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Llaelian's Slumbering Tsar

Game Master Llaelian

Who will be strong and fool enough to discover the secrets lying in the bowels of the evil Tsar?


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For the last months, each of you has been beset by dreams of a dark city looming on the horizon and warned about the danger it represented. While very cryptic, they have shown you the way to Bard's gate, a city set south a a vast and dangerous land called the Desolation. there, the dreams have urged you to go north, showing you images of a few human-like figures, reaching one by one a fire at the base of a hill.

The wind always blows on the barren road leading north from Bard's Gate and the paved way quickly gives way to a packed earth road that winds through the low hills. Flashes half remembered from the dreams that plagued you fit perfectly with the scenery, telling you to push forwards.

As the sun is about to set, you see the light of a camp-fire at the base of a hill. The light is low but your darkvision quickly kicks in and as you approach the fire, you realize no-one is there yet but you hear a fading squeaky noise of a wooden conveyance.


The hawk flew across the blasted landscape, and the man with black skin followed.

This had been the dream the coal-skinned man had seen whenever he had closed his eyes for years. The hawk, the noble creature that had given his existence meaning, had set his path, and he had learned to follow it. The path set for him had always led to some sort of problem that needed his - or, at least, someone's - attention, from the dead crawling from their graves to a band of orcs rampaging across the countryside. Whatever the problem, the man called Kestrel had faced evil countless times, and burned it away with the flames of purity.

So, when the hawk crested north, Kestrel knew to follow. The dreams were different this time - darker, stronger, more powerful. His legs ached from the travel, but he knew he was close to the visions he had seen, and pushed himself to a familiar hill. The sounds of a cart retreating into the night belied the fact that someone had set the fire for him, but that was of less concern at the moment. He sat down on a nearby rock and unlimbered his waterskin, pulling a long swig at it to quench his thirst.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

Balasiel slowed his mount down as they neared the camp site. Once a few feet away he stops the horse completely before getting off. Holding onto the reins he moves forward seeing someone else at the site he says "Greeting, what brings you here?"

The man that just spoke to you is wearing odd looking full plate with a design of a sword on the chest piece, over his shoulders is a light colored cloak with the same marking as his chest piece.


At the sound of an approaching steed, Kestrel drew up the hood of his cloak. He kept his sunstaff within arm's reach, but not so close as to brandish it. "This seemed as goodly a place to rest my weary legs as any, sirrah. You are welcome to share the fire, should you choose." Kestrel regarded the man's livery for a moment. "Beg your forgiveness, lord, but I do not recognize your coat of arms. Whose banner do you fly?"


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"I belong to a group known as the Knights of Order. As to share the fire thank you. Who may you be?" Balasiel says as he moves closer to the fire.


"I am known as Kestrel, lord, one of much less consequence as your noble self." He reached his gloved hands out to warm them from the flames, as well as to watch their sultry dance.


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Leaving Bard's Gate behind, Falko makes his way slowly, walking the first mile of the Desolation. As he turns one last time to have a look at the last outpost of civilization, his stomach makes an angry sound, reminding him how much he loathes trail rations. Bah! It's not all that great! That beef stew I got at the dwarf didn't leave me with the impression that the dwarf had ever seen a cow in his life... I bet he didn't like the look of me...

After a few miles, he starts to curse himself for not having bought a horse. That will learn ya! The road is hardened, tougher than I would have expected.

As the day stretches and the shadows shorten, he spies furtive movement out the corner of his eye. He tracks the movement without breaking his stride, trying not to show he's spotted whatever is lurking out there. Just a stupid rat! Nothing much to eat I'd bet in this forsaken place. I'm probably the best thing on the menu. Best stay alert...

He stops for a quick meal, reaching into the parallel dimensions hidden in the folds of his bag, to grab some hard cheese and hard bread Too much corn... From a side pocket in the gray vest he wears over his light chain, he finds his favourite pipe and his daily stash of tobacco. He puffs slowly as he watches the horizon, letting the smoke numb his mind slightly as he ponders on the journey behind and the one ahead What a fool you are Falko, following a dream of destruction to the very end of the world!

After a meal and a mouthful of water, he sets forth, fighting the urge to summon the power found in the wind and the sand to hasten his steps. As darkness falls and fear of being eaten grows in him, he spots in the distance the reassuring light of a fire. How about that! Like in my dream. As he nears the fire, he makes the presence of at least two others. Not wanting to end up at the pointy end of an arrow, he calls loudly: "Hey there! Can I share your fire? My feet are weary and three blades are better than two when it comes to fend off humgry predators!"

