"Mama, I'm tired," a little brahmaur said to her mother. They were not alone. Four other mothers walked with their older daughters and little ones. The older sons walked with their fathers. All but the little ones had daggers sheathed on their belts. The fathers all carried axes in one hand and rested the hafts on a broad shoulder. They keep a close watch for danger as their hooves, which had last walked this path when they were little brahmaur, guided their way without a single mistep.
"I know," the mother soothed her tired child with a gentle pat between her button knobs that would someday sprout into horns. "You will get plenty of rest when we get there."
"But where are we going?" the little brahmaur asked for the tenth time.
Her mother sighed long, digging deep for patience. A lyrical bellow of welcome carried from far ahead, stopping her explaining yet again. The four fathers all bellowed an answer and were quickly joined by the mothers. When everyone had gone quiet, the mother looked down at her little daughter.
She smiled and flicked an ear against one of her horns, making the little brahmaur girl giggle.
"We have reached the Valley of Salvation."
Valley Unknown
In Brahmaur history, the Days of Legend is that time when the god T'Ar taught them the way to keep their demond blood asleep thus saving them from being near beastial brutes as other minotaurs are. For generations the Brahmaur grew from a fragile number until they filled the valley. When they numbered enough, whole herds would leave the valley to build new towns.
Every twenty years, these brahmaur would return to the valley on a pilgrimage with their children. Over time, they came to call it the Valley of Salvation.
The Treaty Tree
The Valley of Salvation did not stay hidden and unknown forever. Three thousand years ago, the dwarves dug their way out through solid rock following a vein of rock iron. They were shocked to find themselves in a town of minotaurs. Not wanting savages at their back door, the dwarves attacked.
The fighting was fierce as both sides believed they were defending their homes. The dwarves fought hard but were slowly losing as the rune amgics built into their weapons had no affect on the brahmaur. This caused the dwarven runemasters and the clerics to frantically find out why. Through prayers, the clerics discovered that these minotaurs were the people of the god T'Ar and not the usual vile and brutal minotaurs they had always fought before.
Doubting this yet willing to test this astonishing discovery, the dwarves called a truce. They were impressed that these minotaurs honored the truce and came to negotiate undert he tallest tree in the valley, an old bristlecone pine on a windy slope. It was there under that tree that a treaty was forged and signed. Peace still stands between the dwarves, who have since moved on from that "outpost mine" they gave to the brahmaur after teaching them mining and smithing.
To this day the Treaty Tree stands cared for by the Brahmaur as it is almost as revered as the god T;Ar himself.
Comments