Medium Humanoid
Armor Class 19
Hit Points 78 (12d8 + 24)
Speed 30 ft.
STR
19 (+4)
DEX
14 (+2)
CON
15 (+2)
INT
10 (+0)
WIS
14 (+2)
CHA
11 (+0)
Saving Throws STR +7, WIS +5
Skills Acrobatics +5, Athletics +7, Religion +3
Senses Passive Perception 10
Languages --
Challenge 5 (1,800 XP)
Proficiency Bonus +3
Traits

Vow of Silence:

Brother Lernigan cannot speak but can communicate perfectly with sign language. He is immune to spells requiring verbal communication, and has advantage on saves against charm and illusion effects due to intense internal focus.

Silver Order Endurance (1/Short Rest):

When reduced below 20 HP, Lernigan can immediately regain 15 HP and gains resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing until the start of his next turn.

Battle Reflexes:

If Lernigan is targeted by a melee attack and not surprised, he can use his reaction to move up to 10 feet without provoking opportunity attacks.

Chain-Forged Gauntlets:

His fists are clad in heavy, inscribed silver gauntlets enchanted by the Silver Order—sacred symbols etched across the knuckles.

Actions

Multiattack. Lernigan makes two melee attacks with his gauntlets.

Punishing Fist. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., 1 target. Hit:  (1d10 + 6) Raidant damage.

Fist of the Order (Recharge 5–6):

Lernigan strikes the ground or a target with full force. All creatures in a 10-foot radius must make a DC 14 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone and take 10 (2d6 + 3) bludgeoning damage. On a successful save, they take half damage and remain standing.

Bonus Actions

Lernigan may attempt to grapple as a bonus action after hitting a target with Punishing Fist. While grappled, the target takes an extra 1d6 bludgeoning damage at the start of its turn.

Description

He stands a full head taller than most men, clad in full silver plate so polished it reflects firelight like still water. No skin is visible—only the gleam of metal, the weight of presence, and the quiet groan of tempered joints when he moves. His helm bears no sigil, only a smooth, featureless mask where a face should be.

He never speaks.

When he wishes to communicate, his hands move with practiced grace—signs ancient and liturgical, older even than modern Vistani tongues. Calista watches his fingers carefully, responding with nods or a short phrase, as though interpreting prayers or confessions.

Where he walks, even the Vistani give a respectful berth—not out of fear, but ritual.

There’s a stillness to him that’s difficult to place. Not unnatural. Not holy. Just… enduring.

Some of the younger Vistani refer to him as “The Last Bell”, though none explain why.

Shiberia

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