Monolith Preface

The beginning of the end for a world whose people foolishly forgot. All, but one that is. It is a world dominated by mer, where men are the minority...but perhaps that will not be for long.

Far away from the lands of mer, where the world's wheels turned and nature was oft' ignored, embers burned red and yellow eyes watched as the fire's last life began to fade into the earth.

They had forgotten, all of them. The memories of times before, traditions born of fear for life, a need to survive. They had simply forgotten in their lazy selfish minds.

So the embers died and the yellow eyes were joined by a thin line stretching into a smile, which belonged to the same face.

Ikrat could wake now. The fires were gone. The mer could pay now, their protections worn out, their fear rendered null, memories all fuzzy and dull.

Ikrat could spread. Ikrat could walk, run, and hunt. For without the fires...man's story could be spun.

It was a shame that they had forgotten.

For loss of life is shameful and Ikrat is no one's prey.

. . . .

Thunder rolled into the plains of Azrith where, nestled against the mountains at their far end, laid the humble village of Kzran. As they watched the clouds cross the sky to reach them, many praised the weather, as it, with any luck, meant the end of the long drought. To them it was a blessing, but often is it that the beliefs of man and mer are misguided.

So it was that the dark clouds passed over and unleashed a barrage of vengeful lightning. To the mer who ran for cover it was as if the sky had split upon them and unleashed its fury. Why would nature batter them so? What was it they had done?

They had forgotten.

So the storm passed, but few were left alive to appreciate its departure.

. . . .

As it had in Azrith, the mysterious storms began to make an appearance across the lands of Olphas. However, one place remained untouched by the devastation of nature's wrath. A small region known as Baeterian, which was the last stronghold of humanity. In its capital, Baersi there was a single citadel from the old age and within it worshipped one man by the name of Calase. His prayers went to the most ancient of beings, one whose name mer had long forgotten and many a man had shunned. Still, the old man's prayers continued as did his son's. It was their efforts which placated the ancient one and staved off nature's storms.

Yet they went thankless as who would think it the actions of a man, which shaped the very course of nature? None, for men were without magic unlike the haughty mer in all their majesty and might.

So it was that one old man preserved humanity, but he was one man...and men do not live forever.

Author's Note

Tell me if anyone is interested in this character as I could very well continue following them through this world.

Other feedback is more than welcome :)