A Gift From The Sload

For the dry races, the small ones that scurry around on land, I send greetings, I offer gifts, I offer the only gift of that can ever be of lasting utility: understanding!

To truly understand the world, you must see it as the Sload do. This is of course impossible for such as yourselves but perhaps we can give you the merest glimmering of the glory of Sloadhood. Let us make the attempt and see if your minds are capable of this feat.

You are aware, perhaps, of the wonders of the Sload form. Of the way that as we gain in age and wisdom, we expand to better contain this knowledge. Not for us the shriveling away of lesser forms, nor are we forced to forget our own names in order to make room for new information. On the contrary! We expand! We evolve! We encompass! Truly there is no limit to what we may learn. To what we may become!

Unworthy as you are, you are not fit to imagine the Elders of the Sload. Nevertheless, I invite you to do so on this one occasion. See them in your mind's eye, bloated with insight, towering with wisdom. Imagine how such exalted beings must loom over tiny creatures such as yourself. If you can do that, you may be ready to learn a Great Secret. Prepare yourselves.

The Great Secret is this: the wisest of us all was alive before time began.

Can you imagine the splendour of such a being? The Sload of Sloads sits on the root of the world. What you call "Tamriel" is just an encrustation upon his head. Yokuda and Akavir, mere stains up his pauldrons. The Sload of Sloads knows things that would burst your tiny heads had you the merest inkling of them.

You are a foolish people. Even now, when any sensible being would prostrate themselves with awe and wonder, some of you will be thinking "We must fight this thing! We must destroy it! We must save the world!" How shallow your understanding!

Wiser ones among you may wonder how this can be so. "But the Sload are gifted only in the vile art of Necromancy", you may be thinking. "How could this possibly have been concealed?" And here you approach the truth of the matter.

The truth is this: you already tried to "save the world". You failed. All who are not Sload died.

"But that cannot be", I hear you call out in those irritating, piping voices of yours. "We move! We breathe! How can this be?" But the answer should already be apparent to you.

The Sload are indeed gifted in Necromancy, and none more so than the Sload of All Sloads. He has animated all the dead of the world and granted them a semblance of life that they may entertain us. We watch through your eyes as you rush and scurry around your world, and we gurgle with mighty amusement at your great hubris, that you dare to imagine anything you might do could make a difference.

Further, a day will come soon when you cease to entertain. When that happens, certain negotiations with the Ideal Masters will be concluded, certain transactions will be finalised, and the Sload will move on to more important matters.

But all is not lost. Repulsive as you are, it is still possible that we may grow fond of certain of your number. So strive to entertain us and avoid doing anything that might offend. It is possible that when the great day comes, you may find yourself among the few that are spared from the Ideal ones.

This understanding the is Great Gift I promised. Try not to let it explode your heads.

Lord Sload.