Cabbage and lamb spill out of his mouth as Silvio laughs as he hears Garen--Garen!--tell a joke. He quickly wipes his mouth with a napkin. "How do you know he didn't earn it?" asks the halfling.
"Bull@#$%," the man says to Sledge, slurping up a long piece of cabbage. "I ain't never heard of such a thing."
Charles' eyebrows both raise in amusement at the banter between his three young companions. He was very glad tensions had eased quite a bit as he was worried things would get out of hand far too quickly.
At the half-elf's proclamation, he interjects. "You've never heard of Razmir appearing to someone or you've never heard of one of the other gods appearing to someone? While I find that to be a minor distinction personally, I am well-studied in most things arcane, natural, and divine and while it may be rare to have an aspect of a deity appear, it is not unheard of. While there are probably several gods that I have NOT heard of doing that thing, I don't find it outside of the realm of possibility. Many of the gods have various heralds, messengers, and what-not. So I am curious if you find the statement unbelievable because it involves Razmir or just because it involves one of the many gods."
He breaks off pieces of the fish to feed Roger in-between eating his own cabbage and lamb.
"Any god," the man responds. "Maybe a messenger, but there's no reason a god would reach out to a nobody at random." He takes a large bite and chews at it for a while, swallowing audibly after pounding his chest. "And it just offends me." This large bite he washes down with a dribbling swig of ale.
"Have you no romance in your soul man? If a God tells you to jump, you don't ask it for proof of divinity, you ask it how high? Or in my case, how far?" Sledge shrugs his shoulders. "Tamran is quite a bit further from my home. I left things behind there that were important to me. People too." Sledge thinks of Damira, before putting it from his mind. "Is it my provincial heritage that bothers you friend? Rancor against Razmir himself? Or just that he didn't choose you?" Sledge takes a long drink of his water.
Silvio watches expectantly as the conversation continues, wondering how convincing Sledge could be. This felt like an early test.
"I am," the half-elven man says between bites. He shrugs. "I don't have the luxury for romance." Struggling to down another morsel, he belches and looks at Sledge directly. "Why come to Tamran? Why not go directly to Razmiran? If you're claiming he appeared to you and had the luxury to be able to travel, why not go to the source?"
As if on cue, the door opens once more. A group of six masked Razmirans walk into the Ranger's Lament: three dressed in white robes, two in gray robes, and one in black robes. They look about the room, observing the five prospective adherents at a table, and the black-robed figure takes to the stage while their compatriots sit at other tables.
After stepping up onto the stage, the apparent leader of the group turns to the table of recruits, their face hidden behind an iron mask. With a strong voice--deep, rich, and different from whoever spoke this morning--the voice calls out.
"You have come here to seek the power and glory of Razmir, and I am here to tell you that he has found you worthy! All hail the Living God!"
The other five priests chant in one voice, "All hail the Living God." The half-elf joins the chant.
"He is proud of you," the black-robed figure continues, "for taking this, the first of 31 steps to enlightenment, the path of righteousness, the stairs to power and glory. Razmir is the one true god. What other god so richly rewards those who follow him? What other god lives among his people, guiding them with his wisdom and his might? What other god can lead you to true salvation? None of them! Only Razmir can offer you the power, the fortune, and the glory that you desire. Will you join him?" He folds his arms and waits for an answer.
"These words seem all too small to express the magnitude of my belief, but I will join." Sledge says. He wonders if he should fall to his knees, but decides that might be overdoing it a little bit.
The halfling watches as the Razmirans come in. It was quite the spectacle, and a little faster than he realized. But he says what he figures he ought to say.
"I will join him. All hail the Living God!"
"Of course I will," the half-elf says, bowing his head. The masks turn to Charles, waiting for the final affirmative response.
"I am willing and able to travel this road as far as Razmir will allow me," Charles adds in his agreement.
"Congratulations, the black-robed priest says. "You have made a wise decision. Rolen!"
The bartender peaks his head out of the presumed kitchen. "Mmm?"
"We will be paying for the food and drink of our guests. Come, let us dine together before we take you to the Temple."
The five Razmirans in white or gray stand up and re-sort themselves at different tables, waving the other five to join them instead of isolating themselves. The one in black robes remains at the stage, observing. The half-elf takes his plate and drink and gets up immediately, going to join a table where a white-robe and a gray-robe are seated.
Charles heads over to the table with the a grey-robed priest and expresses his appreciate towards the temple purchasing their food this evening.
"Greetings and salutations! My name is Charles and I've come quite a ways to find out more about the Living God. I've studied quite a bit of religion and the arcane. I am very grateful for the opportunity to learn more. Could you tell me about the 31 steps towards the righteousness Razmir offers?"
