“I was born out the poet’s greed… the blood and tears shed in the epics flow through my veins. I am the one who immortalized the heroes, I am the one who froze them in their legends.”
In the darkness, Gallusar; the ancient Demon opened his eyes. He writhed at first, thinking he was in nothingness. He was desperately hungry. The threads of his being began to unravel, and his mind began to disintegrate.
Hunger was unbearable, and he spent a long time in the void, wandering aimlessly, unsure of what he needed. His hunger was so intense that he knew there was only one thing he could do: attack the darkness into which he was born. He lay down at the risk of becoming lost in nothingness and discovered something he had not anticipated. In the darkness, there was a mind expanding as he gazed… Gallusar freed himself by discovering an ambition, a hunger that he could follow.
A bard’s hunger for eternal stories….
He clung to a cranky passion that oozed out of letters and sounds. There was a vortex there; a realm where countless legends roamed, mingled and merged, changing shape and playing squirming like eels.
Gallusar had seized a resource that no other ifrit had ever had… it was a way of haunting legends and heroes. It’s a fork in the road, like the dichotomy of day and night, good and evil, black and white.
He stood at the confluence of light and darkness… And he reached into the essence of the mind into which he was born, pulling it away…
He stole a bard’s breath; the first scribe’s… Enheduanna’s… Hundreds of thousands more followed. Gallusar was filling his void with the bards’ ambitions. The hero’s pain and suffering, amplified by victories and defeats.
But Gallusar not yet satisfied… He craved for much more.
He desired to infiltrate the stories of all poets throughout history. He shaped the vortex into which all legends flowed and created a legacy for himself for which the bards would sing their songs.
On top of that legacy, on the Edge of Dawn, he built a battlefield; Free from stasis, doubt and peace, he built a heritage in which heroes, rewarded with honor and will, locked in a constant conflict.
In this heritage there is a pact hidden for bards.
“O Bard, if you sing my epics, I will make your songs eternal. If you reject my heritage, I will mute all your songs and wash away all your heroes from memory.”
