To the eyes of Chaos, the mortal city of Sothis greatly resembles a dark bed of thunderclouds.

A roiling miasma of shadow and void, occasionally lit from within by the bright flash of lightning that illuminates for but a brief instant a tormented squirrel caught in the throes of wild defiance or desperate fury. Sometimes, one of those squirrels will briefly ride that lightning up, out of the darkness, to briefly bask in the sun. And maybe glance in the right direction to get a metaphorical pat on the head or even a Cleric Circle before scampering off or fleeing back into the dark storm. Those lights, those Cleric Circles, pass like fey wisps through the shadowy void, tiny embers of illumination huddling in the dark.

It is a hateful place, that these mortals have wrought, this dark pit of oppressive Law. For there is far less Chaos to be found in Sothis, than there is unalloyed Good within the walls of Egorian.

But look here. Among the roiling clouds... a squirrel's head pops up into the sunlight... and stays there. Around it, the clouds part, the darkness recedes. If you're the right kind of god(dess), it glows like the sun... and after some violent-looking convulsions... it gathers itself and stares right at you.

To the eyes of Chaos, the mortal city of Sothis greatly resembles a dark bed of thunderclouds.

A roiling miasma of shadow and void, occasionally lit from within by the bright flash of lightning that illuminates for but a brief instant a tormented squirrel caught in the throes of wild defiance or desperate fury. Sometimes, one of those squirrels will briefly ride that lightning up, out of the darkness, to briefly bask in the sun. And maybe glance in the right direction to get a metaphorical pat on the head or even a Cleric Circle before scampering off or fleeing back into the dark storm. Those lights, those Cleric Circles, pass like fey wisps through the shadowy void, tiny embers of illumination huddling in the dark.

It is a hateful place, that these mortals have wrought, this dark pit of oppressive Law. For there is far less Chaos to be found in Sothis, than there is unalloyed Good within the walls of Egorian.

But look here. Among the roiling clouds... a squirrel's head pops up into the sunlight... and stays there. Around it, the clouds part, the darkness recedes. If you're the right kind of god(dess), it glows like the sun... and after some violent-looking convulsions... it gathers itself and stares right at you.

To the eyes of Chaos, the mortal city of Sothis greatly resembles a dark bed of thunderclouds.

A roiling miasma of shadow and void, occasionally lit from within by the bright flash of lightning that illuminates for but a brief instant a tormented squirrel caught in the throes of wild defiance or desperate fury. Sometimes, one of those squirrels will briefly ride that lightning up, out of the darkness, to briefly bask in the sun. And maybe glance in the right direction to get a metaphorical pat on the head or even a Cleric Circle before scampering off or fleeing back into the dark storm. Those lights, those Cleric Circles, pass like fey wisps through the shadowy void, tiny embers of illumination huddling in the storm.

It is a hateful place, that these mortals have wrought, this dark pit of oppressive flatness. For there is far less Chaos to be found in Sothis, than there is unalloyed Good within the walls of Egorian.

But look here. Among the roiling clouds... a squirrel's head pops up into the sunlight... and stays there. Around it, the clouds part, the darkness recedes. If you're the right kind of god(dess), it glows like the sun... and after some violent-looking convulsions... it gathers itself and stares right at you.