A Serpent Priest of Mormo, awakened after 4000 years to a dead faith and war ravaged world


It is a burden to be forgotten, to know that the world around you has left you behind, that it has let your faith fall to dust and your life turn to a whisper in the wind. She was someone once, a person, a priestess, a consort, a mother of her own brood. All of it is gone now, and she remains alone, despised, uncertain of the world she walks and her place in it.

It becomes a prison of fear, to know that if you forget a fragment of your life that it may in fact be gone from living memory forever. If she forgets something, is she less for it? Does part of what she was disappear with it never to be known again? A slow death, by forgetting.

What remains? Do you shed your skin of memories anew, built new experiences, new thoughts, new opinions, new faith, new life from that which now surrounds you? Do you molt the old for the new, or does the act of such forgetting simply become a new life of an old death. Will she die, or will she live, and is it even a choice now? She cannot remember forever, mortal as she is.

At its core, all she knows for certain is a desire to live. Will it be enough?


Legacy of Non nw_meyer