Tom Berry

(a.k.a. Old Tom, Karma's Knife)

There are some jobs even the Bronze Ravens wont take, sir, and you have been marked. Put ourselves between Tom an' his target once before, no amount of money or magic will make me do it again. Don't know what you did, or who you did it to, an I dont wanna. There is a reason they say "If the flame burns red, you're better off dead." Good luck to you, but if you are still around come morning we will lock ye up for our own safety. Dont know if Tom has a good side, but I will do what I can to stay on it.

— Jasper Cameron, Leader of the Bronze Ravens

Pierre looked over his shoulder and let out a gasp. It was true, it was all true. Somehow, no matter how fast he ran, every step the man took brought him one step closer. Pierre turned and took off at a sprint again. The heat on his back growing with each second that passed, with each step closer the hooded man took. His back felt almost as if the flame of the lantern was being held right to it, that unnatural, almost cheerful looking blue flame. The woods around him were starting to take on a blue-ish tint from the lantern's light.
As he turned to look back over his shoulder once again, Pierre's foot caught a root, and he tumbled to the ground. Quickly rolling over, he scrambled backwards from the man who was now only 10 steps or so away.
"P-please, I dont know w-w-what I did, but I d-dont want to d-d-die," Pierre squeaked out, as the hooded man stepped ever closer, holding his lantern.
"Oh, Pierre..." the man said, pulling back his hood to reveal a kind looking, middle-aged face under well kept salt-and-pepper hair. "I understand the will to live, better than most will ever know. But if you hadn't run you could have died a peaceful death in bed back in Claymire. Your sins are not so great that I need prolong your suffering. Had my last job not taken me through Autumnrise, our threads would have never crossed." This last he said as he knelt down next to Peirre, the lantern staying hanging in the air.
Recognition dawned on Pierre. "The orphanage next to the church" he stated as much as asked. "I was just defending myself, they came at us with knives and a sword...."
"And because you never reported it the orphanage stood through the invasion and occupation, and the liberation that followed. Many more lives than just the orphans that were there that day were saved. You did what any good soldier would have done. As I said, your sins are not so great." The man let out a sigh as he stood up and held out his hand, "Come, this hill rises to a bluff with quite a view over the surround area, we should be able to catch quite a beautiful sunrise."
"I cant remember" said Pierre, hesitantly taking the man's hand, "why was I running again?"

---

As Tom stood, having removed his dagger and closed the man's eyes, he once again wondered what the lantern showed his victims like this in their final moments, to keep them so calm. The once blue flame had shifted back to a more natural coloring, shining out all sides of his lantern and shedding a cheerful light on the surrounding woods. "Come now, friend," Tom said, opening up one of the windows on the lantern, "It wouldnt do to leave his body for the wolves and crows, he deserves more dignity than that." At his words a spark jumped out of the lantern and landed on Pierre's body, rapidly consuming it while leaving the surroundings untouched.
"Dont suppose there is another job waiting?" Tom asked no one in particular, clipping the lantern to his belt. After a brief glance at the lantern he continued, "Of course not, never is when I end up in the middle of nowhere. Guess I'll just amble back to the nearest city. Its not like this one was on horseback for the better part of 3 days..."
Tom turned back the way he had come and started walking back through the night-shrouded woods, grumbling in his little bubble of bobbing lantern light.

Divine Domains

Judgement and Death

Artifacts

Tom's Lantern - placeholder text text text Quetzalcoatlus


Tom's Knife (Karma's Knife, Judgement) - placeholder text text text Liopleurodon

Holy Books & Codes

If his Flame burns Blue he's kind to you,
When the Flame turns Yellow, you've been a bad fellow,
Should the Flame burn Red, you're better off dead

— Faerie rhyme about Tom Berry

The fact that Tom is documented to be known by Fae, Dragons, and various extra-planar creatures puts some stock in his nickname as Karma's Knife.This makes it passing strange,then, that ss far as any gods, archdemons or other powers have been able to determine he does not possess any divinity himself.
Tom has no official temples, no priests, and while a cult has been know to pop up every couple of centuries that worships him, they never have lasted more than a decade or so. The above poem and the following annotated collection of rhymes and sayings is the sum total what we know or theorize about how his powers work:

