GM Shathira's Wrath of the Righteous

Game Master Kelarith

Grey Garrison

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GM Shathira wrote:
I will give one piece of advice.

Indeed. We are in agreement on this. It takes more time, but is worth it. In the end.

And you may ask, "Atlas, are you kind of player that promises much but doesn't deliver?"...

...and I'll look at you and whisper "No".

=)


Do you mind if we take a few liberties with the campaign trait hooks, or are those hooks as-is critical to the story? I have decided on a magus, taking the Riftwarden Orphan, and I was wondering if instead of having lost my parents, I could have lost a spouse shortly after marriage? Would that have a negative effect on the story?


If we're going ranger, what Favored Enemy should we bank on? I'm guessing something like Monstrous Humanoid or Outsider (evil) (I mean... it is about demons, after all), but I like to have some general idea.


Hi, I'd like to apply with Deimne Mac Cumhaill of clan Fenian.

Happy to take on board any suggestions or need for elaborations just let me know.


Nevermind my earlier query. I think I'm going with a different concept.


Hmm... This could be fun. I think I might throw my hat in the ring.

Actually this is the AP I have a burning hunger to play, a fervor and zeal matched only by the purest of crusaders. If accepted I will post every day as if the gods themselves had commanded.
P.S. I know there is only a smallish section in the backstory where I write as I would in a PBP. Just know I have been PBP'ing for a couple of years, and know the appropriate style of writing.


Aestereal, that's change is perfectly okay.


Here is my Wizard submission.

Riftwarden Orphan:
Kenabres. It's smell twisted the nose of those unaccustomed to it as Alex was. It had grown larger too, still many refugees sought safety here it seemed. He felt like a complete stranger. The others, travelers and locals together moving through the gates with him had an air about them he could not place. They did not seem like there was an important festival coming in less than a week here. This is not the spirit I remember. What's gotten into them. The celebration starts in less than a week but they go about it without the least bit of care.

He had finally come full circle and a strange feeling entered him as he walked the streets looking for a tavern or an inn with a room. He had only known the city for a few years as a boy before his foster parents sent him away to the south. It wasn't safe for him. He hadn't understood it then but now he had an idea why. He had a mark on his skin directly between his shoulder blades. He had spent his time growing up in Absalom researching the worldwound in addition to his usual studies. His parents had died out there somewhere and he wanted to know why. Of course his teachers cautioned him away from such enquiries, he himself knew that the mark he bore was no coincidental birthmark. He kept his research secret however, not wanting anyone else to try and stop his investigations. He told only one person, his best friend and fellow wizard apprentice Sandar. She always encouraged him to find out the truth about his past, dangerous though it might be.

He wished she had come with him to Kenabres, but he could not ask that of her. Too much unknown and danger lurked in the shadows of his parents disappearing. He was the son of Riftwardens. If he were to attract, even by accident, any of their enemies terrible things might happen. When he had left she seemed sad though he was not sure why. She knew he had to do this. He did not know it but if he had asked her to go with him she would have snuck away with him without a thought.

Finally he found a spare room in one inn, "The Hungry Rift" and once he had deposited his things he went for a walk around the city. It didn't take him long to find the residence of the foster family that looked after him for those few years. When he told them why he was back they cautioned him against it, "Only hardened crusaders should dare to combat the worldwound and it's inhabitants. You are a city boy Alex. This is not the land for you I'm sorry. I suggest you return after the festival is done and accept the face that some things are not meant to be known or messed with. Live a peaceful life far away from here and be happy." Useless, completely unhelpful. Nevertheless Alex left there undeterred. The idea of crusaders being sent into the worldwound to battle the demons lodged into his mind. Perhaps if he became a crusader. He would use the time he had before Armasse to find out more. Now he returned to the Inn in New Kenabres and began writing a letter, Dear Sandar, I am here safely. Little of interest happened on the journey...


Description and Personality:

Alex is slightly taller than average at a height of 6 feet on the dot. He has grey eyes and dark hair. He is 23 years old and had a very youthful figure though of less than average strength compared to others. He is a smart kid, usually the top of him class in almost every subject. He makes friends quickly and is not one to hold a grudge. He has something close to an obsession regarding all things magical, though especially artifacts and the other planes. Perhaps the strangest thing about him is the spiral shaped mark on his back known to some as the Riftwarden symbol. How it got there and what it means is foremost in his mind most days.


Aestereal here, with Tatyana Selitov. I was originally going to play an inquisitor, but as she developed as a personality, it became more and more clear than she wanted to be an arcane caster. Accordingly, she's now a magus instead. I have personality and appearance figured out, but I'm still working on the exact details of her background. I'll let you know when that's finished up.


Jens Varmodsson wrote:

I'd like to submit Jens Varmodsson, a character who's been in four WotR campaigns that have all died due to GM absences. Mechanically, he's an Ulfen cavalier with the Honor Guard archetype, focused on using his shield as much as (if not more than) his blade. His mount is a horse, and I'm aware that there are some limitations on large animal companions in the first part of the AP, which I'd be happy to work with. His mythic path will be guardian, and I'm planning on picking his mythic powers around taking damage for allies, putting himself in harm's way for them.

