"...a profound, yet brief conversation with Rammus..."

"An elderly mason was inspired by a profound, yet brief conversation with Rammus, and constructed an enormous marketplace which became the bustling heart of Nashramae." Hmmm...

[Mason takes off his shoes at the river to wash off his feet. He stoops down, bowling his hands to collect some water and then pour it into his mouth, a needed relief from the hot Shuriman sun high above him. It must be after noon. He reaches for his bag, but as he does so he notices something far on the western horizon. He squints, shading his worn eyes to try to make out a shape. But it just looks like a cloud of dust... coming straight for him. It's not a sandstorm, it doesn't seem large enough. And it's moving much too quick, he notices. Before he can react, a figure emerges from the cloud of dust, a large, round, spiky figure. He's paralyzed, unable to move as it draws closer to him.]

Mason: OOOH!

[That was his only reaction as the figure abruptly stops just before him. Mason, odd as it might seem for a Shuriman, didn't believe much in the legends of old gods, he never expected an encounter like this. As he tries to decide how to react, he remembers the strange ceremonies he had watched in his city, Nashramae, as a younger man.]

Mason: Oh... um... ugh...

[... He mutters as he awkwardly performs a forward roll, the best he could with his aging frame. He looks up at the creature, who did not seem to react at all to his tumbling maneuver and continues staring at him. Feeling confused, and unsettled as well, Mason remembers his pack and the offerings which he had hearsay had told him would appease the beast.]

Mason: Yes... uh, here!

[... He reaches into his bag and pulls out the treat he had intended to use to make his flour cake slightly more palatable, a small portion of honeycomb. He retrieves, uncovers and holds it high above his bowing figure to the spiky figure before him. He does not watch, bowing his head to the ground, but can feel as the honeycomb is removed from his hand, followed by a loud slurping noise. He waits there for a second, hoping the creature is appeased and leaves without further interaction. As he does so, he remembers the many devout yet eccentric persons he had known to travel out into the desert, seeking Rammus for knowledge. Allegedly, he could answer the deepest questions of the human mind and spirit, and Mason decides to so venture.]

Mason: My... um, Lord? I am so grateful for the privilege of being graced by your presence... And, um... if I have gained some small measure of your favor... I would wish to ask... Well, because I know of your great knowledge...

[As he struggles to find the words, he notices that neither the expression, nor position of the armadillo have changed since he first arrived. He pauses for a moment, and takes a deep breath.]

Mason: What is the point of this life, anyway? I know that I must be close to death, and I look back at the years of hard work as a stone mason which seemed only to sustain this weak frame for to continue the same work... and for what? What purpose could there possibly be?

[He pauses. Still no change in the visitor.]

Mason: Is this all there is? Am I just meant to work the last few years of my life until my strength gives out, and for nothing more than a few more than a few more moments before confronting the cold embrace of death?

[Again, he waits for a response, but none comes. He waits a short while, now growing impatient.]

Mason: Or am I to create meaning myself, then? Use that which I have been given to elevate the <something>? Could it be that the craft and skills I have could serve for more than just the extension of my existence? Could I forge from these gifts something which would make a part of me immortal... but what? What fleck of color could brighten a sea of emptiness? What drop of water could satisfy the parched sand?

[As he reflects on all that he had learned and built, his heart wells up in gratitude for the city that had given him a home, sheltered his family, and provided him a purpose.]

Mason: Nashramae! That's it. I can build. That's what I must do... I can create something great. I can make my city the center of Shurima, the capital of commerce and wealth... Yes! I may be close to death, but I can build yet; build something which will make my memory immortal.

[Distracted by his epiphany, Mason hadn't noticed as the armadillo turned away and rolled into a ball. It now called his attention as Rammus began to spin, kicking up a large cloud of dust.]

Mason: But wait! I must know, is that it? Is that how I can bring meaning to my life? Is that what you would have me do?

: Ok.