Dread Thvalto ((Th-vaul-toe))

I write to you today, fellow acolytes, of the story of our great god Dread Thvalto. I will hold no fact from these pages, no matter in what manner they may be perceived.       Dread Thvalto appears much like the vicious northern wolves lurking at the edges of The Elvish Forest- Pintosehnlin their slick, black fur and wide snout apparent on the lord's face. Unlike his lupine cousins, Thvalto has gained crocodilian traits from the source of his divinity: his eyes are slitted and sickly yellow, at midback his fur gives way to green scales that cover his hindquarters, and his tail is that of crocodiles. As well as his strange composition, Thvalto's form is also of far greater size than his mortal cousins; totaling a hundred and twenty feet in length and sixty-two feet in height.       Our lord's power is drawn from a mystical object known as a Divine Spark that grants him his intellect, form, ability to breath under the surface of the water, and his control over the swamps. He holds dominion over our bogs in their entirety: the mud, the dirty water, the buzzing insects, the trees, the vines, and the snapping crocodiles. All bends to his will.       Having observed Dread Thvalto for a multitude of years, I can speak with confidence on how our lord has spent his time. For most days, Thvalto disappears into the swamps, often hunting large beasts that have encroached on his territory (such as the rampant Wyrms), or lounging at the bottoms of large pools. However, he spends just as much -if not more- time amongst his human subjects. Horizon is one of his favorite haunts: patrolling through the streets, observing his subjects in their daily lives, and playing with those willing to entertain him. He is so often seen in Horizon, in fact, that the streets -by regulation- must be wide enough to account for Thvalto's size; lest the god makes his own path through buildings.       Whilst we in The Conjoined Kingdom have become accustomed to the presence of Thvalto, I am often reminded of the strangeness of our situation by travelers from afar who have found themselves in the inner cities. Terror is the most common reaction, though there are the unfortunate few who react with aggression, which does not often end well for the newcomers. On that note, there have been several attacks against our god in recent years. A disturbing trend as foolish foreigners hoping for glory or disillusioned revolutionaries plot the death of the divine protector of Horizon. None have succeeded in harming Dread Thvalto. Unfortunately, we have not often had the chance to interrogate the criminals as the dead do not speak.       Our god was first named by our previously Mavanish ancestors who'd split from their nation and fled into the swamps; stumbling upon a large 'swamp beast' on their journey. Over the next few years, the mavanish words for 'swamp beast' were warped into the name 'Thvalto'. His epithet -Dread- came not from our ancestors telling each other to fear Thvalto, but a common warning that was given to enemies that became packaged into the name itself.