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This month's story is by Yeld co-creator Nick Smith. The first part of The Fairyland Journals takes us deep into one of Yeld's most mysterious places, and explores a little known part of Yeld's history!
The Fairyland Journals, part 1
Forward
Hello, inquisitive citizen of Yeld, my name is Ruberto Honni. I am the 3rd Cardinal at the Royal Academy for Mystical Studies and a seasoned instructor of both Blue Magic and Historical Arcana. I have spent decades as the Academy’s official Keeper of Histories and proudly speak more dead languages than any other living soul across the Kingdom and beyond. My credentials are impressive, but I only state them to express the importance of my work and the work of a dozen very dedicated students who helped in the translation of this groundbreaking document.
The journal entries below belonged to a young Fairy of the Ancient Tribes, dating back approximately thirty seven hundred years ago. These journal entries are some of the most detailed and (hopefully) accurate descriptions of both the Fairylands and the natives who inhabit them that we’ve ever seen. Too long have the people of Yeld known so little about our neighboring lands, and despite the objections from some of our Fairy colleagues and direct legal threats from the Kingdom’s courts, we have chosen to publish anyway. In order to accommodate the volume in which we are printing (and provide additional time for translation), we have broken the journal into multiple parts and will try to release one part each season until the story has been told or the Kingdom shuts us down. We believe everyone deserves to know the truth, however strange it may be.
Our future will remain uncertain, but only if we continue to ignore the past.
- 3rd Cardinal Ruberto Honni
*Translator’s Notes
The ancient language this journal is written in dates back thousands of years. It was originally spoken by the Yul’Gunga, or what we might now think of as Proto-Fairies, before their exile to the Fairylands and subsequent return to Yeld. Yul’Gunga is both the name of a people and the language they spoke. The Yul’Gunga language seems to be a combination of several once independent languages that were combined and changed as the Ancient Tribes absorbed or split off from one another. The language commonly uses contractions to combine two or more words from different Tribes that have the same or similar meaning. Even the name, Yul’Gunga, seems to be a contraction of a separate contraction of four other already contracted words. It is impossible to translate in a way that makes any grammatical sense to us. Interestingly, the early King’s People borrowed the word “Yeld” from the Yul’Gunga as a name for their new kingdom. But in the ancient language, Nog’Dala Ya’Eld’ was the name of the world, not just the continent, and (very) roughly translates to “Garden of Doomed Wardens” or “Beautiful Land of the Apocalypse”.
Additionally, the word “Bru’Gudi’Yen” is used in the text multiple times and is the Yul’Gunga word for Witch. No one would think less of any reader who chooses not to say this word out loud. We here at the Academy avoided it as best as possible. Good luck, reader.
- Royal Academy Translation Team
Warning!
This journal belongs to Sach’Ka. Its contents are private. Only the legendary warrior who slays me may read these entries and know my most personal thoughts. I also request that my slayer take ample notes, as I expect they will want to discuss my impeccable writing prowess, in addition to my other heroic achievements, once we finally meet again in the After Worlds.
Entry 1 (23rd of Fall, in the year of the exodus)
I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave home. The elders swore this was the only way for the Yul’Gunga to survive, but only the cowardly and the cruel would run from a just war. I guess it’s too late now. I didn’t see my 15th Winter before we left the heart of Ya’Eld for the Fairylands, and until I do, I won’t get to decide for myself. The elders suggest I express my anger by writing it down, as if charcoal and paper could be anything more to me than fuel for the fires of war. That is good; I should remember that for when I visit Dosh later. Dosh likes clever things.
I guess I should try to write a few remarks about the journey itself. After all, a firsthand account of the Fairylands is practically unheard of. I shall use my best words for this.
