A lone hooded figure knelt in silence upon the stone floor of the shadowed temple. Faint, flickering light provided by a pair of low burning torches flanked a pedestal at the far end of the hall. The figure's barely audible muttering was the only perceptible noise as the eerie silence seemed to echo within the chamber. "Drawer of Nets, I send you two this night." The figure slowly rose and approached the pedestal, then placed two teeth upon it. The teeth were dwarfed by the existing offering already atop the shrine, the massive skull of an Orc. "I was just one after we delivered to you the great Orc King, many of your servants fell in pursuit of that gift. It has been too long between offerings, please take these two and judge their crimes as is fitting." The figure returned to his position of worship, kneeling once more he whispered his holy words, "Eventually, Lims-Kragma hauls up all with her net, bringing them to the Halls of the Dead." The low rumble of someone clearing their throat from behind him broke him from his reverie. Another figure stood bathed in moonlight in the now open entrance to the Temple of Lims-Kragma, Goddess of Death. The twin moons of Britannia shone across his glossed bald head, whilst his simple grey robe seemed to absorb all light about him. His voice was gravelly, hoarse and a note of satisfaction accompanied his words. "They're ready." The worshiping figure lowered his hood to reveal his own bald head and ghostly white skin. "Well that it is so, Priest. The coin for equipment and training runs scarce. What of the oaths? You have selected their first from their own?" The Priest of Lims-Kragma nodded solemnly. "Strong, an offering fit to grant them a boon for when we send this new flock in to the night." The worshiper nodded in response before crackling instruction to the Priest. "The box, contracts, leave it all away for now. A contract cannot be declined, but I must first judge our nestlings capable for myself." Suddenly seething with anger and pale face flushing red, the Priest stepped forward and roared his authority in this religious matter. "Dare you!? The Goddess send you beneath! They are dedicated! They will swear this night before the dawn breaks!" Nonplussed, the worshiper raised his hood once more and touched a finger to a small ebony amulet depicting a hawk that was now visible as moonlight flashed across it. "Drawer of Nets, take no offense for they will soon enough be drawn in by you, but I dare not risk loss of Brothers now. Your servants here are few and I have taken great care in raising these. I fear you will fall in to obscurity in this realm if we Nighthawks disappear now." The Priest fumed. Fierce blue eyes remained locked on the worshiper as he strode to the far corner of the Temple and continued his admonishment, "May She take you soon, Brother. She shall never fall to obscurity...". The worshiper calmly climbed a ladder to an upper level and slammed something closed above the chamber, interrupting the Priest's speech. Vibration shuddered through the Temple causing the entrance door to begin a slow swing shut. Moonlight faded, flickering torchlight gradually returned to prominence and as the last sliver of moonlight disappeared echoing silence filled the Temple chamber once more. The Priest finished his words as he entered a trance-like state. "...eventually, Lims-Kragma hauls all up with her net, bringing them to the Halls of the Dead."
