"Its not our job to decide who dies. Its our job to make sure they're loved ones are comforted, their affairs settled, and, most importantly, that the dead STAY dead. Don't read too much into it, son, or you'll overwhelm yourself."
-Father Ruben Castigaan
Before the calamitous Time of Troubles, Ruben Castigaan was a cleric of Myrkul. This is no secret. He and some of the rest of his clergy were absorbed into the faith of Kelemvor after his ascension to godhood. Ruben has operated as his faith has guided him and has never strayed. Regardless of the name of the deity, Ruben has served death. Little has changed for Father Ruben since Kelemvor's acquisition of the portfolios of Death and The Dead. He is still the slightly melancholy, yet friendly cleric that was an eccentricity during the days of Myrkul. Now, he projects the true will of the god of death, with his easy manner and slightly stubborn ways.
The temple of Kelemvor in Selgaunt, Sembia, hasn't had many changes either, aside from the recipient of the many prayers that echo in its halls. It still bears the original grim and macabre architecture when it was built for the church of Myrkul, and many of the older clerics (former priests of Myrkul) still serve within its walls. Some have given up the old ways; creating undead and dealing death as they and their god saw fit. Those that haven't are truly pitiful things to behold. The transition was not as smooth for all, and Father Castigaan was forced to fight often and hard against those clerics whom opposed the new dogma.
Ruben has few friends within the clergy, choosing study and solitude over companionship. He is singlehandedly responsible for the formation of the Crusaders of the True Death, a sect of Kelemvorite crusaders and knights devoted to hunting undead and to champion their victims. With the changing of times one thing will always remain a constant; everything dies. Father Ruben sees it as his and the Crusaders' duty to enforce this sacred law.
His days before service to the cloth are seldom spoken of. It is surmised that he was once married and may have had children, but he is quick to change the subject should it arise and takes special interest in children orphaned by the depredations of undead. Ruben is getting on in years, approaching his 50th summer. But his spirit still burns with the word of Kelemvor, and duty to his fellow man.
The recent developments in Sembia trouble him deeply. Ruben is certain that Mirabetta Selkirk will bring the country to ruin and wants no part in it. Equally troubling is the Hulorn of Selgaunt's recent alliance with the Shadovar. He wishes to stay loyal to the Uskevren family, but he sees only the worst possible outcomes from this allegiance. Truthfully, Ruben plans on moving his congregation north, to Shadowdale, but lacks the funds to do so. And the threat of coming civil war and the march of Sembia's armies might make moving impossible.
Ruben Yivonsikay Castigaan (LN, Cleric 8 Kelemvor / Divine Champion 5 Kelemvor / Crusader 2 Kelemvor) doesn't cast a large shadow, though his gaze alone has been known to stop a raging barbarian. His salt and pepper hair is receding quite noticeably, but is well-kept. His muscular frame is often covered by modest plate mail and a tabard bearing the symbol of Kelemvor. For battle, however, Father Ruben takes full advantage of the many items available to the church. He has a friendly face that has known too much sorrow, evident by the many frown lines. But he is always personable and quick to offer advice (or critique). He is always seen carrying his enchanted heavy mace, regardless of wether or not he's expecting battle. He has, at times, been caught talking to the enchanted weapon, which suggests Ruben is either going insane, or it is an item of great power. Also counted among his day-to-day attire are a pair of inquisitors' gauntlets and many, many vials of holy water. Ruben is a consummate pipe-smoker and is always looking for rare and exotic pipe-weed.
There is one parable he tells every initiate of the Crusaders when they first join;
"A traveler on horseback came to a marsh in his path. He rode for a mile or two in either direction along its border, trying to find a way through or around. Eventually he found a small boy sitting beneath a large shadowtop at the edge of the marsh. He asked the boy, 'You there, lad. Does that marsh have a solid bottom?' The boy looked up from his whittling and replied, innocently, 'Yes, goodsir.' The traveler spurred his horse into the briny marsh and after a few yards began to sink. Despite all of his struggling he only sunk deeper into the brackish mud. He called back to the boy, 'I thought you said this marsh had a solid bottom!' The boy, quite innocently, replied, 'It does, goodsir. You just haven't reached it yet.'