One of the white-robed priests reaches his hand out and shakes Garen's. The hands are calloused. "Greetings, future brother. Do you have questions?"
Charles gets a similar response from the gray-robed priest he greets, though the hands are less calloused than what Garen is experiencing a table away. "Greetings, future brother. The First Step is initiation into the Razmir's faith. To learn more yet would stunt your spiritual growth."
"Sledge," Sledge says, approaching the priests. He stays a respectful distance from them, not wanting to encroach onto their physical space.
"Take off your wooden mask, Sledge," one of the gray-robed priests says. "So that you may approach Razmir purified."
"Thank you for your guidance," Charles replies, adopting a humble and earnest tone. "I understand that the path to spiritual growth requires initiation, and I am eager to embark upon this journey. However, I find myself drawn to learn more about the teachings of Razmir and the functions of the temple, as I believe a deeper understanding will enhance my devotion and commitment."
Charles pauses for a moment, allowing his words to settle in wanting to gauge the response of the initiate and see if they would offer any further insights willingly.
"But I do understand if the Razmiran faith is one that requires... proven devotion before allowing an initiate to go on to the next level. While I am certainly willing to submit to this, might I inquire as to what the first couple of steps are? Or could you tell me what Step you are currently on? I am assuming that as in most other religions, the clothing differences between you and the other devouts are indicative of status. With the brother in the black robe having obtained the highest Step of Righteousness among those here."
"We begin here," the white-robed priest tells Garen. "Eat and drink your fill. You will need your strength."
The gray-robed priest waits through Charles' speeches and pauses, seeming patient. "I am a Priest of the Third Step. The white robe signifies the wearer as an Acolyte of the First Step. The black robe signifies the wearer as a Herald of the Eighth Step." He pauses now. "You are learned in the ways of the world. Soon you will become learned in the truths hidden from the world."
Silvio stays with Winter by himself for a while, content to finish his food and also to let Winter eat as well. Eventually, though, he joins the half-elf and the robed ones he's with.
"I'm glad to take the first step, but my faithful dog needs a place, too. Can I keep him by my side through these trials?"
The priests sitting with Silvio look to each other at his question, seeming unable to come up with an answer of their own. They look towards the black-robed priest on the stage, who answers. "It is unusual to bring a pet into the Temple, but yes--we will take in your dog as well." He turns to Charles. "The weasel as well."
The half-elven man at Silvio's table yawns and then slumps over on the table, his face planting into the mostly-eaten plate of lamb and cabbage. The nearest Razmiran priest reaches forward and gently lifts him up by the back of his shirt, setting him down next to the plate instead of in it.
Charles looks over at Rolen with a curious expression on his face. "That is most curious. Did he consume too much ale before he ate his meal? I didn't think he drank near enough for that, but he was very hungry."
Charles feels a twinge of fatigue wash over him, but certainly not enough to want to take a nap. Rolen, the bartender, shrugs.
"Oh wait, oh . . . oh . . ."
"This was unforseen..." he begins as he follows the rest of the group slumping down.
Charles, Garen, and Silvio all succumb to waves of exhaustion suddenly overtaking them. Winter gives a big doggy-yawn, his eye drooping after the meal.
Roger's head slumps down, while the poor creature still clutches its fish closely.
Winter sees that everyone else around him is ready to sleep and trusts that he ought to sleep as well.
There is no dreaming in induced unconsciousness. But when you wakes, some time later, it is in darkness. The ground is partially covered with a simple straw mat. Before you, you are just able to discern iron bars, but the other three walls are made of stone. If you feel around, you note that all of your gear is gone. You are alone in your five by ten cells (save that Roger is with Charles and Winter is with Silvio).
Finding himself in darkness, Silvio reflexively reaches out to his holy symbol as a divine focus for a light spell before realizing that he surrendered his holy symbol before coming here.
Maybe it was just as well--Silvio did not have a good explanation for calling on holy power. And perhaps they were being watched. He's grateful to find himself not separated from Winter--at least they kept that promise.
He walks to the iron bars and tries to gaze through the darkness. "Hello? Anyone there?"
Sledge 1
A small but self-assured voice calls out from the darkness, easily recognized by his friends as Silvio. Charles and Garen each hear him from their left, while Sledge hears him from his right.
No one else responds.
Everyone else hears Garen coming from their right.
Garen finds that the bars don't budge. It seems that the door to his cell is indeed locked.
Winter barks as he hears Garen, signaling his own presence.
