GM icehawk's wrath of the rightious

Game Master icehawk333

Character creation: 
-Gestalt rules (See here http://www.d20srd.org/srd/variant/classes/gestaltCharacters.htm if you don't know them) 
-Level 1 
-Max HP at every level because you'll need it 
-Max starting gold for your class 
-One trait from the WotR player's guide and one other trait from anywhere that isn't another AP. I will want to see these traits in your character's history; the campaign one is obviously a big one, but no matter how minor the other one is, I want a justification for it in there somewhere, no matter how derailey or out of place it is. That's what traits are for. 
-All alignment are allowed . Yes, even CE.
However, all characters must, must be loyal to the party.
-25 point buy. 
Allowed content: 
-All classes in main, official Pathfinder, and all archetypes from across the line. If you're using a class with an Unchained variant, you will take that Unchained class automatically. If there's an archetype you feel is compatible from the vanilla class you want, talk to me and we may be able to work out some adaptations. 
-All races from pathfinder. 
-For equipment, feats, and all assorted other kinds of junk, all official Paizo sources are allowed. Go wild. 
- dream scarred press psionics are allowed.
Third party is on request. 
-I guess if someone REALLY wants it, we can have guns.
For fluff, I want to see all of these things in your character's backgrounds: 
-Their background (Duh) 
-What their motivations and goals are 
-Their personality 
-At least some plot hooks of some kind from their past. You've got freedom with it, but gimme something to hook my mouth on like a big, talky bass who you can reel up out of the water and get sweet content out of
-As mentioned, your traits, but in background form
Extra: 
Gestalt is a lot of stuff and first level isn't really where builds always shine through. So tell me what you're building toward and what you want to do. Not in depth, not a tactical rundown of your action flowchart, just a sense of how you'll play down the line.
House rules: 
-http://michaeliantorno.com/feat-taxes-in-pathfinder/ These feat house rules will be in effects 
-Levels are given when the story is along far enough and there is no XP. Given the bigger, badder beasties you'll fight being supermen, it's worth it 
-Instead of always being LG, Paladins are their god's alignment. Follow the deity's code. If there isn't one, you can ask me to write one up, but no promises.


The nameless green moth-
TN
Domains- 
Protection, magic, Darkness, animal
Subdomains- 
Insect, moon, arcane, defense.
Holy symbol- 
A tiny green moth made out of mundane crystal set in a silver pendent. 
Always costs as much as a silver holy symbol- no wooden versions exist.
A strange deity from what was a very small town, and has, in the last few hundred years, become a flourishing town with a remarkable agricultural status that has it's name known in nearly every town- Mentathalos. Nearly every town knows the name, as nearly every town has imports of odd and exotic fruits from this town. The town seems somewhat hard to access, as it often seems to consider itself it's own ever growing country, and requires quite a lot of magical backround testing to enter legally. In addition, the whole town seems oddly untouched by the events of the outside world, almost wholly unconcerned with them.
Those who do go there say that, while it is a beautiful, flourishing city that almost seems bugger on the inside of it's borders then out, there isn't too much else to be said. The people and trade are nice, but nothing seems terribly supernatural about the place itself, aside from possibly how well the crops grow.
Regardless of how evasive this community is, plenty of people seem to have learned of thier local deity, who is said to have once been a strange creature who protected thier town from warring armies time and time again, while being shunned and rejected out of fear, until it cost itself it's own life in the process. The one person who knew what the creature did while it still lived was gifted the wing of the moth as it died, the moth using it's abilities to wrap it around him as if it was a protective mantle,mbefoe the moth died in response to it's wounds. The wing was later fastened together with a single button, and is still worn by the man's ancestors to this day. It's potential powers are unknown, but there are cloaks made in tribute to this thst are bought, made, and sold in the town. 
The passing of time and lore has made this creature a dieity in it's own right, and still is said to watch over the town to allow it to flourish, and watches over anyone else who would extend their prayers.
It's clerics are no stranger to self sacrifice to protect those they care for, and are also no stranger to putting those to the sword who would harm others- but this is something to be done in defense of family. Most of the time, clerics of the moth gust live out their lives, content to make money, friends, do their jobs, and hopefully be a decent person.

Religion trait- 
Moth's awareness- 
You gain a +2 to preception and stealth checks made in dim light.

Magic item- 
Mantle of the moth- 
3000 gp 
While wearing this bright green mantle, you gain a +5 competence bonus to stealth checks made in any lighting other then darkness or supernatural darkness.
If the wearer is a worshipper of the nameless green moth, once a day, when a friendly charecter within 30 feet is about to take lethal amounts of damage, you can, the wearer can, as an immidate action, intercept the attack. This can teleport you up to 30 feet, in between the chsrecter and thier attacker. If it's a melee attack, you teleport into the victim's square, and they get pushed to an adjacent square farthest from the attacker. This movment does not provoke attacks of opportunity. The wearer becomes the new target of the attack. If the attack requires a save, the wearer takes a -5 to the saves associated with the spell. If the attack required an attack roll, it becomes a natural 20, and gets a +4 to confirm a critical.
In addition, this cloak cannot be damaged or sundered while worn by a worshipper of the nameless green moth.
This cloak counts as a holy symbol of the nameless green moth.

Lothar Khalidson, Untouchable Primalist Bloodrager (celestial bloodline)//Oath of Vengeance and Holy Light Paladin
Male human (Kellid) bloodrager (primalist, untouchable rager) 1/paladin (oath of vengeance, warrior of the holy light) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 15, 84, 85, Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 118, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Magic 60)
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +3
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 16 (+6 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +1
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Offense
--------------------
Speed 40 ft. (30 ft. in armor)
Melee earth breaker +7 (2d6+5/×3) I have stat blocks ready for the various combinations of rage, power attack, and smite, but this is the basic attack
Special Attacks angelic attacks, bloodrage (13 rounds/day), smite evil 1/day (+3 attack and AC, +1 damage)
Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +4)
. . At will—detect evil
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Statistics
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Str 20, Dex 14, Con 19, Int 8, Wis 8, Cha 17
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 16
Feats Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, Extra Rage, Power Attack, Reckless Rage[ACG]
Traits stolen fury, wary of danger
Skills Craft (armor) +3, Heal +3, Intimidate +7, Linguistics +0, Perception +3, Survival +3
Languages Abyssal, Common, Hallit
SQ fast movement
Other Gear chainmail, earth breaker[UE], 110 gp
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Special Abilities
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Angelic Attacks (Su) Melee attacks are good-aligned, and do +1d6 to evil outsiders.
Bloodrage (13 rounds/day) (Su) +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC when enraged.
Combat Expertise +/-1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack.
Deadly Aim -1/+2 Trade a penalty to ranged attacks for a bonus to ranged damage.
Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell).
Fast Movement +10 (Ex) +10 feet to speed, unless heavily loaded.
Power Attack -2/+4 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +3 to hit, +1 to damage, +3 deflection bonus to AC when used.

