I was born and raised in a small farming village near a lake. I helped my parents farm the land and fish in the nearby lake. Life was good. On the cusp of manhood the crops began to fail and the lake yielded smaller and smaller catches. Our once happy village became a place of hunger and disease.
An elder confided with my father that this ill fortune was due to our village all but completely forgetting to honor and make homage to the old gods.
That night, I knely and prayed to I knew not who, that our village be blessed and a sign given as to whom thanks and fealty be given.
I repeated my prayers nightly for a month or more. Then on a day plowing a new sectio of field we turned up a heavy odd shaped stone. Turning it over revealed a series of ancient runes carved deeply into the stone.
The town elder was called to translate. It read 'Mishakal Light Bringer, Healing Hand.
I soon learned who this old god of restoration and compassion was and followed her since. The land and lakes gifts were soon restored that season.
I asked permission to take my leave and lived in a nearby forest as a hermit devotee that I might learn to channel her divine power to heal and bring light to others in need or without hope.
One bright morning I gelt she was smiling down upon me! I began traveling far and wide and the first person to believe my tale of enlightenment was Ispin Greenshield.