"Garen! It's Silvio. I'm in a cell with Winter. This must be the test, right?" He goes for the bars too. Maybe they would be too wide to contain a halfling?
"Anyone else here?" he asks. He wonders if the half-elf that joined the initiation with them was present.
He starts looking and feeling around for anything out of the ordinary that might be a way out.
Winter begins sniffing around too.
|
"It could be." Garen replies to Silvio's question. "They likely know how long it takes for people to awake from their concoction. Hopefully they will be along soon." Suspecting such, he remains laying on the mat and studies the ceiling for a bit. If it seems to take more than half an hour or so he will get up and begin to exercise.
Silvio pushes against the bars but finds them unyielding in spite of his stature. Winter finds many unfamiliar smells in the room, especially on the straw mat and in the corners. Sweat, urine, but none of them from anyone he recognizes. (A dog knows, after all.)
A less familiar voice answers his query, situated between Garen and Charles' cells. "I guess I'm 'anyone else.' Are you the lot from the Lament?" It sounds like the half-elf.
Charles slowly wakes groggily and rubs his eyes. Then his knees and stretches with a groan as he rights his back. "Yes, I'm here as well," he says to the dark cells around him.
Roger twitches a few times as he comes awake, instinctively trying to pull the now missing fish to his mouth.
"Hmmm... This could certainly be a test. Either to see if we are capable enough to free ourselves, work together with others, or wait patiently." Feeling around with his gear, primarily spell component pouch and spellbook, missing, he adds. "I assume they are not interested in how well we can use our existing tools, so there is some type of desire to separate us from our past at a minimum. That's not uncommon for several religious organizations, though this is the first time I've seen this particular method used."
Charles begins searching his cell and urges Roger to do the same or see if he can squeeze between the bars and get sight of what else may be in the area.
Charles and Roger find some dead fleas in the straw mat, but that seems to be the only notable thing in the cell. There are no loose bricks, no scrawled messages, and no hidden tools. Furthermore, the bars are just tight enough together that Roger isn't able to wedge himself through.
As the men chatter on, they hear the dull echo of approaching footsteps. By the light of a torch, two masked priests pass by the cells, looking in each cell at the men within. The first priest, black-robed, seems visually indistinguishable from the other Heralds. He seems to be carrying several bowls. The second priest, gray-robed, is a large man, nearly 7 feet tall and with a broad girth to match his height. The gray-robed priest's iron mask is also distinct, covered in rust but glowing faintly in the darkness. He holds a torch in one hand and has a sack slung over his shoulder.
"I must apologize for the way that you were brought here," the black-robed priest begins with a calm, even tone. The voice is the same, deep rich voice that greeted you at the Ranger's Lament. "We must be sure that you are pure and properly prepared to join the faith. Today you sall fast and meditate on the glory of Razmir. On the morrow you shall be sworn in and given your masks, made one with the body of Razmir; one piece of the greater whole. You shall become acolytes, and be allowed upon the first step of enlightenment. Rejoice! The path of glory and fortune shall be open to you."
The black-robed priest kneels in front of each door, lifts up a small opening, and slides a bowl of water through. The gray-robed priest follows after, watches to see what each occupant does with their water bowl, and then stuffs a white robe through the same compartment.
---
When the pageantry is done, the herald and priest leave the way they came in, once again leaving the party (and their unknown, unnamed companion) in darkness.
At sight of light in the distance and the sound of approaching footsteps, Charles quickly and quietly mumbles to himself as he begins focusing on picking up any trace of magic.
Charles takes the bowl of water and takes a small sip of the water, anxious to drink, but attempting to test it and see if any other discernable drugs have been slipped into it.
"Fast for the day? Are there any other restrictions upon us during this time of meditation?"
Until he prepares spells from his spellbook, the only spells a wizard has available to cast are the ones that he already had prepared from the previous day and has not yet used. During the study period, he chooses which spells to prepare. If a wizard already has spells prepared (from the previous day) that he has not cast, she can abandon some or all of them to make room for new spells.
Charles doesn't detect any poison or drugs in his bowl of water. It seems to be clean. But his senses light up with the awareness of magic. After a few moments, he counts 13 magical auras, with the strongest being moderate. Three of the auras, all faint, are coming from the gray-robed priest. The remaining ten, eight faint and two moderate, come from the black-robed herald. Two of those auras are identical to each other, leaving twelve distinct auras.
"Yes," the black-robed herald responds. "Meditation is quiet." This comment is directed especially towards the boisterous Garen.
Sledge has been particularly quiet, to the point that the others aren't certain whether he is awake or with them at all.