"Thank you Vortimax. I see your house has started to list, maybe I could help? I know how to build and I have time."
Need to regain my strength.
Toffitt also peruses Skie's shelves for an alchemically fortified brandy intended to enhance the drinker's spirits . "Skie, have you a dose of the Hero's Draught? Not to be mistaken for there Hero's Droopsy, which is a most unpleasant ailment found among the dwarves of Greyhawk."
"Thank you Vortimax. I see your house has started to list, maybe I could help? I know how to build and I have time."
"I don't know sonny. I've a lot of things in here that might break if you go poundin' on the pylons. 'Course, I guess if the whole thing falls over it'll all break. All right. See what you can do to shore it up, but I can't move out. No way I'll be able to remember where everything is if I move."
Dyrant smiles as he sees Finneas walk out of the Church under his own power.
Thank your angelic masters, Angel! You've done well, again.
"Praise be to St. Cuthbert! His mighty cudgel can beat people back to life!" Dyrant mutters under his breath.
At least we didn't completely fail him.
* * *
Dyrant will take the rest of the day to do some relaxing and scribery. He will relax at the house, occasionally looking and giggling at the painting he had commissioned over Finneas' festival 'victory'.
Dyrant will really try to enjoy this day 'off', as he feels that St. C and Angel have more work for him soon. In his idle moments, he will plan his sermonistic activities for the morrow.
So much work to do, so little time. However, now that we've saved the town, maybe we have time to save some souls.
Dyrant will jot down some new ideas for his sermons, working in the tortures and torments from the wand-finding expedition. Quill and ink in hand, Dyrant will sit in garden going over his words.
"Be not too proud to humble thyself to St. Cuthbert, lest of Undead Ogres of Pride and Petulance smite thee for thy petulance for even the mightiest warrior is naught but a pig on a stick without St. Cuthbert's Cudgel behind ye."
Dyrant writes that down.
Oooh, that's good.
A week passes uneventfully, but the party suspects that something more sinister awaits Cauldron than extortion. The party prepares for disaster, but also tries to continue with their normal lives.
Atol splits time between the church and his new home, but spends most of his days scribing and crafting.
Dyrant finds that a small regular group now attends his sermons regardless of whether or not Atol is there to assist by handing out food.
Finneas shores up Vortimax's home and receives his second restoration from Jenya to bring him back to full health.
Glimmil, um, eats and drinks and spends time with Skie
Toffitt spends some time with his patients and Carts
After the second restoration, Finneas goes back to his home. He cleans up and leaves his armor and weapons in his room, making his way to the chruch of Kord. Moving through the halls, he makes is way to his old cell. Staring into it blindly, he stands for almost an hour. Making his way back into the rain, he sits by the edge of the practice sands, watching the water make it's way across the arena.
After a time, he will make is way to Father Asfelkir.
"I don't understand how to fight my weakness Father. I have failed three times this week, and the last cost me my life."
Toffitt spends some of his remaining gold on medical supplies, and begins offering a limited amount of cost-free treatment to the city's poor. He keeps record of the various illnesses that plague the city, keeping an especially watchful eye out for the diseases that accompany floods.
He asks the group, "My fellows, I wonder if I might use one of our house's rooms to consult with patients one or two days a week. There is so much need, and I fear that the floods will have contributed to a spike in ill humours. You would be welcome to help in those efforts, of course. Although I am afraid cudgeling is not a treatment I can approve for patients that we share."
He spends another one hundred crowns on Carts, ostensibly paying him to assist with Toffitt's growing medical practice. He'll require some training, but he does know how to sweet talk the patients... Bed side manner indeed. Hm. Perhaps I could find a barber to help teach him the trade...
Atol splits time between the church and his new home, but spends most of his days scribing and crafting.
Atol will make a point of saying hello whenever he sees her, but he does not go out of his way - and does not visit her home. He is trying (failing?) to respect her space and wishes though it saddens him.
Dyrant finds that a small regular group now attends his sermons regardless of whether or not Atol is there to assist by handing out food.
Atol helps Dyrant when he remembers though his week is busy. He often forgets unless Dyrant reminds him. He wants to help, but there is so much going on!
"My fellows, I wonder if I might use one of our house's rooms to consult with patients one or two days a week. There is so much need, and I fear that the floods will have contributed to a spike in ill humours. You would be welcome to help in those efforts, of course. Although I am afraid cudgeling is not a treatment I can approve for patients that we share."
