Build-A-Legend: "The Wandering Crown"

[Admiral Squish]

Welcome to Build-A-Legend! It's a simple game, but I do hope you'll enjoy it.
Your task is simply to create the legend behind the name given below. It can be a creature, a place, an event, an idea, or pretty much any other sort of noun you can think of. It can be in any setting you can think of, from high fantasy, to sci-fi, to alternate history, to official settings, or it can even be its own setting, if you're that ambitious. Each week, on Friday, I post a new thread, with a new name for people to build on, and add the last one into the archive. If you'd like, you can suggest names for the future. There's no rules, just have fun and try not to insult other people's creations. Do those count as rules?

The Name: The Wandering Crown

“The Iron Cathedral” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?378644)
“The Glass Sea” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?378644&p=18306562&viewfull=1#post18306562)
“The Hounds of Kel'ranu” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?380942)
“TheVanishing Heights” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?382217)
“The Order of One” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?383641)
“Rono's Folly” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?384719)
“The Day of Shadow” (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?385764)

[IZ42]

"Dancing, laughing through the world
comes the wand'ring crown.
The king of beggars, the gypsy prince,
held with much renown.
Master thief and gold voiced bard,
called the vagrant king.
Song of dust, drifting high,
listen to him sing.
The road his court, he comes and goes,
ruling, the roaming lord.
Through chains and despots,
he deftly swings his sword.
A mortal free, ever roving,
hail the wand'ring crown."

[Admiral Squish]

The Wandering Crown, as it is known commonly, is not, in fact, the simple item it appears. The crown appears to be made of red-hot iron, but various sources attest to the crown being unyielding and unbreakable, even under immense forces. The crown levitates, between one and two feet over the head of the current Angra, and cannot be moved. It was thought to be an artifact of some sort, a symbol of the power and authority brought to bear by the lord of all 666 layers of the Pit, but, as is often the case, the truth is much more complicated.

A bit of explanation is necessary to understand the nature of the crown. The Pit consists of 666 layers, each one a plane that has been conquered, ravaged, and transformed by the denizens of the pit to suit their needs, and interconnected by various Hellmouth portals. The Pit has a very complex, sprawling leadership structure, if it could even properly be called a structure. Hundreds, thousands perhaps, of distinct Demon Lords claim authority over different regions of the pit. Some control only a fraction of a layer, others command expansive kingdoms that spread over many connected layers. But ultimately, all demon lords bow to the Angra, a demon lord who has ascended to godlike power and taken the title and the crown as their own. As one could imagine in such a scenario, Angra rise and fall relatively frequently. It was assumed by outsiders that Angra merely referred to the title of this lord of demon lords, and that new Angra ascended to power by absorbing the divine essence of the former in a coup. However, in truth, in their language, the word refers not only to this lord, but also to the crown, as the two are in fact, inextricable

The wandering crown is not an artifact. It is a god. A strange god, to be certain, but a god nonetheless. It is alive, and sentient, and while it is completely impossible to communicate with, it seems to have motives. The Angra chooses a host among all the denizens of the Pit, and bestows upon them a portion of its divine powers, transforming and empowering them into the Angra. It most often chooses the most powerful demon lord as the new Angra, often immediately after they prove their worth with a suitable coup to take the throne, but sometimes it seems to pick randomly, or intentionally empower a weak demon to the position for no apparent reason. The crown's motives are inscrutable, but the result is apparent. The leadership of the Pit is forever in flux, new leaders constantly replacing the old, rivalries and feuds burning all across the 666 levels... The Wandering Crown keeps its empire alive by creating a state of chaos. Here, the strongest, the most ruthless and ambitious, the most cruel and bloodthirsty, these are the ones who rise to power, these are the ones who keep the Pit eternally expanding, and these are the ones who lead conquests.

[GPuzzle]

"Ah, the Wandering Crown. No one knows if the Crown is cursed or if just about everyone who wore it isn't worthy of it. The Wandering Crown has a history of being worn by kings who were usurped and murdered. Yes, that includes the usurpers. According to legend, its powers negate the Folly's powers... So the one who can wear the Crown will be able to govern the land of Wingard - the true king. Since the Folly's guarded on this Keep... you can imagine that no one has showed up yet." - Rolf Daugal, Grandmaster of the Kestal Keep.

[Taet]

Be seated, class, and begin. A funny thing, the naming of money. The God-Emperor followed an unbroken and sound tradition to rename money into shares and rosaries and crosses. Did you know a 'share' used to be a word just to say you owned a little bit of an earthly company? You did, L-558?

Ah. Yes, "sharing" used to mean something given without money. That is usage even older than the 'share' that is used for an earthly company. And where did you find such an old story?

Good lad. I will have a word with Teacher Eighteen about his syllabus. Now. A 'share' was not money. It had no value as does nothing without the blessing of the God-Emperor. The idea of a 'share' included the idea that it could be traded back into the money of the time. The useful money was named after their earthly ruler. Euro. Almighty Dollar. Or the revealing habit of those who understood that firepower is earthly power. They called their money Shrapnel.

