Patron deity of the Cult of Done, Othamm is always working to counter Mathom's influence.
I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart... Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.
She rose from the waters and cast her eyes across us. I dropped my spear, and the man who was moments before intent on my death did the same, letting his sword and shield fall to the sand at our feet. Let it not be said that the gods do not care for the deeds of men, nay they do care. And in our bloody case, they dissapproved.
By late afternoon, the sky starts to cloud over. The sun shines behind the fluffy clouds, gilding the edges and showing a Jacob's-ladder of rays streaming through the gaps...very pretty. Gradually the clouds shift into a new configuration: you realize with awe-struck, preternatural clarity that the clouds form a map of a coast-line that you know against the blue sky as ocean: surely it's a Sign! Suddenly, the golden beams coalesce into one long ray that strikes across the blue. A star-like gleam flashes under the ray: perhaps it is an island? But the charts show no island there...who would want to hide an island? Who could do it?