It is cold again tonight, yet as we reach the other side of the mountains, I can feel a strange summer warmth taking hold. We still travel above the cloud line, but the tops of mighty trees breach through just the same. The jungle below must be vast if the trees can rival a mountain. Of course, I can only speculate, along with the others, on what awaits us below. It’s strange being so close and still knowing so little about our new home. I hope the elders know I blame them for all of this. I can only dream that one of them is crushed by a falling goat or boulder or taken away by a large bird. Maybe poisoned by bad eggs. Sweet sleeping Serpent, I’d give my best fang for a good egg! I wonder if anyone has any left.
Entry 2 (25th of Fall, in the year of the exodus)
They say the Serpent Oracles foretold of our demise and that our only future lay beyond the mountains in the lands of the Fairy. But Fairies were a bedtime story, and The Heart of Ya’Eld was ours first. We Yul’Gunga took it before the animals could even speak, and we freed everyone from the tyranny of our ancient enemies. Why would the Animal Tribes not side with us against the invaders? How could they trust these strangers over their saviors? How can they not see that Ya’Eld was ours by design? It was Yul’Gunga who found ways to thrive under the watchful eyes of the Great Serpent’s brood. It was Yul’Gunga who made peace with the apocalyptic Bru’Gudi’Yen. We deserve better. I deserve better.
Dosh says the invaders are too dangerous; that our enemy wields magic as if it were a prisoner that must be beaten into submission. Dosh says the invaders aren’t going to leave, and if we fight with them, Ya’Eld will be the final victim of the war. I wholeheartedly disagree, but I dare not force a debate. It’s hard to argue with Dosh; they can be fickle, and I often feel I must agree with whatever they say. Our talks are the best part of each day, and I couldn’t live with myself if those moments were replaced with hurtful words, or worse, an uncomfortable silence. I know that The Heart of Ya’Eld, our home, is worth fighting for, but I also know that who you make your home with is just as important. If I want to someday make a home with Dosh, it’s probably best that they not feel constantly challenged by me. Maybe I could stand to be a little less combative with everyone in the Tribe. Except the elders; it’s the cliffs for them.
We continue to descend down the mountainside, and the clouds remain thick all around us. The scouts found some fallen branches from the massive trees that grow closer with each day of our travels. They say the branches were bigger than the trunk of any tree they had ever seen before, and that some had massive claw marks, as if carried over to the mountaintop by a full-sized dragon or some other kind of flying monstrosity. The leaves they brought back as evidence were truly astonishing. This does not ease my mind. What if we’ve traded an enemy we could defeat for one we can’t? Without any doubts, I will take what I must from whatever or whoever awaits us, though I feel my heart will not be in it. The blood I shed should spill on the lands of my ancestors, not this cursed place.
Entry 3 (2nd of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
This is foolish. The elders can go suck sap out of a Ghost Oak for all I care, because I’m not doing this. I am a proud Yul’Gunga, and as a future leader of the Hasa’Satch tribe, I am far too busy for childish journaling.
Entry 4 (the 6th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
Boredom takes me, and I relent. I also found the spicy flower wine hidden inside the kitchen supplies. Dosh has been sick since yesterday morning, but it’s nothing to worry about. They will be allowed to rest and wait for the rearguard before having to continue on. That gives Dosh a few days to recover, but leaves me quite lonely. Elder Roh’Ka has asked for my assistance with meal preparations, though I imagine it’s just an excuse to see if my fury has been tamed. Impossible. My fury remains untamed, like the ocean or something else…equally untamable. I have no clever words tonight. I am drunk.
Entry 5 (the 7th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
After sobering from that last bottle of wine, I see now that yesterday’s entry was not my best work. Truly, I am glad Dosh was left behind to recover, and they did not have to hear my many drunken confessions. It would seem the sleeping Serpent dreams fondly of me! However, I did not escape the whole night without incident. I may have spoken some cruelties to Elder Roh’Ka and performed a few choice gestures as well. My actions have landed me with several extra duties as punishment. Despite this, my spirits are high. One of my extra duties has me meeting up with the rearguard, which means I will see Dosh again even sooner!
