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Zeo Ranigan, Blood's Black FireAncient magic burns in the blood of men and women, and dragons roam the earth again. When a young teacher takes his student for a walk, can he save him from the evils in this world? Or will he only be able to delay it for a little while?
Zeo Ranigan, a normally boisterous child, was sitting small and still under the shade of an enormous old oak.
It was a spectacular Sunday and children were running all about the court yard playing wild games. Some were armed with wooden swords and shields, while others were swinging from the few trees that grew along the high stone wall. They were exuberant sparks of life held safely with in the walls. Only one small body was sitting still, off to the side, head dipped low. He wasn't hard to spot, his red hair stood out in defiance of his mood against the cool blue of the shade.
From his place near the window Luke could see the sullen child there, hugging his knees with one hand, and half heartedly scra
Vivian's POV She had tried to warn the captain about the storm. He hadn't listened to her. She hadn't pushed the issue, he had experience after all.
That's what all men said. They postured and they puffed them selves up and they shoved their facts so far down your throat all you could do was try not to choke.
The beach was black and white, the sky above a rolling gray, and the water was foaming a sickly green. Her things were gone, and her pod was a shamble of wooden splinters behind her.
She stood. Men were stupid, arrogant children, who liked to strut and swagger like they were the only rooster in a farm full of hens. She looked over at the "king cock" sitting and shivering not far off. His world was shattered against the rocks, and it was his own fault. Now they would have to sit here for a while, and he'd have to come to terms with his mistakes.
She smiled a little. She had come on this cruse to get away fro
Mikey's POV The sun was coming up making the angry sky look milky gray paint boiling overhead. Sprawled under the turbulence was a beach made of white sand and a bramble of washed up branches, logs, see vegetation, and dead fish. Jutting up from the white sand were razer sharp pinnacles of black volcanic rock.
Michael shoved him self up in to a sitting position and gazed around the shore and saw even more logs, see vegetation, and other survivors. This was an uncharted island, far out in the ocean beyond what their country had control of. They knew most of the world, but not every corner had been mapped yet. The sea still clung to her mysteries and defied all who pried. As if angry for their intrusion the see had rolled them and rolled them hard, then dumped them on the beach with all of the other junk as if it had been shaking trash out of it's carpet.
He stood, drew his hair from his face, and tried to take count of every one.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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