Drata's Anvil

Friends and siblings, fellow artisans, it warms my heart to see all of you gathered here. With your kind permission, I would like to open this council with the traditional telling of the Tale of Drata’s Anvil.

“Many generations ago, our people were wanderers. They lived by drinking the sap of the arid roots, and by eating the small creatures of the plateaus. When those scarce resources were gone, they moved on. Nothing was permanent. Houses, clothing and tools were crude and were not built with the skills and materials to last more than a few migrations. The older tribesmen were used to this way of life and could not consider much more than this harsh condition. However, three of the youths wanted a life built on stone, not on shifting dust.

“They huddled in their tent around a small fire and discussed between themselves how it could be done, but they had little optimism. Nothing could anchor their families and their people to one particular place, or so they believed. In the embers of the fire appeared Drata, goddess of the hearth. She smiled a strong, warm smile. She, too, yearned to provide stability to her chosen people, so that they might have a permanent hearth and a warmer community. She had only breathe air to the embers in the youths’ hearts, and this flame would rise.

“She told the gathered three that she would bring to the ground a powerful star, creating a mighty object that would anchor their people to the land. However, to avoid striking the tribe itself, she would bring the star down several dekants away. They would need only follow her sacred animal, the crafty fox. Drata had done all she could; the stalwarts would have to convince the tribe to travel there.

“There was a renewed fire in the youth’s hearts, but the tribe and the council would not be easily swayed. As day bled into twilight and twilight faded into darkness, they crafted a plan. The tribe of wanderers had no formal leader, but there were people that inspired respect. Among those were a mighty wrestler, a talented hidestitcher, and a keen tracker. If each could be turned, the rest of the people would follow.

“The first youth, Galda, set out to best the strong champion. They convened to wrestle at noon, in a flat stretch of the mesa. The youth was lithe and agile, but had not enough raw strength to dominate the experienced scrapper. As they prepared to face each other, the youth noticed a fox taking a dust bath, twisting and turning in the sand. When the pair fought, Galda adopted the unpredictable twisting motions of the fox, and so evaded her larger opponent’s grasp. She used this advantage to subdue her opponent, using agility and wit to overcome strength. The wrestler admitted defeat, and pledged to support the cause.

“Arata, the second youth, took upon himself to challenge the hidestitcher. He offered to craft the stitcher shoes for the voyage. The stitcher scoffed and said that if Arata could even create shoes worthy of the name, she would agree to the journey. He suddenly despaired, for though he had some knowledge of hidework, he had no hides to work with. Then, from the outskirts, came three foxes, each bearing a freshly slain jackrabbit. Their hides were pristine. Arata immediately began work, and within two days he had created a durable pair of moccasins. The stitcher had to recognize their value, so she donned them and pledged herself to the cause.

“Finally, Farik, the youngest of the group, went to speak to the tribe’s tracker. The tracker was incredibly skilled, and had hearing and smell beyond compare. However, he was quite old, and had poor eyesight. Farik had the keen vision shared by the young and the determined. The tracker chuckled at the proposal that the tribe should travel with the youth, but Farik knew his confidence could be used. If she could find a weakness in the tracker’s expertise, she proposed, he would come with them. He agreed to this challenge. Farik smiled, and nodded to a small, light fox who had been padding around the tracker. She explained that the fox had been there throughout their conversation. Its small size and impressive dexterity made it silent, and its camouflage made it near-invisible to the old man. The tracker laughed at the clever nature of Farik and her fox, and pledged himself to the cause.

“With these three leading figures swayed, the rest of the tribe soon followed. The five foxes, the three youths, and the three elders led the way. After only a few days, the tribe arrived at their destination. Before them was a massive crater carved into the mesa, and in the center of that crater was a large black stone. Taller than any tribe member, the stone was covered in dimples of all sizes. The travelers were struck by awe. Then, Drata spoke to them.

“The crater would shield the tribe’s buildings from the wind, and those buildings would shield the tribe from the sun. It was large enough to fit every family comfortably. The stone itself was the fallen star of which she had spoken. It was hard and strong, and of such a shape that it could be used as an anvil. There, the tribe would learn metalwork, and so create durable tools that could be passed on through generations. Most importantly, they would light a hearth, and keep it lit, always. Through that eternal flame, Drata could speak to her people, and teach them all she knew. She smiled a strong, warm smile, and the tribe did too, for they knew they had done right.”

In this way, our people were given Drata’s Anvil, and in this way we grew beyond our nomadic roots and became the skilled and dedicated artisans we are today. I thank my ancestors, I thank Drata and the desert fox, and I thank you, my friends and siblings.