The Stonemoors

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The dark clouds swirled over the Valley of Eindor, being sucked upwards by the portal. They all knew what was coming; even the golden wheat fields began to grey and wilt at the arrival of Jarkoraef. The stones of Einden stood tall, facing the bright hole in the sky he emerged from. 

“Stonemoors of the Planet Einden,” his voice boomed, “welcome to the beginning of a new universe, one ruled by strength and vigilance. Sometimes, in order to achieve safety, we must sacrifice a few freedoms and that is all I had asked of you. But I am told by my counselors that you have not yet given the Crown Tax I had asked for. Normally, I would wipe out the planet and leave you to be smug in the coals of your families, but I am an understanding master. I respect your history, your legacy. Yours is one of the oldest planets in existence. Some have even said consciousness itself was born from you. So, please,” sneered Jarkoraef, “tell me what the issue is here.”

The Stonemoors remained stoic, saying nothing until the oldest among them broke off his legs from where they were rooted in the stone of their land to tower over where Jarkoraef sat upon his Skoli, an ancient beast, ancestor to snakes and dragons.

He spoke in his ancient tongue, translating to, “I am Korlo Nokto, elder of the Stonemoors. We have been here since before your ancestors washed up onto the shores of Jordoo, the size of atoms, puny and insignificant. And we will be here after your destruction. The Stonemoors are peaceful, son, and we do not wish to be a part of any violence, but be careful to never come into our home again and threaten us, that too, by yourself.”

Jarkoraef sneered and let out a half laugh. “Oh, my poor dears. I’m hardly alone.” And above him rained down an army of the Jordoon, accompanied by the only thing that could defeat the Stonemoors - traitors of their own kind.