Spring,78th,513AV
On a tranquil starlit night the collosal ape lay supine upon the dark green grass. The gentle wind breezed through both his tanned orange fur and also the tall pines around him causing their leaves to rustle omenously in the highs. Whilst he lay with his back on the ground, he couldn't help but gaze up at the stars and recall his final moments at his home. There he had spent most of his time collecting various berries and fruits to take with him on his long and dangerous journey into the unknown. He decided to resight songs of his homeland whilst lost in his dream world, as it comforted him.
I am a wind through the pines
I am a spark between two stones
I am the sound of the storm
I am a beast of seven combats
I am a bird upon a cliff
I am the silence of the sun
I am fair
I am a fire for valour
I am a trout in a pool
I am water in a cloud
I am the excellence of music
I am a roar that wages battle and casts blood.
I am a god who forms subjects for a ruler
Who explains the pain of the mountains?
Who invokes the changing of the moon?
Where does the sun set?
Who brings wisdom to the people?
Why do those with wisdom laugh?
What man, what god, forms weapons?
Indeed, then;
I invoked a sarcasm...
a sarcasm of wind.
On a tranquil starlit night the collosal ape lay supine upon the dark green grass. The gentle wind breezed through both his tanned orange fur and also the tall pines around him causing their leaves to rustle omenously in the highs. Whilst he lay with his back on the ground, he couldn't help but gaze up at the stars and recall his final moments at his home. There he had spent most of his time collecting various berries and fruits to take with him on his long and dangerous journey into the unknown. He decided to resight songs of his homeland whilst lost in his dream world, as it comforted him.
I am a wind through the pines
I am a spark between two stones
I am the sound of the storm
I am a beast of seven combats
I am a bird upon a cliff
I am the silence of the sun
I am fair
I am a fire for valour
I am a trout in a pool
I am water in a cloud
I am the excellence of music
I am a roar that wages battle and casts blood.
I am a god who forms subjects for a ruler
Who explains the pain of the mountains?
Who invokes the changing of the moon?
Where does the sun set?
Who brings wisdom to the people?
Why do those with wisdom laugh?
What man, what god, forms weapons?
Indeed, then;
I invoked a sarcasm...
a sarcasm of wind.
As he sung this song he found himself sat on the stump of a dead tree, which had fallen down in one of the winds that the spring showers braught. Hunched on his two large feet, curling all ten of his toes around the side of the large stump so as to have balance upon the seat that his great mother of nature had provided him. He was overcome with frustration and sorrow as he could not find the final plant that he wished to add to his book. He had just about given up and was ready to go back to his family with sorrow in his heart, when a sudden stroke of luck flew against his sad self. There, near the side of a gnarled dead tree, worn due to years of eroding, was the lustrous sanguine colour of the midnight death, newly bloomed, given its name for its leethal poison.
The ape's face lit up with excitement, he knew instantly what it was he had found and how lucky he was to have made such a rare discovery! Gruul shifted his body downwards, balancing his weight upon his left hand and curling it in to a large knuckle so as to prop him upright. He reached his free hand foward ever so gently and with both his index finger and thumb he started to pick at the flowers one by one. When he had picked seven of the beautiful flowers up, he left the last of the bunch in his grasp in order to examine it and take notes down for his field guide. As usual, he started by tasting the flower, taking a pinch off the plant and eating it, and noting down that the flower was edible, which Gruul may or may not have known before deciding to take a taste. He avoided taking bites from any other places of the plant as he knew this family was leethal, and the poison could easily kill him, and noted down the characteristics of its the stalk as he did the flower. He took an hour or so cutting open the stem, wearing his protective gloves of course, and making notes of the juice that oozed from it, which was typical of the family of plant to do. This paticuler type of plant however had a unique trait about it, which he had never come across before. Of course this instantly excited him as something he himself may have discovered, and thus decided to add this into his field guide:
The posion, or latex, that oozes when the stem tissue is cut or broken—a feature common to all members of it's genus—is also sanguine, but slowly turns yellow upon exposure to air.
He had done what he had aimed to do, and despite finding food for his travels he had also found valuable information on a rare species of plant. Gruul saw this as a blessing, a good-luck charm before his venture in to the unknown and felt confident that he was bound to find fortune outside of the spire. Life was good.
For example, if you had added more to how singing felt or how the flower tasted, etc., you would have earned more points.
