ludd1te

Many years ago, when the high-walled cities of Bglentium still rang to the calls of maroon-robed and veiled priests at dusk and dawn, Penthea came to the hidden town of May Rise. Walking unchallenged past the darkened fortresses at the valley's mouth, she came past tilled fields and watched pastures with no more than passing glances and the gentle lowing of the mighty kharre to accompany her passage. At length the path she took wound between rolling hills to the outskirts of that red-tiled town, with its famous cherry-blossomed avenues and scent as of honey that filled the balmy air and stopped at the dark-beamed tavern on the square with wh