Long ago, when the lands were new and bountiful, Burning Spice was the Herald of Change. Once did he bring about the growth of kingdoms and nations, shaping the course of their antiquity. Once he was a founder and ruler of kingdoms long forgotten yore. Once was he was the defender of civilization, created to protect the world that had begun to grow with his guidance. For his achievements and accomplishments, he was hailed as a hero, and cultures had sprung up around his identity. He was praised, cherished, celebrated, and beloved; he was elated that he was recognized for doing his duty. Alas, such creations were not meant to last, and so they've become history. Those who had idolized him and those who he had loved had long since departed. But not for the Herald, for he was eternal and would see this cycle for many eons. The cycle continued on while he became stagnant, his work now repetitive. Thus, he grew tired and soon had enough of the cycle's everlasting repetition. With age and de
Talks in quick, sing-song pitches; uses food metaphors and little stage-smiles.
