"I see us finally beginning to understand much of what we have sought to know about the Colossi and the Latent. I see terrible strife, likely comparable to our conflict with the Children of Bronze. I see much changing."
- Apothar Shum Sheroy.
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A man of curiosity, doomed to the wastes and searching for reason - the reason that many survivors ask upon their lips: "why". Perhaps a greater understanding of this new hell would better answer Shum's question, for all the voices that could answer it were buried beneath the sands of time. If he could not compel the sand itself to speak, then perhaps he could hope to make sense as to what was buried beneath it, limited in capacity as it was.
As all humble beginnings go, Shum Sheroy could not manage this alone, especially for a man who could not call The Disc his home. He found a sponsor that reflected his interests:
The Astronomers of Q'tolip.
Though they would not coddle him, for immediately they expected greatness, a quick study that left no room for fools. Shum Sheroy would not disappoint, proving his willingness and affinity for learning, taking to the shallow roots that availed himself to his study. Of Colossi and the Sibilant Empire, of the Caliphate and more. All of these tangled together into a single path that lead him to an unexpected, dark place of this world.
The long, dark shadow cast by the titanic Inheritors.
Under the instruction of his Apothar, Zul Nor - who's name is Starlight -, Shum descended into the forlorn places beneath the earth and beyond, following the scattershot belongings of these unusual beings, beholding what they coveted so dearly and defended by spell, blade and arrow. The silence of the grave gave frustrating clues and uncertain conclusions, portraying the calamity of a distant yesteryear, yet none of the provocation that gave way to it.
Along came a narrator.
One bound to the same anger and vigilance as his kin, yet strangely curious of Shum Sheroy's curiosity of them - they had come to blows with treasure seekers before, but it was anomaly to find one that looked for them. In the cryptic ways that the ancient races speak, it spoke to him of a time of blessed peace and love, until the children of bronze - the orcs - became infested with rage and descended into their homes and accost them with their axes. That somehow, the severity of this slight gave way to a curse by pathos alone, and how even now it reverberates through the present day and into the future, inflicting upon them a dread ire that clings to them as more than a bitter history, but as an oil that cannot be shed from the skin, yet alone the soul.
The plight of The Inheritors revealed to him, at last, yet not wholly in a way that was explained with merely words. It was engraved upon him, searing the soul with the fires of their endless grudge, bursting from his core and leaping out of every orifice it could, manifesting even in the fires that danced in his eyes. There was many questions left unanswered, and so much that was not confirmed, but, at the very least, he had began to understand.
But what good is knowledge, if it is not used?
History was repeating itself in The Disc, for the Thousand Clans had come together under a warlord - Iakmes- to lay waste with an anger that had consumed their rank and file, tempered by false notions that the bloodletting would lead to the salvation of The Disc. Reaching deep within himself, Shum, in the inexplicable ways that one wields fel powers and hexes, turned this power upon its original source, searing upon the mystic rituals of the Mupp clan with a ruinous anger that turned stone-like flesh to brittle clay.
The Mupp Clan, whom had been the cause of so many dead within The Scald, had now been broken over his knee, and by his hand, Shum Sheroy turned the frontlines of the war effort to the favor of the armies of The Disc - at a cost that only he may ponder, for the fate for one's eternal soul is a constant concern.
With Iakmes broken and his horde scattered, one cannot help but ask the question when armed with this new knowledge:
Did we break the cycle, or repeat it?
Only time will tell. Time, and understanding of the last turning.
Those with great curiosity, a tolerance for failure and an undying want for truest understanding at the heart of the divide wrought between future and past, will find common ground with Apothar Shum Sheroy, be you his apprentice or cabal cohort, searching for the barest shreds of truth in an age long consumed by the ash.
This entry was posted by the Scribes of the Sublime Garden, whom graciously received bribes for their expedited workload.