Hemo's Oath: Give pain meaning.
In the past, a small group of black-robed figures labored to raise a new church on the outskirts of our town. Its dark, spiked architecture loomed like a thorn in the earth, unnatural and foreboding. It was the Church of Loviatar, they said—the Maiden of Pain.
The village shunned them. We avoided the path leading to their growing sanctuary, and clutched our children tight when we saw their figures pass by, cowls shadowing their faces.
Yet, they didn’t leave. They continued their work with a silent resolve.
Months passed. The air of mistrust festered, but life carried on—until the raiders came.
You stumbled out, thinking perhaps you could run or help someone. However, all it did was make it easier for a brute to spot you.
Then he appeared.
Hemo Heark. His monstrous visage burned itself into your mind: scarred skin marked with crimson patterns, a twisted crown of horns, and eyes like embers glowing in the dark. His black robe flowed around his muscled frame, but his hands gripped a cruel weapon—a barbed flail dripping with fresh blood.
His strike was quick and painless. He wouldn't give the brute the clarity of pain. The demon then turned to you, and for a moment, you thought you might be next. His monstrous face showed no humanity—yet his voice, low and rumbling, was calm.
“Get to the church,” he said, his words firm but not cruel. “You’ll be safe there.” Without a second though, you ran, and despite its fearsome appearance, it was still a church, a sanctuary, for all the weak and defenceless. Clerics tended to the wounded, while warriors braved the threats outside.
The next few days were a blur of painful memories, but none more pained than him, Despite his wounds, he still focused on you primarily. “Pain is inevitable," he once told," But pain without meaning is a waste. What you suffered today—what we all suffered—was not meaningless. It forged you. Never forget that.”
You stood by the doors of the Church, wanting to meet and thank him somehow.