LUDO
"They are, aren't they?" Ludo's rags clap together, the deity clearly quite pleased with its creation. And it might have ended there, jovial and filled with a vibrant and childlike energy - but Deimos has to go and mention the festival. And the Sword will swear that the area around the shrine has just been plunged into the Tundra for how cold it gets. Even the candles dim, leaving them shrouded in shadows, leaving Ludo's mask a ghostly rictus of fury."The barrier between life and death grows thinnest, at the time of the Festival of Lights," it explains, monotone, livid. "The Voice found a way to slip through that barrier, to corrupt that which is sacred to all those who live and pray to us. She perverted the natural way of things."
