"No complaints 'bout you watchin' my back, Lem. But try to keep that tale free of sermons, might disrupt my concentration with holy fervor." The thief returns to fixing the lock.
I will hold off beginning the next scene until Lem and Raj have had their chat.
The rest of you, feel free to talk amongst yourselves, chat to Kendra (she is not going back to sleep), or do whatever it is you feel like doing. It's currently 4:30am. I'll have you out a-visiting (unless you have better ideas on timing) at 8:30.
I'll come back to the Spellcraft and Knowledge (religion) rolls in a bit--probably around half an hour.
Lem, I'll also have a chance then to address your questions about Pharasma and sacred numbers.
Lem chuckles at Raj's jest and waits patiently, studying him fiddling with the lock without getting in the way or talking. When they are ready to leave and there are no immediate threats present, Lem will unload his crossbow, stow the bolt, and swing the crossbow over his shoulder. He begins talking as they start the trek back to the Lorrimor residence.
Well done as usual, Raj. May I call you Raj?
After Rajuna's reply, he continues:
I wanted to speak with you because I'm not sure you see the great gift that you have. You are skilled with devices and, no doubt, weapons, but you have a far greater blessing upon you--you are a true leader.
Though we have only known each other for a short while, I can see the effect that you have upon the others. You and I, I think, are alike in that people who see us assume they know everything there is to know after one glance. Most change their mind about me eventually, but it takes a fair bit of conversation. You, however, gain their respect without having to say a word.
Unless Raj interrupts, he will continue with:
I can see that you have had a lot of struggles in your life as well. Perhaps you can't see it, but I understand what that's like. You seem at a crossroads at this moment, and if you'd permit me, I would like to offer you guidance. Will it offend you if I ask what gods you keep?
Karrik takes a break from helping obscure their presence in the crypt to help Rose and Kendra identify the remaining items.
The Type B arrows are +1 ghost touch arrows.
The vials seem to be designed to capture negative energy somehow--you simply open the stopper at the top and the vial will act as a vortex. Precisely what kind of negative energy it's meant for you can't say unless you (or someone else) makes a DC 15 Knowledge (religion) check.
The brass object is a spirit planchette (see below).
Spirit Planchette
A spirit planchette is typically found in a wooden case along with a thin wooden board printed with numerous letters and numbers. Nonmagical versions of these divination tools can be purchased in curiosity shops (typically costing 25 gp); while these items can be used as alternative components for augury spells, only magical spirit planchettes allow users to communicate with the other side. Three types of spirit planchettes exist—brass, cold iron, and silver. Each in turn allows an increasingly potent form of divination effect to be utilized. A spirit planchette requires a board to move upon, but this “board” can be made up of letters scribed upon any smooth surface—it need not be a prepared board for a spirit planchette to work.
To use a spirit planchette, you must rest your fingers lightly upon the planchette’s surface and then concentrate on the planchette (as if maintaining a spell with a duration of concentration) for 2d6 rounds while the planchette attunes itself to the ambient spirits of the area. After this time, the planchette begins to slowly slide in random patterns across the board—at this point, questions may be asked of the spirits by any of the individuals involved in the séance. The consequences of each question asked of the spirits depends upon what type of planchette is used for the divination, as summarized on the table below. The spirits reply in a language understood by the character who asked the question, but resent such contact and give only brief answers to the questions. All questions are answered with “yes,” “no,” or “maybe,” or by spelling out a single word from the letters arranged on the board. The spirits answer each question either in the same round the question is asked (in the case of a yes, no, or maybe answer) or at a rate of one letter per round (in the case of a single word being spelled out). A spirit planchette may be used once per day—the maximum number of questions you can ask with it depends on the type of planchette being used (as detailed on the table below).