More interestingly, now that a majority of the caravan has passed below the cloud line, everyone can see the massive jungle that awaits us. It is truly an astonishing sight. Ancient, gargantuan, twisting trees collide with each other to create an unbroken wall across the skyline. The canopy darkens a root-covered earth below, yet splashes of light can be seen breaking through in eerily perfect patterns. This land must rival The Heart of Ya’Eld in size, if not even larger. I will not lie. It is…beautiful. Despite all this, the talk of the morning is focused entirely on what can only be described as a towering black monolith sitting deep in the tree line and peaking slightly from the top of the canopy. Only clever hands could build something like that, which means our suspicions are correct. The Fairylands are not unclaimed, and Fairies may be real after all. Despite now having visible evidence to the contrary, we haven’t seen another living thing for several days. There are no goats, no birds, no bugs, no life at all here on the other side of the mountains. As they draw closer to the tree line, the scouts report they’ve heard screams coming from deep in the jungle—wailing cries that seem to call and respond to one another. I don’t really know what to think of that. The gossip has some of the youths scared. Not me, though. I’m always ready for a fight! Of course, now that I’m being sent back to the rearguard, I’ll probably be the last member of my Tribe to slay a Fairy. Figures as much. Despite the sleeping Serpent’s earlier favor, perfect luck continues to elude me. I will have to focus on the little fortunes of daily life.
Entry 6 (10th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
My punishment ends! Also, Dosh is feeling better, and we’ve eagerly started our return journey to the vanguard. I’ve heard that a majority of the caravan has moved on to emergency rations, but the rearguard still had half-stale bread to share with us. They also had boiled eggs! Dosh says all they can taste is sickness and snot, so I got their eggs too. It truly is the little fortunes that carry us through!
The morning gossip says the scouts have entered the jungle proper and may have found a road. Rumor has it that a Yul’Gunga warden stone, an old one, sits at the entry of a faded path. Surprisingly, the Warden stone mentions nothing of the Bru’Gudi’Yen, nor does it have any ancient runes of protection. It simply says:
“This land is forbidden, by order of the Elves. Beware! Fairies live here. Do not take them from these lands. Do not try to conquer them. Return from whence you came and forget this place.”
I hadn’t heard the word “Elves” before, but Dosh says they had seen it written somewhere among the oldest Warden stones in the Ghost Oak Forest—some ancient enemy of our ancestors. Like the word “Fairy”, “Elves” was not a Yul’Gunga word. These words belong to the Hydra and were spoken by the Oracles of the Serpent God.
Dosh has grown quieter the closer we get to the jungle, and I can tell that they are worried. So, I told them in my fiercest voice, “I will heed no warnings from enemies we’ve long defeated! If it must, then this place will be our new home!” I’m trying to be brave for Dosh; however, I too am starting to feel a kind of fear. It’s probably nothing more than the anxious anticipation of battle.
In recent days, my thoughts have frequently been of my cousin, Zu’Zaad, who has led the scouts since the beginning of our Tribe’s exodus. Zu’Zaad is an accomplished Shepherd, and everyone has been praising their leadership for an entire season. If I were just a few years older, then maybe I would also be given opportunities to show my courage and skills. I know my envy is a weakness. I have to remind myself to think only of Zu’Zaad’s safety and success. I would never want my cousin to fail just so I could succeed. Besides, working with Sheep seems…boring and dirty; they don’t even talk.
Entry 7 (11th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
The eggs were bad. I’ve done this to myself, yet I still feel betrayed. Why must everything be a lesson?
Entry 8 (16th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
The elders have finally decided to tell everyone that we’ve run out of food. Dosh and I saw this coming. I knew the main and vanguard were low on rations, yet still, I had hoped that we would have made it into the jungle and found some meat by now. Instead, we’ve had to make camp next to a quiet creek just outside the treeline. The rearguard will join the rest of the caravan soon, and then we will begin our journey into the jungle proper.
Just like the mountains, there seems to be no life in the creek or along the outskirts of the jungle. On closer inspection of the tree line, all the nearby flora, while massive, seems dead and petrified. Most of them are harder than dragon scale, and despite being surrounded by trees, vines, and flowers, we cannot harvest any of them for lumber or food.
