I have been on the run for centuries. Chased by that She-Demon and her rabid pack of wolves. Constantly on the hunt she will never be satisfied until my blood is spilled—covering her hands. Her bloodthirsty rampage has led to the demise of my brethren. I am the last of our kind; the sole survivor of what was once a flourishing pantheon of gods, charged with the duty to propagate our race, so that we do not die out.
At first my mission had seemed easy. However, centuries have passed. Our people—the ones who used to worship us—have long forgotten who we were, interbred with the other gods’ creations. With no one to worship me, I have become weak. My god powers barely accessible.
Practically mortal I was barely able to escape Niscirene’s grasp. Weary from the constant worry, the running, the nagging voices of my deceased kinsmen seeking vengeance for their downfall.
One of the other gods, from one of the different pantheons, must have felt compassion or pity. For they left their people unattended, forfeiting their right of patronage. Their children’s—humans—cries reached out to my lonely soul. They needed someone to watch over them, protect them. And I needed people to love me, worship me. A deal was struck between the villagers’ and myself. I was to become their patron goddess in exchange for their devotion. For the past century I have been watching over the tiny village, helping them flourish into a healthy successful agricultural town.
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Arcane
FantasySome say that the gods are more human than mankind. They feel emotions much more acutely than their creations. Driven by a mad desire to kill the last of a rival pantheon, Niscirene hunts Fredonia across the centuries for her chance to finally exa...
