PF Sword of Valor, Wrath of the Righteous AP Part 2 with your hosts Scotley and MLeibrock
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    Sword of Valor, Wrath of the Righteous AP Part 2 with your hosts Scotley and MLeibrock

    Planning Thread

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    OOC Thread

    This is the In Character Thread for MLeibrock and Scotley's Wrath of the Righteous Adventure Path game using Part2--Sword of Valor
    Last edited by Scotley; Wednesday, 9th November, 2016 at 06:15 PM.

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    What has gone before…

    You sit in the partially ruined carriage house watching a tower. This sixty-foot-diameter gray stone tower is missing the bulk of its upper floors-some terrific force smashed its upper sections away, creating huge mound of rubble north of the building and leaving the tower now a mere stump with a jagged top. The Tower of Estrod served Kenabres for decades as library and research laboratory owned by the city. You are here because of a letter found earlier that suggested it has secretly served as a Templar of the Ivory Labyrinth safe house. The cultists may have used the tower's resources to keep track of crusader accomplishments and strengths while appearing to merely be cataloging a history of the war effort. In any event it is the third of the reported safe houses you have visited. The others were abandoned, but there has been some coming and going reported here by Anevia Tirabade, an injured survivor who you rescued and wife of the female Paladin Irabeth. Now that Anevia’s leg is somewhat mended she has taken up her former profession as a scout once more. Now you await the appointed time to strike. You look out over the rubble covered, blood stained streets and can’t help but contemplate the events of the last few days. The world seems turned upside down. The earthy smells of broken walls, the sharp sulfurous tang of demon ichor and the coppery bite of blood hang in the still air and elicit memories that hover at the edge of awareness like ghostly spirits lurking around a graveyard.

    Armasse officially began at noon, with the blessing of the festival by Lord Huirun himself, ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. He cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun's shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral's facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor. To the west, the fortress known as the Kite-the location of Kenabres's wardstone- had vanished. In its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens.

    A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd-Kenabres's greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the Dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of a human, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature's identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres. As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the Dragon and the Balor Lord clashed above. The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the Balor cut deep into Terendelev's body, swooping in to strike the Dragon and arresting her charge. A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd.

    The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift i t created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape-it opened below you r feet, angling away into darkness. Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone.

    You awakened in the dark to find yourself trapped deep below the city with your companions. Anevia, the semi-retired adventurer with her shattered leg. Aravashnial, the Elven Riftwarden, his eyes blinded in the fall, and Horgus Gwerm the arrogant, acerbic nobleman. Together you fought through darkness against vermin, undead and fiends and bested a mad dwarf wizard. You discovered a lost world of deformed crusader children warped by the evil taint of the Worldwound and abandoned to the world below. Now grown into Mongrelmen who still hold the ideals of the crusaders who were their parents. But they reveal that others of the kind have turned to evil following the poor treatment at the hands of crusaders and overzealous inquisitors. A secret war between these rival tribes has been brewing for many years. Worse, evil cultists have allied with the dark tribe of Mongrelmen. The horror of finding out these evil cultists of Baphomet, known to some as the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, had infiltrated various mercenary groups and Mongrels, was one thing but proof that at least two had been disguised as Iomedaean crusaders was something else entirely. The urgency to return to the surface and report became ever greater.

    You formed an alliance with Chief Sull of the Neathholm Mongrelmen and fought your way through the evil of their kind and battled the Inquisitor of Baphomet, Hosilla, and her devoted tiefling bodyguard, Uziel. It was in her things that you found the letter about the three safe houses.

    After days of fighting and struggling you finally emerged from the sewers, to step into a city vastly different from the one they left at the Armasse Celebration. The tremors and demonic attacks had devastated the city, leaving it a smoking, apocalyptic ruin. Deep chasms riddle the city, while the paths of enormous demons have left ruinous trails of rubble extending out from the city's heart. Above, the once-familiar skyline of Kenabres and forever changed-the tower of the Kite and the Cathedral of St. Clydwell having been completely destroyed, while elsewhere plumes of dark smoke still rise from the smoldering remains of burned-down buildings. Fat buzzards wheel above in skies scarred by red smoke and black clouds. The Worldwound had expanded its borders, and now the city of Kenabres was enveloped in it.

    There was nothing to do but pray and soldier on. Anevia was reunited with her Paladin wife Irabeth. Aravashnial was returned to his library to find his fellow Riftwardens slain or fled. Horgus found his own manor largely destroyed, but a cache of weapons and supplies remained safely below the wreckage, which he donated to the survivors of this terrible act.

    The city had been infiltrated with evil cultists and demons before the attack began. Once the city was plunged into chaos many of the crusaders proved to be more motivated by greed or saving their own skin rather than the holy crusade. They fell to rioting, looting or even joining the opposition.

