In the beginning, there were the Old Ones. With their necks' the color of red. They created fire - with the black water that lived beneath us.

They harnessed the lightning from the sky and used its' power to create great metal beings that soared through the sky. They left behind the great monuments, made from the earth itself.

 So large they were, to climb them, you would reach the heavens themselves, and there you would find them and live forever with them... In paradise.

The Old Ones created many things. From the largest mountain to the smallest kittilan. But their greatest creations of course, are the seven races.

The mighty Starkmann, giants of unparalled strength, clad from head to toe in iron - waging their endless war with the evil draeguns.

The ferocious Shou-Nan, men adorned in the hide of beasts, striking terror to all who should happen upon their territory.

The wise Kindansai. Beings made entirely of metal, They wield weapons that crack lightning - so they may protect themselves as they venture forth on their quest -that only the Gods themselves knows what it be.

The intelligent Syiburgs, said to be the result of a Kindansai and an Oomen mating. Made of both flesh and iron, they dwell underground, only leaving to pursue their desire of becoming nothing but a pure husk of metal.

The powerful Ymdi. With an appearance akin to Oomens. They, however, harbour unfathomable power that can sway the hearts of man, conjure monstrosities and gaze into the great beyond itself!

The vile Muttons, a plague upon the Wild Lands and anything that would set its feet upon it. With their gross strength and even more grotesque appearance. They torment & terrorize the Oomens, and will forever be their greatest enemy.

The mysterious Mag'a, beings, that wield the elements in their fingertips. They are said to reside in the desolate forests of the south. Many believe these entities are of legend, or ascended to the heavens a long time ago.

Finally, the most numerous of the seven - and the weakest... We are the Oomens. Small in stature, we do not possess any abilities, other than our will to survive; and survive we do.

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For I ask you, are we truly the weakest if we are the most of the world of Murikan? We do not have great strength like the Starkmann, the claws, venom and wit of the Shou-Nan, the wisdom of the Kindansai, or the power of Ymdi. But in this simplicity, this supposed helplessness... It is not our crux. Nay! It is our power! Because of our weakness we truly understand what strength is. For this is how the Old Ones intended for their children to be.

For there is no greater test of worthiness than being a child in a world of monsters, and rising above the monsters. and when we do, our father's and mother's will welcome us with open arms and warm smiles as we continue to grow so tall our heads peak through the skies themselves.

So my fellow Oomens, never feel fear when you think about the other creations of the Old Ones, for they may be the strongest on this land, but we reign supreme as the chosen children of the Old Ones. For we are the New Ones!

Cecila closed the small leather bound book with a slight thud.

She has read this particular scripture over a hundred times. It still fills her with that child like wonder and awe that all Oomens experience when they read the gospel of the wandering prophet Nick.

Not much is known about the great prophet Nick. He was born somewhere in the east of Murikan. When he was young he became a Vicky (a holy man who teaches others the love and knowledge of the Old Ones), but quickly decided he couldn't truly be considered a believer of the Old Ones, unless he dedicated his life to uncovering the wonders they left behind.

Many considered him a fool, for he was not a soldier and even no soldier is crazy enough to travel the Wild Lands on their lonesome. But Nick did not heed the others words and ventured forth on his noble pilgrimage.

In his journal he tells us that his early days, he spent his time either running or hiding from the horrors of the Wild Lands.

On his third year of his quest, he admits in his dairy that his faith is wavering and intends to head home, regardless of the shame. But fate had other plans. As a tribe of Muttons caught scent of Nick. They cornered him in a stone monument - left behind by our parents.

As he shuffled through the rubble, his hand found a metal object of strange design. The wise Nick vaguely recognized this object, for the texts he has read described awesome weapons that looked a lot like this.

He aimed the metal relic at his pursuers and prayed. Condensed fire that’s power rivalled the sun, exploded out of the front and turned the Muttons into dust. Nick continued to clasp the relic as it continued to shoot holy light at the Muttons, until none remained.

When it was over, Nick wept and prayed to the Old Ones for three days straight; never moving from the spot he had vanquished evil.

The prophet Nick spent the rest of his life travelling the Wild Lands with the holy weapon.

He discovered many wondrous structures, sacred texts, pictures, weapons, clothing, armour, and more - all created by the Gods. He would visit many Oomen settlements across the world, sharing with them the relics he found, the stories of his travels and the knowledge of the Old Ones.

Little is known about his death. Some say he died in battle, facing off against an army of monstrous Flopper-Bunnies. Others believe he simply died of old age, spending his last days imparting his wisdom to the vile Muttons themselves. Some even believe he did not die but actually ascended to the heavens and now resides with the Old Ones, as their equal.

Cecila wasn't sure what to think, but none the less, Nick the prophet was one of her favourite icons of the ages.

Cecila stood up with a stretch from her wooden chair. She gazes around the room at all of the books and papers that were orderly stacked on the shelves that surrounded her. She was truly blessed to have a father whom was head librarian of the city: Helena.

She began to venture out of the stone tower that hosts her beloved books. Suddenly caught by its wonder she stares at the raising sun.

Cecila smiles as she feels its warmth and basks in its majesty. It looks like today is going to be a particularly beautiful day. Truly the Gods are showing their good fortune for her on this day, the day she will be partaking in the greatest test of her life.

Deciding she had basked long enough in the Gods' loving glow, she slowly jogs towards the building in which she will be begin her rite of passage to become a valiant soldier of the Oomen race.