But even then they sensed their earthly power, their money, was overthrown. When the God-Emperor first set foot on the earth, money was called Crown. It was a sort of hat that only rulers were allowed to wear, made out of money. The first enemy of the God-Emperor was paid a Crown to do violence to his earthly self. The God-Emperor laid his power upon that Crown. And that enemy learned before he died whose power was greater than earthly power. Oh yes. And so did the one who paid him, and the one he paid with that money.

They learned slowly. They cursed the Wanderer and not the Wandering Crown. But they all learned in the end whose power was greatest. Yes.

Tell me, L-558, do you ever feel your money talking to you? Take it out and hold it up to us all. Now!

Look at every tiny Cross. One of them may still be the Wandering Crown. The memory of the God-Emperor is eternal. Will you come quietly, L-558, while I talk with T-018? Because in the end, you will come to know.

T-023 a.k.a. "Teacher Twenty-Three", Lecture 39 of 108.

[ramakidin]

"Dancing, laughing through the world
comes the wand'ring crown.
The king of beggars, the gypsy prince,
held with much renown.
Master thief and gold voiced bard,
called the vagrant king.
Song of dust, drifting high,
listen to him sing.
The road his court, he comes and goes,
ruling, the roaming lord.
Through chains and despots,
he deftly swings his sword.
A mortal free, ever roving,
hail the wand'ring crown."

Oh, my goodness yes. This is awesomeness and is going into my campaign. I am going to stick a copy of it in my notebook and sing it when it becomes appropriate with your permission of course.

[Darkmonger27]

"It is said that in the years of the Second Empire, a great king reigned over the lands to the West. This king was wise and just, and ruled his people fairly. But all good at once collapses into ruin in the West.
"In this time, the Hobgoblin Archpriest of the Damned One had conquered the Six Isles, and turned his intrests to tge Mainland. The king and his people fought valiantly, but none could stand against the Blackened Horde for long.
"With a valiant effort, the king beat back the horde, but was struck a fatal blow by the Archpriest. In his final days, he ordered the creation of ninety-nine crowns and one hundred citidels, each with a throne. Among his generals he divided these citidels, but the final one he left untouched, saying that when the last throne was filled by a rightful heir, the World's End is nigh.
"Over the years, these thrones have been taken time and time again, but the last still avoided. The Archpriest led an army into that citidel to claim total victory over his enemy, but in that place of either holiness or taintedness, his soul and body were seperated. Now, while his body lies beneath Redmont Isle, his spirit is forever cursed to haunt the halls of that place, and guard it with his ghostly armies.
"But the Wandering Crown, a treasure so dark even the Abyss shuddered to hold it, is the key. A crown of black steel woven in an ancient pattern faintly resembling elven craftmanship before they swore off flame forever. Worn by the Archpriest when he left that cursed fortress, entombed with him in death. But it walks the world in an unearthly manner, possessing a willing supplicant to gaze upon the evils wrought by future threats. If you have seen the crown in a dark place, then you are marked. You have two options; submit or lose your soul."

[IZ42]

Oh, my goodness yes. This is awesomeness and is going into my campaign. I am going to stick a copy of it in my notebook and sing it when it becomes appropriate with your permission of course.

You can use it whenever you want, dude. Thanks for thinking it's awesome. I might have to save this someplace as well, because it was fun to write. Although it can be sung, I thought of it as more of a traditional poem (like a chant sorta style, derp), but performers interpretation is aight with me.

[daemonaetea]

They avoided him whenever possible. It wasn't malice that kept them away from the pitiful figure, merely the absolute knowledge that he was beyond their help. Sometimes food or water was left in front of him, near the path it seemed he was taking. Nothing big, nothing even that good. Even rotten fruit was more than he had, and as much as they could risk.

Today though there was a visitor to the town, one who'd come looking for the Wandering Crown. They came, occasionally. The townspeople avoided them even more than they did the Wandering Crown.

The woman stood in the middle of the road, ahead of the Wandering Crown's path. A hundred yards out, and she stared forward, watching. Fifty yards and her eyes watered. Ten yards out, and she had to look away. Tears ran down her cheeks, her shoulders quaked, and she found her knees growing weak.

His face was a mass of sores and rotting flesh, unknowable humors dripping from the ruined expanse of his face. The dirt of the road had caked into the dirty remnants of his clothes, and the sunken skin beneath it. His feet...

She shook her head, willing the image away.

The approaching figure didn't stop, as it passed her. Wouldn't. Couldn't. Somewhere between the two. But it could slow.

"You shouldn't have come here."

"I... I came to..."

She tried, but the words simply couldn't be found. All the words she thought she'd had, all the ideas she'd had for how this conversation could go, and in the moment they abandoned her.

"Go back. Be happy." The figure never looked her in the eyes, never focused on her. But there was panic in the voice of the Wandering Crown.