"I'd be happy to help Doctor, but there is not much I can do I'm afraid. Dyrant's skills at healing rival my own, though I hope to learn from him in time. Also, Cudgelling is not required of every sermon, but a sermon they should receive while they're here, yes? Spiritual aid as well as physical should be part of what we do. Again though, Dyrant is my superior with those skills."
I need to work with Dyrant more. I must remember to attend his sermons!
Toffitt politely listens and smiles as Atol suggests procelytizing to his patients.
"No doubt there is a benefit to healing both the spirit and the body, my friend. However, I am afraid many of my patients would forego medical care if we only provided for one faith tradition. St. Cuthbert certainly guards many souls in this city, but many have given their hearts to other gods, worthy or not. I would not see them go untreated, just because they shrink away from one or the other god's teachings. Surely we do not wish to impose the teachings of Cuthbert or Kord on those who are devoted to Myhriss or Pelor." Not to mention Olidammara, who has the ear of most of my patients...
Toffitt politely listens and smiles as Atol suggests procelytizing to his patients.
"No doubt there is a benefit to healing both the spirit and the body, my friend. However, I am afraid many of my patients would forego medical care if we only provided for one faith tradition. St. Cuthbert certainly guards many souls in this city, but many have given their hearts to other gods, worthy or not. I would not see them go untreated, just because they shrink away from one or the other god's teachings. Surely we do not wish to impose the teachings of Cuthbert or Kord on those who are devoted to Myhriss or Pelor." Not to mention Olidammara, who has the ear of most of my patients...
Atol frowns.
"So you'd want to use our house and our help, but not our speech? I'm not saying they have to believe to be healed, merely that they should listen. It won't be much, but there should be something. I'm more than happy to listen to Kord or Myhriss or Peylor too if they're helping me. It doesn't mean I'm going to drop Cuthbert and run to them."
"It's just being polite. Not a big deal, just a few words as we minister to their injury. No cudgelling required. See? I'm meeting you half way."
Atol grins hopefully.
"We could even bring in others to talk if you liked - from those other gods. They could aid in the healing as well. We could become a multi-denom...er, nation... lots of religions could join together and help. Think of all the good we could do for the city!"
"I don't understand how to fight my weakness Father. I have failed three times this week, and the last cost me my life."
Father Asfelkir considers the young warrior before him. "You are haunted by many things and the worst of them is doubt. I cannot tell you what to do. I cannot swing your sword. I cannot bleed for you. Our lord respects strength, but not just that in your sword arm. It is not that you lose; it is how you lose."
Toffitt's smile turns a bit waxen as Atol speaks. He breaths and relaxes. Remember that he is a good man, Abner.
"I can see that you are offering compromise, and appreciate your effort. I do think it would be a fine idea to explore a partnership between the different churches. Though I expect it would take some doing to establish such a collaboration. No doubt it will take time to build. Perhaps you would be willing to help reach out to the various churches?"
"In the meantime, my concern is this—many of our less fortunate citizens actually avoid the temples of Cuthbert, Pelor, and even Kord and Myhriss. Whether they are caught up in illicit business or actively worship the grey gods, I believe that they deserve healing.
Toffitt swallows, afraid to anger his very pleasantly zealous friend. "I am afraid they would shrink away from care if they knew that it came with a sermon. I do not mean to offend you—I bear no grudge against your church. I am merely stating my sense of the reality."
"Perhaps if we made it clear that your spiritual teaching was available upon request, but not at all mandatory...? Surely, er, optional pastoral care would be very beneficial."
Your style of preaching would probably be better received than our dour friend's, in any case...
Day 1 (the return of Finneas): Described above.
Day 2: Dyrant's day and afternoon are spent selling the party's goods from their latest adventure, but also stocking up on supplies for his scribing and sermonizing.
While at Skie's, he will check on the status of his sekrit order. [-750 gp]
In the evening, Dyrant will recommence his evening sermonizing, taking the message of St. Cuthbert to all the back areas of Cauldron, preaching and sermonizing as he was intended to do, Angel willing.
Day 3: In the morning and evening, Dyrant will finally sit down with that halfling's spellbook and begin to explore the arcane mysteries therein.
Dyrant will take some notes in his journal and spend some time muttering to Angel about the mysteries involved, hoping that the angelic insight from his friend will open up additional areas of understanding.