    An island of hope was found. More than 200 of the faithful had gathered at the Inn of the Defender’s Heart. This building was large and fortified and stocked with food and other supplies. Joining the defenders here and surviving members of the city’s Eagle Watch you fought to restore order and rescue others. It soon became clear that the cultists and their demonic allies had taken old Kenabres—the original fortified town within the walls of greater Kenabres. They were there waiting for something. The Paladin Irabeth and the old wizard, Quednys Orlun believed they knew why. A fragment of the city’s wardstone remained and the demons believed they could use an abyssal stone, a Nahyndrian crystal mentioned in cultist documents you found, to take over all the remaining wardstones and turn them against the crusaders. Once again you were called to fight. Issued a powerful magic item called a Rod of Cancellation you worked your way into the heart of Old Kenabres and into the desecrated temple of Iomedae. There you battled demons, undead and evil tiefling cultists of Deskari their leader a half-elven Oracle of Deskari, Jeslyn.

    Finally, attaining the innermost room you used the Rod to destroy the fragment. Here your memories become jumbled and confused. A great out-flowing of power came into you overwhelming you at first, but leaving you filled with the divine power of Iomedae. All your previous wounds healed and you were restored as if rested. You would later learn that all along the Worldwound the wardstones were flaring with power and then burning out. A demon attack was underway and the flares of power destroyed demons in the hundreds. The powerful witch Areelu Vorlesh had been watching over the wardstone fragment and sensing its destruction. She tears a rift into this world from the Abyss and a pack of Babaus tumbles in. More powerful demons mass, but are cast back and the rift is sealed by the power of Iomedae. After a fierce battle the Babaus are slain.

    It soon becomes clear that the power that once protected the whole of Golorian from the spread of the Worldwound has been lost except for a potent fraction of it now housed in you. And thus you find yourself mopping up pockets of evil in ruined Kenabres as you await the arrival of Queen Galfrey and the Medev army.
    Last edited by Scotley; Tuesday, 17th June, 2014 at 03:30 PM.

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    OOC: The cultists are believed to be using a partially destroyed tower as a safe house. There is only one door visible though it might be possible to enter from the ruined upper story. A few days ago they were using the pass phrase, "I've new material for the archives". You are together in a stable of a ruined manor nearby. You are well known to each other, but please give a description of your character in your initial post.

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    Banaq, elf sorcerer

    "Sir Shelden, what is the militarily correct method for us to use as we proceed from here? Or perhaps I should summon an air elemental to scout ahead for us?"



    description of Banaq if the picture is insufficient
    Description of Banaq:
    Banaq looks quite youthful, as most elves do, but his shoulder-length hair is snow white, whether from mere genetics or a shock received in his formative years is a matter for speculation. The comfortably fitting elvish garb that he customarily wears is made from a light and supple, yet strong and warm fabric said to be woven from the webs of great spiders, or perhaps an even more exotic source. These garments are of a greenish-blue hue, with a coppery sheen visible in certain light. Banaq wears a tunic, leggings, and a cloak all made of this substance. He also customarily wears a veil or mask over the lower part of his face, as both a guard against unwanted familiarity and a sign of mourning for his family who are presumed lost.

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    "Elementals are crap scouts."

    It was Thorn, as diplomatic as ever. She was tucked in behind a piece of wall that was still standing, peeking out around it to glare at the tower as if it had personally offended her.

    What does she look like?
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    "Quick, but don't know how to stay out of sight. And they don't understand tactics, or people, so they don't know what to look for."

    She was fairly tall, lean and rangy of build almost to the point of skinniness. Her hair was dark and cut short in an uneven mop. She cut her own hair with a dagger. Thorn never let anyone get near her with anything sharp. She was dressed in dark greys...having given up the chain shirt she'd worn under Kenebres for a specially-ordered cuirass that had been painted with a deep charcoal hue. Beyond that, her trousers, hood and cloak were all variations on that color scheme which made for a boring ensemble that nevertheless was very good for fading into the shadows and stones of the shattered city.

    The only points of color were her eyes. They'd been dark before, but ever since the Wardstone broke, they'd turned an unsettling pale shade of blue...as if whatever essence had filled her had only that one place to leak out.

    Her left arm had a complicated-looking bracer; also a special order. It was designed with a metal and leather 'shell' that could rotate around her arm. Her weapon of choice was wrapped around it with one end loose. When battle was joined, she pulled on that hard, and the whole thing unwound like a spool on a loom, quickly putting the viciously barbed chain into her hands.

    She called it 'Thorn's Kiss.' From the beginning she'd had it; a thick, sturdy chain of dark cold iron, with twists of sharp metal interspersed down its length. It looked like the sort of thing that would be impossible to use safely...but Thorn seemed to know where to hold it without even looking. Her hands still had many faint scars to bear witness to the painful road she'd taken to gain that intimate familiarity. With her share of the loot from the cultists, she'd paid the expensive cost to have that antimagical chain forcibly enchanted. Sometimes it moved now, on her arm, seemingly of its own accord; the dangling tip of it questing like the head of a serpent for a moment before going limp again.

