Cencaria: Tales of the First Age (Part 1)

So this is Cencaria?, I thought in incredulity. Looking upon the barren landscape that extended as far as the eye could see, I saw nothing. Just fine, rusty gravel that reminded me of Martian soil. A few boulders dotting the land. Disappointment sprang to the surface before I could clamp a hand on it. Indeed, I had spent years looking for one, just one spectacular planet. My attempts had always proved futile. Now, I almost lacked the will to go on anymore. Traveling from planet to mediocre planet with no fruition had exhausted me. I had long since given up the notion of holding on actual job (I detested the entire Terran empire-too many bureaucrats). My only real hope lay in extraterrestrial photography. In this respect, the likelihood of this dead planet being home to anything picturesque seemed absurd.

Making a great sigh, I turned to go to my pod. But wait! Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of gold. I halted my step and turned my head to the shining object. It was a rectangular item, slightly impressed into the soil not ten feet away. I walked over to the object, the soft crunch of my footsteps breaking the silence. As I neared the thing, its features cleared. It was a large book, about the size of my head. Lines of gold ran across its cover, forming characters. At first I did not recognize the symbols, but then I realized that they were an archaic form of English known as cursive. The title read:

"The History of Cencaria" as Told by Gol, the Farseer

Translated by Robert Hickman

What on Earth is an English book doing on this planet? I wondered. I knew not of any Terrans who had set foot on this planet before me. With curiosity taking hold of my fingers, I gingerly flipped open the thick leather cover. The first page was a table of contents, and I ignored it. Opening to the next page of the book, I was met with:

Age 1

I flipped to the next page. Now reader, I shall recall to you the book I read. As you read, do not wonder about me or what I was doing. I am not important in this tale. I am a simple itinerant photographer who happened to fall upon one of the most amazing discoveries in the history of my race.

Turning my eyes to the book's faded text, this is what I read?

Part 1: The Accounts of Brodeus and Preleon

Brodeus yawned, holding his hand over his mouth so that the other gods would not know he was bored. Honestly, though, he suspected that the other members of Sejal, the Senate of the Gods, were as tired of this inaction as he. Looking around, the young god could see quite a few heads drooping. Standing erect behind the Great Podium, some god who Brodeus did not know was droning on monotonously about the supposed inadequacy of Olympia's ambrosia. This is ridiculous, Brodeus thought to himself. We are so unaffected by anything that we are making up problems. The god glanced over at his twin, who was sitting, or rather, slouching, a few thrones down. Preleon's eyes were fast shut, and from the few feet's distance Brodeus could make out the god's soft snoring.

The monotony was suddenly shattered as a god stood out of his throne and shouted, "Wake up, wake up everyone! I have an idea!" Brodeus' eyes swiveled toward the effusive figure. It was one of the older gods, Bylarin. The god's face was flushed red with joy. Brodeus watched in amazement as Bylarin ran from his throne to the Great Podium, pushing the disinterested speaker aside. All of the senators had become wide awake and were now sitting up in their seats.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Brodeus suddenly heard across the room. His gaze shifted to the familiar speaker. His mother, the High Goddess Daeda, was standing out of her upraised throne. Her pale complexion was tinged with indignation, and she now had the eyes of all her fellow gods upon her.