a story teller comes in from the frosty bitterness that was the mountains at this time and leans forward towards the ppl to tell them a tale. 'this tale,' he said, 'goes back before men could remember the light and when we lived in darkness that the sun could only give'
the children scooted closer to him and a woman brought him a warm drink that he wrapped his hands around in order to gain feeling into his fingers. 'thank you,' he told the woman before looking at the enamered children
'this place use to be a thriving area. the assassins and workers around here were known for miles for their strong and beautiful weapons, women and craftmanship. when u came here u looked for the best and u got it. rarely even in market trade was there a dull moment b/c goods from all ovr the world came in from all entry pts of the city. *gestures with his hands after place his drink down before him* during the evenings when the assassins or travelers came through ppl would buy them drinks to hear the stories they brought back from afar. their talls would be from the coasts of india all the way to the new world across containent.'
the story teller pauses long enough to throw another log on the fire, watching it crackle peacefully ovr the others that were burning.
'their story how ever has a dark ending as the sickness from the new world crossed the land and grasped the ppl with such a grip one looking at the affected died too...their story starts like this... the story of ur old ones... *he fades off into the story*
Rose Red (under construction)
Built on the legend of the great house, Rose Red, is a place for artists, rpers, musicians and even writers to come and hang out
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