In the evening, Dyrant will recommence his evening sermonizing, taking the message of St. Cuthbert to all the back areas of Cauldron, preaching and sermonizing as he was intended to do, Angel willing.
"...Surely, er, optional pastoral care would be very beneficial."
Yay! My own flock!!
Hearing what he wanted to hear, Atol rushes off to find Dyrant. Breathless, he finds him...
"Dyrant! Dyrant! Over here!" He waves and rushes up to him.
"I'm to sermonize to the sick of Cauldron! I have my own willing listeners!"
Atols grin is barely contained by his broad face.
"I need some help though. I've never given a sermon before. Could you help me write one?! You helped me learn to write scrolls and that's been wonderful, but this will be even better!"
Somewhere else in Cauldron, Toffitt facepalms.
About a week after their return, the party notices something different about Skie's. Among the dozens of runes on the stonework is a new one for the Cauldron Five. It's larger than the others and is placed just to the right of the front door where it's impossible to miss. A rune of an erupting volcano as large as Glimmil's shield has five bursts of glowing red and burning white lava shooting skyward. It's particularly spectacular at night and doubles as a light for the front of the business.
Glimmil spends his time visiting all of Cauldron's gnomish population, spreading the tales of the heroic deeds of do-derring that he and the others of the Cauldron Five have perpetuated as of late, being sure to embellish every detail.
When he can, he checks in on Skie, innocently claiming he was wondering she had something magical to help him with his pants (and being mostly oblivious to anything else that might mean). He swoons and blushes as she chats with him, and shares a fine meal with her (if she accepts). While there, he babbles about his adventures, then realizes he's babbling and sits quietly while Skie recounts something about her past.
Glimmil then spends his time in Haunted Jzadirune, working with the other gnomes and trying to get them to put on performances for the entirety of Cauldron's population. He is specifically interested in finding a writer to take down all the stories of the heroics of the Cauldron Five and adapt them for the stage. Glimmil becomes especially infatuated with the props that could be used for a giant dinosaur that his fictional counterpart would do battle with, and then wonders if anyone in Cauldron could play Dyrant's part other than the man himself.
If Ellywinkle happens to be in attendance at Jzadirune while Skie is working, Glimmil likely continues to accidentally flirt with the gnomess, believing he's just behaving friendly in sharing tales of heroic deeds.
Dyrant takes in Atol's enthusiasm with all the good humor he can muster.
"Now, taking on a flock is no easy matter, Atol. It is difficult work...and requires much patience and care. But it's a good step for you, Atol. I'm sure you'll do it well."
He has a flock?! I guess geese and ducks do count...and if he imprints correctly with the gooselings, they will follow him as he flies south for the winter.
Dyrant smiles at an internal joke.
Dyrant nods gravely as Atol mentions the sermon, which is something that Dyrant has spent much time thinking about recently.
"Ah, the sermons, Atol! The sermons are so important! What will our flocks do and think if we do not tell them? How will they avoid evil if they do not know how to judge people immediately? How can they pray for the salvation of sinners without being told how to hold others in judgment?! Tis good that you are thinking about such things, Atol."
Dyrant ponders his own recent sermons.
"Atol, sermons must come from inside...from what you know is wrong or right. It is your job to find that kernel of judgment and expand upon it for your flock, Atol. You must tell them how to avoid sin and point it out so they can hate it as well. Now, tell me, Atol, what sin have you seen recently that would serve as your puppet to burn in effigy? Think, Atol, think!"
Dyrant waits for Atol to answer.
...kernel...
...expand...
...burn...
Atol thinks hard about the last few days.
"Barthos took two cornbread rolls at lunch when I was at the church yesterday. I wouldn't burn him for it, but they were warm rolls. Could there be a sermon about taking more than your due?"
Atol thinks some more.
"Of course there were plenty of rolls so it's not like it was a problem. But we are only supposed to take one. Still, it's the idea right? Not the actual sin, it's just a story to get attention, right? Lots of folks get hungry. They were good rolls."
"I don't know. Maybe I should pick something else. I almost took a second roll myself! ...and it's not like it's all that bad to take a second roll."
"Do I really have to hate? I don't hate very much. Even Triel. She was very bad in taking the wands, but she has a very nice name. Triel Eldurast. I could talk about her stealing the wands. Still, I don't know why she did it. Is that important to the sermon? The why?"
Dyrant hears Atol's rambling with a stern eye and resists the urge to facepalm and instead drags his hand down his face in slow frustration.