Communication with spirits can be a dangerous task, for many spirits are jealous or hateful of the living. Every time a spirit planchette is used, the user must succeed on a Will save to avoid being temporarily possessed and harmed by the angry spirits. In some areas where the spirits are particularly violent or hateful, this Will save takes a –2 penalty. The DC of this save depends on the type of spirit planchette being used. Anyone who fails the Will save becomes confused for a number of rounds (depending on the type of planchette being used), and no answer is received. The spirits in the area are not omniscient—the GM should decide whether or not the spirits would actually know the answer to the question asked, and if they do not, the answer granted is automatically “maybe.” If the GM determines that the spirits are knowledgeable about the answer, roll d% to determine whether the spirits speak truthfully or whether they lie.
TABLE INFO
Planchette Type, Questions per Use, Will Save DC, Confusion Duration, True Answer, Lie
Brass, 1 question, DC 11 Will save, 1 round confusion, 01-60 Truth, 61-100 Lie
Cold Iron, 3 questions, DC 15 Will save, 2 rounds confusion, 01-75 Truth, 76-100 Lie
Silver, 5 questions, DC 19 Will save, 3 rounds confusion, 01-90 Truth, 91-100 Lie
Lem, you make a good point--I hadn't considered using those checks for this purpose, but they will do just fine. : )
You believe these vials depict haunts, vengeful spirits tied to the Material Plane that act like traps.
Between you, you and Karrik are able to work out how the vials work.
Haunt Siphons
To capture a haunt’s energies within a haunt siphon, you need only twist the metal casing to open the vial in the same round that the haunt manifests (a standard action)—this can be before or after the haunt has acted. You must be within the haunt’s area of influence to use a haunt siphon. When you activate a haunt siphon, it deals 3d6 points of positive energy damage to a single haunt. If it deals enough damage to the haunt to reduce the haunt’s hit points to 0, the mist inside the haunt siphon glows green—if it does not reduce the haunt to 0 hit points, the haunt siphon is still expended and becomes nonmagical. It may take multiple haunt siphons to destroy powerful haunts. A haunt that is neutralized by a haunt siphon takes a –5 penalty on its caster level check to manifest again after its reset time passes.
A haunt siphon that neutralizes a haunt can no longer be used to harm haunts, but it can be used as a grenadelike splash weapon that deals 1d6 points of negative energy damage with a direct hit. Every creature within 5 feet of the point where the haunt siphon hits takes 1 point of negative energy damage from the splash.
As the light sprang back into view, Lem looked at the statues and then at Walter standing near the stone book.
He is young, unsure of himself, but so knowledgeable about lore. He is everything I am not. The holy man looked back and forth between the two incarnations of Pharasma. Is that why the professor chose us? To compensate for each other's weaknesses?
He looked around at his companions, pairing them up in his head as he became lost in thought.
Dragomir and Rose, our skilled warriors. The one so rash, passionate, guileless. The second guarded, untouchable, having seen much and more.
Karrik and Flori, the arcanists. Both half-orcs, but that's all that have in common. Karrik is logical, methodical, educated, and cynical. Flori is world-wise and wears her heart on her sleeve.
Rajuna and Theron, the "problem solvers". Rajuna the mysterious loner. Theron the church's divine instrument here in the mortal realm.
Finally, he looks at Kendra.
And of course, the Lorrimor's--Petros deceased, Kendra alive and grieving. What was the professor's plan in all this?
Lem thinks about what he's learned about Pharasma and tries to recall if the numbers 8, 9, or 10 have any significance in the teachings of the church.
1d20+5
Their belief is that by assigning each letter in the Garundi alphabet a number, and applying that to The Bones Land in a Spiral (which was originally written in Garundi), an underlying message or pattern can be discerned in the words that indicates the direct will of Pharasma.
Pharasma has been silent on the matter--which means either the Amazwarrin are right, or they're crazy, depending on who you talk to. The fact that the sect remains relatively unknown is cited as evidence by both sides of the argument.
That being said, the Amazwarrin hold 'eight' to be the sacred number of Pharasma, as it is representative of the infinite knowledge which she has at her command (it's the infinity symbol rotated 90º). The number nine is therefore held to be equally sacred, as only Pharasma is capable of fully understanding the concept of 'infinity plus one'.
"Well done as usual, Raj. May I call you Raj?"
