The old civilizations have fallen. The race of men that once solved the riddle of steel depend once more upon the ancient elements of stone and fire. The common enchantments of the last age have become forgotten sorceries. The great cities have returned to dust.

Tonight your tribesmen convene to pass judgement on one of their own. The council sits in a ring. In the center kneels the accused, his arms and feet bound by blackberry vines that menace with thorns. Behind the council, in a much larger ring, are the women and the children, each sitting with a small gathered pile of stones. Silent, but trembling with anticipation.

>You sit among the council, beside your father the chieftain
>You sit in the outer ring, a child trying to appear brave
>You sit in the center, as the accused
>Write-in