Blackwater Islands you cannot petition the lord with prayer

morgana would find her prophet alone and bathed in moonlight. in the loose dark earth at her paws, crude symbols. her paws were dirty with the etching of them, her eyes glazed and far-away.

even as the listener's eyes sought morgana's features, she seemed elsewhere. morgana, she rasped, her movements abrupt and pained as she stretched to look upon her acolyte. my most faithful. i have sensed a change in you.

tell me, one paw hovered over the symbols at her feet. have you found your purpose? are you ready to serve the unnamed god?