Og-Meddwl, Father Granite, lurks deep below Orth, weaving and carving its path through the primordial stone.
It is sometimes said that the first scholars and madmen of ages past would hear the sounds of grating, carving stone in their dreams, forming strange forms and patterns into their dreams that they would take into the waking world as world, images and glyphs. Prophets and arcane practitioners would find inspiration and revelations in a single word or angled carvings found deep in their slumber.
A child of Leannan, the death of his godly elder half-brother Herne has not gone unnoticed and has caused the great sleeper to awaken, reaching up to the surface and beginning to make his presence known.
Finding many races already blessed by his kin and territories claimed, Og-Meddwl has chosen elevation over creation. Finding the Rockfolk, creatures carved from rock similar to his own stony flesh, Og-Meddwl has begun to infect some with newfound desires. Once half-understood constructs of the now largely absent Dwarves, some have begun to brand themselves with seemingly nonsensical marks. Some have even taken to carving these into their very stone flesh and the halls and caverns they call home; as if to infect solid rock with their growing mania and will. While on the surface and lost places of the wilds, slimes, once thought of as insignificant nuisances and minor curiosities have begun to hear an echoing call, compelling them to seek more pray, smarter pray, so they may become something greater. A concentration is gathering free from hunters and interference in the largely abandoned swamps and marshes of Manzili, where only desperate miners or the lost ever go. Where the very rock has begun to shift and whisper in strange, familiar notes.