It seemed as though the best of times rested within the past. Those wondrous days of youth, trapped within memory and imagining. Brilliant minds eventually turn old and wise, and yet those ageless would always continue to define the trend of eternity. Voices so powerful speak their blooming ideals to the masses, living only when heard; breathing upon acceptance. Such political minds they were. So scientific their sentiments, so beautiful their conviction as their fists rose high to shun the damnation, the torturous hatred of mankind and of the races. So long ago, in ages since past... lost now in mind, body and spirit, once existed a realm of diversity, of calm. Yet from the shadows of all things holy and beautiful would come a monster, a selfish entity of hatred and despicable rationality. This place was once the gate to heaven. This place was Siamstrich.
Stories are often stagnated somewhere between happenings and paper, often glorified in the name of victory and triumph, but never without trials and tribulation. It is impossible to tell the tale of Siamstrich without first recognizing Diak Onstero as its savior... its broker of peace. Billions of years passed since his birth, and billions more would follow, but the true age of harmony existed only when he was alive. Often thought of as a God, rather than a man, he was only fully realized after he was gone, like most brilliant men. His legacy would always be a part of the lives of mankind and eventually, his selflessness would be glorified, name bellowed from the maws of those thankful, and ultimately forgotten.
He was born in a troubled time. One of war, of divided unity and makeshift chaos that threatened the balance of life. His mother, Jirthia Onstero, was the Druid Lady of the second council of druids and an absurdly evil menace; and single handedly, she led her people to victory over the elves. Such a short temper defaced her, but moments of brilliance inspired the masses. But just as history dictated the past, it influenced the future. It decided her demise. A new order was blooming, one that preached peace. It spoke of using the Druids to restore order, but contradictory to such a passionate belief would be what they did to Jirthia. On a night as dark as her shallow, perverse mind she was raped and her throat slit, leaving the heir to the monarch's throne to his own devices.
Oh, how sickening the song they sang. How beautiful their persistence, the intoxicating drug of success. The new order would never know, nor fully appreciate the depth of their shaping of the future. Perched upon an old, oak throne from that day fourth was the young Diak Onstero, who had watched the old war from the very tower that taught him harmony in magic, an age old lore that was refered to only as Druidism. A golden age followed his rule; such an age inspired by his word and deed. But the ruins of what once was, and what would rise anew... bellowing from the maw of hatred itself boomed the voice of destruction. And in all of its madness and indignity came a future that no soul was ready for.
This is Siamstrich.
