Lore:Lunar Champion Tablets

Book Compilation
Seen In:	Elder Scrolls Online (Wrathstone, Elsweyr), (Scalebreaker, Dragonhold)
Note
This is a compilation of books assembled for easier reading.

Lunar Champion Tablets

Tablets detailing Khunzar-ri's Adventures

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Behold the Lunar Champion

Welcome, honored guest, to the Hall of the Lunar Champion.

Behold the life of the Laughing Lion, Khunzar-ri! Visions of his humble origins, his grand adventures, and his tragic end at the hands of The Betrayer all lie before you.

Three tablets rest upon altars in this sacred chamber. Approach each with a pious, laughing heart. By the light of Jone, the text shall become manifest, allowing you to walk the path of our greatest hero.

Behold Khunzar-ri's Betrayal

Brave Khunzar-ri, who sprung from the womb with Azurah's secrets upon his lips and Alkosh's great strength branded upon his claws, prowled the world alone for many years. But his laughing spirit yearned for fellowship. As is often the case with great heroes, Khunzar-ri had many friends, but few true companions. To those lucky few he did call "Kra'Jun battle-friend," he showed nothing but kindness and fiercest loyalty.

Alas! The price of loyalty is, too often, betrayal! In the ancient Halls of Colossus, the foul Betrayer broke the bonds of Kra'Jun and struck Khunzar-ri a mortal blow. In so doing, he struck his own name from history, his own head from his body, and his own honor from his soul.

We remember the sleek Khunzar-ri, we remember the betrayal, but we do not remember the Betrayer. May his thirst for fame and power be quenched only by the choking dust of obscurity!

These are the words, and the words are true.

Behold Khunzar-ri's Guile

Many and many were Khunzar-ri's triumphs. In time, his victories grew like sugar-blossoms in vast fields beyond counting. Mountains of fragrant garlands, heady wines, and great sacks of gold filled every room of his grand treasure palace. Indeed, all the riches of the sixteen kingdoms stretched out before him—begging to be claimed! But wealth, like fruit, grows sour with age. At length, he resolved to give it away.

And so, with a joyful heart, the Laughing Lion set out in search of a worthy recipient. In a fortnight, he found himself at the creaking gate of an ancient adeptorium. So drafty and bleak was the structure that even the rats refused to dwell within it. Only a pawful of wretched adepts made their home there. With sullen eyes and threadbare vestments, the sad Khajiit did naught but attend to their chores—shuffling from cloister to chapel with the pathetic gait of wounded birds.

Brave Khunzar-ri felt his chest swell with purpose. Surely, these were the rightful inheritors of his vast fortune. But when he offered the riches to the order's abbot, Savda-jo, the elderly cleric shook his head. "We need only thin soup and prayer to sustain us, Pahmar-kin." And with that he prepared to return to his chambers. Khunzar-ri gazed over the old cleric's shoulder and saw the pleading faces of his adepts—faces desperate for even the modest joys of a bowl of sweetrice.

Thinking quickly, the Laughing Lion roared, "Wait, abbot! Khunzar-ri will make you a wager. If this one can pluck the Moons from the sky and bury them at your feet, you must accept any gift he offers. If Khunzar-ri fails, he will forsake his call to adventure and join you here in this adeptorium forever. What say you?"

Savda-jo, filled with eagerness to see the proud warrior humbled, quickly nodded his assent.

Brave Khunzar-ri smiled broadly, knowing that his victory was assured. With a joyful spirit, the hero bounded over the sour abbot's head and landed heavily upon the adeptorium's roof. The structure's ancient spire creaked and sighed as the massive Pahmar-raht clawed his way to its summit. And there, to the abbot's great dismay, Khunzar-ri plucked an iron effigy of Jone and Jode from the wood with one great yank. When the Laughing Lion returned, he quickly scooped a pawful of clay from the ground and dropped the statue in the hole with a flourish. Savda-jo, thus humbled, rent his gaments and wandered into the wilderness, never to be seen again.

With a fortnight's effort, Khunzar-ri transported his great wealth to the adeptorium. In honor of the scheme that liberated them, the new abbot renamed the shrine Moongrave and assured the Laughing Lion that he would always have a place among the grateful adepts.

Behold the wonders of a hero's guile!

These are the words, and the words are true.

Behold Khunzar-ri's Ambition

Khunzar-ri was not a humble Khajiit. Even as a young cat on the prowl, he dreamed of grand adventures, honor, fame, and a place in history. And with his own claws and a positive disposition, he achieved all that and more. But he did so in a way that endeared him to others. It was something in his smile.

Take, for example, the time he hired a scribe to follow him around and record his exploits. The scribe, an unimposing Alfiq whose name has been forgotten, dutifully wrote down pages and pages of anecdotes from the daily life of Khunzar-ri. She constantly remained by his side, despite circumstances, danger, or propriety, in order to carry out her assigned duties. Anequina became so annoyed by the Alfiq's presence, that she refused to associate with Khunzar-ri until the scribe departed. Khunzar-ri shrugged and wished Anequina well during their sabbatical. "Too much of Zar makes the heart beat too fast," said Khunzar-ri with a sigh as she walked away.

A few days later, as dusk spread across the land, Khunzar-ri and his Alfiq scribe came upon a young Khajiit warrior. He appeared upset and unsure what to do, holding his spear and staring across the stream at a trio of ravening river trolls. "You seem troubled, friend warrior," said Khunzar-ri, his scribe writing furiously to record every word. The young warrior turned. "Those trolls attacked this one's village," he said, "killing some, maiming others, and stealing the great wamasu that was roasting over the village cooking pit for our Festival of the Two Moons. This one came to retrieve the carcass, but fear of the three trolls stays his hand. This one will be marked a coward and never gain honor and prestige in his own home."

Khunzar-ri considered the young warrior, the spear, and the three river trolls across the way. He held out his hand and motioned for the young warrior to give him the spear. Once he had tested the weight and straightness of the weapon, Khunzar-ri called to the trolls. "River trolls of a most ugly and disgusting countenance," he yelled, "this one has a gift for you!" Curious, the three river trolls lined up to see who had dared call out to them. They looked like a single body with three heads, one peaking out from behind another. "Perfect!" said Khunzar-ri, and he threw the spear with all his might. It pierced all three trolls and pinned them to a nearby tree, where their blood flowed down to feed its roots.

"Go," Khunzar-ri said to the young warrior," retrieve the festival meal and return to your village as a hero."

"But Khunzar-ri," the Alfiq scribe asked, "that was your kill! And a great kill it was, too! What of your ambition?"

Khunzar-ri shrugged. "Zar's ambition is as strong as ever, but the young warrior needs this honor more. Besides, there will be an even more spectacular adventure tomorrow, Zar just knows it!"

These are the words, and the words are true.