Conceptually, he's middle-aged (and I'd be willing to accept the age penalties for that, even though it would cripple me somewhat), and a veteran of the Foirth Crusade. His wife was killed and his children lost when the Wardstone at Kenabres was cracked, and he hasn't been the same since. He's been training new crusaders since the Fourth Crusade ended, and is getting tired of seeing young people dying on the frontlines.

I'm rather fond of this character, and look forward to your thoughts!

I'm quite full, between my DM & player PbP responsibilities, although this PbP seems like it will be alot of fun. However, I'd like to offer an unsolicited endorsement for Jens (El Ronza). Excellent role-player who offers very unique and well-crafted characters. It's been a pleasure to game with him (her).


Sorry if I'm overstepping here, but my OCD was acting up some and I had to do this.

Melee
• Xantrius - LG Pitborn Tiefling Paladin (Oathbound against Demons) - Child of the Crusade
• Godwin Solace - NG Lawbringer Aasimar Warpriest of Iomedae - Stolen Fury
• Ong'rag - LG Half-Orc Ranger - Stolen Fury
• Jens Varmodsson - NG Human Cavalier (Order of the Dragon) - Exposed to Awfulness
• Gramlag - CG Dwarf Fighter - Touched by Divinity
• Flynn Ryan Palomere - LG Human Paladin of Iomedae - Touched by Divinity
• Gressil Arneste - LG Human Fighter - Exposed to Awfulness
• Ali Asaidi - NG Human Inquisitor of Sarenrae - Touched by Divinity
• Tatyana Selitov - CN Tiefling Magus - Riftwarden Orphan

Ranged
• Deimme mac Cumhaill - NG Human Ranger - Riftwarden Orphan

Skill
• Raziel of Mendev - CG Pitborn Tiefling Ninja (Scout) - Stolen Fury
• Iolana Torlinni - CG Human Bard - Chance Encounter
• Drakra Worpltng - CG Gnome Bard (Court Bard) - Chance Encounter

Caster
• Piousa of the Stars - CG Aasimar Cleric of Desna - Touched by Divinity
• Alexander Torov - LG Human Wizard (Diviner) - Riftwarden Orphan
• Fomiel - CN Pitborn Tiefling Sorcerer (Abyssal) - Riftwarden Orphan
• Glade Wolf - CG Human Sorcerer (Fire Elemental) - Riftwarden Orphan
• Ali Asaidi - NG Human Inquisitor of Sarenrae - Touched by Divinity
• Claylyth Hatril - CN Elf Witch - Riftwarden Orphan


Much appreciated, Piousa.


Yup thanks very much Piousa.


Throwing out a dot for interest. Will get a rogue up later.


Thanks Piousa. As much as I'd like Deimne to be in a group by himself he really isn't a ranged ranger. He is heading towards Eldritch Knight, so put him under melee or caster (or make a hybrid grouping and chuck him in there with the other hybrid characters).


Tatyana's backstory is now up on her alias. I might make some small edits, but for the most part, she's ready.


No problem, I'm just mildly OCD and like lists.

@Tim Woodhams: Now that I look at your profile some more, you're right. I apologize for the confusion on it.


glade wolf is neutral good, you have him labeled as CG.


Haha. Looking at Godwin Solace I really should have him as Lawful Good. Mistake was on my part.


Backstory:
When the Worldwound opened, the Kellid barbarian tribes were forced from their homeland of Sarkoris by the demonic horde. South and west these people fled and among them was a young woman called Onna. Onna’s people suffered in the winter but the hardy Kellids survived and for a time took refuge with a wandering Orc tribe that had come much to far east from Belkzan. Cut off from their homeland and in dire straits like the Kellids, these Orcs put aside their brutal nature and banded with Onna’s tribe. Alone in the wilds, harried by the ever expanding demonic forces, these two small clans fought and survived together.

For years the now intermingled tribes of humans and orcs lived a rough and nomadic lifestyle. Fighting them and losing men to the demons that would come in the night or if they stayed in one place too long, led to a culture of warriors who were fiercely opposed to demon kind and sent warriors when able to aid the crusades against the world wound, thus hopefully taking back their homeland.

At the age of 30 Onna along with her mate, the Orc Chieftain's son Ragga, bore a son who was a strong and fierce child. They called him On’rag combining their names. The boy grew strong, even in a harsh environment and his mother and father taught him to survive and hunt in the wilds.

Now the fear of something gives it power, and the tribesmen who hated the demons, sometimes gave in to their fear and worshipped the demons in secret, hoping to appease them and spare their loved ones. Particularly the worship of Baphomet became popular especially amongst the orcs to whom demon worship was not a foreign concept.

On’rag was a young half orc nearly ten years old. He scouted in these new hunting grounds that his tribe had recently set up camp in. The cool smell of the cold air filling his lungs as he sniffed the air. He walked further on, stay along the banks of a frozen river, the stag tracks were fresh enough, and his tribe needed the meat. A scent caught his attention, and On’rag whirled around, a large orc stood behind him.
“Yyagga? I didn’t know you were hunting this area as well.” the youngling said. Yyagga was a tribal shaman, a large and powerful orc.
“Oh I am little orcling.” the shaman said with a cruel smile.

