The beasts danced upon the land, and it was good; Their prints on the land, impermanent and careless. The sea grew jealous and swore to destroy the beasts; Their prints on the land, fleeting and dimming. As the waves ran over the beasts and devoured them, prints and paws, all.
Changelings walk among us. Shadows growing in numbers as they await the birth of their prophesied queen and the Catholic church, which has pursued their kind since the Middle Ages, will stop at nothing to find her...
There is something you need to understand about gods, and that is their unrivalled hatred of boredom. They will do anything within their not inconsiderable power to keep things fresh. Plagues are an old favourite. Nothing gets the people praying like a good old fashioned plague.
