Something is digging into your ribs. You bat at it groggily, hoping to return to sleep, but a voice shatters your thoughts.
Get up.
You open your eyes slowly. A pair of boots stands before you. Beyond them, a few gravestones in the background. Wait…where are you?
Your limbs seem encased in molasses as you force yourself to a sitting position, and then haul yourself up. You are in the Restlands, and all around you are shadowy figures. You look up.
Standing before you, towering over you, is Father Grimburrow.
He smiles. It is unpleasant. You are mine now, he says, and turns his back. Come.
Your legs seem to move of their own accord as you drag yourself sleepily after the old man. The figures around you begin to move as well and—oh sweet Desna protect you, they are all zombies.
Which is when you stumble, and look down at your own pale limbs—and in an open wound on your right hand, maggots writhe as they feast on your dead flesh.
You try to scream, but your consciousness is sucked in and down as you awaken with a start back at Kendra’s house—your body slicked with sweat.
As the sun begins the last leg of its trek toward the western horizon, Dragomir makes his way to the Temple of Pharasma. When he arrives, he sees a small group of people out the front, slowly filing in past Father Grimburrow.
The old man greets him as he makes his own way through the doors, shaking his hand enthusiastically. Father Grimburrow asks Iona to take over while he shows Dragomir in personally--which she does, but with a scowl that sends a couple of the newly-arrived worshippers scurrying to their seats.
Father Grimburrow leads Dragomir to a pew near the front, and then asks him to wait while he goes to get something.
He disappears for a few minutes--time that Dragomir takes to look around the cathedral. Just being in the temple stirs up long-dormant memories of his time in Kavapesta as a youth--vaulted ceilings, ornate scrollwork on the pews, carvings everywhere...
Whether it's his size or the fact that he's not a native Ravengrian, Dragomir finds he has the entire pew to himself. He fidgets for a while, perhaps thinking that this wasn't the best idea after all, when Father Grimburrow finally returns.
He hands Dragomir a book. It's bound in black leather, a silvered image of a skane embossed on the cover. It's a copy of The Bones Land in a Spiral--and Father Grimburrow tells Dragomir that it's a gift.
It's probably the most expensive book Dragomir has ever held in his hands.
###
The service is simple and relatively short, with little of the ostentation and affectation that characterises Dragomir's memories of other priests from his childhood.
Father Grimburrow relates a parable telling of Pharasma's threefold nature: the gentle midwife who welcomes new life, the erratic prophet who inspires fear and devotion in equal measure, and the sombre and unflinching reaper who comes for everyone in the end.
Dragomir can't help but wonder which of them he is hitching his wagon to.
Which is when Father Grimburrow concludes his sermon, explaining that these three seemingly disparate personalities are merely facets of the same being--and that to truly understand Pharasma, one has to love them all equally. Doing so, he explains, is a lot easier when you first understand the disparate parts of yourself.
He looks at Dragomir as he says it.
###
At the end, Father Grimburrow stands outside the temple, shakes everyone's hand as they leave, and wishes them all well. He asks Dragomir to remain behind after everyone else has left, and asks him how he feels.
(Feel free to post a soliloquy if you like...)
When Dragomir is finished, Father Grimburrow grips Dragomir's forearm in the traditional warrior's handshake.
May she guide your hand, Dragomir, he says, before he turns around and heads back into the temple, closing the doors behind him.
We all have free will. You must make your own decisions. But you say Pharasma told you to fight in her name? If you wish to do so, then I would be happy to help, in whatever way you need. You say your faith has lapsed--why not come to Vespers this evening? Spend some time amongst the trappings of the church, and perhaps you will feel more at ease with your decision, whatever it turns out to be.
Dragomir nods his assent.
I'll be there Father
The rest of the words fade into comforting babble until Septimus comes into the room.
He rises awkwardly and after securing his sheet, does his best to help Father Grimburrow.
Thanks Septimus. Appreciate it. Gimme a bit to get dressed an' stop draggin' m' feet and I'll meet you down stairs.
Father Grimburrow accepts Dragomir's hand up gratefully, although he is still somewhat slow to rise. He glances at Septimus before continuing. I think we have said enough now--words can only accomplish so much before deeds must overtake them. I will see you at Vespers. Six o'clock.
