And I am a man of great discipline.

Like most on the frontier, I can trace lineage back to faraway shores.  But the greater part of my soul belongs to these prairies.

When you stay in a place, you grow into it.  You absorb and transmit without knowing it.  And it takes willpower to gather the awareness, little by little. 

I was a scrawny sproutling.  As fighters go, I’m still scrawny.  But the roots of prairie shrubs go deep to reach water in the harshest conditions.  My frame belies my steel.

And for these types of fights, you need more than just muscle. 

Either the plains are haunted or it’s just the people.  Even with all this flat, open space, there are things to push back – Things that would steal you away from yourself, piece by piece.

The awareness you gather is your only shield.

For the ghosts out here, it’s not enough to weather their wrath… you need to earn their respect.

—

[Bonus: What these images might look like on game card mock ups]

Golnaz the Glorificent and Sheida of the Seven Shinings emerged from their flight with a mild pair of popping sounds, Apparating in the shallow pond and sending ripples out toward the forested edges.  The two sisters fought off the disorientation and kept moving.  There was no guarantee of safety here after seeing what they thought they saw.

There had not been a sighting this far east in thirty years.  They had all read the stories, followed the news.  Now it seemed they were a part of it.

Two steps and they both paused.  Their wands were in their hands in a flash.  Golnaz glanced apprehensively at her quiver of heart-seeking arrows; Sheida dangled the heirloom jade charm that was supposed to alert them of the approaching danger.

For the first time in thirty years, the clover-shaped charm hummed its warning as they felt the air temperature drop.

Both witches heard the word escape their lips before the thought solidified.

“Dementor…”

* * *

http://www.blackgate.com/2011/09/07/art-of-the-genre-eowyn-nouveau-and-herman-lau/

“Attend the beginning, for it is as important as the end.  The four compass winds carry the incense of distant places to stir a drugg’d memory.”

“I’ve dreamt of jade forests with their raven haired shamans and demon-ey’d beasts.”

“Of temple-crowned mountains where the weak overturn the strong in flashes of silk and gold and honour’d blood.”

“I thought all dawnward paths, from Khitai to Cathay, held only ghosts for me now.”

 ”Dark corners of memory where you can only walk backwards in circles.”

“But in the half-light, things you’ve always known take on unfathom’d new life.”

“You can’t go back, and you can’t come back.  Yet here, yet now, you can raise your sword.”

“To point a new way home.”

* * *