Even worse, the Scouts have found the source of the nightly screaming that comes from the jungle. Zu’Zaad caught one and quickly sent it back to the Vanguard. It is a profoundly ugly thing, with a hideous smile, terrible stench, and uncomfortable nudity. It shows no signs of intelligence and seems incapable of speech. The noises it does make are truly horrifying: wailing cries, as if the creature had been stricken by an unbearable madness or pain. Their bodies are lumpy and almost hippo-like, but their necks extend far too long. Instead of ending in a head, the neck simply stops, like a giant thumb with an unwanted face stretched across it. If this is a Fairy, I now understand why this place is abandoned. I hate it very much. We cut the beast open almost immediately and found that it somehow smelled even worse on the inside. The elders wanted to test the meat first, but several of the hungry youths took it upon themselves to see if the beast was poisonous. All of them have been ill for days, and the youngest, Jom’Nogi, passed early this morning. May the sleeping Serpent see them safely to the Afterworlds.
All of these omens do not bode well for us. We are going to starve soon, and the only animal here is violently poisonous and equally disheartening to look at. Feki, one of the scouts that brought back the beast, made a tasteless joke about having to eat each other soon. Dosh didn’t like that and shamed Feki in front of everyone. I agree that it was a foolish joke to make out loud, but it wouldn’t be the first time our people have taken such drastic measures. Roh’Ka and the other elders won’t let that happen while they remain in charge. Despite their arrogance in all things, the elders do care about the safety of the Tribe.
The next time Zu’Zaad returns from the jungle, I’m going to ask if Dosh and I can come with them on the scouting expeditions. I am ready to make a name for myself, and if I’m going to starve to death, I would rather die doing something heroic than waste away back at the camp.
Entry 9 (18th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
I’ve never been so hungry before. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. Yesterday, I was angry about it. Today I’m just…foggy. Dosh seems to be handling it better than I am; still, I can tell that they suffer too. The rest of the poisoned youths have recovered enough that elder Roh’Ka thinks they will live. Two of them have gone blind, but the others seem to have escaped the worst of it.
Zu’Zaad said yes to my request, so Dosh and I left this morning with the scouts. Feki has been tasked with shadowing us for our safety. They seem unhappy about the order. I think Feki is still mad at Dosh for making them look like a fool the other day. It should be alright. I don’t believe Feki will try anything as long as Zu’Zaad and their flock are also with us. And if that skunk sniffer does start a fight with Dosh, I’ll just break all their teeth with my war club. They can eat the toothy shards, like a little treat.
We traveled about a day and a half before reaching the western scout camp under a sunny break in the canopy. The other scouts had already moved further into the jungle, leaving just the four of us and the flock to finish exploring the area. Except for the occasional cries of those horrid, long-necked hippo-beasts, the jungle is sickeningly silent. It would have been quite serene if the silence hadn’t been constantly interrupted by the growls of our hungry stomachs.
We started coming across trees that seemed more alive than the ones on the edge of the jungle, but there were still no other signs of life or anything that was actually edible. Occasionally, we’d find traces of an old cobblestone road and try to follow it when we could. Clearly, there was once a path leading somewhere deeper into the jungle, but massive roots burrow and reshape the earth into terrain that can be difficult to traverse.
Zu’Zaad suggested we find another hippo-beast and follow it to discover what it eats. A clever plan. It didn’t take long to find quite a few. We chose the largest to follow, and soon after, the beast met up with others of its kind. The nightmare hippos screamed at each other for a good while before finally moving on. Dosh suggested that they must be pack animals, and this group could be a family unit. The idea that these things want to spend time around others of their kind is baffling to me.
Even after noticing us, the pack didn’t seem threatened by our presence. Zu’Zaad said that the first one they caught seemed more curious than concerned about its capture. I suspect they may not have any predators and, therefore, have no reason to fear us. I doubt they have any defensive instincts at all. Despite my dislike of them, we still need these beasts to lead us to food, and quickly. May the sleeping Serpent dream of our survival.
