(Breaking this into two pieces, because walls of even well written exposition, get a bit tiresome.)
A story jotted down as it was being told by a street side performer, a storyteller, who was working for coins. I have noted a few variations on this tale, but this will suffice for the basic telling. Maybe we should do a series of short articles on town history from the bottom looking up?- Johann Blinks, Five Towers Reports
(Reporter notes: This storyteller I see around town a lot. He is doing well enough to have second hand nice robes of the sort that some Wizards and Wonder-Makers wear, and lives for days or weeks at inns, who's courtyards are his stages. Following a certain odd storyteller tradition he is swathed in pale cotton and doesn't show his face save for his eyes, which are a sort reddish brown. He also gives no name for himself, though his trinkets and robes are enough to tell him from others of his ilk. If you encounter such mendicant storytellers DO NOT call them beggars. Note: Ask professor of Minno of the Anthropology department if he has any insight into this practice of dress/namelessness/wandering.)
"There are those who would tell you that all old stories are lies. They are fools and we will waste no more time speaking of them.
Then there are those that say that every old story is important for it speaks of the teller and the listener as much as it does of ancient matters. These are scholars of much learning, but to listen to them speaking for too long makes the ear unable to hear. Who is the fool in that case, I will leave you to decide.
But there are those who know more than fools and scholar who will say that the ancient word are true, if you know how to listen. These are the wise..."
Called one of the Wonders of the World, the Five Towers School of Wizardry is the most famous educational edifice in the known world. It lies at the heart of the city of Five Towers, but there is much more going on in this city than the mere education of the daring, but you must understand, that the Towers are central to understanding the city.
According to the lore the Towers predate any other settlement in the Emerald Peninsula, a place of inhospitable climate and terrain, not very conducive to every day life without a lot of effort.... or a lot of magic.
Half a millennium ago a flotilla of daring sea captains, at the urging of both filling of their coffers and the maintaining of their lives, made a perilous journey across the Gulf of Storms to the Bay of Crystal. The Gulf, always storm tossed and dangerous was, as it still is a domain for hurricanes and sea monsters, and the Bay of Crystal had no settlements worth visiting, so even the terrain of the shore line was somewhat a mystery tot he captains and helmsmen of the voyage.
The voyagers hailed forth from the southern point of what is now the Imperial Domain of World End, though at the time the reach of the Iron Empire didn't stretch so far. Perhaps it was fear or at least a healthy caution of that growing power that inspired the voyage. If so that is lost to time, but was said to be in the age of the mythic first Emperor Geoff the Conqueror, who though a devoted man who venerated God, his Angels, and Saints, was no friend to wizards and wonderworkers.
Through magic and very fortunate timing, gleaned from many years of observation, the ships, containing a cabal of wizards, of the kind called Chanters, and their retinue arrived at the calm Bay of Crystal and dropped anchor within sight the many rivers that pours from the peninsula into that bay. The ships couldn't get closer because there were deep keeled vessels, but they had aboard barges to take the Chanters to their desired destination.
After a consultation the Wizards reported a specific river, now known as the Chanters Gate, to carry them inland. The Bay was calm as glass that day, whether from magic or simple good fortune, and wizards, body guards, experienced woodsmen, and supplies were loaded on three barges rigged for crude sailing. Mage winds carried the barges to the silty mouth of the river, and then the long hard work of poling up stream of the semi placid river began.
As soon as they entered the river the Chanters, the full number of which is unknown, began to Chant sonorous and sibilant words that seem to match the mood of the river well. The poling was long work, and many was the time some vegetation snagged a barge and skilled men had to hack and pole to keep the company in motion. All the while the Chanters chanted, some of the time their chant was as one unified chorus, and other like a group of babblers whose voices bounced off of each other and was displeasing to the ear.
As the slow miles passed, one at a time the wizards ceased their chanting save for the leader of the Order, was and still is known only as the Nameless One. He continued to speak words of power that were so intense that they seemed to vibrate in the air for long moments after his mouth had moved on.
As the party reached sharp curve of the river accompanied by a slightly hilled clearing in the swamp the Nameless made a gesture with his hand which was the signal to ground the barges. As soon as he stepped foot on dry land he stopped his constant droning chant. Though the magics that were being performed had sapped all others of the Order the Nameless' soft spoken voice still carried strength.
As the barges were unloaded the wizards rested on the high ground, while well trained lackies removed ritual tools such as incense burners, wooden staves of great length, bundles of herbs, and shrouded idols from the barges and arranged them hither and thither around the clearing. As the sun was setting, a mass of dark clouds began to form from the west, but a single sharp word from the Nameless scattered those clouds. There would be no interference from nature or Angel in the work that was to be done that night.