Cinabre made his way through the jungle ferns. His mektoub followed him, but seemed nervous, unused to this environment, which was quite similar to that of his native forest.
After several hours on the run, the Matis arrived at the clearing recommended to him. Behind him stood the massive, withered Stump. A little further on, to his right, was the camp of the sinister Black Circle. But what interested him most of all was this moss-covered expanse of bark.
He took off his heavy kostomyx to put on a softer outfit, and put down his club, taking his pick from his mektoub sticks.
The moss blistered, the bark appeared, streaked with amber veins. All that's left to do now is to extract the raw material with a pickaxe.
Among the mossy debris was a thorn. A simple movement to free a new vein of amber and pic!
After several hours on the run, the Matis arrived at the clearing recommended to him. Behind him stood the massive, withered Stump. A little further on, to his right, was the camp of the sinister Black Circle. But what interested him most of all was this moss-covered expanse of bark.
He took off his heavy kostomyx to put on a softer outfit, and put down his club, taking his pick from his mektoub sticks.
The moss blistered, the bark appeared, streaked with amber veins. All that's left to do now is to extract the raw material with a pickaxe.
Among the mossy debris was a thorn. A simple movement to free a new vein of amber and pic!
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Cinabre Andertini,