With that, he shuffles out of the room; although he shuts the door, Dragomir can hear him as he walks downstairs with Septimus.
Now, young man, let's have a chat about basic etiquette, shall we? I'm sure you have half an hour to spare...
Panting on the floor as if felled by a blow, Dragomir mouths a pray of thanks to the Lady of Graves, unable to vocalise for a minute after the experience.
Still laying there he closes his eyes.
Father - The Lady of Graves has spoke to me yesterday, and now today? She's appeared to me. I would say I'm mad but what I felt... , still laying down, he shakes his head.
I don' know what I ought t' be doin... I was raised in the faith but I sort of just let it drop once I left home... it was somethin' I honoured in memory, yeh know, on the holidays and such but... Now? Now I have Pharasma the Midwife appear to me... right in the midst of ghosts and evil spirits, when I am about to crap my pants and just run... She appeared to me. 'Vino', she says, 'Fi renăscut'.
Dragomir gulps thickly.
Then, somehow, in the middle of everything goin' around me? The fear that just was crushin' all the manhood outta me? Everything stops. She hugs me... and I'll never forget the words.
'Vino aici, copilul meu', Nu vă fie teamă. Sunteţi sub protecţia mea, şi nu voi lăsa să te rănesc'. He recites the words in wonder.
Then she tells me 'Acum, du-te mai departe, şi luptă în numele meu'.
*Page 28 of Gameplay for the events
I was in the bosom of The Lady, Father, - and its changed me - I still don't understand it.
His eyes snap open and he looks at Father Grimburrow pleadingly, his expression desperate as if he is hoping the Priest can make sense of it all.
Whats happenin'? She's told me fight in her name but I don't understan' why me and why now and jus' what she wants me to do. He stops and then somewhat panicked exclaims, I'm no saint!.
Quoted in its entirety for awesomeness.
Father Grimburrow takes his time sitting down on the floor opposite Draogmir. It's obvious that his age makes it rather difficult, but he does it anyway.
I just finished saying to your friend downstairs that prophecy is an unpredictable creature at the best of times. This, he waves his bony arm, is certainly not the best of times. But for Pharasma to appear before you...
The old man casts his gaze skyward for a moment, perhaps thinking about his own experiences. I would counsel both caution and exultation, in equal measure. He looks Dragomir up and down for a moment. I hope you'll forgive me if I speak plainly, but you do not strike me as the kind of man who thinks overlong or deeply on most topics. Without having been witness to your revelations, I am not in a position to pass judgement on their authenticity.
He shakes his head. Look at me, rambling on about things like I'm teaching an acolyte. Let me be clear: it's sometimes hard to tell the difference between wishful thinking or visions brought about by blood loss, and true epiphany. It can also be difficult to detect deception.
I believe you experienced what you say you experienced. I am sure for you it was real. I am not sure that you have the ability to tell whether it was truly Pharasma who spoke to you, or someone else who claimed to be her--there are powerful creatures stalking the planes who would think nothing of impersonating a goddess. But it's important for you to understand that I tell you this not to belittle your experience, but so that you make your decisions with your eyes wide open.
And whether this was Pharasma speaking directly to you or not, the entity that contacted you seems to have your best interests at heart. Other than just being a cantankerous old man who is probably overly cautious, I see no obvious reason to doubt that it is Pharasma, or someone acting on her behalf, who you saw. I imagine if a yamaraj--one of the Boneyard's magistrates--showed itself before you, looking like a cross between a crow and a black dragon, you would probably think twice before accepting its counsel. So it would not be out of the question for an agent of Pharasma to show itself to you in her guise.
As for what you should do? Well, that depends. We all have free will. You must make your own decisions. But you say Pharasma told you to fight in her name? If you wish to do so, then I would be happy to help, in whatever way you need. You say your faith has lapsed--why not come to Vespers this evening? Spend some time amongst the trappings of the church, and perhaps you will feel more at ease with your decision, whatever it turns out to be.
The priest puts a hand on Dragomir's knee, poking out from under the sheet.
You have choices ahead of you, Dragomir. Choices that will not be easy. If you need guidance, I will be here, and so will the Lady.
After a brief knock, Dragomir's door suddenly bursts open and Septimus pokes his head into the room.
