Evenings on the Transdarian: Cleric Versus Carpenter

Outside the city of Drache lies a number of cities, towns and provinces of varying size and populace. Most of the people living outside Drache are natives who speak Arangothian and observe the native customs and rituals. Click here for a list Arangoth's locales, and here to view a map.
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Pigasus
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Joined: Wed Aug 29, 2012 5:59 pm
Preferred Title: Setting Whisperer

Evenings on the Transdarian: Cleric Versus Carpenter

Post by Pigasus »

In which Pornoth is given license to doubt.

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Stolas Portnoth didn’t like clerics. The religious estate held no sacred value to him. His views on the gods were ambivalent: he was certain that the gods didn’t care and all the little human scurrying, sermonizing and empire-building was a worldly vanity to be mocked at every turn.

“Hey holy man,” he would say if a member of the clergy made his way into the bar. “Could Menxned create an argument so circular that even he can’t believe in it?”

The untested would flee. Country bumpkins were superstitious folks who would usually have someone like Portnoth for dinner. But he was known as a solid professional who didn’t drink or get into fights and always produced top level goods from his carpentry shop. He always charged fair prices. So, given the liberal breezes from Drache, they accepted his liberal attitude and even began to second it. Menxvan, of course, was beyond reproach. But the men who presumed to speak for him? Who did they think they were?

“Our mommy and our daddy,” Portnoth would say with a mock schoolboy excitement that sent his fellows doubling over with giggles.

Abbe Talorod looked on with concern. He ran a tight congregation once but now the people were starting to slip, incited by the carpenter’s heedless rambling. He didn’t understand, Talorod thought, that the whole point of the priesthood was to keep people on the right path and periodically refresh in them that very restraint that prevents the will of Menxruk: sin and violence. If things continued, the situation would get untenable. Talorod spent a few sleepless nights before he composed a letter to Tagrana and sent it off.

A few weeks later, an announcement echoed throughout the Landing and the outlying farms: the temple would be replacing all of its benches, lecters, railings and maybe even the roof. Templar Command in Tagrana authorized a transfer of sums to completely renovate the aging building, in response to Talorod’s persuasive argument. The amount of work for a single carpenter and the financial reward was unprecedented in the community.

When Portnoth came to the inn that evening, the taunts were already on people’s lips.

“Ay Stolas. Taking the temple contract?” the bartender winked.

Portnoth scowled at him. But that night, he couldn’t go to bed. The fact that he was the only carpenter in the area who was qualified to do the work somehow made it even worse. He kept hoping for the cleric’s humiliation. But Talorod sent a request for a carpenter from a neighboring town, a few days hence. When Portnoth heard that, he lost his appetite. The smirks on the streets goaded him on – they were never on his side to begin with.

An unhealthy week passed for the carpenter before he summoned the courage to dress in a dark cloak and come, in the dark of evening, to the steps of the temple.

“Vorfon Portnoth!” Talorod acted surprised. “Come in?”

“Thank you.” Portnoth looked uncomfortably at the holy seal displayed at the front of the chamber. “How’s everything, then?”

“Praise Menxvan, things are well,” Talorod said.

“Yes. Praise. Good.” The carpenter looked around once more and scratched his head. “So… I heard that the church was doing some… eheh. Renovations? And being the carpenter around here…”

Talorod listened as if it took him a moment to get the gist of what his opponent was saying. Then an indignant look crossed his features.

“You sir? But you are our number one apostate! If you were to do the work, it’d make a mockery of our solemn temple. No, it is impossible.”

Portnoth, who expected as much, dulled his eyes.

“What if I were to… you know…”

“Yes?”

“Become… You know. Part of the temple.”

Talorod squinted at him.

“The temple welcomes all who will stand on the path of righteousness,” he said. “But vorfon, being who you are, I must be certain you are sincere.”

“Oh. How do I do that?”

Talorod began to walk him through the various religious tenets. Portnoth struggled with the wriggles of a fish already snagged. The cleric’s heart gladdened as he felt himself reach inside and close his fingers around the carpenter’s pulsing heart. It was long past midnight by the time he finished.

“There is one more thing you must do,” he said. “You must pray to Menxvan and you must describe the sign that he gives so that we know your actions truly come from the right place.”

Broken and subdued, Portnoth stepped out of the temple and staggered home. Wanting to get it over with right away, he went to his knees and started up with a half-hearted prayer, knowing full well that the cleric’s humiliation of him was complete and that he probably wouldn’t get the job anyway.

“Nay, think not of it that way,” said a fellow sitting cross-legged nearby. “Judge it instead as a savvy investment.”

Portnoth jumped. “Who are you?”

The fellow, light brown haired, in partial armor, with a radiant young face grinned at him.

“The name is Naarundil, good artisan. Seek my name in the tomes of the faithful,” he said. “Irregardless. Wouldst it truly ruin thee to mumble some words every fornight? To feign thyself in yon cleric’s graces? ‘Tis not as if thou followest not the most important rules of righteous conduct.”

Portnoth was too surprised to deal with the apparition. So he considered its words instead.

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t” he said.

“Just so. The other carpenter is a mere journeyman and the temple shall suffer for his shoddy craft. Pride is poor reason for a roof collapse that may strike children!”

The carpenter lowered his eyes. But the young man held out his hand and grasped his.

“Tell Talorod my holy name and speak the words that I give thee. Then complete what is truly important.”

He spoke the words and vanished. Portnoth thought about his encounter until dawn, when he finally passed out. The next day, he went to the temple and became a member, starting on the huge renovation project. He works on it still.
Last edited by Pigasus on Wed Nov 14, 2012 6:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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