• "Any flame from a wick is his altar" - This fragment from a library west of the the Tomokanga Desert appears to be true, as far as we have been able to determine. Oil lanterns and candles will work, however a campfire or torch will not. Altar is this case is used to describe an area where sacrifices are made, the nature of which will be discussed later.
• "An offer is made, a bargain accepted/ the price of a life often higher than expected...... but a life for a life is often the trade/an offer accepted, a bargain is made." - What little our order has been able to find out over the centuries lends some credit to these fragments found on a charred page in the smoking remains of a ship found on the island of Deepknight. As far as we ave been able to tell, the price of the life to be taken depends on the, sins I guess you could say, of the person. Tom's Lantern appears able to burn across the spectrum of visible light (Red-Orange-Yellow-Green-Blue-Indigo-Violet) from most most deserving of death to least, or for the economic minded of you, the prices range from low to high as one goes go from Red to Violet. As one progresses through yellow towards green is where "a life for a life" becomes the norm. Rumors persist of entire cults sacrificing themselves as payment to kill a child or saint to avert a prophesied apocalypse, but due to the prevalence of ritual suicide in such cults these remain only rumors. - It is also worth noting that there are several verified reports from the era of the Necromancer Wars of Tom's Lantern Burning with a Black Flame. We know that at least 2 necromancers and a lich were killed and their armies dispersed seemingly without a battle, it is our Order's belief that these "victories" can be fully credited to Tom.

Divine Symbols & Sigils

Mental characteristics

Mental Trauma

"How do you deal with it?" asked Maze Walker , looking at Tom. "How do you deal with millennia surrounded by death, constantly seeing the worst this world has to offer?"
"Ha! Thats what you wanted to know? My friend," Tom paused, seeing the glare the minotaur was sending his way. "I'm not laughing at you. Its just that I would think after, what, four thousand years or so you would have figured out some trick. I have an advantage over the rest of you, I know on what side my scale tips."
"Have I killed the innocent, yes, more than I like to think about, but I do what I can to make sure that they do not suffer. While my heart may be heavy with the act I know that their soul will be spun back out to a better life in the end. As to those more...deserving of my attention, well *sigh* you have seen. The fires of Retribution burn hot and are all consuming. I am aware of my actions, but I also know that I am not fully responsible."
"Did you ever keep track?" Maze walker asked, "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair, it just that even after all these years some mistakes weigh heavy and..."
"Two hundred twenty-nine thousand, three hundred forty-three" Tom interrupted. Seeing Maze Walkers dumbstruck expression he continued "It was part of the deal. Someone should remember those brought low by the Hand of Fate. How do I live with it you asked? Four rampaging dragons, minds lost to rage, twenty-three liches, 7 tyrants in the process of genocide, a handful of mad wizards, throw in the murderers and slavers, and those whose lives were taken as payment for the innocent souls that will be spun back out into the world in short order. And that isn't counting the times the flame burned white. As you well know there are worse things than death in this world, in some cases, I offer mercy. As I said, I am in a unique position to know exactly which way my scale tips."
"But, should it ease you mind..." Tom reached up and pulled some hairs from Maze Walker's head suddenly.
"OW! What are you.." Maze Walker stopped and stared as Tom opened up the shade of his lantern, throwing in the hairs in. They both watched as suddenly the flames shifted to a bright green. It remained that color for... Maze Walker couldnt say how long, a minute, a day, an eternity. As he watched, the flame shifted back to a normal looking yellow.
"There, you see," said Tom, "You may not be a saint, but few are. In your time on this world you have still done significantly more good than harm..." He paused. for the flame had shifted again, its color now a deep red. Both held their breath until the color became muted, the red light seeming to bend until it pointed off to the west in a narrow beam.
Tom let out a string of curses, some of which Maze Walker was fairly sure were in made up languages. "Duty calls," he stated more than asked, an amused look on his face.
"Aye, duty calls. Until our threads cross again my friend." said Tom as he turned away. Maze Walker caught him muttering, "Couldn't have done it two days ago when there was a forest to the west, or waited a few more days, nooooo. Better wait till Old Tom has to walk through almost 200 miles wetlands. Stupid lantern wont even keep me dry, stupid wetlands, probably have to cross an ocean too..."

Maze Walker could help but chuckle to himself as he watched Tom rapidly fade into the distance. "Thank you for you gift, my friend," he said, to no in in particular, for no one was around, "until we meet again." There was a sudden thump against his leg and an insistent yip. Looking down he grinned. "Oak! What trouble have you been getting up to my friend." He reached down and scratched the fox's ears, offering it a piece of dried meat from one of his jacket pockets.

Divine Classification

Avatar

Age

Unknown

Gender

Male

Eyes

Cold blue

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

pale, but healthy

Other Affiliations

• Wandering Immortals