Septimus wrote:
"Dragomir, I trust all is well? I've made some most marvelous advances down-" Septimus stops short as he finally notices the presence of Grimburrow, whom he has not yet met but presumably has been told about. With the sense of caution befitting a man who has run afoul of Pharasma's more stentorian servants throughout Ustalav, Septimus purses his lips.
"Father. A pleasure to meet you." Septimus takes in the scene. "It seems that you are doing for Dragomir what I cannot through mere science - at least, not yet. You have my sincere gratitude, to be sure."
Father Grimburrow's brows knit together over his eyes as he glares at the interloper. In my experience, gratitude is cheap, whether it is sincere or otherwise. Why don't you make yourself useful, young man, and help an old man up? Then, perhaps, you can tell me who you are and why common courtesy appears to have deserted you? He holds out a hand.
I got hit by some flying bat things that suck blood like a mosquito if you can picture such a thing - I need someone to help with that and check that my wounds don't fester... but more importantly Father? I need to talk and I need your guidance.
Yes, your friend Rajuna mentioned there were stirges involved. Let's see to your physical wounds first, and then tend to the other, hmm?
Father Grimburrow potters around Dragomir's room, asking Flori to help him move a few things around until he has cleared a space big enough for his purposes. Then he politely asks Flori to leave.
Let's see what wounds we have, then, hmm? Father Grimburrow asks Dragomir to sit cross-legged on the floor with the sheet around his waist, so that the old man can better reach Dragomir's chest and upper arms where several of the wounds are located. He looks over Dragomir's wounds carefully, and then puts a hands on the younger man's shoulder.
It doesn't seem like anything's particularly badly damaged. The blood drain is the worst of it. The priest fishes a small pouch from beneath his black robes, and tips a handful of white, glittery powder out onto his palm. Now, sit still--and please, try not to sneeze.
Father Grimburrow sprinkles the dust over Dragomir as he walks around the bigger man in a circle, and recites an incantation. Abide with us, goddess, for it is toward evening and our strength is all but spent. Abide with us in the evening of the day, in the evening of life, in the evening of the world. Abide with us in your wisdom and mercy, in holy word and deed, in your guidance and your blessing. Abide with us in the night of distress and fear, in the night of doubt and temptation, in the night of inescapable death, when these shall overtake us. Abide with us and all your faithful, goddess, in time and eternity.
The benediction complete, Grimburrow places a hand on Dragomir's forehead. The dust coating Dragomir's form makes him glitter in the muted light through the window.
Grimburrow withdraws a scroll from another pocket and takes a breath. Brace yourself, he says, and then he speaks a language Dragomir cannot understand.
A divine conduit opens up and Dragomir feels Pharasma's energy surging through his body and his soul. There is an odd duality to it, simultaneously uplifting and flaying him bare, as though his poor mortal frame is simply not built to cope with the magnitude of the power Grimburrow wields. The torrent of energy courses through his body and then is gone just as suddenly, and Dragomir is left panting and naked on the floor of his room, feeling whole once more, but somehow diminished as the experience ends.
Father Grimburrow slowly removes his hand from Dragomir's forehead.
Talk to me, Dragomir, Grimburrow says. Are you well?
After Dragomir gives his assent, Father Grimburrow enters the room, his beetled brows drawn down low over his eyes.
He moves to Dragomir's side and looks up at the much larger man. His gaze takes in Dragomir's sallowed skin and laboured movement.
Good grief, he says with a smile, you do need help.
While Raj and Karrik are free to do what they wish, unless you specifically ask her to leave, Flori will hover at the doorway. Kendra is still downstairs--you'll see in a minute what she's up to.
Raj chews on Grimburrow's words as they walk along. Eventually, he pats the old priest on the shoulder and smiles.
"Damned if I don't like you, Father! Betimes, you remind me of... me."
...
"Doc was sorta jokin' around with me once and he asked, "Raj, my boy, what is the matter with you? Why do you always insist on taking the path of most resistance?" He caught me short on that. The only thing I could think to say was, "'cuz that's the right way to go."..." The thief lapses into silence, only slightly disturbed that he'd spoken more of his mind than he normally would.
The old man glowers for a moment, but you can tell he is only putting on an act and that your words really do mean something to him.
