Pasquirn
Krosban Description
A grasshopper stood motionless upon a drooping blade of grass. Water beaded at the tip of the blade, growing with snails speed. The grasshopper twitched its back legs, its wings fluttered for only a fraction of a second, the motion so quick it was a blur. It sprung from the grass, sending the water droplet plummeting to the ground below as it flew to join with a large locus swarm. The cloud of ravenous hungry insects wove on a slow course across the field meticulous in their destruction of the natural green. If it stood, it was food and they were going to feast.
Across the field from my vantage point stood a Blighter, a dark druid, guiding the motions of the swarm by moving his hand. The dark robed figure looked at me, his black eyes revealing no animosity or anger. I only saw grim satisfaction, knowledge that this was how it was meant to be. A female voice spoke out from the robes, the serpentine slither of the voice sending chills down my spine; a voice I shall never forget, not even after I die. “It is as it must be mortal,” She spoke, letting every S slide across her tongue. “Without death there can not be life. When this field grows back it will be rich again, pure if you will. The people will cry in anger and despair at first, but in time they shall recognize my glory.”
I didn’t have to agree with her, nor could I have denied what she said then. Only the understanding of what I beheld could hover in my mind. Some things in life are certain. There is death, disease, plague; there is Pasquirn.
Portfolio
Diseases have ravaged the people and creatures of the world for ages. Locust swarms devour crops and the sickly fall and die. This is the realm of Pasquirn, goddess of Pestilence. Her dark reign draws followers left and right, sacrifices to prevent death in families, or for revenge again a farmer is her game. She guides plagues and disease because it is part of the natural order, a fact that has drawn an entire division of druids to her cause. The concept: from death better life will rise, turns many a druid to her vision. The goddess is also the matron of snakes and scavengers.
She was once the goddess of Purity, a form through which she is still worshipped as in the dying elven lands of Tashminé. Her essence in that form still flows out within the land if one looks close. The elves in that region continue to worship the goddess as Purity, hoping she will return to restore them to their former glory.
Followers
Appearance
Pasquirn appears in the form of an Othari woman. Her hair falls in waves, a deep black, a blue tint mixed within it, much like the feathers of a raven. Her eyes are that of a snakes, thin slits wreathed in gold. Her skin is ageless, as smooth and soft as silk, begging to be touched and lavished upon by those who gaze upon it. When she speaks her voice is soft and clear like the jingling of small bells. Her anger is quick to peal like the crash of thunder, and her wrath is a miasma of hissing and fluttering locust.
Burial Rites
Bodies are left to rot, bones left to bleach.