The Word-Eater

What follows is a legend overheard by the PCs as they traveled by ship towards Helma. A Gnomish grandmother told this story to her children: it is recorded verbatim.

''In the pages kept in Pelor's great book, in the tapestries wrought by the Weeping Woman in the warm halls of Vasinor, there is but one name that goes unwritten. We dare not bind it to earthly shape, for where he goes, stones forget their edges. Oceans are unmoored. Where he goes, all bonds are untethered. He is the eater of stories, the keeper of cold nothing. No bounds can hold where the Word-Eater goes. ''

''It is said that the Word-Eater came from nothing. He came from the empty space at the edge of the page, from the pause in the talk. (beat) Just so. That is his ward. ''

''Well, I cannot tell ye what he looks like, I can only say what he ain't! He is not tall, nor is he short. He is not round, and he is not sharp. He only fills what is empty, and when he's there it's emptier than before. ''

''The Word-Eater is aching, and he is hungry. The Word-Eater loves fine meat, and the Word-Eater loves find wine. But most of all, deep in the pocket of his empty black heart, the Word-Eater loves fine words. Just so. The shape on the page, the taste on the tongue, and the secret wisdom you keep in your chest, and the tie that binds them. He loves stories most of all. ''

''Now, there is only one way to keep the Word-Eater at bay. You must always read your books, and always say your prayers. Tell your stories, and speak what must be said. Pelor will write your name in his great book, and what's once writ cannot be unwrit. ''