In primordial space, timeless creatures
made waves. These waves created us and the
others. Waves were the battles, and the
battles were waves.
Fleeing all W’rkncacnter, Yrro and Pthia
settled upon Lh’owon. They brought the
S’pht, servants who began to shape the
deserts of Lh’owon into marsh and sea,
rivers and forests. They made sisters for
Lh’owon to protect and maintain the paradise.
When the W’rkncacnter came, Pthia was
killed, and Yrro in anger, flung the
W’rkncacnter into the sun. The sun burned
them, but they swam on its surface.
Yrro became an angry master, bleeding for
his failure, grieving for the loss of
Pthia. He broke the S’pht into eleven
clans, and spread them over Lh’owon.
And he spoke, yet covered in blood from his
“I Yrro, who was your master, have failed
to preserve you. Take your royalty to
guide you, and live upon the paradise that
you built for me.”
–Six Thousand Feet Under, Terminal 2 (Marathon 2: Durandal)