Ladies and gentlemen. Pull up a chair.
There once was an irascible metal head Texan who hated Led Zeppelin.
He was a particular fan of molasses cookies, your mom, and licking his eyebrows.
He also had a stupid man-crush on an actor whose name escapes me. Either way, he led a cult centered on his deity who was named Bernthal. Bernthal was an impotent god who didn’t do anything more than like and distribute molasses cookies, but his followers were many.
The temple of Bernthal used to be a central point of the RP scene of this place.
He tragically was met with an untimely demise and was forever sequestered in the outside world.
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I still use or make reference to it occasionally as a nod to what came before. I was squatting in the crypts a bit back but then I got upgraded to a basement workshop with a table to sleep under instead of a stone sarcophagus.