Location: Arbola Forest
Timeline: Sixth Age, 45th year, Summer
As the Summer season arrived, Nathily read more of her History of the Ages, and she realized that with the passing of the years, The God of Death flourished (1).
“But what happened to the Mylars?” The elfess asked her grandsire one rainy day.
Looking up from the over-sized scroll that covered his lap, Dallegheri paused in his own studies. Removing the magnifying lenses he wore when reading (2), he stalled as he listened to the pitter patter of the rain on the roof. Finally, softly he said, “Countless Mylars perished when The Cauldron was first violently thrust into our world. After having so long lived a life of innocence, it seems to me that the elder statesmen of Terra did not know how to cope with such an unthinkable event.”
“But, I thought you said that many of our own people also lost their lives. Why did the Mylars leave the world view while we stayed a part of it?”
“A good question, my dear, yet even I do not know the answer. I would guess the Amorosi were somehow more equipped to deal with our loss better than our older brethren. Whatever the reason, our Mylar friends began to recede into the protective shadows. With their perceptions of the new concept of ‘evil’ that had entered our once tranquil world, the Mylar race was simply unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to adjust to the new normal.”
Then, laying aside the scroll so that he could give his full attention to his granddaughter, Dallegheri continued, “History began to pass over the Mylars — the once unquestioned dominating race on the planet. With time, as the Mylar culture turned inward and shunned the rest of creation, the character of their people changed as well – no longer were they the bold explorers so hungry for knowledge of the world around them, or even the wise companions of our own race. Instead they became shy and elusive. Eventually, I’d say well before the first quarter of the Second Age had passed, the once magnificent Mylar race become mysterious. By the time the Second Age came to a close – after the arrival of new races upon the planet – the Mylars become nought but the stuff of legends in the lore of only a few cultures. There are few of us in the world who have even seen a Mylar and fewer still who even care what happens to them.”
Seeing how this affected her elder, Nathily grasped his withered hand, “Oh, but that’s so very sad, Nonni. Isn’t there anything we can do for the Mylars?”
Brushing back a tear, Dallegheri smiled, “Little one, in my opinion, I believe that Mylars are still flourishing, albeit in their own way. In fact, I think the disappearance of the Little Fathers is just how the Mylars desired it to be. For, you must ask yourself, is it truly that bad to completely shun the contact of all but the animals and their forest? For that, my dear, is now the way of the Mylars: except in times of dire emergencies, these little folk want nothing to do with the rest of the world. They only want to share their lives with their beloved animals and the living arbols. “
“Were there no happy times in the Second Age?” asked a frightened Nathily.
“Hmmm. Well, certainly the Mylar Recessions that occurred throughout the early parts of the Second Age were sad indeed. In addition, Azazel ever managed to make himself a menace upon this world. Yet, our people have a way of persevering and recognizing the good in every situation, no matter how hidden it might seem. Thus, these sad happenings, all was not lost, and in fact, our Amorosi people were able to enjoy almost a full millennia of peace during this time.
“Oh, yes, the Epoch of Peace,” interrupted the elfess. “I remember reading about that era in The History! But, Nonni, the Epoch of Peace lasted only 1,000 years, while the Second Age was almost 500 years more. What happened during the rest of the time?”
Folding his hands into his robes, Dallegheri sighed, “It means that, with the passing of the Mylars, we Amorosi became the dominant race of this world. We called it The Golden Season.”
“That must have been a good thing, right?”
Dallegheri held up a cautioning finger, “Little one, in spite of the many glories of our Golden Season, our historians tell us that none of them compared to the truly happy times we shared with our lost brethren.”
And on that day, Nathily’s grandsire preferred to speak no more.
As the summer wore on, The History both fascinated and frightened Nathily — for she read about how my many evil experiments began to take a ghastly toll upon her planet. The History detailed my many exploits with successful cloning and it described in graphic (but surprisingly accurate) detail my ability to develop whole new races of creatures. Elvish scribes chronicled how I fashioned the Ogers out of the stones of my mountain homeland. They also correctly described how I forced some of the Ogers to live underwater in the lakes and rivers around The Cauldron and explained how – of those who did not die – these forsaken creatures eventually migrated the waterways to the oceans off the west coast of TerrVerde where they later evolved into the Octeti, and then spread throughout the world. (3) Later came the Morati, the walking dead, whom the Amorosi claimed I fashioned from the defiled bones of a captured elf! (4)
Nathily was barely able to read this part, and even when she did delve further in to The History’s pages, she found she could only do so during the bright light of day!
