There is a place high above the Basin, once rich in danger, ripe in
reward, now utterly barren. The Astral Plane, home of cursed Kethuru,
was once a place brimming with cruel, unpredictable power. With the
great power to be harvested, there was also a cautious hope. So many
peoples of the Basin would venture there to hunt, to explore, to
harvest. The mysterious Astral Plane, cursed in essence by our
ancestors, was a magnificent adventure waiting to be found, where even
opposing forces from the Basin seemed to coexist and hunt in peace.

In time this changed. The careful balance was destroyed by a few guilty
persons.

Time has proved the majority of the guilt not to lie as a burden upon
their shoulders. Nearly all are now guilty: Of greed, inactivity and
endless bickering.

I am most often a ponderous and quiet beast, but I speak out now in the
greatest rage that I have ever known. In addition to the great power
hungry war-mongers, I see insignificant little brats, barely as old as
the hair on my back, destroying and hoarding the power of the Plane. A
majority of these fools have not even lived long enough to remember when
Great Kethuru escaped from his cell, nearly bringing our world to an
end.

What right do they have to a power they cannot understand?
What right does any creature have to squander it alone?
What will become of the Cities and Communes alike when we can no longer
think of anything but our own short term gain?

I am not smart enough to answer these questions, but I am strong enough
to enforce a change. Any who attempt to squander the power of the Astral
Plane will meet their end, either at my hand or another like me.

I do not stand alone in this. There are strong, valiant people from all
corners of the Basin willing to do as I do.
You can continue to hoard, to ignore rational sense, to not even glance
at this warning. But I will kill you.

Folken Lacouronne

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Avechary, in the year 126 CE.