Thoughts of the Tradeshaman
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This is our land.
The Nars.
Our horses run along the endless grasslands, the open sky above.
Our ancestors watch us from the rivers, the rocks and the trees.
This is a good place to live.
We hunt, we love, we ride, we trade.
This is a good life to live.But the outsiders, they want it for themselves. They take our horses
and turn them into their slaves. They do not understand the noble
steeds. They are nothing but servants to further their own ends.
They take our children, corrupt them with their ways and turn them
away from our ways. They fill our land with cities and towns that
are an eyesore. They hide behind walls of stone. Hide from the evils
they brought here themselves.
Orcs. Goblins. Gnolls.
Before they came.. this land was ours. The forests were free of the
elven domination.They tell us they know what is best.
For us. For our land. They rape all that we love, and force us
to watch. These outsiders think we can be blinded with gold and
empty promises. That their so-called peace is best for all.
Lies.
We let them stay. And they have been such poor guests.
Once all of it is gone. Once the horses are spent and the rocks are empty.
Once the forests have been burned and the plains have been spend.
Then they will leave.
And leave behind a barren waste. A grim shadow of what we once had. Who we once were.And now we have snakes, crawling around the land.
If this was still our land, it would never have come to this.
We have lost our true selves. Our ancestors must weep.
