The sun hangs high over Kenabres on this sixteenth of Arodus, its brilliant light painting the whole of the border city in dazzling golden sheen. Armasse is here, and the air is thick with excitement and spectacle. Scholars and priests meet beneath tents openly discuss the lessons of history from wars past, so that all may know the vital work of the Crusades. Crowds gather to hear the debates and lectures or watch reenactments of famous battles. The largest crowd is for the battle of Drezen. Illusions color the air at the center of a throng of onlookers, creating a vision of that fateful battle when that fortress fell under a massive blitz from the Worlldwound. The crowd cheers as an actor dressed as Saint Argil, the Pauper Sorcerer, stands upon a fallen piece of rubble calling for the fleeing citizens to leave behind their belongings and trust in the gods for safety. Like that fateful day so many years ago, a golden light surrounds him as he turns his back to the crowd to face the coming storm of demons…. The crowd cheers as the light grows to near-blinding brightness and the illusion dissipates in a flash of light and shower of gold.
In other places throughout the city, and even in the crusader camps beyond the walls, tourney pitches have been erected. Mounted knights on a powerful steeds charge at each other with blunted lance. The roar and thunder of their hooves battles with the crack of wood splintering on shield and the clang of armor on stone as an unseated warrior flies through the air and lands on the stones of the streets to fill the air with a riotous din. Mock battles and duels, fought with dulled blades and hollowed hammers, add to row. The throngs here are less somber and collected than those watching the reenactments. Here, spectators cheer their favorites, boo rivals, and place wagers on the outcome. Even the Hellknights take part in the sport, full members in black plate etched in grim images astride fearsome black stallions, charge down the lists to the boos and heckles of many in the crowd only to unseat their more resplendent and … naive … challengers. Such is the might and surety of Hell’s discipline.
Music and revelry are everywhere. Jugglers, fools, and mummers entertain children and adults at every corner. Food stalls and relic hawkers line the streets, calling their wares into the air. Guards patrol the throngs of revelers, keeping the peace and maintaining order. Truly, this is a day of merriment and splendor. For one, brief day, the war-torn border city celebrates life and heroics, forgetting horrors that wait beyond the stone walls in the Worldwound. Even the armigers from Fort Naberius have been given leave to partake in the revelry.
For others, however, the day is a solemn and holy affair. They stand in the plaza before the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell and take up holy orders to Iomedae and the other Crusader god, or pledge themselves to the Crusades. At noon, the most sacred of all traditions shall commence and Eterrius Sunnestier, famed demon hunter and priest of the cathedral, stall stand upon the steps leading up to the proud golden doors of the St Clydewell’s cathedral and intone the Benediction of Valor.
Black fur, deep flame orange hair, even her tail. Almost like she was on fire. Hellstrider. Yes, here she was. As one of the orders that visited her settlement so long ago. One of them. Still sounded so unfamiliar to her. But she was proud to be one of them. Respected. Yes. She will be. Each small step into their ranks was a step in the right direction. Her armor was polished. Her lance, ready.
Hellstrider was watching the jousters. Her emerald green eyes focused on their techniques. She herself would like to partake in these festivities. Where she came from, well, there was no time for fun like this. She had to make due with dolls and other objects to practise her lance wielding abilities. She wondered if a taur like herself would be allowed to participate. Since, well, she could not be unseated
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Before you stands a towering half-orc clad in a scaled iron armor. The armor’s spaulders are linked to the chestplate with large lock and chain-like designs, and the gauntlets have been fashioned to look like large manacles, a very reminiscent feature of the armors the Order of the Chain frequently wear. Ezechias’s face is burly and scarred, displaying the many hardships he has been through in life. Some of these scars, you wonder, may never heal. Yet despite its impressive and hulking figure, the half-orc has an eerie look about him. His blue eyes seem constantly lost in a haze, disconnected from the reality that surrounds him. His skin has a dark green hue, somehow forbidding anyone to ignore the armiger’s origins. His long fingers rest on the hilt of a beautiful enameled scimitar made of a strange metal, wrought with the holy symbol of Sarenrae. Upon closer inspection, the same symbol is repeated several times on his armor, shield, and even a large tattoo somehow half-visible on his forearm.
The half-orc wanders among the crowd, saluting other Hellknights or Armigers he encoutners. He appears to be lost in his thoughts, oblivious of those around him. Yet something catches his attention, a group of crusaders bearing the holy symbol of the Dawnflower. He observes them from a distance, occasionally crossing their gaze. In these moments, he cannot help but think that he is not truly one of them, nor is he a true iron-willed, dedicated armiger in blind service to the cause.
A bit of both worlds. Isn't that what my life has always been about?