Rajuna nods cautiously, wondering what the pint-sized priest is driving toward and why he wanted to speak privately.
"I wanted to speak with you because I'm not sure you see the great gift that you have. You are skilled with devices and, no doubt, weapons, but you have a far greater blessing upon you--you are a true leader."
Raj hides a chuckle behind a wry smile and motions for the little man to continue. He clearly finds the idea of 'Raj the leader' humorous.
"Though we have only known each other for a short while, I can see the effect that you have upon the others. You and I, I think, are alike in that people who see us assume they know everything there is to know after one glance. Most change their mind about me eventually, but it takes a fair bit of conversation. You, however, gain their respect without having to say a word."
Raj shrugs and answers seriously, "I'm just doing the job, Lem. If that gets me respected, that's fine. You seem good folks so I don't mind you seein' what I can do. But, in most other circumstances, I'm starin' at the other side of that coin. I want folks to dismiss me or take me at face value - being underestimated is maybe my best weapon."
"I can see that you have had a lot of struggles in your life as well. Perhaps you can't see it, but I understand what that's like. You seem at a crossroads at this moment, and if you'd permit me, I would like to offer you guidance. Will it offend you if I ask what gods you keep?"
A surprised eyebrow shoots up and Raj lightens his tone. "Do I mind you askin'? No. With all that butter you was spreadin', I figured you were fixin' to ask me out to dinner, though!" He laughs briefly and considers his answer. "As for the Gods... well, lemme put it this way, the Gods is like house-cats. You don't keep them so much as they keep you if they're of a mind to." He looks at his shirt, brushes it briefly and shows his clean hand to Lem, "You don't see any fur there, eh? Looks like my house is cat-free - until some cat claims me - and not the other way around."
The halfling listens intently to Rajuna and is far too trusting to doubt the earnestness of his claims.
I thought as much. With your past, and all of the horrors we will no doubt face as we explore Harrowstone and battle the Whispering Way, I wanted to let you know that you have more options to seek help from other than Pharasma. The Lady of Graves is powerful, and is well-suited to serve the people here. But too often her followers are concerned with how their life will end, and the rewards granted after, than the road they take to get to that end. We all march to Pharasma's embrace, some at a crawl, some at a sprint. But along the way, Desna watches, unblinking. And while Gorum will accept you if you die heroically in battle, Desna will see when you share your meal with a weary traveler, or lift someone's spirits with news from home.
He takes a breath and looks Rajuna straight in the eye, all sense of merriment gone as he speaks with seriousness:
If you lead, people will follow. Everyone wants to be a hero and have songs sung about them, but the true heroes of the world are the people who sing the songs WITH you as you share your fire, food, and company. Don't walk the road alone, Rajuna. At the end of our journey we must face our judgment by ourselves, but if we benefit the lives of others, even in some small way, we will never be forgotten, by gods or men.
The halfling then relaxes and his smile returns, as he looks up at the much bigger man.
Well, I didn't say I wouldn't have that sermon on the way back, now did I? If you're feeling full of holy fervor, though, let me know right away--I think I have a spell for that.
He chuckles to himself and picks up speed toward home, his pace untiring and far quicker than a middle-aged halfing's should be.
Raj stretches his gate to match the halfling's furiously churning legs as he chews on what Lem said. He admires the pluck and unflaggable faith of the small cleric. Raj considers his 'house-cat', Iomedae, against Lem's.
I bet Desna would be a lot more forgiving of what I've done and what I'm going to keep on doin'. As deities go, she ain't bad. And luck is a great tool in any thief's arsenal. Too bad I've already been claimed by a cat with more hisses than purrs in her... at least for my sort.
Raj claps Lem on the shoulder with a smile, "Well, friend, if ever Desna comes rubbin' up against m'leg and purrin' - you'll be the first to know. Then you can sermonize me all you like."
