Relics

Unicorn Dander

Unsurprisingly, unicorn dander is one of the most coveted animal byproducts in Eem. Unicorns are considered mythic for both their majesticism and magic amongst common folk and faeries. However, amongst Goblins, the mysterious dander also represents perhaps the greatest hypocrisy in all of Boggartdom.

Goblins are not superstitious and strongly believe any sort of wizardry to be a cheap parlor tricks, that is, save for one particular instance: unicorn dander. Intriguingly, Goblins perceive unicorn dander to have mystic properties, to the point that there are entire underground movements driven by the sole focus of gathering and marketing the substance, with the same fervor one would apply to hunting the most valuable gems in the deepest caverns of Shar.

Many of the most accomplished Goblin bureaucrats, reigning supreme beneath the crumbling world of the Dungeon Era, believe staunchly in the power of unicorn dander. And these beliefs are ludicrously variant and silly. Anything use for unicorn dander one could imagine has been applied in some fashion–generally by knobby, Goblin misers. Some machinations include applying unicorn dander to mortar, specifically to activate the perfect building material for endless underground lair-building. Adjacently, its believe that  when applied to oiling tar, unicorn dander will exponentially strengthen tar into a steel-like solid used as a pliable, easy to apply substitute for fortified walls. But in other cases, the dander is mixed directly into metallurgic recipes as a method to bond to impurities and eliminate the brittleness of any metal–thusly making the material as bendy and pliable as a river reed.

In terms of medicine, Goblin applications get even stranger. One such example is that of the Great Miser, Fat Forgweth the Goblin Lord of the Middle-Route Maw. Now, Fat Forgweth was at one point the richest Goblin in Eem, lording over the great tunnel network that lies just beneath the Middle-Route Run, wherein Boggart rail-networks move building materials from the Used T’Be Forest all the way to the southernmost Mucklands. Wealth and power were at his fingertips as readily as his favorite sack wine, but his obesity was becoming a problem and his Boggle ‘heaver-gaggle’ were no longer capable of lifting him. In a desperate attempt to lose weight, Forgweth scoured the land for unicorn dander and applied it to every meal in the form of a soggy mash. However, after about a hundred helpings on his first day, Forgweth began showing bizarre symptoms and mutations. By day’s end, the Great Miser had sprouted flowers from his head, roots from his toes, and howled for more and more wine. That night, in a maddening race, his trusted Boggles planted their transmogrifying master into a small garden, where by morning he’d grown into a dagger-tongued, and most disastrously vocal fruit tree.

The Sword of Egbrite Jack

A Bogril Junkmonger likely doesn’t know the tale of Egbrite Jack. And if he did, he’d think nothing of the possibility that those stories were real. Amongst the ordinary rural peoples of the Middle Kingdoms, Egbrite Jack and his sword are simply elements of the peasant-hero’s folktale. But in the realest or realities, the stories are indubitably, unequivocally, and most remarkably true.

Egbrite Jack was an unassuming pumpkin farmer who found a sparkling sword in a muddy trench sometime, long ago. It was another time then, not of road bandits and brigands, but of hexes and curses, and a spectral strangeness that blanketed the world in uncertainty and terror. Folk like Jack simply made do and made sure to lock themselves away at night for fear of ghosts and gremlins, spirits and sprites. But on that fateful day, old Egbrite Jack found something special in his field and decided to trek ten thousand miles, and offer it to his Queen. That’s where his stories begin.

On his first night on the road, Jack was accosted by a devil, a gangly sharp-toothed brute who tried to steal Jack’s sparkling sword. But Egbrite Jack would have nothing of it, and challenged the creature to a duel of dice. If Jack rolled ‘even’ he’d lose the sword. But if Jack rolled ‘odd’ the creature could never steal, loot, scare, or menace anyone again. Jack rolled odd and went on his merry way, sparkling sword in hand.

One thousand treacherous nights followed and every night Jack was accosted by ghosts and gremlins, sprites and spirits, spooks and spectres, devils and demons–and every night he bested them and went on his merry way.

On the last day of his travels, old Egbrite Jack finally met the Queen. Lonely and beautiful, radiant and delighted to see the dusty, road-worn pumpkin farmer. As tribute, Jack offered her the sword, but she adamantly refused. Instead, she bid the humble farmer rise and take her hand as king, for his thousand nights on the road had rid all the world of terror and set the kingdom free.

Folk have told the stories of Egbrite Jack and his thousand nights on the haunted roads for generations. Elements of each fable weave a neat, moral tapestry for rearing children. The Sword of Egbrite Jack is often used as a symbol for courage. For if a people can muster a bit of courage, luck will always find them.

The Skull of Leef Lavyndar

Atop the liquor shelf at Wally’s Waffles and Weorgs sits a humble, unassuming skull of Leef Lavydar. Many surmise that it once belonged to a dread foe of Wallace the Freebooter King (ol’ Wally’s pirate alias from his younger days). Many more fail to even give it a second glance. But Wally…he peers up at that skull every morning. He gives it a long, pregnant salute. He says, “How’s the pond lookin’, matey?” And then he lards up the grill for another day of slinging waffles and weorgs.

Wally knew the moment it happened that he’d have to hang up the plank for good. One minute Leef Lavyndar was cracking wise, arguing over an errant dice throw in a high stakes game of Roogledeek, the next his head rolled down into the cargo hold, clean-cut decapitated by the assassins of Ulfrex the Cruel, Lord Marshal of Maax.

A bloody-handed battle atop the deck of The Scarlet Scallywagon claimed the lives of forty men. In the end, the assassins were drawn, quartered, and fed to the ivory-spotted octopi of Barnaby Bay. But knowing that Ulfrex would stop at nothing to retrieve his stolen treasure, Wally renounced his captaincy, forsook his beloved ship and all his worldly possessions (save the treasure), and carried the skull of his best friend and first mate Leef Lavyndar to the site of his new restaurant.