Snapping out of his reverie he tries his very best to enjoy the festival, even though he isn't one for revelries and games. He contemplates the example of Saint Argil, pondering the moral lessons he teaches for a moment. He tries to discuss it with someone near him, but the man doesn't seem highly interested in the philosophical nature of the Saint's message, and leaves as he politely bows his head. Ezechias nods in turn, understanding that his appearance - as well as his armor - might rebuke some of the most devout men. Letting out a small sigh, he allows his feet to guide him through the crowd, wandering aimlessly. It is then that he sees a few armigers he has met before in Fort Naberius. That company seems quite eclectic, to say the least, and even features a cat-centaur with fiery hair.
They won't judge me by my appearance. Only our creed matters among the Hellknight. Joining them was my best choice by far.
The half-orc walks up to them and bows formally, introducing himself. "Hail, fellow armigers. I don't think we had a chance to speak before. I am Ezechias, Armiger of the Chain and newly-arrived to Fort Naberius. Have you been stationed here for long yourselves?"
Hellstrider turns to look at the person speaking to her. At first she wants to disregard him and continue to watch the match, but she catches herself and tries to focus
"Greetings Ezechias. My name is Hellstrider, Daughter of...." she stops herself, no, that life is past, she has no family there. Besides, they wouldnt want her back anyway
"Never mind, old habit. I am from the Nail, Order of the Ennead Star." she bows her head slightly in acknowledgement of sharing the same... rank
Giosue contained his disgust, keeping it imprisoned with recitations of the infernal hierarchy. The Chaos that polluted all things had spread deep into Kenabres, and no deeper than in all this frivolity. If these so-called crusaders had given themselves to Hell, they would be of one form: united, disciplined, filled utterly with its Infinite Will. No demon would stand against them. Yet he saw barely a few who had even given over to the point that their eyes and minds grew empty as they learned to be vessels rather than thinking beings. Many would never leave that state, lost in the perfect release of obedience. In a way, Giosue admired them for it. But there was a path of higher discipline, to ascend by descending until the Will of Hell became a new self. His path.
Still, it was advisable to keep up the forms. Outside the chapterhouse and inquisitor's chamber, it was often necessary to appeal by other means. All sentience knew that it was rightly Hell's thrall, called forever downward. The example of a pure philosophy pulled at them with a yearning arising from suppressed knowledge of their master. All ached to fall on their knees, bend their necks, and serve. They could call it corruption if they wished, but to Obey was in the nature of all mortal things. By giving an appealing example, Giosue could stoke those fires within.
So he restrained himself as children darted past, smiling amiably and making himself into the very image of a kindly, genial young man in robes. He must; for the truth of Hell demanded it and impressed Obedience in his form and thought as his attainted parentage had engraved on him this immortal pallor.
At some length, he came to a gathering of hellknights. He greeted them with a smile and warm enthusiasm, "Good day to you all." He made a small bow. "I have not had the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance, brothers and sisters. I am hight Giosue Rhigetti, late of Egorian, right and truly bound in the Order of the Gate."
"I am called Hellstrider. I am from the Order of the Nail, also part of the Order of the Ennead Star." she chuckles
"Odd to see so many different orders here. Not unwelcome though. Just seems strange."
D'Hara finished up washing the blood off of her hands and dried them on her robes. That was the problem with washing off blood. You almost never got all of it. A few specks of blood seeped into the fabric and began to stain the cloth. It wouldn't be noticeable since her robes where the same color as the blood though. Some might think the color odd, but it served a purpose. It was hard to extract information without getting your hands dirty.
She turned and looked back at the unconscious man. He wouldn't be going anywhere for quite a while. Not that it mattered. She had gotten what she needed. Besides, the bindings were strong enough. She slipped her hooded cloak on pulled her scarf up. She liked to witness first hand the reactions that her appearance inspired but she knew that now was not an appropriate time to disturb the masses. Today they would all be distracted by Armasse and that would allow her the freedom to observe them among their ranks.
She closed the door to her small room as she left. She walked passed all the others barely making eye contact. She nodded occasionally before leaving the church and heading out to join the celebration. She walked through the throngs of people, listening and taking mental notes, committing faces to memory.
After a while, she came upon the gathering of Hell Knights. She approached each one in turn and bowed formally, introducing herself. "I am Armiger D'Hara, of the Order of the Rack." She wears leather boots, leather breeches, thick belt, wool shirt, and a leather vest under her simple robes. A sturdy, hooded cloak rests on her shoulder. Except for one side of the dark grey cloak, the rest of her clothes are blood red.
To D'Hara
"Hellstrider. A pleasure to meet you. I am of the Nail. Order of the Ennead Star." she gives a slight bow as she reaches to kiss her hand
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Seated atop his black-maned warhorse, Igneous, Iavdi stares across the crowd, his eyes observing the festivities.
"Do they truly believe that this situation calls for celebration? Do they truly think that there is no threat that can reach them here?" he asks out loud to no one in particular, although it could be aimed at his fellow Hellknights.