As he gets closer What? More tieflings! How odd...: "My name is Falko. I'm headed north." He puts down his bag, then unfastens the sword tied to his back, letting it rest on the bag, then shakes the dust off his hair, fingers moving expertly around the tiny horns that crown his forehead.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"Greetings, I am known as Balasiel. You may share the fire, I just arrived here myself." He says as he turns to look at the new comer.

Same thing as my first post, only thing is none of the characters can tell he is a Tiefling. He still has his armor right now.


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

Axis walks leisurely along the road, not feeling the cold of the night or that of the wind. His familar flies about, playing a journey song on the fiddle, delighted wiht the travelling. When they catch a glimpse of a fire, Axis gestures for silence.
“Do you see anything?” the wizard asks Cernan.
The azata perches on his shoulder and shakes his head “Not an evil aura in sight, although there's quite a bit of magic there.”
Axis strides into the light of the fire, seeing three other men... no, two are tieflings, sitting around the fire. Axis observes that one of them has a sunstaff of Arden nearby, and another wears the armor of a Knight of Order.
“Greetings fellow travelers. Given the number of tieflings in our midst and as Cernan” he gestures to his familiar “has sensed no evilness in you, I assume you are the ones that met with me here in my dreams. My name is Axis Vannya, master conjurer, alchemist and sage.”
_______________________________________________

Skill checks:

Knowledge (religion) to know about the staff 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (5) + 16 = 21
Knowledge (religion) for the armor 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (3) + 16 = 19


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Ok Balasiel, it still was only in my thoughts yet. No harm done.

Falko turns to the heavily clad warrior, appraising for just a moment the actual threat it would present if things around the fire got sore, then dismisses those bad thoughts away just as fast: "My thanks for your generosity Balasiel! My feet could use the warmth. The Desolation turned out to be a rougher hike than I had foreseen."

He takes his place around the fire, curious about the other tiefling and the warrior under the big helmet: "If you want, we could share our rations. I'm afraid I have not little for the finest of palate, for the daft dwarf who would deemed deers wore scales did a poor job of matching spices, grains and cheese. Still he boasted he was the best Bard's Gate could offer..." He takes a bite from some grey coloured jerky: "Hngh! I tell you, if it's the case, the town is doomed!" He smiles though as he makes those comments, visibly looking to alleviate the tensions between strangers.

As a fourth member appears out of the darkness, his hand moves but an inch towards his sword. This is no Desolation, it's but a busy pub!" "Pleased to meet you Axis and Cernan. I have met my share of conjurers on the road, and I sure hope you're the real kind!" At the mention of the dream, he gets silent and prefers to wait before answering, despite the heavy silence that follows. His eyes dart towards Balasiel, wondering if he too shares their fiery heritage.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"Greetings Axis and Cernan, I am Balasiel Valo. As for being a conjurer I have meet my fair share as well." He says before turning back to look at the fire.

No it was more for a note I forgot to say he was still in full armor. Remembered I did not when I read your post.


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

His calm expression turns momentarily into a frown. He reaches for his familiar "If I may" he says, before vanishing in the blink of an eye and reappearing next to the fire. He sits down, with the lirakyen on his lap "As you see, yes, I'm the real kind. My family has always practiced wizardry and I apprenticed under an elven archamage."


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Impressed by the show of power, Falko talks again, wishing to know more: "You mentioned a dream...


Axis Vannya wrote:

Skill checks:

Knowledge (religion) to know about the staff 1d20+16
Knowledge (religion) for the armor 1d20+16

From what you know, the staff is not the symbol of any known god despite looking strongly like one.

The armor bearer, however must be a follower of Muir as the sword is clearly her symbol, but he is not a Paladin as the symbol is not the right colour and is not disposed properly.


Female Tiefling Rogue (Survivalist) / 7

Dot


Female Tiefling Rogue (Survivalist) / 7

Winjett had been watching the fire for a while. It was strange that a fire burnt unattended. Best to stay in the shadows, and see what returned to camp...then the first arrived. At first she imagined that it was his camp, but from the way he looked around when he arrived, she could see that he was a stranger to the camp. Then the one in the odd armor joined him. Strange she felt her blood call out to them. Were they of the tainted blood as was she. At that thought she shrank further into the concealing shadow.

She had almost dozed off when she saw the others arrive. A strange group in deed. She had better stay here hidden until she knew more. Though her instincts called for her to step forward into the companionship of her kind, and the warmth of the fire. Her experience and her many scars forbid her approach.

