As Kaer performed his morning devotions, chanting the praises of the great Aroden, his mind briefly thought of the perversions he read in the “holy” tome of Aroden found on Molric’s corpse. Quickly turning his mind back to the task at hand, he wove the needs of the party into his prayers, petitioning his lord for the power to protect and heal those in need, to bless and strengthen his allies. He felt the hand of his god pass over him and envelop him filling him with … a cold dread?
Something wasn’t right here. And then the voice rang within his head, icy and unforgiving.
“I grant you the strength to drive your enemies before you, to cast fear upon the weak, and to call down my wrath to smite the unworthy. Slaughter or enslave all those not of human blood.”
The voice fades and Kaer collapses shivering.