Lothar, Son of Khalid, was born during the titanic clash between the balor Khorramzadeh and Terendelev the silver dragon. The abyssal rage and righteous fury combined for days as the two wreaked havoc around the Worldwound, turning night into day and sundering the ground where they fought. Khalid took his son’s birth as a portent of his destiny and nearly from the moment that he could walk, trained Lothar in the techniques to harness his own anger, fear, hatred, and determination, and direct it inwards to overcome the physical limitations of his body – Lothar’s training was an effort to return to the roots of all Avistanian barbarians and become something more than a simple berserker. The warriors of Sarkoris, before its destruction, were renowned and are remembered as a mixture of a witch’s arcane powers and the stereotypical barbarian’s ferocity, channeling both into something greater than the sum of its parts.

But it was not to be. Lothar was a fine warrior, and a better craftsman, but he seemed to focus on reacting to danger and defending himself and others from it, rather than seeking out the thrill of battle. Even his smithing abilities were better suited to creating armor than weapons, and his own weapon of choice was a hammer, rather than an axe or sword or even his bare hands – common in tales of those primal fighters, many choosing to take on traits of animals in their bloodlust. Lothar himself was a reserved young man, and although he tried his hardest to make his father proud, he always felt that he had come up short in that regard, and that he could do so much more if he could just find the inner fire that he seemed to be missing. When Lothar’s religious tendencies are asked about, Lothar will willingly admit that he often offered prayers to the Dwarven deities Torag and Angradd – the defensive tactics and strategic thinking from Torag reflecting Lothar’s own temperament, combined with the aggressive tactics prevalent in Angradd’s methods reflecting Lothar’s barbarian heritage – and both are worshipped alongside Gorum as a source of strength and the patron of his raging tactics.

Knowing that his family, his clan, and his sister clans are beset on all sides – the demons of the Worldwound to the west, the orcs of Belkzen to the south, the dinosaurs and then the White Witches of Irrisen to the west, Lothar spun in a circle to pick a direction and set out on his own as soon as his father and the clan elders approved of the request. In what can only be divine providence from Desna herself, Lothar found himself walking into the twisted, shifting landscape of the Worldwound. Lothar, despite whatever Desna might have wanted, decided to go around the demonic wasteland rather than attempt to fight his way through it on his way to Nerosyan, the capital of Mendev and the center of the ongoing crusades against the demonic plague.

Unfortunately, life is never as straightforward as it should be. Lothar was set upon by ten cultists of some demon lord – he never did learn which one – and managed to slaughter seven of them before he was overwhelmed and incapacitated. When he woke, he found himself bound to a stone table, in what looked to be an ancient demonic temple. There were several others on similar tables around him, bound as he was, evenly spaced in a circle around an alter that Lothar could only see the back of from his spot. The soft, rhythmic chanting of the high priest drew Lothar’s attention, and he caught the eye of one of the cultists – or at least he thought it was the eye. With their deep hood drawn up, no features were visible for Lothar to focus on, except a pair of burning red specks where Lothar assumed the cultist’s eyes would be. And, of course, not being versed in the Abyssal language, the sigils and runes on the cultists’ blood red robes and carved into the walls and pillars in the temple provided no information at all. But there, as Lothar looked into the shadowed visage of whatever it might be, Lothar’s focus narrowed and he knew one thing above all others: he did not want to die.

At first, the change in Lothar was miniscule, and expected. His muscles tensed, his heart began to race, his vision began to narrow, and Lothar noticed out of the corner of his eye, a cache of weapons – likely from the prisoners – in a corner of the room. The chanting from the priest grew louder and Lothar knew that he had precious little time to disrupt the ritual, but right then, a small butterfly, so completely out of place in the temple, landed on the binding around Lothar’s right wrist, and Lothar knew that he would be able to get free, stop the ritual, and help the others escape. With a prayer to Desna for freedom from the bindings, and a roar borne of pure focus, Lothar pulled the chains straight out of the stone with a shower of rubble. A quick yank later and Lothar’s legs were free and he charged past the single cultist between him and the weapons. There in the pile, lay his own massive war hammer, and his smaller, throwing hammer. Lothar grabbed both and found his first target: the High Priest, still chanting. Still attempting to focus and finish the ritual - which Lothar noted that he could now understand, though he did not know why. Making his choice, Lothar charged the High Priest, cutting down the few who dared to step in his way, barely slowing his stride in the process before finally smashing his hammer into the High Priest’s face with all of his might.

A thunderous CRACK and a moment of utter darkness permeated the room, and when Lothar could see again, the altar in the center of the room had shattered, the cultists were sprawled out on the floor, several of the other prisoners had managed to free themselves and join in the fight though the ritual had taken its toll from them each of them as well, and Lothar finally fell to his knees, exhausted. It was only later, once he had regained his strength and left the temple desecrated and ruined, and finally continued on his journey towards Nerosyan that the enormity of what had occurred registered to Lothar. He had found that spark, that fire which allowed him to transcend what he could have accomplished on his own. He had found his destiny, as a fabled Bloodrager. And more than that, several symbols have appeared on Lothar’s body. A small butterfly on his left wrist and the Sword in the Mountain on his right wrist have each marked him as a servant of deities – Gorum, the favored deity of barbarians, and Desna, the favored deity of travelers and those seeking freedom, the two deities of his youth, his heritage. And then the stylized hammer of Torag on Lothar’s left shoulder, and Angradd’s smoking forge on Lothar’s right shoulder – his deities of choice and the ones that suit him most in his mind’s eye. Lothar vowed then that he would live up to this blessing. He would become a Paladin in their names. And he would begin by reaching Nerosyan, and cleansing the Worldwound of the demonic scourge once and for all.

Lothar, like most Kellids is taller than the average human, standing 5’ 10” but is built lean – the land of their home does not produce enough to allow Kellids to get fat. His hair is very dark and shoulder length all around. He does not bother with attempting to tie it back or tie it up, he just lets it hang as it will. His eyes are a muted blue, though when he enters a bloodrage, they go pure white, reflecting the celestial origin of his power.

