Star Wars Myths & Fables

by Lucasfilm Press

  The two peoples shared much, cherishing each other’s art, trading knowledge and goods and affection. Both understood the need to preserve the status quo, as balance in all things was essential to their continued survival, and so, too, to the success of all the creatures of the sea. For this was the way of things on Glee Anselm, and the ocean spirit was duly pleased.

  However, left unchecked, success breeds greed, and for the greedy, possession leads only to the desire to possess more. So it was with the Anselmi, for as their nation flourished and their needs became ever greater, they began to look upon the Nautolans with envy.

  The seeds of this ill feeling took root and grew, for in the Nautolans the Anselmi saw others who had laid claim to what might be theirs—farm beds that were more fertile than their own and dominion over territory that curtailed the Anselmi’s own expansion—and they began to dream of how things might change, and how the Anselmi might put their own future success over that of the Nautolans.

  The Nautolans were a generous, giving people, inclined to share their wealth and bounty; so when ambassadors from the Anselmi empress came to petition the court of the Nautolan queen, she saw no reason to deny the Anselmi their wishes, and withdrew from the territory bordering their nation, gifting it to their needful neighbors. The Anselmi, instead of being grateful, saw only how swiftly the Nautolan queen had capitulated, and laughed at the Nautolans’ naivety, thinking themselves clever and superior.

  The Anselmi took the new territory they had received, and in it they flourished. Yet as their numbers swelled, so did their sense of self-worth, and all the while they wished for more—always more—and their hunger seemed never to be sated. For what the Anselmi searched for was missing in their hearts and minds, not to be found beneath the waves of the ocean or amongst the farms and cities of the Nautolans.

  Time went on, and where once there had been nothing but peace between the two species, there was a growing sense of ill ease. As the Anselmi continued to expand and grow, they began to compete for resources with the Nautolans, and there were those amongst the Anselmi who believed they should simply take what was needed, irrespective of their neighbors.

  While the Nautolans preached only peace, the philosophers of the Anselmi spoke of self-belief and the rights of the Anselmi above all others. The Anselmi people—for they had always been a proud folk and were easily coerced by the word of the empress—slowly came to believe a great untruth: that the Nautolans were weak and ignorant and less entitled, and that they had taken from the Anselmi the privilege and resources that should rightfully be theirs.

  Where once there had been love and mutual admiration, there was festering hate, and the Nautolans knew not what they had done to inspire such resentment from their neighbors.

  Soon the Anselmi had laid claim to more of the Nautolan territory, threatening violence, and while the Nautolans wished to avoid war, they did not easily relent, for they had taken the measure of the Anselmi and seen in them a rising arrogance that threatened the balance of all things beneath the sea.

  Ambassadors were dispatched—for relations between the Anselmi empress and the Nautolan queen had grown increasingly tense—bearing a warning from the Nautolan people to their neighbors. In it, the queen argued that if the Anselmi were to continue with their present ways, then the balance of all things would be upset and the living spirit of the ocean would be gravely displeased and exact punishment upon its children.

  With an attitude of openness and admiration for her former friend, the queen begged the empress to cease her expansionist ways, for the empress risked the very downfall of the Anselmi, as no one might claim dominion over the oceans and its fierce and powerful spirit. The queen warned that the ocean spirit granted them leave to exist within its watery depths only so long as they strived to maintain the balance among all things, as well they had both been taught.

  The Anselmi empress scoffed at such a warning, for she had grown so arrogant as to believe that the Anselmi’s self-imposed superiority set them apart from the great beasts and the tiny fish, from their neighbors the Nautolans, and even from the ocean spirit itself.

  Despite their arrogance the Anselmi understood that a war with the Nautolans would never be wise (for the Nautolans were great warriors, despite their disavowal of violence), so they sent the Nautolan ambassadors away with a message in reply: that the Anselmi people claimed dominion over not only the ocean but the lands above them, too. They would prove their superiority to the Nautolans, and afterward the Nautolans would be forced to admit the truth, and all of Glee Anselm would pay allegiance to the Anselmi people.

  The Nautolans remained concerned for the welfare of their neighbors and pleaded with the Anselmi to reconsider, but their warnings fell on deaf ears. As one, the Anselmi dragged themselves from the ocean’s grasp, heaving themselves onto dry land.

  There, on a vast island in the middle of the ocean, the Anselmi found a place unspoiled by the touch of people, an island so large and so verdant that it might sustain them for countless centuries. The Anselmi had found what they desired—a perch from which they might look down upon the ocean and its creatures and know that they had mastered all.

  In the years that followed, the Anselmi adapted to their new way of life above the water, constructing a vast empire above the waves. Towering temples and spired cities were hewn from the very rocks, and their population grew to fill the shiny new streets and homes. They cared not for what they took from the land, for they had conquered it and it was theirs. They dug deep mines and stripped natural resources and fed upon the fruit and animals of the land until they were plump and lazy.

  All the while, the Anselmi sneered at the Nautolans down in the cold embrace of the ocean and sent every ambassador back to them unheard. Soon all contact with their former neighbors ceased, and the Anselmi laughed gleefully at how high they had climbed.