On’rag woke in a dark cave, shivering and wet, his eyes adjusted quickly to the low light. All around him were figures in red and black robes, he was tied to the floor, white outlines of unholy symbols surrounded him, the scent in the air told him they were most likely drawn from animal fat. The figures were hooded, and he only recognized Yyagga from the large Orcs outline. A ritual proceeded with deep rhythmic chanting. They spoke in a growling harsh language, that On’rag didn’t recognize it. When he tried to struggle, he was held in place by ropes and a strange energy that had started to build. Panicking he tried with all his might as the chanting reached a crescendo, and he broke free, right as a dark energy grasped at him. An explosion of light followed and he ran. Ran from the cave, through the woods in the cold with nothing but his small clothes on.

After a day and a night afraid and alone in the woods, he found his tribe. He explained what had happened to him and that Yyagga had been responsible. His father took some of the warriors and found the cave, now empty and spent several days trying to track the cultists to no avail. When his father returned, he drew a symbol for Onna and said that he had found it in the cave. She identified it as the symbol of the demon lord Baphomet. From that day forward On’rag nurtured a true and unyielding hatred for demon kind in his heart, with a special place for those who worshipped the lord of beasts.

When grown, he left his tribe to join the crusade, and hunt down those who had tried to use him, to change him.

Personality:
On'rag is usually blunt. His form of good deed is more along the lines of merciless destruction of evil than helping the poor or preaching in the street. He is a fiercely loyal friend to those who have earned his trust and respect.

Appearance:


Going for something a bit different with this submission as a tiefling ranger (trapper)/rogue (knife master). Hope it works...

background for Zoren: a tale of 2 halves:

Zoren was brought into this world a tiefling and a tiefling he shall always be. His father was a rapist whom his mother, a drug addict, never admitted to knowing his name. With that as a start it was a miracle that Zoren even managed to be born under the circumstances. Yet Zoren came into a harsh and cruel world where nothing was given and everything had to be taken, usually by force but by guile if possible. Zoren grew up stealing food and money to just survive himself and to avoid his abusive mother's torment. If he did not bring in enough of either then she would whip him until she finally tired. The most that can be said about his child hood was that it toughened him up quickly and forced him to learn and adapt to survive. There is more to the story about the harshness he suffered but you get the point. As a child he still 'loved' his mother as only a child could but eventually that faded away as well. what was left was a desiccated husk of a person looking for belonging and a sense of satisfaction in life.

Not finding it in the normal places that people seek (home for example) Zoren sought out his own kind as soon as he felt himself capable of living on his own. His heritage lead him to the Worldwound where he spent his time joining cults and worshipping demons. While not loved, he was cared for and taken in by the group. He learned about the struggle that the demons faced in entering this world and how someday they would succeed. It was just a matter of time before they did. It was inevitable. Those that had joined on the demons side would be in a position of power and authority once that time came. Zoren threw himself into the effort and did whatever it was that was necessary for him to belong. Being quick witted and sharp eyed he would help set ambushes on 'crusaders' and partake of the glorious deaths of his foes. It was a glorious life and one that he felt had meaning and purpose.

A few times he even witnessed the coming of demons as the cult would perform dark rituals to summon them from the planes. these times were pinnacles of the cult's triumphs and usually took place after particularly nasty ambushes where those 'crusaders' that still lived were sacrificed.

In a few days another such ritual was to take place as the group had just succeeded in capturing a lost innocent human child. The fact that it was pure and innocent meant that the sacrifice would be even better than before. A large gathering had assembled and was preparing for the festivities. That night though something happened that Zoren never expected as he was guarding the child. A figure appeared out of the darkness. Perhaps he was the only one to see it due to his darkvision as he was the only one to move towards the figure. As he moved closer he saw that it was a woman. Thinking to capture her and curry favor with the cult he did not call out to the others. Should he do this on his own it would prove his merit and skill.

As he was 20 ft from the woman though he got a look at her face. She was sad beyond all belief. It seemed that she was looking for someone until she saw you. Speaking his name Zoren stopped mid stride and stared at her trying to figure out who she was. He could not but she knew him apparently. She moved closer to him till she hovered right next to him. Zoren felt paralyzed by her until she whispered in his ear. He stood there mesmerized listening to her talk with him nodding his head in agreement. Her words resonated in his soul pulling on strings he did not know existed. When she was done talking he looked around and took in the full view of what was about to happen. Nodding one last time to her he agreed to what she said. Using those same skills that made him an asset to the cult he and the woman rescued the child racing away into the night.

The next morning, just as the sun was about to break over the horizon, she left as quietly as she appeared. From the direction she came though was a small contingent of crusaders from Kenebras. Half of Zoren wanted to reach and draw his weapons so accustomed was he to the sight of the crusaders. Yet as he moved his hand the words from the previous night cam e back to him and he instead moved his hand to that of the child's.