"Atol, ATOL!" Dyrant tries to get the young priest's attention.
"The tenets of St. Cuthbert are quite clear. Let me remind you of them: 'obey the law, be good, and use common sense'. We must minister to and protect the faithful. We must arm them to protect themselves from the evil in their midst!"
Dyrant tries to focus the oaf on something other than food.
"Atol, taking a second offered roll is no sin, but can lead to sin. Now, Atol, what evils can we make sure your flock knows about, can identify, and serve as a vigilant ally in our efforts to protect them?"
"No stealing? That's against the law. Triel stole the wands."
Stealing is definitely bad. And taking a second roll is kind of like stealing too, but I don't think Dyrant wants to hear that.
Dyrant smiles.
"Yes, Atol, stealing is wrong. You should sermon about that, if you're sure of your zeal in protecting your flock from theft AND preventing them from committing the sin themselves."
Dyrant looks at Atol and down to his cudgel.
"Remember Atol, you must be strong in your belief that stealing is wrong and communicate it to your flock. Let's start there."
Dyrant gathers some paper, a quill, and some ink for Atol.
"Here you go, go begin to write your thoughts down. Make it sound like St. Cuthbert himself were delivering it. There you go now...focus on the sin, Atol..."
Finneas nods at Asfelkir's advice.
"I...I think I understand. It is ok to lose if something is stronger, as long as you don't give up?"
******************
"Glimmil, that is quite the symbol Skie gave us. Did you help her work out the design? It's very big. And erupting into so many sparks. It's very noticeable, well done."
******************
Finneas will seek out Dyrant at some point between gristle "stew" and teaching Atol to bludgeon non-believers.
"Dyrant, I have a...a question. Have you ever, I mean, you know, has it ever...have you ever lost faith in your cudgel, er, diety? Cuthbert?"
******************
Finneas sits in his room. His armor hangs on the stand, the sword scabbard empty. Across his lap the glowing blade reflects off his eyes as he looks at the etchings along the blade.
Female voice: You didn't think we were gone, did you?
Male voice: We will never leave you. Never.
He slowly runs his hand over the blade, his fingers less than an inch from the iron.
"Thanks Dyrant! Thank you."
Atol gathers up the parchment and ink and heads back to the house to do some writing.
On his way he sees the new symbol on Skie's door.
That's very pretty. We should do a symbol for ourselves. Something that shows the cauldron and the five of us. ...whir...
Oh WOW! That IS us! Skie is so very nice to do something like that.
He reaches out and touches it. Almost caresses it.
That is so very excellent.
He walks off with an extra spring in his step ready to write a GOOD sermon!
"Dyrant, I have a...a question. Have you ever, I mean, you know, has it ever...have you ever lost faith in your cudgel, er, diety? Cuthbert?"
Dyrant smiles defensively, but slowly recovers his composure.
"I have failed St. Cuthbert and his angel Angel more times than I can count...and still have the welts and bruises to show it. These welts here," Dyrant pulls up his shirt to show a history of purple distortions, "...help me to remember to always show faith in St. Cuthbert. Truly, my failures only when I begin to doubt in St. Cuthbert and his gifts to me and in nothing more."
Dyrant lowers his shirt.
"So, yes, Finneas, I know doubt. I know it as well as any man...and I feel it everyday. However, I begin to realize that it's not my faith in my deity that I doubt, but his faith in me, or, better said, my faith in myself. Tis a lesson that is hard to learn, to be sure. When you think about it, St. Cuthbert has never challenged me with something that he has not given me the gifts to handle. I serve in his name and with his gifts."
Dyrant looks at Finneas.
"Does that answer the question? Or help you understand?"
Finneas nods at Asfelkir's advice.
"I...I think I understand. It is ok to lose if something is stronger, as long as you don't give up?"
The older half orc relaxes his shoulders a bit and offers a small bit of compassion in his eyes. "You are beginning to understand."
"There is more to it though. Any child can not give up. Any desperate man can fight for his life. We are warriors of Kord, always. Every moment of every day. We are recognized as warriors whether we are on the battlefield or walking down the street. We greet the day unafraid of what lies ahead. We see any challenge as an opportunity to prove ourselves. We know who we are and the world knows it."
Day 4: Dyrant shuts the spellbook and rubs his eyes wearily. Speaking aloud to noone (Angel), Dyrant reflects on his recent learnings and study of the halfling's spellbook.
