Xtra Smileys
[Open]
Flame Damnation
July 29, 2021, 04:13:17 am
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
News:   
 
 
  Home Help Arcade Gallery Links Login Register  
Post reply
Warning: this topic has not been posted in for at least 120 days.
Unless you're sure you want to reply, please consider starting a new topic.
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message icon:
BoldItalicizedUnderlineStrikethrough|GlowShadowMarquee|Preformatted TextLeft AlignCenteredRight Align|Horizontal Rule|Font SizeFont Face
Insert FlashInsert ImageInsert HyperlinkInsert EmailInsert FTP Link|Insert TableInsert Table RowInsert Table Column|SuperscriptSubscriptTeletype|Insert CodeInsert Quote|Insert List
Smiley Wink Cheesy Grin Angry Sad Shocked Cool Huh? Roll Eyes Tongue Embarrassed Lips Sealed Undecided Kiss Cry Evil Azn Afro [more]
+ Additional Options...

shortcuts: hit alt+s to submit/post or alt+p to preview



Topic Summary
Posted on: August 16, 2008, 05:24:55 pm
Posted by: Sloane
Alimar was a busy city, not over large, not as big a Tur Geon, the city of the temples, but blessed with a deep bay so that traders from other kingdoms called frequently to provision themselves for the long jouney south across the great waters.
This day the market stalls rang with the chatter of trade.
 
On this morn, the eve of Beltane, dark clouds had obscured the sky and icy blasts struck the lands, bringing sleet and snow from over the sea.
Men muttered to themselves and made the sign against evil as they threw extra furs over their horses, mounted and rode up river.
Posted on: August 14, 2008, 04:30:11 pm
Posted by: Sloane
The old Gods were content and the people prospered. The children played beneath the golden disc and their limbs grew strong and brown.
We sang the old songs to the Goddess the ever changing, to grant us dreams of joy. We lived out our days in a land rich wtih every comfort, thinking it would always be that way.

The voices of the departed speak: "Tell our story," they say.
"For it is worthy to be remembered."

And so I take my pen and begin to write. Perhaps writing will ease these long months of confinement. Perhaps my words will earn a measure of the peace that has been denied throughout my life.
In any case I have little else to do, I am captive, made prisoner here. So, I will write for myself, for those who come after, and for those voices that cry out not to be forgotten.
Bookmark this site!
Powered by SMF | SMF © 2016, Simple Machines
Privacy Policy