"Please, great grandfather!" she cried at last. "It's not worth it! The kingdom isn't -"

"Isn't it?" came the voice, growing fainter now as the figure grew farther away. "My dear, that's what being a King is. A life of service. And if the goddess's boon demands sacrifice - no matter how great - to ensure the kingdom is strong, well... What's one life, against a kingdom?"

The tears merely poured down her face. She couldn't say a word. Couldn't reach out. Couldn't... couldn't bring herself, now that she was here, now that she'd seen the life of the Wandering Crown, what it meant. Couldn't get any closer to him, less the burden fall to her. To one who didn't have the strength to bear it.

She walked away, just as her brothers and sisters had. And their mothers and fathers. And their mothers and fathers. Down the line, for fifteen generations. All safe, and well, and prosperous, as one man held the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, keeping it safe as their Wandering Crown.

[RagingBluMunky]

It was in the first extra-solar expansion of the human race that the seeds for the tales of the ghost ships were planted. With the discovery of surprisingly cheap Faster Than Light travel, colonization efforts were mounted by all organizations that could scrape together enough money for a hull. Needless to say, corners were cut and many ships never made it to their destinations. Some exploded mid-flight, and others activated their FTL drives but then were never heard from again, vanishing into subspace.

It was decades later, when the governments had reestablished themselves reached out to the numerous colonies that had managed to survive, that rumors of ghost ships started circulating. Eventually these rumors became folk tales, which then became legends.

The most famous of these is the legend of the ship called The Wandering Crown. A human vessel of unknown make and origin it appears randomly, sometimes appearing only once per century, other times twice in the same week at locations months of travel apart. Like all ghost ships it does not respond to hails and doesn't appear on most forms of active detection. The Wandering Crown earned its name because at some point it acquired a halo of strange objects, thought to be comets or alien objects, that hover around its bridge like a crown.

The Wandering Crown's arrival in system is a warning of severe fluctuations in subspace, which can throw a ship off course, or even destroy it. This has lead systems to see The Wandering Crown as a good luck charm, giving them time to prepare for subspace storms, rather than being caught off guard

[Heartspan]

Old king jerry was a righteous bastard alright, once Malark gained power amoung the people and got "voted" to be chancellor, jerry straight rode off regalia and all. Called the whole kingdom fools, said he wouldn't stand for this injustice. Ha ha, they say he's still seen wandering around, helping villages escape from malark's clutches, right over the border.

[mig el pig]

Beter late then never:

Old Nilemah looked behind him to make sure they weren't followed. He could see that both of his apprentices were tired from the long day on the road and a bit annoyed that they weren't allowed to rest with the other travelers. He could still see the campsite from here but he was sure most would go to sleep soon. With no bards for entertainment around the fire most would take this opportunity for an early rest. He bid his apprentice to sit and be quiet. Although most would have been too tired to follow them this far he had to be sure because some tales are for bards only. After a while Nilemah began to speak. It was a long time since he had last told this story but he woul never forget this story.

We are the fortunate ones. While most people toil the fields with backbreaking labor or risks their lives to fight the terrors in the dark for king and country we travel the world to bring light, hope or ,perhaps only, a distraction to lives that are filled with struggle. And for this we are rewarded with warmth, a meal, a roof above our heads and if we are lucky some coin. Some would say we are not a part of this world but I beg to differ. We are the best part of this world and we should never forget this. One of us forgot this once and we still pay dearly for his error. Both of you know that in a few months time we will part ways. Do not consider your training finished because it never will be, just as I am still learning every day but promise me that you'll remember this tale because it teaches us that even we, torchbearers of hope, can be petty, cruel and undeserving of any human compassion.

A long time ago, one of our trade, was visiting a small town in one of the southern kingdoms. He considered himself the king of the world. There wasn't a thing in this world he couldn't force to dance to the tune of his music. Even the elves described it as magical how he could make the wind and branches of the old oaks move in rhythm with his song. He amused many farmers by making their cows dance with their hens but no reward was good enough for him. If you gave him coppers he would lurk at the silver in your purse. If you gave him a silver coin he would covet your golden ones. Although he was one of us, we should never be like him because his actions nearly destroyed our most important treasure.

Although he brought joy to the world in a way that hasn't been seen since he felt worse everyday because he wasn't receiving what he considerd his due and one night he betrayed the trust of his hosts. Why it happened then? I do not know. Their was nothing wrong in particular, on the contrary the food was more lavish then he had eaten in a long time, the wine was of an excellent vintage and he received a hand full of silver coins that would keep him fed throughout the winter.

At first the people were still laughing, thinking it was a part of the show but when the first golden tooth broke free from it's former owners mouth it quickly turned to screaming. When one of the guards drew his sword he sped up the tune and before he realised it all the teeth of those unfortunate to be there were dancing on the table amidst a plenthora of screams.

He and his host of wandering crowns disappeared into the night...