There is always much to form and craft by hand and heartfelt intention, though not alone are mortal hands in their desire to shape and carve. With growth and wind and flame, by earth and relentless sea, such are the ways in which beautiful things and monstrosities come to be when time is left to its own devices.
But these alone do not answer for all those things which exist about the realms, whether drawing breath or not, there are things which linger and wander about the world. Despite their age and well known past, their origins are not of natural means. They fall to the realms of those of whom the Sorcerers and Sages speak often in whispers, for though that sort have many faces, there is never more than one.
That is the realm of the conjurers, the wanderers, those who take the lonely path. Though seen in peace and times of strife, they are often omens of a choice to make, or a choice which has already been made, and whose outcome is not yet certain. To kings and commoners they come, daring too to question Sages in their repetitious study of the lore of world and folk.
They come from beyond the horizon and leave with thunderous echoes which sing in the ears of those fortunate enough to gain their council. It is those of pride and foolish nature who would disregard what words they bring. A folly seen too by Sages as they pride their knowledge of history to a fault.