( Primordial, hm. It certainly would make it much more difficult to defect to a thing that hardly knows or cares for your existence! )
Some monsters were humans once too, no?
( That sounds philosophical, and maybe it can be, but he means it truly literally. Some monsters really were once human, even if Syrlya's weren't. Etharis can't be the only land whose people and creatures are at times interchangeable. )
But some, too, are only manifestations of the natural way of things. I heard something interesting from a friend of mine who's been around for some centuries by now.
( He takes a sip of his drink, considering the pretty words of an untrustworthy bard, whose every truth lined up with all sources he could find— any of them could find. )
Some thousands of years ago, in my home, there was a beast that would appear, and in its wake, things would end. Where it stepped, the soil was barren; where it was seen, no warmth could grow. People decayed; animals changed. Some things simply ceased to be.
It was very small, once, and now it is larger than one can imagine— or so the stories go. It is said, also, that beyond our one continent, there is no other land in the ocean, though there once used to be. There is now only us, on an endless sea, and a hungry, growing beast.
Perhaps your dragons are not ravenous out of error, but because it is the natural way of things. It is the right of things that live to resist decay, but, still, don't all things end?
no subject
Some monsters were humans once too, no?
( That sounds philosophical, and maybe it can be, but he means it truly literally. Some monsters really were once human, even if Syrlya's weren't. Etharis can't be the only land whose people and creatures are at times interchangeable. )
But some, too, are only manifestations of the natural way of things. I heard something interesting from a friend of mine who's been around for some centuries by now.
( He takes a sip of his drink, considering the pretty words of an untrustworthy bard, whose every truth lined up with all sources he could find— any of them could find. )
Some thousands of years ago, in my home, there was a beast that would appear, and in its wake, things would end. Where it stepped, the soil was barren; where it was seen, no warmth could grow. People decayed; animals changed. Some things simply ceased to be.
It was very small, once, and now it is larger than one can imagine— or so the stories go. It is said, also, that beyond our one continent, there is no other land in the ocean, though there once used to be. There is now only us, on an endless sea, and a hungry, growing beast.
Perhaps your dragons are not ravenous out of error, but because it is the natural way of things. It is the right of things that live to resist decay, but, still, don't all things end?