His glaive lay in its sheath on his saddle, blade pointed upward, and his armor covered in sharp blades shooting out at almost every angle created quite an imposing figure. With his horned helm under one of his arms, Iavdi's cold stare kept most of the civilians far away, and even the crusaders had a difficult time walking next to the android. His gaze...it was unsettling. There was no humanity there, no emotions.
"These naive fools have no idea what our opponent is capable of; we should not be letting our guard down like this."
Suddenly looking down towards his non-mounted brethren, he addresses them directly for the first time.
"Apologies, I haven't introduced myself. I am Iavdi, loyal Flame of the Pyre."
She pads around him. Inspecting his horse. Then him. She reaches up to greet him
"Hellstrider. Of the Nail. Of the Order of the Ennead Star." she chuckles a bit. How many more times will she have to introduce herself today. Well. It cant be helped. With so many people around.
"Always a pleasure to meet another mounted soldier. Well. When I say another..." she looks her own tauric body over
"I guess you know what i mean"
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Ezechias nods to all those who introduced themselves. "I'm honored. Such a diversity in the Orders we represent is commendable, since the quest at hand here disctates that we will need various approaches to restore Law and Order to this scarred land. It'll need a redeeming hand to heal, too. I for one believe that all those who find Law in their lives will find the strength to change their heathen ways. I am here to put back these lost souls on a straight path again," the half-orc explains, a spark of passion in his eyes. Obviously he takes his role very much to heart. "Woe to those who refuse to consider that path, for they will meet a swift and righteous justice."
"I agree whole heartedly. Those who continue with their unlawful, chaotic ways. Even those who do not choose a side. They will meet a swift retribution" she nods. Her green eyes focused on him as a silent confirmation of goals.
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A man walks up to the group hailing them with raised hand, his armor is styled in the Godclaw make, claws on vambraces, and helm. What might be considered different is that they man has white plumed wings coming out of his armor. Taking off his helm he hold it under one arm, "Hail and Welcome Hellknights, it is good to see more here in this land. Chaos takes hold further north of here as I have never seen it take hold before. Looking at the clearly drunken crusaders around he sneers, "Where I the commander of those men, it would not go pleasant for them this eve. Such displays around the general public should be frowned upon.
Raising right hand in a closed fist he salutes fist over chest, "By the Gods that I worship I stand ready, Hellknight and Signifer Darsanga Darstos, it pleases me to no end to see Law imbodied by so many.[b] With what could be taken as done with formal introduction he eases his posture a tad, [b]"What brings so many of us here I wonder, are we to start another Crusade against Chaos?"
The first glimpse the other Hellknights have of Kevroth is one of flashes of reflected light as the sun glints of the strands of his hair as if striking highly polished mithril. As he approaches, the fractured and imperfect marble of his skin and the Hellish, glowing red of his faceted eyes clear a path through the gathered crowd.
Though he does not wear the red robes of his order, Kevroth's black armored coat does bear the red trappings and symbols of the Order of the Gate, and a red-lacquered, silver, five pointed star hangs about his neck.
A long duelling blade rests upon one hip, a kukri sits on each side of his waist, and a shield lays across his back. His razor sharp talons glint with the same sheen as his hair as he comes to a stop before the others and bows to them with one hand pressed to his chest, and his voice sounds like a choir of angels speaking in unison as he greets them, "Gr̢ee̛t̛i̡ńgs,҉ ͝fell̛o͠w̷ Kn̨i̵ģh̸t͜s o̸f Hel̨l. ̵I ̸a̶m Ke͘vr̷o̶th̕, A̵rmi҉g͘er ͡of́ t̴he̸ ͠O̶rd͠er̷ ͜of t͠h͟e͢ Gąte̶.̕ ́Sḩa͝l̶ĺ ̡we sh͞ow͠ t̶h́e̢se̢ ̷so͞-̵c̷a̴lled C͘ru̵sa̡de͢rs ҉h̢o͘w̷ one ̀wages̀ ̕a͡ ҉ẁar̢ ̢ag̨ai̕nst̵ Ch̡ao̧s?́"
"Such a splended display. Your race does you justice" she greets both the newcomers with a bow
"I am called Hellstrider. I am from the Nail. Part if the Order of the Ennead Star. Welcome to this informal gathering. Did not know it was such a highly watched sport. Not a lot of people like to watch jousting." she chuckles again
"But as you say. It is good to see so many together fighting for order. Together we will drive back and prevail over the forces of Chaos"
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"The Ennead Star is a Cavalier Order in the Hellknights" she says with a grin
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Kevroth bows slightly to Hellstrider before turning to watch the joust for a few moments. He turns back to Hellstrider, "A͞n̨d͜ d͝o yo͞u ͏j͘ǫùs͝t͡, ̴H̕el͡lstr̷i̛de͟r? Or͠ ͢do͠ yo̶u ̡j́u̸s͜t ̛en͠jǫy ̶wa͢t͟c̨h̸i҉n̸g͜?͡"
"Hah. Yes I do. Both. Watching and participating. For ones like myself. It is a rather exhilarating sport. The exercise does wonders to the body. Well. Some of the blows you recieve does put us under a lot of strain. But in the end it makes us stronger and more prepared"
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"Hah. Yes I do. Both. Watching and participating. For ones like myself. It is a rather exhilarating sport. The exercise does wonders to the body. Well. Some of the blows you recieve does put us under a lot of strain. But in the end it makes us stronger and more prepared"
"It has long been my unyielding position that through ordeal we are shaped to the purpose for which the Hells have chained us," Giosue said, approvingly.