Lothar is much quieter than one might expect of a barbarian, not quite to the point of brooding, just… reserved. He lets the people who want to think about tactics do so, either making his own path in the meantime, or waiting for direction from one he trusts to lead him. Of course, all of that gets thrown to the wayside when confronted with demons and their cultists. Prodded on by multiple good-aligned deities, and often recalling his near-sacrifice, Lothar will never hold anything back against those born of pure evil, nor does he distinguish between demon, daemons, and devils. They should all be returned to their particular hell, and if possible, pursued and destroyed.

Chaos. Entropy. Collapse. Anarchy. Pandemonium. The enemy of all.

“We live in a world where even Gods can die,” the armored form bellowed, “A world where mere goodness and kindness are not enough. A world where wicked and selfish thoughts are useless distractions. Naïve idealism has no place here!”

The man had, at this uttering, surmounted a platform erected before the crowd of young, stern, and eager faces. Each body rigidly at attention, eyes following the ironclad figure’s every movement.

“If men such as you hold any aspirations of grandeur, of fame, of heroism, or glory, you had best leave now. We are not self-serving. We are not in pursuit of prestige. We are not” his sneer was audible behind the jagged faceplate of his helmet “Adventurers.

We are practical. We are effective. We are this world’s last line of defense against armageddon itself. No one of us is more important than the other. No one of us is inexpendable.

Our world will not end with an explosion. It will collapse and crumble from the complacency of the masses, fearing for their own petty lives. We are not slaves to fear like they are. We are HELLKNIGHTS! FEAR IS OUR WEAPON, AND ORDER IS OUR ARMOR!”

To uproarious cheers and applause, the Paralictor raised his black gauntlet. One pair of eyes burned brighter from his audience than all others: with meaning, hatred, and purpose. These were the eyes of Jacen Solis “The Mutilated.” He had reason and conviction beyond all others. Every man and woman here had lost something, but fervor cannot effectively be driven by loss. Jacen had more than loss, he had conviction. He had felt the blades of lawlessness cut through his skin like a knife through his very soul.

Years back, Jacen had awoke from his usual routine as supervisor of a outer Chelish plantation: drive the slaves through their workday, go to the local tavern, get blind drunk, go home with one of the many women who doted on him (he was quite a strapping looker back in the day), wake up hungover, repeat. The difference today was that Jacen didn’t wake in an alley, a field, or a latrine as per usual. He awoke in a dark room naked, bound, and gagged, surrounded by men in cloaks who chanted strange words. Well, mostly men. In the center, hood down around her shoulders, was the young redhead he had bedded the night before.

“Aw, you dumb, pretty thing,” she mocked, “You’re the worst lay I’ve had in ages!”

With a cackle and a sharp kick, she drove a sharp heel into his nethers. He began to bleed.

This was only the beginning of the torture. The woman and her cabal began to use his blood to draw runes and circles on the wooden floor of the cellar, and every time a wound proved insufficient to sate their needs, they opened a new one. Only once completed did the chanting resume. Jacen’s body was covered with lacerations, bruises, bones broken through the skin… some of his organs had become completely visible. His face was in particularly bad shape: an eye nearly gouged out, an ear half-removed, pieces of cheek left barely connected to the rest of his flesh.

As the chanting came to a zenith, Jacen began to float off the floor. An unbelieveable amount of energy began flowing from the blood-arrays and runes the cultists had inscribed. Word of a language uknown invaded Jacen’s brain, every syllable feeling like the scraping of teeth on the chalkboard of his mind:

“આ મનુષ્ય શું મૂર્ખ છે”

The cultist all heard the same. The few that understood Abyssal recognized it as an eons-old Demonic saying: “What fools these mortals be.”

At this declaration, Jacen’s wounds began to somehow fester and heal simultaneously. A shockwave rocked the room, knocking the cultists off their feet and hurling each into the walls of the basement, killing most of them instantly. His bindings disintegrated, Jacen ran naked and barefoot from the basement, discovering that he was in the cellar of the tavern all along. As he left the building, however, he felt whatever adrenaline he had fly from his body, and everything went black.

When next he woke, he was in an infirmary bed, wracked with intense pain and a man in armor towering above him. Gradually, as he recovered, Jacen learned what had happened: the shockwave had alerted a nearby patrol of the Hellknights of the Order of The Godclaw, who found him, discovered the cellar ritual, and were able to dispatch some of the remaining cultists. It appeared, however, as if some had escaped. He also learned that the ritual was supposed to accomplish something , but exactly what was unclear… The Hellknights had burned the tavern to the ground for good measure, and were keeping Jacen for observation and recovery.

And rightly so.Jacen’s trials were far from over. Nightmares about the rituals persisted: the terrible voice in his mind, the feeling of overwhelming power, the torture endured at the hands of his captors; all of these haunted his dreams during his recovery. His night terrors aroused alarm from the Hellknights, fearing the man may succumb insanity… or worse. A Hellknight was stationed at his bedside at all times to watch Jacen, and to extol the necessity of Law and encourage him to fight the chaos that raged inside him tooth and nail.

The nightmares persisted, however, long after his physical recovery. Seeking to help him further (and keep an eye on a possible chaotic corruption), the Hellknights employed Jacen where his skills as a former slave-driver made him the most helpful: administering lashes. The Godclaw apprehended a great many lawbreakers whose infractions didn’t merit the death penalty, and so Jacen’s abilities were quite useful to the camp.

His long bedside lectures and fear of falling to the demonic influence of the ritual fully indoctrinated Jacen to the Hellknight way of thinking. Through hard work, study, and devotion, Jacen worked his way from being a simple civilian under surveillance to becoming an Armiger of The Godclaw.

Though not a fully-fledged Hellknight, Jacen had finally found a purpose in his life. Coincidentally (though not to his knowledge) his nightmares suddenly waned at the same time, and he became the poster-child for the rehabilitative properties of structure and law. Jacen began exhibiting supernatural abilities from his prayers to The Godclaw. In his eyes, the pantheon had marked him as a true believer, and he would not let them down.

This “approval” inspired him to began pioneering a fighting style that would utilize his skills with a whip in a lethal fashion, with the hope that he’d someday be of use on the field of battle against the forces of chaos. When leather whips proved ineffective against the armored practice dummies he’d concocted, Jacen asked the smiths at the camp to fashion him blades and spikes that he could attach to his weapons. Through months of practice he became proficient in these “Scorpion Whips” as he heard the blacksmith call them, and became apt enough at their use to wield two at once!

