Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Lux Tenebris: Sister Silma


SISTER SILMA, L15 High Priestess of Rasha
STR     07(-2)
DEX    08(-1)
CON   10(+0)
INT     14(+2)
WIS     16(+3)
CHA   17(+3)
HP       72

Racial Traits
Darkvision
Keen Senses
Fey Ancestry
Trance
Cantrip: Dancing Lights
Languages: Celestial, Common, Elvish, Halfling, Sylvan

Proficiencies(+5)
Armor: Light, Medium, Shields
Weapons: All simple weapons*
Tools: Calligrapher's Supplies*
Saves: Wisdom(+8), Charisma(+8)
Skills: History(+7), Insight(+8), Persuasion(+8), Religion(+7)

Feats
Shelter of the Faithful
* * *
Spellcasting
Divine Domain: Light
- Bonus Cantrip: Light
- Warding Flare
- Improved Flare
- Potent Spellcasting
Channel Divinity(2x)
- Turn Undead
- Radiance of the Dawn
Destroy Undead (3 or Lower)
Divine Intervention
* * *
Spellcasting
Spell DC:  16
Atk Mod: +8
Cantrips(5): Guidance, Mending, Sacred Flame, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy
L1(4): burning hands, faerie fire, Bless, Cure Wounds, Sanctuary, Shield of Faith
L2(3): Continual Flame, Lesser Restoration, Spiritual Weapon
L3(3): flaming sphere, scorching ray, Beacon of Hope, Dispel Magic, Revivify
L4(3): Banishment, Death Ward, Guardian of Faith
L5(2): daylight, fireball, Dispel Evil & Good, Greater Restoration
L6(1):  Heal
L7(1): guardian of faith, wall of fire, Resurrection
L8(1): Holy Aura

*Author's Note: Because of her background, Sister Silma never took part in Elvish Weapon Training. That Racial Trait was switched out for a Proficiency with Caligrapher's Tools.

Sister Silma is the aged and reverred High Priestess of the Temple of Rasha-of-the-Moon in the elvish city-state of Moonhome.
She came from humble beginnings, born to common parents.  Her birth was difficult and when Silma was born she was a sickly and frail infant.  Many of her parents contemporaries suggested it would be kinder, and more pragmatic, to abandon the infant to the wild.  Silma's parents did not heed this advice, and raised their daughter with care and love.
Silma grew up within the growing city of Goldsun. Because of her fragile health, she was granted a dispensation so she did not attend the mandatory military training most Goldsun elves undergo. Instead, she found herself drawn to a life of devotion. She became an accolyte in the Temple of Rasha, where she spent most of her days working in the temple's scriptorium, applying her talent for caligraphy as she produced duplicates of the temple's holy books.
However, even though Silma lived apart from the rest of Goldsun, she was not unaware of the discontent growing among the common elves of the city. The High King had already begun a program of repression against the so-called malcontents of the city. As time passed, the repressive tactics grew bloodier.
Distraught by these events, Silma sought solace and guidance in prayer. One evening, as she was praying, Silma received a vision from the goddess, Rasha, herself. The goddess instructed Silma to gather the unhappy elves of Goldsun and lead them north.
Silma was not the only elf in Goldsun to receive this divine vision, and in the visions of others the young woman was identified as the leader of this divine exodus. The reaction from the city's secular and spiritual authorities was immediate. The holy vision was dismissed as 'vile sorcery' and those who claimed to have recieved it were rounded up and imprisoned. Sister Silma found herself facing the fury of the temple's High Priestess, who demanded she renounce this vision. Silma refused.  As a result, the High Priestess ordered Silma to be locked within a tower cell until she saw sense.
Other visions followed, not so easily dismissed as the product of 'sorcerous malcontents' but the authorities continued their repressive policies. Finally, in an effort to pin the entire affair on a scapegoat, Sister Silma was brought before the High King and the leaders of Goldsun's spiritual community. She was ordered to renounce the visions as the product of sorcery, or she would be executed.
As the High King made his threat, however, the goddess Rasha intervened. Appearing in the court as a whirlwind of burning radiance, the goddess lashed out at her High Priestess. The woman was struck blind, defrocked and sent away from Goldsun by the goddess, to wander through the Underdark.
In a furious voice, Rasha ordered the High King to free Silma and the others he had wrongly imprisoned and to reflect upon his decisions lest she withdraw her divine favor from the elves of Goldsun.  And if she did that, they would all suffer a similar fate to that of her former High Priestess.
The High King immediately ordered Silma and the others free. They were given what supplies they requested and allowed to leave the city.
Guided by visions from Rasha, the party of about 1000 elves left Goldsun and headed north, through the dreaded Lirwood. Eventually, they stumbled upon the Feywild Path, where they encountered the benevolent Archfey known as the Shepherd-of-the-Leaves. He led the party along the path, through the Feywild, and back into the mortal world on the northeastern side of the Stonespear Mountains.
It was here, at the edge of the Braerosean Wastes and the Stonespear Mountains, that the group of pilgrims severed. The voyage from Goldsun had been hard and dangerous. Lives had been lost, in the Lirwood, in the Feywild. Some of the pilgrims expressed doubts and eventually chose to leave the group. About a hundred elves broke away from the group and chose to head south. Their fate remains unknown.
Silma experienced a crisis of faith herself at this point and sought respite in prayer and meditation. Eventually, she gathered herself together and led the group forward, into the Stonespear Mountains.
Eventually, the group discovered the valley where they would establish the community of Moonhome. The first winter there was difficult and many died, but the survivors persevered and the little community took root and began to grow. Unexpected help came with the arrival of the silver dragon, Hankatar, the Brothers of the Vine and then the wizard, Aureum Oduro.
Sister Silma had gratefully relinquished much of her authority by this time to the community's secular leaders. She still concerned herself with their spiritual health and development, but acknowledged the fact that she had no experience or talent for planning streets or negotiating trade contracts.
However, as Sister Silma began to withdraw from secular life, she was cautiouned by her goddess about leaving the elves to their own devices. That without her guidance, the community would become as insular and closeminded as Goldsun.
Silma hoped that this was not true, but saw what her goddess meant when refugees began to arrive in Moonhome. Most were welcome, but not all. And when the drow appeared, the city seemed on the verge of rejecting them outright.
Realizing she could not abandon her responsibilities, no matter how tired she was, Sister Silma solved the drow situation by donning her full ceremonial regalia as High Priestess of Rasha, walking through the streets of Moonhome to the city gates and formally welcoming the drow.
Her actions mollified the community and the drow were welcomed, despite some grumbling from the more conservative elements among the elves.
However, Sister Silma's actions have had unexpected repurcussions. Not just for Moonhome, but for all of Nur. Moonhome now finds itself upon the continent's political stage, advocating for greater tollerance and acceptance for all. A stance that has earned them new allies and some enemies among the regional city-states.
Sister Silma never intended to become a political firebrand or spiritual leader, but she now finds herself filling both of those positions.  She spends her days acting as a mediator between political factions, encouraging all sides to find common ground, and her nights in quiet prayer and meditation.
Her health remains fragile and there are some days she cannot leave the grounds of the Temple. Her accolytes, fellow priests and attendants fret and fuss over her, much to the sister's annoyance. She knows that she is old, but she also knows that she will not die, until her duty to her goddess is complete. Until then, Sister Silma will continue to enlighten those around her, guiding by kind example, supported by both the city-state that she helped establish and the goddess that she serves.

