"Over ashen mountains the village fisherman looks at the gleaming gold peaked towers of the grand cathedral as he feels his net filling. He silently thanks the high bishop and Dagon for all that they've done for them He comes home to the smell of fish stew and mold. His wife cradles a pale newborn that was graced with then fingers and ten toes, all interconnected by a film of skin. They hold hands and silently pray for the prosperity of the great city... ...and Dagon"