My earliest memories are happy. Joyful celebrations filled the hearts of all who survived Queen Ferra's dark reign and her loyal hunters who slaughtered without reason or mercy. I remember the crowd cheering five young heroes as they paraded past my mother, who held me high in the air, the masses chanting the same words over and over again: "We are the Claw." It was glorious enough to carve in stone, which we did, placing it in a place of honor and marveling as it glistened with rays of justice every sunrise. We gave them unlimited power to restore and unite our broken world, and their rule was just. They bore heirs, raising them with old values, and for years we prospered. Then, my memories started to dim. One by one, our celebrated heroes lost their battles to time, the celebrations withered, and the glimmer from the Stone Claw vanished, covered by neglect and decay. The claw's most beloved heir unexpectedly died, leaving a successor too young to rule. Another vanished with rumors of foul play. As a result, the remaining successors lashed out in petty squabbles as their once unbreakable bond disintegrated, hiding themselves away with secret projects and promises of glory days returned. I'm older now, and my memories are not as bright as they once were. Many of my friends and family are gone, victims of the great wars between dissatisfied factions. We were fools to think that five heroes of the past could hold our fragile world together with the flimsy threads of hopeful promises. But there may still be hope for us, a chance to alter the course of our destruction. However, we may be looking in the wrong place. Perhaps the heroes we seek cannot be found in this place we call home. We may need to look elsewhere. Until then, we hold on to what little hope we have left as the tattered chants of old change to a more fitting phrase, one spoken with commonality and acceptance: "Welcome to Cesnock."