The Church of Kelemvor RP

[None]

In the dark winter night that followed, Elisia, Gaven, and the Guardian of the Ilmater Shrine could be seen leaving the graveyard with a woman in shackles. Her hair was short and dark, adorned in a dark iron armor. The gauntlets of the woman were shackled and chained as they made their way to the Flaming Fist. While this woman appeared to be in their custody for that time, the three were patient with her. They stopped when needed, and treated her well. While they could not abide by any of her protests, it was clear this was not what one would expect of an enemy. The tired Kelemvorite's empty expression was heavier then. For all of those that glimpsed the woman being taken in by the Flaming Fist, something was clear. This was not a march of a prisoner, it was a farewell for now for a friend.

After the woman had entered Fist custody, the three of them went their separate ways, and the tired despondent young woman sat before the frozen fountain where the vendors and artist had gone home for the night. There in silence she stared off the ice, back to a time where she didn't carry a familiar feeling. As the night turned into day, the snow dripped from her hood and past her face where she did not move. She never went home that night.

[Afendaria]

12 Alturiak 1362 DR

Over the next few days after the declaration that the Church of Cyric and worship of the Black Sun had been outlawed in Baldur’s Gate, a tired and grim-appearing Priestess Afendaria could be seen shuffling her way between various taverns and temples, constantly meeting and speaking with all sorts of individuals. Often she would end up in these places longer than she normally would allow herself to stay, but whatever she was discussing or talking over, she was persistent, gathering information and taking down notes, as if she was hunting for or determined to find something.

She had also started visiting the Flaming Fist Headquarters and had been going down into the anti-magic block during visitation hours, joining Elisia LeGande and Korwin Vhoss, two close fellow members of her faith who had been visiting a friend staying there for a few days already. Whoever they were seeing, they took up the entirety of all the visiting time they could, right up until the last second, ensuring that the one they visited with could not speak to anyone else, other friends or strangers alike.

Meanwhile, the dead scattered about in the Undercity’s winding caverns and walkways outside the ruined temple of Bhaal were slowly being collected. With permission granted to Afendaria and the Church of Kelemvor from their Graces, the remains of the Underctiy's dead were being moved to the Ossuary in the Shrine of Suffering. In a combined effort, Kelemvorites, Ilmatari, and other adventurers wishing to assist had started moving and preparing the dead for proper, final rest. Despite the plethora of rats and vermin that attacked them down in the Undercity, the Kelemvorites, adventurers, and Ilmatari would take their time to identify those they could by magical or mundane means and inform any of the dead's still living family and relatives about the end of their loved ones. Clerics from both faiths also offered final rites and dignity to all the dead they could not identify. Many skeletal and petrified remains lacked whole pieces, but even the bodies and bones that had been shattered and dismembered were also cared for with the utmost respect.

Work would take time, and many trips back and forth into the Undercity would occur over the next while. There were many dead, but slowly more of the deceased would find proper rest, those involved aiming for the dead to be placed right there in the Ilmatari Ossuary, other chapels' gravesites, buried elsewhere, or end up cremated.

[None]

Another day passes in the Flaming Fist prison. The same Kelemvorite as the day before remained quiet outside of the former Mortarch's cell. For the hour they spend together, Elisia is either seen watching the old stone floor or reading a book just out of arm's reach. Today she said not a word to the woman behind the bars unless spoken to. She remained lingering like a ghost. Perhaps in time, the Mortarch would come to understand her presence was more than a simple inconvenience, but the only comfort her friend could offer.

[Afendaria]

22 Alturiak 1362 DR

" I. . hate every.. rat . . on Toril. " - Afendaria to Nathaniel Collins.

It had been about a tenday, and work in the Undercity was nowhere near complete, but bodies of the deceased slowly began to filter their way up and out through the sewers and into the Shrine of Suffering, carried carefully by the hands Ilmatari, Kelemvorites, and volunteers alike.

Work was not easy, and the process was slow. Each body recovered was carefully wrapped in shrouds or other material for safe transportation after their remains had been covered in oils, fragrances, ointments and holy water depending on the dead’s age and state. Some of the dead were blessed on site, while other areas where many remains were discovered were often consecrated. Skeletal remains in pieces and shattered remnants of the dead were also treated with equal care.

On top of the winding, ruined tunnels which made carrying the dead even more cumbersome at times, there was also a constant myriad of rats that seemed to sneak up at points and small hordes of the hungry scavengers were often fought off by those more militant types that had joined the group collecting the dead. Ointment and medicine was requested from the Ilmatari to combat rat bites, and in case of disease be it from animal bite or through something the dead carried, the shrine also offered rest, recovery, and healing.

Miraculously, the area that most of dead were being retrieved from did not seem to be full of the vermin, though the odd corpse outside the area where the majority of dead had been pulled out from already surely had at some point met the rat hoard's voraciousness.