"And I agree. Our pasts shape who we are today, but it is today that we shape our future" she nods
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"It has long been my unyielding position that through ordeal we are shaped to the purpose for which the Hells have chained us," Giosue said, approvingly.
Kevroth smiles thinly at this, "I̛t̡ ̨may̷ ̷b̧e ̛th͞a̸ţ yo͞u͜ ̴are c̷òrre̡ct.͠ ̨ ̕I ̷n̶e̢v͠e̕r wou̸ld͞ h̛av͢e͢ ̴co̕me͏ ̛to ķn͘o͢w ͢t̨he p̧u͡r͠p̢ose̢ ̶t̴h̶a̕t I̢ nǫw ͝se͏rv̢e͟ w̷i͡t̴h̀ơu͞t ҉Òrḑe̡a͡l̕.̸ ͝ T̷h̨oug͘h̵ ͠I̵ ͜wis̡h̛ ͘to̕ thi͡s ͏day I ҉ha̕d̢ no͠t̨ su̸f͘fer̶eḑ ̨t͏hr͞ǫu̢gh̵ ͡ẁh̀a͝t͜ I͡ ͟did̸.̕"
"Yet. You are here. Alive. Fighting for Order. Yes. We have all had our share of terrible. Unspeakable pain and horror. But we are survivors. We fight. So noone else has to endure what we did"
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"Perhaps you have all suffered unspeakable horror, but I know nothing of fear."
Iavdi states matter-of-factly, taking a short pause to glance over the crowd once more before continuing.
"That is what I was created for, after all. To not feel fear, less it render me incapable of performing my duties. It is one of the many weaknesses of the mortal form."
"Fear is what keeps us alive" she remarks to the machine
"It keeps us on our toes. As it were" she gives him a smirk
"In a way it is a very pleasant feeling when your hair at the back of your neck stand on end. It gets the adrenalin going."
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"Perhaps some of what you say is true. But fear also created cowards, and distractions. I have seen too many a man flee from even myself, only to get cut down from behind." he responds to the horse.
"For it is not fear that will drive this crusade to its finish, but instead dedication. To the cause, and to ones self."
D'Hara stood quietly, listening as the others debated their opinions. She paid no mind to the jousting either. She could appreciate the sentiment of practing their horseback style, but this seemed more for perceived honor than combat training.
Her focus instead was centered on the average people. She knew how to spot those who were up to no good or looking to break the rules, so that was where her eyes were going. She watched peasants buying food. She watched children playing games. She watched nobles walk the same streets as commoners. She watched all this with her scarf wrapped around her face and her hood pulled up. Suddenly, something caught her eye.
Everywhere, revelry and disorder affront the Hellknights' eyes. A half-orc paladin, shirking all duty and discipline, clasps her lover about the waist, and draws the plain-dressed woman into fierce kiss. A wizard, steeped in the arts of learning and foresight, does not bend his will to peering through the fogs of war that surround this city. Rather he sits on a stool, and amuses a group of children by making puppets and motes of light dance in the air! All the while, three barely-clad urchins dart through the throng, cutting purses and lifting jewels left and right! And worst yet, a corpulent merchant argues quietly with a man dressed in hood and clothes of dull hues--clearly the clothes of one who wishes to be unseen. The two argue furiously for a moment before the hooded man barks a command and the merchant, fuming, storms off. All of this goes unseen by the guards, so intent are they on the spectacle before them!
A hush falls over the crowd as two new challengers come to the lists. One, is the paladin in gleaming silvered armor, the holy symbol of Iomedae embossed to brilliance on her shield and breastplate. The other, in spiked and flayed black armor, like a warrior straight from Hell itself mounts his snorting stalion. The two face off and then salute each other. Then, at the drop of the scarf, silver and black charge down the line, each bearing down on the other and wishing for death, not just dishonor! A crash, and the paladin goes flying, landing with a thud on the ground. An angry silence fills the crowd, clearly she was their favorite. The knight turns the horse about, salutes the paladin again, and... helps the paladin to her feet! She pulls off her helm, laughing, and spits out a tooth as she clasps the Hellknight about the forearm and offers the knight a round of ale. The crowd roars in approval, cheering the honor and magnanimity of the paladin, despite that "dog of a hellknight cheating, no doubt."
