Jerek - Conversion

[Obsidian Sea]

The beating heart of Sarshel city is its south quarter. Although the bustle of the city square provides the excitement of new encounters and foreign opportunities in equal measure, as does the city's harbour, Sarshel's sincere constancy is in its south quarter. Traders and 'proper' folk consort here, often to the exclusion of the adventurers that of recent times have made the city their hearth and hub. Aye, the south quarter is a hub of a different kind: a place of legitimacy for the long-term and already-acknowledged national achievers. And it is here to which the once-Paladin of Sune, Jerek, is called.

In the midst of the drinking houses, offices, and trading parlours of Sarshel's south quarter, an unremarkable hovel is easily missed. Following the route of vines along the walls, and regulations of picket fences, one might only find the residence of Brother Hrull by accident. His is a modest place of lodging, not fit to compete in standard with those of the city merchants and lords: but in virtuosity, his tenements might be unrivaled. Lacking the company of his wife, Kelda Adler, Jerek has been instructed to go and meet with Brother Hrull, who has earned the respect of his colleagues despite his odd and reclusive disposition. Why Brother Hrull would be deemed suitable to speak with the esteemed Cormyrian warrior about his conversion to The Crying God is, as yet, unclear, but it is what is requested of both parties for the meantime.

Upon his arrival, Jerek is not offered the most comfortable seat in the house - for there isn't one. Without asking or even desiring it, he is handed a small cup of tea that must be cupped in both palms to be held properly. It would burn his palms, one thinks, but alas the tea is only lukewarm.

"What compels you to come before The Crying God, pleading service?"

It is the first that Brother Hrull has spoken, and judging by the way the man's weary eyes now rest upon Jerek's person, it is the last that he intends to speak for some time. Jerek has the floor.

[Toros]

Jerek takes his time responding, taking a long sip as he does so. Ilmateri are not given to impatience. He rests the cup in his lap, his expression open.

"I believe that love is one of the most powerful emotions, but it comes in many varieties. Romantic love is prone to being self-serving, as it is tangled in lust. It is often also fragile, and can fade or be broken. The love of a parent for a child, or for one's people is different. It is unselfish, unconditional. Pure.

Ilmater suffers greatly for the weak, the downtrodden, those who cannot help themselves. I see in his mercy the same pure love.

Ilmater's teachings state that he does not care what I look like, how I dress, whether the home I live in is beautiful or not. What is important is what I will endure to end the suffering of others. Some of Lady Firehair disguise themselves when doing things that may make them filthy, as if such tasks were beneath them. The weak, the hungry, the downtrodden don’t have the privilege to worry about such things, nor did I once. I found in Her a way to reject the horror, the despair, the fetid conditions of my youth and replace them with beauty. Wisdom is knowing that beauty does not fix; perfume cannot replace a bath. I do not enjoy the smell produced when lancing a boil, but I endure it because I can see the relief on the faces of those whom I can help. Their suffering has ended, and that is what truly matters.

I also do not want to be separated by death from my wife, who in her greater wisdom saw the truth in Ilmater's teachings first. Lady Firehair almost certainly could provide wonders beyond my wildest imagination, but nothing I value half as much.

My life has been spent learning healing, how to understand the nature of others, and how to bring the cruel to justice. As a healer, warrior or as a paladin, I will use what I have learned in Ilmater's name."

[Obsidian Sea]

Brother Hrull spends little time in deliberation over the truth of Jerek's words.

"There is a place that has haunted my sleeps. A remote disaster; an isolated deformation upon this nation and upon the world as Our Lord Upon The Rack would have it be. I see fragments of it that go beyond the abstractions of sleep - fragments that are visions sent to me by the Lord. It is a place wherein lies cruelty to man in its highest form.

"You must think and consider the oaths that you must take, Jerek of Cormyr, now of Impiltur, and consider that which must be forfeited to serve Ilmater. We are a humble stock. We lead by humble example. In us, the people of Impiltur must not see the impossible, but rather they must see the determination that every man must adopt, and the naked will to do more for others than we do unto ourselves. You must think why you have been sent to me, mustn't you? To Brother Hrull, of all the Priests that Ilmater keeps."

