Infictive County in Prehistoric times
The landscape dark harsh and fresh. Your people are nomadic. Pre-garden culture. Hunting for game that is getting harder and harder to find. Rituals burn long into the night with chants to the gods to bring much game so your kind can go on. Chewing on roots for hours and hours that release one into a trance state. Starving people dancing, energized by the alkaloids burning in their thick boned heads. You spin with the others, your belly churns with there's wisps of colors fleck in your closed eye sight. A feeling of rushing heat moving thru you. You may slip into the visionary state soon. Others are already there, laying or writhing on the ground, chants replaced by incoherent grunts and moans. The roots have stained your teeth purple.
You are the Infictites, the people of the root, the people of the volcano lake
A spear head of the Infictite tribe found in the red hills. Believed to have been carved in 25000 B C.
