And thus, our story from the brink of civilisation, from brutal and barbaric times, from strange and terrible lands, about Liberators and Child Empresses, oppression and desire, dragons and dreamers, plagues and carnivals, signs and mirrors, tales and tale tellers, comes to an end.
We've heard about lovers fighting slavery; young girls riding dragons; bandits, merchants, Masters, and Vizerines going about their business; warrior women with double-bladed swords making their way through fabled and terrifying lands; tale tellers weaving their tales; famous men and not so famous women inventing very useful things.
We've learned that our memory deceives us, that tales develop, and that signs change their meaning. That's how legends are born.
The circles closed now. Let the legends live on.
(And now I have to thing about some curses combining terms for women's genitals, men's excreta, and cooking implements.
And did anybody find out what those blasted rubber balls were about?)