Now hearing the speech of his Paralictor, Jacen immediately volunteered to journey to Kenabres to fight against the demonic hordes of the Worldwound. He was ready. The Godclaw had spoken, ridding his mind of chaos and showing him the way to do their will. Whips in hand, the time had finally come for him to exact punishment on the forces that had ruined his body and addled his mind.

Chaos. Entropy. Collapse. Anarchy. Pandemonium. The cancer that is the Worldwound. He would see it all vanquished from the world, no matter the cost.

Jacen is a zealot of the highest order. He has no tolerance for chaos, frivolity, mess, insubordination, or anything of the sort. Having come a long way from being an inebriate slave-driver, he’s now a model Armiger with aspirations of someday becoming a fully-fledged Hellknight.

Like most following Hellknight ideals, good and evil mean very little to Jacen, often describing them as “ineffective moralistic squabbling.” He gets things done by the book, by the letter of the law, and doesn’t care much about the spirit. After all, humans who don’t follow the law are no better than demons themselves. He’s seen that firsthand.
Unless speaking to his superiors (to whom he is always respectful), Jacen can be rather gruff and inflexible. Coupled with his significant facial scarring and imposing physique, Jacen doesn’t often make a good first impression and can rub people the wrong way.

Though he is a master of punishment with the whip, Jacen is no sadist. His lashing of others has been simply out of duty to punish offences and enforce structure, often saying, “If I broke the rules, I’d want the same done to me.” He staunchly believes that sometimes harming the right people in the right way can bring greater order to the world: Crime must be punished; Chaos must be quelled.

In that same vein, he journeys not to the Worldwound for glory, but for the greater good of the world: the sooner this chaos, this entropy, is banished from the material plane, all beings on it will be safe from armageddon. He seeks no praise for his work, and thanks or compliments make him extremely uncomfortable and occasionally embarrassed.

Once a handsome and strapping young man, Jacen’s scarred visage is like seeing a defaced piece of art: all the more tragic for once having been beautiful. Though Clerics of the Godclaw were able to heal the functional damage, the aesthetic damage to Jacen’s body proved to be irreparable, as though they were not scars at all. The ones run his cheek, forehead, and around his right eye are all that most get a glimpse of. Once his armor is removed, it becomes apparent that the scars line nearly all parts of his body. In some places, chunks of flesh are merely missing, creating strange divots in his limbs and torso. Part of one of his ears is also missing, giving his head a bit of a lopsided look.

Jacen stands at 6’2”, and has a particularly muscular frame from years in the fields and then years of training with the Hellknights. His strawberry-blonde hair has a tendency to stand on end, which often looks quite peculiar with his beginnings of a receding hairline. He is usually seen wearing a suit of Lamellar armor with two bladed whips and a crossbow tied to his belt, a fully-loaded pack on his back, and an amulet with the symbol of The Godclaw around his neck.

Jacen "The Mutilated" Solis
Human fighter 1/warpriest of The Godclaw 1 Gestalt(Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 60)
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +2
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Defense
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AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+6 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +4
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee dagger +5 (1d4+4/19-20) or
. . dagger +5 (1d4+4/19-20) or
. . scorpion whip +4 (1d6+5) or
. . scorpion whip +4 (1d6+3)
Ranged light crossbow +4 (1d8/19-20)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with scorpion whip, 10 ft. with scorpion whip)
Special Attacks blessings 3/day (Law: axiomatic strike, War: war mind), sacred weapon (1d6, +0, 0)
Warpriest Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +3)
. . 1st—bane (DC 13), protection from chaos
. . 0 (at will)—detect fiendish presence, detect magic, mending
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 18
Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency (scorpion whip), Exotic Weapon Proficiency (whip), Two-weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (whip)
Traits stolen fury, whip specialist
Skills Acrobatics -2 (-6 to jump), Knowledge (religion) +4, Sense Motive +6, Spellcraft +4
Languages Common
Other Gear lamellar (steel) armor[UC], crossbow bolts (20), dagger, dagger, light crossbow, scorpion whip[UC], scorpion whip[UC], bedroll, belt pouch, branding iron, custom shape, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), holy text (Tenets of the Order)[UE], manacles, masterwork backpack[APG], mess kit[UE], pot, soap, spell component pouch, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, wooden holy symbol of Godclaw, wrist sheath, spring loaded, wrist sheath, spring loaded
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Tracked Resources
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Blessings (3/day) (Su) - 0/3
Crossbow bolts - 0/20
Dagger - 0/1
Dagger - 0/1
Torch - 0/10
Trail rations - 0/5
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Special Abilities
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Blessings (3/day) (Su) Pool of power used to activate Blessing abilities.
Sacred Weapon (Su) As a swift action, grant weapon enhancement bonus or certain powers.

Thrain is a simple dwarf with a big dream. Born into a house of guards and warriors, Thrain preformed his duty, learning the ways of war in service to hearth and home, but he always longed for more. Despite showing skill with his family's warhammer based fighting style, Thrain felt a powerful connection to the forge. Thrain found a passion in the act of creation and joy in seeing his creations put to use, and it was not long before he found himself in service to the dwarven god of smiths, Torag, laboring to provide weapons and armor for his home. He also wants to study the rune stones holding back the world wound and see if they can be improved and/or reproduced.

Male Dwarf fighter (eldritch guardian) 1/Warpriest 1 (forgeproest )(gestalt 1)
[Lawful Good]
DESCRIPTION
Age 64
Looks: sandy brown/blond hair, blue eyes
Height/Weight 4ft 8in tall, 200 lbs. (Medium)
Campaign: wrath of the righteous
DM: Icehawk

STRENGTH
16 (+3)
HIT POINTS
DEXTERITY
12 (+1)
CONSTITUTION
12 (+2)
INTELLIGENCE
14 (+2)
WISDOM
17 (+3)
CHARISMA
9 (-1)
HP 15
Initiative +1 = 1 [Dex]

