THE AGE OF THE LIZARDS

As Onsîn ruled the domain of Onsîn, the living lizards still lived

above on the earth's surface. The gods of Mount Jóli tolerated them

at first. Some of the stronger creatures used their horns and fangs

to gather metals for lame, rough Forch to forge for his weaponry.

That was one example of their use, but the beloved Tots have not

provided me with other examples, yet I shall never question the logic

of the mighty goddesses of poetry and song.

After millions of years of solely eating one another, feasting on plants,

drinking water, dying and basically acting like mindless beasts, the gods

realized that the mighty lizards were doing nothing to appease them—

no sacrifices to rejuvenate them, no prayers to answer, nothing at all.

Some of the lizards had become loyal servants to the gods. A few of

the first grand lizards that move around through swimming and live under

the sea aid in pulling the chariot of deep-swirling Òchen, daughter of

Uáter, which has seaweed strung about the carriage with spots of barnacles,

and wheels made out of multicolored coral.

The initial lizards that were formed by the gods millions of years ago

retained their loyalty to the deathless ones above, but as the millennia

passed, the newer generations appeared to be indifferent towards the

Jólians, possibly due to claims to allegedly unsavory acts involving

all-seeing Sån, although nothing has been proven.

The original lizards viewed the latest generations with pure contempt,

simply for existing, thinking that they were entitled babies and brats

for being born and living in lesser times than when the original ones

were produced by the gods.

Mother Ürt removed a significant chunk from herself to send up above.

Talented Forch helped make the giant chunk sharper and more dangerous.

The raging Uènds, along with castrated Scaîfadér, moved the giant rock

up into the cosmos. It reached a great altitude some distance away from

the earth. During its descent, scorching Faír and his hot daughter Jît

roasted the rock to a degree untouchable to man.

The flaming rock came crashing down onto earth, creating a wave of

destruction, calefaction, and suffocation. All the newer generations

of lizards on earth, those that weren't up in Mount Jóli with the fantastic,

super-powerful, big ones living the sweet life, were annihilated in the

blast. The massive size, strength, and bestial movements were no match

for the potent force of the collision between earth and stone.

The legs of grand, spiked, plant-eaters collapsed inwards as their rib cages

flew from their scaly bodies many miles away. Slithering serpentine

monsters residing in the sea had their extended spines separated into

tiny pieces as the creatures' weakened remains dehydrated and exsiccated

while swimming in the freshly disturbed ocean, now boiling with the heat

of millions of summer days at exactly noon.

Not even the mighty, fierce predators, who eat the scale and muscle of their

fellow lizards—even their fellow predators—were spared from the mayhem.

Their fearsome, mighty bodies were unable to withstand the heavy force of

the rock's impact. It was impossible for their femurs to resist the deforming

pressure of the crash, tearing through their bodies, spreading gory ribbons.

All the lizards on earth were wiped out, leaving only severe drought,

destruction-induced snowfall, and the lizards' enormous skeletons.

The bones were eventually buried in dirt and stone; some were even

swept under the surface of the earth, like a dust pile under a rug.

The skeletons of the lizards became the skeletons of of man's mountains.