Clearly you can see that Zoren is going for the redemption story route. The trait Chance Encounter was modified slightly but I hope it works for you. As a tiefling and an extended life span this could take place within a 30 year window. This would give any other character with this trait a chance to be the child or be a completely separate situation. I have it in my head that this happened recently though and Zoren is still neutral on the alignment axis but is working towards becoming good. By helping the crusaders he figures that is the best way to right his wrongs and pay off his debt to society. I have him taking 2 levels of ranger and then switching to rogue after that. The ranger levels are there to explain his knowledge of demons and his skill set. Please let me know if you have any questions. I will have the crunch done later. Thanks for running this.


Starting out as ranger for 2 levels then going rogue...

crunch for Zoren:

Tiefling ranger (trapper) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide 168, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Magic 65)
NG Medium outsider (native)
Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 Dex, +1 dodge, +3 studded leather)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +0
Resist cold 5, electricity 5, fire 5
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +3 (1d4+2/19-20) or
dagger +3 (1d4+2/19-20) or
falchion +3 (2d4+3/18-20)
Ranged longbow +4 (1d8/×3)
Special Attacks favored enemy (evil outsiders +2)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +0)
1/day—darkness
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 17
Feats Dodge
Traits chance encounter, resilient
Skills Bluff +1, Climb +6, Disable Device +8, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +7, Knowledge (geography) +7, Knowledge (nature) +7, Perception +4, Stealth +9, Survival +4, Swim +6; Racial Modifiers +2 Bluff, +2 Stealth
Languages Abyssal, Common, Dwarven, Elven, Infernal
SQ track +1, trapfinding +1, wild empathy +0
Other Gear studded leather, arrows (20), blunt arrows (20), dagger, dagger, falchion, longbow, bedroll, belt pouch, fishhook, flint and steel, masterwork backpack, sack, silk rope (50 ft.), thieves' tools, trail rations (3), twine (50'), waterskin, whetstone, 23 gp, 1 sp, 7 cp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Chance Encounter (1/day) Re-reroll failed Acrobatics, Bluff, Disguise, Sleight of Hand or Stealth check, keep 2nd result.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Energy Resistance, Fire (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Fire attacks.
Favored Enemy (Evil Outsiders +2) (Ex) +2 to rolls vs. Favored Enemy (Evil Outsiders) foes.
Prehensile tail carry items or retrieve stored items as a swift action
Track +1 Add the listed bonus to survival checks made to track.
Trapfinding +1 Gain a bonus to find or disable traps, including magical ones.
Wild Empathy +0 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.

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Lantern Lodge

This is a very similar build to another that I am wanting to give a try out on.

Selindra:
Selindra Shieldsister
Human (tian-shu) paladin (warrior of the holy light, hospitaler) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 116, 118)
LG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +0
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +2 shield)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +2; +2 vs. death
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee longsword +3 (1d8+2/19-20)
Special Attacks smite evil 1/day (+3 attack and AC, +1 damage)
Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 0th; concentration +3)
. . At will—detect evil
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 15
Feats Antagonize[UM], Fey Foundling[ISWG]
Traits exposed to awfulness, reactionary
Skills Acrobatics -4 (-8 to jump), Diplomacy +7, Heal +4, Intimidate +4, Sense Motive +4
Languages Common, Tien
Other Gear scale mail, heavy steel shield, longsword, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, buttons (0.1 lb), conditioning oil for leather (0.4 lb), file, small (0.1 lb), flint and steel, hemp rope (100 ft.), holy text, leather paring knife (0.5 lb), leather straps (0.4 lb), mess kit, metal polish (0.3 lb), pot, sewing needle, silver holy symbol of Iomedae, soap, soft cloth (0.1 lb) (2), torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, wooden holy symbol of Iomedae, 48 gp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Antagonize Use Diplomacy or Intimidate to goad creatures
Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell).
Exposed to Awfulness (1/day) Vs Death/Incapacitation by demon: Reroll saving throw as free action, keep 2nd result.
Fey Foundling Magical healing works better on you
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +3 to hit, +1 to damage, +3 deflection bonus to AC when used.

Story:
High priest Darius looked out over the contingent of paladins that they were sending to Kenebras to aid the efforts of the Crusaders. Their temple was not many, but their strength was not in numbers but in quality. He scanned the newly trained men and women, making certain that each was ready, then his eyes fell on her. Selindra, my child, how far you came.

He flashed back in his thoughts, to all those long years ago. Selindra came to them as a child, gravely wounded when the temple had to react to a demon attack. Several of the foul creatures had slipped the containment of the wardstones, and were it not for the temple being so close, many lives would have been lost that day. Selindra was almost one of them. The child was cut to nearly beyond recognition. Gashes and bites out of her flesh, blood everywhere. Two Paladins of the Seventh Temple gave their lives defending her. Brought to my chambers, I thought her dead, until I saw the Inheritor's light on her. I don't know what compelled me to act child, but by the Lady's shield, you survived those wounds. I never was able to repair many of the scars, though your face was untouched. But somehow, your will and the Lady kept you alive, and you have been stronger for it.

Such fire and devotion I have never seen, and Iomedae's light shines in you child. I send these men and women to fight, but you, I pray, are our answer to prayer. I pray that in sending you, perhaps we can win. Firey hair, strong sound body, a warrior's physique. Your voice carrying above the battle gives me images of Iomedae leading the charge.

