Link to Ballator's BDA Plaque: ID 8232 | https://www.deviantart.com/ballatordesig...-824663534
Write in your Prompt:: Oleander approaches the Tyndariai, but his gaze slips to the dark rocks beneath his hooves. Had he claws he would dig them into the stone to find purchase, for the presence of the Deathlord is like a mighty bellow of all elements. Waves crashing, storms howling, the world shaking and twisting upon itself- and then- unfolding into a silent expanse in the eye of the storm. Now the ripples of power are like static in the air- the Deathlord is both the rumbling thunder and blazing lightning of a storm and the rains that follow that heal the earth. At this thought the wild terror gripping the Steppe ballator is soothed with the gentle caress of curiosity.
Head still bent in deference Oleander whispers, "I wish to be free of the other gods- too long the lowlord has stalked my dreams. Too long his servants have kept me prisoner until... only venom flowed from my mouth. The Moribund's poison. Like a blight they spread across the land and fester, ruining all they touch and butchering what resists them. I had believed that Hannibal could return my fallen Sages, but all I have seen him give his followers is blood and misery."
And then to the Head of Light he continues, "I come before you to change and ask you to make me a beacon of your guidance. Let my coat bear your sigil so that all know who I truly serve- and be an antidote to the Moribund's poison."
Write in your Prompt:: Oleander approaches the Tyndariai, but his gaze slips to the dark rocks beneath his hooves. Had he claws he would dig them into the stone to find purchase, for the presence of the Deathlord is like a mighty bellow of all elements. Waves crashing, storms howling, the world shaking and twisting upon itself- and then- unfolding into a silent expanse in the eye of the storm. Now the ripples of power are like static in the air- the Deathlord is both the rumbling thunder and blazing lightning of a storm and the rains that follow that heal the earth. At this thought the wild terror gripping the Steppe ballator is soothed with the gentle caress of curiosity.
Head still bent in deference Oleander whispers, "I wish to be free of the other gods- too long the lowlord has stalked my dreams. Too long his servants have kept me prisoner until... only venom flowed from my mouth. The Moribund's poison. Like a blight they spread across the land and fester, ruining all they touch and butchering what resists them. I had believed that Hannibal could return my fallen Sages, but all I have seen him give his followers is blood and misery."
And then to the Head of Light he continues, "I come before you to change and ask you to make me a beacon of your guidance. Let my coat bear your sigil so that all know who I truly serve- and be an antidote to the Moribund's poison."