Between the ruins of the Undercity and the Shrine of Suffering there was also a section of sewer that those recovering the dead had to traverse through – many of the poor, beggars and outcasts who lived in their tents and lean-tos, fortunately did not interrupt the work at hand, seemingly preferring the company of the living, nor did those moving the dead interact with the destitute, both groups of people leaving each other be as worked progressed.

Within the Ossuary itself, clerics of both faiths were busy in both prayer and casting spells. Beyond slowly tending to and preparing each body through mundane means, spells and other methods were also employed to ensure anyone lost to the horrors that lurked in the Undercity could be identified. When they could, names, final rites and last wishes of the dead were noted, while the elements and causes of death was also taken down whenever discovered. Victims of crime and deceased criminals were also reported to the authorities when found while families of loved ones were notified of their late family members.

This process of gathering and preparing the dead for their final rites and rest however, would take time. Bodies took effort to wrap and get out from the depths of the city, followed by the lengthy task of further prep and the spells cast over the dead at the shrine. When it came to identifying the dead, clerics with their spells granted through prayer were only limited to call upon their divinely granted spells so many times per day. With the first tenday finished, there were still many dead in the Undercity and its ruins, and bringing the dead their final dignity would likely continue on for some time.

None of the dead would be forsaken, and the combined effort of the two faiths and the volunteers continued on into its second tenday.

[Afendaria]

29 Alturiak 1362 DR - Triel Becomes A Funeral Pyre

Work for the Kelemvorites and Ilmatari between the Undercity and the Shrine of Suffering continued on, though throughout the second tenday of the endeavour there were numerous interruptions that delayed some of their work. A strange incident involving some headless, single undead entity wrapped in barbed wire terrorizing the Heapside along with further reports of an odd and mysterious undead creature showing up in the Baldur’s Gate cemetery pulled some attention away from their tasks. Fortunately, despite the distractions, additional assistance in moving the dead up from the depths of the city came from a number of volunteers, including the strong Uthgardt Barbarian Alaric who created an impressive improvised sack out of a tent used to carry loose skulls, as well as the Triadic warrior known as Nathaniel Collins who managed to haul quite an impressive amount of bones out on his own.

Then, roughly halfway through the second tenday, Triel requested militant priestess Afendaria’s assistance to deal with a threat plaguing the village. Recalling how those of Triel had assisted in burying many of the dead in Winding Water the previous year, Afendaria answered the call. Unfortunately, disaster ultimately struck the village despite the efforts of many who joined in against the enemy threatening Triel. While villagers had been spared an early demise, many soldiers along with Triel itself went up in flames. Afendaria was able to perform a series of ritualistic chants known as the Lament for the Fallen for the soldiers who had perished in the hellish fires that tore the village apart. Although a burning Triel had become the slain soldiers’ pyre, and most of the dead were consumed in flames, a few bodies that had been spared from the inferno were found and wrapped in shrouds near a quarry. These dead were prepared and left behind for those of Triel or the Triad to bury or cremate following their own religious traditions.

After returning to Baldur’s Gate from Triel, work in the Undercity resumed, although an attempt by cultists of the Dark Sun to wreak havoc in the Wide during some sort of election and another assault near the Sea Tower District offered further distraction. Both attacks brought on by the Cyricsts seemed to have been foiled and two more bodies unrelated to the Undercity found their way into the Ilmatari ossuary, both taken in with care and treated with dignity.

Despite the grim task of constantly recovering the dead from the Undercity and having experienced the tragedy that befell Triel, Afendaria’s dreary, fatigued, and seemingly crestfallen state worn since earlier that month appeared to be improving. She had begun the mission in the Undercity looking tired and miserable, and yet, by the end of the second tenday of work, her demeanour had slowly seemed to be returning to what it once was.

[Afendaria]

7 Ches 1362 DR - Hellfire and Work's End.

Walking with her blue cowl wrapped around her lower arm, Afendaria moved slowly through the Heapside district, her destination being the Shrine of Suffering. Her gaze held an emotionless, cold expression, coupled with fatigue and a brow full of sweat. Off in the distance behind her, the smoldering remnants of what was once House Vale’s estate still billowed up into the air in grey plumes of smoke. She had heard the dragons and then screams, and then had seen the manor, twisted and torn, melted to ruin in that hellish fire.

While the Watch and other adventurers had scrambled about to maintain the otherworldly inferno that had quickly lapped up the estate, Afendaria had remained quiet and out of the way. She knew there was not much she could do, save pray. Pray that the new Lord of the Dead, Kelemvor would guide the souls of however many had met their early, fiery and brutal end within Lord Vale’s estate. Ignorant to the names and number of lives of those lost in that fire, she called for the Great Guide to shepherd their souls off to the afterlife, where they would find their new beginning. She did not linger long after her prayers, giving those scurrying about space to do their best in stifling the flames.

