Place ~ Frozen North
Time ~ 7:43am. 6th of the red month. 12 Years after the Great Seal.
The sides of the mountain glistened in the morning light. The reflection created spectrums across the valley, making the mountains themselves technicoloured.
The storm has had blown in yesterday had left a pure path on the ground, it seemed almost untraveled. But there was always movement across this path, always a visitor or two trudging up the walkway like ants.
Not many actually made it to the shrine, the violent snow storms that ravanged this area kill many and their bones become the path for the next walker.
Sadintie was making his way to the temple this day, he wore a black hat and a thick black fur cloak. His face obscured by a blue scarf and sunglasses. As he walked he hummed a tune on the breath of the wind.
It would be the last day of his trek, as he enters the valley he waves and calls out to the munks, who cheer.
Place ~ Frozen North
Time ~ 9:00am
The old farmer looks out at the mountains after a good days milking.
"no time for staring at the scenery granpa" said the scamp beside him.
"ah have to ejoy it while you can, no guess when ill ever see the mountains liek this again..."
Two of the mounts start to billow smoke or dust then seem to slide down and disappear on the horizon.
"WHAT THE...!!!" he cried in shock.
"your right granpa, they wont be the same again now.." said the little boy.
Time ~ 7:43am. 6th of the red month. 12 Years after the Great Seal.
The sides of the mountain glistened in the morning light. The reflection created spectrums across the valley, making the mountains themselves technicoloured.
The storm has had blown in yesterday had left a pure path on the ground, it seemed almost untraveled. But there was always movement across this path, always a visitor or two trudging up the walkway like ants.
Not many actually made it to the shrine, the violent snow storms that ravanged this area kill many and their bones become the path for the next walker.
Sadintie was making his way to the temple this day, he wore a black hat and a thick black fur cloak. His face obscured by a blue scarf and sunglasses. As he walked he hummed a tune on the breath of the wind.
It would be the last day of his trek, as he enters the valley he waves and calls out to the munks, who cheer.
Place ~ Frozen North
Time ~ 9:00am
The old farmer looks out at the mountains after a good days milking.
"no time for staring at the scenery granpa" said the scamp beside him.
"ah have to ejoy it while you can, no guess when ill ever see the mountains liek this again..."
Two of the mounts start to billow smoke or dust then seem to slide down and disappear on the horizon.
"WHAT THE...!!!" he cried in shock.
"your right granpa, they wont be the same again now.." said the little boy.
