Twas the day of rememberance for the Great Gumba.
In Immortal years he was 40, in Mortal years he was 480.
The great warrior, sage was Middle aged, Hurumph!!!

The Red Prince and the Otter Queen had traveled to the great northron region to help celebrate with the Great Gumba, as well as the Star of David and his new consort, the insatiable, flaxon haired, warrior princess, known as:Kareen the tempest.

Ground Chuck and the Dark Laurie had also traveled a great distance to help the Gumba celebrate this milestone in history.
Nothing special was planned, feasting as usual, barrels of ale, and maybe some wenches. Or so the Gumba thought.

The Bard is wiley in her ways of mishcief and merryment making.
A grand feast had been planned, unbenounced to the Great Gumba, by his lovely Bard, to honor the Gumba and all he had done.
Many folk were invited, mortals and Immortals alike.
But that is another story.

The evening started well, royal libations were had by all, brought up to the Northron regions by the Red Prince.
Silky smooth scotch: The 12 year Stilmans Dram, 15 year old Balvenie, crafted by Elves in a cave, guarded by Ogres and cherished by only those who are brave enough to venture into the caves and face the evil, vile, snot laden creatures.

The Bard had asked the Lord Stephan, if all could stay at his castle in the Lands of Rock and Stone so as not to have to champion a chariot to Castle Catalano.

The band of Merrymakers left Lord Stephans Castle and made their way to the Wells of the Works of Water.
A handsome bunch, this group of merrymakers, The Great Gumba and Kerry the Bard, The Red Prince and the Otter Queen, The Star of David and his Consort, Ground Chuck and the Dark Laurie, all made their way to the Wells.

Dressed in raignments, no need for Mournblade or Tempest, for tonight was one of celebration, not war making.

Next: the Wells of the Works of Water.


So sayeth the Great White Sage of the Northron Regions.

Off the shores of the Great Northron Regions, the waves pound against some of the most ferocious rock bound shorelines in the world.
Foaming water, swirling wakes, rocks become sand over time, the cycle of nature takes its toll on all that inhabit here.

On one particular outcrop of rock, known as the shoal of lost souls, sits a large beacon, a light to warn weary sailors of impending doom.

This light is known all over the Great Northron Region as a place of fear and death, for once their was a Siren who would lure men and their ships to a watery demise.

Long golden hair, fair skin and a voice that sounded like the cooing of doves, such a Siren was no match for mortal men. Only the immortals could converse with such a creature safely.

The Great Gumba was not happy one day, not happy for any particular reason, he just was. So it just stood to reason that he should get into some mischief.

After a long swim, he ended up on the shoals of lost souls, waiting for the Siren to appear, for he had a plan.
He was tired of cleaning up the shoreline of broken boats and sailors remains, so he pondered, "If".

From out of nowhere, Posiden rose from the depths to great his great friend the immortal Gumba.
The Gumba told possiden that he had had enough of clutter and wanteds the Siren to leave his shoals, this cannot be, said possiden.

The Great Gumba growled and drew forth Mournblade, summoning all his great might he thrust Mournblade into the Shoals and Mournblade began to sing, for Mournblade was a keeper of souls, the darkest of all swords of the Immortals.

The ground swelled, the seas boiled and Mournblade glowed red from the heat.
Soon the wind whipped up and a great tempest arose, for all the souls that had been lost where now in the possesion of Mournblade.

From the water arose the Siren, Randee, both in name and spirit.
She sang her siren song, trying to regain all her lost souls, the Gumba roared and once again thrust Mournblade into the Shoals.
This time the Sirens song stopped, she shook, the water became still, the wind became calm, an eary light started to come from Mournblade and a bright beam shot out across the water, forever warning the sailors of the shoals.

The Siren, Randee, began to tremble as possiden once again rose from the sea.
Posiden said, Randee, you have lost all of the souls that once inhabited the shoal, a light now shines brightly to warn sailors of their impending doom.
You have no further purpose, I therefore turn you back to a Mortal and you shall forever guard and protect the light of the Shoals of Lost Souls.

Tis how the lighthouse wench became a legend.

So Sayeth the Great White Sage of the Northron Regions.