Now, passing through the alleyway behind the Shrine of Suffering, she tucked her blue cowl under a belt and began to open the grate leading down into the Ossuary, pausing only when she noticed a woman, sniffling and weeping off at the side. Afendaria turned towards her, pausing again when she heard the shuffling of feet making their way slowly and carefully up from the shrine. Stepping away, and dipping her head in silence, the Kelemvorite made room for some Ilmatari faithful, who had in their care a wooden coffin, housing one of the dead that they had found in the Underctiy’s temple of Bhaal. Eyeing the Broken God’s holy symbol that had been artistically carved into the coffin lid, Afendaria realized it must have been Ysolde Vann, one of the dead she managed to learn an inkling about through the Speak With Dead spell she and other clerics had been constantly casting and praying for in the past tendays. Lifting her head, she watched the procession, and the young crying woman approached the group with the casket.

“Mira.” Afendaria muttered to herself, recalling the name of the niece who had survived Ysolde. As the group wandered off down the alleyway with the coffin, Afendaria quietly wondered where the Ilmatari woman Ysolde would be buried. They had tried to bring her back, but few of the dead they had found could be resurrected. At least they could offer the deceased proper repose. Ysolde had wanted to be buried in a small plot with a gravestone, and Afendaria was sure that the Ilmatari carrying the casket away would see Ysolde buried properly.

Heading down into the depths of the Ossuary, Afendaria looked over the few remaining bodies that had been pulled out of that ruined temple. They had been prepared, but had not yet been claimed by family or other temples. After a brief look over, Afendaria made her way to a writing desk that was tucked away in the corner of the Ossuary. There, unraveled on the old wooden surface, sat her own work: names recorded of the corpses of those who had responded to their spells.

Her icy, tired gaze lowered to parchment, and quickly scanned over some of the recorded entries.

“Prina Duskhollow. May Kelemvor Guide their soul. Claimed she revered Mielikki above all other gods. Herbalist. Had a brother - Aldren Duskhollow, emigrated to Elturel, though current whereabouts unknown. No preferred method of burial.”

"Duskhollow may never receive family at her grave", Afendaria thought, ignorant in the funeral practices of Mielikki, "but at least the Mielikkian clergy, or druids, or whomever took care of her body, would offer finality."

She looked over another name.

“ Fernis Gravel. Great Guide keep them. No family. No preferred method of burial. Sweeper and refuse collector. No declared faith nor patron."

Faithless? Afendaria asked herself with a furrow of her brow, though she suddenly recalled finding a lucky trinket in the man’s clothing that had still clung to his dead body; a boar’s tooth. Luck? Would Tymora claim this one? Or would he meet the just and fair treatment of the Judge of the Damned? She was uncertain, but she sighed, knowing at least his remains were now in the best of care.

Scanning over a few more names, she paused abruptly as she read a particular entry that had struck her.

“ Halvren Moke. Unverified family. Burial. Cremation. Moneylender. Cyricist."

One of the corpses of the cultists that hated her and her faith had been recovered, and had responded to her spell. It surprised her immensely, for she had never expected the dead of those who so passionately hated Kelemvor in life to respond to one of Kelemvor’s clerics. She had guessed what Halvren was before the spell had been cast; his corpse had been one of the more fresh ones removed. Halvren had been marked with a damaged, dark tattoo of the black sun on his wrist. Perhaps Halvren had tried to scratch his tattoo off when Baldur’s Gate had banned the worship of Cyric? She was not sure, but she still tried to speak to his corpse, and surprisingly, had been answered.

Looking over her shoulder, she glanced down at Halvren’s corpse nearby, wrapped and anointed with holy water and oils. The dead man’s corpse had spoken to her through the spell, and had requested that he be “Buried where no one will find me”. But no. Cremation – she had crossed out burial after writing down the word. She would do it herself. It was dignified to cremate the dead, and she had no wish to let the man’s body of a banned faith sit anywhere in the city, especially after knowing what that wicked god Cyric had his followers do to their own dead.

Afendaria rolled up then tied a cord around the scroll and then rested her hand upon it for a quiet moment, the cool stillness of the Ossuary settling around her like a long awaited silence. The past three tendays had been filled with sorrow, danger, and the grim labor of listening to the voices of the dead, yet now the work was finished. Many souls they had drawn from that ruined temple of Bhaal had been given a name, a prayer, and the promise of dignity in death. That was enough. A small, weary breath left her lips, and for the first time in many days a faint hint of peace softened the hard lines of her expression. Kelemvor had guided them through the darkness, and she had done her part with the others involved. With the dead now entrusted to proper rest, Afendaria rose from the desk and gathered her things. The city above would continue its noise and turmoil, and with seemingly no further threat from this Hellfire Wyrm, wherever it had flown off to, she would return home, lay down her burdens, and rest - content that when dawn came, she could return not to mass death and ruin, but to the simpler, quieter duties as a servant of the Great Guide.

Or at least, that is what she hoped for.

After writing a brief missive meant to be delivered to Their Graces, and informing the Ilmatari that she was done working in their Ossuary, she waited for someone to come and help her carry Halvren's wrapped up corpse away.

//Thank you DM Smile for the randomly generated names / information for the dead mentioned in this post, and thanks for being a DM on BGTSCC!