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Divine Tears - Chp. 4The moon hung over the inn as if it was watching over the people, who now were lying in their beds to find rest. Eventually even the restless Atos found his way to the realm of dreams. There he found himself in a wooden room, with a splendid amount of space. Two bookshelves, a working desk with an oil lamp glowing on it and a bed were standing in it. Atos sat on a chair in front of the working desk, reading a book. He was smaller, younger, a twelve year old boy to be precise. “Atos. Are you still awake?” A gentle, elderly voice called. Atos turned his head to the left and saw an old man standing next to him. The face was very familiar to Atos.
“I am just looking through a grimoire, grandfather.” Atos replied to him.
“That's fine I guess. Perhaps you might have a chance to get a member of the court magicians, if you keep up to this. I wish Cyl would put as much effort into her studies.”
“She puts it into her sword training, at least. It is a pro
Divine Tears - Chp.3Do you sometimes think about the images Enom showed us, Cyl?" Atos asked his sister.
Well, he showed us pictures of a Sauren priest and some dead Sauren, which probably guarded his artifact. But I did thought much about it." she replied.
I have only spoken once to a Sauren. It wasn't easy to say what gender she was, before I spoke to her. After what I heard from her, most Sauren are wizards. Only a few are warriors, which is because their bodies alter slower and muscular body shapes need much effort. Also their intelligence is high, which makes their magic more powerful then their warrior skills could ever be. However, it seems that their magic was sealed, while the amulet of Enom was stolen. Else, they would have destroyed the invaders. This is was makes me worry. Perhaps our magic could be sealed and I'm not a good fighter, which makes my useless in such a case. So we need a strategy to avoid lethal fights." Atos told her.
"We can discuss this another time, Atos. Fo
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More