*The hand, holding a feather, start slowly to get closer to the ink pot. Few tip of the liquid on the top and a deep breath is what preceeded the beginning of the writing. The movement is smooth and is clear that, looking at the calligraphy, Bayslak is someone who received an education.*
My name is Bayslak, better known as "the Cleric". I'm the most loyal servant of a god who looks for the equality of actions and judgements, named Pelor.
Not like those unequal kings that are trying to become the Rulers.
His spiritual sign is the sun, because Pelor is the name of the light that can see us everywhere. His goal is to judge us and that's what I'll do. The god himself asked me to accomplish this task. Equality is the word and equality is the rule. Our rule.
*The ink on the feather is finished. A quick movement, much way different from the first one, refill the writing object.*
We want to start spreading the word.
First by moving and exploring around to make contact with different towns. Those will be pleased to trade with us thanks to our big stock and reserve of woods. Without even mentioning the big mobs of sheep that we own.
In a second place we will have to try to settle down some alliances in order to be able to build Pelor's temples in other places. Otherwise we will have to find other ways to be able to build in other area of dominance.
*While refilling it appears, on the ugly face of Bayslak, an expression of satisfaction and desire. A little smile start to be drawn on his mouth. He starts again to write with more emphasis.*
At the end, when the word is gonna be well known across the lands we will start the final judgment. The day where me, the most loyal servant of Pelor, guided by his hand, will start comanding.
*The smile on his face, while writing, kept growing and growing. When Bayslak finished to write down on his book he put the feather on the table, moved a bit the chair to have enough space to move and standed up showing is corporature. Tall guy of middle age. More fat than athletic. Really particular sight with his two big blue eyes, maybe the only good stuff he got in his ugly face.*
Equality is the word. Pelor is our god.
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