Modo of the Peal Champion Lore
Few souls in the Kaerok city of Lutetia knew who rang the bells of its huge, famous cathedral. People traveled from miles away to hear the beautiful tolling, and the whole city worked to the hourly gongs that perfectly marked the passing of time. The cathedral’s priests refused to give a direct answer to any questions when people inquired, giving only ambiguous responses about Lumaya blessing ‘this most faithful city’.
One man who did know was Vadalk, a senior clergyman responsible for the cathedral’s day to day running. His predecessor had been a woman of faultless faith and kindness called Bertha, who had taken great care of him as a child. Vadalk loved her but was shocked when she took in an Ogryn baby she had found – he said it was naive at best, blasphemy at worst. She chided him, saying all beings were Lumaya’s creation. He bit his tongue after that, and out of loyalty did nothing to stop her. By the time Bertha died, Modo – as she’d named the Ogryn – was an adult, and living in the bell tower far from the eyes of priests and the congregation. Vadalk continued to protect him, but showed no kindness. He could not help but tell Modo he was impure, imperfect – part of Lumaya’s creation, yes, but a part so innately flawed even her magnificence was not enough to wipe it away. He demanded Modo be grateful he still protected him, at enormous risk to himself. Ogryn were not loved anywhere in Kaerok.
Modo’s task was to ring Lutetia cathedral’s bells. He did so with an enormous hammer, one he had made himself to Bertha’s praise, because the bells’ original clappers were broken. He was naturally strong enough to wield the tool and he performed his duty to an exacting standard. Not even Vadalk could deny that, though he gladly took the credit.
For years Modo lived a lonely life, taking what pride he could in his craft, his only chance at company the occasional visit from Vadalk. The Ogryn called the man ‘brother’, still, because that’s how Bertha had referred to him. Vadalk, sometimes, called Modo by that name also, but only when he wanted something or insisted the Ogryn do as he was told. Modo had learned not to ask for a chance to leave, to see the city he gazed at from his tower all day. The people seemed so small from up there. He heard them laugh and shout, watched them go about their business, whatever it might be. He longed to taste the food they ate, share in their jokes, play some of the games the children played.
Then came along a street performer unlike any other Modo had seen before. A Human woman, dressed in foreign garb, her skin kissed by the sun. He was captivated by the elegance and ease of her flowing movements, how happy she seemed, how natural and… herself… she seemed to be. So unlike him. Modo became dismayed, however, when as the days passed the crowd came to shout, throw things, and hurl abuse at her. These were the very things Vadalk had said they would do to him, for being an Ogryn, yet they were doing it to a fellow Human. When the mob’s actions reached a fever pitch after several days, Modo did something that went against everything he had ever been taught. Confused, angry, and fearful, he thought of Bertha’s belief in the importance of protecting the vulnerable to help him decide what to do.
Modo rappelled down from his tower, hammer strung over his shoulder, and shoved his way through the crowd to reach the dancer. Together they fought their way free of Lutetia and reached Esme’s people – a Krokhan Nomad Clan called the Dust Spirals – encamped outside the city.
There Modo was torn. Esme wished him to join her Clan, but everything he had ever known was in Lutetia. He knew deep down things couldn’t go back to the way they were before, and that this was perhaps his chance to experience the world he had been hidden from for so long. But still he felt afraid. When Vadalk rode out to the encampment and disowned him in front of the Clan, Modo realized there was nothing for it. He departed with them for the Krokhan Desert that very day and in the weeks and months that followed formed friendships, felt the spray of the sea on his face, and saw places he had never even heard of before. As a gesture of thanks to him, the Clan’s pyromancer ensorcelled his hammer, granting its head a fiery heart to represent the Ogryn’s burning sense ofjustice. Finally, Modo knew something resembling happiness.