The Legend of Mor'du

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Come on, then! Let me guess.

You want to be smarter? Taller?

Faster? Breathe underwater?

Able to fly?

Read minds?

Great strength.

Which reminds me.

The prince! Tell it! Tell it!

Aye! I'll tell you a tale,

but it's up to you whether you heed

the words, or not.

Not far from here,

there was a prosperous,

flourishing kingdom.

Ancient kingdom! Ancient!

Would you let me tell it?

It was ruled by a king whose wisdom

was equaled by the love of his people.

The King had four sons,

each gifted in his own way.

The youngest was wise.

The third was compassionate.

The second son was just.

And the King's eldest son was strong,

but he mistook great strength

for character.

One dark autumn, the King grew ill.

On his deathbed, he proclaimed

the crown would not pass to the eldest,

but that he would divide the rule.

That the combined gifts of the brothers

would make an even greater kingdom.

But the eldest son felt disgraced.

Believing that he alone should be

the sole heir,

a seed of selfishness grew in him

like a poison.

To his brothers he declared his claim,

and demanded their obedience,

shattering the bonds

of their brotherhood.

Words turned to war.

Brother fought brother,

and the fate of this great kingdom

was forever changed.

The prince commanded

a powerful army,

but the battle remained

a bitter stalemate.

Starving for a victory,

the prince cursed his fate.

He stalked the woods,

coming to rest

within an ancient ring of stones.

The will-0'-the-wisps appeared,

drawing him, guiding him,

to the edge of a dark loch

and a tiny cottage far from the shore.

There, lived a rare creature,

a beautiful conjurer,

an enchantress of elegance and grace,

a ravishing vision

of magnificent loveliness.

Please.

A Witch.

He demanded she create a spell

that would change his fate.

The strength of ten he desired,

and he offered his signet ring

to persuade her.

The Witch could see the wounded soul

behind his bluster

and so she made him a spell

that offered him a choice,

to fulfill his dark wish

or heal the family bonds

he had broken.

Baiting his brothers with a false truce,

the prince claimed his kingdom.

To the brothers' protests,

he stood before them

and drank the spell.

At that moment the spell took effect,

giving him strength tenfold,

but, to his surprise,

in the form of a great black bear.

Still there was the spell breaker

she had given him,

if he would only choose

to mend the bond torn by pride.

Instead, he accepted

the shape of the monster.

And defeated his brothers.

He returned to command his army,

but they saw only the beast.

They took arms against him.

He slew a great many,

and the rest fled the kingdom in terror.

With the armies of the brothers

fractured,

the kingdom collapsed into darkness,

and the blight

of the Great Black, Mor'du,

fell across his domain.

Desiring power

over the bonds of family,

Mor'du has wandered endlessly,

his soul forever buried inside

the scarred and tormented shell.

A grim fate.

But what of you?

Will you challenge fate?

I... I just wanted a drink of water!

Let me out! No, please!

Sweetie, you've got to pull, not push.

Thank you.

Nice chatting with you.

Back to wood carving.

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