1d20 + 19 ⇒ (1) + 19 = 20 Stealth to stay hidden and observe.


Kestrel also had his hood up, to hide his demonic features. But, as there are a few of you outing yourselves, and you did mention a dream...

With the arrival of more people, Kestrel began to think about leaving. Too much of a chance of discovery of his true nature, and that would inevitably cause problems. But the hawk had never steered him wrong, and as two of the others were Helltouched, perhaps this was a sign. "You too have had the dreams? Did the hawk lead you here as well?" He decided that openness might be the best policy, for once, and pulled his hood back, revealing his coal-black skin and red-tinged eyes.

"I am known as Kestrel Thrice-damned. If the dreams have led us all to this place, then the gods must have a plan for our feet, even if we do not know the path."


Perception check, every one, please.


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

Axis perception 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Cernan perception 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17

"A falcon!? All I saw was a rat. And he wasn't coming this way..."


Female Tiefling Rogue (Survivalist) / 7

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25 Perception

As Winnjet pushes herself further back in the shadows, she kicks a small rock, which makes a rattling noise against other debris. Though a small sound, it sounds like thunder to her sensitive ears. Dang I must be tired. I'm making mistakes.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

Perception:1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Balasiel listens, as the others travelers speak he than says "I have come because of a dream as well." After seeing Kestrel, pulling back his hood to reveal his face, Balasiel stares for a bit before looking at all the others.


Cernan:
You hear a small noire coming from the hill side as if a rock had been dislodged. Nearly at the same time, another noise comes from the road you just took. It sounds like horse shoes hitting the packed earth.

Winnjet:
As you kick the rock loose, another noise comes from the road you just took. It sounds like horse shoes hitting the packed earth.


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

Axis thinks about the significance of the dreams. "It seems the dreams have brought us together... In my dreams there was no hawk guiding me, it was more a sense of urgency. There was a dark city in the distance and it felt dangerous"

Cernan tilts his head, as if alerted of something "Axis, there's a horse aproaching" He says, and then more quietly "And something on the hill has moved some rocks."

Cernan will be checking the horseman for evil and magic


Mechanics:

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 7

"Ah, I see," Kestrel says as the others give no mention of a hawk in their dreams. "I had thought you had perhaps been guided by the same hawk that has guided me. Still, something has ordered all of our steps to this place."


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

When Falko hears Cernan's warning, he moves his hand closer to the hilt of his sword, but otherwise stays motionless: "Expecting someone?"


Female Tiefling Rogue (Survivalist) / 7

Freezing in place, Winjett watches carefully from her hiding spot to see what approaches.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

Balasiel raises an eyebrow under his helm, as he hears Cernan speak and sees Falko move toward his sword.


As you all wait, the sounds of hooves get clearer and clearer and two shapes appear first through your dark vision then illuminated by your fire.
The first one is that of a small portly man, clad in a frayed and dusty white and yellow robe, walking by an even dustier white mule.
Without pause, he moves towards the fire, nodding to each of you as if he had already met you.

"Muir's blessing to all", he says in a cheery voice, taking a small tablet in a pouch slung at his belt. "Let me see... The silvery eyed and haired one... the mage with black eyes and white hair, the grey skinned knight, the fire breather..." with each description, he crosses something on his tablet.

"Most of you are already there. But two are missing from what I saw. Have you seen a fanged man with a black two hander sword or a lithe woman with a crossbow?"

Looking at the four sitting around the fire, he suddenly stops what he was about to say and turns red with embarrassment. "I apologize for my behavior. I'm brother Silias of the church of Muir and I was sent to meet you today... Well, that's what I suppose."

No magic aura and no evil in him or the mule for those who check.


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Which one does he think I am, I wonder?

Falko tries to stay cool and manages to keep his sword sheathed. With a somewhat threatening voice, he asks: "Who sent you? A falcon or a rat?"


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

Axis stands up and cleans the dirt of his clothes with a cantrip. He raises an eyebrow.

"It's the doing of the church of Muir, then, our meeting here?" the mage asks.

Cernan examines the aura of the priest.

"Axis, he doesn't sense as evil, nor does he have any magic on him."


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"Greetings brother Silias, so you were sent by the church to meet us? I do hope we are the right people, would not want you to have came all the this way for no reason. As for the fanged man and woman with a crossbow, I have not seen either of these two."


Falko Escheus wrote:

Which one does he think I am, I wonder?

Falko tries to stay cool and manages to keep his sword sheathed. With a somewhat threatening voice, he asks: "Who sent you? A falcon or a rat?"