  Meanwhile, the Nautolans lamented the loss of the Anselmi, for they had once been loving neighbors and had lost their way. Still the Nautolans held to their own territory, living a quiet, peaceful, and happy existence, and the ocean provided for them. They wanted for nothing other than the safe return of the Anselmi, although they feared the arrogance of the Anselmi might yet prove their undoing.

  Sure enough, despite the vast territory they had claimed, the Anselmi outgrew their island home, for they had built palaces and showgrounds for their leaders and stripped the earth of all its treasures. Just as they had once coveted the territory of their neighbors, they now looked in envy upon the ocean itself—for what right did the ocean have to cover the land?

  Thus, in a great feat of engineering—the likes of which had never been seen before—the Anselmi raised a series of immense dams around their island, pushing back the ocean itself. They drained away the water to reclaim the land from the ocean’s murky depths, and they built upon it, fashioning new, bigger homes and raising great statues in their own honor.

  Once the work was complete, the Anselmi looked upon it with great pride, for there was the absolute proof that they were superior to all things on Glee Anselm.

  Still the Nautolans sent ambassadors bearing warnings, but those ambassadors were turned away unheard, for the Anselmi had by then forgotten what it was to have neighbors, and all thought of balance had long before been dismissed.

  Had the Anselmi heeded the warnings of the Nautolans, they might yet have come to understand the grave error of their ways, but in their arrogance, they were blinded, and in their blindness, they angered the ocean spirit.

  Enraged, the ocean spirit rose up against them, hurling vast tidal waves and storms over the dams so they crumbled and fell, and soon the land the Anselmi had stolen had been taken back beneath the waves.

  Yet the ocean spirit wished to teach the people of Glee Anselm a lesson, so the waves did not stop, crashing over the spires of the Anselmi cities, flooding the streets, toppling the statues, and flushing the people themselves from their homes.

  It stormed without ceasing for days on
end until, at last, the ocean spirit was satisfied and once again fell calm, its work complete.

  Balance had been restored, and the Anselmi had been brought to their knees. Nothing of the island remained—a sunken domain, drowned beneath the tumultuous waves, all trace of the Anselmi empire gone.

  The Anselmi, who had once deemed themselves superior to all others, had been reduced to a scarce few pockets of survivors, left to eke out an existence scavenging amongst the detritus of their former glory.

  Deep beneath the ocean the Nautolans wept for the loss of their neighbors, for they had ever wished only to protect the Anselmi from themselves, knowing as they did that the balance had been disturbed and that the ocean spirit would not tolerate such a slight.

  The Nautolans remained in their cities beneath the waves, always mindful of the natural balance, and never again did the people of Glee Anselm defy the power of the ocean or attempt to deny their place in the order of all things.

  LONG TIME AGO, ON THE planet Cerosha, before the city of Solace was destroyed by the vengeance of the Dark Wraith, stories were told amongst the people of a kindly wanderer who would emerge from the mist to aid the people in their hour of need, assisting them with their most difficult or dangerous plights.

  The Wanderer always traveled alone, appearing in flowing brown robes, with a neatly trimmed beard and a mane of chestnut-colored hair that flowed over his shoulders. He carried a sword that seemed to glow with its own inner light, and he commanded the power of gods, for he understood the natural order of things and had power over all the creatures and the trees and the rising tide.

  No one knew from whence the Wanderer came, or to where he returned when his work was done, and many amongst the people of Solace suspected he was naught but a specter, a conjured apparition, for he seemed only to appear when and where he was most needed, and none ever learned his name. While his visitations were few and far between, the mere fact of his existence offered the people hope, for they saw that there was goodness in the world and knew that they were not alone.

  Three times the Wanderer was seen within the walls of Solace, and three times he helped the people overcome a threat that might otherwise have proved their undoing.

  * * *

  The first of these occasions was long ago, before the wars that tore the galaxy apart and long before Solace burned, back when it was the glittering jewel on the edge of the Boralic Sea, the pride of all Cerosha.

  For many years the city had been a bustling port, where traders from all across the known galaxy came to exchange their wares or to seek work or passage amongst the stars. The cantinas brimmed with patrons from the Outer Rim, and the people of Solace welcomed their visitors with open arms, embracing all with their hospitality.

  The people grew rich, too, on the money they made from the traders, who brought wealth with them to Solace and spent credits in the city, seeking food and board and company.

  Yet there cannot be light without darkness, and there were those in Solace who sought to encourage illegal trade and villainy and to bring the good name of the city into disrepute.

  So it was that a group of nefarious pirates came to Solace, stationing themselves just outside the city in the craggy mountains, from where they could mount raids upon all the incoming and outgoing ships.

  The pirates were a motley crew, comprising villainous sorts from many different worlds—Bith, Abednedo, Twi’lek, and human amongst them—and they took great pleasure in their work, demanding payment in cargo for safe passage in and out of the city and carrying out hostile raids upon the citizens, who cowered in terror at their coming.