You have much experience to gain, and perhaps we have sheltered you too much. You have not seen much of the world, and its evils. In many ways you are ignorant of the outside world, but the Heavens help me if your faith cannot see you through.

As you go, so go our prayers with you. It is your turn, you brave souls, to travel the river road, to serve the year of battle against the demons of the wound. May the inheritors grace watch over you, and always remember.

Selindra turned her gaze north, and looked to her fellows, before drawing her sword. She raised it to the sky, a light catching the blade as she spoke. "Come, comrades. We make for Kenebras, and the Wound. In the Inheritor's name: For Victory, For the Heart!"

Oh, and hey Ronnie..., I see you!


Please note the Player Expectations thread in the header :D


I like it. Gives clear expectations.


Yup sounds good to me. Keeping the game moving is very important. In too many games that seem to have ground down :(


I'm always on. At the very least in the morning and evening, and during the day at times as long as RL does not interfere with my gaming habit.


I don't have any issues with those expectations at all. as I might have said, I'm currently running a pair of games, and I'm in several others. I'm pretty active when I'm not at work.


Looks good to me. I like the one about leaving hooks for other players. On the topic of posting daily, I'm on holiday overseas for two weeks in January and I'm not sure how much access to Internet I'll have (otherwise good).


@Tim, but a note for everyone. If you're going to be away, that's fine, and even better if you give notice. During the time a player's away, I can GMbot them.

Silver Crusade

Thanks for the info, very clear. I am able to log on several times a day, so I should have no problem keeping up.

Liberty's Edge

This is the promised character from Atlas2112.

And, as promised, I have put some effort into her backstory. It is a poor work, but I hope you find it to your liking.

Backstory!:

Working in Father's tavern was boring.

At the ripe age of 7 Liath had a full two years of scurrying around with dirty mugs and dirty trays under her belt. The patrons and the coppers they threw at her were pleasant enough, but nothing seemed to change. The tavern was the same, the patrons were the same, the whole city of Alvis seemed to stay the same.

One night a band of men walked in. Loud they were and strangely dressed, with leather and steel freely scattered about their persons. They ordered much wine and meat, and throughout their debauch Liath's gaze never strayed long from he who must surely be their leader; a man with hair as yellow as her own, rich green eyes and hard, lean limbs, With stories both funny and daring he entertained the overly-muscled barbarian lout sitting next to him. Thrice she tried to talk to him, and thrice was ignored. No doubt he saw her as just another child. That would need to change.

Their loud talk revealed them to be caravan guards, and they were due to be off to far lands at dawn. A plan took form in her young head.

Before the first rays of sun touched the tavern's thatched roof, Liath rose and dressed. She stuffed a sack full of bread and meat and padded softly out the door to the caravaners' quarter. Already were hostelers tending to wakened horses, but she found a cart of bales unguarded and stuffed herself snugly in. And promptly fell asleep.

She awoke with the sun streaming strongly through the bars of the wagon as it rolled along some unknown plain. She stole a glance about her and Fortune favored her for her beloved green-eyed man walked steadily beside her wagon! Her brain raced quickly for how to make an appearance both noble and shocking.

So of course she sneezed. Loudly.

The blond man jumped only a little, but in a moment's time his strong arm dug her out of the bales and held her firm by the scruff of the neck.

"You're a bit far from home, Cupcake," he said, a small smile growing on his lips.

"Put me down! And I'm no Cupcake!" she spat back, trying to scare him, but it only made his smile broaden.

"Forgive me, noble woman. I thought by your small stature you were a child a long way from home. I did not know that I was in the presence of a warrior-maiden." He made a small bow, and did finally put her down.

He caught up to his lout of a companion and exchanged some words. They must have been talking about her because the muscled brute looked back in her direction, his eyes looking like blazing ice. In time her lovely man jogged back to her.

"What is your name, fair lass," he said, sounding only a little condescending as the rest of the caravan slowly walked past them.

"I am Liath Gwenilian!" she declared, trying to sound as important as possible.

"Well, miss Gwenilian, my name is Subuht, and my companion is...," he shot a look behind him, and seemed to dismiss his first thought, "...very glad to meet you. It will do us no good to start back now, so you can remain in your hiding spot until the caravan stops for the night. Then in the morning I'll politely borrow a horse and see you returned, safe and sound. How does that sound?" It was clear this was not a question.

"So, I get to stay?" she said, having only heard that part.

"Well, um, yes, but only for the night."

"I get to stay with you? All night long?"

"In a matter of speaking...yes."

"Excellent!" she said, already satisfied that her plan had worked.

With a wry grin on his face Subuht picked her up and jogged back to her wagon, placing her snugly back in her spot. She got out a small loaf of bread and snacked happily, wondering what a man and woman might do during the night. She had not the faintest idea.

In time night came and the caravan stopped. True to his word Subuht gathered Liath up and allowed her to sit next to him. Her eyes never blinked as she sat around the guards' fire, eating up their stories and sampling their bowls of spicy meat stew. Over Subuht's insistence she even snuck a sip of wine from the skin they were passing around, marvelling at it's heady flavor.

