Dead child.

A child was born into a family that had found hatred and taken nothing more but the child did not know hatred, the child could not feel it, he could not, his nature and his status brought him to the mercy of others.&nbasp; All of his needs and some requirements, to be offered stimuli, must be satisfied and given by others. That status can not support hatred because if others would turn away from him then he would die. The child's mother wore a silver necklace formed from two hundred silver rings. That neclace became broken when that woman picked the child up and three of the rings were lost. She took the child and threw him down a steep bank through thicket and ancient growth, the child fell and was torn then died. His mother formed two hundred silver rings and placed them around his corpse in a manner that she felt her necklace appeared before it became broken.

There was a query resonance that month, before the corpse was taken, as foxes and birds were driven before the reflected moon and bright beams of sun light, from around the lost life through the silver rings wondering why a child should die and be presented. The place took him in, under the earth where he was embraced. There wrapped in earth that became his hide, that formed a cache that contained his dreams the ancient growth ensured that his body would be strong to give him confidence in the world, that requires a person to always fight, above the earth with universal forces bearing down and the worms were enraptured by his penis. Then he was pushed out, back onto the steep bank where the two hundred rings had become tarnished and a voice spoke out.

'Templar, Bow'

'Templar Boe, Yeah! Woe weo Woo Yawoo Yaaa zee zee zee'

Templar replied, and the voice spoke again, this time proud.

'Take the sword Healer Boe'

And it appeared in his hand.

'Do good and never be afraid'

'zeow, zeow, zeow'

Then off he fled, to Roundhall in the end and the voice of the place he died stayed to guide him.