  For many months this regime continued, and the people grew desperate, for not only were the pirates slowly eroding all the wealth the citizens had accumulated over the years, but trade was becoming sparse as traders chose other ports to avoid paying the pirates’ toll. Meanwhile, the pirates showed no sign of tiring, for they had amassed a great hoard in the mountains and grew lazy and fat off the proceeds.

  In its desperation the city raised a small militia to tackle the pirates, but they were ill-trained and unprepared, and the pirates dismissed them easily, sending them scuttling back to their homes behind the city walls. It seemed as though the problem would never be solved and the pirates had made a permanent home on Cerosha.

  It was then that the Wanderer made his first appearance in Solace, the day following the repelled attack on the pirate base. No one saw him arrive, but all who encountered him that day spoke of the aura of power that surrounded him, and they knew that he was kindly of heart and mind.

  The Wanderer spent the day walking the quiet streets of the city, speaking to those who had suffered at the hands of the pirates, hearing their tales of woe. If he had business there in Solace he kept it to himself, for he seemed to walk with no urgency and took time to speak with everyone who bid him good day. So drawn to him were the people that they emerged from their homes to witness his passing, and the winds blowing off the sea whispered of coming change.

  That night, the Wanderer watched from a rooftop as the pirates carried out another raid, this time crashing a speeder into the city orphanage and stealing its donation fund, leaving the building a smoking ruin. Upon witnessing this travesty, the Wanderer promised to help the people and to relieve them of the pirate menace the very next day.

  Thus, the next morning the Wanderer set out for the mountains, taking no provisions and carrying only the hilt of his glowing sword on his belt.

  The people of Solace had gathered on the city walls to watch him go, for they knew in their hearts that one man could do nothing in the face of such villainy, and they feared for his life. Yet still they held out hope, for there was something about this wanderer they had never encountered before, a power that resonated in his every step.

  For hours the people remained on the walls, until, as the sun began to set on the horizon, they knew they had been right and the strange wanderer who had come amongst them had tried valiantly to parlay with the pirates but failed, and they would never hear from him again.

  Yet soon after, one of the watchers issued a cry, and in the distance, a lone figure was seen crossing the plain toward the city, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. As the figure drew nearer, the people saw that it was the Wanderer, and they cheered.

  The kindly man, with his strange mannerisms and even stranger appearance, returned to the city, assuring the people that they would never be troubled by the pirates again. Then, his business there complete, he turned and walked away into the setting sun, disappearing once more from their view.

  True enough, the pirates did not return to the city the next day, or the day after, and soon a small expedition of volunteers set out from Solace for the mountains, whereupon they found the camp of the pirates had been abandoned and the citizens’ own stolen goods left behind. The treasures were recovered and restored to their rightful owners, and trade once again began to flourish in the city as word spread and star-faring traders returned.

  * * *

  The Wanderer was not heard from again until many years later, when the people of Solace once again had dire need for his assistance.

  The city had continued to thrive in the intervening time, and with it the population had grown exponentially, and the needs of the people were far greater than they had ever been.

  Thus, a large mining operation had been initiated, and huge drills had been deployed to open bore holes in the plains, from which minerals could be extracted for use in the city’s forges and factories to help sustain the people.

  Only, in drilling deep into the crust of the planet, the miners had woken a hive of creatures living in the hollows beneath the surface, and these horrifying beasts had spilled out of the ground to utterly infest the city.

  These creatures were the size of small Loth-wolves, with hard, chitinous plating, long snouts, and vicious mandibles that crackled with a strange charge of energy that could disable a person with the merest touch. The creatures had burrowed into homes
throughout the city, swarmed the sewers and alleyways, and worst of all, taken to feasting on children.

  The people of Solace were afraid, for the creatures seemed unstoppable; they had found no weapon that could penetrate the thick armor plating and no barrier that could halt the creatures’ progress. In disturbing the underground nest, the people of Solace had lost their own homes, and nowhere was safe as the creatures swarmed from the depths like some terrible punishment sent to test their spirits.

  All over the city people called out to the Wanderer for help, recalling stories of his previous visit and the miracle he had performed on their behalf. The Wanderer must have heeded their cries, for he came once again, unfolding from the mist like an apparition before the eyes of a child and his mother, somehow banishing with a simple wave of his hand a creature that had been menacing them.

  Once again, the Wanderer took to the streets, forever inquisitive, hearing the tales of the unfortunates who had lost kin to the terrible jaws of the beasts, for the infestation had become unbearable and scores of children were being swallowed daily.

  Upon seeing the extent of the city’s plight, first the Wanderer went to the site of the drills, where—employing his blade of light—he destroyed the mining machines, slicing effortlessly through their workings and severing their towering alloy shafts.

  Then, returning to the city, the Wanderer chose a raised platform in the central square—the stage used by politicians to give speeches—and dropped to his knees, closing his eyes and folding his arms across his chest in silent meditation.

  As the people watched—for word had spread, and the people had gathered—the creatures began to emerge from their burrows, poking out of the sides of homes and buildings and scuttling from the mouths of alleyways.

  Soon a huge swarm of the creatures had gathered in the square, so many that they scrambled atop one another, chittering anxiously. All the while, the Wanderer kneeled upon the platform, his eyes closed as if in peaceful communion.