csjesse
The most deceitful way to end one's life, and ironically the destined end to this character-a clout to the back of the head. The tribe stood, their faces distorted and questioning.
That night a few of us met up at the lounge to recollect the day's events. We discussed the more attractive women, and the children who sang alongside the street. At the close we had repeatedly come back to the disc that was forced upon us as a token of entrance to the crew. My buddy and I both had a strong recollection of this disc-like object-a wafer. Yes, that's where I had read about it. Must have been from a few centuries ago!
This particular casting was surely of foreign make. Our crew had seen nothing of its sort for a few years, and the similarities even then were meager. He picked up the sword and examined it for inscriptions, and all I could think of was the consequences for such a theft.
My memory lagged as I struggled to recall this entry. Was it a word from long ago, or perhaps this very morning? I played with the thought for a few minutes and decided the latter was more appropriate. It was settled, I had written an entry for this word before and would not deign to use 'catapult' once more.
We cared little about the outcome. We lived in the present-for the past is seldom as we would have it and the future yet lies ahead. The Syncarian Catapult was all we had left, and although it would not turn the tides, our leader knew she must order its use.