SKILLS
SKILL Total + Ability Mod. + Ranks + Misc.
Acrobatics* +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Appraise +2 = INT 2+0+0
Bluff -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Climb* +3 = STR 3+0+0
Craft +6 = INT 2+1+3+1 (+2 for metal and stone)
Craft +2 = INT 2+0+0
Craft +2 = INT 2+0+0
Diplomacy -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Disable Device*† +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Disguise -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Escape Artist* +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Fly* +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Handle Animal† -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Heal +7 = WIS 3+1+3
Intimidate -1 = CHA -1+0+0
K (Arcana)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Dungeoneering)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Engineering)† +6 = INT 2+1+3
K (Geography)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (History)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Local)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Nature)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Nobility)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Planes)† +2 = INT 2+0+0
K (Religion)† +6 = INT 2+1+3
Linguistics† +2 = INT 2+0+0
Perception +7 = WIS 3+1+3
Perform -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Perform -1 = CHA -1+0+0
Profession† +7 = WIS 3+1+3
Profession† +3 = WIS 3+0+0
Ride +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Sense Motive +3 = WIS 3+0+0
Sleight of Hand*† +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Spellcraft† +6 = INT 2+1+3
Stealth* +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Survival +3 = WIS 3+0+0
Swim* +3 = STR 3+0+0
Use Magic Device† -1 = CHA -1+0+0

* Armor Check Penalty -4
† Trained Only

EQUIPMENT

NOTES

Base Speed [ 20 (4 sq.) ]

AC [19] = 10 +6 [Chainmail] +1 [Light Steel Shield] +1 [Dex]+1 [natural armor]
Touch AC [11] Flat-Footed [18]

BASE ATTACK BONUS
+1
Basic Melee Attack +4
Basic Ranged Attack +2

Weapon
Attack Bonus
Critical
mwkWarhammer +8 x3 1d8+3

FORTITUDE SAVE
+5 = 2 [base] +2 [Con] +1 [race]
REFLEX SAVE
+1 = 0 [base] +1 [Dex]
WILL SAVE
+5 = 2 [base] +3 [Wis]

CMB
+4 = 1 [BAB] +3 [Str] +0 [size]
CMD
+15 = 10 +1 [BAB] +3 [Str] +1 [Dex] +0 [size]

FEATS
Deific obedience (+1 to hit with warhammers so long as I preform the required obedience each morning, at later levels additional abilities apply)
Toughness (+1 hp per level, minimum 3)
Weapon focus (warhammer)

TRAITS
Spark of creation (+1 on craft checks, crafting takes 5% less time and money)

Touched by Divinity: As long as you can remember, you’ve had an unexplainable interest in one deity in particular. One of your parents may have been a priest of this deity, or you may have been an orphan raised by the church, but these alone cannot explain your deep connection to the faith. You’ve always felt calm and at ease in places holy to the deity, and often have dreams about the god or goddess visiting you—most often in the form of a sacred animal or creature. Your faith is strong, even if you don’t happen to be a divine spellcaster—if you are a divine spellcaster, you should be a worshiper of this deity. You begin play with a silver holy symbol of your chosen deity for free. In addition, choose one domain associated with your chosen deity. You gain the use of that domain’s 1st-level domain spell as a spell-like ability usable once per day (CL equals your character level). Associated Mythic Path: Hierophant. Multiple Characters: If other characters choose this trait, you should all work together to decide what deity you’re associated with—it should be the same deity shared by all of you. You might even share the same dreams.
(Spell like ability chosen: protection from alignment)

Drawback

CARRYING CAPACITY
Light Load: 76lbs.
Medium Load: 153lbs.
Heavy Load: 230lbs.
Lift Over Head: 230lbs.
Lift Off Ground: 460lbs.
Push or Drag: 1150lbs.
LANGUAGES
Common
Dwarven
2 Bonus Languages (Int)
Cleric Spells Per Day
Level 0 3 + 1 [wis]
Level 1 1+ 1 [Wis]
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Dwarf
Slow and Steady: Base speed of 20' is never modified by armor or encumbrance
Darkvision 60 feet
Defensive Training: +4 dodge bonus to AC vs. giants
Craftsman: Dwarves are known for their superior craftsmanship when it comes to metallurgy and stonework. Dwarves with this racial trait receive a +2 racial bonus on all Craft or Profession checks related to metal or stone. This racial trait replaces greed.
Hatred: +1 to hit vs. orcs and goblinoids
Unstoppable: Some dwarves train from a young age to outlast orcs on the battlefield. They gain Toughness as a bonus feat and a +1 racial bonus on Fortitude saves. This racial trait replaces hardy. Source PCS:ISR
Stability: +4 CMB vs. bull rush or trip attempts while standing on solid ground
Stonecunning: +2 Perception (stone). Free check within 10 feet of hidden doors or traps in stone.
Shadowhunter: Characters with this trait deal 50% weapon damage to incorporeal creatures when using non-magical weapons (including natural and unarmed attacks), as if using magic weapons. They also gain a +2 bonus on saving throws to remove negative levels, and recover physical ability damage from attacks by undead creatures at a rate of 2 points per ability score per day (rather than the normal 1 point per ability score per day). Dwarves can take this trait in place of weapon familiarity.
Bonus Languages: Giant, Gnome, Goblin, Orc, Terran, Undercommon

War priest
Aura
Blessings
Orisons
blessings (3+1/2 level +wis uses per day, artifice/war)

Focus Weapon

At 1st level, a warpriest receives Weapon Focus as a bonus feat (he can choose any weapon, not just his deity’s favored weapon).

Sacred weapon (1d6)

Smith’s Spells

A forgepriest adds the following spells to his spell list: 1st—jury rig, shield; 2nd—heat metal, shatter; 3rd—keen edge, quench, versatile weapon; 4th—wreath of blades; 5th—fabricate, major creation; 6th—mage’s sword.

Fighter (Eldritch Guardian)

Eldritch guardians are trained to detect and give warning about magic threats to the people and places they protect.

Class Skills: The eldritch guardian adds Perception, Spellcraft, and Use Magic Device to his list of class skills, but does not gain Intimidate, Ride, or Swim as class skills.

Familiar (Ex)

At 1st level, an eldritch guardian gains a familiar, treating his fighter level as his effective wizard level for the purpose of this ability.
(familiar chosen: Iuon wyrd. they're little floating rock dudes that I thought was appropriate for a dwarf craftsmen, later I'll get improved familiar and replace him with an earth elemental or homuclous)
This ability replaces the bonus feat gained at 1st level.