    During the long series of battles they'd fought under Kenebres, several things had become clear about Thorn. There was no room for artifice in her, neither for deceit nor for fun and games. Her bedside manner was nothing short of atrocious, and the only times she seemed to smile was when combating demons and their minions. In the beginning she'd shared nothing of herself or story...only contributing her skills and combat prowess. Thorn had proved to be capable at stealth and scouting, and had a quick hand and a knack for spotting and undoing traps as well. For all that, she was no thief or cutpurse and took umbrage at being mistaken for one. What she lacked in social graces she'd made up for with deeds though, showing courage and loyalty in the difficult battles waged in the dark places under the city. And at the end, when victory seemed far away, it seemed like she'd started to open up more.

    Change took time though it seemed, because she was back in form.

    "I'll check it out, see if anyone's still inside and how many they are," Thorn concluded. "If you hear a bird call that isn't a raven or vulture, come running."

    A raven or vulture call would have been silly of course. There were far too many of those in the city to tell hers apart from them.

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    Sir Sheldon was contemplating the many malicious and magnificant things that have happened this far when he heard his name mentioned.

    "Scouting, Yes . . . . " Before he can reply Thorn speaks up, the brave and mysterious woman. She had proven her metal as well as any battle hardened warrior. I believe I would prefer your magics to be held as a reserve. Thorn's skills are unmatched. I am sure you have seen the same as I have.

    So, proper military tactics being countered so easily by the adversary, I think a variation might throw the cultists off just enough to bring an otherwise unattainable victory. Besides, how well can an elemental find a trap. I would bet good money on her finding some of the craftiest traps, or at least avoiding the effects of a trap she misses."


    Appearence:


    Tough, Square-jawed and shouldered. Battle scarrs on all of his exposed skin. He kind of resembles a Bull dog - and has an equivalant attitude. Pushy at times, but it is always nowen it is for the best interestof the one being 'pushed' He makes no qualms about not tolerating evil as he has had to exicute field justice to captured urepentant cultists of all races. He still waits for a follower of evil to actually wish to change, that mercy can be given.

    he stands about 6' tall and has a lean frame [185 lbs]. Though not immensely strong, he can hold his own in any fight with his skill with arms. One look in his eyes show a bullheaded determination that is admired in any leader, but a haunting look lurks in the bck. when someon asks him about it he glances away and says nothing, but his glance always locks on Vakeva Kiihko as a son would look to his father as a hero of his. Always.
    Last edited by Scott DeWar; Saturday, 14th June, 2014 at 11:22 PM.

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    The tall, muscular man leaned against the wall. His dark hair hung loose about his head. He had joined them as a servant of a god, or so he said. Of course he seldom acted as a holy man. His sword and armor was reminiscent of a warrior more than a cleric, even a martial one. Only Thorn was a more dour companion, though Denir always looked the part with this dark, fierce Kellid face. Over time, he too thawed to the group, though more than Thorn. They hadn't had much time to relax, but on occasion Denir would smile and laugh along with the group. But when it was time to serve The Iron Lord, he was earnest in his devotion. Though at times he was dark in mien as face, he was always at the forefront of any fight the group faced. When the fight was done he also used his powers to heal the group.

    Now he surveyed the tower with the others. he watched Thorn leave to scout. "Aye and what if we hear a crow?" he says after her with the slightest of grins, a joke.

    "Once Thorn returns we can get a full picture, but one of us may need to approach the door with the password. Whether that is to infiltrate or merely open the door for the assault will be determined "



    Denir
    Spoiler:

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    Banaq, elf sorcerer

    Quote Originally Posted by Shayuri View Post
    "Elementals are crap scouts."
    "Quick, but don't know how to stay out of sight. And they don't understand tactics, or people, so they don't know what to look for."
    "I'll check it out, see if anyone's still inside and how many they are," Thorn concluded. "If you hear a bird call that isn't a raven or vulture, come running."
    Banaq, growing accustomed to Thorn's brusqueness (to put it delicately), wisely chooses not to debate the finer points of elemental sensibilities. After all, he thought to himself, it would be unfair of him to engage in a contest of wits with one so poorly armed. "Very well, Thorn. As you wish. Just remember that there are several of us here to assist, if you grow weary doing everything yourself."

    Laugh MetaVoid laughed with this post

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    Sheldon looks about and says, "Vakeva, Denir. Are you ready for an assault full on? We can use Banaq's elementals to attack from behind the cultists. How think you all?"

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    "I think you're getting ahead of yourself," Thorn says. "We don't even know if they're in there. All the other old safehouses were abandoned. I'll be back in a minute or two."

    She gave Banaq a wry smile. "Don't worry. You'll have your chance to shine."

    Then she ducked low and flickered away into the grey rubble that peppered the streets, towards the tower.

    (testing the die roller - woo hoo! That's stealth by the way)
    (1d20+15)[33]
    Laugh Leif laughed with this post

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