Post by Coatl of the Imilla on Jan 8, 2022 21:00:31 GMT -5
West of the main settlement, on a dry patch of infertile earth, is a mass grave. Gravedigging is one of the few professions in Port Argentium that rarely goes hungry. Lumps of dirt splotch the land, and more are added every day, like a spreading sickness. Some of them are bodies washed up along the shores. Others are taken from the settlement itself.
Every few nights, a short ways away from the epicenter, a fire is lit, and a large crowd gathers around a particularly intrepid bard. Unable to stand the constant pain and resignation, she sings out a tune to the mistborne isles, sometimes joined by hundreds of other voices. Her goal is to ensure that no uneasy spirits roam the lands unable to find peace:
Every few nights, a short ways away from the epicenter, a fire is lit, and a large crowd gathers around a particularly intrepid bard. Unable to stand the constant pain and resignation, she sings out a tune to the mistborne isles, sometimes joined by hundreds of other voices. Her goal is to ensure that no uneasy spirits roam the lands unable to find peace:
Oh hear me dead spirit,
o brother in pain,
there's a fire here burning
so tell me your name.
Oh was it the hunger,
or a thousand white fangs?
Did you leap in the waters?
Was it all you could stand?
[Chorus]
Oh give us your anger,
and release us your pain!
We'll light your fire,
and survive in your name!
[Short instrumental]
Did you give up your spirit,
in a lover's sweet arms?
Did you give up your life,
to protect them from harm?
Did you leave on good terms
with dear old mom and dad?
Did you murder your brother?
Has the bloodline gone bad?
[Chorus]
Oh give us your anger,
and release us your pain!
We'll light your fire,
and survive in your name!
Oh give us your anger,
and release us your pain!
We'll light your fire,
and survive in your name!
The processions are guarded by archers, and any predators caught digging up a grave are wounded, but not killed, so that the isles learn to fear the taste of human flesh.
The processions are guarded by archers, and any predators caught digging up a grave are wounded, but not killed, so that the isles learn to fear the taste of human flesh.