A shadow falls across the courtyard, and all fall silent as they look up, confusion overcoming discipline and training. A black swarm of fills the sky, pulling deep from the west and the Worldwound. The air thrums with the hum and buzz of a thousand wings and the chittering of mandibles forming words from unnatural, blasphemous, languages assails your ears. The world seems to bend as the swarm descends upon the ground. A woman steps forward from where she was handing sweet meats to children, dressed in rags and dried flowers, she turns her gaze towards the west, ignoring, for a moment, the swarm. The fiends turn their baleful gaze upon her and a great detachment breaks off and descends up on her, only to burn to nothingness in a nimbus of light surrounding her. She holds up her hands, her rags dissolving into diaphanous robes of sheerest gossamer. she glows brilliant and white, a model of purest mercy and good, champion of the holy and righteous. Her shadow extends backwards, contorted and twisted upon the steps of Clydewell's cathedral, as to the west, the great Kite, fortress of the Wardstone flashes a sickly, evil, yellow-red, burning brighter than the sun, staining everything in sight with a putrid, unclean pallor. The woman roars, and no sound uttered by man comes from her throat, but the fierce cry of a mighty dragon. She levitates in the air, her form blurring and stretching, and, suddenly, where once floated woman, now flies a a brilliant silver dragon. Terendelev, the Champion of Kenabres!
The Kite flashes once more in sickening display, the demons chitter and buzz! Then, sound stops. The courtyard is silent.
A deafening shockwave wracks the city, shattering buildings, ripping the ground asunder as a gargantuan fiend, equally the size of wise Trendelev forces its way up through the earth beneath the Kite. Lightning and flame crackle across its scaly hide as it turns its horrid gaze to the Silver Light and calls out a challenge in that same unnatural tongue the fiends speak. She roars her own and the two collide in the skies above the city!
Everywhere, people scream and flee the area. Some make it out from the courtyard, most are cut down from behind. Where demonic claw touches, flesh corrupts, fouls, mutates, and even turns against its body, ripping and clawing and tearing at wholesome flesh, revealing twisted mockery of life beneath. The guards do what they can, ushering the people to safety and hacking away at the horde of buzzing demons.
They drive the flying creatures away, but, behind them, three packs of demons rip themselves from the corrupted corpses of fallen citizens and warriors, the whole some flesh oozes off of them like slime, and they harry three helpless citizens. D'hara recognizes them as the merchant, the wizard, and the plain-dressed woman she saw earlier.
Are you to stand by and ignore the call of discipline and order?!
Round 1
For the first time in her life, D'Hara was enamored. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open, though no one could see it beneath the scarf she wore. She had never before seen a dragon this close and Terendelev was an awesome specimen. Now this was something she could appreciate. The shear power on display was almost overwhelming. Her fascination was short lived though as the demon armies erupted into the festival.
He was right. They have come.
At seeing the chaos erupt before them, D'Hara wasted no time in rushing forward to engage the demons. Her whip unfurling as she danced across the cobblestones, she quickly sent it forward to wrap around the legs of the closest demon. Her momentum carried her a little closer than she wanted and caused the lash to grasp only empty air.
"Here, spawn of the abyss. Face me and discover the wrath imposed by hell" she called out.
Round 1
For the first time in her life, D'Hara was enamored. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open, though no one could see it beneath the scarf she wore. She had never before seen a dragon this close and Terendelev was an awesome specimen. Now this was something she could appreciate. The shear power on display was almost overwhelming. Her fascination was short lived though as the demon armies erupted into the festival.
He was right. They have come.
At seeing the chaos erupt before them, D'Hara wasted no time in rushing forward to engage the demons. Her whip unfurling as she danced across the cobblestones, she quickly sent it forward to wrap around the legs of the closest demon. Her momentum carried her a little closer than she wanted and caused the lash to grasp only empty air.
"Here, spawn of the abyss. Face me and discover the wrath imposed by hell" she called out.
[dice=Whip, Trip] 1d20+3
"By the straight mounts of Nessus!" Giosue said, as much in anticipation as surprise. "We are forever chained to this. Let us do as it is in our nature to do!"
Giosue stepped forward and intoned, "Vocabit caelum volans ignis Averni a legione ad me!" A hell-born eagle appeared, above the nearest demon.
Round 1
Kevroth moves up beside Giosue and draws his long dueling blade.
A dragon... a real DRAGON! She was captivated. Majestic. Terrifying. Splendour. All at once. But the awe was only for a moment as the demons descended on the populace. She whirled around. Her lance read. Her shield up.
"Into the frey once more!" she called as she hurled forward at the closest chaos beast
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A dragon... a real DRAGON! She was captivated. Majestic. Terrifying. Splendour. All at once. But the awe was only for a moment as the demons descended on the populace. She whirled around. Her lance read. Her shield up.
