<div class="floatright">(http://s26.postimg.org/ux9siu3md/Al_rhayel.jpg)</div><strong>Al´Rhayel</strong>(http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=93354)<br/><hr/><br/>Morning. Or the time that should have been morning.<strong> Al´Rhayel</strong>stod at the bow of the ship, watching the dark tides hitting the horizon. Others spoke about the Winter Solastice in slow whispers of dread and terror, but she knew better. Their nameless goddess,<strong> the Moon</strong>, which civilized men did not even worship, was caged into never ending full moon. It wreck everything. Riptides,  menstural cycles, everything. There had been more stillborns that actual births for the last three years.<strong>Lux</strong>might give them light, but without<strong> the Moon</strong>, there was no life. World needed its shadows as it needed its light. Both in equal balance.<br/><br/>She was in deep thoughts while the ship sailed on the sea, trying to augur an plan of action that would hatch into fruition.<br/><br/><hr/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Intelligence check</div><div class="spoiler_body">https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=72579 = 21!</div></div>