"Yes, Angel, indeed. There is much similarity between the magicks therein and the spellprayers that you teach me. It makes me wonder at the connection between divine will and arcane might. Are all arcane casters really divine servants at their core? And do they truly know which deities will they invoke when they evoke? Tis a mystery that needs following up upon, Angel, indeed."
Dyrant tilts his head as if listening to whispers of Angels.
"Of course, Angel. Only through service to him do we have any meanings in our lives. Without divine guidance, our actions have no meaning...we are lost actors without a scene, pointless motes of abandoned life."
Dyrant nods as if hearing more speaking.
"Again, you are right, Angel. You are right to give him praise. Let us see if we can work this idea into tonight's sermon."
Re-energized, Dyrant pulls out a new sheet of paper, quill, and ink and begins to craft a sermon on the meaninglessness of life without service to a higher power.
Maybe I should run this one by Dr. Toffitt to get this thoughts before delivering it tonight. If he reacts negatively, then I'm sure it's more than correct enough.
Toffitt visits Skie's a couple of days after Finneas' resurrection. He carries a scroll with an ample list of alchemical and healer's items.
He does a double-take when he sees the sign. Well! Let's hope our reputations earn her more customers, and not fewer. I suppose it depends on how the townsfolk take to Dyrant's hectoring...
He greets Skie as he enters, and spends a few minutes browsing her shelves, gathering his thoughts. Mustering himself, he greets her again. "Skie, I would like to thank you for all that you've done for my colleagues and I. Truly, your supplies have on several occasions saved us from certain death."
"Cauldron has faced many dangers of late, and I am afraid there are greater troubles to come. Opportunities for Glimmil and all of us to act the hero. But heroism is not my primary vocation. I came to Cauldron to tend the sick and injured, especially those who are unable or unwilling to avail themselves of temple healers."
"To that end, I have need of a number of alchemical and medical supplies. I mean to set up a full lab and consulting office. All of the essentials of a full alchemist's lab. Gauze. Leeches. You get the idea."
"But I also seek partners in this practice. If it grows, I will have need of a regular channel of supplies. I mean to provide a certain amount of care gratis. If you are interested, I would be honored to list you as a most generous contributor to this public clinic."
Toffitt makes a similar pitch to the other businesses that have benefited from the Cauldron Five's exploits: Tygot's, the Drunken Morkoth (all that stew!), Orak Stonehaven's bathhouse... He specifically avoids Vortimax, knowing that he would be going into competition with the fellow.
He then approaches some of his more respectable seeming clients—those madames' who maintain relatively respectable clientele. "You would be silent partners, but I would when necessary make it privately known what a generous service you are providing to Cauldron."
Finally, he approaches Carts, offering him a role in the business. "I will need an attendent. And you are very good at grooming. You'd make a fine barber."
Every mad scientist needs his renfield.
Day 5:
Dyrant stares at the necklace bead on his desk, bouncing the bauble back and forth in his hands. Angel's box lies nearby, its lid propped open.
"So, Angel, this bead holds tremendous power inside. Tell me again now to unlock it?"
Dyrant bends his head closer to the box as to more clearly hear Angel's explanation though it does not quite make sense yet.
Yet.
He walks off with an extra spring in his step ready to write a GOOD sermon!
Coryston limps up with her cane to the edge of the small group that has gathered to hear the wisdom of one who has seen the horrors beneath the city, faced death, and returned with Cuthbert's blessing.
"But I also seek partners in this practice. If it grows, I will have need of a regular channel of supplies. I mean to provide a certain amount of care gratis. If you are interested, I would be honored to list you as a most generous contributor to this public clinic."
"Providing you the items you seek will not be a problem and I don't think you will compete with anyone for business. The faithful go to their churches. Adventurers earn enough coin to pay their own way. I wish you good luck and would be happy to contribute a small amount to your endeavor."
Skie retrieves a sack of coins (100 gp) and gives them to Toffitt.
"Thank you Dyrant. I understand now."
Finneas stands with a new light in his eyes and gets back to work.
"...and that was theft, and she was wrong to do so. Why was she wrong you ask? Well, I'll tell you."
Coryston limps up with her cane to the edge of the small group that has gathered to hear the wisdom of one who has seen the horrors beneath the city, faced death, and returned with Cuthbert's blessing.
