The Festival of Her Mercy

[ludster]

    
   
The songs of triumph amongst drakes and dragons echo throughout Esshar with a tauntingly ignoble tune.
    
In their loss would they not falter. Dragons do not grieve, they merely use such uncontained indignation to fuel the brimstone that cascades from the very breath they unveil. And in this state would the snowy peaks of the Tarians seem to billow outward into a flurry of a snowstorm. As if the Den Mother's hatred for those below simmers and grows while the mountains merely act as a reflection of such emotions.
    
Word flies upon the rumormongers of Esshar. A festival of sorts would occur before the mountain upon the next moonless night.
   
    

   

   
The grandest revelation of the superior religion would clamor into completion.

   

Word spreads of a celebration amidst those that revere Her name, a time to unveil one's piety as all will be answered by the Black Matron.
    
Her mercy is here. Judgement from the Ebon Goddess.
    
Esshar is no longer safe from her shadow.

    

November 3, Wednesday at 7PM EST

Garljing's Coat