Brother Hrull chuckles; it is a dry-mouthed, often silent thing.

"They are beginning to call me a recluse - aye, I know they do. I know they do. Perhaps I am. Distance from others, young lad - hear this - distance from others has not thickened my tongue, and it has not thickened my eye. Do you hear what I mean? Spending time alone, I have not forgotten language, nor how to read those that use it. Proficient diplomats; idle beggars; each man can be read. I see the Good in you, and I see that you are a man of integrity. Willingly, you commit yourself to Our Lord Upon The Rack. And I shall tell them so that ask me.

"Go: consider the oaths you shall be taking. It must be a modest life that you lead henceforth, Jerek. In the eyes of men, you must be as a lump of clay; unremarkable, plain, but a vessel and a means to make the greatest possibilities possible. I will aid you, young lad. I will rest. I will commit myself to my bed, and rest forevermore until in my nightmares I have received my visions, and know the location of the place that haunts me. For it is there that you must go, with allies whom you trust, and in destroying the evil that therein lingers, you shall have done right by Ilmater, and proven to Him your resolve."

//OOC: Anticipating the continuation of this storyline serverside at the next opportunity available to us both.

[Obsidian Sea]

The death of Brother Hrull rests heavy upon the shoulders of many within the Sarshellan Church of Ilmater. Representatives of the other faiths that comprise The Triad are sympathetic, but estranged by the sentiment of grief that is shared between the Brothers and Sisters of Ilmater: for Brother Hrull had become an odd and reclusive man, known only to come to the temple on the second Sunday of every month, and to go very few places besides. His faith was never questioned, however: not by his Brothers and Sisters, and not by Ilmater.

Plans are made for the burial. Brother Hrull's body is brought to the mortuary. It is one day after the news of the man's death, at mid-morning, when the gate is raised upon the city, and through it enter seven beleaguered travellers. They carry themselves with dignity, but it does not belie the fatigue set upon them. Sister Kelda; the Wood Elf, Kallian; the warrior, Anton; Bors, Half-Orc; Celith Galiner, of the high places; a Half-Elf by the name of Onnerick, and Jerek, formerly a Paladin of Sune, now fallen.

They may go their separate ways when they reach the gate, yet they seem interchainéd by a sentiment despite the distance, until they all recede to their privacy, away from the view of those who are ignorant as to all that has passed between them.

When dusk comes, a humble ceremony is held: it is not the burial of Brother Hrull, but the acceptance of another man into the church. Jerek, the Paladin of Ilmater, comes forth from the temple that evening, accepted by the Priests of the faith as their warrior, and their champion. And more significantly, he is accepted by Ilmater Himself, and deemed worthy of the task.

The ceremony is unlike those that may be held for a Paladin of Tyr, or Torm. The temple is not bedecked with the holy light of prayers and ritual invocations, nor do plated warriors stand to attention. Robed men and women stand reverently all around the church, looking kindly upon the man who comes before Ilmater there. Jerek kneels before an altar concealed beneath a threadbare cloth, and lit only by the light of the candles that flank the centre. He prostrates himself before the statue of Ilmater, and the Brothers and Sisters of the faith join him as a chorus, silently praying for his acceptance. The feeling of Divine accomplishment enriches Jerek's body as the hour draws to a close; it is fulfilling, and yet commingled with a trace of sadness; of morbidity. Much has been sacrificed to reach this point, and much has been accomplished - things that one cannot wish upon another man and still call himself a man. And though there has been great achievement, there is a certain sense of obligation and trial promised to follow, for suffering reaches across Faerûn, checked only by those with the bravery, and the faith to throw themselves upon the sword that might kill another man. As a Paladin of Ilmater, Jerek shall be as the rocks on which the waves crash, and break, with faith and humility his greatest weapons. Our Lord Upon The Rack gives everything to the protection of the world, and now so too shall Jerek. The Great Work continues.

//OOC: Thank you to everybody involved. It was a pleasure to DM for you all. Please feel welcome to post your IC responses to the event in this thread.