Waldere Elvery

As Anshan's local priest of St. Cuthbert he is radicalized by Ashford’s failing faith, Waldere is a raging alcoholic. The village church is rarely visited now, except by a few worshipers who are led in their devotions by Waldere Elvery.

Curate of St. Cuthbert in Anshan • stern comfort, frayed by drink

Square stone, swept threshold, kettles clacking beneath the eaves. Inside, the curate stands like a pillar behind a plain altar: big frame under modest clothes, old scars at the throat and wrist, a limp he ignores. His eyes weigh you, then the door, then the bellline outside—as if he keeps count of how the world is held together.

Snapshot

• Role: Parish priest, oath-keeper, reluctant bulwark against the marsh’s weirdness
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral (law first, then mercy)
• Class/Level: Cleric 3 (St. Cuthbert)
• Look: Broad-shouldered, scarred, hair cropped short; walks with a slight limp; hands like a mason’s
• Vice: Quiet, grinding alcoholism he fights and loses by turns
• Presence: When sober—concise, commanding; when slipping—voice goes hoarse, eyes red but proud

Personality

• Public face: Stern comfort and strict mercy. He will bind a wound, then bind a promise to do better.
• Private fracture: Drinks to sand down the doubts left by Ashford’s failing faith, the manor’s fall, and funerals he spoke too young. He hides it well—until he doesn’t.
• Creed: “Law is the floor. Stand on it. Mercy is the roof. Earn it.”
• Tells: Knuckles tap pews in fours; eyes track doors and windows; he quotes scripture without flourish.

Background in brief

Waldere fought across the Flanaess as a sellsword turned templar—scarred in skirmishes and sieges, saw good men fail when rules bent. Tired of the road, he petitioned the Cudgel’s hierarchy to raise a parish at the marches. With the Church’s blessing he built this square stone and promised to keep it square. The marsh, the manor, and a decade of thin harvests tested that promise.

Daily rhythm

• Dawn: bells and broom—he keeps the porch clean himself.
• Midday: patrol blessings, rattle-strings for homes near the stream.
• Evening: short homily, long listening. On bad nights, the bottle in the vestry “helps him write sermons.”

Relationships

• Captain Para Roanik: mutual respect; she brings facts, he brings witnesses. He’ll co-sign a custody writ if the Borderers do.
• Kornel Tesár (Swine Pits): ironclad allies on levy days; duel in proverbs the rest of the week.
• Old Aggy: wary détente—“He nails the floor; I mend the feet.” He won’t undercut her cures; she won’t mimic his rites.
• Alstons (Mill): he trusts Sherina’s ledger and Praen’s planks.
• Harl Ashford: sorrow without patience; buys him food, not drink.

What he wants

• The bellline never silent; the bridge and boardwalks kept up; the village back under regular worship and work.
• Proof against pirates/steel-runners and elemental remnant nonsense—so he can preach facts, not fear.
• Someone brave enough to make Mirewatch livable without superstition.

Hooks & scenes

• Witness the Oath. He’ll solemnize a Writ of Custody for Mirewatch if the party presents Borderer recognition.
• Bellline Repair. Before the next storm, he needs help restringing kettles along the eaves (slick-roof skill scene).
• Sanctify the Hush. With incense and help, he can sanctify a 20-ft space in Mirewatch for ten days—as long as the PCs keep a noise ward active.

The armor (secret the players can spot)

A successful Spot/Perception DC 15 notes a suit of plate on a stand in the nave’s far corner. It is well-oiled, scarred, and sized to him. If asked, Waldere nods:

“Mine. A sign I will defend this place—man or giant.”
On dire days he still straps it on (limp and all).

Running Waldere

Play him blunt, practical, and brave—a laborer in faith whose hands are as useful with a hammer as a holy symbol. Let the bottle add pathos, not farce; when he’s sober, he’s the wall. When he slips, he still locks the door, trims the candles, and leaves a note on the altar: “Back at dawn.”