I am the last of my kind. My people and way of life are gone. I carry the burden of a hundred generations on my shoulders. We have seen empires come and crumble away. Many powers have forced us into slavery and driven us to extinction. We would survive one master only to be abused by another.

All forms of deities have been introduced to us. Even after slavery, my people suffered as no other, swallowed and assimilated. I remain the sole survivor of a great and mighty race.

I have been a teacher and priest, a battle-chief and king. I was a bard and hero of great renown. But soon I will be forgotten by this world that is itself a graveyard of memories. History has no place for me now. No Heaven awaits me.

All is silent as I begin to play.

The instrument that is a symbol of my past resounds through the air. Each note is played with perfect precision as I begin to walk. There are no drums playing, but I can remember the noble day we marched off to war to fight for our freedom.

For hundreds of years we lived in peace. We gave up our violent ways as our tribes united into a nation. In the third century of peace our green world readied to welcome visitors. It was after our leaders had sent a welcoming message to them that war was declared.

At first we put up a noble defense. But our weapons were few and inadequate to repel the invaders. They came with their guns and ships to enslave us, calling themselves human, the people of earth, and Christian, followers of a peaceful god. To them we were animals, unable to think, unable to believe.

But we remained strong even in slavery, knowing that one day we would once again be a free and peaceful people. Someday we would overthrow these barbarians and send them back to their world of darkness and ignorance.

I stand here in memory of what has been. I am a relic of an age that fell long ago, the last breath of a civilization that still yearns for freedom.