Many have heard stories about the place known as Ildocian tundra. It probably was the washed out colors of the vegetation that stubbornly tried to grow there, or was it the night and everlasting darkness that made people avoid traveling through that plane. Whatever it was, I was getting late for an open sale in Gratna, so I made a short cut through the tundra. Absent life, it appeared safe to step on and walk freely among tall bushes and rotten trunks of lumber that was cut down for the previous siege over Zaria.
Constant wind made me close the gapps on my cape, pull on my hood and cover my mouth with a piece of cloth I wore around my neck. All in black traveling clothes, it was my turquoise royal ban that brought in a little bit of diversity to the depressive surrounding. Huge black raven gawked above my head, followed me and waited for me to die.
While resting on the piece of log I stumbled upon, I saw Ildocian black vulcano rise in the north and a white top that slightly reflected light that somehow couldn’t fall in tundra. A deep breath and a twist of eyes over the landscape, bushes and vert gave me a morbid picture of what was the Ildocian tundra. I became aware of scorched ground tactics Zarians undertook to prevent Ildocian mercenaries to travel fast. Nothing in here was able to provide nourishment nor shelter to a wandered. It was a damned place filled with fragments of bones that once marched to war. Ravens and crows had their fill with warrior’s flesh – a nasty flock of beasts that got used to a taste of raw meat and blood.
Dotted out, old and rusty breastplates glistened in the meadow that stood lifeless. Stained banner held a rustling rag on a pole, hundred steps away. An Ildocian mark filled with holes defied the wind and proudly stood watch over cemetery that was Ildocian tundra. Howl of tundra beasts tickled my ear and turned me around to search for them, but alas, smart predators knew the value of patience and advantage of the darkness of the night.
Tonight will be very interesting time to travel.
I’m just gonna leave these things here… Facebook and Twitter.
And a few more things.
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Love the imagery. It reminds me of a time when I used to run in a field and one morning and a raven landed on my head – it felt like time and space disappeared as I lost my mind screaming while it appeared to try and take my scalp. I never ran in that field again. In my mind your ravens are now butterflies flying together and waving a turquoise band around the black sky, cause they ate you first 🙂
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In my culture they are perceived as omen messengers and followers of the soldiers. Working long night shifts as a night guard near a graveyard, I grew to respect the damn beasts. Do imagine my creativity rise from that sort of influence. 😀
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It sounds like an interesting experience. I bet it did 🙂
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Daydreaming will be the end of me Sgt. Love. 😀
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Then you shall rise from the ashes as your reveries turn to words and stories to be fed to and eaten by the surrendering tribes. You will transmute all evil to good, then serve raspberries for dessert 🙂
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I like that idea. 😀 I now envy your vocabulary and charm Sgt. Love. What have I done to be treated so fondly I wonder? 😀
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laughing – there is a mix between war and raspberries that can make one a ruler of nations, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I pick nations for you 🙂
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Pff, nation. Together we can take on the WORLD. WAR and LOVE, it all fair between us. 😀
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Clever 🙂 Love it!
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