Greetings mortals.
Here me now! I am Kord, your God of athletics, sports, brawling, strength and courage. In my time of need, I require an outlawed temple to be erected far from any form of government land or law. I require worshipers to construct in secret, a Temple to the Brawler in my honor, which would see outlawed fighting thrive and gather more and more support in the days to come. Rewards may be given, battles may be tipped in your favor, should you undertake my offer to follow, and build. Should such a temple be founded, great battles and victories will await those who choose to follow their liege. First off, the finding of such a land. Find me the land, where you believe my Temple would flourish, and then worship me on that land. Worship me by speaking your word to me, and I will answer.
Grab your weapon, and prepare for battle. Grab your fear, and harness its power. Take yourself, and kneel to me, and great battles will await...
Kord, the Brawler.
The Clue
The thrall's neck snapped back with ferocious force. A small snap was heard seconds before a red crescent moon of a laceration appeared across his neck spewing blood in rhythmic torrents onto the cracked roadway. The thrall's silent screams came as mere sighs through his severed windpipe as a multitude of red slashes appeared across his body from some invisible force. And then as soon as it had started, it ended. The thrall's lifeless corpse slumped into the dark streets of Market Square, blood forming swiftly in a large pool before the fountain. The pool's crimson reflection gave way to a hunched figure silently slipping through the opposite end of the Square approaching the fountain. Covered in fresh sprays of blood, the stooped figure brushed back a lock of dirty, matted hair. His blood red eyes paid no mind the mutilated body as he passed it, kneeling before the pooled blood at the base of the fountain. He dipped his hands into the fluid so warm it nearly steamed in the chilled fall air, the feeling eliciting from him a snarl as if from a wild animal. Swiftly... Deftly... Furiously he worked. Smearing blood upon the base of the fountain like a madman, he worked with the tenacious force of a starving animal feeding. His hands moved smoothly along the fountain's walls, stopping only here and there to soak his hands in more blood below. Finally he stood, the thrall's blood streaming in rivulettes down his arms. Snarling again in satisfaction, he stalked from the fountain and into the night, leaving behind him the carnage of his kill and the crude mural of a totem next to a river painted red upon the side of the fountain.
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