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Like I said above, I don't think I have the right character for this campaign, so please assume Yraelzin fades into the background. I really enjoyed RPing with you all, and if I get some time I'll try to work up another character concept down the line.
I think I have a better understanding now of the issue—if it’s a well-known fact in the setting that Razmir is really just an evil wizard tyrant (the innermost secret of the faith) then there’s not really any mystery or doubt to stem a justified urge to stop the spread of the religion. A Razmiran character is only going to work on the premise that there’s enough secrecy, propaganda, and fear keeping all of this information about the faith and it’s methods from spreading easily and becoming widespread knowledge. Let’s move Yraelzin into the background, and I’ll see about maybe working another character concept up later.
I think things are probably going to be okay once we really get going with the adventure. As you saw with the battle against the slavers, I'll always have Yraelzin work with the group--his reasons or rhetoric might be different than theirs, but I'm not trying to sabotage anything. And for what it's worth, 99% of what I've been trying to do so far has simply been some flavour/background sort of role-playing--I know this isn't a homebrew kingdom building campaign where I'm going to amass a legion of followers. What I wasn't expecting was Brannart, a hard-core "anti-cultist" with apparently deep inside knowledge of Razmir's faith and a willingness to contest him at every turn. That's led to a sort of passive-aggressive PVP which I'm not really comfortable with. But I'm willing to see how things go for a bit longer. I understand that not every character concept fits into every group or campaign, and I can always save Yraelzin for somewhere else down the line in a different game.
Take a deep breath. Just like they taught you in Thronestep. The man in the iron mask kneels down and puts a gentle hand on the child's cheek. "Fear not, young one," he says soothingly. "The Living God cares for the newborn lamb just as he would a prize ram." Removing a palm-sized decorative mask from his belt pouch, Yraelzin presses it over the child's leg. The holy symbol begins to glow, and, miraculously, the girl's broken bones begin to meld together! Yraelzin gets to his feet, but then stumbles and looks like he's about to fall. He says to the crowd: "That child's fall. . . may not have been an accident! An evil force has come aboard this vessel, and is fighting a spiritual war against my efforts. Fueled by doubt and distrust, the power grows strong, and may undo even the divinely granted healing I've channeled this day! But I shall not surrender. Please, assist me in helping this child to her family's cabin. Faith and unity may yet win the day." GM: Yraelzin has used his Divine Deceiver trait to restore 1d6 hit points to the girl. These are temporary hit points and will wear off after an hour, but by then Yraelzin will have used Heal (with assists from others if necessary) to splinter the leg and administer any herbal painkillers the ship may have onboard.
Yraelzin claps Brannart on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. He then speaks to the crowd who heard his tale. "And here is one of the heroes of that vaunted mission, a boon companion who was at my very side as the first shots rang out! A fellow recipient of the designation 'Protector of Almas.' An Adoren devoted to freedom and justice for all, Brannart Teskerwill!" Yraelzin leads the crowd in applause.
The masked priest, looking imperturbable, joins the rest of the crowd on deck to wait for the sighting of the Arch of Aroden. This is going to be so exciting! To think there was once a time when *other* gods walked the land like Razmir does now! Soon, great monuments to him will be dotting the landscape as well! Well . . . back to work. Yraelzin helps the eager crowd pass the time by regaling them with a very exciting (and somewhat accurate) rendition of the battle against the slavers. His account focuses on the heroics of those he travelled with (Brannart, Nymbleth, and Fenna) with himself in a starring role as figuring out the location of the slavers and launching the rescue mission. And then, after recounting the stirring tale, he holds out his Boon of Desna and tells of the recognition ceremony with special emphasis on the assembled shouts of "Huzzah!" from the notables of Almas.
Yraelzin is mildly annoyed at the two priests shutting him out. Let the old geese gossip! They'll soon see their adherents slip away in favour of the Living God. Although an intimidating presence at first, the man in the iron mask pitches in as much as possible around the ship. He especially focuses on helping anyone who might be seen as an outcast in normal society--the poor, lamed, or disfigured--and offers words of encouragement. He even starts slipping them silver pieces from time to time, always accompanied by the same whispered words: "To help you get settled in our new home. The Living God sees you and cares for your well-being."