"Into the frey once more!" she called as she hurled forward at the closest chaos beast
[dice=Spirited Charge!]1d20+6+2
[dice=Damage]3d8+15
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:-p
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Ezechias snaps out of his reverie, his protective instincts overcoming his fear of what's occuring all around him.
"Hellknights, attack! Measure and Chain!" he barks and he darts forward to try and prevent the demons from taking away innocents. He has to circumvent a crack in the ground, however, and remains slow but steady in his imposing armor. "Let's attack together, two by two! Dasanga, you're with me."
"Chakat, Iavdi - get the demons over there! Charge as one!" he shouts, pointing at the demons too far away for any footman to reach before it's too late.
Round 1 Intiative Order 15
Darsanga pulled his helmet back onto his head, locked shields with what men rallied around the hellknights before advancing. Leaveing behind the group, his wings arched, and his voice boomed outwards, echoed and carried by the wind and howls and screams, and yet it boomed away so that All Hellknights could hear him.
"THIS IS WHERE WE FIGHT, THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE!!!!"
Advance he did, not caring who joined his shield wall, no matter what God the person worshiped, they were allowed to join, movements of his sword directed men around him like an army general. Men were more than willing to listen to the man in Black Armor, more than willing to follow orders now that they were under attack. It merely took something horrible to happen for most people to fall in line, and the Hellknight known as Darsanga used it to his best advantage. Of the Violence, however that left him and the hellknights alone to fight things of monstrous portions.
Marching next to Ezechias he locked shield, and readied to move in step with him so as to keep a line of Warriors of Law.
Kevroth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
D'hara: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Giosue: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Darsanga: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (17) - 2 = 15
Ezechias: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12
Antagonists: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12
Chakat: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Iavdi: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
For the first time in her life, D'Hara is enamored. Her eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open, though no one can see it beneath the scarf she wears. She has never before seen a dragon this close and Terendelev is an awesome specimen. Now this is something she could appreciate. The shear power on display is almost overwhelming. Her fascination is short lived, though, as the demon armies erupt into the festival.
He was right. They have come.
At seeing the chaos erupt before them, D'Hara wastes no time in rushing forward to engage the demons. Her whip unfurling as she dances across the cobblestones, she quickly sends it forward to wrap around the legs of the closest demon. Her momentum carries her a little closer than she wanted and causes the lash to grasp only empty air.
"Here, spawn of the abyss. Face me and discover the wrath imposed by hell" she calls out.
Behind her, Kevroth and Giosue martial their wits together. They refuse to bow to the agents of chaos and ruin opposing them! Kevroth draws steal and readies himself for battle.
"By the straight mounts of Nessus!" Giosue says, as much in anticipation as surprise. "We are forever chained to this. Let us do as it is in our nature to do!"
Giosue steps forward and intones, "Vocabit caelum volans ignis Averni a legione ad me!" In a flash of flame and brimstone-scented smoke, a hell-born eagle appears above the nearest demon, and descends upon it with talon and beak! The fiend's unnatural hide turns away the bird's powerful talons, but it is no match for the infernal bird's beak! The eagle caws and swallows a great gobbet of demonic flesh. But, as soon as the bird rips flesh away, the wound closes again!
Ezechias snaps out of his reverie, his protective instincts overcoming his fear of what's occurring all around him.
"Hellknights, attack! Measure and Chain!" he barks and he darts forward to try and prevent the demons from taking away innocents. He has to circumvent a crack in the ground, however, and remains slow but steady in his imposing armor. "Let's attack together, two by two! Dasanga, you're with me."
Darsanga pulls his helmet back onto his head, locks shields with what men rally around the hellknights before advancing. Leaving behind the group, his wings arch, and his voice booms outwards, echoes and carried by the wind and howls and screams, and yet it booms away so that All Hellknights could hear him.
"THIS IS WHERE WE FIGHT, THIS IS WHERE THEY DIE!!!!" Guards and armigers both cheer at his rallying cry. They charge off to the east and west, taking on hordes of demons and fell monsters from the Abyss.
Advance he does, not caring who joins his shield wall, no matter what God the person worshiped, they are allowed to join, movements of his sword direct men around him like an army general. Men are more than willing to listen to the man in Black Armor, more than willing to follow orders now that they were under attack. It merely took something horrible to happen for most people to fall in line, and the Hellknight known as Darsanga used it to his best advantage. Of the Violence, however that left him and the hellknights alone to fight things of monstrous portions.
Marching next to Ezechias he locks shield, and readies to move in step with him so as to keep a line of Warriors of Law.
Once more, Ezachias' voice rings out over the din of battle as locks step with Darsanga. "Chakat, Iavdi - get the demons over there! Charge as one!" he shouts, pointing at the demons too far away for any footman to reach before it's too late.
