Moloks

The Moloks were fast asleep in their village of Dantor, a unique habitat built far underground. Moloks have existed for centuries. They possess great knowledge and their skills of wizardry stretch beyond understanding. For many, many years, these peaceful creatures have remained anonymous, continuing their work and passing on the secrets of old to their children, their children’s children, their children’s children’s children… well I think you get the point.

Not a soul ever knew such beings even existed, save in the old folk-lore and legends and no-one had the slightest knowledge of the importance of their work. This is the way it had always been, the way it should be.

Each morning the Moloks would rise early from their living quarters and descend even further underground to the third level to begin the day’s activities in their vast number of workshops. Together they would joyfully wind their ways through the underground passages which had been built a long, long time past and whose design surpassed any of its kind.

Life for the Moloks had run smoothly and happily for as long as their memories could recall. Then one day, a slight disruption occurred in their daily routine which now threatened their very existence.

Meanwhile...

Meanwhile, in a distant place, a small object could be seen moving in an awkward fashion across an area of land filled with hidden terrors. I cannot at this time tell you very much about this object, apart from that on closer inspection it appeared to be conducting its own merry dance. It was also purple.