Sometimes, pushing your way uphill through a difficult struggle can be a great learning experience. He pauses for a moment as you make your way through the front gate at Kendra's house. But sometimes--there's a phrase used by Garundi tribesmen in Pharasma's homeland that I believe I can translate to something you'll appreciate, he says as Kendra opens the front door and heads inside. The two of you are left on the porch by yourselves for a moment. The original Garundi is rather complex, and if I tried to repeat it I would make mistakes, but a passable Taldane translation is this:
Only the dung beetle was made to push s#!& uphill.
With that, he heads inside, leaving you on the doorstep.
"Circumspect got one too many syllables for me to like it, Father. I'm a simple man - so let's get down to the nut of this. Readin' books in your library took us as far as it could. We needed more information and a chance to see what we were dealing with - so we did it - as quiet and careful as possible. Don't like our choices? Grab a pack and risk your own skin doin' it your way."
...
Raj nods, "Ain't a 'Master' in front of my name, Father. And I wouldn't know the difference between alchemy and prophecy if they bought me drinks. But you answered my question all the same."
...
The thief barks a laugh. "I don't trust what I can't verify so I've got little faith for words or prophecies, Father. I took your warning yesterday and I take it again today."
Father Grimburrow seems almost amused at Raj's responses. I doubt very much that you are quite as simple as you seem, young man, he says. As for your title, well, I think 'Master' is appropriate, but if you prefer to remain a 'simple' man then who am I to judge...
You trudge onwards in silence for a few dozen yards before Grimburrow speaks up again.
As for my warnings, let me explain in a way that perhaps a man like yourself will find more conducive to understanding.
You and your companions--one way or another--are destined for great things. Along the way, you will have to make choices--some of which you may not like. I'm not here to give you the answers--I am here to teach you how to think. You need to get to the answers on your own.
Inevitably, the decisions you make on your journey will change you--make you something other than what you are today. He looks up at Kendra. My advice--for what it's worth--is to keep sight of what is important to you.
Raj:
What's going on here? Well, Grimburrow's Sense Motive roll is enough to give him an idea that Raj is religious--he has picked up little things like the incongruity between Raj's adopted demeanour and his familiarity with the Temple surroundings. But while Grimburrow is sure that Raj has a specific faith, he doesn't know which one, and he certainly doesn't know that Raj is 'employed' by the church of Iomedae.
As for his veiled reference to Kendra at the end there, he is referring to friendship, although he has his suspicions about the two of you being compatible. He doesn't know about the existing relationship (whatever it is!).
You what? Father Grimburrow says, surprise clear on his face. In Harrowstone? Already?
He looks troubled as he moves over to lean against a chest of drawers. I have to say I didn't expect this--not so soon.
After Grimburrow appears and they begin walking back to the house, Raj lets a companionable silence build before breaking it utterly, as he watches the old priest sharply. "So if you weren't expectin' us to move on Harrowstone so soon - what were you expectin', eh? You had the prophecy - what aren't you tellin' us?"
Raj:
And, in the end, I didn’t use the Sense Motive roll after all. Owel.
I should also add, out-of-character, that I had forgotten that you told Grimburrow that you were going into Harrowstone; the only mention of it I have subsequently found is a passing reference by Lem when he was bartering for holy water, so my previous Grimburrow post was written as though he hadn't known you were going in yet. Mea culpa.
Father Grimburrow turns to regard Raj angrily. What was I expecting? I was expecting that the people Professor Lorrimor thought worthy of his legacy might be a little more circumspect! He chews his lip irritably as he allows silence to fill in the next few dozen yards, the crunch of your feet on the crusted dirt of the road the only counterpoint to the birdsong from the nearby fields.
The professor, he continues, was a wise man, but one who was given to rash decisions when pushed into a corner. He paid for that with his life. He takes all of you in with a stern gaze. I would hope not to see those unfortunate circumstances repeated.
As for what I’m not telling you, prophecy is not like alchemy, Master Rajuna. Mixing the same ingredients in precise proportions does not always generate the same result—especially in the present climate of uncertainty. Contrary to popular belief, prophecy is not typically delivered either as rhyming couplets or a beatific revelation. The truth is much more prosaic—and hence, much more boring.
