Ayleids All The Way Down

You ever notice when you're stuck at a red light waiting to turn left, your blinker and the one on the car in front of you will be going at different times before gradually syncing up?

There are ideas in the world. Basic ideas. Primal ideas. Love. Time. Light. Madness. Sometimes your average schmo'll tap into that, on accident or on purpose. They'll love. They'll become love. They'll start syncing up with the the idea of love, until that poor bastard can't tell if he's the guy getting head in a beat up station wagon, or if he's the pervert in the white pickup behind them, just content to watch.

Once upon a time there were these monsters in Cyrod, and they needed control. Entire populations lost a thumb war with them and were stuck under their bony digit. They built off the magic of their predecessors, and did unprecedented things with that power. They were the first against the wall when the revolution came. One by one their empire started revolting. A little here, a little there, a little everywhere. And then their empire was gone. They saw it coming. Then knew it was happening. And they couldn't do shit to stop it. White-Gold was under siege, and they were out of the game.

And then there were these monsters in Cyrod, and they needed control.

Love. Madness. Knowledge. Domination. Those are easy. Simple, and pure. They aren't Big Ideas. Big Ideas are what you get when you start trying to use the basics. Hubris. It takes a village to be a Big Idea, not some goblin who thinks 'e knows it all, and not some et'ada echoing off of itself.

There's always a monster in Cyrod.