The demons, fueled by their need for bloodlust and destruction, turn from their easy prey and shamble towards the hellknights on rubbery ill-formed legs!
hit
hit
hit
that's three hits.. at 1d4+1 damage math says the eagle's dead since 2x3 =6 and it only has 5 hp
miss
miss
miss
4 hp down!
The other dretch moves to get into combat range, and this means D'hara gets AoO off.
miss
three dretches move forward to engage Darsnaga and Ezecias
miss
miss
miss
Dretch 1
miss
hit?! (this was a hit before i hit "preview" a second time)
miss
Dretch 2
miss
miss (this was originally a miss before i hit preview again. jerkface!
miss
so, for some reason paizo likes to re-roll my dice when I hit preview.
One of the misshapen fiends lumbers towards D'hara. It lashes out at her with its putrid claws and warped maw. She feels its sickening slime coat her arm, but its soft teeth cannot pierce the perfect form of her armor. Another demon skirts around her, somehow wary of the danger of her lash. But, it stupidly misjudges the reach of her whip and the leather hide flares out, coiling about the creature's leg. The air eddies ...wrongly... about the brute's legs, and her whip coils around a rock instead!
Three other demons slam into Ezechias and Darsanga! The paladins turn aside both claw and tooth, but one, one bite makes it through their flawless defense. The unnatural chaos that surrounds the fiends twists and pulls at the Hellknights' shields, and a gap opens between the wall of steel! Somehow, in that moment of anarchy, the dretch snakes its maw about Darsanga's arm and bites down! The armiger can feel his flesh crawl and warp. When the demon pulls away, it is not flesh and blood that fills his maw, but maggots and a swarm of blistered, fungus-ridden locusts! The insects claw and bit at the hellknight's flesh, and rain down from the wound like insectile blood!
"Into the frey once more!" Chakat calls out, a brave clarion call to battle! Together, the tauric cat and Iavdi, heeding the Ezechias' strategy, charge to the northeast, and meet the pack of demons in a great clash of metal and corrupted flesh! Chakat's paw slips on demonic ichor seeping from the beast's unclean maw, and her lance slips wide. But, Iavdi's strike rings true and he runs the beast clean through on his glaive! Locusts and maggots and putrid slime spill out from the wound devouring the stone, and leaving behind pitted and and flaking earth.
|
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Ezechias gathers his wits and focuses fully on the fight. His shield arm is high on his chest, protecting his body at the best of his ability while the scimitar held in his right hand arcs through the air to try and cleave the fiend. The half-orc fights back to back with Darsanga, trusting his fellow Hellknight with his life. "Don't let them flank us, brother." he advises as the blade tears the flesh of the fiend.
Round 2; Initiative 19
As the demons closed in around her, D'Hara slid backward to her brethren and sent her whip at the legs of the dretch once more. Then she did something rather unexpected. She dropped her whip and quickly released the catch holding her spiked chain in place. As it slipped off of her, she grabbed it with both hands and began to twirl it around.
Darsanga felt the falls fade into the background of his visibility, everything was starting to turn. His Hellknight comrade moved to protect his back, and left him with two Dretches in front of him. Smiling to himself he shouted, "Death and Honor, Chain and Measure!!"
He dropped the sword with the holy symbols on it, and drew his Coldiron Morningstar, feeling the heft of it he smiled and swung it round his head."You die this day! Calling upon his innermost vows and reason he fought onward, pushing one dretch with his shield as he smote the other one as hard as he could attempting to cave in its skull.
Round 2, Initiative Count 15
"Disobedience! Giosue swore. "Fugiens milítia cæléstis concatenata et ministerium in gehennam!"
On the conclusion of his incantation, a radiant eagle appeared in a pillar of brilliant light and descended upon the nearest of the dretches.
Round 2
Kevroth lays his palm against the side of his sword and speaks a prayer in infernal, "God-Fiend! The First! King of Hell! Lend me your might! Imbue my blade with your power as the Prince of Law that it may strike down those who would sow discord and chaos.
After just a moment, the blade begins to glow with a soft yellow light and Kevroth reaches over his shoulder to bring his shield around, settling it on his arm and presenting the face of the shield, lacquered with the symbol of Asmodeus, to the enemy.
Her paws and claws kick away at the ground as she surges past the demon infront of her
She raises herself up, lashing out with her two claws, before stepping back and tries to skewer it with her lance
Kevroth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
D'hara: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Giosue: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Darsanga: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (17) - 2 = 15
Ezechias: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12
Antagonists: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12
Chakat: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Iavdi: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Kevroth lays his palm against the side of his sword and speaks a prayer in infernal, "God-Fiend! The First! King of Hell! Lend me your might! Imbue my blade with your power as the Prince of Law that it may strike down those who would sow discord and chaos.
ya that's a miss spell goes off
The demons snarl in fury at Kevroth's perfect words. Kevroth's clipped tones and iron-clad voice carries through the courtyard, demons' ears begin to bleed as the rigid and ordered perfection assaults their senses! Slime-covered rotting weevils and cockroaches slither and drip from their misshapen ears, splattering to a foul-smelling mist on the stones at their feet.
