In one motion, the cartographers's work would be rendered obsolete. In that same move, two vile creatures would have their lives taken away. Far above and deep beneath the earth's surface, echoes would reverberate of the landscape's shifting. At the epicenter stood a priest of the ancient primal world, Daos, with his fist stabbed deep in to the earth before him. His act may have been a bit too much, however if it saved his life, he would not regret any destruction he may have caused. The remains of the strange monsters that attacked him were displayed amongst a forest of stalagmites, several of which were painted red, and sharp as a spear's point. The creatures were mangled to such a degree, their original shape was left a mystery. Miles below, the earth's crust would continue to shake and chasm, for that one strike caused an earthquake of such a magnitude, secrets hidden deep underground would be buried and kept a mystery forevermore. All it took was one punch, and what was once a hill, was now a field of scattered stone and rock.

None could hear the sigh that escaped Daos's mouth, for the gale winds that encircled him deafened the low tones. A stern but calm gaze shifted across the landscape, and a final unheard prayer would be uttered on behalf of the monsters. Perhaps they were once men, deranged by foul magics. The priest sympathized for the crazed, for often enough it was not their fault, and death was a necessary outcome. To finalize the practiced chant, Daos pointed skyward, and hummed a final plea to his idolized god. With his ritual complete, the high priest could continue on route without any delays. Although he was enlightened, he was not all-seeing, and knowledge of the great laboratories destroyed by his actions passed his conscience by, as if they were merely a set of caves, which he had destroyed many of in the past. The great whirlwind pressed on through unfamiliar lands.

In the distance, Daos could see an interesting landscape, where strange and enigmatic monoliths pierced the sky, like obelisks dedicated to an old and forgotten deity. The high priest could only stall his imagination, as it concluded with truth what this place could be. He happened upon a graveyard, he knew it to be this because it resembled nothing else; the way the columns aligned so symmetrically, and the hum of lost souls, yearning and reaching out to the living. A moment would pass, and Daos would find himself in deep meditation on the outskirts of the monolith graveyard. He wanted to feel the area for himself, but it sent shivers down his spine. A strange vibration fused itself with the very air around this place, and the humming was eerie in its own right. Whatever the case, Daos continued to feel out his surroundings, for he was not yet at one with the air of this graveyard. The undying souls sought to tamper with his own aura, however they would not be given such a privilege, for the high priest's spiritual control was at an enlightened state, he would not bend to the fallen.

Moments passed, and bravery pushed Daos to travel onwards through the graveyard. He walked at a steady pace, with the staff of Ngma resting at his right shoulder, aligned with the hand that held it. It took a moment for the priest to attune himself to this new atmosphere, however the hostility of spirits demanded his attention, and he appealed to them for safe passage. Alongside the hymn of countless fallen warriors, Daos, alive and displaced from the chorus, began to chime in with his own voice; yet, the powerful gust that was his dominating aura prevailed above all other sounds heard by the common set of ears, only the enlightened soul could hear such music. Daos was at peace in the harshest of a storm, ironically so, and calmly traveled the badlands by foot and determination. If any more monsters dared attack him in such a holy place, the priest worried he might upset the sanctity of these strange sepulchral monuments.