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A dying lord of a dying people seeks comfort in the arms of a soldier turned sower. The distant sun rises over an artificial moon hung gently in orbit of Saturn's rings. You fear the encroachment of the frost as winter takes hold.
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v.3: 02-Mar-2024 18:58 -
JTN
(Current Version)
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Changed IFIDs, description |
v.2: 02-Mar-2024 06:20 - Cerfeuil Changed author | |
v.1: 02-Mar-2024 06:18 - autumnc
Created page |