6 Free Temple Of Tempest

Freeport has worked hard to soften its origins as a pirate haven, masking the often-bloody past with the facade of a robust trade city. Despite the efforts of the Captains’ Council and the Merchant District, some of the city’s least desirable elements, such as the pirates, are here to stay. They have even set up their own temple to Tempest, disdaining the elaborate rituals associated with the official one in favor of wilder ceremonies celebrating the free and chaotic nature of the sea.

Such observances to Tempest have been a tradition here, upheld by everyone from the whores in the Docks to the crusty salts that roll in from ships bearing the skull and crossbones. The darker aspect of Tempest, at least in the early days, was more like a spook, a demonic figure men needed to appease before setting sail. But as the city grew, and people flocked to its streets, free worship of Tempest started to gain ground and attract an actual following.

Decades later, the Free Cult of Tempest became the Free Order of Tempest, and people from all over the city gave the “priests” their coin and offered up prayers in the hopes that she would spare them her wrath. The other temples in the district kept their distance from her piratical followers, always keeping an eye open when one of them passed on the street. They secretly urged the Captains’ Council to ban it from the city, but the city leaders refused, themselves fearful of angering the goddess. And even if they did ban her worship, people would still make sacrifices since no one in their right mind is willing to risk her wrath if they stopped. So it seems Tempest is here to stay.

Tempest’s second temple might be amusing if it were not for her sinister nature. The temple is actually an old beached caravel dragged up through the city streets and left tipped on its side in the center of the Temple District. From the crow’s nest, the skull-and-crossbones flag flutters in the wind. The interior has been rebuilt to compensate for the angled floors. The hold, accessed from the street, is the worship hall, and it bears two rows of benches donated from pirate ships over the centuries. At the back is the pulpit, a huge intimidating tower fashioned from the bones of some sea monster. Every day, the minister of the order comes to preach fire and death, warning the congregation to live in fear of Tempest lest she visit misfortune on their heads.

Many honest sailors pay homage to the Free Order for two reasons. First, they know the goddess holds sway over the sea. Second, they want to avoid the god’s more fervent worshipers while at sea. They figure if Tempest is going to have her followers attack anyone, chances are better the targets will be non-believers.

The Free priests of Tempest stand out. They are almost all ex-pirates saved from drowning by some happenstance. As a part of their induction, they are each asked to come up with the gold to purchase an expensive earring. They wear this earring at all times as a symbol of respect. Anyone who finds a Pirate priest’s body and returns it to the temple—along with the earring—receives both the earring and the blessing of Tempest.

Prominent NPCs
Peg-Leg Peligro: The Free high priest of Tempest is an ex-buccaneer by the name of Peg-Leg Peligro. Father Peg-Leg, as he’s known to most, spent his younger years sailing the high seas, plying the pirate’s trade. During one battle, he fell overboard into a sea frothing with sharks, and one took his leg before he could be hauled out of the water. He swore to Tempest he’d dedicate his life to her is worship if he survived, and so far, Peg-Leg has kept his word.

Peg-Leg presides over huge masses at each of the city holidays, but he’s also been known to hold impromptu services in the Docks, usually in the most raucous taverns frequented by the roughest kinds of cutthroats. He’s tall and has a patchy beard and mustache. He has the eyes of a fanatic and a tendency to swear. He wears long black robes and the gold earring that signifies his faith.

Peligro did a brief stint on the Captains’ Council after the Law of Succession was repealed. The Council needed to fill the Privateer’s Seat, and knowing Peligro’s loyalties to the city, they pressured him to fill the slot. Peligro agreed, but as soon as his term was up, he bowed out, vowing he would never do it again—he’d rather swim with the sharks.

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