War Hold Legend

There is a truth generally accepted that loving oneself is needed for survival, for if you do not love yourself, how can you love anything else? Most people would agree with this to some degree. Here is a story of that truth taken too far.

He started as a child, and he was ugly. His deformed features repulsed all those who approached him, screaming in shock when they saw that one of his ears was of a larger size. The hair that was supposed to be on the top of his head grew in abundance elsewhere.
His eyes squinted against a sunlight that nobody else saw, and his hands were as gnarled as the trees in Necrovion.

He was born of average parents of average attractiveness and of average wealth. Their mediocrity pained the young boy, for, to him, mediocrity was a gift given to only the chosen, which he longed to be. He hid his face at a young age, covering it with cloth. When he wandered around Marind's Bell, people would hear his stifled breathing and move out of the way so that they would not have to see his face.

He grew up in this way until the fateful day when he was wandering down by the edge of the lake. He approached the edge of the water, as he had on other days, but unlike his other trips, he decided to look deep in the water. He took off his cloth and looked down. First, shock overtook him, and then a scream escaped his grimy lips, and he closed his eyes. The image, however, would not be shut out so easily.

It burned and burned, and he hit himself on the forehead, attempting to get the image out of his mind. "No! No! No!" he cried, hitting himself harder until he fainted. The men came running, but when they saw who it was lying there, they averted their eyes and continued on.

The villagers did not know what to do. He clearly could not stay in the village, and the villagers were tired of looking at him. They held a council, and they agreed to banish him to a cabin on the far reaches of their village. They would lock the door, and pretend the problem did not exist.

They gathered the poor boy and did as they promised, locking the door to the cabin, and forgetting about the key. They elected a blind representative to slip food and water in the window each night.

Time went by and the boy became a man.

Magic

Without mirrors in the cabin, he began to forget about his deformities. His life in prison was comfortable, if not limiting. He began to write books on the subject of attractiveness, speaking about how little it matters, and how people should look beyond the skin to the heart of a man. He wrote and wrote, for it was all he had to do.

One fateful day there came a knock on the door. "It is locked!" he cried out.

"Oh that is no matter," came the reply, and a second later the door opened and there stood a cloaked figure.

The voice was genderless, and continued to address the poor, ugly man, "I hear you are the ugliest thing in the land."

"Yes, that I am. And I am proud to be ugly," he responded with a bit of haughtiness in his tone.

The dark shadow under the hood seemed to smile, and the cloaked figure drew a mirror from its recesses. "Here, look into this."

The man gazed, and the years of solitude without a mirror evaporated, and he was on the side of the lake again, crying in pain. He brought his hand up to hit himself, but the cloaked figure grabbed his wrist. "None of that. I have a proposition for you. You are the ugliest man in the world, and I am in need of a manikin to practice my skills on. I can fix you, and make you the most beautiful man in all the world, and there are no side-effects."

"Do I need to pay?" the ugly man inquired.

"No, you do not," the man replied.

"Well, I have nothing to lose!" he cried with joy. "Fix me, immediately!" The black shadow smiled, and set to work, playing with his features as if they were putty.

A few moments later, the magic was complete, and before him stood a gorgeous man, as gorgeous as had ever walked the land. Holding out the mirror again, the once-ugly man gazed into his reflection and was without words. Before he had time to find them, the black shadow was gone, leaving neither a trace nor a reflection.

The Weight

The Once-Ugly man left his cabin forever, wandering the land, showing his face to all those who passed. No more did they hide from him; instead, they came out of their houses to see the magnificent work of art that was his face. He wandered through Marind's Bell, past the gates that now opened for his bright features, and through the woods into Loreroot.

Gazing into the rivers and creeks he passed, he continually touched his face, admiring the smoothness and grace of his newly acquired features. He remarked to everything he passed, "Look on me, and I will look at you, and none of us will be un-seeable! My beauty will reflect yours. "

He came to rest where the War Hold is now, and turned his gaze up towards the heavens. He saw the Sun in the sky and was dazzled by its beauty. After a few moments of staring, though, he was forced to turn away. "Why," he told himself, "this is the one thing that I cannot gaze at! If I cannot look at the sun because of its sheer brilliance, then it must be the most dazzling thing in the universe, and I cannot let that be true. I am the most dazzling object. To prove it, I will have a staring contest with the sun! I will force it to look away from my gorgeous features, and I will be the victor!"

So the beautiful man looked up, and stared straight into the sun. He stayed there for days (for in those days the sun remained motionless), and the longer he stared at the sun the bigger his head and ego grew. As the seconds, minutes, and hours passed by, he was more reassured that it was he who was the most beautiful object. "Yes, I believe I have almost won!"

His head continued to grow and grow, and his eyes grew brighter and brighter, filled with so much sunshine. His head continued to grow until his body was buried deep in the ground under the weight of his head.

Years passed by, but the man would not give up. His neck cramped; his eyes glowed with sunlight; his body was buried deep, but still, he did not give up.

In the fifth year, he admitted defeat, crying, "You have defeated me, oh foul sun," and he attempted to close his eyes. What he quickly found, however, was that his body had become stone-stiff, and his muscles had become frozen in the same position. He was stuck, forever gazing at the sun, the one object that had defeated him, the one object more gorgeous than he. To this day, he remains in the forest of Loreroot as a lesson to all who passes by.