As for what has been revealed to me, I will not speak on it, save to tell you what I told you yesterday: you and your companions will hold the fate of millions in your hands. You need to be ready for that. The decisions you make will affect everyone you know, and many more that you don’t. You need to be ready to make those decisions—on your own. I am merely an element of the dialectic, nothing more. Do not place too much faith in prophecy—or the words of a tired old man.
Father Grimburrow's Sense Motive: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31
Unfortunately no time to finish off a post right now, but I was halfway through a post and don't want to lose this roll (which a lot of the rest of the post is built around).
Yes... Father Grimburrow looks thoroughly lost in thought, but you can see that his mind is working overtime, most likely sorting its way through possibilities and opportunities presented by this manifestation of the prophecy he said he had been given.
The old priest abruptly straightens up. I will come immediately. Just let me gather a few things. Can you wait for five minutes?
Father Grimburrow looks rather surprised, but recovers his composure quickly.
Of course. Follow me.
He leads you down the transept of the temple and through a door into a small room that appears to have as its primary function the storage of ceremonial robes.
Now, what can I help you with?
I will leave the question of how to break the subject to Grimburrow to the PC(s).
Father Grimburrow's glowering countenance is just as creepy as it was this morning. Strangely, his mood appears much more upbeat.
I believe we can trust Master Longbarrow here to pay his debts, Father Grimburrow says to Irel. He turns to Lem.
You are welcome to the holy water--take as much as you need. There is no need to sign over your inheritance, you obtained that by your own means, and I would not gainsay the Professor in his wishes. I only ask that you make a donation to the church at a later date, that you deem to be suitable recompense.
Hey folks. Going to amalgamate a few posts here to form a slightly more coherent narrative.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Father Grimburrow wrote:
The Spider-Man speech.
It must be nice to have the luxury of using a divine gift in such a frivolous manner. I myself tend to consider beforehand the effects of using my spells on someone, and wait for a suitable cause to provoke me, he says, emphasizing the words “cause” and “effects”.
Thank you for your lesson. He nods his head in the slightest bow possible, but before he leaves, Father Grimburrow speaks again.
Father Grimburrow turns back from his contemplation of Pharasma and raises his eyebrows. His eyes are beetle-black, frightening in their intensity.
Do you think me a hypocrite, then, Lem? A bully, perhaps? Maybe some of you others are thinking the same? he says, taking in the rest of you with his gaze. That I am being 'frivolous' with Pharasma's gifts?
I am merely part of the dialectic. An instrument, if you will. I am obligated to Pharasma, and I mean to see that obligation discharged. He takes in Theron's obvious holy symbols as well as Lem's. Some of you may operate from a perspective that would see my actions characterised as 'good', or 'evil'. I ask you instead to consider whether perhaps something is 'necessary', and whether that necessity transcends simplistic black-and-white categorisation. As to the question of whose 'necessity'... He glances back up at the statue of Pharasma.
I know that inserting this bit renders Theron's question about 'necessity' a little odd-sounding...sorry about that! Mea culpa.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Father Grimburrow wrote:
You have great potential--it has been revealed to me. But don't let your view of the individual cloud your view of the wider picture--especially since you will one day be responsible for the lives of millions.
Are you familiar with the Amazwarrin, Father? I believe Fate has brought my companions and I together, but under whose purview is our entwined fate, Desna or Pharasma? I won’t claim to know, but I will say that I do trust the Great Dreamer to guide my path. And is it vain for me to assign such importance to myself? What is worse, a true portent that is ignored, or a false portent that is followed?
The Amazwarrin? I have a passing familiarity with them, but while I respect their views, personally I find their departures from doctrine a little too great for my liking. If they restricted themselves to their studies, I would have much more time for them--but they proselytise just a little too much.
And believe me, Lem, although they use different methods, Pharasma and Desna see eye-to-eye on this. I can show you your future, if you wish--the judgment Pharasma has in store for you. It is within my power. But I will not do so unless you ask. I have seen men become unhinged as a result, and you are too important for that.
Theron Adrezi wrote:
"Was that really necessary?" Theron demanded. "Was it really so important for you to make your point that you needed to drive it home with spells. I've seen men get arrested and worse for doing such things, though they weren't so lucky as to have your position to protect themselves. I hope this isn't something you do often."