As the moon marched on her lids grew heavy and Subuht carried her dozing form to a small tent he had set up just for her. As he laid her down among soft sheets she came half awake.

"Will you stay with me?"

"I will be right outside, little Cupcake. Sleep now."

And she did.

Until the raiders came.

The moon hung high as a hundred turbaned fighters on brown warhorses crashed upon the caravan, shouting ululating cries and brandishing shining tulwars. A dozen guards were cut down in their first rush and the camp buzzed like an anthill with every body running in a different direction.

Liath woke with a start and rushed to put on cloak and boots. She ran outside to see Subuht and the his companion trading sword blows with the mounted bandits. Subuht's rapier slid quickly into the belly of one horseman, while the straight-bladed broadsword of his barbarian friend shore the leg from another.

"There! She has the Mark!"

Liath heard the cry and turned to see where it came from just as a horseman raced by and grabbed her, firmly depositing her in front of him as he galloped off, screaming, "I have her! Retreat!"

As the bandits turned and executed a withdrawal, their running forms were chased by a mighty yell. "Cowardly dogs! By Mitra come back and die!"

For many days and nights she endured transport, laying across the horse like a sack of meal as her stomach was beaten into a solid bruise from the gyrations of the horse. Both cries and questions were answered with stony silence, and in her panic she realized that this was not how she thought her plan would go.

After one fitful bout of sleep she woke, naked and trussed on some stone alter. Her eyes, wide with freight, looked about her. The room was a dull brown stone dome, with a single great staircase along one side. She saw others, children all, in likewise condition, and surrounding them were some dozen figures in robes the color of mottled blood.

One such figure noticed her wakefulness.

"The Mark has wakened. Finish with the Godwin Angel and prepare her."

The speaker came and stood over her, putting back the cowl of his robe as he did so. Now she saw what surrounded her. These were not men at nefarious purpose, nor some race of demi-human preparing a mere meal.

The man-like creature above her had horns. Horns of a demon.

Several infernal companions joined him and began anointing her with salves and paints, chanting long-forgotten tongues. But one sound they repeated many times, until, whether she willed it or no, she memorized it.

And would never forget it again.

The sound was "Khorramzedah."

And always above her a demon with curly horns and pointed teeth held a wicked dagger. Her eyes focused on it. Memorized it. Bonded with it.

This was the weapon that would kill her.

At long last her entire body, and the body of every child there, was covered in runes and characters of unholy power. The chanting had gone on so long that when at last it stopped it horrified her, and she wished as hard as she could that it would not stop.

"She is to be first. Do it now."

The dagger rose.

"By Mitra's great teats what goes here?"

All in the room were startled by the booming pronouncement. The one above Liath, the one with the dagger, the leader, answer back the speaker. "Who are you to so foolishly interrupt us?"

For reply a new form strode down the stair. It was the lout. His mane of black hair seemed to flow with rage, and his blue eyes burned with fury.

"You may know it was Amra the Lion that stopped your infernal rites!"

"Fool! We are beyond such mortal threats! Forces greater than you are at work here!"

"We shall see how great your forces are with a yard of steel in your guts!"

Without another word he drew his straight-edged broadsword and laid about them. The demons smote and clawed and bit him, but he wove before him a web of steel that their forms could not penetrate enough for a mortal wound.

During the blood-filled chaos, Subuht appeared at her side and with four strong strokes he cut her bonds.

"Run girl! We've not yet finished our dance, but you may make it to safety!"

Liath hopped down and crouched by the alter, but an egress was not yet for her. She snatched at the closest weapon she saw, a long spear with a half-moon sprouting along it's blade. She pried it from the dead hands of the demon who had owned it and looked about.

Subuht was now hard pressed by a trio of demons who had him pinned against the wall. Naked, starving, and festooned with sigils, she stole up behind them and thrust.

The blow was true and the speartip sprouted from the other side of the cultist. His sudden death shocked the other two demons, giving Subuht enough of an opening to cleave their heads from their neck.

The black-haired lout finished the last of the foes, and quickly cut the bonds of the other the children, who in their own turn ran out of the passage, where local authorities waited for them with blankets and warm cups.

Subuht scooped her up, and, still clutching her spear, she hugged him fiercely. But as she was carried out of the dome, she only had eyes for the hulking form of Amra. The Lion. The only man she could ever love.

A day's ride out of the city, she and Subuht made camp. As she supped on dried meat and fruit Subuht asked her her thoughts. She realized she'd not spoken for a day, and decided now was a good time.

"I can't go back there," she said, meaning Alvis. She finished her sparse meal and Subuht handed her a whetstone. She spat upon it and started working on her spear's blade. Sharpening blades was her first job at the tavern, and this seemed no different.

Subuht nodded in understanding. It was clear that the demons would try again, and a tavern was less secure than even a caravan camp.

"And I must strike back. Even dead, their faces swim before me." She continued working on the blade.

"There is a city where you would be safe. It is called Mendev, and it is an armed camp against the looming demon tide. There you would be safe, and taught how to strike back.

"You will take me there," she said. It was not a question.

"I will," he answered. "But first I'll teach you a thing or too about that weapon you have bonded with. For starters, it's not a 'spear'. It's called a 'ranseur'. And you don't just thrust with it. You thrust...and twist!"

