That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die! The new priest spoke. No one like him to take over the fallen priesthood.
Might the great lord of madness save you from eternal life in pain of conscience. There is no freedom like the freedom of non-awareness. The green God sent him here to gather his children. The great sages will watch the sea, waiting for his gift to me.
His voice was booming, his presence intimidating, his appearance immortal, his demeanor mad. In madness you all dwell, the only clarity is through our Lord.
He holds a scepter of sea-green, possibly done out of an underwater stone. Moss covers his robes, moss covers his hair and moss covers his hands. He looks healthier than ever. So much sea helps the spirit.
He is rising, he is immortal. In madness, you'll dwell, unless you take his guidance over. His voice booms, and not even the sorrow shades of the island can overcome its might.