Far Water Swamp

*The night was cold and quiet as Baldur slipped into the small Vorloran village on the outskirts of the Far Water Swamp. Five homes, no children, and surely, plenty of valuables. Bladur slipped into the first home, quiet as a field mouse. Nothing! A small statue of Quetzaya, worthless to him. Sliding into the bedroom, he plunged a knife into the heart of the man in the bed, then the woman sleeping next to him quietly.

Next house, a quick pick of the lock and he was in yet again. A few family heirlooms, some hand crafted jewlery, and again, all the people in the house caught a knife to the chest. This process repeated till no one in the small village was left alive. Then Baldur brought all the small shrines to Quetzaya out into the middle of the village, soaked them with kerosene, packed wood around the base and set them ablaze. He sat on the ground and pulled his hood down and his mask off, watching with his head resting on his arms.*

I hope this hurts her...damn gods think they can interfere in the lives of people who dont want them...

*Dark clouds slowly began to drift across the pale face of the one moon that was out tonight, until the entirety of her light could not penetrate the black sky. The night began to slip easily into darkness, as though submerging willingly into unconsciousness. The light never returned as all visibility was gradually blinked out of existence. The twisted trees of the swamp could no longer be seen, nor the muddy grass beneath one's feet or the stars of the night sky above. All that was left that could be seen was the hellishly red glow of the burning village nearby, and the heavy scent of charred remains that laced the frigid air.

From the fiery remains of that village, a silhouette shimmered, merely standing at first, framed in all of that destructive glory, then it turned and approached the only other sentient thing within miles, the human Baldur Zahk. Though the night was pitch black and it was difficult to see, the fires provided enough light to reveal a few of the features of the approaching figure. A Vorloran elf, with hair that shined like freshly spilt blood that ran in rivulets down her arms and back, and a black tattered scarf was wrapped neatly around her eyes. She wore leather that might have been unremarkable if the snakeskin did not seem to slither across her flesh and give off its own corpse-like illumination independent of the firelight. But as she neared, it would become apparent that it was not leather she wore at all, but her very skin. A breech cloth between her legs was the only show of modesty.

Though she closed the distance until she was very near to the human, her voice seemed to carry on the wind as though from far away.*

"Are you not interfering with the livesss of people who do not want you? I am not too proud to admit I am hurt."

*Baldur looked up at the form infront of him, but did not bother to stand up. He knew who she was. Given what he had done here, there was only one being she could be. He believed the gods exsisted, he knew they did, but he didn't care enough to show them the respect they wanted. He let his eyes lock where hers should be.*

I do what I must for survival. Your minons kill simply anyone who doesn't follow you...And yes, I know exactly who you are. I'm not so ignorant to ignore the stories your followers pass around.

*Baldur looked past her to the fire, His brow furrowed a bit as she was standing in the way of the heat being given off.*

*If his dismissive behavior spurned her, she did not seem to mind. Her lips merely curled, almost with a sort of humility.*

"It is more complicated than you think. It is the chaosss of light that pains you. I will bring order to all things. I will bring pleasure."

*She knelt before him, so close that it seemed as though the sliver of air between them became electrically charged. She brushed the back of her fingers lightly against the human's cheek. At her touch, a strangely appealing warmth was transmitted from her hand into the mortal's core. The light of the fire behind her faded until it, too, was black, and Quetzaya was the only visible being in existence.

Her hand rotated and she cupped his jaw in her palm.*

"I can appreciate the darkness within you as the othersss cannot. Your pain, your bloodlust, the tassste of bitterness on your lips."

*Her forked tongue flickered out between her fanged teeth.*

"They make you strong, not weak. I can make it sssomething you enjoy, so that your body is forever in heat, and your mind never cold. I can be the control you are craving, if only you would join me. Together, we will end the senselessnesss of absolute freedom."

*She slithered around him, her muscular scaled tail coiling around his body, caressing him. She placed her hands on the back of his shoulders.*

"However, if you continue to deny me and forsssake me, I will take you anyway. You are too important to the game, but I promise thisss...without me on your ssside, you will have an eternal existence of only torment and failure. And you will be alone."

*Her tail constricted briefly, then released him entirely. She stood on two legs once more, and the fire behind her burned brightly.*

"Think it over."

"You already have the answersss you seek."

*Silence followed, and moon-pale light gradually returned to the world. The goddess was gone.*

*As Baldur awoke in the morning, he found that the fire had gone out, but he was still very much warm. He crawled out from his tent and began packing it all away, while Quetzaya's words still echoed in his head. He ate a bit of cold stew then made his way out of the small village down a makeshift road.*

What did she mean I'm more important then I know? I'm still just a village rat...

*Baldur continued down the road, now starting to wonder if she was just trying to rile him or if she meant what she said. The feeling of warmth was soothing, made him feel relaxed despite having a rough night with very little sleep. The air was warm, so he pulled his mask and hood down as he continued walking.*