Yraelzin is lost in thought as Fenna strides away. Quite the charmer! She almost makes Hosetter sound plausible! The masked man scans the room before spotting the priests of Erastil and Abadar sitting across from one another. Yraelzin hurries over and squeezes into a spot near them. "Well met, fellow clergymen! Yraelzin, Priest of the Third Step of the Living God, at your service. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. As we'll be working hand-in-hand to set the moral expectations for this new colony, it's great we'll have a chance to get to know one another during the voyage." Occasionally, Yraelzin raises his mask just high enough to show his chin while he nibbles at some bread.
A couple of other things to consider is that most groups naturally shrink through attrition over time. This happens perhaps even faster with PbP than with in-person groups, and our number of PCs may be very different in three or six months than they are today. In theory, other possibilities would be to run two smaller groups through the same AP simultaneously (more work for the GM, though encounters wouldn't have to change from the books), or to solicit four volunteers from the present group for the "against the slavers" campaign. But each of those options creates complications too. Which ever way we proceed, I'm sure we'll find our rhythm and what works best as we go on.
Yraelzin lowers his head and whispers. "You read Hosetter? Me too! Though we're not supposed to! Isn't the problem with that sort of social contract view that it's completely fictional? I mean, it's not like people really agree to it or can opt out if they don't like it. And it doesn't make any room whatsoever for the traditions of a people or their faith. And Hosetter doesn't mention the possibility of an immortal, omnipotent guardian leading a society with perfect dispassionate justice! . . . You might be right about the mask, though--I didn't even think about the detrimental effects of all the sea salt in the air."
I think some brief RP-based story vignettes could be a good way to develop the group a bit further. And Yraelzin wants to learn more about these other priests anyway. (though I'm not recommending actual combat encounters or side-quests, as APs are already long enough in this format without a lot of extra material added in)
Yraelzin listens carefully to Fenna's point about the mask. He fidgets uncomfortably as he tries to explain--using, for once, a normal speaking voice instead of the booming "street corner sermon" voice he normally uses. It's actually hard to make out all of his words. "I . . . understand what you're trying to say, and I do appreciate the advice. It's just that . . . Well, it's hard to explain if you haven't taken the First Step. The masks demonstrate that we're all aspects of Razmir's guardianship. Those identities must be privileged over our more mundane selves. Have you ever heard of the rule of law? Well, the masks show that we act in accordance with his law, not just our own fallible judgment or desires." Maybe I was a little over-the-top with those Andorens. Awe of the Living God should incite obedience, not derision or rebellion.
Yraelzin strides down the gangplank to receive Tesk's gifts. Speaking loudly enough for everyone around to hear, he says "Your gratitude warms my heart, good citizen! Although you can never repay the Living God for the deliverance of your wayward children from the very clutches of evil, this token of your devotion will be put to good use. For I, a mere man behind this mask, prepare now to journey forward into the very depths of danger across seas both foul and fair. My destination, you ask? A new land; a new opportunity; and virgin ears who have never yet heard the glory of your divine protector. Fare thee well for now, and may you find comfort in the firm yoke of Razmir until the end of your days." And to think I was so nervous about all of this! I'm a natural! No wonder the church sent me on this mission.
GM, I really like how much detail and setting-lore you work into your descriptions! It makes me feel like I'm really in Almas rather than just a generic fantasy city.
Under the imperturbable mask, Yraelzin flushes with excitement. After hearing so many eye-witness accounts about how the faithful of Razmir were subject to religious persecution outside of Razmiran (and believing himself the recent victim of it as well), he finally feels like he belongs! I knew this time would come--but I never expected it to happen so quickly! To think, the Living God having found acceptance so quickly within the Andoren elite! Why, today a Priest of the Third Step like myself is celebrated as a hero. And in a year's time, I bet they raise a statue of Razmir to stand next to that effigy of Talmandor! How quickly the Living God works his will! I really wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow. But such are the burdens and joys of service as his Voice. Now, what do we have here? Gifts? Yraelzin pockets the butterfly-rock (resolving to ponder on whether using it would be blasphemous or not later), and selects a shiny new dagger from the armory.
Merreck, it's cool to see a character from Outsea in the group. My PFS undine psychic/monk is "Arrius Vext, Emissary from Outsea" and even has the "Outsea Native" trait. Outsea is my favorite section in the Guide to the River Kingdoms.
Yraelzin preens as he reads the letter. Documentary proof, as if tales of my heroism were not enough, of my leading role here. Yet more glory unto Razmir! And even as those drunken louts parade their foolishness in my presence, the seeds have been planted and will grow ripe fruit! Maybe I should have a message of my accomplishment sent to Razmiran? No, doubtless they'll hear in time. As Prime Mentrex says, 'Priests of the Living God are his Voice; but his Ears are everywhere, unseen.' When he has some privacy, Yraelzin polishes his iron mask so that it shines and makes sure his best set of robes are ready for the evening's gala.
