Planescape
BELIEVERS OF THE SOURCE
(Godsmen)
Philosophy: All life springs from the same divine source, ascending and descending in form as it is tested.
Factol: Ambar Vergrove. Many critics of the Believers of the Source latch onto Factol Ambar's grandiose (and long-winded) discussion of his group's philosophy as a means ot deliver personal attacks. "He should stick to writing his little poems and tunes," Factor Komosahl Trevant of the Dustmen has been overheard to say. "He loves words so much, he doesn't realize he's not saying anything. I'd rather read transcripts of Factol Darkwood's Fated blather at the Hall of Speakers." Even some members of Ambar's own faction seem to agree. Though all new Believers of the Source are asked to familiarize themselves with their factol's writings, few can make it through all three volumes. Believers do like to sing Ambar's songs while working the forges, though, and his concerts for faction members always pack the house.
Factol Ambar is a half-elven planar ranger who guided travelers through the Outlands, invested in profitable ventures and built up a notable collection of artwork and musical instruments. His courtesy and kindness let him go far among the Believers of the Source, and as factol he is beloved by all his namers, factotums and factors. Most of them would lay down their lives at his beckoning. Unlike many of his followers, Ambar values individuals more than the philosophies they espouse.
Sigil HQ: Great Foundry (Lower Ward). The Great Foundry's two 10-foot-wide main gates never fail to impress a basher. The wrought-iron frame is as tall as most neighboring inns and houses, and each gate swings on hinges as thick as a smith's thigh. A glance at the jagged, massive metalworks (called just the foundry) nestled in its semicircle of stacks tells a body that a powerful faction indeed runs the place.
The Great Foundry's main yard looks dismal and dirty -- a gravel expanse surrounded by dingy wals and humped with piles of rubble and unsmelted ores. The roaring of fires and ringing of forges grows deafening after just a few minutes. Still, the imposing mass of the metalworks reaching toward the sky lends grandeur to its sodden surroundings. This brick edifice looms a full 10 stories tall. Huge, iron-mullioned windows flood its interior with light. Equally huge portals allow wains full of ore to roll inside.
Spending time inside this foundry building makes a body start to think that Baator'd be a nice place to cool off. Fiery-mawed furnaces the size of barns seem to yawn everywhere one looks. Pulleys bigger than the bashers working them span the rooms. Crucibles larger enough for an ogre's bath brim full of molten metal. Namers scurry about in the sweltering heat, bringing drinking water to the metal men. Some don't last long -- seems they decide they don't have a taste for dodging drops of boiling steel in air hotter than an oven.
The sheet-works, bar-works and mold-works are all just smaller versions of the huge and complex metalworks.
The council chamber atop the metalworks remains off-limits to namers. It resembles a terrace with a low stone balustrade tucked among a forest of chimneys. The chamber's enclosed by a bubble of glass panes supported by arching steel beams and iron mullions forged in the foundry.
The factors and factotums who supervise the running of the Great Foundry have luxurious suites atop the lesser works. Namer quarters are what one might call a bit more ... modest. They sleep in small closets in the clerks' residences behind the foundry, in the storage yards amid warehouses and piles of scrap. Their tiny spaces each do include a window, though, as well as clean sheets and warm quilts.
A small tiefling woman often chases down the animals that have found their way into the works; she moves at breakneck speed and always manages to capture whatever bird or creature she hunts, calming it with a few soothing words. She is Zena, a ranger whose specialty is animals. She loves any beast that runs, creeps, slithers, swims, or flies. Her case in the Lower Ward looks (and smells) too much like a zoo for anyone but her to stay there. Fellow Godsmen steer clear of Zena. Oh, she's attractive enough: A cloud of soot-black hair frames a face graced by high cheekbones, dark eyes, a thin nose, pointed chin, and pouting lips. She wears gowns of diaphanous gauze and ankle boots. But she can get intense. Most bashers quickly weary of her speeches on the suffering of animals and her mandates to treat one's feathered and fury brothers with compassion.
Also working at the foundry is a tall, brown-skinned voadkyn (wood giant) blood named Ombidias, who takes new recruits under his wing. He's gentle and slow of speech, but strong. Despite his factor status, he always seems to have a moment for namers needing guidance.
The Godsmen also oversee a barmy asylum called Harbinger House.
