Fuscus

Shall our people be molded, (wood, stone, iron, clay, marble and brash) and history shall know we where here. The first people shalt be the last.Though, a half will renounce us and deny, from whom they are. Thrice and once more, then a tenth and some more. They hail from legacy-pass but no more. For the bloodline thinned and broken then war and so to the end.