Animated Gauntlet of Thunder
Tall, lanky, and frail seeming, Father Max’s balding head doesn’t quite look like it will fall off of his shoulders. Well, maybe a great gust of wind will send it, wisps of greying brown hair and all, rolling down a hill. His face is chiseled and craggy, and while not exceptionally unpleasant to look upon, his will never win him women. That’s fine by him.
The Good Father is usually dressed quite plainly, wearing black trousers and tunic of a strong peasant’s weave. A brown cloak is draped over his shoulder, concealing his right arms at all times, and he behaves as if he is left handed. Should he be deprived of his cloak, his hand, and indeed, his whole arm, will appear much the same as the arm of an iron golem. He will take great pains to keep from revealing the nature of his arm, however.
The Church of the Light has its ministers who reach out to the poor, the miserable, and the downtrodden. To those who are very most likely to turn to violence and cruelty in search of nothing more than their next meal. Father Maxwell Tesla used to be such a man. Years ago, as a young man, he was sent to the mountains of Gelesh to bring the word to those who eked a living out amoung the rocks. What he found there, however, were bandits. Numbering perhaps two dozen in total, the five from the band, including their leader, that set upon him as he traveled expected easy money. What they got instead was a righteous whupping, though it cost the good Father his arm. He chose to spare the men, on one condition. That they serve him, and through him, his Lord. Staring death in the eye, they agreed, planning to stab in in the back later.
What happened next, however, was enough to awe, and eventually convert not only those who Father Max bested in battle, but those bandits whom had been elsewhere. After many hours of praying for divine guidance, he arose in the center of the bandit camp, a powerful glow in his eyes. He siezed the right gauntlet and arm from a stolen suit of armor, and began to draw upon it in his own blood, one, a dozen, a hundred holy sigils, chanting each sigil as he drew it. For three days he labored over the armor, the eerie glow terrifying the bandits. In their fear, they attempted to destroy him, yet both blade and crossbow bolt were deflected by the increasingly powerful light that swathed him. When he was done, Father Max held the armor against the raw stump of his shoulder, and held the gauntlet up to the blue, cloudless sky as he shouted out to his Lord. The response from the sky was lightning. A single bolt descended to the gauntlet, settling down into it. And when it was done, he withdrew his left hand from the gauntlet, and the gauntlet flexed, as if it was the man’s own arm, for now, it was.
With the shock of the scene, it proved of little difficulty to sway the men to his side, and to his lord. And to them, Maxwell gave the Crusade. They would descend into the darkest regions of the world, and bring war upon the evil there. And once they had shattered the dark civilizations, they would rebuild them, bringing them into the grace of the Lord. This would be the price of his new arm.
To this day, the good Father and his bandits, whose population as grown with time, follow this Crusade. The Church admits to his existance, publicly denounces him, and privately does everything it can to aid him.
Father Max believes devoutly in the deepest part of his heart that he is doing the right thing. Who couldn’t, touched by the gods as he has been? Due to his near-absurd level of faith, he will never fall prey to a lack of morale, auto-succeeding on all checks against his morale. Further, his faith and confidence tends to inspire his companions, and the combination of the two are difficult to resist when he starts talking about your immortal soul.
Father Max is not particularly strong or fast anymore, and will instead rely on the power of his gauntlet and his clerical magic to win forth in fights. Of quite a high level, he will tend towards thunder and lightning as a means of attack and defense. He will also be swift to respond to serious injuries amoung his comrades. When the battle is won, he will generally tend he injuries of all the fallen, and if he should have any captives, he’ll try to save their soul.