Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191231020555

Zeba...

The long reach of the newest ruler, only so lengthy it was. His eye...only so far he could see. For, the word, teeming so far from the interest of wealth, spilled forth from the distant lands.

Lands of poverty where many are left...abandoned. Forgotten. It is among them, that the whispering mantra may be heard...

Zeba...

They stray from its message, incomprehensible to the ears. Alas, it does not cease. Its harrowing traveling in the winds. To the edge of the impoverished villages, it was not its origin.

The winds, they carried its presence from further still. Long through abandoned roads. Long through desolate roads where few find desperation to be a compelling force.

The wind courses through them, but are far from starting, receding further still...

The darkened land, set in abyss by history. A wedge of mass death, small and grand. Numerous and singular. The death of many, and the death of one entity...