Thomkin Ballyforth sat at the bar in the main room of the Traveler's Rest Inn after hours, getting quite drunk. Being transported to the twentieth century and back again can be such a strain on the body and soul, you know.
"Gads, that stupid wench is going to have to write her own silly articles from now on. I can't handle all this dimensional travel anymore. You hear me, Erica?" he shouted at the ceiling as he took another swig. "I'd like to see you in MY neck of the woods just once. Heh, heh, heh, you wouldn't last a day. I could see it now. What would you and your friends do if you came across a real, live orc? Maybe you'd throw dice at it, or maybe a rulebook or two."
"Shut the hell up, you lunatic. I'm trying to sleep," shouted Theresa the barmaid from her room upstairs.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Thomkin looked up, startled. "What kind of fool knocks at the door of a tavern. It's not as if the door were locked, after all. Come in, for heaven's sake," he yelled at the door.
The knock was heard again. "You're gonna make me get up, aren't you," he called at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Aw hell," he said finally. He jumped unsteadily off of his stool and walked over to answer the door. "What, what, what!" he shouted as he opened the door. A young girl in a bright orange and red robe stood there, smiling down at him benevolently.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you believe in Mitra?" she asked in a sweet voice.
"Do what? Who are you?" Thom stammered back at her.
"My name is Foxglove Morninglory, kind sir. If I could have but a moment of your time, I'd like to tell you about the glorious wonders of Mitra, the sun god. May his name be venerated throughout the heavens."
"Now look, honey, if you want a room, you can come on in. Otherwise, we're closed. Okay?"
"Oh, no sir. I don't have money for a room. I'd just like to speak to you, if you wouldn't mind. Perhaps you'd like to see some of our literature."
"I'm going to bed now, lady. Be a good kid and go away, won't you. Good night."
"But sir, if you would only listen to me for a ..." she said as Thom slammed the door in her face. He turned around to stagger toward his room, but before he had taken two steps he heard a noise behind him. He looked back just in time to see a parchment being pushed under the door. He stared at it blearily for a few moments. "Ah, why not," he said finally as he bent to pick it up. "I could use a few laughs before bed."
Foxglove Morninglory
Neutral Good, 2nd level cleric of Mitra (Mitra's portfolio: sun, growth)
Human Female, 20 years old
5'9", 127 lbs.
Str 11 Con 15 THAC0 20 Wis 16 Dex 10 Hp 18 Int 12 Cha 17 AC 5
Weapon Proficiencies: Quarterstaff, Morningstar
Non-Weapon Proficiencies: Agriculture, Healing, Herbalism, Musical Instrument (Hammered Dulcimer), Read and Write Common
Languages: Common
Equipment:
Chain mail, Quarterstaff, morningstar, holy symbol (yellow sunburst design on a black background), brightly-colored robe, tunic, breeches, belt, riding boots, backpack, 4 small belt pouches, 1 large belt pouch containing various religious tracts, water skin, iron rations, writing ink, quill and paper, scroll case, soap, flint and steel, bullseye lantern, flask of oil, 50' silk rope, pony.
Comments:
Before we discuss Foxglove, I would first like to tell you a little about the deity she worships. Mitra is a sun god, especially interested in the aspects of the sun relating to growth and life. His followers concern themselves with agriculture and the nurturing of all life.
Helpful hint: I adapted this deity from the god of the same name in Indian (as in India) mytholgy. The main sourcebook I used for information on this god was TSR's "Legends and Lore" game accessory. More ideas can be found there on how to play a cleric who worships a similar god to this one.
Mitra is the new kid on the celestial block in his particular pantheon, and as such, he doesn't have many devotees. Therefore, most of the few followers he does have are on a mission of evangelization and conversion.
One of those few followers is Foxglove. Foxglove Morninglory is not her real name. Her new life as a cleric of Mitra has been such a dramatic change from her old one that she thought a new name was in order to go with that new life.
Her real name is Elizabeth Steward and she is the third daughter of Baronet James Steward and his Alisa. She lived a pampered childhood until age 10, when the family manor burned to the ground during a peasant rebellion. She was taken away by one of the peasants and spent several years in forced labor as a servant girl before she finally excaped from her cruel master and made her way back home.
She found that her family had rebuilt and were once again prospering. They welcomed her back gratefully and tried their best to pretend that she had never been away. She found that she could not follow suit. She couldn't escape the feeling that she was no longer worthy of such splendor, and she often secretly wondered when it would be taken away from her again.
A handsome young missionary for Mitra came to the door one day when Elizabeth was 17. The rest of the family had gone to the faire at a nearby town, but she had told them that she wasn't feeling well and stayed at home. She invited the cleric in and spent hours staring into his blue eyes while he talked about his faith and his life as a holy man. When he asked her to forsake her decadent life of luxury and join him in the cause, she leaped at the chance to start anew. She departed with him that very day without even leaving a goodbye note for her family.
Liz, or rather Foxglove, enjoys her life as a cleric, and the challenges it presents. Her faith is a bit weak and shallow, however. Her main focus is on the cleric who first introduced her to the faith and impressing him with her acts of devotion to Mitra. Foxglove is more motivated by her love for him than her love for her deity.
(c) 1997 by Erica Woollums