*numbers after slash (/) are modified for when Stalker is inhabiting shadow

Elf Spiritualist (Shadow Caller)/Slayer 1
N Medium Humanoid(elf)
Init + 3 Senses low-light vision, Darkvision 60/90, Perception +7
Deity: Shadow and Twilight, Light and Dark

Defense:
AC 17 Touch 14 FF 13 (+3 armor, +3 Dex, +1 dodge)
HP 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +3; Ref +5; Will +5;
Elven Immunities

Offense:
Speed 30 ft.
Elven Curve Blade + 4 (1d10+3) 18-20/x2
Cold Iron short sword +4 (1d6+2) 19-20/x2
Shortbow +4 (1d6) /x3
Dagger +4 (1d4+2) 19-20/x2

Statistics:
STR: 14 DEX: 16 CON: 12 INT: 14 WIS: 16 CHA: 8
Base Atk: +1; CMB +4; CMD 16

Traits:
Called, Chance Encounter

Racial:
Shadowplay, Blended view, Weapon Familiarity (elven), Elven Immunities

Feats: Dodge

Skills:
Stealth +7/10*, Perception+ 7, Acrobatics +7, Intimidate +3/6, Linguistics +6, Disable Device +7
*+4 stealth in dim light or darkness vs. foes without darkvision

SQ:
Link, Shadow Bound, Inhabit Shadow

Gear:
Elven Curve Blade, Cold Iron short sword, Studded Leather armor, Shortbow, 20 Cold Iron arrows, 20 normal arrows, 2xdagger, sap, bedroll, backpack, traveler's clothes, 50ft silk rope, 2 days rations.
2 gp.

Languages known:
Common, Elven, Draconic, Sylvan, Shae

SA:
Called (reroll a 1 on an attack 1/day)
Studied target +1
Track +1

Spell-Like abilities CL 1:
Disguise self 1/day

Spiritualist Spells known:
0th: Detect Magic, Light, Mage Hand, Message
1st: Dancing Darkness, Obscuring Mist

Spiritualist Spells per day:
1st: 2

Stalker (Ectoplasmic/Incorporeal)
N Medium Outsider(phantom)
Init + 2 (normally tries to match Shayde) Senses: Darkvision 60ft Perception+

Defense:
AC 14 Touch 12/15 FF 12/10 (+3 Dex, +2 natural/(+2 dodge, +1 deflection))
HP 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +1 Ref +6 Will +2

Offense:
2 Slams +3 (1d6+1 + weakening touch)

Statistics:
STR: 12 DEX: 14 CON: 13 INT: 7 WIS: 10 CHA: 13
Base Atk: +1 CMB: +3 CMD 14

Feats:
Lightning Reflexes, Deft Maneuvers

Skills:
Intimidate+ 5, Stealth + 6, Knowledge(Planes) +2, Sense Motive +4

SQ:
Link, Shadow Bound

Gear:
None

Shayde is a fair bit older than many involved in the battle at the Worldwound; exactly how much is unknown, as even Shayde himself does not know his precise age. Decades ago, Shayde bound himself to the Shadow, trading away his name and some memory of his past, and gaining the constant companionship of his own shadow in the form of Stalker, and a lifelong calling as Shadow's Champion. The exact details of this are unclear; Shayde does not speak of whatever pact he made, and whatever voice speaks to him of his missions and calling is inaudible to all others, though he sometimes communes with Stalker. For one who has been an active 'adventurer' for many years, Shayde is currently surprisingly weak; for some reason or other, the power that used to be his in the past waned when he set out to investigate the Worldwound in behalf of Shadow. While still much stronger than a typical warrior, Shayde was weakened enough that he found himself stretched too far, too deep in the Worldwound to safely escape on his own. At this time, whether through chance or fate, he was aided by a Desnan woman just as mysterious as he was, who guided him out to where he was able to silently follow a band of crusaders back to Kenabres. He sensed melancholy in her, and felt a certain level of kinship with a fellow walker in twilight; perhaps they shall meet gain someday. For now, however, Shayde stalks the streets of Kenabres, waiting for an opportunity to follow a group of crusaders into the Worldwound; he knows he does not have the power to complete his mission alone; he does not even know exactly what his mission is, save that something within the Worldwound is an affront to the Shadow; something lies within there that would twist Shadow and Darkness to evil, snuff out the Light, and banish the Twilight. And that he has been called to stop it.

Shayde has come to the Worldwound to stem the tide of demons that would defile the darkness. He comes on behalf of the Shadow; whether this be his own self-appointed duty or an actual calling from a supernatural entity is a question he has little interest in answering, but the presence of Stalker suggests that he has the support of some manner of shadow force. In this task the paladins and crusaders are his allies, but that does not always mean friends; Shayde knows that someday, one of them may become too zealous in their fight against darkness, and become his next target as he strives to uphold the balance between Light and Dark, and keep the Shadow pure.

Shayde is tall and wiry, and his skin is a pale, dusty gray. He prefers to keep covered in dark clothing, concealing his features beneath cloth and shadow. It's hard to tell exactly what subspecies of elf Shayde belongs to, as while he is clearly not a drow, he also doesn't fit in well with most known surface elves either, and has a natural affinity for twilight and darkness. The fact that he can easily change his own appearance further complicates matters.
Personality-wise, Shayde is closed about himself, answering personal questions with cryptic comments about shadow and twilight, never volunteering anything about his past. He reveres shadow, light, and darkness as neutral forces, and is always willing to point out that while light is associated with good, it can also burn and destroy, and while darkness is seen as evil, it also provides rest and respite from the relentless brightness of day, sheltering good and ill alike. Shayde is pragmatic in his methods, and seldom fights fair, but neither is he cruel. Combat is a job he has to do, and he neither hates nor revels in it.
Stalker, Shayde's shadow and companion, appears as a hulking, indistinct figure of semi-solid darkness, just barely translucent. It is humanoid, with clawed hands, and tapering legs that thin to the same width as the legs of Shayde's shadow at the tips. Stalker's face can be either nearly featureless save for pinpoints of dim light that serve as eyes, or a ferocious, bestial maw, with jagged jaws of thick darkness and glaring red eyes, depending on its intent.
Stalker is cold and nearly emotionless, fulfilling Shayde's orders and their mutual mission with logical precision and whispered comments in the language of shadows. But when something does manage to draw its ire, or stands in the way of its duty, Stalker can snarl and roar with the best of them, the lack of rage in its actions simply adding to the terror.

Shayde has been active for quite some time; he may already have enemies scattered around from older times, if they can manage to track him down.
Much of Shayde's past is a mystery even to himself; where in the world could this strange shadow-elf have come from?
Shayde finds the mere existence of shadow demons to be a direct affront to what he stands for, a corruption of the Shadow he serves; he would go out of his way to hunt one down if he heard of it.
I have left the exact nature of the pact Shayde has with Shadow deliberately vague; just what is this force he serves? Is it simply an ideal or a philosophy, or is there an actual supernatural entity directing him? And just what is the extent of his current mission?
Stalker may draw all kinds of odd attention, if it manifests somewhere public.
Speaking of Stalker, while it is undyingly loyal to Shayde, what might its other motivations be? Is it truly an emissary of Shadow, or simply a manifestation of Shayde's shadow powers?
With this mysterious entity around, there would also be the question of how it might be or might not be related to the Shadow.
There is also the question of what happened to drain away Shayde's old strength; was it an effect of something in the Worldwound? Or meddling by this mysterious Entity?

