These are Orcen Valingard insights to aid in NPC development. The DM is responsible for adding anything they want to enhance this NPC.
“What are the gods, father?”
“They are the means by which to live. They guide us and help us in their own ways. They create for us and we should be thankful and live for them. They are the overseers of this world and we are indebted to them all.”
“Do they have a ruler? A king or someone in charge? Who is the mightiest of the gods?”
Laughter burst forth from the father’s throat, loud and boisterous as it resounded off the walls of the cathedral. “My, you’re full of questions today. Why is it that today of all days that you’ve become so curious?”
The boy thought for a moment before responding. “There was a caravan that came through the Market today. Men in mail that shone like the sun walked besides a carriage. The people were talking about who was inside. Do you know, father? Do you know who visited? He seemed important.” Turning wistfully back toward the small statue ablaze with candlelight, the boy’s thoughts began to travel off. “I wish I could be that important one day.”
The father smiled, though it hid his pain. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to hold the tears back. They were tears of joy and sorrow, indistinguishable as they rolled down his face. After a quick prayer and a kiss to the statue, the father addressed his son.
“If you’re willing to learn, I’ll teach you about the gods, for to know one is to know them all.” The man ruffled his son’s hair slightly. “Now, kiss your mother good-bye, Orcen, it’s getting late.”
The small boy gingerly leaned forward and kissed the slate statue, the only remaining reminder of the mother who was.
Bah, late again. Where does the time go? I can’t seem to get enough learning in the day when it’s constantly being erupted by classes. Really, how do they expect us to learn anything? The Priests can’t teach us. I’ve found more in the first chapter of this book than I’ve learned about the gods in the last two years here. Besides, they seem intent on having us follow only certain gods, ones that they deem worthy. Father always said to learn one requires knowledge of the others. How can I try to understand people, let alone other gods, if I don’t become familiar with them or the practices? It is nonsense to be so, so damned selective. If people don’t try, they’ll never understand, and that’s where the hatred comes from. This seething, bitter hatred of anything that isn’t yours. It’s disgusting and ever present, even here.
Berathion. So that is where I am to train? That pleases me to no end as now I can come to know some many of the churches. But there is worry in going there. The stalwart mind, though a bastion for your cause, is designed to keep out thoughts that you deem poisonous. Here’s to learning.
I quite like the seaside air of Torin. The peacefulness of the ocean permeates into the people here. There is simplicity in it and magnificence all the same. To build a family of flesh and church, that would be ideal. To build and create, to foster and develop, to guide and inspire. That is what Father wished. Mother too. I will do this and carry on their beliefs. I shall do this.
The wars have returned me to Gimlora, and they have done little to soften people’s minds. Though I return empty, people have heard of me and my story. They offer their apologies and condolences. They turn away, pain of their tragedies on their faces, some too shamed to share. The flocks of people hurl themselves to the feet of Pelor, though they a likely desperate and not devoted. Healing has a way of clouding one’s mind to such mindless oversimplifications.
I have heard that Durian has wish to speak of me. Perhaps he needs a Soothsayer, and that I cannot help him with. I merely speak my mind, and the truth flows out. The people of Torin listened not because they wanted to hear, but because they knew my stories first hand. I have heard that this Durian is so disconnected that he’s more familiar with the ways of power than the people of his clergy.