He walks a little further before completing his thoughts, "The problem with heroes, Lem, is they die gloriously. I'm too fond of my skin for that. I'll take being alive over being remembered nearly every day of the week... As for being a leader, that's a dangerous business. Kick in a snake's only head and it dies. But if yur a hydra, one head - more or less - don't matter. We've got a lot of skilled folks here, lots of heads, as can take or give orders as needed. Seems to me we have the makings of a hydra."
Yes, many are those who lust for a memorable death and a song about their exploits. Tell me, what is of more use to the world--stamping out an immediate threat and dying in the process, or staying alive in this world and many times giving people the hope and courage to stand up for THEMSELVES and not fear death?
But there I go, preaching again. So you can see I might be a bit too fond of my own voice, but in my line of work it's not too much of a detriment. You, though, oh 'mysterious stranger', have tipped your hand about yourself just now. All this talk of cats and snakes, who'd have thought you were an animal lover? Perhaps I should introduce you to Cloverleaf some time. She can be stubborn and slow to befriend someone, but she is loyal and friendly once you get to know her. Perhaps like someone I know?
He smiles again to show he is only kidding. As to your thoughts on our hydra--does a hydra have 8 heads? Your words hold more weight than you know...
He says no more and looks to the stars, lost in thought as they travel, the light spell on his holy symbol illuminating the path in front of them.
"She can be stubborn and slow to befriend someone, but she is loyal and friendly once you get to know her. Perhaps like someone I know?"
Rajuna decides to miss his point with a sly grin. "That is no way to talk about Karrik."
Lem starts as though he is about to respond, but he can't contain his own laughter long enough to finish a sentence. After a while he looks around at the darkness and stifles his laughter, a sheepish look on his face like a child caught in some act of mischief by his parents. Sorry, I don't want to bring the town watch down upon us. Heh, Karrik, well said friend.
The remainder of the night passes by, with each of you going about your business. Dragomir looks after his equipment, Rajuna and Theron talk about how to apportion the items found in the crypt, and Kendra stays up in her room.
By the time the sun has risen far enough for it to be called 'morning', everyone gathers downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.
When Kendra appears, it's in her nightwear again. She looks tired. She has two scrolls in her hand.
Here, she says, stifling a yawn behind her hand as she places the scrolls on the table. I've written a scroll of detect undead and a scroll of anticipate peril. Do what you will with them--transcribe them, use them, whichever is appropriate. Just because the worst thing we ran into last night was vermin doesn't mean that will always be the case.
She hugs her nightgown around her and then moves to put a kettle on the wood-burning stove in the corner. Pharasma's blessings on whoever got this fire going, she says as she busies herself making a cup of tea.
Talk over breakfast ranges back and forth, but eventually it's decided that a visit to the Temple is probably best--especially if you want to catch Father Grimburrow before he gets busy.
When everyone is fed and watered, it's just after 8:00 when you all troop across town to the Temple. The weather is overcast but it doesn't seem to be threatening rain, which is a relief after yesterday's downpour--the ground is still sticky in many places.
A burbling noise comes from the town square on the other side of the creek as traders begin to set up for the day, and the townsfolk go about their business. On the west bank, where the Temple is, things are much quieter--you only see the occasional person out the front of their house before you make it to the Temple.
As you approach, you can hear raised voices from inside. You head through the open front doors...
...how important this is. Sheriff Caeller is talking loudly to Father Grimburrow. The Sheriff's deputies aren't apparent, but there are a number of acolytes--although you don't see Iona--who are moving around and pretending (badly) not to eavesdrop. The Sheriff seems frustrated. Father Grimburrow appears serene. They are both down the far end of the nave, near the altar, but the building's excellent acoustics transmit their conversation to you clearly.
This is a critical investigation, the Sheriff continues. We need results--and quickly.
Perhaps, if you had come before Lauds, I might be able to assist you, but--
I was here before Lauds! Sheriff Caeller thunders. I was here at four in the f^#&!*@ morning, and your stupid inbred s#!& of an acolyte refused to let me in! Told me I had to come back after sunrise!
Sheriff Caeller realises he's shouting--and swearing--in a temple and, with a visible effort, masters his emotions. He closes his eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath before continuing.