With the sun at its zenith, the elfess sat under The Grand Oaks and learned that the coming of the Morati brought The Golden Season to an abrupt end. While she was sad to read about that era of history, she was terrified when she learned that the unfortunate victims of the Morati did themselves become the walking dead!
For weeks after, she traded the harsh lessons of the dusty history books for the care-free company of her friends instead.
Yet, always was Nathily drawn back to The History of The Ages.
With the summer winding down, Nathily was again under one of the Grand Oaks in Center Vale, whiling away the balmy day reading, even as her friends went off to swim in the Eld or pick some of the last of the berries at the harvest fields.
She learned that I seemed to care little about the hurt feelings of the elves (5) – since I was soon busy bringing forth another warped abomination: the Pyrhalli. These newest creatures were made from my combination of a Mylar and some of the numerous over-sized bats and spiders that filled my dark surroundings. In addition, Nathily saw how I continued to perfect my creationary skills, for the Pyrhalli were the first race I created that could reproduce on their own!
In short, as she read The History, Nathily learned how Evil Death (that’s me!) was bringing terror to Terra such as the world had never imagined; bringing fear by warping the innocent creations of allegedly good-hearted gods of this planet (yeah, right) and then turning them into abhorrent horrors (I found them delightful), whose only intent was to prey upon the wonderful joys of the world and instead replace them with the hollow loathing of Illusia (6). She also read how my minions expanded their territory on TerrVerde east, into the Stax, west into stony Kra, and then south down to Gor, making those land and their creatures subject to my will.
This knowledge led her back to Dallegheri.
“How could we just sit back and let Azazel do all these terrible things, Nonni?” the elfess asked her elder as he sat at his desk. “Isn’t there anything we could do to stop him?”
Placing a marker on his page, Dallegheri thought a moment. Although he would have preferred to have never spoken of such matters to his beloved granddaughter, the lore masker explained, “It was because of Azazel that the Amorosi began of a necessity to learn about the concept of killing, my child.” Then, after a long pause, “With this decision, came the realization that our people, the lovers of the world, the Amorosi, sadly and finally lost our once innocence. With all my heart, I pray this never happens to you.” And Dallegheri caressed Nathily’s face, even while tears began to flow from his myopic eyes – for he knew that, because of Nathily’s destiny to become an Azora, she would of a certain come to know the concept of death. And knowing this brought the elder more grief than he had ever known.
Nathily asked no more of her grandfather on that day.
A week later, however, it was Dallegheri who came to Nathily. “Sit down, my raggamina. Listen for awhile,” he began. “Perhaps this might give you some hope. We are not in the fight against evil alone. Destiny has helped in our quest to overcome Azazel’s minions, for Destiny brought us the Pietromi.”
“The stone men?”
“As some call them.” Agreed the Lore Master. “Others call them dwarves. Whatever the case, the Pietromi race was created by the god Promesius during the still early periods of the Second Age. And like their heroic mountain god, the Pietromi prefer to live within the living stone of the earth. That is why our people referred to them as the Pietromi which in Common translates to mean ‘stone men.’ But, do you know what the dwarves call themselves?” (7)
“What?”
“The ‘drokka,’ and you have to roll the ‘r’ when you say it if you want to say it correctly.”
“Drrraawlka?” Nathily laughed as she attempted to speak the strange word.
“Yes, dear, ‘drokka.’ You’ll get it. In any event, these Pietromi were a welcome boon to our people, for they actively sought to quell the spread of the hordes.”
“But how? And why did the drrrawlka choose to fight for goodness? Are they Defenders of the Light like the Amorosi?”
Frowning slightly, the elder one advised, “Not quite, my dear. And to be clear, there is no one who is always good – not even the Amorosi.” Before his granddaughter could question him, Dallegheri pressed ahead. “Even from good races, can come a grisly idea – such is the case with our Azoras and with the Pietromi wars. While we used the concept of defense to protect ourselves, the stone men used it in an offensive sense – actively using violence as a means of revenge against their fellow man.”
“That’s horrible. Why would they do this?”
“It seems that the Pietromi were once akin to the men of Babel – a people called The Derkka. The History tells us that the Derkka did enslave their Drokka brothers, but that eventually the Drokka were led to freedom by a savior named Ajax. It was out of revenge that the Drokka then fought against their Derkka brothers – fighting a series of Drokka-Derkka Death Wars in an attempt to destroy their rivals.”
