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| - Far under the Misty Peaks...a great wyvern stirred. Small, granted, was this wyvern, but also great, in his malice and deceit and evil. His name was Rashnak once... A Gigginox spent and ruined in an ancient place under the deeps of the world where no man no wyverian had dared delve for many hundreds of years. This creature, with what remained of his terrible people, remained poisoned and evil within the damp places of the world. They reproduced reluctantly and tended to eat their bastard children. Under the World Under the world lies an ancient path. 'Twas made by those whom are dead.
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| abstract
| - Far under the Misty Peaks...a great wyvern stirred. Small, granted, was this wyvern, but also great, in his malice and deceit and evil. His name was Rashnak once... A Gigginox spent and ruined in an ancient place under the deeps of the world where no man no wyverian had dared delve for many hundreds of years. This creature, with what remained of his terrible people, remained poisoned and evil within the damp places of the world. They reproduced reluctantly and tended to eat their bastard children. However they were unique in one way... In their age they had studied and learned the tongues of man and wyverians, and were skilled in both, and of their destruction and miserable creation that was naught save evil, the language of them was alas that which was fair, and they were glad, like men and Wyverians. The creatures never taught their tongue to others save the cave walls between which they dwelt and had but no choice in the matter. Rashnak stirred. He was awakening from his month-long sleep. He could feel a great power for kindness seeking his thought, his attention. It angered the wizened old creature. Awake he did, and feeling a way, lept across his cave to the high levels. Now was he at the roots of the mountains, and glad he was, for his seeker was close at hand. So he waited, for many long days, awaiting the arrival of the creature whom had disturbed his sleep. Long did he wait ere this creature showed his battered face. It was a human; long years had passed ere Rashnak had lain sight upon one, and he was disturbed, for this creature was naught but fair and Rashnak was not. Rashnak wished of this creature to quickly tell his reasons for coming to his sacred lands. "I come with tidings, O Great One! The Men of Limestaen wish of your friendship! Assist and befriend us and Our Lord Fyrulosor shall gift to you a mighty ring, as of old did he to his allies! What say you?" The fair one said. "...What say I? Nay, what say you! For I have great curiosity as for you, and what business one of the light has in a place so dark. Why would those of good seek the assistance of those who are naught 'side', neither good nor evil? Why should one so fair come upon one so ugly to befriend him? Tell me, what need be so urgent as to arouse me from my great sleep." Rashnak rumbled. "We have need of thine aid! We seek to destroy the bane of us, those living in the lands of Moga! What say you?" The man questioned again. This time, Rashnak did not take it so lightly. "...I have no reason to aid thee, nor thine kin. I have reason, however, to smote your ruin about these halls." Rashnak said and with the fell words, flung the fair man to the side, crawling upon him. "Show mercy, O Great One!" The man called. "Mercy?! Long have our people, the lurkers of caves and shadows...long have they been shown the darkness of the world... We remember dark places which others have never seen...ancient places beneath the world of which no man dare remember. And there we must dwell... We know naught but evil. We do not take the side of good for we have been shown none; however we wish not to draw the attention of the light and so we remain neutral. Remain we shall. Go no further, seek none my kin. The way is shut. It was made in the dark days of the world, by the ancient peoples who are now dead, and those ghastly figures keep it. They shall not yield to strangers. The way is shut..." And with those last words, he stood up, leaped opposite his head, and remained there, still as stone would be... And there he remains, guarding yet the ancient passage of the Ghastly, neither living nor dead, a spirit of stone and wyvern which none come upon save his own brethren and peers, and the air of which is so close that all feel the weight of ages bearing down on them as they touch it. Under the World Under the world lies an ancient path. 'Twas made by those whom are dead.
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