My apologies, Father. But as you can appreciate, I am trying to work out whether someone has been killed. Leromar, Riff, and Vrodish are already out door-knocking to see if anyone's missing. Trestleblade is back at the scene to see if he can pick up any tracks in the daylight, although I dare say the crowd obliterated whatever traces there might once have been. This-- he holds up a bloodstained handkerchief --is the only piece of evidence I have. I need to know whether I should start looking for a body. So, can you help me with the spell, or not?
Father Grimburrow seems unperturbed by the Sheriff's outburst.
Regrettably, I cannot--Pharasma has already answered my supplications today, and I may not petition her again until tomorrow. And before you ask, none of the acolytes here may safely channel so much of Pharasma's divine will. Perhaps Alendru could assi--
I don't trust Alendru as far as I can throw him, the Sheriff interrupts.
Be that as it may, Father Grimburrow continues, with Petros's untimely demise, he remains the only one here capable of casting such a spell.
If he knows it. The Sheriff seems morose now--and resigned to more mundane investigative methods for at least the next 24 hours. He sighs.
All right, thank you for your time, Father. And I am sorry about my language before.
Father Grimburrow nods gravely. While I may be unable to help you in the way you ask, I can do something. May I have that? he asks, indicating the handkerchief.
Sheriff Caeller hands it over. Get me some salt, Father Grimburrow commands a nearby acolyte. The young man hurries off.
The priest unfolds the handkerchief delicately and places it on the altar, then retrieves two copper coins from a pocket in his robes. He places them on the handkerchief just as the acolyte returns with a small bowl full of--presumably--salt. Father Grimburrow sprinkles a pinch on the handkerchief, then folds it up again before placing his hand on it and beginning an incantation.
A blue-white light emanates from beneath the priest's hand, suffusing the area around the altar and causing the Sheriff to blink reflexively. The glow fades and Father Grimburrow picks the handkerchief up again.
That should stop any loss of integrity for a week, Father Grimburrow explains as he returns the handkerchief. Just don't lose the coins, or the enchantment will be broken.
Sheriff Caeller looks genuinely grateful.
Thank you for your help, Father. I had best go see how Trestleblade is doing.
He turns to leave, nodding to you politely as he sees you gathered in the aisle--although his eyes linger for a moment on Dragomir. He starts heading back down the aisle toward the doors.
I have assumed Kendra is with you and that you have all gone to the temple, as mentioned in the discussion thread. Anything you want to correct/change, be my guest. : )
Raj moves unobtrusively at the rear of the group. As useful as teats on a tea-kettle when it comes to matters of parlay, he is determined to keep his eyes and ears open while staying out of the way. Nevertheless, he finds his attention wandering to thoughts of Kendra coming downstairs in her nightgown.
Damn.
Nevertheless, he finds his attention wandering to thoughts of Kendra coming downstairs in her nightgown.
Damn.
Despite his lack of sleep, the small halfling still has a spring in his step, looking like some puffed-up bird in his ceremonial robes as he walks toward Father Grimburrow.
Greetings Father! I apologize about coming here unannounced, but I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?
Assuming he agrees, Lem will continue in a quieter tone.
I wanted to speak with you earlier, but when I came by yesterday you were understandably busy. I just wanted to let you know that I respect your temple and your followers here. In my travels, I have seen that people are sometimes...reluctant to speak with church officials, particularly when they have to see them day after day for their entire life. Perhaps they are afraid of being ashamed in front of their fellow townsfolk, who knows? You and I both know that we would never presume to judge our flock, as only the gods can do that. But people will be people, so I guess I am saying that if you feel that any of your flock need to unburden their souls or receive priestly services that they are unwilling to seek out amongst your fine servants of Pharasma, I am more than willing to assist you during my stay here. Our Ladies want the same goals in the end, after all.
Lem waits for Grimburrow's response, then says:
One more thing, if you would, Father. Yesterday I spoke with one of your acolytes, a woman named Iona. Would you direct me to her? I'd like to ask her a small matter of local trivia, and I found something among the professor's library that I think you'd like to have in your records. Can you please point me in her direction?
