Quoted By:
>PRAYER.
A forgotten ruin, mellowed by time and worn verdant by soft rain. Willows hug the boundaries of a shalestone path. Limestone arches are draped in creeping ivies, their weaving stems bearing broad-based leaves.
Two thin-faced figures huddle beneath the shelter of a weeping pillar, patchwork bags heavy with a stolen bounty. Three confessors stand before them. Their long-torches glow radiant-bright; their caged restraints shine dull-grey.
The mellow graverobber turns to his wife.
"...the last one I remember. It doesn't even have a name. I'm sorry love."
The prayer-stanza is worded poorly, but not poorly enough to escape your notice. The foreign, mauve-stained sky swirls with familiar moisture.
>[NOTHING]. Thieves.
>[BREEZE/FOG] - A chance at escape. [-4 FAITH]
>[STRIKE] - The sky opens. A near-certainty of escape. [-9 FAITH]
