My brain pooped, and this came out. Kinda has a World of Darkness Feel to it, don't it?

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He remembers heat first. Then great pressure. Dust blowing and the sun disappearing at noon. He remembers his mate screaming as the great wind pulled her from her nest and stole her from his sight. He remembers the days afterward. The sun was hidden. Night was forever. He remembers his children dying slowly when the prey laid down and died.

But most of all. He remembers rage.

Rage at his lost family.

Rage at the cataclysm that wiped out his once great race.

Rage that he didn’t die.

No, he was forever cursed to continue living. The last of his kind. The Earth barren save for sparse weeds and vermin. No more did the great titans roam the Earth. And they never again would. He wandered for years, seeking new and ever more inventive ways to end his miserable existence. Years became decades. Decades became the long road of forever. Unable to die. Unable to live. He eventually went mad. But when the sun again speared the clouds he was freed from the maze of his own insanity.

The years of madness had opened his mind to worlds and things beyond the ability of mere mortals to comprehend. The wind whispered to him, giving him gifts of the mind so that he might control lesser beasts. The rocks told him tales of times even before his own great race shook the earth with their steps, so that in understanding the past, he might see the future.

The fires that had burned since the cataclysm taught him the ways of destruction for it’s own sake. They taught him of greed and the need to consume all things. The oceans, still full of life even after the cataclysm saw how fire had corrupted him, and so taught him how to adapt, how to flow around problems instead of devouring them like fire did. The oceans taught him of life and its value. About joy and love and sadness. The mountains taught him how to be strong. Unyielding and ever-present.

But the shadows that seemed to grow ever deeper taught him to use fear. How to disappear or change shape. They taught him the ways of darkness, so that he may use it for good or ill. For such things a trivial in the eyes of the shadows. They acknowledge neither good nor evil. And so when man first crawled from their caves, he hid among their numbers, using the gifts the barren Earth had provided for him, he spread his seed among the furless apes. And so, from generation to generation humans that had one or two of the gifts he had learned appeared of mere human women.





He also sired children with other creatures. Wolves and birds and the crocodiles that so reminded him of his lost family. From the wombs of elephants and other great animals came massive creatures. Some took to the wing and breathed fire, others became twisted parodies of humans, all were ferocious and hated their human kin. For while his man-children were fair of form his beast-children were twisted monsters.

He pitted his children against each other in great battles. And for a time he was amused with humanity and it’s capacity for destruction. But he eventually grew bored. Then tired. And so he left his children unattended, to sleep deep in the earth. They faded into myth. Then from memory. Less and less of his children were born each day, until finally, the only thing that marked his passing were the bones of his family.

He slept on for many, many eons, until fateful day on a small island known as Japan. His own DNA had remained dormant inside human descendents until one man was born. The eclipse, always a potent simple for the ancient entity (for it reminded him of the time with no sun) awakened long dormant powers within his body. So the old one sent his son a gift. A sword that focused the power of his children and increased it ten fold.

The blade was made from his scales. The hilt from his bones, and the sheath from his own eye, so that the sword could allow him to see his children. More and more of his children were born with his gifts, and so he began to stir, curious about the world and its state. Eventually he invaded the minds of a few, and decided it was time to put into motion a great game. Into one of his own unborn, he would poor the madness that had consumed him the dark years. Into the other, he would poor his love of his long dead saurian family.

Into one he would poor water’s adaptability, into the other, fire’s need to consume and grow stronger. When the time was right, he would unleash them upon each others. Two brothers, warring. Each with equal, but different, power. He wished to see which was stronger, good.

Or evil.

The winner would be given all of his powers and abilities. The loser would burn in hellfire for all time. Their lesser brethren would be pawns and foot soldiers in the battle. And when the game was done, and he relinquished all his powers and gifts, he would finally be allowed to die. But something unexpected happened. One of his daughters who had been given the gift of sight peered into his mind by mere a accident. She could not comprehend his machination, but she saw him. She knew of his presence. And while she might not understand his vast and great mind, others may.

That would not do.

So he created a third child. This one unborn, but already gathering strength. He would hasten the child’s growth and give him the strength of mountains, the power of fire, the speed of wind and the ferocity of the old one’s brothers. This third child would be born of one of his daughters, and destroy his nosy child.




And so it began. This war of two brothers. The birth of a monster unseen since the age of the terrible lizards. The game of an entity older and more brutal than mankind.

This is his tale of past deeds and future victories.

This is the beginning of the end, as humanity is swept up in his greed.

This is how Heroes meet their maker in a desperate bid to protect the ones they love from his selfish plots.

This is Uluru’s Final Game.

God help us all.