The man chuckles at your question "The falcon, obviously, I really am a member of the church of Muir."

Then he shakes his head and smile as if he had an amusing vision, "But no, the church did not send me at all. I've told them for months about the documents I found and the visions I had but none would believe me. Then I prayed the goddess and she answered by showing me visions of each of you coming here. I took note of all my visions and that's how I know there should be two others."


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

That man's crazy...

Intrigued, Falko tries to smile at the priest, but his smile only shows sad compassion for the less gifted: "So you had a few visions brother? That's just great! And you saw six people, and of course, there's four of us. So all is well!!!"

He turns back to the fire.


Female Tiefling Rogue (Survivalist) / 7

Seeing that violence doesn't seem to be the flavor of the evening, and needing the warmth of the fire, Winjett steps forward out of the shadows, appearing as a wraith suddenly among them. I believe I might be that Lithe woman with a crossbow". "I am called Winnjet".

1d20 + 19 ⇒ (7) + 19 = 26 Stealth


Winnjet wrote:

Seeing that violence doesn't seem to be the flavor of the evening, and needing the warmth of the fire, Winjett steps forward out of the shadows, appearing as a wraith suddenly among them. I believe I might be that Lithe woman with a crossbow". "I am called Winnjet".

1d20+19 Stealth

"Ha,", says brother Silias, bowing to the newcomer and glaring at Falko, "Maybe you'll believe me now! How ofthen do you think six of your kind arrive at the same place, not knowing each other before. Ha!"

Turning back towards his mule, he searches the saddlebag and returns with a pair of scrolls.


Male Pitborn Tiefling Paladin/7

dot


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Six? Where does he see six of us?

Falko smiles at the man, looking left and right to his new companions, wondering if he's the only one that just sees five...

Am I the one whose mind is gone? I did follow some dream to the Desolation, no?


Male Pitborn Tiefling Paladin/7

Suddenly, a voice soft as velvet speaks from the shadows beyond the reach of the fire. "Five. There are five of us, not four." A tall man steps into the light. He wears articulated full plate armor, and large sword is strapped to his back. His hair is long, dark and soft and his face is almost woman-like in its beauty. He approaches the fire and gracefully sits. "My name is Damian, viscount Morav. I have been guided here by the grace of Muir and by the dreams I had. May I have the honor of your names?"


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

The mage keeps his expression neutral at the sudden arrival of two other tieflings "It seems you were right, Brother Silas, there are indeed six of us." Axis turns toward the new arrivals "Winjett, Lord Morav, I am Axis Vannya, wizard, sage and alchemist, and this is my familiar, Cernan."

He looks curiously to the scrolls the brother has taken from his mule's saddlebags, and waits.


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"I am Balasiel Valo, a Knight of Order." He says as the last person in the group brother Silias spoke of appeared.


"And, as I have introduced myself earlier, am known as Kestrel Thrice-damned. Once from birth, once by society, and once by the hawk that grants me my abilities. What need has the church of Muir for six hellborn, Brother?" Kestrel grips his staff tighter, just in case he does not like the answer the Muiran has to offer.


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Well I'll be even more damned. Six of us... Let's give this fool a chance then."

"Call me Falko."


"Don't worry about these scrolls, » says the brother, unrolling the first one. "I used them to take notes of what I had to tell you tonight."

"I've always been interested in history and in that of the Desolation north of here. I spent years researching all the sources in both the churches of Thyr and Muir. To pierce what has happened to the city of Tsar and the armies of Light. Last year, I came upon a copy of the journal of a lay brother of Thyr that did not take part in the campaign as he was too old but was charged to archive all the messages of the war. His journal was full of ramblings but one or two pages contained genuine information about Lord Bisho and his paladins.

I recon you may not know of his, so let me tell you what I know.