“Oh, wasn’t there any other way?” gasped Nathily.
“I would like to believe so, my dear, but in truth I know little about the ways of war. Who can say what could have happened – for we cannot go back and change what did.”
“But why did the drrrawlka do this?”
Dallegheri brightened up at the elfess’s persistence to speak that curious word. But then replied ominously, “That mystery can be solved by knowing that the drokka were created by Promesius with but one mission in life: to wipe Azazel’s vile creatures from the face of Terra!”
“Ooohh,” the elfess was taken in by the Lore Master’s story.
“Nevertheless, my dear,” Dallegheri raised a bony finger in the air, “Amorosi lore tells that it eventually came to pass that one day while a small company of brave stone men were exploring the hills outside their caves, Azazel was able to capture a few of them and return with them to his lair. There did the evil genomist experiment with the warped secrets of creation that Zebub had instructed him in. And from those few unfortunate Pietromi, the diabolical one created yet another evil race: the Boogiti, loathsome goblin-like creatures.” (8)
The elfess couldn’t hide the shudder that ran up her spine. To try to combat the creepy feeling she said, “I read about this story in The History. ‘Although the fifth race brought into existence by the skeleton god, the Boogiti were the first who possessed any sort of semi-intelligence.’ Did I get it right?” (9)
“Good memory, my Amora. Although their mental skills were marginal at best, still Death had finally succeeded in producing a population of creatures whose intelligence was malleable enough to submit to and understand his commands. In addition, the Boogiti proved a surprisingly hearty bunch and since they could reproduce on their own, they soon became one of the most populous race the west.“
“What did that mean to the drokka’s efforts to kill the evil creatures?” queried Nathily, finally getting the ‘drokka’ word correct.
Dallegheri smiled with pride at Nathily’s successful effort. “As you might imagine, the Drokka abhored even the thought of the Boogiti. They initiated a new series of wars called The Drokka Purification Wars – in truth it was genocide. They fought no less than sixty such wars – yet the Boogiti reproduced so quickly they foiled the Pietromi’s every effort. Despite the stone men’s great fighting abilities, the Boogiti were simply able to spew forth more of themselves than the dwarves could kill off!”
“What happened next?”
“Hrrumph. time passed, as it always does. If you recall your history, you should remember that the Third and Fourth Ages bore witness to the creation of new races and powerful new deities. Of the various intelligent creatures who came into being, all would play an important role in the history of the world. Cavalli horsemen and especially the mighty Myz – each would have their moments in time. Too, the evil gods Sindra and Mezentius were unleashed into our world, as was wise Mindos; they too, each had an impact.” (10)
“Well, that’s something, right?”
“Yes, Nathily, ‘that was something’ as you say. Yet realize, because of all that occurred in these new Ages, can you see that things would never be as simple as they once had been in the past, back when it was once only just the Mylars and the Amorosi, millennia ago?”
“I guess you’re right, Nonni. But, did anything else important happen?”
After a long pause, during which her elder stared hard at his granddaughter with his watery grey eyes almost hidden by his bushy eyebrows, finally did Dallegheri speak. “My child, just this: always and everywhere did the world continue to know the face of war. Eventually, the Pietromi initiated a series of bloody conflicts that they named The War of the Ghast (in deference to a magical battle axe that one of their chieftains carried into battle). These battles would last just twenty years, yet the devastation they brought out world will be felt for ages to come. The stone men even sucked our people into the fighting. And when all was said and done, not only did the Pietromi lose the great Ghast to Mezentius, the God of War, but worse yet, the populations of all the races on TerrVerde did go down! It was all for naught – as I believe all wars are – and I say that for this reason – by the end of this ghastly war, the only result was that that evil and death, the plagues of all people, were the only winners.”
With that Dallegheri had to take a rest – for the recollection of these events, even though he was not present at the time, were too much for his mind to handle at this late age of his life.
Still believing she was destined to become an Azora, but frustrated that her father Rian and the Arbola Council were still delaying the process, Nathily yearned to learn more about the perils that would face her as a warrior – if that day ever arrived. Thus it was that she continued to seek the guidance of her grandfather. “Nonni, please tell me about the advent of the Myz.”
