Long, long ago, when the Goodly Kinds were still new to the world, the Heuma were as one people. They had not yet learned the way of the stone, were as children to the world.
They traveled far and wide together, searching for a place to call their own. Over hill and dell, across oceans and desert, harried at the last by orchs and beasts who rejected the presence of a stranger. They were a miserable group when their leader found a cleft in the side of a mountain. Desperate to escape from the wild bands of orchs that roamed the land and actively sought to destroy them, their leader led them into the enclosure of the mountain and closed it behind them.
They wandered long in darkness, their leader at the fore. Deeper and deeper they delved, the echoes of the stone around them their only sign of their surroundings, for none of them carried with them light. They learned with their hands and feet and ears, to travel in the mother stone's darkness without fe
Add Media
Style