Stolen from the Gods
The traveller staggered out of the blizzard into the long hall.

Its sole occupant wasn't particularly surprised by his appearance; he'd long grown accustomed to the distance the fame of his hall had travelled. It quickly became apparent that occupant and traveller did not share a common tongue although a few words were available from the language of the southern tribes. Communication was painstakingly established through the medium of sign and gesture and the little that both understood.

The traveller gestured expansively and spoke to question the identity of the occupant.

"Promutu." he replied. The traveller grinned broadly; he had come to the right place. The traveller gave his name as Anak. He continued, indicating that he had travelled far and braved many dangers - including some large creature, probably a bear, and a wide river that he had been forced to swim across. Promutu tried to look interested; he had heard similar stories for the past dozen years or so.

Now they came down to the purpose of Anaks quest. "Want... Sacred Fire."
The last two words were in Promutu's own tongue, and had probably been passed from tribe to tribe until they had reached the erstwhile hero.

"What got?" conveyed Promutu. He had a nice hall and the attentions of the young maidens of the village not only through his ability to make Fire, but also through his finely honed trading skills.

Anak produced a fur bundle from his backpack and emptied its contents out onto the main table. Amongst the animal skins and polished stones, a glint of metal caught Promutu's eye. He pulled out a leather loop on which was threaded an amulet - silver, unless he missed his guess. It was worked with crude symbols, and Anaks eyes lit up as he attempted to convey its value.
Eventually Promutu worked out that it was supposed to prevent evil spirits from attacking the wearer.

Promutu thought for a moment, then held up two fingers. Anak looked suitably shocked, and held up five. After much facial contortion and baring of teeth, they settled on three, with an option on the fourth for the skins.

Promutu chuckled to himself. The traveller was young, and strong, but he had no experience with Fire. He motioned one of his bodyguards, who fetched the container. Promutu set a clay bowl on the table, and poured the traveller a generous helping of Sacred Fire.

Three? He'd be unconscious after two.

(note: no wonder Prometheus was punished by having his liver torn out every day)
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Thu 5 Feb 2009, 22:54, Reply)