After just a moment, the blade begins to glow with a soft yellow light and Kevroth reaches over his shoulder to bring his shield around, settling it on his arm and presenting the face of the shield, lacquered with the symbol of Asmodeus, to the enemy.
As the demons close in around her, D'Hara slides backward to her brethren and sends her whip at the legs of the dretch once more. For a brief moment, gravity seems to invert as the corded length of leather stretches out towards the fiend, and the whip end bends bizarrely UP at a right angle to the ground. It snaps in the air with a loud crack, and then rushes back D'hara's hand. Then, the monk does something rather unexpected. She drops her whip and quickly releases the catch holding her spiked chain in place. As it slips off of her, she grabs it with both hands and begins to twirl it around!
"Disobedience! Giosue curses. "Fugiens milítia cæléstis concatenata et ministerium in gehennam!"
On the conclusion of his incantation, a radiant eagle appeared in a pillar of brilliant light and descended upon the nearest of the dretches. The eagle caws with the song and horn of a chorus! Its golden talons rake at the fiend's flesh, but, maggots and insects fill the wound as soon as they strike. But, it's heavenly beak strikes, plucking out an eye and spitting it on the ground, where it dissolves into putrid slime.
Ezechias gathers his wits and focuses fully on the fight. His shield arm is high on his chest, protecting his body at the best of his ability while the scimitar held in his right hand arcs through the air to try and cleave the fiend. The half-orc fights back to back with Darsanga, trusting his fellow Hellknight with his life. Don't let them flank us, brother." he advises as the blade tears the flesh of the fiend. The armiger's scimitar cuts into the demon's arm, cutting deep. A swarm of flies and fungus spores fills out a cloud of choking rancid gases.
Darsanga feels the falls fade into the background of his visibility, everything was starting to turn. His Hellknight comrade moved to protect his back, and left him with two Dretches in front of him. Smiling to himself he shouts, "Death and Honor, Chain and Measure!!"
He drops the sword with the holy symbols on it, and draws his cold iron Morningstar; feeling the heft of it, he smiles and swings it round his head. "You die this day! Calling upon his innermost vows and reason, he fights onward, pushing one dretch with his shield as he smites the other one as hard as he can, attempting to cave in its skull.
The morningstar flares with a brilliant flash of perfect, Hellish light, and the courtyard echoes with the crunch of demonic bone crushing beneath the weight of iron-bound will and discipline! The fiend roars with pain, it's face caved in, almost comically still formed, but dented in.
Once more, the dretches roar and descend on the Crusaders.
D'hara AoO
miss
Dretch on Kervoth
Dretch on D'hara
Dretch on Eagle
Dretch on Darsanga
Dretch on Darsanga
Dretch on Ezechias
Dretch on Iavdi
Dretch on Chakat
Dim, entropic cunning, fills one fiend's eyes as it circles wide about Kervoth, looking for an opening. But, brute knavery is nothing to the harsh discipline of geometry! The creature misjudges the distance and falls well within the reach of the Kuthite's chain! The strike lands true, but its razors cannot pierce demonic hide! The fiend snarls, and clamps its slavering maw about Kervoth's leg, scratching and clawing at him its corrupted, twisted talons. His perfect armor holds true, and turns aside all but a glancing blow from one claw, which hooks on his un-guarded face. Kervoth feels his skin melt and pull away beneath the unnatural presence of the fiend's nails.
Another demon closes in on the D'hara, and she feel the exquisite pain of two claws rend her flesh! Disgusting putrid wounds open on her body, nowhere near where the fiend's claws actually touched her! Fungus and slime fill the wounds as her flesh actually slithers off her body and puddles about her booted feet!
A third demon turns its claws and rubbery maw to Giosue's naive eagle. The bird caws in defiance, but is swallowed whole by the fiend. The bird kicks and squawks bizarrely in the fiend's belly, distending the flesh with its blows.
With a garbled mass of roars and clicks, Darsanga and Ezechias are beset on all sides by the fiends. The Hellknights marshals their defenses, but the creatures gets through, somehow! They feel their fangs and claws pit and melt through their perfect armor, ruining their arms and legs beneath the onslaught! They stand, still, perfect discipline and iron will holding strong in the face of the improbability of the fiendish horde, but they know that while the spirit is strong, the flesh is weak. They cannot withstand another assault!
The wounded dretch roars and launches itself at Iavdi, but the soldier's training holds firm, and the armiger's shield catches the assault square on! The other demon circles around the other way while a third closes and rakes at Chakat's side, but the tauric armiger's armor turns aside every blow!
Then, with grim discipline, Chakat charges. She will not allow herself to be flanked by the other demon! Her lance runs the creature through! The fiend howls in agony and then bursts into a puff of swarming, biting insects before blowing away in the wind.