Hey, if your PC wants to follow my PC around all day everyday, Yraelzin will happily invite the company—to him, the best way to get a street crowd is a lively debate. There’s no in-game consequences as to how successful he is, so it can all happen “off-camera” unless the GM decides otherwise. And for what it’s worth, Brannart saw Yraelzin decode the message to figure out where the slavers were, and was standing right next to him when he was the first to open fire when they refused to surrender.
Thanks for the prelude--it was a good way to figure out our PC's personalities. As a sort of "downtime" activity until the ship sails, Yraelzin will start preaching in the neighborhood where the kids, Egwenene, Perrin, etc., were from, operating on the basis that he's now built some "street cred" for effectiveness of the Living God. And like every good missionary getting ready for a trip overseas, he'll even solicit donations!
Yraelzin nods at the boy named Perrin. "Fear not, child. My acolytes are setting free others of your ilk at this very moment. Surely your sister is with them, and then we'll return together to find your oafish father. All hail the Living God!" Not bad for one day's work. Just think, I'm already making converts and haven't even left the mainland yet!
Yraelzin slowly shakes his head at the slavers' refusal to surrender. So be it. Assuming a dramatic pose, he shouts. "Great Razmir, let me be thy vessel and strike holy terror in the hearts of thine enemies!" A halo of awe-inspiring light surrounds Yraelzin's head.
Yraelzin stands astride the gangplank, a proud and commanding presence. Crap! That's a lot of slavers! Why didn't they give up when I told them to? And how did I end up involved in this anyway?
Thanks for the summaries--very helpful!
GM, could you give a quick summary of the situation on the boat? It's a bit hard to keep track with so many posts.
Yraelzin watches as the sentry falls dead from multiple wounds. I did warn him. "Those who fall to their knees in supplication rarely lose their heads." What verse was that?
Yraelzin looks over at the man standing next to him. What was this fellow's name? Well, no matter. "Swordsman, are you seeing this? That sentry is ignoring me! Sheer, unmitigated gall! Such an affront cannot stand! Witness the fury of an insulted Razmiran!" Aiming carefully, Yraelzin fires at the sentry!
The masked man calls up to the sentry. "That was a mere warning shot! Now, will you lower the gangplank or incur the consequences of further disobedience?"
Yraelzin shrugs off Brannart's attempt to get him to walk away. Instead, he shouts back at the sentry. "On whose authority, you ask? Are your ears as defective as your mind? On the very authority that supersedes all others, of course--Razmir, the Living God! And I'll have you know, sir, that your display of a weapon shall not sway me from my self-appointed task. Indeed, I have brought my own weapon, with which I will wreak holy vengeance upon all who resist my commands!" Yraelzin shows his own crossbow. "And it even fires underwater!" he adds smugly.
Yraelzin finishes finagling with his crossbow and listens to the others converse. Behind the mask, he smiles indulgently. Listen to them squabble! Without the Living God to guide them, they are lost like bits of cotton, blown on the wind. It appears that, once again, the burden of leadership falls on my shoulders. Lucky for them, I am not one to shirk responsibility. The figure in the grey robes stands up out of hiding and strides confidently towards the enemy ship. "Ahoy! he calls up loudly to the sentry on deck. I've always wanted to say 'Ahoy'--well, cross that one off the list! "By the powers vested in me by the Church of the Living God, I order you to lower the gangplank and stand by for inspection. Failure to do so immediately will be met with utter wroth."
Adjusting his mask, Yraelzin whispers loudly. "The swordman's rashness may provoke violence. But the devotees of the Living God are not unprepared for such things!" The man's voice gets louder with enthusiasm as he keeps speaking. From a satchel, he clumsily removes a strangely-shaped crossbow and fumbles with a bolt. It takes him a couple of minutes to get the weapon loaded. "It even works underwater!" he says, clearly impressed with the device.
Yraelzin crouches down behind the crates with the others and listens as Fenna whispers the need for a plan. Yraelzin whispers back, though the mask muffles his voice so much he's hard to understand. "Yes, I see the dilemma! Here's what we'll do. I'll approach, order them to surrender in the name of the Living God, they'll do so, and then you go collect the children while I admonish the miscreants and induct them into the church."