Dallegheri winced at the word, for he knew that Nathily knew NOT was she was asking. “My dearest, the wisest say ‘wish not without knowing much.’ for you may get more than you desire.”
“That sounds most true, Nonni, but what has that to do with the Myz?”
“Nathily, it has everything to do with it. The Myz were the nightmare we did not want. These were bloodthirsty warriors who turned the tide against the allies during The War of the Ghast.” With a tired brush of his furrowed brow, Dallegheri spoke a truth he would have preferred to keep hidden. “It was because of the Myz that the Amorosi begat…the Azora.”
Nathily was amazed to hear such news. “Speak on, Nonni, for I must needs hear more!”
Dallegheri sat back in his chair, placed his hands in his sleeves, and then closed his eyes. He desperately wanted to avoid the discussion, yet he reminded himself that he had accepted the duty to instruct Nathily on The History – for better or for worse. “Amora mine, we Amorosi are not inclined to hurt others and I hope that my words will not end up causing you…harm. Did you know that long before the Azoras, before the myz, and even before the Protectorates, when evil first came into our world, our people did not know how to deal with the menace. We were at a loss as to how to defend ourselves. Our scrolls say that, in the beginning we fought with our bare hands, sticks and rocks.”
“I thought you said the Drokka helped us?”
“They were not with us in the beginning. Thankfully neither were the Boogiti, or the Derkka, or Myz. When we had but to face the Pyralli and Morati, we knew little about warfare – many of our people died, but our numbers were the greater than our foe and we retreated, hid, and survived. But with the coming of mankind – with the Derkka and Drokka – and later with the Boogiti and Myz – we would have been wiped out if not for the Pietromi. Unlike us, the Pietromi had an inherent understanding of combat and arms making. And recall that the stone men believed they’d been placed on this planet by Promesius with but one purpose: to cleanse the world of evil creatures!”
“But that’s so sad. To have their main focus be always on fighting? I just can’t imagine that.”
Dallegheri was both pleased and horrified to hear Nathily say such. on the one hand, he wanted his beloved granddaughter to live her life in carefree harmony with Nature; on the other, he knew that (despite the board’s delays in deciding her fate), eventually Nathily would receive the right to pursue The Way of the Azora. She was thus destined to live a life of war – that meant that she must of a necessity remain ever focused on fighting, else she herself perish at the hands of her enemies, who were as countless as the stars themselves.
Trying to give her a little hope, Dallegheri advised, “My child, it was indeed the Pietromi who taught us our basic fighting skills – although, ahem, I doubt that much remains from those original lessons.”
“Why is that? Didn’t we have fathers like you to record their teachings back then?”
Nathily’s grandsire smiled at that, “No, my love, we had more than a few Chroniclers like me, and probably much better ones too! What I mean is: the fiercesome dwarves were too often fond of axes, cudgels and the like, while we Amorosi were not meant for arms of such clumsy brutality. Our athletic warriors were best suited for more graceful weapons, such as the bow and rapier. Yet, perhaps most importantly, our Pietromi friends showed our forefathers the science of the forge, and this allowed us to make the weapons that were best suited for us.”
“How did it come to pass that we organized into armies?”
“In time, the Amorosi clans refined our first warrior groups into more structured Protectorates. In fact, all Amorosi who so desire may take part in our community defense forces. Why even I was once of member of the Arbola Oak Brigade. Let me see now, how did our motto go…Ah yes, ‘Sturdy and strong, we Oaks can right any wrong!’”
Both laughed at the vision of Dallegheri in such a role.
“Hey, you never told me that?” Nathily laughed, still unable to picture her old grandfather as a warrior.
“My dear, there is much that you don’t know about me.” Winked the elder, smiling with at the comical memory. “I have lived a very long time, neh? But, wonder not about my time in the Protectorate, for, other than assisting with community projects, thankfully nought else of significance occurred during my century’s term. I never used a weapon of war and to this day I have never taken the life of any living creature – that’s something I consider my greatest legacy.”
Before Nathily had time to be awed by the revelation, the Lore Master continued his tale. “Recall that, because the Pietromi began many a war during the Second and Third Ages of our world, our ancestors were sometimes sucked into those battles. It was a necessity for us to fight for the evil hordes occasionally reached such vast numbers that they threatened to overwhelm the borders of our lands and needed to be pushed back towards their own territories in the west.”
“Why can’t people just be happy with what they have, nonni? Why do men always seem to want more? And when do the Myz and the Azora’s come into play?”