Atol turns a deep shade of crimson and stammers a moment, but continues on trying to please Coryston and his God though it's hard now to know which is more important at the moment.
"uh, er. When you take something from someone, they are hurt. And hurting people is bad. It, uh, hurts."
Atol picks someone from the crowd who's already nodding, but hopefully not nodding off.
"You sir, you don't like being hurt do you? So pretend you are doing it to someone else. That hurts them - and so it should hurt you. In the church of St. Cuthbert, when we fail, we are cudgeled." He holds his cudgel high.
"And, and that's a good thing. We are cudgeled so that we might know the hurt we inflict on others. It is a reminder to us of what the other person felt. They feel hurt, so I feel hurt because I caused their hurt. It levels the scales and makes us even."
"There is nothing so rewarding as to be free of the pain of my hurt! My pain is released and I am whole again with the strength to go out and do my job, help others."
He checks his notes.
"er, so don't hurt others by stealing. OK? It hurts them and it hurts you. Remove the pain by being good to your fellow citizens and follow the law. No one wants to be hurt."
While there, he babbles about his adventures, then realizes he's babbling and sits quietly while Skie recounts something about her past.
Skie listens intently to Glimmil's stories. She clearly can tell they are embellished but lives vicariously through them anyway. The story of the second battle at the winch & cage especially captures her attention. Finneas’s genius. Tightrope walking by Toffitt. Dyrant floating. A Celestial Battle Auroch. Glimmil and Cog trapped helpless in the cage until the end. A few tears escape as she loses herself in the story.
"Snuffles would always help me out in situations like that. His claws were already vicious enough, but then I'd add a shocking grasp and he'd scurry up the wire, fence, rock face, or other obstacle. He was the bravest. I'll never know another familiar like him."
Day 6 & 7:
Dyrant slumps at his desk, dreading the next piece of research to pass the day until he can continue his nightly sermonizing.
Dyrant lifts the books recovered from the halfling's/(?)Sepia Sigil room.
During the first hour, Dyrant will catalog the books by topic and size and likelihood to be interesting, browsing each for insight and interest.
For the remaining two days (longer if necessary), Dyrant will read and learn what he can from the books.
Dyrant holds the first book up and reads the title aloud.
"Wizards and Sorcerers. Seekers of knowledge or conduits of the arcane?, by Zurisatro "Zees" Mandurkin." Dyrant stares at the book for a moment. "I'll read this one last. Not likely to be much intelligent meat therein."
What a bunch of claptrap this is likely to be.
Dyrant debates just throwing the book in the fire, but instead just puts it aside.
Finneas wanders into the study, unaware of his interruption.
"Dyrant, we're all out of that last book I got, do you have another in...oh, here are some. Are you going to use all of these? It's that stew isn't it? I'm not sure what they put in that stuff Dyrant but you shouldn't eat so much of it."
Looking through the titles, Finneas picks up a particularly hefty book.
"The Mating Habits of Gnomes and Volls, what's that? Hmm, I like picture books but do you think these colors will run?"
Dyrant pauses from his study to answer Finn, grateful for the interruption.
"Yes, that gnome and volls book will work fine. If you wanted a lighter book that you could carry with you," Dyrant reaches under a stack of books for a very very thin book and hands it to Finn, "..try this one: Great Alchemist Elves in History. It's nearly blank."
"Oh, the blank one would work too. Didn't I see one called Your Guisarme and You, an Idiots Guide to Polearms? Is there anything in there I need to know?"
"Oh Finneas, you're way too humble to use a guisarme...it's a snob's equivalent to a glaive. Yeah, not much in there for you...but one more might be of interest." Dyrant rises from his desk and walks over to the chamberpot and book resting nearby.
"There are a few pages torn out, but did you want to read The Stormblades: the Early Years? If not, I'll continue to use it as is."
"er, so don't hurt others by stealing. OK? It hurts them and it hurts you. Remove the pain by being good to your fellow citizens and follow the law. No one wants to be hurt."
Coryston echoes Atol. "No. No one wants to be hurt."
She stands and smiles at Atol before limping off.
Some of the titles/topics in the library:
- Vampires. Why do they gain life from drinking blood, but I only throw up?
- Dinosaurs. Native inhabitants or invaders from a portal through time?
- Demons and devils. Bridging the gap between chaos and law.
- Proper techniques for slave obedience.
- Torture for fun and profit.
- Mithral, starmetal, adamantine, and the construction of artifacts.
