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In ancient times and faraway lands that are now lost to the sons of man, the great prophet Gar Helub lay dying, surrounded by his acolytes, still delerious with the Unseeing Fever that had taken him all those years before. At the height of his powers, he had been consulted by kings and princes, and even as he aged he was still visited daily by the Dynasts of the Age of Ashes, each hoping that he would give word of their eventual empire. But, by then, the fever had him firmly in its grip, and each would be Thearch was turned away by his weeping acolytes, who wore only black and cried for the loss of their master's sight even in their sleep. As he lay there on his deathbed, just as his death hung above him, all gray like mosslight, his eyes cleared and he gave out one final prophecy, his greatest prophecy, even as he breathed in his own death.
But, only days later, his hermitage of Mount Dire was sacked by the Lord of Hands, and all of his acolytes' tongues were cut out, and the prophecy was lost to history. But there are some that say that a single acolyte survived intact, and that he kept the prophecy alive. They say that the Gar Helub spoke of a distant day, a day far in the future and in some other world, after the War of Ashes had ended, after the Age of Silence had laid across the land like a thousand years of loneliness, there would come a time when a stranger would come from a far away land. He, and he alone, would find what he was seeking, pants of such great importance and might that they would change the world forever. Religions were born and died around would-be messiahs who spoke of the pants that they had found, but in the end they were only shadows of the true pants, the great pants, the pants that were yet to come. In time, these religions faded, and the secret of the pants was lost.
But I come before you today to tell you that the time of the prophecy is at hand. Now, in this single moment, the entire weight of history shifts. It has come to pass. We mortals, all of us, must tremble at the immensity of the moment -- the prophecy fulfilled across endless bounds of time and space. The time that Gar Helub spoke of as he died is here. The pants have arrived, ushering with them a new age, and unknown age beyond the reach of even that seer's blind sight, and they are might comfy.
Two pairs.
But, only days later, his hermitage of Mount Dire was sacked by the Lord of Hands, and all of his acolytes' tongues were cut out, and the prophecy was lost to history. But there are some that say that a single acolyte survived intact, and that he kept the prophecy alive. They say that the Gar Helub spoke of a distant day, a day far in the future and in some other world, after the War of Ashes had ended, after the Age of Silence had laid across the land like a thousand years of loneliness, there would come a time when a stranger would come from a far away land. He, and he alone, would find what he was seeking, pants of such great importance and might that they would change the world forever. Religions were born and died around would-be messiahs who spoke of the pants that they had found, but in the end they were only shadows of the true pants, the great pants, the pants that were yet to come. In time, these religions faded, and the secret of the pants was lost.
But I come before you today to tell you that the time of the prophecy is at hand. Now, in this single moment, the entire weight of history shifts. It has come to pass. We mortals, all of us, must tremble at the immensity of the moment -- the prophecy fulfilled across endless bounds of time and space. The time that Gar Helub spoke of as he died is here. The pants have arrived, ushering with them a new age, and unknown age beyond the reach of even that seer's blind sight, and they are might comfy.
Two pairs.
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