Magara

Magara was only trying to find a quiet place to nap. The trials alongside Bjorn had been loud, and all they wanted was the gentle sound of amber leaves rustling in the wind. They found a soft patch of moss, placed a fallen leaf over their face to block the sun, and dozed off. When they awoke, a group of young chimps were staring, mesmerized. They saw the Elder Armour, the leaf of oneness, the squinting eyes of deep meditation. “Master,” one whispered, “what is the secret to true strength?” Magara, thinking of their rumbling stomach, mumbled, “A full belly before any long journey.” It was interpreted as a profound lesson on spiritual preparation. Their legend only grew from there, built on a series of sleepy, food-related non-sequiturs mistaken for philosophy.