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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another wonderful story by Elgarion De’Kahli. It is the first in a series, and is entitled

The Founding of Kahli
Background music is by Smartsound.

4201 Years Before The Cataclysm…
On Moonandai, the 2nd of Apru, the Month of the Farmer, the Life-Giving Season of Strength, in the Waking Dawn, a location was Founded

Kahli, the Wanderer. The White Nomad. The Devout One. The White Acolyte of Artenius. Kahli, the White Mage of the Vale. The Robed Wanderer. So many names… so many untold tales… Kahli, in plain terms, was a sorcerer. He was a devout follower of Artenius, the Seventh Son of the Original Touch, of the now so-called Seventh Son of The Weeping Seven. Little is known of why Kahli the White Mage roamed for so long through the lands of the Vale. Some believed the White Nomad’s travels from village to village which brought the tender touch of Healing, were purely motivated by his devotions to his patron deity. Others believed Kahli was in flight from the forces of Chaos and the acolytes of Larmenius the Sixth Son; oft were they nipping at The Devout One’s heels with presumably evil intent.

Most commonly though, Kahli’s wanderings were accredited to a quest. Kahli, the White Mage of the Vale possessed a fate which was intertwined into a fabric woven from the lifelines of many. With each passing village, it was not uncommon for peasants and lords alike to leave behind their self-serving lives and to assist with the White Mage’s endeavors. Through the passing years, the Robed Wanderer had accumulated quite the following. Oft these devoted ones accompanied the ancient mage, but these devout also took their own paths; oddly, they also seemed to seek an elusive truth.

But upon a year ancient and nearly forgotten, four thousand and some centuries before the Great Cataclysm, the faithful and the Wanderer himself amassed at the northern feet of the Bone Spires. Presumably, there lay what they sought. Why there? To this day it is still a mystery. There is accounting for it being a bountiful land, a simple and practical reason, no doubt. Others account for the powerful lay lines which adjoin in this mystical valley. Another theory being merely the resting place of Kahli himself, having finally passed away here during the final days of wander lust. But a query common to the inquisitive peoples of the Vale, why such long-lived effort was taken to meet in such a place if not for a greater purpose?

The most fabled and documented of accountings was this: As the followers of Kahli made a circle around the aged wizard, beneath the cooling shadow of the Bone Spires and invigorating breeze skirting the surface of the Shimmering Lake, they began to chant. None amongst them were spell singers… these enchanted enunciations were unfamiliar to even themselves. The divine song of Artenius, perhaps? A grand spell they did weave, earth shaking and glorifying to those within its tendrils. A bright fog of magic swirled about the White Acolyte of Artenius, surely fed from the words laced in netherlike energies that danced from the lips of the devout. The ethereal mist became dense… and as it parted, a tiny sapling had sprouted in the place of Kahli, the man. And Kahli, the man, was no more. The White Mage of the Vale left a gift for those seeking a life in pursuit of a perfect Order. Kahli, the Wanderer’s destiny had come and passed. His final purpose fulfilled. From the moment his essence transformed, the Devout of Kahli began a new quest–to build a city of beauty and elegance and perfection. Within its walls, Order reigned. Love… Truth… Courage were the cornerstones whilst Order was the keystone to this society of true believers. As hovels became keeps… paths became cobbled streets… the City of Kahli flourished around this once tiny yet immortal sapling. Kahli, the Wanderer had come home, never to leave… roots now binding his soul to this magical land. The sapling would grow eternal as it fed from the love of its peoples. The city of Kahli would flourish under The Devout One’s nurturing shade. As each twig became branch, the loving roots stretched beneath every home and touched gently beneath the foot of every citizen.