Home Field: Ethereal. Ambar's palace is a study in perpendicular gothic executed in polished steel, rather than stone, on an island in the deep Ethereal. Ambar dwells here with his factors and many factotums and namers who labor in the Great Foundry. High-ups hold conferences and issue orders to factotums here.
Allies: Athar, Doomguard (temporary ally)
Enemies: Bleak Cabal, Dustmen.
Namer Abilities: +2 on reaction adjustments with planars.
Restrictions: Can't be Raised or Resurrected; priests of specific deities suffer -1 to all saving throws.
Archetypes: Achiever, Egoist.
Faction Information: The Godsmen have been through several incarnations in the past, from Perrine the mangrel-hurler to Augy of Faunel of one thousand reincarnations ... from mathematician/musician Luce, who propounded the Music of the Multiverse, to current factorum druid Basdank's arguments against the Godsmen's placement of dogs and zebras lower on the ladder toward the sublime than humans and elves.
Godsmen find they can rely on a network of people for help in a pinch; an innkeeper here, a farm wife there, a loyal monk, an herbalist, a castle guard ... in the Outlands and on most Outer Planes.
Considering their extroverted natures, it's no surprise that most Godsmen join the faction to help others "evolve" and see their own potential. Believers hate it when berks act apathetic or resigned toward the multiverse -- they'll tolerate bashers who become selfish and wicked, but not those who lack interest in self-improvement.
Despite their concern for others, Godsmen insist a basher learn from his mistakes, and they won't interfere in "life lessons." Sure, a body can count on a Godsman to help out in a pinch, but the blood'll never rob another of a learning experience. Of course, some Godsmen figure some sods have more potential than others, so they have no qualms about contributing to the tough "education" of those who come up short.
Having what looks like a compassionate outlook doesn't mean a Believer has to espouse the principles of goodness. Many Godsmen are evil (wanting to inhibit others' progress toward godhood) or neutral (professing that noninterference in others' lives allows the multiverse to do its best work).
A Godsman has two preoccupations: his own progress up the chain of evolution and the progress of the rest of the bashers in the multiverse.
To join, a body tells the guards at the Great Foundry that he's interested, and before he knows it, he's sweating rivers in the wire-works or one of the others. If the back-breaking labor doesn't send them running. these namers can seek greater involvement in the faction by asking a more experienced member to sponsor them.
Namers serve informal apprenticeships with these mentors, learning the rigors of Believer philosophy. When a mentor considers his protégé ready for a factotum's responsibility -- to seek the inherent value in all -- he presents the namer to a factor for evaluation.
The candidate then undergoes a series of tests: unusual puzzles or challenging tasks, specifically tailored to probe his fears and limitations.
Godsmen's reputation for a consistent lack of prejudice makes them well-received throughout the Great Ring. They gain a +2 bonus for all encounter reactions with planar beings.
THE CHANT: Bashers whose brain-boxes're soaked with memories of past lives stay shy of the Great Foundry. See, Godsmen love to catch new subjects of study and pump 'em dry -- especially of death memories. 'Course, they give a body a bit of jink for the trouble, but most say the gold ain't worth reopening the dead-book.
The Hall of Speakers seems a safer spot to see Godsmen up close. Right now, the Dustmen propose a bill to "let the dead stay dead." They consider research into past lives obscene. Passage of their bill means it'll become illegal to exhume the memories of the dead.
The Harmonium supports a mandate giving themselves the right to destroy any printed material distributed without their approval. The Athar, with their piles of leaflets, feel most threatened by the motion, but the Godsmen don't like it any better. They figure that acquiring knowledge, written or otherwise, is the main way to evolve. Besides, what if the Hardheads decided they didn't approve of the biographies and journals of past lives in the Great Foundry's records chamber?
Zena just got back from Torch with a vampire bat on her tail. She killed this pursuer at the main gate of the Great Foundry and spilled a few indiscreet words to the guards there before reporting to the factol. Seems Zena discovered a magical shroud in one of the gate-town's spires: a shroud newly acquired by a dozen Dustmen. A berk wrapped in the shroud's folds longer than it takes a basher to fill his lungs six times is dead, never to be reincarnated. That's no shortcut to the unknown sublime, either; the sod would have NO chance to ever ascend!
