For many a millennia he has slumbered beneath the earth, his strength recovering from a conflict as old as the sands it was fought upon. For many a millennia he and his people withered away into legends, spoken of by the elderly to their young as nothing more than stories before bed. For many a millennia the world itself forgot about this being, hidden away within a cage of dirt and rock and time.
But now he has awoken to find himself lost in a world nearly unrecognisable, dominated by a species he'd not laid eyes upon for many, many years indeed.
Yet there still lived a select few who knew him personally. To them, he was an old yet dear friend, long believed to have been lost to the cataclysm that cost him his people and his kingdom. Despite all the time that had elapsed and despite all that had happened throughout the years, they still knew his name.
Cyrus Perennem, 'The King Without a Crown'.
