The Primians are gone. Some met their final death, some ascended to godhood, and some met stranger fates. But one of them provably remains- the Beast King. Charged with protecting the mortal races from the folly of war, he started his reign as an enlightened leader who cared for his people and wished for them to live in peace and prosperity.
The worst possible thing that could have occurred came to pass. He succeeded.
For a brief golden age there was no war, there were no warlords, and there was no strife. Beast King grew bored.
Given prosperity, these new mortal races opted to find their own ways. They listened less and less to Beast King's tales of war and agony, instead turning eager and hungry eyes on one another's lands. As the Primian's scars slowly healed, the others of his kind ascended to godhood. One by one they left to a higher plane, or died, until only this one was left. By that time he was no longer interested in maintaining the fragile peace.
Beast King wants an age that never was- a misremembered paradise where his word was law. He does not remember the whistletongue of the Bat Peoples, the now lost silk histories of the Spider Folk, the ancient songs of the first elves that speak of the making of the world. He's forgotten so much of what was, and remembers only jealousy for the primians-turned-deities who abandoned him to a world of pain and struggle.
Beast King wants to rule, uncontested, and he will do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Sadly he isn't nearly as competent at being an enlightened God King as he believes himself to be.
Todd M Maccarone
2020-01-14 04:06:49 +0000 UTC