The Tower of Luck stood like a beacon against the dreary wintery night; golden motes of light drifted like snowflakes from the peak of the tower to float silently along with most any passersby joining them on their walk through the dark cold city streets. It was not the warmth or protection of daylight, but the companion motes did well to improve the demeanor of the Sea Ward.
Inside the Tower golden banners hung from between the fourteen columns that circled the outer skirts of the inner rectory creating a lose ring around the worship proper where several people sat in silent prayer. Each golden hanging bore the heraldry of each registered noble family: Amcathra, Cragsmere, Ilvastarr, Roaringhorn, and a newly installed Cassalanter tabard. Upon the U-shaped altar another golden cloth, this bearing several universally recognized symbols of luck and protection, was unfolded for tonight’s sacred but dower prayer-vigil.
From a well-worn leather case Martin Luckjoy, High cleric of Tymora, carefully removed and arranged the deadly tools he would need for tonight’s gruesome work. With careful reverence he placed several silver pickets upon the golden cloth, each stake engraved with runes of both life and death.
Whispering the words of greater blessings Sai Luckjoy produced two wooden mallets; hammers made from the limbs of the great Grandfather Tree and a pure silver dentol seven inches long. Next came vials of water to be consecrated, measures of tamaie, as well as many unknowable alchemical components, garlic, holy soil, and of course his holy symbol and prayer book.
Martin looked up meeting the gaze of the Avatar who held Tymora’s power, like a bookmark in a celestial tome of the heavens, and bade her to consider the items so placed before her.
“Vampires have come to Waterdeep Lady, the undead cannot be allowed quarter regardless of risk. The light of too many lives have been forever extinguished- death is a truth yes, but undeath is lie and an abomination.” Martin said resolutely. From the gathered folk, someone fainted at the mere notion of vampires.
“Give me leave I beg so I may cleanse the city of any and all undead poised to visit their atrocities on the goodly folk. Time is precious to us and with each passing night I fear their numbers will grow beyond even my abilities to control.”
Heilean Eather, Avatar of Tymora, smiled a lovingly at Martin and to his genie compatriot who also shared Luckjoy’s far-reaching loathing for the undead. The gesture was sisterly in nature but the act made his heart soar with renewed faith and devotion in his tenants; both he would surely need in the coming nights.
“You have been a trustworthy cleric Sai Luckjoy; devoted to your faith and calling. I would not stand by and watch vampires inaugurate themselves while we struggle and toil at other war-fronts.” Her tone was impassioned and laced with divine power. Cries of ‘hear her’ and ‘you say true’ resonated from the praying folk.
“Go Sai Luckjoy and with thanks, but before you go I would see your devices sanctified with the divine aspects of our Lady Luck,” she said picking up each tool and weapon from the golden cloth. “In these devices I place the Goodness needed to overcome evil as well as my Protection in your sacred hunt.”