The afternoon sun shined down on an odd site. And for Mendev, Home of the Crusades, to see an odd sight was a rare thing indeed.

A tall man and a short girl rode up to the city's gates. The girl hugged the man fiercely, then dismounted and strode her way up to the guard, trailing a long spear behind her. The man waited for her not. He called out "I promise to tell them!" and rode away.

"This is no place for girls," said a guard. He was called Fertch, and his shift was nearly up. He had thoughts of warm mugs of ale and warmer company. A child with a spear was something he did not need. "You are too young for the Great Crusade and too old to be accepted into training. Mount thy horse and spurn fast to catch up with your father."

"He is not my father, thought he carries a message for him. That message is that I am to join the Great Crusade. And I'll best any swordsman you put against me."

This was met by hearty chuckles from the guards. It has been a long day and the humor was welcome, but the joke had been had.

"Fair 'nuff," said Fertch. He drew sword and the girl answered with a battle-stance of her own. The stance was solid enough, but she'd turn heel fast enough with a few smacks with the flat of the blade on her backside. He advanced toward her.

She thrust...and twisted.

Fertch's sword went flying four feet and landed in the dirt, greeted by honest laughter from his corp of guards.

Fertch shook his head to clear out whatever dream this was. Yes, he'd had almost a full jug last night, but he couldn't still be drunk. Could he?

He retrieved his sword and took a firmer grip on it. He advanced again, setting his jaw to end this game.

This time the girl sent his sword five feet away.

Thrice again he advanced on the girl, the final two times charging at a dead run, the sword held in battle-grip, only barely remembered that he was going to use the flat and not the edge. Each time the blade left his hand, and the last time the girl cracked him on the head for his trouble.

One of the guards stopped laughing long enough to catch his breath. "Please, friend Fertch, stay thy hand. The ground cries with the beating your mighty sword is giving it! I will get the Master."

In time the Blademaster Publius Varus came before Liath, and accepted her into the Order of Iomedae.

Fifteen years have past since that day. At last she is no longer called "Acolyte" but now "Warpriest". At last she will carry the fight to the demons.

At last she will walk her road.

The road to slay Khorramzedah the Storm Lord.


I've been really looking forward to joining a great Wrath of Righteous campaign. Thinking I'll submit a human range focused Ranger, which I've started on this particular profile.


Would like to submit my paladin Hospitaler for consideration to this campain.

Eibon Elders Page


@ Goblin
Voren applied for a different WotR game....
XD


With 20 submissions for 4 spots, I'm going to end the first part of recruitment on Sunday. So if you have any edits to be made to backgrounds to enhance them, now would be the time. After Sunday, I will be starting the in character phase of this recruitment, which will be the festival Armasse. Any character submissions made after the IC portion of this will be ignored, unless the player contacts me via PM.


Is it ok if I continue posting with this alias or would you prefer I create one for Godwin? Actually I think I'll go ahead and make one :)


Tatyana is excited to RP. Her backstory is kind of blandly-written, but I couldn't think of a more exciting way to write it without a major wall-of-text, so I'm hoping to flesh her out more strongly during the RP. I should say I'll be traveling during one of those days, so it could be tough to post.


Heads up: Piousa will be getting a small overhaul of their background, but nothing to major (just want to add a few small things)


cleaned up my horrible wall of text backstory to something i think is a bit more streamlined and to the point, ive never been fond of backstory blurbs for characters as i always like building it as i go, but i think this one is far better than what i had.

edit: also , im new to PBP games, ive played pathfinder for a long whiel but im not 100% on the standard practices for PBP yet, so if i mess soemthing up let me know


And Piousa's background has been slightly edited!


Okay, here we are. Customer submissions are now closed, and the in character RP section is beginning. The object here is for the characters to interact with the city during the festival, and each other. The four characters that I choose will continue on. I plan on letting this run for a week, maybe two, to give leeway for the holidays. Also depending on how the RP is going will determine a longer or shorter duration.

I am not looking for quantity of posts, or length. What I'm looking for is how well you react to others and how well you feed others.


After weeks of waiting, Armasse has finally arrived. People from all over have come. Priests and Scholars have come together to study the lessons of history, young warriors have come to participate in tourneys, and knights from all over seek to new squires. Jousting tournaments, mock battles, and battle reenactments take place in Clydwell Plaza, just west of where the cathedral stands. In the Cathedral, religious ceremonies take place, including the ordainment of new priests.

You have all been lucky enough to find a spot for the opening of the festival. The blessing of the festival is going to be done by Lord Hulrun himself, the ruler of Kenabres. The crowd gathers in Clydwell Plaza and quiets as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor.

"Welcome all, to this festival of Armasse. May you all enjoy this time of peace and forget your woes, and troubles, and let the Kenabres entertain you during this week. May Iomedae watch over you all and bless you and this festival."

With that, Hulrun steps away from the podium, and the a large cheer resounds from the throng, and Armasse has started!


Excited to begin.

Godwin smiles as he takes in the festive atmosphere. This would be his first Armasse as a fully fledged warpriest no longer under the tutelage of the Church of Iomedae. It wasn't the most pious time of the year but he had always figured that the Inheritor appreciated the remembrance of her mentor in this fashion.