- Dimensional portals. A traveler's guide.
Coryston echoes Atol. "No. No one wants to be hurt."
She stands and smiles at Atol before limping off.
Atol beams with pride and steps down off his soapbox. He considers chasing after her, but decides against it.
She seems to want her space. Sigh...
Content that his sermonizing was a success, he rushes around for the balance of the day telling everyone. He runs and tells Dyrant that he gave a sermon that people listened to and even gave responses to!
He rushes and informs Dr. Toffitt that he's ready to help his injured and he'll keep the sermonizing light and friendly. To that end, he memorizes two Lesser Restorations (in place of Hold Person and Sound Burst) and one Cure Disease (in place of Invisibility Purge) for the next while to help with the more severe cases. He'll convert first level spells to Cure Light Wounds as needed - and long for the preachers ability to cure everyone with a mere touch!
He even, though his voice is cracking by the end of his tale, rushes off to tell his brother Alexander Lem at the church about his success.
"I still don't know if I'm cut out for my own flock, or if I should keep on adventuring. I think if I take a flock, I could do sermons and Coryston would certainly prefer it. But I'm so good at adventuring! I mean sure, I died, but I've made that mistake so I should be fine from here on out - right? I won't make that mistake again surely."
He spends the rest of his week split between working at the church, working on his garden, helping Dr. Toffitt with his sicknesses and helping Dyrant preach the word... A busy week!
"Snuffles would always help me out in situations like that. His claws were already vicious enough, but then I'd add a shocking grasp and he'd scurry up the wire, fence, rock face, or other obstacle. He was the bravest. I'll never know another familiar like him."
Glimmil nods solemnly while Skie recounts the exploits of brave, brave Snuffles.
"He sounds truly courageous to put himself in danger!" Glimmil sighs, while thinking fondly of Cog.
"Aren't they the best? Animal friends? Maybe you should get a new one -- y'know to keep you company when I'm off doing heroic do-derrings." Glimmil smiles.
"Er, excellent, Atol! Say, would you care to practice your sermons with me? I'd love a sample of the fine spiritual healing you have in store for them..." So I can provide a few prophylactic words of my own beforehand...
"It will take a few days to set up the office, though. Hrm. It really could use some finer decor."
Toffitt makes a point to ask the bouncer at Carts' burlesque — some dwarvish wrestling champion from Greyhawk with a whiskey habit — for help sprucing up the shop. You wouldn't think it, but she's built some pretty nice sets for their shows. I especially loved the cloudscape from "The Flight of the Faerie Dragons"...
Dyrant stirs his drink as he waits for his dinner guest to show up.
Shall I wait until my parishioner arrives before I order my gristle-noodle stew? Hmm...I wonder if Atol and Dr. Toffitt are enjoying their ratburgers or snout-sausage platters tonight. I heard them discussing their dinner plans.
Dyrant orders more watery green tea as he awaits his guest.
Dyrant mops the leftover gristle juice from his chin and thanks his parishioner friend for the company over the meal.
Dyrant pays the tab and leaves, ready to begin his evening sermons.
Tonight is going to be a good night. Tonight my sermon will serve to protect the weak and inspire the vigilant.
A week passes as the party settles into some normal routines. Everyone collects their magic weapons from Vortimax while Dyrant finishes a good portion of the library between his sermons. Atol's sermons improve--a little--and Coryston continues her attendance. Glimmil finds a writer to complete the first play about the Cauldron Five and resigns himself to the fact that the stage at Jzadirune is only so big and will not accomodate a full size t-rex. Word of Toffitt's clinic quickly spreads and he finds himself with more than enough patients to keep him busy as much as he desires.
The party takes a break from their busy lives for a lunch at the Slippery Eel to catch up with each other. Perhaps they debate whether or not they are needed still or what their next adventure should be. The tension between normal lives and contirbuting to the community versus heart-pounding (or heart stopping) adventure hangs in the air.
When Dyrant has finished cleaning his--and any other unattended bowl--the party exits the tavern. Everyone is still talking, but Toffitt notices a low rumble.
Perception
Atol
Cog
Dyrant
Finneas
Glimmil
Toffitt
Initiative
Atol
Dyrant
Finneas
Finneas Bonus roll
Glimmil
Toffitt
Rumble
map spots
Init
Dyrant = 28
Finneas = 24
Glimmil = 23
Atol = 19
Toffitt = 10
Rumble = 2