Blackwater Islands incendiary

the names of many gods. the listener regarded belen with what might have passed for dark amusement. for all the knowledge she claimed, the girl of winterflame and pleasure magick was all that she had professed to be: a simple, ignorant servant.

tell me of these gods, she beckoned, winding her way slowly around the point of their meeting. the unnamed god demanded patience... and the listener required time. time to find a gap in the armor, a place where she might burrow in and make herself at home. perhaps she would find that in belen's words.