"Now, obviously, all we need to do is apply the instructions to the numbers on the back. "Take cargo to Silent Asp. Use planned route "B". So, a ship at the docks." The man in the iron mask starts striding in that direction, his robes swishing in the air, taking it for granted the others will follow.
"A simple code: "Turn Numbers to Letters. Alphabet backwards. Read right to left, bottom to top." Obviously, we're dealing with criminals suffering from severe cerebral deficiencies. Now, on to the next step."
Yraelzin peers intently at the document. "Ah, yes, yes, I see. Very interesting. Note how some of the letters are capitalised. Doubtless they relate to the numbers on the back."
Please don’t worry about me! It’s all part of the rping fun. As long as we make for a viable group when it counts, all the inter-character dynamics are what makes gaming great.
Just as Brannart finishes saying that, the man in the iron mask jogs up to them. He's obviously panting heavily from the exertion, and sweat stains are visible in the armpits of his robes. "I, Yraelzin, Priest of the Third Step, have decided to form a rescue party. I need all good citizens of this land to aid me. We start forthwith!" The masked man leans over to catch his breath some more. At least the grey robes are better than those awful black robes I used to have to wear! Hm, I wonder if there's a spell to turn back the heat?
Through the muffling of his hook and mask, Yraelzin can barely make out the sound of someone shouting about missing children. He finds the man and addresses him sternly. "Quiet yourself! Speak plainly and without deception: why do you fear for your children?" As Prime Mentrex said, 'To win over the poor, you must first show them just how indispensable you are--then, when they're ready to listen, the words of the Living God shall nourish their souls.'
The man in the iron mask wearing gray robes turns and strides directly out of the butcher shop. Now, let's hope I can find my way back to the ship!
Behind his mask, Yraelzrin wrinkles his nose at the stench. Pity how those without the enlightenment of the Living God must toil in such filth. Nonetheless, he pushes open the door to Renley's Meats and hands the order parchment to the first employee he sees. "From the bosun of the Peregrine. Make haste, but supply quality. A ship may take weeks to reach its destination, but the reputation of an establishment like this can circle the world in mere days." Perfect--just how the Prime Mentrex would have said it. Set the tone, expect obedience, and listeners will comply. People like this want to be told what to do because it saves them from the hard work of thinking for themselves.
His face flushing behind the mask, Yraelzin takes the parchment, and nods. "Very well, Bosun Raearg. I shall deliver this missive promptly. But I have noted your regrettable temerity in words and tone. In the presence of His Messengers, it would do well to remember that those who tread softly tread wisely." Everyone outside of Razmiran is so mean! the masked priest thinks as he strides away from the docks, forgetting he hadn't asked directions to the Tamuth District. And who would have thought the world had so many heathens in it!
Yraelzin strides up to the half-orc. "Hail, crewman! This emissary of the Living God comes now to say unto you: where are the quarters for the one known as Yraelzin, Priest of the Third Step?" The masked young man wrings his hands nervously behind his back. I hope 'crewman' was right. Maybe he's a 'mate' or a 'bosun' or something. Why do sailors have to make things so complicated?
A figure in elaborate clerical vestments and an expressionless iron mask emerges from the dockmaster's office. Some passers-by slow and stare, but in a city as large as Almas, and especially along the docks, there's far more exotic sights to take in. From the outside, it looks like the figure--a man by build--is probably waiting calmly for something. But behind the mask, sweat slowly trickles down Yraelzin's face despite the mild spring air and breezes from the sea. Ten days . . . ten days! he thinks. I must have confused the departure date. What am I going to do in this city for so long? Where am I going to sleep? The man opens a belt pouch and starts sorting through coins. Stupid! The Heirarchs gave me a stipend for the trip and I spent three-fourths of it on a fancy underwater crossbow of all things! Hopefully I can find a boarding house that's not too expensive. Yraelzin sighs, frustrated and apprehensive. And why doesn't anybody want to talk about the Living God? I think that one woman stuck her tongue out at me! It was never like this back on the farm or in Thronestep. The robed figure starts pacing back and forth. Maybe they'd let me sleep on the ship until it departs? What do they call bedrooms on ships--bunks or berths or something. Well, it won't hurt to ask. I guess it's like Prime Mentrex always says, "Razmir will show the path, but his faithful must still take the first step." The man in the iron mask approaches the Peregrine and looks around for someone in authority to speak to. |
