Light streaks through the slats of the old, dilapidated roof of the dusty chapel library. The odor of moldy paper permeates the room as a grey haired monk reads from an unfurled scroll to a cloaked figure.
“...and Loth decreed that Man’s hubris had grown too great, and the power of the Raiment an affront to his divinity, so with a single swing of his sword cleft the mountain and buried the city in stone. Loth took the Raiment and shattered it in his clenched fist, and scattered the pieces across the world so it might never be used again to challenge his word.” The monk stops to hack and cough before putting down the scroll and commenting. “As you know, it is said that the scribe Methian was still in Loth’s retinue at the time, and he recorded the event and the fate of the pieces of the Raiment. He weaved it into one of his tapestries. They have all been long lost though, of course.”
“Particularly during our King’s reign, information on the old religions are hard to come by. You know how he feels about such heretical material… I was able to find what you asked for, but it wasn’t easy…” He smiles a toothless grin.
The cloaked figure pauses for a moment, before pulling a small bag of coins from her cloak and dropping it on the table. The monk smiles again and begins to pack up a bag full of scrolls and tomes that he hands to the woman.
“Here you are, m’lady. I don’t know what you hope to find in those old stories, but it’ll likely be the death of you.”
The woman leaves the chapel and emerges into the busy market streets. She makes her way through the crowd before ducking into a quiet alley and rummaging through the bag. She removes a scroll case, and looks at the contents. With great delicacy she examines the barely legible, tattered and torn piece of tapestry, and smiles.
- The Word
- Starling God
- Methian, The Divine Scribe
- The Watcher, The Many-Eyed-God
- The Forlorn