Athm

When we speak of Alara, we should speak of Athm, and his quaint, bestselling novel, The Man at the End of the World.

 

There is a man in Legends history named Estin Botign. He single-handedly advanced technology by two ages. Most ancient ruins that are ridiculously advanced were either designed by him, or were built using technology that he designed. In terms of contribution to the universe, this Emloy is the bastard great grandson of Athm’s second cousin’s dog. What Estin did to technology, Athm did for philosophy a million times over. People built on Estin’s discoveries. The universe is still trying to catch up to Athm. His texts were so rich and multifaceted, they are still being decoded today. Authority level philosophy classes teach what they believe to be Athm’s meaning from his texts. He was a poet, a philosopher, and a mystery.

 

You see, Athm lived for a few million years. He was active for maybe seven hundred of them. For the rest, he was just gone. He would appear one day, stick around for a span, and then leave a letter saying goodbye to everyone he knew and had befriended, then leave instructions for the care of his estate. It would be millenia between his appearances, and he would always seem confused - like he was always confounded by the changes between his appearances. But to others, it was as if Euclid, Pythagoras, Aristotle, Isaac Newton, and Albert Einstein were all the same person, who just kept popping in and out with literal ages between - “Oh, hey guys! Oh, nice, you’re doing really well with those triangles I gave you, but, oh, that’s wrong, that’s wrong, and that’s wrong too, also, let me tell you about this gravity thing I figured out in the shower this morning.” He was a force of nature. He was beyond brilliant. He would write out texts ages in advance, then refuse to give them to people, because “you won’t understand it yet, a step at a time, okay?” Which is a little ironic, because his biggest flaw was famously how impatient he was. He couldn’t wait for anything. He hated sitting idle. It made the teachers at Valiant furious.

 

He graduated from Valiant, though, that wasn’t actually what trained him. He was actually the lowest ranked person in his graduating class, as he famously spent all his time there in… other ways. Self studies. Mostly in comparative male anatomy, human and beverage chemistry, night time partner aerobics, and competing in the men’s bedwrestling league, intramural and intercollegiate when he could manage it.

 

By all accounts, like an apple to Newton’s head, the moment that changed him from the rank and file of Valiant to Legend, the Scribe in the Stars, was at a cobbler’s shop in a little nowhere town. He locked eyes with the young master of the humble shop, and fell in love. They met sometime near noon. They were at a restaurant while the sun was still far from the horizon. And before the sun had even set, they were lying in the bed in the small apartment over the cobbler’s store. But Athm couldn’t sleep. His mind was on fire. His head was full of this man. He felt things, deep and endless things. What could he do? He was no musician. He was no playwright. But he knew words - many words. They were the one thing he had. They were the one thing he had left Valiant with: a deep understanding of language, and a thesaurus for a mind. So, staring at the ceiling, he got out of bed, grabbed a pen and paper, and he wrote his first poem, then his second. He knew so many words! None were enough.

 

You see, there was something different about Athm, something important. He didn’t just feel things. He could understand them. And with the right words, he could outdo every single musician, every last playwright. With the right words, he could nail love to paper, and he did. But not in quite the right way. He tried language after language, but none were built for this. So he, impatient as he was, built his own. He defined love, he emboldened every line, highlighted every corner, spoke every edge and drew the very shape of a concept every single artist had beaten their head against. That castle that every philosopher had laid siege to, battered its walls and built ladders to climb, and all of them failing, he had walked through the front door and turned, and threw its doors wide. He walked every hall, every room, and he had drawn a map. It was some time later that he became a legend, but from then on he realized something. He understood the shape of the world. Where others would throw together think tanks to try and predict a legend’s course of action, he could feel the shape of their heart. He could see why things were. He could see what things were. And he noticed something. They could name a legend when they rose; they could give a name to their power - to them - but they could not explain them. There is something important you have to remember: to become a legend, you must do something you cannot do normally. But Alara can do anything. There is no impetus he could achieve. He couldn’t become a legend. He’s not the only one. Hell, Arawn was in the same boat. But Athm didn’t like this. He wanted to make things the way they should be. So, many years later, in the outdoor seating of his favorite cafe, he sat across from the creator of the universe and handed him a book. The title of the book was The Man at the End of the World. And it was him. It was Alara. It was his power. And the next day, from the high tower of Houtarn, the high priest of Drakk stood and pronounced the name of a legend. Alara.

Athm set about writing for others. He took every legend, saw their whole power, and nailed them to the page, even those long dead. The next time he vanished, when he reappeared, it was as the high priest of Drakk, and after his tenure, the priests have had the power to nail legends to a page. And then, a few comings later, when he left, his manor was aflame. They tried to put it out. They tried to save the library. The texts he had yet even to give them, and while they saved some, many were lost. They searched everywhere, but there was no note, no letter, no goodbye - nothing. But neither was there a body. Athm has not been seen since. He just vanished, along with most of the knowledge he had yet to teach. But people still hope, one day, he may appear again.