Yes she did, and yes, it does. : )
Yes she did, and yes, it does. : )
On entering the Church Dragomir quietly listens... Always interested to find out what the local constabulary is thinking... Though usually its to understand their likely point of view on beating the crap out of some blowhard or barfly, or when it's best to be moving out of town. An untrained listener he gets the gist rather than the details...
Bowing his head and making obeisance to Phrasma he moves to the side of the Church and prays... Both sincerely aaaaand loud enough to be heard, albeit softly.
As the Sheriff leaves, and Lem starts his speech, Dragomir returns to stand just behind Lem, religious pendant of Pharasma's spiral openly on his chest. Bowing and again making the spiral over his heart, Dragomir waits for Lem to finish and adds, I know this Priest of the Dreamer sir and he is a good man seeking to be of help, as am I, though I am a simple man, if there is anything he or... We can do to help, please let us know. We met your acolyte yesterday but she said you were too busy...
Walter appeared the way he felt-- tired. The morning chill, especially without the comfort of the heavy winter coat, covered him with the irritability of a groggy man, but he was out and about with everyone else. The sleep that he had gotten was pitched and tiresome, and he had the feeling that not sleeping at all would have been a much more wise choice. His head had a dull ache from evoking the voices the night before, and occasionally he could taste copper in his mouth. Walter kept silent for the journey down to the Temple. If the others hadn't known better, he was sure that they would think he was hung over.
Hanging from his shoulder was one of his traveling bags. He'd slipped what he needed for the day into them-- a book, a stubby writing instrument, folded paper, his sheathed dagger-- and had slipped out the Professor's Harrowstone record in anticipation of Lem needing it as a bargaining chip against Iona. He was remiss to let something of the Professor's go, especially now, and coupled with his groggy irritation it soured his disposition. He had Vesmera to look forward to, at least, and the "bouquet" that Rajuna had gifted him sat on top of the contents of the bag. He was still working out what to say when he gave it to her. That she wasn't already waiting for him at the gazebo was lucky-- he had some things to do, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings but asking her to wait while he did them.
The spell - -
The implied spell - -
When the Sheriff left, Walter was the last person to pass him by. He watched Lem break into a speech-- Walter was still unsure if he prepared them ahead of time or just improvised-- and, after a moment, Walter turned to follow Caeller for another two or three steps.
"Sir?" he asked, tentatively. "My name's, um, Walter Bresrin. I'm a friend of the late Professor Lorrimor. I have-- we have some questions regarding um... how he died. The information we've been given, uh, has been... well, not as concise, and we were hoping that since you're well-versed in that kind of stuff, um, and you were probably there, you can tell us the specifics. Er... If you're busy, is there a place we can speak to you later?" Walter felt a twinge of timid fear cross his mind when the man regarded him, and tried to be as non-threatening or demanding as possible.
Sheriff Caeller, if I need to roll diplomacy - -
** spoiler omitted **
From the moment he was orphaned, Rajuna practiced the art of silence and watchfulness. Observing not just the actions of men but also the subtle signs in their gestures and looks, he uses them as a key to understanding others. He puts his experience to work, studying the dour priest Grimburrow as he fences words with the jovial Lem.
Some men value the beauty in words and others - only their substance. Raj tries to divine what sort of man Grimburrow is but the the cleric's perennially sour look makes it a difficult task.
Father Grimburrow watches the Sheriff making his way toward the door. He seems troubled.
Despite his lack of sleep, the small halfling still has a spring in his step, looking like some puffed-up bird in his ceremonial robes as he walks toward Father Grimburrow.
Good morning, Master Longbarrow.
Greetings Father! I apologize about coming here unannounced, but I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?
Yes, but be brief, if you can. Much needs doing.