Realizing that this was not just a history lesson, but instead a soon-to-be all-too-real reality for his beloved Nathily, Dallegheri lost his tongue.
“Nonni?” pursued the elfess. “Are you OK?”
“Ahem, yes dear,” Dallegheri adjusted his reading lenses his glasses. “Well, before I speak more on the Myz, amuse me a little with your patience. Sit down, dear.” Then arranging his robes around the cushions of his chair, Dallegheri smiled. “Thankfully, there was some good that came from the bloodshed of the many wars of the middle ages – for half a milennia after The War of the Ghast did TerrVerde witness a time of peace.”
“The History doesn’t talk about a Second Epoch of Peace, did I miss something?”
“No, my child, for you see, although I spoke the truth that there was little bloodshed to start The Fifth Age, during this time there occurred another important event.”
“What, Nonni?”
“Like the Mylars before us, the Amorosi people began to withdraw from the world.”
“You mean this is when we chose to move to the three forests? But why is that so sad? I for one am happy that we did!”
“Tsk. Be not quick to judge. For realize that with all choices, there are consequences. Yes, we did recede to the Great Woods at this time – seeking their comfort and peace. It was only natural that we would choose the forests of TerrVerde, for those were the places where our people most often encountered our goddess too – and we needed her then more than ever.”
Nathily smiled at the mention of the goddess, as the lore master spoke further, “Alyssa, our mother, aged beyond our fathoming yet forever young. Long ago she chose the forests for her home, and in time she would seek to live almost exclusively in the woods – particularly in Meridia, her birthplace.”
“Oh, I know, ‘babbling brooks and hidden nooks, mysterious glades and crystal mazes’, those are the only spots that one can hope to catch a glimpse of the Alyssa and her maidens now, right, Nonni?” Nathily repeated a child’s rhyme.
Dallegheri laughed at that, for he remembered well Nathily’s precocious childhood – she was after all his favorite pupil. “My dear, you are right again. And so it came to pass that our people eventually settled in three main woodland locales: Arbola in the east, Regalis in the heartland, and Meridia in the deep south. And while we didn’t remove ourselves completely from the rest of creation, still you must see by now, that we could never be as carefree as we once had been long ago.”
“You mean back when it was just the Mylars and the Amorosi.” Nathily’s words were more of a statement than a question, for she knew well the answer.
“Indeed – for that time of sweet peace was lost forever.”
Then it was that Nathily began to finally understand that even without bloodshed, it was possible to lose one’s life, for the elfess began to see what it was that made Dallegheri and some of the other elders so sad when they spoke of what was lost to the Past. She realized that, like the Mylars, the Amorosi too were robbed of their innocence – a part of themselves that could never be regained. (11)
This time Nathily was the one who wanted to end the discussion, yet when Dallegheri saw the tears well up in his granddaughter’s eyes, he quickly plucked out a large, leather-bound volume from a bookshelf to this left, dusted off the cover, opened it up to the appropriate page, and then put on his best speaking voice, “An interesting sidebar in Amorosi lore notes the curious chain of events that led to the eventual ‘creation’ of mankind. Listen, my raggamina, for I have a story to tell you. You’ve always liked my raccontos, right?”
“Yes, Nonni,” Nathily sighed.
After leaning over and wiping the tears away from Nathily cheek, the lore master sat back in his chair and read, “Ahem, The History tells us that this chain of events began at the request of Madra, El-Aba’s partner in Illyria. The legend says that, in the days before Time, El-Aba gave his divine touch to an ape-like animal. It was a blessing so subtle, yet so masterful, that the rest of the world knew not that it had ever occurred! Eventually, after 3,000,000 years of evolution, that ancestral ape finally became Man!” (12)
“Pshaw!” scoffed the elfess, laughing through her tears. “You are just make me laugh. How could the Pecora be bred from apes?”
“My child—“ attempted Dallegheri.
But Nathily spoke over his words, “Ha, now I’ve got you, Nonni!” The elfess jumped up and pointed at Dallegheri in jest, thinking she was about to win a big coup over her much learned grandsire. “Yes, I know I’ve caught you in a fib, for does not the very word ‘Pecora’ means ‘sheep,’ and not ‘ape’ as you are attesting? You see, by your own teaching, I’ve ensnared you!”
