The count of the army was twentyscore and threescore long ships
The oars ploughed the darkening sea and sped the black ships onward like Apollos plague-bringing arrows.
And the maids bid them goodbye with a silent shaking of their scarfs
And we were both sad and glad, and as the beacons were lit to the North and the East the sacrificial priest was offered to the sea monsters.
The light disappeared from the roads.
In the early years, there was nothing to drink either, so all life died.
Fire! Fire makes the vines bleed.
But ice cracks rocks and makes caves where fire can dwell.
O Hera! Woe to those who cast steel onto water
For steel must be cast unto steel, by Ares
Or by Hefaestion set to rock
Where old Kronos holds it fast, before the day breaks in a new king
The count of the army was twentyscore and threescore long ships
The oars ploughed the darkening sea and sped the black ships onward like Apollos plague-bringing arrows.
And the maids bid them goodbye with a silent shaking of their scarfs
It was a starless night and before long it was pitch black around us.
And the sea monsters were angered that their meal had been scrapped.
and from the silver band of the ocean floor deftly weaving through navy blue surfacing in aqua the sirens of the sea called to me
We threw the priests over to them, so that they may learn a thing or two, and laughed merrily
One of the priests came up with a strange looking fishes head between his teeth and made a funny frolicking before us after which he let himself sink back to do the rest of his job.