<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Sunday, November 02, 2003

Words : 0
Total : 2,208/50,000
Evaluation : Noooooooooooooo

.... Okay, okay. So I do have 576 more words, but it's too fragmented to plug down here yet. Anyway, that means ... uh ... anyway, I'm behind on schedule. But I'm going for bed now. Toodles.

Words : 221
Total : 2,208/50,000
Evaluation : This took me two hours. TWO HOURS. I AM DOOMED. DOOMED


2.1

A great network of lines lies spread across the wastelands. Lines of hardened soil, spreading for miles and miles. Not many people travel along these lines, as they are believed to bring great misfortune. Few of the explorers who dared to travel to the end of these lines have returned. Of those spare ones that have, some spoke of many great treasures. Others spoke of horror and destruction. Many of these stories have taken on a life of their own, and spread like wildfire across remainders of civilisation. These stories, some dating back more than a hundred years, entice others to travel these lines. Their hearts filled with greed, or mere foolish bravery and sense of adventure, they too set out in search of their fortune.

One of the more popular stories revolves around the Curse of the Lines. It is said no-one comes back from one End and lives. Once marked invisibly by the Curse, one is fated to die before a year has passed. The most common accepted cause of the Curse is attributed to the souls of those who died before at the Ends of the Lines themselves, unable to find rest, eternally disturbed. Dwelling on the remains of the past, lashing out their curse at the living who are foolish enough to trespass on their grounds.