There is an old legend that tells of a wandering adventurer who became lost in a misty forest during the
rainy season. The near-constant rainfall and blowing winds made the forest of a shivering place, where no lone man could survive for long.

This adventurer seemed no different from the others at first. He called upon the World spirits, the Īoles, and begged for their help in his survival. Seeing nothing special, the three Īoles - Abiulael, Dashmadi, and Yaadubar - left him alone to suffer. Too often had they fallen prey to the vicious men who trampled on the precious terrain of the Earth.

On the first day, the adventurer found solace in the sound of the creeks and brooks, and sat in meditation. He pondered life, and Īole Abiulael, the Great Bird, began to consider the man.

On the second, the adventurer happened upon a clearing which beared in its center three small bushes with the thickest violet fruits he'd ever seen; but he recognized these as the Forbidden Fruits of legend, and strayed away and instead wandered longer so as to find different sustenance. Īole Dashmadi, the Benevolent Ferret, conversed with his brothers.

On the third and final day, the adventurer fell to the ground, crippled and starving. Before him appeared a weak and hungry family of three, armed for survival with nothing but a basket of soft apples. His mind begged for him to take from them, and he nearly did; but it was for naught, as his morals still stood. The third Īole, Yaadubar, the Mighty Wolf, approved.

The family of three transformed before the adventurer's eyes into three great beasts: A bird, a ferret, and a wolf. The three Īoles had returned to him, in his weakest of times. A smell of rain was in the air, and the first droplets fell, but they did not touch him nor did they the Īoles.

"Human man," screeched Abiulael.

"Your heart is pure," Dashmadi squeaked.

"And although you are reaching the end of your existence," Yaadubar snarled, "You will be immortalized for all humanity to see and revere; a God of purity, the legendary Ñulai."

And the adventurer perished, but his soul did not die. It rose through the mists, the rain, the winds, and into the stars, where it remained for an eternity and then some. Though man himself has forgotten the Ñulai's deed that redeemed our kind, his legacy will live on in the loving memory of the Īoles; still waiting to someday find the next purest of heart, the next symbol of love, kindness, purity.

And the Īoles are in hiding, asleep. They await.

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