[home_run_batter]

Almost two decades ago,
there existed in the icy wastelands left behind around old Vdalion
a cult of sorts.

A gathering of the nothings and no-ones left behind by the apocalypse,
True believers that their god had not yet abandoned these lands.
This is a scrawling left behind by one of its elders.






2070 AC

Today is a blessed day.

Long has our devout sisterhood lived through strife and struggle,
pain and loss,
starvation and stagnation.

We have suffered through sacrifice, choosing to stay behind in these lost lands
in the hope that our promised day would come, and it finally has.
Our morn of salvation.

Promised by the fortunes read in a pool of our loved ones' blood,
a savior shall come one day, the son of Ymir himself.
Only once the proper sacrifice has been given,
and the requisite amount of blood has been shed,
may his birth be baptized properly.

Tonight, my only daughter has begun to show signs of pregnancy.
Praise be,
for we have not seen hide nor hair of a male in over a decade!

The promised day has come,
and I am ready.