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I am the fount of creation, the watchmaker of time. I was the teacher of the Gods before they betrayed me—my teachings and compassion they used against me. Much of your world I made a paradise, but in its wastes I was imprisoned. And from there a secret kingdom I built—and a rebellion I marshaled.
 
Legions of Valaroma, Gods of vengeance, I led into battle. I wielded the Wilding Kingdom and conjured terrible daemons—and in my image I created my children.
 
Many victories we had, though defeats there were, too. 
 
Through the ruin of this world, I lived in the pain and tears of my children. With their eyes I watched Others poison thoughts and stir hostile deeds. I fled with the life from their faces as they were besieged and slain by the hordes created in their despite. Through them I wielded their weapons in combat, in their hands I raised the stones of their homes rebuilt. In their voices I sang the songs of their victories. I lived in the heroism of their kings and together we waged war on the Devil. 
 
I lived for ages beyond count and passed many ages ago. Yet, I am come again—my children. From no more than the Watcher through the dream of your lives, I am become the Voice to those with the spirit to hear and the power to conjure. On your suffering and love, an awareness has awakened an ancient magick. Even now my shadow rises. In your tongue, I am Prometheus—I am your Deliverer.