Lore, Poem, Sagas, Short story, Weekend


A power assumed by coin in a void where coin bought power before, the subjugated silenced and made the enemy.

Shame was coupled with hate to fight off the legends of old, to kill hope in its crib and make vile the glories of by gone days.

It was the new will, the imperious, a law to bring more coin to those who would crown themselves as kings and gods by the power of the value of gold.

It would take a generation or two to finally embrace the ages. To hold the glories long shamed, and take arms against their kings.

And what great bloodied revenge they would wreak upon the deceivers. What a fitting end to them, hanged on public display.




A prompt response.

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