Shayde is not a frontline fighter; his damage will never rise as high as many others, and he lacks the durability to stay in combat long-term, even with Stalker to give backup. Instead, he will focus on stealth, subterfuge, and disruption; using spirit magic to weaken and confound foes, and exercise battlefield control. In a one-on-one fight, Shayde fights by opportunistically striking from stealth, then fading away before his foes can counter-attack, gradually wearing away at his enemies until he scores a luck hit or they give in to attrition, never staying where he can be hit if he can help it.

Male Lawbringer Aasimar (UC)Monk/Celestial Bloodrager 1
LG Medium Outsider (Native)
Init +2; Senses Perception +7
------------------------------
DEFENSE
------------------------------
AC 16, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+0 armor, +2dex, +3wis, +0shield, +1dodge) (+4dodge v AoO for movement)
hp 12
Fort +4 (2base + 2con), Ref +5 (2base + 2dex + 1trait), Will +5 (0base + 3wis + 2untyped)
------------------------------
OFFENSE
------------------------------
Speed 40 ft.

Melee
Unarmed Strike +4 (1bab + 3str), 1d6+3 B
Unarmed Flurry +4/+4 (1bab + 3str), 1d6+3 B (1d6 + 3str)
Unarmed Power Attack +3 (1bab + 3str - 1pa), 1d6+5 B (1d6 + 3str + 2pa)
Unarmed Flurry Power Attack +3/+3 (1bab + 3str - 1pa), 1d6+5 B (1d6 + 3str + 2pa)
Stunning Fist: Declare before attack, force damaged opponent DC14 Fort, Stun 1 round.

Ranged
Javelin +3 (1bab + 2dex), 1d6+3 (1d6 + 3str)
------------------------------
STATISTICS
------------------------------
Str 17, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 16, Cha 12
Base Atk +1; CMB +4 (1bab + 3str); CMD 15 (10 + 3str + 2dex)

Traits
1) Deft Dodger: +1trait to Reflex
2) Riftwarden Orphan: +2trait on all Concentration checks

Feats
FT) Combat Expertise: May -1Atk for +1dodge to AC (up every +4BAB)
FT) Power Attack: May -1Atk for +2Dam on melee (+50% for two-handed)
1) Iron Will: +2 on Will saves
BMF) Dodge: +1dodge to AC. FT - Increases to +4 v AoO caused when moving through threatened squares.
MF) Improved Unarmed Strike: 1d6. Considered Armed when Unarmed, no AoO when attacking unarmed. May deal lethal unarmed damage.
MF) Stunning Fist: 1/day (monk level), Declare before attack, Force damaged foe to make DC14 Fort sav (10+1/2level+Wis), Fail = stunned 1 round.

Skills (3 points; 4 class, -1 INT)
ACP -0

*ACP applies to these skills
Non-Standard Skill Bonuses
Acrobatics: +6 (2dex + 1rank + CS)
Climb: +3 (3str + CS)
Craft: -1 (-1int + CS)
Escape Artist: +2 (2dex + CS)
Handle Animal: Untrained (1cha + CS)
Intimidate: +1 (1cha + CS)
Know(Arcan): Untrained (-1int + CS)
Know(Hist): Untrained (-1int + CS)
Know(Relig): Untrained (-1int + CS)
Know(Planes): +1 (-1int + CS + 2racial)
Perception: +7 (3wis + 1rank + CS)
Perform: +1 (1cha + CS)
Profession: Untrained (3wis + CS)
Ride: +2 (2dex + CS)
Sense Motive: +7 (3wis + 1rank + CS)
Spellcraft: -1 (-1int + CS) (+2 to identify Evil Outsiders and items/effects)
Stealth: +2 (2dex + CS)
Survival: +3 ([3wis + CS)
Swim: +3 (3str + CS)

Languages Common, Celestial

------------------------------
SPECIAL ABILITIES
------------------------------
RA) Archon-blooded
R) Darkvision 60ft
RA) Crusading Magic: +2racial to Caster Checks overcoming Spell Resistance, +2racial Know(Planes), +2 Spellcraft to identify evil outsiders and items/effects created by evil outsiders. May use these skills untrained.
RA) Deathless Spirit: Resist 5 negative energy damage, do not lose hitpoints when gain -ve level, +2racial on saves v Death effects, energy drain, negative energy, Necromancy school spells.
RA) Alternate Physical: Shadow has angel wings

CM) AC Bonus: +Wis to AC and CMD when unarmored/unencumbered. Count towards Touch/FF.
CM) Bonus Feats: From list
CM) Flurry of Blows: Full-round attack, one additional attack at highest BAB (stacks with other bonus attacks)
CM) Stunning Fist: Bonus Feat
CM) Improved Unarmed Strike: Bonus Feat

CB) Bloodline: Celestial
CB) Bloodline Power: Angelic Attacks - Melee attacks considered Good-aligned for bypassing DR. When dealing damage to Evil Outsider deal additional 1d6 damage. Stacks with Align Weapon/Holy.
CB) Bloodrage: 6 rounds/day (4+2con), Enter as Free Action, gain +4morale to Str and Con, +2morale to Will saves, -2 to AC, +2HP/HD that disappear at end of rage. No Dex, Int or Cha skills while raging. End as Free, Fatigued for rounds = 2x in Bloodrage
CB) Fast Movement: +10 feet

C) Proficiencies: Simple/Martial, Light, Medium, Shields

------------------------------
Spells
------------------------------
+2 to Concentration Checks
No Spells until 4th Level
0th (at will)

1st (0/day)

------------------------------
GEAR/POSSESSIONS
------------------------------
Carrying Capacity
Light <87 lb. Medium 87-173 lb. Heavy 174-260 lb.
Current Load Carried 49.5 lb.

