High above the lands of the living, where frost and howling of the wind reign, the morbid monument to a faith long dead calls the deceased on a last pilgrimage.
Imagine a tribe of nomads where all the males have the blessing of being were-stallions. The tribe would not need to have ordinary horses to move around, all mounted warriors would be female and a curious custom could be that when a couple gets married, the girl rides her chosen to the altar.
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It started as a joke but quickly evolved into the new business of retirement travel