Rising Hell And Spitting Fire

The black night gathered against the stars like the smothering of wet velvet to naked skin—dark and decadent, wholly oppressive, choking the midnight hour, for even the moon glowered only dimly from the heavens, merely a cut of silver in the accumulated gloom. Unrest plagued the grave eve, as flies to the dead; there was the unsettling shift of small feet in the forest undergrowth, the slithering hiss of wind through the dark canopy, the low and ominous call of an owl, his round eyes glaring like coals through the trembling leaves. On this night, nothing slept, as the passing days had brought tempest rage and brutal storm, a natural and hellish uproar of earth and sky, with pain and pestilence honed on the unwary. In that land of virescent beauty lay a disc of brightest blue. Like a mirror on the wall it was oval and flat, the surface forever guarded from the winds by the crown of lush hills around. At the edge the land met and carried right on as a perfect reflection. Looking up into the sky and down into the water was just the same.

OOC: Sorry for the sucky starter, I need to hurry to work.

" words of a god"