Friday, July 17, 2020

Today, A Haiku Story


Today was crappy.
I forgot to pay a bill,
and it made me mad

It just spun me out,
made me feel stupid and old.
My feelings ate me.

I came home and sulked.
Made a YouTube video,
vented to the world.

Afterwards, I hid.
I slid into my bedroom,
feeling poisonous.

I sulked and I stewed.
I played solitaire a lot,
and I watched YouTube.

Then I checked Facebook,
and saw that my day was good,
compared to others.

No one I love died,
I'm not a victim of hate,
and I have my health.

My day was not bad,
compared to some other's days,
because I'm still here.

Perspective is good.
It can be enlightening.
It can be shaming.

My day was not bad.
I forgot to pay a bill.
That's nothing at all.

Monday, July 13, 2020

Neon Haiku


Were you there that night,
When the lights died in Neon?
When the gods cursed them?

Did you see them fall,
the star-towers and sky-homes?
Did you watch them die?

The city's proud folk,
undone by their own hubris,
condemned to shadow.

No light can shine there,
not candle or torch or lamp.
Now darkness rules there.

But Neon lives on
in a peculiar fashion
of its own making.

Misery is gold.
At least when it's not your own.
Suffering is silver.

Folk come to Neon,
to gaze at its lost wonders,
to stare at its folk.

Some come there to hide.
Some come to be forgotten.
And some come to die.

Neon welcomes them,
as graveyards welcome the dead.
But some come and live.

Death begats new life.
Neon fell but it rises,
it lurches to life.

From the Water March
to the great Fallen Palace,
the city rises.

The merchants gather
in Downmarket and Gloom Street.
The city rises.

Priests whisper prayers
asking the gods for mercy.
The city rises.

In the deep shadows,
rogues go about their dark work.
The city rises.

The carrion men
sell corpses fresh from their graves.
The city rises.

Whores of every stripe
offer dark pleasures for gold.
The city rises.

Watchmen walk the streets,
alert for any trouble.
The city rises.

Urchins beg sweetly
from every shadowed doorway.
The city rises.

Adventurers come
braving the dark, hunting fame.
The city rises.