Entry 10 (19th of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
Mushrooms! Inside the trees! The pack of hippo-beasts we followed finally got hungry, and after hours of walking, they stopped at one of the trees that still had some life left in it. With their hefty, unpleasant bodies, the beasts smashed themselves against the tree until its hard, petrified bark began to splinter. Below the bark, the innards of the tree had rotted out and been replaced by a blood-red fungus, which the beasts devoured without hesitation. Food, finally! We were all very excited, and before the pack had even finished their meal, Feki ran over to them, climbed up their backs, and began cutting pieces of the fungus from the tree. Despite the pack’s appetite, there was still enough fungus left over for the rest of us to have our fill. However, Zu’Zaad remained cautious, making Feki and the flock eat only a small piece in order to test it for poison before the rest of us could have any. I’m glad my cousin is here. If I were in charge, I wouldn’t have had the willpower to check the mushrooms for poison; I would have just eaten them and accepted my fate. Lucky for us, half a day passed by, and Feki seemed to remain in good health, so Zu’Zaad gave us the go-ahead to eat. I have no love in my heart for mushrooms, but when you’re starving, everything tastes good. It was so good, in fact, that I ate too much and immediately threw most of it back up. You shouldn’t gorge yourself if your stomach has been too empty for too long. Feki, Dosh, and the flock didn’t seem to have the same problem I did and had their fill without issue. Zu’Zaad remained cautious, only nibbling on a piece here or there. I know I will sleep well tonight. It will be the first real rest I’ll have had in days.
Entry 11 (22nd of Winter, in the year of the exodus)
I don’t really know where to begin, because I still don’t understand what happened. Feki is dead, Zu’Zaad is hurt, and Dosh is…missing. I will try to recount the event as best I can. The first thing I remember is waking up to Feki’s warcry. They screamed about intruders and started swinging their axe wildly around the camp. I thought I saw something in the nearby darkness, and I brandished my war club. When I looked around, I could see that something had torn apart Zu’Zaad’s flock. Pieces of bloody wool were everywhere, as if the sheep had fallen out of the sky and splattered across the camp. Zu’Zaad nocked an arrow and was aiming at Feki before I realized what was going on. Feki was moving towards me, their axe held high and ready to bring it down on my head, when the arrow pierced their throat. The axe fell from Feki’s hands immediately, but they kept stumbling forward into me, and I fell under their weight. I was about to strike Feki with my war club when I looked into their eyes and saw how scared they were. I hesitated, and when I did, Feki didn’t try to hurt me, but instead, they braced my head and gargled out the words “stay down.”
The blood dripping from Feki’s arrow wound began to blind me as it fell from their neck onto my face. I tried to speak, to tell Zu’Zaad not to fire again, but I choked on Feki’s blood. A second arrow struck Feki, this time in the ribs, before I could finally tell Zu’Zaad to stop. Despite their wounds, Feki lunged at something behind me, and I could see their weight shift impossibly against an enemy that wasn’t there. Feki thrashed and struggled, and as something lifted them off their feet, I rolled away and towards my cousin. The two of us watched Feki float into the air, their legs unable to touch the ground, as something we could not see ripped them in half from tooth to tail. I have never seen a Yul’Gunga die like that before, and I was shaken by it. Thankfully, Zu’Zaad acted fast, grabbing a handful of my cloak and pulling me onto the broken road. Together, we started running as swiftly as we could, back towards the caravan and the safety of numbers. I am ashamed of how long it took me to realize Dosh wasn’t with us. It only occurred to me then that Dosh was already gone when I had woken up. I tried to turn back, but Zu’Zaad wouldn’t let me. I want to say that I fought, that I demanded we return for Dosh, but I didn’t. I just ran.
End of Part 1
About the Author: Nick Smith is the co-creator of The Magical Land of Yeld as well as the story games Tulip Academy’s Society for Dangerous Gentlemen, Sea Dracula and Classroom Deathmatch.