These events take place before Rise of the Obsidian Legion.
Upon our arrival in Mirabar we are lost on where to seek answers at first. Some leader Lithia Muun has turned out to be. This is why we need Prince Frost as the figurehead. As naive as he is, at least Amon had a good sense of people and what they could offer. I know this because he seen this in myself.
Randal points out a temple of his faith, asking if it is a problem to stop and offer his aid. None of us oppose his request. If anything I would like to see what these healers are capable of if this soldier turned priest looks to build a temple in Red Larch. We all know he can wield a sword, it is all we have heard since he got in the wagon.
The place is more of a hospital than any church I have seen. The wounded and sick are spread across the floor. Symbols of a sun dot the cathedral here and there. A small group of priest move frantically from person to person offering a golden glow from there hands. In mere moments the pain is lessened or, more importantly, gone.
In my time with The Restless Hand I have drank vials of liquid to mend my injuries but never have I seen someone do it themselves. It is a small wonder to behold. One by one, without complaint, they comfort those in need. Without hesitation Dundragon does the same once given permission.
If only Amon could see this. It seems we have found someone like him who places the needs of others above himself. The young prince would be proud.
The head of the temple ask us about our business in town. We hold nothing back. Henry and Lithia tell the tales of our deeds in Red Larch, how the foreign currency led us North. Then we start asking questions about what we had found in the tunnels. Any information can be useful.
In a heartbeat all the priests in the room have hands on weapons at the mention of the Bringers of Woe. Instinctively, I draw my cutlass and dagger. All who worship this god called Pelor do so as well.
Why would that name put them on edge?
Are these men in league with them?!
Has this priest from the North deceived us, leading us straight into a trap?!?
Henry’s shouting snaps me from my thoughts. Randal is doing the same. Both are screaming there is no need for senseless violence. Listening to their words I sheath my weapons. Though the healers seem a bit uneased at my actions they slowly do the same. Offering my apologies I think it is best I let the others do the talking.
As I exit the cathedral I notice something I have not seen since I was a child, an offering plate. These were common at my orphanage. The house mothers would have Jalina, Remy, myself and the other children standing on the street asking for donations from the townsfolk. Much like the one in front of me, we usually returned them empty.
Reaching into my backpack I fumble around until I find my coin pouch. I grab a handful and let them fall into plate. The clink of gold to steel pleases me more than the surprised thanks from those behind me. Their words are not necessary for I will always have a debt to those in need.