The Old Man's Tale

The old man gathers all the slaves to him, the children closest. The adults form a protective ring hiding his words from the slave masters.

Long ago, when there was more to the sky then just the Five Holy Stars, our ancestors were all free people. The towns, the cities, the empires were in made by the hands of human, elf, dwarf, halfling, and gnome. Watching over it all, were the Gods. They were powerful beings, some of great good, others of great evil, who struggled over this land. Some favored us, some others, but in their struggle was a balance in which our people were free and thriving.

One goddess, however, was able to gather more strength from children she had borne here in these hard lands hidden from the eyes of the heavens. It was with this army which she assaulted her fellow divinities. Her attack surprised the others, and the war she started became one of attrition between all the gods. This dark goddess, the godslayer, survived to the last, and faced but one foe, her most mortal enemy. He was a tremendous force for good, and he gathered his own forces including the heroes of we mortals to face her. In the end, neither holy god or unholy goddess remained. This world fell to ruin, our heroes never returned from the heavens. Only the stars came to show us any mercy. Yet, the light they shed did not protect us from the darkness of the empire which came. It enslaved us, favoring the goblinoid races over our own. Yet, the blood of heroes runs in our veins, and, unless we let them, the goblins cannot force our souls to forget freedom.

To live, to thrive, we must become heroes once more. Lest we die, the dogs the goblins take us for.

The Old Man's Tale

The Dragon's Tail Pobbes