The Lore of Artificer Kurama of the Steppe

Millenia ago on a hot, humid day, Kurama followed his nose into a dried-out ravine. He was always a curious one but this bordered on reckless. Ignoring the dangers of the rocky cliffside, he started to dig uncontrollably. It seems to have no bottom, but he smelled something more enticing than he had ever encountered before. It was a new scent, putrid like the pony-eating flowers of Korrofok, yet it was still a gentle, inviting stench. Training the sense of smell was the secret of his village; each member worked tirelessly to perfect their magic and their senses but few had reached Kurama's power.

As the sun beat down on the hot, rocky slope, Kurama began to dig, burrowing deeper and deeper searching for the scent. *THUD* He had hit something. Wood. Not a root, not even some branch. This was polished wood with grain more stunning than marble. He lugged open the path to his entrance and the smell overtook him, clouding him in a sea of irresistible fumes he choked and gasped for air, slowly drifting into a fearful rest. He heard a voice. "I've been waiting for you...." it said as Kurama struggled to open his eyes. "And I will give you the power to fulfill your destiny." It was an old woman. As she spoke she removed a large item wrapped in dusty cloth from her robe and then kicked a tattered basket forward in the candle-lit cavern he had awoken in toward him. The basket began to hiss, there was something inside it trying to get to him. Unphased he started to open the cloth, unfolding the dusty handkerchief a snake writhed toward him. it was a horseshoe... A purple horseshoe. "Take these." She said. "...and find the forgotten runes"

Entered by: 0x8B68…7Fa0 and preserved on chain (see transaction)