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Gravemaskin
 
PostPosted: Mon, Apr 27 2015, 9:29 AM 

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Joined: 29 Jul 2007
Location: Norway: Home of the Trolls

The Original Amians.

by Thomas Quinn

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Thousands of years ago, a vast empire graced the surface of Amia, though this empire was not like any other seen before. This was the Mylock empire. Now forgotten by time, their cities sprawled upon the surface of Amia like a great web, connecting all corners together. Their empire had wise elders to govern them and guide their civilization forward. Magi gathering knowledge and lore in vast towers that would break trough the skyline of their cities. Even artists gracing the streets with captivating song to spread mirth and beautiful paintings and other works of art that will never be seen by another soul again. Very much like our own, their empire was a thriving one, their influence spreading further with each passing generation. Alas this time of peace would not linger for their people. Like a great plague, an illithid sky ship descended upon the mylocks, blackening out the sun. From this nautiloid, the mindflayers descended upon the isle, covering it in death and shadow. The mylocks gathered their best and brightest, rallying a valiant defense against the invaders, but to no avail. Time and time again, they lost more people, more cities until none remained. Their elders lay slain within the halls they had governed from or enslaved to serve the whims of their new wicked masters. Friends and kin that had been culled from one city were turned against their own people, forced to slaughter their own kind at the behest of their new masters as the illithid invasion continued.Image

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Within weeks, the entire civilization was brought into utter ruin. Not a single structure was left standing upon the surface, only rubble and the shattered dreams of a people remained. The few who had managed to hide in the great cave networks below, were barely able to survive. It would take hundreds, if not thousands of years before they were able to begin recovering.

They began building cities underground, ever fearful that the tentacle faced scurge would once again emerge, the ruins of the Mylock hills was once one of these new cities. Their new fledgling civilization began to emerge, stories of the great plague became more and more like legend as they continued to recover. But once again, their people would suffer under the threat of invaders. The elven kingdoms spread towards Amia. If it were the elves whom started the wars, or if the Mylocks did so out of fear of invaders, has been lost to time. However a great war ignited. The mylocks suffered further setbacks and eventually, they were driven back far enough for the founding of Caras Ravana to take place. As the Mylocks had been driven back to their last stronghold near Stonehold, the elves continued to spread their influence upon the isle. Before long, Caras Ravana was itself a ruin, the elven people having moved on to found Winya Ravana. Humans arrived on the isle and Fort Bendir was establish to help fortify trade routes, further herding the battered Mylock people.

With the emergence of the Dark Flight, Stonehold was renamed into Wyrmhold and the mylocks still living there were enslaved by the wicked chromatic dragons. The few scraps of civilization that they had managed to hold on to, were ripped away at the hand of their new masters. Their elders were forced to work in mines and smithies, creating weapons of war for their young to wield. Their young now forced to work as shock troops for the Dark Flight, they were thrown away upon the flames of a war that was not theirs. By the time the Dark Flight was destroyed, the fate of the Mylock people was long gone. Those that survived, fled back to the ruins of their old city in the Mylock Hills, perhaps finding comfort down there within the halls of their ancestors. All they had built, now ripped away. Thousands upon thousands of years of suffering and hardship had ripped away that which once had made them civilized and now only anger and ferocity remains.

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The once proud and thriving Mylocks, the Original Amians, are now little more than barbarian survivors, hunted for sport by adventuring parties hoping to make a name for themselves or find some treasure of note.
It seems the fate of the first Amians shall always be one of loss and hardship, and that the sun has set upon their greatness long ago. I can only hope that their downfall will serve as a reminder to those of us whom are here now, so that we may take care and make sure we do not suffer the same fate.

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