Arth was born in a small village that was close to Porter Bar before  it became all swamp land.  The people all made a good living as farmers and they were prosperous and well off. As a child Ath was content.  He stayed in the village and kept the goat herds and helped in the fields.

As he grew though, he came to be more at home with his goats and his sheep, that with the people of the village, and started to spend more time in the hills.  Then just after his seventeenth birthday he bought his flocks back to the village and announced that he was going to become a hermit in the high hills.  He sold his few possessions in the village and used the gold to buy a few goats of his own.  He settled into a set of caves that he had found by the Arkheim Circle. and started to tend his flocks and meditate.  Before long word started to trickle down the village that Ath had had become even more reclusive.  He still let the shepherds stay over night occasionally, but he was rumoured to spend more and more time in the depths of his cave.

Years passed and Ath achieved a reputation of being both wise and powerful.. He could brew potions from the mountain flowers that would cure most illnesses, and occasionally people would travel to his distant cave just to question him. Always he had an answer.  And always the petitioner knew it was the right answer, even if it was the one he didn't want.

Arth saw the rise of Yarma, but did nothing.  Neither did he deny Yarma when he came in search of wisdom.  He left in the same way as many of the other petitioners, knowing he had been told a terrible and unpalatable truth.

And then, as Yarma travelled he world gathering new knowledge, Arth stayed in his cave harbouring his strength and preparing against the day  he foresaw.  Those who came to him noticed a change.  he seemed older and more serious, more distracted from the worldly things - and they all said, more powerful as if he was husbanding his strength.  he carved a great statue of a winged chariot and its horse, using his magic arts, and people came to admire the statue because of its fine detail and brilliant workmanship, but Ath ignored them.  The be built a huge cauldron also out of stones from the, mountains and used his magic to meld and decorate it with the most beautiful designs.

About this time, the elder races had lost patience with Yarma and were starting to build their armies to destroy the upstart human.  the people of the village and the surrounding towns came to Ath, asking his help in preparing for the wars, but he refused them.  later they came back in strength demanding his aid, and still he refused them.  This time though they tried to force the old man to help them and met the full fury of his rage.    None were killed, or even hurt badly, but all fled before his mighty rage and none dared venture that way again.  A few did try, to ask Ath for potions as they had before, but no one seemed to be able to fund the mage or his caves. It was as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Then came the times of war' and still Arth wasn't seen.  Not right up until the final day of battle, when Yarma walled down the fire rain.  Then as people and elder folk  fled the terror, Arth came.  he was driving his stone chariot, the stone horses galloping through the air, towing the flying chariot behind.  And behind the chariot came the cauldron, continually dipping down to earth to let the terrified people climb in. No matter how many climbed in, there always seemed to be room for at least one more, but still he could not save every one.  After the fire rain and the great flood and tidal wave, Arth flew his horse and chariot back to shore.  But it flew slower and lower and barely reached the shores of the great swamp that now lay where their home land had been.  it was then that they realised that Arth was the channel for all, of the magic, and as they fell slowly to earth they wondered that one man could hold so, much power.  Even then he  managed to maintain the effort, standing hands spread to the sky, while all the people climbed out of he cauldron.  At the final count there were 729 people, and this what we now know as the number of Arth.  Slowly, he sank to his knees, expiring in front of them as people fell to their knees in thanks for their lives.  Before they could comfort his body though, a wondrous thing happened, and a mystic light surrounded the chariot.  Slowly the horse woke from its slumber, and again started to draw the chariot, this time rising in slowly circles into the heavens above.

The local people built a small  shrine that day, and came here to give thanks for their lives.  And gradually Arth became their protector.  When the city was built here, the swamp people soon moved in, and Arth became the protector of the city as well.

And that children is the story of why we all go to give our thanks to Arth, and his priests, for their protection ...