It was an opinion that was far more in keeping with his foster mother's philosophy than his foster father's. Still he was his own man now, free to make his own decisions as long as they did not interfere with his service to Iomedae. An unfamiliar feeling of freedom grips him, his smile widens to a grin, his angelic eyes shine bright, and he walks out into the revelry.


"Well, Tats, no turning back now," her husband's voice whispers from somewhere in her head. She moves from her spot, half-in and half-out of a narrow alley, as Lord Hulrun finishes the last words of his speech. Moving through the crowd she feels a few eyes on her, and once has to flick her tail away from a child who tries to pull it, but she manages to find her way through the festivities to the doorways of the cathedral. "Tats? Tats? are you certain you had to sell off the shop? Perhaps you could have been content there, and it could have given you some stability. You remember that word, right?" Roj's voice threatens to go on and on, but she places a hand on her forehead and the spell subsides.

She pauses for a moment at the entrance to the cathedral, listening to the ordainment happening inside, and makes her way to the mock battles instead.


The day has finally arrived, the festival of Armasse. I've been looking forward to this for a while now, I hope people are free with their purses for entertainment, I need a good haul to get through the next few months. Iolana wanders around for a short while, taking in the sights and looking for a good place to perform from. She finally sees a good place where she has some space to work with. She kneels down and straps a set of bells to her ankles and wrists and yells at Godwin as he walks by, "Sir," she points to him, "yes you sir! Can you keep a beat for me? It goes like this." She claps her hands together hard twice and then follows it up with three short staccato claps.


This was the first festival Gramlag had seen that was attended by people other than dwarves, he was excited to be part of the revelry join in the fun to be had.

First stop for him would be the tournaments, something along the lines of single combat was his favorite, perhaps there he could get a good show, or if he was lucky participate! He loved a good match against an opponent he didnt know, got the blood pumping. and even if he didnt get a match perhaps he could meet someone there who knew the city and show him around as he was still a tad new to the city.

All things concidered he expected a good time and things were looking to go exactly down that road.


The well-dressed courtier seems to be comfortable in the crowd by the nobles as Lord Hulrun takes the stage. His dress and grooming seem to be similar to that of the nobility of Cheliax, the land of the devil worshippers.

The comely, androgynous man is dressed in a silk courtier's outfit, and he would look almost like manly perfection except he has a large 'unihorn' spanning his face and sticking out of the locks of luxurious black hair he wears long.

Rather than looking at the sparring matches, he seems to have his gaze lingering for moments on the other nobles as if making a quick assessment before moving on to the next. His mannerisms are reminiscent of an animal low on the food chain assessing the threats around him before drinking at a watering hole.

Let us see if you are empty as Chelaxian rulers, Lord Hulrun. I expect more of those on the edge of the Worldwound than in complacent Cheliax.


Ali breathes deep, taking in the sights and sounds. A festival. Even in such desperate place such as this part of the world, the human spirit shall conquer. No matter how many demons. No matter how any corrupted people. The good people shall prevail.

With his delicate, orange and yellow silk robe swaying as he walks, Ali paints a picture that contrasts heavily with the locals. His tanned skin stands out among the paler hues of the natives almost as much as his curved blade stands out among the straighter swords favored by the warriors of this part of the world. His reverie of his homeland is broken by the sound of music.

Iolana Torlinni wrote:
... She kneels down and straps a set of bells to her ankles and wrists and yells at Godwin as he walks by, "Sir," she points to him, "yes you sir! Can you keep a beat for me? It goes like this." She claps her hands together hard twice and then follows it up with three short staccato claps.

Now music and dancing, this was something he appreciats, even if it isn't the sultry rhythm that he is used to. Not waiting for others to start clapping, Ali bends his fingers to curve his hands and starts clapping following the beat.

He nods to the impromptu dancer and starts swaying to the beat, almost as he wanting to join. Not now. Just clap. You know you're not the best dancer.

As the girl moves to the beat, bells in tune with his palms, he venturs a smile and speaks with a thick accent, "Girl, where did you learn this rhythm? What part of world dances this way?"

tag?

Liberty's Edge

A statuesque woman in gleaming breastplate strides down the street, a polearm of odd make strapped tightly to her back.

Liath sees Godwin getting instructions from some purple-clad entertainer bedecked in scarves and bells, and steps in to shake his hand. "It is good to see you, brother," she says in a booming monotone. "I hope to march with you someday." Whether she means the statement as one warpriest of Iomedae speaking to another, or whether there is some other, unspoken reasoning, is left unclear. Perhaps she herself doesn't understand, simply knowing that it seemed right at the time.
She turns to the entertainer. ""Apologies, you may have your...boyfriend...back now." She speaks the word 'boyfriend' as if it's a particularly debilitating disease.

Liath turns and spies a dwarf that seems to be made of heavy spiked shields walking down the promenade whose eyes seem to be glued to the combatant's ring. "Greetings, friend dwarf. If it's the lists you've a hand for, I know the warmaster in charge, and can have your name added to the rolls, if you desire?"

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