The painted queen had been gone for some time. The fall and winter season was a meager reason to have missed the kelpie woman (though rumors of her cavorting with Ivar was not a secret). Epithet deems it is time to step up in Nerine...to do something to keep the salt lands from falling into dismay.

The mare, swathed in pale indigo with dun markings, watches how the ocean crashes into the barren cliffs. there is an anger in her eyes as she sees how the lands have suffered at the lack of attention.

Beqanna suffered.

Epither was a creature of old. Her blood ran through these hills and in these valleys. No ill will was directed towards Isobell but perhaps Epithet could lend her services in pursuit of recruiting followers...with their consent or against their will.

E P I T H E T