Tsar, the great temple-city to the Demon Prince of the Undead, stood for centuries as a bastion of evil and hate. At its heart stood the great Citadel of Orcus, the black heart of Orcus worship on earth. Countless evils were perpetuated in those corrupt precincts, and equally countless wicked plots were hatched and carried out therein.
Graeltor, the last overking ordered a crusade to get rid of the boil within the good kingdoms. This army, raised from all nations, became known as the Army of Light and marched for Tsar.
The war raged for over a year, the Army of Light advancing to the very foot of the walls and then being pushed back by a new surge of demonic power. The disciples of Orcus led by the Grand Cornu, Orcus’s single highest-ranking priest on the mortal planes, threw every vile attack they could at the Army of Light in defence of their city. Rains of horrific fire and acid fell from the skies or belched from fissures in the ground, great constructs crushed their foes before them, terrible clouds of poisonous gas choked entire regiments, and heretofore unknown plagues swept through the troops causing thousands of horrible deaths among the Army of Light. Nevertheless the forces of good persevered and fought on.
Finally, though the battle seemed no closer to victory, the fates seemed to smile on the Army of Light. Unexpectedly the city fell. In a single night the entire city virtually emptied of defenders as they all were magically transported to a point several miles outside the city’s walls, complete with baggage train and mounts for many. The legions of the demon prince had broken free from the Army of Light’s cordon. They immediately took flight before the stunned Army of Light, heading south.
A cursory sweep of the city by scouts proved that the withdrawal was no ruse, so the commander of the army left one of his most powerful knights, the paladin Lord Bishop, with a company of knights to secure the citadel and hold it until the Army of Light could return and properly destroy it. Then, the Army of Light set off in pursuit of the fleeing legions.
The tale of that long pursuit is an epic in and of itself. Finally the Army of Light cornered the forces of darkness in a forest near a rugged coastline. In anticipation of a great victory, the forest was prematurely named the Forest of Hope. The naming proved to be a cruel irony, for in the forest the followers of Orcus had been preparing a great trap for years in case just such an occasion ever arose. Both armies disappeared into the forest. Neither ever emerged. The Army of Light was lost to a man.

What remained of the temple-city of Tsar was a vast, abandoned ruin surrounded by miles and miles of poisoned and scared wasteland left behind by the battling armies. It was all forgotten as a bad memory of despair with no value save as an eyesore and wilderness home for strange and fearsome beasts.

We always thought that the knights of Lord Bishu had all perished in the Forest of Hope but the journal I spoke of recalled of the message ordering Lord Bidsho and his troops into Tsar itself. As none ever emerged, I thought they had perished in Tsar itself and resigned myself to writing down this so that Lord Bishu tomb was not lost into the fog of memory. However, last month, a caravan came down from the Desolation as some do to bring back spices and exotic items from the northern kingdoms. One of the guards pretended to have seen a knight wandering in the Desolation and from his description of the coat of arms, I believe this knight may have been part of Lord Bishu forces. If so that means some of the knights may have survived against all odds.

So I prayed and the Goddess sent me visions of your group and of a city I thought may be Tsar. I'm sure she wishes you to investigate the Desolation and the city and protect us from this blight.”

Almost out of breath, brother Silas ends his monologue with and pleading look, anxiously waiting for your reactions.


"So, remnants of the Army of Light might still exist? It seems so unlikely, after all these years. Can you describe the coat of arms, Brother? If we see this knight in our explorations, we will want to be able to recognize him."


Male HP: 39/81 5 Cavalier(Standard Bearer)/2 Knights of Order(Hell Knight)

"Very well, if such good men are still about, we should help them." Balasiel says after hearing Brother Silas speak.


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

As Brother Silas starts his speech, Falko is first completely taken off by his first revelation.

You mean... We're not even in the Desolation yet?!? What do you call this?!?

But he remains quiet, as everyone is listening intently and the priest seems to have way more to say.

The brother's words strike an emotional chord as they are uttered in the darkness lit by civilization's fire. His words like a beacon of hope pushing back the shadows, leading to a revelation.

"But, but- Brother Silas, that knight... How old would he be?"


Male Grimspawn Conjurer (teleportation) Wizard 7

"Tsar must be the city of my dreams... If Lord Bishu or his men are still alive and the gods deem us their saviors, I too think we should heed their call."


Kestrel Thrice-damned wrote:
"So, remnants of the Army of Light might still exist? It seems so unlikely, after all these years. Can you describe the coat of arms, Brother? If we see this knight in our explorations, we will want to be able to recognize him."

"These are all good questions", replies brother Silias with passion, "I agree this is strange but from what the guard said, the coat was an upturned sword of gules which is the classical sword of Muir but it was also bendy of sable or argent."

Knowledge history DC 20 or religion DC 25:
The red sword of Muir as a coat of arms is usually represented on a white background. The silver and black background brother Silias is talking about comes from and ancient order of Justiciar of Muir, now extinct.

"And for his age, more than three centuries at least. This may sound strange, but some of the high ranking Knights of the armies of Light were rumoured not to be fully humans. Half-celestial would be my guess, so nothing is really certain about their life expectancy."


HP 18/20; AC 18/13/15; Saves 1/6/2; Init +2; Perc +9; Luck 1/10 used

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

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