3x Javelin (1d6 P, x2, 30ft) - 2 lbs/each
Monk Outfit (worn) - 2 lbs
Silver Symbol of Iomedai - 1 lb
Backpack (worn) - 35 lbs (2 + 35.5 interior)
- Blanket, 50ft Rope, Soap, Torches (10), Trail Rations (5 days), Waterskin, 2x Waterproof Bag, Monk Outfit, 5x Sacks
Belt Pouch (worn) - 1/2 lb
Adventurer's Sash (worn) - 3 lbs
- 2x Potions of Cure Light
Spell Component Pouch (worn) - 2 lbs

Money 13 GP 5 SP 0 CP

Left with the night-shift Cleric at a relatively small chapel dedicated to Iomedai in Kenabres, the clergy of temple were shocked to find the spiral birthmark known as the Sign of the Seeker's Spiral adorning the shoulder of the baby. That a Riftwarden would leave their child in the care of the church was not so strange considering their dangerous occupation, but that they would leave the child without a word or message was nigh unheard of. The fact that the same child was also Aasimar, blessed by the touch of the clestial Archons, started rumours almost immediately across the echelons of the Iomedan faith. Swiftly plucked from the small chapel, the baby was named Agarith Goldheart and was brought to a small order of Iomedain warrior-monks training south of the city.

Agarith was kept cloistered for much of his life, hidden from both the world and the church at large, with the hope that such a blessed child might be molded into a warrior around whom another Crusade could be formed. These goals might have been too lofty, and their methods too strictured, for full success. Hidden away as he was, the young Aasimar certainly grew into a man of physical might bearing a spark of celestial battle fervor but he missed on much of what might have made him a good leader of warriors - his knowledge of the world, of simple facts of life and histories beyond those of the crusades, was limited. His ability to find camraderie was limited despite the fact that he was not an unlikeable person - the crusaders brought in to train him found him to be a worthy borther in arms, but not the inspiring leader that was hoped for. He was a warrior, disciplined and clearly burdgeoning with the power in his blood, but that was all.

Three decades after he was left on the stoop of that chapel, Agarith finally made a decision for himself. He had endured years of harsh living and endless training, pushed to his limits over and over again, and he wanted freedom. He wanted, dare he think it, a rest. And so he left.

The monks were shocked. An Inquisitor of the faith was sent to retrieve him as if he were a wandering tool. He avoided the Inquisitor in the wilds more by luck than by skill, but his lack of survival skills led him in a circle and eventually he came back near to a point he had already travelled - and right into the arms of Inquisitor Tomlin Faulk. First the Inquisitor demanded Agarith return with him, but the Aasimar refused. Then the Inquisitor threatened Agarith, but he refused again. Finally Inquisitor Faulk drew his sword, intending to teach the Church's supposed 'weapon' a lesson about the world, but instead he found himself rebuffed by an angel made flesh. Agarith, tapping into the burning frustration he could feel, burned with angelic fervor as his eyes turned to white coals spouting licks of flame and his hair to a heatless blaze of fire as he engaged the Inquisitor.

They fought, and Agarith was the one left standing. Taught the same lesson he had meant to dole out, Tomlin Faulk realized that perhaps his mission was faulted - the man standing before him was clearly blessed, and able to handle himself in the world. Perhaps the church had held on to him too closely and for too long. Providing some basic necessities to Agarith, Inquisitor Faulk escorted him to the gates of Kenabres and turned his back, allowing the Aasimar to disappear into the crowds.

Wandering the streets of the crusader city, Agarith quickly learned where to step and to keep his questions to himself. He strolled, marveling at the wonders of a civilization he had always been told he would protect but had never seen himself. Eventually, as the day wore on and sunset began to bath the city in red and gold, he wandered down a sidestreet near the eastern wall and found an old man sitting outside of a small chapel that seemed to have seen better days. The man, wiry and sporting a white beard halfway down his chest, was busy polishing a sword that seemed so large that he must have needed to drag it to the front stoop. Spotting Agarith watching him, the old man nodded to the Aasimar but continued his work in silence. When he was finished cleaning the blade, he began again. Agarith watched him do this three times as sunset turned to dusk, and then dusk to the heavy haze of evening.

Finally, Agarith approached and sat down next to the man. 'What is this sword, that you spend so much time to clean it even though no man could wield it?' he asked.

'You can see the sword?' The old man asked, clearly surprised. 'This sword belongs to Ragathiel, the General of Vengeance, my Empyreal Lord. It was gifted to me by my commander, and to him by his commander before, and on back to the very beginning of the First Crusade. Only those sworn to the Crimson Templars are gifted the ability to see it. Have you been sent to relieve me of my duty?'

'I have not,' Agarith answered. 'I have never heard of this Ragathiel. When is he meant to come claim his sword?'

'Never,' the old man said. 'The Hand of the Inheritor herself brought the sword, saying that our Empyreal Lord sent it for one who would come at a time of great need. The Hand served my lord until the fall of Aroden and was sent to aid Iomedai to bolster her. She said a son of Heaven would take up the sword.'

The words rung in the otherwise empty street, burned into Agarith. He felt a pull to the sword, a demand that he touch it.

'Perhaps I will live to see the day that the sword is wielded,' he said instead, standing and bowing to the elderly crusader to get away from the sword. The Crimson Templar nodded in return and went back to cleaning the long, heavy blade.

Agarith found a small inn nearby, using coin gifted to him by Faulk to pay for his room. The common room was busy and loud, the folk staying these excited for the gathering to happen on the morrow for Armasse celebrations.

Agarith is a physically powerful man having spent his entire life in martial training. With cream white skin and dark red hair, his bright blue eyes and regal features make him a striking and attractive despite the almost other-worldly essence he gives off in bright sunlight. Commonly wearing the simple, loose robes of his decades spent training, he wears the red adventurer's sash gifted to him by an Inquisitor over his otherwise bare abdomen, his silver holy symbol of Iomedai resting just above on his chest. His loose, flowing pants are pulled into almost knee-high leather boots, giving him an odd, almost Qadiran fashion that only 'works' because he is the kind of man who could wear anything. When Agarith is engaged in battle his face is often calm and still unless his ire is raised by his foe - at that point, the celestial archon blood in his veins ignites and his eyes turn to white cinders giving off licks of flame and his hair alights into a heatless white flame. Particularly perceptive folks will, whether he is in the throws of battle or not, notice that his shadow is strangely shapped and with enough study can find that it bears six angelic wings.

Raised amongst monks and cloistered away from society, Agarith is a calm and controlled man who is oddly innocent to the ways of the world. If someone shows they are willing to talk, and they seem trustful to him, they find that he is often burdened with questions kept at bay only by his iron focus. A man turned into a weapon, Agarith is only starting to truly learn about who he is in the world, but he has not turned his back from the mission the Church has given him and has not lost sight of their mission - to fight the Demon.