Lenharath The Kalashtar Cleric


In the darkness.
The silence.
I wonder.
Throughout my life, I’ve heard of dreams, tales of insubstantial vapors that weave stories in the night. I find I think about them often, just as I am resting my eyes. Resting them before I drift off into sleep.
Into silence…
I find myself eavesdropping when I hear others speak of them in passing. They make their dreams sound so inconsequential.
So common place.
So normal.
It hard to relate to them. Hard to relate to the others.
To the dreamers.
To their thoughts.
Those that do not understand the silence that consumes the night…
I push that thought out of my head, centering myself on my comfortable meditations.
For the sake of the Silver Flame I shall turn from negative thought despair.
For the sake of the Silver Flame I shall perform good deeds
For only by good deeds can we triumph over evil.
For only by good deeds can a good world flourish
One with happiness.
One with joy.
…Maybe one without silence.
I toss uncomfortably in my bed, rustling away the prowling silence with the sound of the church’s course linen against my body.
In the back of my mind I know the meditations are only biding the time…
Simply holding the silence away, not getting rid of it.
I can’t sleep.
I can’t face the silence just yet.
My mind drifts.
Thinking about what others describe they dream of….


“You have done well with your studies Lenharath.”
“Thank you Father”
I am a young child, walking with my instructor down the corridors of the halls of the empty church. Our footfalls echo in step, filling up the deep shroud of silence that hangs overhead…
“When Brother Edroin found you after the… incident… we were quite worried about you…” the word rolls of his tongue clumsily, as if he was worried about the effect it would have colliding into the midmorning air. He glances surreptitiously at my young form behind him, a soft cough testing the atmosphere after exposure to the volatile word before continuing, “…but you have made amazing progress in the short while you have been studying, your focus and discipline is simply amazing. I guess it is true what they say about your people. It is truly an honor to have one of you with us.”
“Thank you Father.”
He continues. He is a kind man. He knows very well my difficulty with the silence, and so he continues, helping our footfalls keep it at bay.
“I’m sure that you will find a home here, Lenharath. You will accomplish many great things.”
“Thank you Father.”


“What is happening here?”
I push through the gathering crowd in the city square, the emblem of the Silver Flame emblazed on my robe glinting in the midday’s sun and parting the gathered villagers of Thrane like waves breaking on the shore.
“Filthy half-breed!” the gruff voice reaches my ears as I make my way into the break… “How dare you tell me how I should or shouldn’t treat a mere puppet!”
I recognize the blacksmith, a foul smelling, short tempered man who justifies his wrath with his flimsy knowledge of the scriptures, picking and choosing what he wishes to hear. His hand is gripped tightly around his dirty hammer, the whites of his knuckles as intense as the rage in his eye focused on the half-elf women in front of him standing over the prone body of a warforged on the ground. Spittle flies freely from his mouth as he raises his hammer up over his head… “Filthy, dirty, ANIMAL!”
He calls them an animal and a thing…
Just like them…
I feel the rage rise within me unconsciously as I struggle to control it. My hand slips to my mace… It’s cool steel against my hand…
Animal… Puppet…
I am reminded of the knife… The soft grip of the knife… Sliding through my fingers… It's gentle reverberation running through my body…
My voice interrupts his swing… Interrupts the half-elf from reaching for her weapon… He wheels around quickly towards the sound of my stern voice, but it only takes a moment for his wild glare to dissipate when met with mine…
“Br-Brother Lenharath…” he stammers out, my heavy reputation as the only Kalashtar cleric of the Silver Flame and the youngest student to be inducted into the ranks of its prestigious clergy proceeding me here in Thrane.. “I-I was simply… I mean… She had no right to…”
My heavy boots crunch purposefully as I cross to stand between him and his two targets… My dark eyes focused completely as all the menace drains away from his body, his stature devolving sheepishly under my reproachful glare… “I-I am sorry Brother…” he bows humbly.
I turn around to meet the upturned eyes of the warforged and the half-elf. My gaze is softer to them, understanding.
“Please forgive our rudeness, my brother and sister….” My voice extends out to them at the same time as my hand, “I hope you are uninjured….”


“It appears you are awake…”
The lean, bandaged form in the bed stirs slightly at the sound of my voice…. His eyes flutter open gently… The restrictions of his cloth wrappings hindering his view slightly…
“A church of the Silver Flame here in the city of Thrane…”
His un-bandaged, curious eye falls on me as I turn the apple around the peeler in my hand….
“My fellow Brothers and I found you badly injured on the plain of the battlefield…”
He lifts his strange and ragged body up, fighting against the pain of his weary limbs.
“My people… Did any-?”
“I am sorry…” I interject quickly. Quickly before the oncoming silence could have had a chance to descend. “You were the only one that could be saved… I… I am truly sorry…”
As the weight of my heavy words fall onto his sinewy shoulders, his face is a complicated mask of nothing… His quiet reflective stillness sinks into the room.
My peeling grows a little faster, wringing every little bit of noise I can from it… I want to say something… But I have no words that come to my throat easily… No words of coping to tell this stoic man who has lost what was his life…
How can I when I have yet to find those words myself?
“Th-Thank you.” His collected words piercing the silence and my growing anxiety.
“Of course.” I breathe out as I rise gently, placing the small bowl of peeled apples within easy reach of him… “May the light of the Silver Flame guide your path to recovery, my brother.” I murmur gently as give him a soft bow… Closing the door and leaving the both of us to our own thoughts.

