The place called RhyDin had stood for as long as any of the Ancients could recall. Before the time of writing, before some of the mountains had risen out of the seas from the Breaking or the eclectic races had flooded into the realm until it had slowed to its present-day trickle.
Centuries passed and man and other races had claimed the lands as theirs in one way or another. Battles had bloodied the ground and grasses. They had felled the trees and quarried stone to build homes, great buildings, and places of utter leisure and pleasure.
Somewhere still at the dawning of influx of so many races and ways, came too those called Gargoyle. There were only a few at first, their images enough to spur carvings in stone along buildings to frighten the light-hearted or to encourage the straw-brained sons and daughters of Humans into thinking that they were mythical creatures that had come to do them harm if they were not pious enough to their religion or the cause of the majority.
But the Gargoyles were real, made very much of flesh and bone. Long ago, they were guardians and protectors not of rooftops of man and other creatures. But a rift had come between and wars had waged until the reasons for these things were forgotten. Sorcerers, creatures, and man themselves turned the tides against the 'evil beasts' called the Gargoyles and set to kill them.
All but a fraction of those thousands were killed all those centuries ago, and those that had been able to survive and escape from the bloodshed were cursed and put under the ways and spells of much stronger forces — to hinder them, to keep them alike, but to also kill off some of what they were.
For a great passage of time, those that existed at night and turned to stone by day. They were able to seek out dozens more thought slain. But their numbers had deminished. Some could not bear to be trapped in the stone for so long at a time and whithered in their existance until they could not turn from the stone anymore.
One of the youngest of these ancient ones was called Isha'valt, daughter of D'Loerai. In time, she would come to known as Isha Lore. The rooftops of where the Humans and others dwelts eventually became her walkways and the old cathedral was her perch with the dawn of each morning.
It came to pass that the strong, female gargoyle came into the inn of the place called the Red Dragon. She perched often in the rafters to watch the interaction of so many others in the great room below. One night in particular came one called Galen Dracos. His ways, his manners, and subtle strengths were enough to draw Isha from watching him to speaking with him and others he kept his company with.
Years more would pass, with tales of what and who they were to thrum along in the undercurrent of others' greater accomplishments and doings. It did not matter to these two, but here within these pages lay stories mundane and grand of two eternal souls that have known great strife and enduring love.
Centuries passed and man and other races had claimed the lands as theirs in one way or another. Battles had bloodied the ground and grasses. They had felled the trees and quarried stone to build homes, great buildings, and places of utter leisure and pleasure.
Somewhere still at the dawning of influx of so many races and ways, came too those called Gargoyle. There were only a few at first, their images enough to spur carvings in stone along buildings to frighten the light-hearted or to encourage the straw-brained sons and daughters of Humans into thinking that they were mythical creatures that had come to do them harm if they were not pious enough to their religion or the cause of the majority.
But the Gargoyles were real, made very much of flesh and bone. Long ago, they were guardians and protectors not of rooftops of man and other creatures. But a rift had come between and wars had waged until the reasons for these things were forgotten. Sorcerers, creatures, and man themselves turned the tides against the 'evil beasts' called the Gargoyles and set to kill them.
All but a fraction of those thousands were killed all those centuries ago, and those that had been able to survive and escape from the bloodshed were cursed and put under the ways and spells of much stronger forces — to hinder them, to keep them alike, but to also kill off some of what they were.
For a great passage of time, those that existed at night and turned to stone by day. They were able to seek out dozens more thought slain. But their numbers had deminished. Some could not bear to be trapped in the stone for so long at a time and whithered in their existance until they could not turn from the stone anymore.
One of the youngest of these ancient ones was called Isha'valt, daughter of D'Loerai. In time, she would come to known as Isha Lore. The rooftops of where the Humans and others dwelts eventually became her walkways and the old cathedral was her perch with the dawn of each morning.
It came to pass that the strong, female gargoyle came into the inn of the place called the Red Dragon. She perched often in the rafters to watch the interaction of so many others in the great room below. One night in particular came one called Galen Dracos. His ways, his manners, and subtle strengths were enough to draw Isha from watching him to speaking with him and others he kept his company with.
Years more would pass, with tales of what and who they were to thrum along in the undercurrent of others' greater accomplishments and doings. It did not matter to these two, but here within these pages lay stories mundane and grand of two eternal souls that have known great strife and enduring love.