I wanted to speak with you earlier, but when I came by yesterday you were understandably busy. I just wanted to let you know that I respect your temple and your followers here. In my travels, I have seen that people are sometimes...reluctant to speak with church officials, particularly when they have to see them day after day for their entire life. Perhaps they are afraid of being ashamed in front of their fellow townsfolk, who knows? You and I both know that we would never presume to judge our flock, as only the gods can do that. But people will be people, so I guess I am saying that if you feel that any of your flock need to unburden their souls or receive priestly services that they are unwilling to seek out amongst your fine servants of Pharasma, I am more than willing to assist you during my stay here. Our Ladies want the same goals in the end, after all.
Father Grimburrow looks down at his robes while Lem speaks, picking off minute pieces of lint. He doesn't meet Lem's eyes.
I know this Priest of the Dreamer sir and he is a good man seeking to be of help, as am I, though I am a simple man, if there is anything he or... We can do to help, please let us know. We met your acolyte yesterday but she said you were too busy...
Finally, the priest faces Lem. Young man, I am aware that you have spent much of your life journeying through Ustalav, providing aid to the unfortunate. It is clear, then, that you have great concern for your fellow man.
Allow me, if you will, to posit a hypothetical situation. You meet a man whose family is starving. Do you offer him food unconditionally? If not, under what conditions are you willing to offer him your aid? Do you wish to know if he harbours evil intentions? What if he beats his wife? What if, without your aid, he will die? If you hold this man's life in the palm of your hand, will you act then? Father Grimburrow's glance takes in Lem's armour, festooned with Desna's holy symbols. Or do you put your faith in your Goddess and cede responsibility to her?
Let's presume you do aid this man, and that without such aid he will die. How do you feel if you discover, years later, that he has become a warlord and is responsible for the deaths of thousands? Do those deaths become a stain on your conscience, Master Longbarrow? After all, if you hadn't helped the man, he would have died and would not have had the opportunity to kill, maim, and torture his way across the countryside.
Perhaps you will tell me that the future where you didn't save the man is just as unknown as the present was to you, years ago. Perhaps a more bloodthirsty tyrant would have arisen in his place. We can't know.
But we can take responsibility for our actions. We wield great power, he says, before chanting a series of syllables that make Lem's bowels turn to water as he suddenly finds Father Grimburrow terrifying. Lem backs away--only for the priest to chant more syllables that freeze Lem in place, paralysing him.
Lem feels a suffocating terror at being unable to escape from Father Grimburrow's terrifying visage as the old man leans in, inches from the halfling's face. And with that power, comes a great responsibility, the priest says, before making a gesture that relieves the restrictions on Lem's arms and legs. The terrifying emotions vanish too.
Cause and effect, Father Grimburrow continues, are the ultimate arbiters of our fate--the final decision rests with the Lady, but it is our own choices that provide her with the information she needs to make that decision.
You have great potential, Lem. Very great potential--Idir* himself has informed me of this. There is an audible intake of breath from one of the acolytes at this comment. Realising she has just given away the fact that she is listening, the young woman hurries off to some other errand, her face red. Father Grimburrow continues on undaunted. Your concern for the individual is a great trait of yours. But don't let those concerns blind you to the broader picture. One day, you will hold the lives of millions in your hands. You need to be able to make the hard decisions, Lem. Not just the easy ones.
There is a pause while Father Grimburrow's gaze bores straight into Lem's eyes. After a few seconds, Father Grimburrow turns away to contemplate the altar, and the enormous statue of Pharasma that stands behind it.
You are welcome to practise your faith here, the priest says, staring up at Pharasma's inscrutable countenance, but bear in mind what I have said. The power I held over you just now--ever so briefly--is the same power that you will one day hold over others--including me. Use it wisely. Remember your experience today--but never forget that there is more at stake than the man who stands before you, always more to the picture than you can see at any given instant. And always consider cause and effect.
*Make a Knowledge (religion) check. Anyone who identifies themselves as a Pharasmin and/or has read The Bones Land in a Spiral closely can take a +5 circumstance bonus to their roll.
As for the priest's general motivations, you believe that he is seeking a way to enact Pharasma's will in the time he has left to him--which, given his advanced age, may not be long.
