Sulajin
09-12-2007, 01:46 AM
A tribe of Ogres in the Burning Steppes have joined together to form a cult. A cult of fire, stone, and death. Their god does not smile on them, but curses them and seeks to drive them away. They know it is a test, however. They know that the faithful who persist will be accepted into his loving embrace when he is ready to take them.
The other day, they found a relic. Hidden deep in their territory is a stone. Not a particularily special stone. But to them it is holy, for it bears the markings of their god.
On the side of the stone is a woman. A troll woman. A troll girl, really. Her face is youthful, innocent, and exuberant with the prospects of life. Her eyes sparkle and dance with mirth, though a crudely etched background shows suffering. War. Death.
She wears simple garb, and is not doing much anything. This young troll girl lounges against a half scratched thing, the artist never finishing the detail on it.
Marring the strangely out of place relic in the Ogre's domain are a set of long claw marks, cutting into the rock she was origionally carved on.
Still she smiles out at the world, all but forgotten.
The other day, they found a relic. Hidden deep in their territory is a stone. Not a particularily special stone. But to them it is holy, for it bears the markings of their god.
On the side of the stone is a woman. A troll woman. A troll girl, really. Her face is youthful, innocent, and exuberant with the prospects of life. Her eyes sparkle and dance with mirth, though a crudely etched background shows suffering. War. Death.
She wears simple garb, and is not doing much anything. This young troll girl lounges against a half scratched thing, the artist never finishing the detail on it.
Marring the strangely out of place relic in the Ogre's domain are a set of long claw marks, cutting into the rock she was origionally carved on.
Still she smiles out at the world, all but forgotten.