boats. As a
result they would set off full of hope and high ambition only to, unnoticed by
them, merely circle their land.
A combination
of stupidity and hope would see them land on their own shores where they would
lay claim to the ground and celebrate. Exploration parties would be sent off to
map their new kingdom. Soon they would stumble on a village not dissimilar to
their own, indeed not dissimilar at all as it was their own village. Often they
would attack it only to find they were fighting their own families.
But one in
the village was different. One man stood apart. Jarek Sinestrada had been born
different to the others. His strange loping gait had marked him out as odd to
his family and the rest of the clan from an early age. As he matured it became
clearer, he was left handed.
When they set
off the explore Jarek would sit on the other side of the boat and row. Now
thirty rowers on one side and one on the other made little difference to the
direction of the vessel. Camronest and his crew would ridicule Jarek and soon
this turned to hate. A hate so strong that on the very eve of The Feast of
Garcencher Jarek was taken to a small boat, given a paddle and shunned from the
clan.
Bravely Jarek
began to row away from the island. As he began to strike out the people looked
on in awe and wonder as the boat headed in an entirely new direction. The
villagers looked at Camronest and realised that they had been fools to not listen
to Jarek. Soon they began to chant in support as Jarek’s mighty arms forced the
boat through the high waves to new seas.
They even
began to call him a new name, ‘Jarek the Oresemen’. As dusk began to fall and
his boat was just a tiny speck in the distance the villagers went back to
celebrate Garcencher. All they could talk about was Jarek the Oresemen and what
he might find in a new land
Days later
Jarek, tired, exhausted and hungry, brought his boat to rest upon a sandy white
beach. He fell upon the shore and slept.
Meanwhile his
own tribe had decided that Jarek the Oresemen was a true leader. He had asked
them to question what they did and what was right. Just because you had always
done something one way did not mean you couldn’t change. Camronest was thrown
out and new leader elected who promised to be more open to new ideas.
When Jarek
had recovered his strength he decided to explore his new found land. For days
he walked until, with his food and water almost gone, he saw in the distance,
smoke from a fire. Forcing himself forwards, his body cut and bleeding from the
rocks and branches, he stumbled into an opening.
For the
villagers he was an astonishing sight. Wild hair, bloody skin and wild eyes. He
tried to speak but his throat was too dry and all he could do was let out a
gutteral screech.
As one, the
villagers lifted their arms and pelted him to death with stones. It was only as
they dragged the lifeless body to their square that Camronest let the smallest
smile fall upon his face.
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