“This is a place of silent worship. I bow before the dead gods whose names are lost to time.
Forgotten even by creatures that they themself created. If even the highest beings can perish in oblivion then what of me? If this silver thread is to be cut, who will remember me, who will shed a tear, who will sing a song in my name? The gods are silent.
Now I know that Time is the true monster. It fears no blade nor magic, but all fear it. I take a handful of dust that once was godly. Now when I myself will become dust no one would be able to tell the difference.
Forget my name. Now I am godlike.”
The Song of Creation, Folric the Traveler


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2022-09-22 09:22:17 +0000 UTCSheo of Isles
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2022-09-08 13:32:53 +0000 UTCJohn
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