My role
in our campaign is the guy who dies a lot. Not that I actually die a lot, but
my characters die more often by far than the next guy along. There are three
adult and three minor-age players in the game and the DM makes a point of
focusing the stories on the kids. I think that’s a good idea.
About
the deaths, I’m cool with it. It’s like
playing the special guest star. It’s good to try out different classes and
different personalities and ways to approach situations. I can teach the
newbies different tactics and strategies that way.
When I
was handed the kernel of an idea for my latest guy, we knew he was a cleric and
they found him digging latrines for a refugee camp. He was the toilet cleric.
So
what do you do with a toilet cleric?
It’s been
established in this campaign world that at least some of the gods are the Norse
gods. Whether you’re dwarf or man or elf, you might have allegiance to one or
another of the Norse gods.
So
which Norse god would be the god of latrines?
I
looked over several lists of gods, demigods and giants and it seemed most
likely that my cleric venerates Frigga. She is the wife of Odin and the goddess
of hearth and home. (Norse gods are not worshiped like Christians might
worship, but rather venerated and paid homage to in a more purely-ritualistic
way.) And I have played with this cleric to Frigga for several sessions now.
He is
Lawful Neutral. He is into control and orderliness. His favorite spell is Hold
Person, because it negates some enemies without having to fight. Additionally,
once a person is held, it’s possible to negotiate from a position of greater
strength.
So I’ve
done a lot of thinking about this cleric and his theology. There is no real
theology to speak of in Norse history. They have a cosmogony – a story of the
beginning, middle and end of the gods – and possible rebirth, along with a
structure for Existence. But there’s not a lot of theory to go along with it. I
feel comfortable inventing my own.
My
cleric’s name is Robert Bluetooth, named after Harald Bluetooth Gormsson, who
was the king of Norway and Denmark in the 10th century. “Bluetooth”
in this case refers to his clean white teeth that look bluish.
When
already a middle-aged man nearing the sunset of military age, Bluetooth was on
a walk in the woods collecting pine cones. There he encountered a lesser
outsider – we would call it a hound archon. The outsider charged Bluetooth to
go on a pilgrimage to the mountains and to meet with Frigga herself in her
winter palace. Bluetooth was moved by this encounter with the otherworldly but
initially refused. So he was visited by a lantern archon, a more powerful
outsider. Only then did he begin the trek up the mountain.
It
took nearly a month. He climbed from one village to the next. Scathi, the
giantess who controls the snow, played tricks on him most of the way, but he
persevered. Three days’ climb out from the very last village, he finally came
upon Frigga’s winter palace. Lacking any evidence that he was expected, he
parleyed with the giant at the gate and was eventually allowed in.
Within,
he was received by Frigga. She was twenty feet tall and gloriously beautiful.
Upon a great feast of ambrosia and mead, she explained to him that Surtur was
coming for the people of the realm and that he was bringing the dark elf armies
to plague the lands. It was important for men to put aside their material
concerns in the face of the coming conflict.
“Surtur
wishes to expand his domain. He wishes to control all of Midgard. And in so
doing, remake it in his image. He believes he can create the perfect army from
the ashes of the world.”
“Why
can’t you stop him?” Bluetooth foolishly asked. “You are the goddess and he is
merely a giant.”
Frigga
smiled motherly. “Gods love and hate and rage and fight. We sing and feast and
mourn, just as men do. Giants do the same, but they are not eternal. They can
die in times before the Great War at the End of Time. But what we cannot do is
enter into the world without your permission. We cannot make you love us, and
we cannot force our way into your realm.”
“I
didn’t know that,” said Bluetooth.
“The
task of Men is to leave their neutral bent. They must choose up sides. For
Creation is not neutral, even if the children of the four elements are often
so. I’ve called you here to beg you to join the side of order. For if you do, I
may then join with you.”
“Why
me, goddess?”
“Believe
me, you were not my first choice. And you won’t be my last,” she said
cryptically.
She
explained to him then that there is rationality, an eternal spirit. It has
siblings as well: hatred, hunger and thirst, competition, lust, love, wrath and
inquiry among other things. And each god has one or more of these in his
portfolio. “This is why the gods can be eternal, for these ideals are
indestructible. And it is why you mortals are our playthings: you are controlled
by these base instincts in whole or part. Have you not been so controlled at
times?”
“I
have, goddess.”
“Not
because you are bad, but because you are mortal.”
“Rationality
is an eternal spirit. It is indivisible and indestructible. It is my purview
and my animating force – my logos, my cause. But it only exists, my son. It
does not act. The logos must be enacted by mortals. The cause must be put into
action by you, and men like you.”
“But
how? Will I be consigned to the cloisters and to poverty to think great
thoughts for the rest of my days? Frankly that sounds boring, goddess.”
“Not
at all. Cloistering yourself against the realm may allow you to master
yourself, but it will do nothing to destroy Surtur. Remember, this is the goal –
to preserve Midgard against the predations of the fire giant king. To allow
rationality to go from idea and ideal to affect, it requires mortals to make
sacrifice of themselves.”
“I
have always made appropriate offerings to you and the other gods. This you
know,” he said with some indignance extant.
“I don’t
mean incense, figurines and the milk of goats. I mean that you must give a part
of your soul to me. And in exchange I will infuse you with great magic with
which to change the world.”
Bluetooth
chewed some fat set in the fowl he ate with his bare hands. “My time upon the
realm of Midgard draws to a close in less perhaps than half a score of years.
Hel walks close. What have I now to lose? Valhalla? I’d rather serve at Frigga’s
side, per truth, than feast with younger men for all the rest of time.”
And
Bluetooth well agreed, and Frigga made him up into her champion – a cleric
given over to the goddess.
Frigga
is above all things a Lawful goddess. To master Frigga’s faith is to master one’s
mind. This means always telling the truth, no matter how it hurts you to do it.
It means to keep yourself from strong emotions to the best of your ability, and
to never act from rage, or worse, from lust. But the mind is most mercurial. So
the clerics of Frigga start literally by putting their houses in order.
This
means keeping every campsite tidy. It means perfecting hygiene. It means to
treat the sick and cultivate the land in ways amenable to Men. It means the
faithful will build houses for the poor, and work as woodwrights, stonewrights,
chefs. They build and civilize. And it means avoiding bloodshed when it’s
possible, especially among the people of the common kinds – hence, why this
Bluetooth uses Hold Person rather than flashier kinds of magic spells when he
can.
Frigga’s
magic has kept this cleric, Bluetooth, and his health’s improved as well.
Perhaps he’ll have a score of years to go before he meets with Hel.
But
not if Surtur hand his dark elf armies have their say.