Dallegheri smiled coyly while Nathily relished in her apparent victory. When she was done, only then did he speak. “Sit down, Amora mine. Perhaps you are right; but perhaps not. Truth be told, even I cannot tell you for sure. Of that, only El-Aba knows. But bear witness to this, you are wise to know that the Amorosi term for mankind, ‘Pecora,’ does indeed mean ‘sheep.’ However, lore masters like myself would advise you that we gave them that term not because of any literal attempt to remember their ancestry. No, indeed. You see, we call men the ‘Pecora’ because, like sheep, they are too easily led astray. Man, the Pecora, will follow any master. It is one of the tragic follies of their race.”
Seeing that Nathily saw the right in this, and that she was then disappointed that her logic was incorrect, her elder quickly turned back to his tome and re-took his tale, “Tsk, worry not over that, my child, consider this instead.” And finding his spot on the page, “Ahem. The evolution of this new race took place against the backdrop of a world upon which both times of peace and chaos alternately ruled – for the other races and gods all sought dominion upon Terra. Yet, in spite of this, nought could stop the divine intervention that caused the continued advance of this new population. As I said before, so subtle was the touch of El-Aba that the other intelligent beings of the world hardly ever noticed that this evolution occurring! So it was that mankind was born right before our blind eyes!”
“Why does Man follow any master? How can they not show respect for The Father of Creation?”
“A wise question, Nathily. Perhaps knowing this might help. While generally a good race, these new ‘human’ beings were the first species truly capable of being tempted to the dark side. For it was said that El-Aba had bestowed upon mankind the unique Giftcurse of Free Will.”
“What is Free Will? What is a Giftcurse?”
“Alas, I can only tell you what I believe it to be. For, like you, Nathily, I am bound by the wishes of my Goddess. Yet, I take it that ‘Free Will’ means that humans were the first race given The Choice of which Supreme Being they wanted to worship. Actually for that matter, it is probably more correct to say that the Pecora are free to pay homage to whatever ‘seemingly all-powerful force’ they deem to be worthy of honor; for, we know that in his quest for answers, Man often worships the inanimate, the intangible, and more than a host of false idols. As a result, while it is thankfully true that the vast majority of men appear to be worshippers of El-Aba and the Light, there are indeed many who have fallen into the alluring, yet unfortunate, trap of paying homage to Zebub and many of his dark servants, not to mention a host of other various contrived deities. Mankind, it seems, has concocted so many religions, that it is likely most of their race are truly more confused than the sheep-like animals they were named for! Yet, it is because of this ability to choose their own gods, that mankind is thus the ONLY race that, upon death, find that their souls do NOT remain upon Terra, but instead are sent to either Illyria or Illusia – depending on the deeds of their lives. It is that unknown, that consequence for their decisions, if you will, that causes ‘Free Will’ to be such a Giftcurse.”
“Oh.” Nathily raised a hand to cover her mouth in surprise. Then, going over to give her grandfather a hug. “Nonni, I’m so glad I’m an Amorosi and that we have Alyssa to watch over us. And I’m glad to know the Mylars are still out there too. I like to think they are still watching over us too. ”
“Yes, dear,” smiled Dallegheri with a twinkle in his eye. “One should not forget the Mylars.” Then quietly, “wherever our Little Fathers might be.”
Nektar’s Notes
- Ooh, I just love stories about ME – don’t you?
- Dallegheri was the first to discover the helpful effects of wearing magnifying lenses to combat the negative effects of age upon eyesight.
- I was always curious how the Amorosi historians acquired their knowledge about my exploits – after all many cultures had legends about me, but few were so accurate.
- This was actually not true – for the correct story, read here.
- What took her so long?
- This is so short-sighted as to be laughable. As if my creations were really intended to serve Lucifer? In reality, I had my own goals and they served MY purposes.
- Promesius did not ‘create’ the dwarves. They are simply a line of men, from the lineage of Drok via Kane via Adam and Eve. They became squat and dwarf-like after centuries of living underground – see Note 8 on this chapter of Book 2.
- Score another win for the Amorosi historians – they got this story right too!
- I’m insulted that the Amorosi don’t think my other creations were intelligent!
- While the centuars and Myz did emerge during the time period Dallegheri spoke of, Sindra (Inanna) and Myzentius (Gwar) were here long before. As was Mindos (Mannah).
- Oh, it’s so sad. Do you need a tissue. Boo Hoo.
- This is such nonsense that I don’t even know where to begin. Mankind evolved from an ape? For the real story, read this.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 