Ed note: This was inspired by a line in Shemeska's piece on Daru Ib Shamiq. If it fits with his ideas, great; if not, well, it's all screed anyway.
We are the losers.
We are the unremarked, the fallen, the forgotten. We who once ruled the greatest empires known are now forced to creep in muck and ruin. We are the princes of slime. We are the kings of despair. We are broken and cast down and discarded.
And we endure.
Long years ago, we were the titans of the only place of power. Our words were as law. Our whims were as gods. The multiverse existed for such pleasure as we could know. We feasted upon the flesh of the weak and bones of the strong, and all was joy and good.
Until they came.
Whining, mewling savages, disease-ridden and leprous with hate. Burgeoning with nameless desires and faceless lies, they crawled upon the ground like snakes begging for scraps from our table. We indulged them because we could, because it amused us, because they were vermin. And soon, we found them indispensible. Like gluttons at a banquet, they devoured all the work we could give them and begged for more. Like fools, we fed them and fed them until they burst.
The end was swift.
They burst with maggots of treachery and blood. Our glorious kingdoms were shattered from within by those who had crawled as slaves but now rose as traitors. They slew us one and all, piling our spent corpses in silent mockery of our mighty towers. We were brought low by the wretches of the House of Baern, made less than waste, and ruin fell upon us like a dying god.
But we endure.
Long years we waited. Long years of skulking in the shadows, where they could not see or know us. Long years of watching the House of Baern plot and seethe. Long years of watching them spurn the perfections of the Waste, our birthright, for the shallow splendor of the heavens. And finally we struck. We gave our secrets to one who was not fit to hear them, to one not fit to know them, to one not fit to use them. We whispered of our magics, of our glories, of what their ancestors had so desired that they willingly accepted our slavery. Soon our words ripened and bore fruit.
We were born again.
These are not our bodies. This is not our flesh. We are born of slime and offal and to slime and offal we return. Yet we do not die and we do not age and we do not forget. The treacheries of the House of Baern run deep; ours run deeper still. In the darkness we wait, unloved and unafraid. We were mighty but unsubtle, teaching the wretches our magics without concern only to be strangled on them. Now the wretches have become our teachers, and we shall show them that we are excellent students indeed.
We will have our revenge.
We have given them the multiverse. We have let them think they are the ones pulling the strings. But when the time is right, all the plotting of the House of Baern shall come to naught. When the time is right, we shall cut their strings and watch the sky collapse upon their heads and we shall laugh at their downfall and ruin. We shall take back our bodies, we shall return them to vermin, we shall make them our slaves forevermore and we shall torment them unto the end of days with what might have been. For we are strong, stronger by far than they, and all the turnings of the Wheel are but a tick of the Gears until our revenge is complete.
Because we endure.
-- Supposed excerpt from 'The Gospel of the Thrice-fold Exile'
-- baernoloths to whom they could teach more of their ancient mysteries ("one who was not fit to hear them...") until that/these baernoloth/s were seduced to the Dark(er) Side, became Apomps ("Soon our words ripened and bore fruit."), and created the gehreleths ("We were born again.") as vehicles for the spirits of the dead predecessors ("These are not our bodies...").
Hehe, one for sciborg
Nice.