More randomosity
Am gonna try something vaguely Westing-Gamish, starting with a contradiction and seeing where it leads me. Probably nowhere, but oh well. Might help me get to sleep.
This is a story about magic, dragons, unicorns, castles, and fantastic peoples. Yet there is no magic, the dragons and unicorns have left this earth, as have most of the fantastic peoples, and the castles lie in ruins. Instead, there is a river. A river that runs through a small farming village, huts on either side. The inhabitants of this village do not have much, but they have their sheep.
They really like their sheep. Really like their sheep. As in, AC/DC parody like-their-sheep.
This is not considered unusual, because there are few women to get upset. Women do not fare well in the harsh, rough & tumble society of the shepherds, where duels are settled with swords and everybody goes hungry at night, unless they like lamb chops.
It has been like this for many years, back and back and back. So long, in fact, that none of the inhabitants of the village remember what it was like before.
That is about to change.
The wizard stood on a rock outcrop, nestled between the two mountain peaks that overlooked the village. He was not from the village, and yet he knew of it. Knew it well.
On his shoulder sat a raven, beast of the night. You would think that the raven was a familiar, one of those things that mages like to carry to prove their magic. You would be wrong. The wizard had no magic.
The wizard starts down the path, taking care not to dislodge pebbles with his footfalls. This far up, he could cause an avalanche. Besides the path lay to rocky detritus of a thousand similar avalanches. It is best not to add to them.
The wizard wishes he could fly, avoiding the whole thing. He cannot. Flight has been lost to people since the pegasi left.
The smoke of a dozen chimneys wafted into the air over the village. The villagers were awake, and burning things. This was good. It was cold out. The wizard wished he had a spell to warm himself. But he had no spells.
He walked into the fields lining the valley. A farmer saw him. The farmer rushed to the village, to warn or notify the others.
A welcome party - or armed defense force - walked out to meet the wizard.
I'm bored with this already. Why can't I ever come up with something interesting?
Time for another try at sleep. Will be back if I can't.
This is a story about magic, dragons, unicorns, castles, and fantastic peoples. Yet there is no magic, the dragons and unicorns have left this earth, as have most of the fantastic peoples, and the castles lie in ruins. Instead, there is a river. A river that runs through a small farming village, huts on either side. The inhabitants of this village do not have much, but they have their sheep.
They really like their sheep. Really like their sheep. As in, AC/DC parody like-their-sheep.
This is not considered unusual, because there are few women to get upset. Women do not fare well in the harsh, rough & tumble society of the shepherds, where duels are settled with swords and everybody goes hungry at night, unless they like lamb chops.
It has been like this for many years, back and back and back. So long, in fact, that none of the inhabitants of the village remember what it was like before.
That is about to change.
The wizard stood on a rock outcrop, nestled between the two mountain peaks that overlooked the village. He was not from the village, and yet he knew of it. Knew it well.
On his shoulder sat a raven, beast of the night. You would think that the raven was a familiar, one of those things that mages like to carry to prove their magic. You would be wrong. The wizard had no magic.
The wizard starts down the path, taking care not to dislodge pebbles with his footfalls. This far up, he could cause an avalanche. Besides the path lay to rocky detritus of a thousand similar avalanches. It is best not to add to them.
The wizard wishes he could fly, avoiding the whole thing. He cannot. Flight has been lost to people since the pegasi left.
The smoke of a dozen chimneys wafted into the air over the village. The villagers were awake, and burning things. This was good. It was cold out. The wizard wished he had a spell to warm himself. But he had no spells.
He walked into the fields lining the valley. A farmer saw him. The farmer rushed to the village, to warn or notify the others.
A welcome party - or armed defense force - walked out to meet the wizard.
I'm bored with this already. Why can't I ever come up with something interesting?
Time for another try at sleep. Will be back if I can't.