Two days ago a runnertwo days ago a runner had returned with the news that a herd of plainsbeasts a few days run away. The whole village was a flurry of preperation, Old women baked hard breads of beans and corn,and filled dry gourds and stomaches with clear water. The old me prayed or mixed paints, and spoke with the novice hunters about the days ahead. The Isle of Flowers was made busy crafting and repairing bows, spears, bolos, and atlatls, all of the tools of the hunt. The bow is next to useless against the great beasts,with their hides like baked leather, fur like braided grass, and scales of stone. And there Isnt a bolo long enough to ensnare even one leg oTwo days ago a runner
We are of the plainsWe are of the plains...We are of the plains
We are of the plain, and the plain is our heart. Before the first Lotake people were born all the world was grass. An endless sun baked golden sea. Then the great father let spill the rains they fell and fell until it covered all the world, and the Father saw that this was not good and so the rain was stopped and forced into a great river dividing the world ino two halves. Then the Father spread all animals great and small upon the earth, but the animals near the river were pulled into it by its rushing currents and drowned, and the animals who were not drowned ran far afield of the terrible river and
it rarely rains hereIt rarely rains here, here where the sky is so big it dwarves the earth. It rarely rains here but there is allways wind. At times the flags and pennants on the lip of the villiage flutter peacefully and at other times they are ripped from their long spear-poles to fly into the wind like tortured birds, writhing and twisting out into the distance, dark islands in the distant sea of sky. And there is Sun too. So bright and fierce that few but the hulking giants of the plains, with their thick dusty scales, can brave its glaring eye. It rarely rains here, but when it does it comes quikly. Dark clouds appearing in the pale sky, to beait rarely rains here
I might explode
I see you are an SCA guy, so I suppose you hang out on the ArmourAarchive?
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A person isn't born with talent. They're born with a yearning and love to strive at a certain area they favor. No one ever really claims it's a talent until that person's actually excelled at it to a noticeable level.
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Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot.
In your soul are infinitely precious things
that cannot be taken from you.
Oscar Wilde
I really like ur story so far... Ur idea of creation rocks!!
Goin 2 add u 2 my watch list... ^^
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