 | | Recommended | by Zarina
33.2 hours on record |
| | Posted 7.5 years ago | Last Played 6.3 years ago |
I was a boy born into a village built by people who had come and gone years before we ever arrived, my grandmother having traveled to the once abandoned site by foot from her own, bear-worshiping town.
It was cold. There was no fire in the village to warm ourselves by, so we shivered and hungered. We could still feed ourselves, but we ate much faster than we grew crops.
As I grew, grandmother told us of her old home, of the bear god, and I knew I wanted to pass down these tales. She passed on, I matured, and I built a fire to keep the young warm and tell stories by.
Someone brought me an ax, and I took a wagon. I chopped firewood and brought it home, never letting the fire die. As I grew old, I realized that without a successor, our history would be lost. I chose two, in case one died, both eager to fill the role. Sure enough, one left home and never returned.
I finally withered to the ripe old age of sixty. I gave my surviving heir my ax and my wood collecting wagon before I passed, and when I did, I was resting comfortably on a fur pelt next to my blazing fire. With my final breath, I told my friends and family, "It was a good life here." And it truly was.
I don't know whether or not they'll survive, or if they do, for how long. I don't know if the lore of our people will be remembered even if they do, but I hope so. It won't be long before I, as the old man who tended the fire, am forgotten... but if the next fire-keeper passes on the torch, the flame I first lit will burn for many generations.
This game is amazing. |
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