In the distance, flashes of lightning bathed the darkened sky in an electric glow and dispersed a pale blue light through the clouds north of Castle Adiart.
The wind began to whip up at the castle gates as attendants scurried about, attempting to secure anything of value that might be thrown about and damaged. The winds whistled through the empty alleyways and silenced the sounds of the panicked livestock.
From high above came a noticeable whisper, which grew into a loud chant. The King’s loyal subjects squeezed themselves into the chapel, and poured out into the hallway to get one last piece of wisdom from The Priest during the calm before the storm.
“In the name of God, we say his prayer:”
“God, protect us in our hour of need,” chanted the crowd in unison. “May you be charitable in you giving and humble in your taking.
“Let those who believe be affirmed and those who doubt, be without.”
The assembled crowd took their seats with the Royal Family isolated in their own section, but the wise Paladin sat front and center in the first pew. Those who were left standing pushed themselves against the walls in order to keep from blocking the sacred aisles of the chapel. The slight murmur in the crowed instantly died as the Priest regained his position at the altar.
“I can feel the tension in the room,” he said casually. “Fear not, my children. For acts of nature are just one of God’s many miracles. He uses such storms to remind us of his immense power and our own mortality. If God can rip the roof off of the old mill, like he did last summer, what chance do we have if we defy him?
“But at the same time, it shows his mercy. God chose to keep our roofs in tact. He allowed us to reap the benefits of the harvest, rather than wipe them out with disease. We, the people of Castle Adiart, are in his grace.”
The roar of thunder punctuated the Priest’s statement and the noise pulled everyone’s attention towards the tall stained-glass windows on the ceiling of the chapel. The pale blue light illuminated the crowd and painted ghostly, ornate images of the Lord’s book on their faces.
“You believe that he compels you here to pray for safety. But God does not simply save those who pray and ask for help. God saves those who save themselves and live their lives in service to Him.”
The Priest raised his golden chalice as another clap of thunder rumbled through the room.
“Amen,” said the crowd in unison.
The Royal Family joined the Priest and proceeded to take a knee in front of him, sip from the chalice and turn towards their private exit. When the Prince took a knee, the Priest leaned forward and whispered into his ear.
“A word tonight, my brother. Castle Adiart is finally at peace, but this storm brings many omens.”
The Prince took a sip from the chalice and nodded his head in agreement.
Once the Royal Family cleared, the wise Paladin was first in line and greeted the Priest warmly.
“Another inspiring sermon, Father. Your words give us strength.”
The Priest leaned into the Paladin’s ear.
“A word tonight, my brother. Castle Adiart is finally at peace, but this storm brings with it many omens.”
The Paladin took a sip from the chalice and nodded his head in agreement.
At the end of the long procession stood the brave Knight. He watched over the people as they received their blessings, and kept an ever-watchful gaze on the Priest. When it was his turn to receive, he took a knee and bowed his head.
Without anyone in the near-empty room noticing, the Priest swapped out his chalice for another. He leaned into the Knight’s earn and he whispered,
“By the Blood of Mithras.”
After the service, the Prince and the Paladin, the Knight and one nobleman met in the Priest’s sanctuary. At first, they listened to the Priest as he told tall tales of storms past that were handed down to him by the previous Priest. But as the group consumed more wine, their talk grew more animated and each opened up to share the favored myths and legends of their profession.
In a moment of silence between fits of laughter from the Knight’s tale of Olath the Offender, the red-nosed Prince stood up.
“Not all of the Royal stories end in such revelry, you know. My grandfather was a great King of this land,” he said with another sip of wine. “He was wise and merciful, yet strong and unyielding.
“The Cultists played on his mercy when they convinced him to pardon one of their own. They claimed he was falsely accused of stirring up disloyalty in the taverns. ‘He’s nothing more than a fool,’ they told him.
“In the shadows, they gained power. Their enemies were eradicated and the King’s closest allies converted. Even his trusted Butler turned against him. One night, marked by a great storm, they bewildered the King. He could not call for his guards when they came for him.
“As the story goes, this was the Cultist’s downfall. The King was so beloved that they were quickly rounded up and hanged for their crimes. But we must be vigilant, especially on troubled nights like these. The Cultists revel in the darkness. They breed in the shadows.”
“Dear, brother,” said the Priest as he poured more wine. “Those dark days are surely behind us. The Cultists have lain dormant for decades. Do you have any cause to believe otherwise?”
“It’s just a feeling, my Father. A Prince should never drop his guard. The Court Wizard and his ally, the Psychic, have grown quite close… and secretive. They have something planned, but they will not share it with me.”
The Prince saw the group quietly nodding in agreement.
“Join me, wise Paladin. We can put pressure on this treacherous duo and find out exactly what they are up to on this wretched night.
“We leave you to your revelry, my brothers. Do not worry about those who worship blood and darkness on this night.”
The Prince and the Paladin took their leave, bowing and making the sign of the cross on their way out.
With the door closed, the Priest poured the open bottle of wine down the drain and washed the blood-red water from his own tankard.
“Good work,” said the noble Cult Leader.
“Invoker, set out on your duties. This storm will not keep all of our enemies at bay, even if four of them will be occupied fighting with each other.”
“And you, my pious Ritualist, you have proven to be worthy of Mithras’ praise. I can only pray to Corax that my next servant will be so devout.
“But now that you have exhausted your powers, there is one final ritual. Tomorrow, you will make the ultimate sacrifice in His honor.
“The Will of Mithras ignites our fire. And when they find your smiling corpse on the altar, they will know to fear our strength.”
but wouldn’t it be a Lore Suggestion for Ritualist? I know Brotherhood is an Ability for it