In the annals of the Holy Verses and its maximized scope of life and legends, it is perhaps Sal the “Frog” that holds the title of “most unlikely legend” when it comes to the naturalized interdimensional canon of culture and history – at least, among those legends that are true.
Sal’s life started prior to the creation of most ancient civilizations, but still in the midst of things. His birthplace, the now entirely obliterated Zealand, had only recently fallen to the armies of the half-dragons. It couldn’t have been more than a few decades between his rearing as a Frog Clan hunter in the nearby shoal swamps, and the grand battle of Zealand’s legendary “Order of the Dragon Slayers” against the unending realm-crossing hordes of the dragon-kin.
Hopping about the dense Zealander forests proved to be a demanding but satisfying life for the young frog, learning the ropes and daily patterns of the hunt from his elders. By day he hunted, swam about, and generally made a mockery of the woods he called home with his quickly increasing skills. At night he enjoyed long regalings of stories about heroic frogs saving their honorable and righteous clan from the hideous and detestable evils of the neighboring clans, monstrous killers from the snake, the bird, and the boar clans. One clan was more hated than any other, however: the demon clan, said to be invincible upright creatures who would kill and kill with an unquenchable bloodthirst – unmeasurably evil animals that used teeth and claws made from mountains.
In his heart stoked the flame of a hero, and one day it all the hunting and dreaming came to a head.
On the holiday of the firefly festival, Sal and the clan went out to swim in the rivers for the annual festival race. One of the younger hunters caught themselves in a stray undercurrent and began slipping down towards a waterfall.
Sal and the other frogs all saw it happen. He immediately leapt (swam) to action, risking his own life to save his friend. In theory, it was a simple solution: If he and enough of his fellow hunters could make a chain, they could kick their way back to a nearby tree. All Sal needed was three more frogs and they could easily reel back and save him from the fall: no match, he believed, for the legendary bravery of the Frog Clan.
Grasping the young frog after much effort, Sal turned back to grab the next frog’s hand.
No one else came with him.
As he and the youth peeled over the edge of the waterfall, Sal stared straight at the dozens of gazes looking back at him from the relative safety of the river entry.
They fell, but only one made it out unscathed.
Sal pulled his friend from the thresh, the little frog torn against the sharpened rocked at the bottom of the fall. All they could do was sit by the stream bank and exchange their passing graces before his death:
…“Out of everyone, I knew I’d see you last,” the young hunter said.
“Why?” Sal asked back.
“Out of everyone, only you go to the danger.”
And at that simple exchange, Sal is left with out a friend in the world, having lost one in body, and the others in spirit.
He returned with the young hunter’s body to the encampment as a changed frog. The clan leader applauded his bravery, but it was apparent to everyone that Sal’s opinion of them all had changed for good.
Sal refused to believe in a society that would preach virtues and bravery, only for them to flounder when it mattered most.
That night, despite the festival and the clan leader’s daughter awaiting him at the seat of honor, Sal gathered up his things and left in the dark of the night. He knew he could not help them unless they wanted to be helped – he would have to find a way for them to listen to him.
“If the Demon Clan is so villainized by these hypocrites,” he thought, “perhaps they are also the ones with the answer to how to live a life of integrity.”
Leaving behind his clan, his position, and the likely hand of the head’s daughter in the coming season’s spawn, Sal hopped off in search of an answer that he was not sure existed.
He did find his answer, but he found much, much more with it: traveling down the ruins of the massive castles and cathedrals, he finds someone unexpected– a man who held out for decades against the backdrop of his degrading kingdom.
Sal knew of his people as the Demon Clan, but the man called himself Zealand’s very last knight.
And the rest of that tale is for the book, thank you very much.