But also… Nightmares

“No! NOOO!”
My mother wails… Her tears mixing in with her struggles as she tries to free herself in vain from the coarse rope which binds us and digs into my wrists… Biting into my wrist…
The pain would be unbearable had it not been for the numbness I feel… The blankness… My mind once filled with fanciful flights of beauty and grace has gone quiet…
Deathly quiet…
Unable to process the image I see before me…
The two… things… in front of me sneer… Their rotten teeth visible under the curl of their pitted lips. They are not people… they are not intelligent…
I can’t believe that they could be.
My mind is numb… The images contort and twist their faces through the blur of tears as hallucinations of mind my mind contorts the reality in front of me…
It tries not to see my father… What is left of my father… His blood that stains the wall… The smear which seems to fill my vision… The pieces of him that are hanging out of his carved corpse… Lying on the floor…
Spread out…
Twisted and gutted…
His face…
Cut out…
Scooped out along with his insides…
A hollow empty puppet… No more words, no more life… Torn… Dead… Silent…
One of the monsters raises up the blood soaked knife… his tongue writing out of his face like a bloated worm to lick it clean…
“My, my, my… Listen to ‘ow the cow wails at the sight of ‘er broken puppet, eh Fredrick?…” his greasy voice cuts over my mother’s anguished cries as he begins to make mocking baleful moos. His souless black eyes twisted with hideous mirth as he looks down upon the two of us…
“How can you lissssten to itssss?” the second one interjects calmly, “The fucking animal isssss beginning to try my patiensssssce….” The snake that slips out of the second beast’s mouth mingles the creature’s own hisses in my mind as it falls to the floor… “Canst we shut itssss up bosssss?”
My eyes follow his gaze to the shadow in the background. The shadow against the wall… Black… Featureless…
Absorbing all color around him with the exception of his haunting, frigid, piercing blue eyes that survey the scene before him. Cool and calculating, dotted with a sprinkle of the mirth they feel.
He only gives a gentle nod. A tamer allowing his pets to eat…
“’Ell… Looks likes I’ll just ‘ave ta ‘ave fun with her corpse then…” the first pig mutters gleefully, his filthy snout twisting as he backs off.
He allows the second beast to come forward… Licking his knife…
I close my eyes….
The silence cut in, as sharp as the glistening knife that plays on the back of my eyelids… Sharp… Cold.
I feel the splash of something warm across my face.
Followed by the gleeful laughter.
“Hahahahahaha! Look at it spurt!”
“Sssssssssss…. Lookssss at the little calf… Hissssss eyesssss sssssshut tightsssss….” His chuckling whisper comes closer…. His venomous breath washing over my shaking body…
“Tsssssk Tssssssk. Don’tsssss lookssss away little calf…. You’ll missss the funssss….”
I feel something wet drop into my lap…
Wet… Heavy… Warm….
I can’t stop myself…
My eyes open up…
I look at the severed cow head lying in my lap. My eyes accept the lie. The lie feed to them from my breaking brain…
It can’t register what it really is. It will not allow me to see the familiar features contorted into something unrecognizable. Not allow me to see her frozen face screaming and crying…
Forever silent.
The monsters’ laugh continues. Continues as they pull me up roughly, gripping me tightly by the hair… the oozing sweat from their palms dripping across my face and mixing with the blood.
“All tha’ leaves is you, little one…” flecks of his spittle fly onto my face and turn into termites which bury themselves under my skin. His grubby claws begin to undo my rope, teasingly, confidently. “Whateva fun will we ‘ave wif you, eh?”
I don’t remember what happened next.
My mind went silent.
Turned off.
Switched off.
Plunged into blackness.
I only remember the fuel of rage filling me…
Only remember the feeling of my sharp teeth sinking into their putrid, oozing flesh…
The cool feeling of the knife’s handle in my small hands.
The soft silent reverberation it returns when it is plunged satisfyingly into flesh.
And over.
When the silence and hollowness of my mind rises, I am red.
Panting… Heaving.
The limp knife in my hand drops to the floor.
Drops next to the two animals’ disemboweled corpses.
The shadow with blue eyes is gone. Has vanished and disappeared with no trace.
There is only red.
Coating the walls, washed over everything….
There is only silence.
Only quiet.
Broken only when I finally scream.

I pull my mind quickly away from where it drifted, redoubling my effort to focus on my prayers. I need to be more disciplined.
More focused.
I don’t want my mind to go back to that place.
I calm my anxiousness with my prayers once more… Trying to push away the silence…
I can’t let it come again.
Cause in the silence the memories will come back…
And it will only end with a scream.
I rustle my sheets against my body gently, the cool feeling of the linen pulling me back to the here and now.
I have a task to do tomorrow and I need my rest…
My Brothers and I are being sent to the Lazaar principalities early tomorrow. I will be joining them.
I need rest.
My mouth moves almost unconsciously as I whisper and reiterate my prayers… My eyes closing gently…
Grudgingly surrendering to sleep….
To fall unconscious before I am aware of the silence around me.

Back to DnD Short Campaigns

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License