###
Lem waits for Grimburrow's response, then says:
One more thing, if you would, Father. Yesterday I spoke with one of your acolytes, a woman named Iona. Would you direct me to her? I'd like to ask her a small matter of local trivia, and I found something among the professor's library that I think you'd like to have in your records. Can you please point me in her direction?
The elderly priest turns around from his contemplation of the statue.
Probably in the archives, he says. Through that door there. Good luck.
He closes his eyes, still with his head tilted up at the statue. It appears the conversation is over and everyone begins to move away, but even as they do so, he calls out once more.
Master Bresrin...stay with me a moment, if you will.
Many things have been revealed to me, he continues, but your fate was not one of them. I expect you will find the road ahead a difficult one--as would many who will live to see such times as I believe await us.
And no, he says to Walter's unspoken question, I do not wish to reveal what I have learned; prophecy has been so uncertain this last century, and I see no reason to believe that this situation is any different.
But I do believe that you have the capacity to chart your own destiny, young man. In doing so, I would suggest a clear view of your course might be important.
He reaches inside his robes for a moment, and brings out a small, square metal object, and hands it to Walter. When Walter opens it, it turns out to be a wayfinder. I thought that might be useful to you, he says dryly. It was once mine, and I have no need of it any longer. I hope you find it as helpful as I did.
The priest stands and shuffles off, leaving Walter alone in the nave with a couple of obviously astounded acolytes.
When the Sheriff left, Walter was the last person to pass him by. He watched Lem break into a speech-- Walter was still unsure if he prepared them ahead of time or just improvised-- and, after a moment, Walter turned to follow Caeller for another two or three steps.
"Sir?" he asked, tentatively. "My name's, um, Walter Bresrin. I'm a friend of the late Professor Lorrimor. I have-- we have some questions regarding um... how he died. The information we've been given, uh, has been... well, not as concise, and we were hoping that since you're well-versed in that kind of stuff, um, and you were probably there, you can tell us the specifics. Er... If you're busy, is there a place we can speak to you later?" Walter felt a twinge of timid fear cross his mind when the man regarded him, and tried to be as non-threatening or demanding as possible.
The Sheriff's countenance softens as Walter makes his entreaty. Walter, is it? I knew a young man just like you once. He takes in Walter's somewhat dishevelled appearance. Well, maybe not just like you, but you do remind me of him.
He sighs. And you are mixed up in this Lorrimor business now too, huh? When Walter nods his assent, the Sheriff seems pensive. Come to the jail, mid-afternoon. Around two. We should be done with the door-knocking by then. And bring Kendra.
The Sheriff places a hand on Walter's shoulder. I hope you know what you're getting yourself in for, he says, giving Walter's shoulder a supportive squeeze before heading back out the front door of the Temple.
Raj moves unobtrusively at the rear of the group. As useful as teats on a tea-kettle when it comes to matters of parlay, he is determined to keep his eyes and ears open while staying out of the way. Nevertheless, he finds his attention wandering to thoughts of Kendra coming downstairs in her nightgown.
Damn.
1d20+4
From the moment he was orphaned, Rajuna practiced the art of silence and watchfulness. Observing not just the actions of men but also the subtle signs in their gestures and looks, he uses them as a key to understanding others. He puts his experience to work, studying the dour priest Grimburrow as he fences words with the jovial Lem.
Some men value the beauty in words and others - only their substance. Raj tries to divine what sort of man Grimburrow is but the the cleric's perennially sour look makes it a difficult task.
1d20+4
As for Father Grimburrow, he's an old man. He has seen a lot--and his movements, although stilted in his old age, belie an earlier athleticism that he's never quite lost. You suspect that he hasn't always been the sedentary head of a church.
His preference is very much one of function over form; he does not take kindly to nonsense and does not tolerate it amongst his acolytes--the one who gasped is likely to get a stern talking-to.
If you had to guess, you'd say he is driven by a need to make a difference--but that he doesn't have a lot of time left. It makes him forceful and unpredictable--but his mind is certainly clear. Unfortunately as nobody (yet) can detect evil or whatnot, you don't know about the intentions behind his actions.