Father Grimburrow turns to regard the Inquisitor. Would you arrest me, then? If so, I shall go willingly; I recognise your authority in such matters, even if I doubt the case would be viable. Cause and effect, as I said. And my point is more important than any of you can appreciate. This is not some spurious debate about philosophy or points of view. This is about very real consequences for all the people of Avistan--and possibly beyond. So no, I don't do this often--it's rare that I find myself in the presence of people with a destiny such as yours, and it's more rare that Idir deigns to speak plainly. I have no regrets about my actions.
Father Grimburrow glances at you, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your countenance. You have no doubt that he is now aware of your close scrutiny...but oddly, it makes him relax.
He is also genuine in his offer to go quietly should Theron choose to arrest him.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Thank you, Father. If you don’t mind, I really should deliver this book to Iona.
Good luck, Lem. He says it as if the words are strange in his mouth. They probably are. May the road rise up to meet you, the wind be ever at your back, the sunshine ever on your face, and until we meet again, may Desna hold you in the palm of her hand. He seems genuine in his completion of the traditional Desnan benediction.
Karrik wrote:
"Either you believe men have free will or you don't. Without the ability to predict the future (which most men lack the means), even a man acting simply out of cause and effect can only take responsibility for the effects of his own actions and their somewhat-immediate side-effects. To say the good-willed man generous enough to give food to a starving but wife-beating man who then someday turns out to be a mass-murderer is responsible? Unless the starving man was somehow broadcasting the man he would become… well… pardon my very-likely butchering of a local colloquialism…. it's horse-sh!t."
Father Grimburrow turns to the half-orc. Your points are well-made--from a philosophical point of view. Perhaps my rhetoric was ill-aimed. I am only human, and I am prone to making errors in communication and judgment.
But let us move away from the speculative rhetoric and into a more concrete example. You have encountered a man who is indirectly responsible, through his work, for the misery of hundreds. He is not an evil man, although he is misguided. You could turn him in to the authorities, but the case is murky, and the only way he would be certain to be convicted is through mob justice.
If, on the other hand, you leave him free, there is a chance he might re-offend--but also a chance he will be transformed by his encounter with you into a more benevolent citizen.
So what is paramount? The rule of Law? The man's own redemption? The safety of the public?
Is a spiritual or temporal outcome more important to you? To him? To the public? To the bereaved?
If your cause and effect argument applies here, Master Karrik, can the man be held responsible for the indirect results of his work--if he had no inkling of the potential results? What about when the public demands his head, saying 'he should have known', even if he didn't?
And what if he is an evil man--but everything else still applies?
And yet, on the face of it, your decision is a simple one: do I turn this man in, or not?
Life is more complicated than a simple sequence of black-and-white yes-no decisions. If you contemplate that, and think on the multiplicity of consequence when you make such decisions, then I will have achieved what I set out to do.
Father Grimburrow watches the Sheriff making his way toward the door. He seems troubled.
Raj:
Raj: you get the impression he has a soft spot for the Sheriff, but that he also thinks the man needs guidance.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
I think for this visit Lem would wear his priestly raiment with his parade armor, trying to look as "official" as possible.
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.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
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.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
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.
Dragomir Vuk wrote:
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...
Raj:
He seems...not bored, but like he is waiting patiently. Almost like he knows what's going to happen and is waiting for the right time to act.
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 (Lem's Will save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14--fail) 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 (Lem's Will save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15--fail) that freeze Lem in place, paralysing him.
Spellcraft DC 16:
The first spell was cause fear.
Spellcraft DC 17:
The second was hold person.
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.
Knowledge (religion) DC 25:
Idir is one of the yamarajes--psychopomps who control the flow of souls within the Boneyard. A yamaraj is a CR 20 creature and the highest-ranked of all the psychopomps.
Raj:
Father Grimburrow is obviously perturbed by something. You believe him when he says he's spoken to this Idir--whoever he is--but he is holding something back. You get the impression, though, that he is very much unwilling to share it.
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.
###
I am imagining it might take a few moments for Lem to recover from his ordeal. We will assume this part happens well after Sheriff Caeller has left.
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
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.
Walter:
When everyone has left, Father Grimburrow beckons you to sit down in one of the pews. My bones are not what they used to be, he says with the smallest of smiles.
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.
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.
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--
Father Grimburrow allows Kendra a few moments to compose herself, then steps forward. Thank you Kendra, that was most touching. Are there any others who would like to say a few words?
