A Call for Assistance (24/8) - Zola
Aug 28, 2022 9:25:11 GMT
Toothy, Velania Kalugina, and 3 more like this
Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Aug 28, 2022 9:25:11 GMT
Another holy war is brewing in the Dawnlands. Another eternal conflict between two goddesses, diametrically opposed to each other, played out by their mortal and immortal followers.
Loviatar and Lliira. Pain and pleasure. Can’t have one without the other — thus the balance must be kept. However, Loviatar’s cultists in the Feythorn seek to the tip the scales, seeking favour with their mistress by torturing small animals and whatnot. Zola has yet to see these cultists in person, but she reckons they must outnumber Lliira’s local champions: the baby couatl Iqpi, the cursed paladin Sardaq, and Lof’Tarian Thy’o-Wynraek-Agrach-Dyrr, also known as Toothy.
Sardaq has been successful in slaying these Loviatans, going so far as to have forced them to retreat into a cabin that he is too large to enter, but what are they planning to do here? Glade and Toothy found a cultish book written in strange languages — will it shed light on their schemes and activities once translated? Will they retaliate for the theft of this book?
Nothing but unanswered questions. Zola has no choice but to wait for someone to tell her the next step.
But enough grim thoughts for now. She puts a particular sheet of parchment on the table, dips her pen in ink, and begins writing a letter to a little girl — a young human girl whose mother forbids her from wandering out and associating with adventurers. A mother’s concern for her daughter is understandable, but Zola doesn’t like seeing a child’s freedom being stifled like that.
Obviously, Nira is going to keep on rebelling against her mother, and if she is going to continue wandering off, she might as well learn how to defend herself.
She takes the pen off the paper and speaks Nira’s name aloud, and the parchment moves on its own accord, folding itself into the shape of a crane. The paper bird flaps its wings and flies gently out the open window, carried away by the summer breeze.
Loviatar and Lliira. Pain and pleasure. Can’t have one without the other — thus the balance must be kept. However, Loviatar’s cultists in the Feythorn seek to the tip the scales, seeking favour with their mistress by torturing small animals and whatnot. Zola has yet to see these cultists in person, but she reckons they must outnumber Lliira’s local champions: the baby couatl Iqpi, the cursed paladin Sardaq, and Lof’Tarian Thy’o-Wynraek-Agrach-Dyrr, also known as Toothy.
Sardaq has been successful in slaying these Loviatans, going so far as to have forced them to retreat into a cabin that he is too large to enter, but what are they planning to do here? Glade and Toothy found a cultish book written in strange languages — will it shed light on their schemes and activities once translated? Will they retaliate for the theft of this book?
Nothing but unanswered questions. Zola has no choice but to wait for someone to tell her the next step.
But enough grim thoughts for now. She puts a particular sheet of parchment on the table, dips her pen in ink, and begins writing a letter to a little girl — a young human girl whose mother forbids her from wandering out and associating with adventurers. A mother’s concern for her daughter is understandable, but Zola doesn’t like seeing a child’s freedom being stifled like that.
Obviously, Nira is going to keep on rebelling against her mother, and if she is going to continue wandering off, she might as well learn how to defend herself.
She takes the pen off the paper and speaks Nira’s name aloud, and the parchment moves on its own accord, folding itself into the shape of a crane. The paper bird flaps its wings and flies gently out the open window, carried away by the summer breeze.
