Anamo, the father of fire was the god of heat and the god of the season, Summer. Tall, Handsome, brave is his appearance, and his hair was the color of the best, beautiful, perfect color, cherry. It was him that kept the mortals on earth warm and in comfort. Anamo wore a dark red helmet and wore a suit of red armor and is immune to burns and cold. One day in the town of O’land a young boy named Volkor was playing with his friends in the moist, bright, green grass on a hot summer day. Volkore wore a light red chiton and a laurel wreath his mother gave him as a gift. Volkore was a young, mischievous (not evil), curious,clever and stubborn boy who loves the color red. His friends Perague and Sator were not into mischief but still decided to be his
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Volkore, Perague and Sator were having a sleepover and they thought nothing could stop them because their parents agreed. Just that night Volkore had a dream, Volkore was walking along a footpath and a mysterious man had turned Volkore into what is now called magma for punishment.
The next morning Volkore had an epic idea he was going to drop paint on his friend Perague. Volkore had waited an eternity. He heard footsteps getting closer, closer, and then the paint can dropped.
“Aghhhhh,” Screeched an old man as he headed inside his house for a towel. The old man’s name was Jiliayardtusacafrancisatobada Jeff but people called him an old man since they couldn’t remember his name, even the old man called himself an old man because he failed to remember his first name. Volkore could feel the trouble he was in his hands shaking, the taste in his mouth tasted bitter, and he felt like his mother was calling him in a
Volkore, Perague and Sator were having a sleepover and they thought nothing could stop them because their parents agreed. Just that night Volkore had a dream, Volkore was walking along a footpath and a mysterious man had turned Volkore into what is now called magma for punishment.
The next morning Volkore had an epic idea he was going to drop paint on his friend Perague. Volkore had waited an eternity. He heard footsteps getting closer, closer, and then the paint can dropped.
“Aghhhhh,” Screeched an old man as he headed inside his house for a towel. The old man’s name was Jiliayardtusacafrancisatobada Jeff but people called him an old man since they couldn’t remember his name, even the old man called himself an old man because he failed to remember his first name. Volkore could feel the trouble he was in his hands shaking, the taste in his mouth tasted bitter, and he felt like his mother was calling him in a