The sun approaches high noon, you can see a crowd of civilians and priests amassing in Clywell Plaza for the opening blessing of Armasse. you see plenty of festival events as well as sparring matches just west of the grand stage. You witness Lord Hulrun himself, ruler of Kenabres walk out of the church in the east towards the main stage.
introduce and describe your character please.
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.
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Mario pitched a copper bit to Torondo at the fruit vendor and jumped up to catch an apple tossed in return. He smiled and waived in return.
Making his way to one side of the plaza, he took a seat on a convenient haybale to rest his feet for the moment. Shucking his pack and unbelting his swept hilt duelling sword, he opened the front of his shirt and took his hat off while eating the apple in the warmth of the noonday sun.
Anyone observing him would have judged him a junior officer of some kind, despite the threadbare uniform coat and cape, the feather in his cocked hat somewhat bedraggled. He was still a handsome man however, despite some road weariness; his hair just a little unkempt and a pencil thin moustache in the style of the Taldan military just above his crooked grin. He carried himself as one thoroughly familiar with his weapons and capable of handling them well.
He had a good view of the plaza and the ceremony about to be held, and he took a lively interest at the officials near the center. Out of habit he compared their style to that of his old infantry regiment in Taldor and judged it was comparable in the heavy political maneuvering, all the shuffling of places to get closer to the ruler.
A horse stabled next to his perch nuzzled the haybale for a mouthful, and Mario idly fed the last of his apple to him as he looked around.
He was curious, you see, as to what was next...
A figure approaches Mario.
"Well met soldier." The speaker is obviously a man used to arms and armor - even now, in the heat of the day dressed in scalemail, his gorget incised with an Ulfen wolf motif, his sharp facial features reminiscent of a native of Varisia, though his cool grey eyes speak to Ulfen heritage also. Eyes that gleamed with intelligence. That were now creasing with a smile still evident around a slim homemade pipe.
"Anowar Kharik" he says, putting his hand out to Mario. "Mind if I share a space?".
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"Hail and well met yourself," Mario said as he rose and gave a sharp Taldan bow over his own handclasp. "Mario Nedraid, late of Taldor myself. I believe I can spare a haybale or two for a fellow soldier, at least until we're chased off by the proprietor."
Mario fell back onto his bale with his hands folded behind his head; he looked up appraising the newcomer with a grin.
"Hm. Now you, you have the look of a cavalryman. Could one of these fine mounts be yours?"
Anowar grunts a negative accompanied by a slight shake of the head as he drops his pack and sits before working at the buckle on the harness holding his greatsword at his back.
"Not mine. Never had much interest in trusting another creature to step in the right place, especially a big, dumb beast that might break your legs if it fell with you on it. I'm an honest footsoldier Mario. The armor's a bit heavy, but it serves me well."
Anowar finishes unbuckling the greatsword and rests it in front between his legs.
"Anyway, old Deepstrike here can pull horsemen down, or their poor horses."
He then pats the service dagger at his belt. "And Gutter here finishes them off when they are flailing on the ground". There is no grim satisfaction or feral gleam in Anowar's eye, just a matter of fact statement born of experience.
From the look on Drake's face it is easy to assume he isn't a guest but rather a guard, looking over the proceedings waiting for something to go awry. Neither his angular, sunken and grim looking features nor his poised wary posture and crossed arms betray a single bit of how much he is actually enjoying the show.
Dark shouler-length hair and a goatee and mustache segmented by clawmarks reaching down from just below his left eye to his chin as well as a black scarf and black leather armor stand in stark contrast to the long white leather coat and white clothing he is wearing.
The many pockets on his clothing, three quivers of crossbow bolts as well as the crossbow on his back and the two longswords hanging off the right side of his belt speak volumes of Drake's practical nature.
He looked around for a moment, spotted the two men by the haybales, but ignored them for now. He fixed his gaze on Lord Hulrun's distant figure in anticipation.
Nigri has been coming to the Armasse festival since as far back as she can remember. Dressed in her finest yellow tunic, she represented the faithful of Sarenrae in this festival of the allied godess Iomedae. It's easy to become cynical at these celebrations, focusing on the fun and frivolity without a thought as to their spiritual meaning... like those two soldiers over there by the haybales...
"I mustn't think like this. Lack of piety does not mean lack of faith, and all is not lost."
She looked up to Shaemod who was standing next to her. He was brought back from the dead, and he still only paid lip service at ceremonies. But he had faith in her, and in his comrades. He kept going back to fight the creatures of the Wound.
Nigri moved a curl of her dark flowing hair from her face and glanced down at her backpack to make sure it was safe. She clutched her holy symbol of Sarenrae that was in her right pocket. The scimitar that hung on her belt had only had a minor role in her life, but she kept it sharp.
"The priest does drone on a bit," she admitted to herself. She couldn't help flicking her gaze to the two soldiers at the haybales. She hadn't seen them before among the wounded she tended to for a living...
Fomiel smiled at the pretty lady dressed in yellow. In a quick moment of self-consciousness he examines her long black hair and compares it to his for a moment. Reassured that his hair is indeed both of a better texture and more visually appealing then hers, he resumes his careful examination of the crowd.
I do not think the 'wild hair' look will ever be truly fashionable.
"Bloody daggers on batwings!" Nigri swore to herself, as she briefly caught the eye of a tiefling mixing with the local nobility.
The tiefling has the look of a courtier, and there aren't many places where tieflings can rise that high in a public position. Cheliax was one of those places, where the locals prostrated themselves openly and shamelessly to the hated Asmodeus. A shiver went down Nigri's spine.
"I mustn't prejudge. Sarenrae's light shines on all living things. But if there's and Asmodean in town, it's certainly worthy of investigation. Maybe those soldiers know who this tiefling is."
With those thoughts, Nigri walked to the two soldiers who were taking their ease, telling Shaemod she'll only be a minute.
Drake's eyes began to wander across the crowd again, he was too well trained to be aware of his surroundings to keep focussed on "unimportant" things for long. But now something caught his eye that might warrant his waryness.
A noble-looking figure dressed in what looked like the attire of a chelish noble was standing among the gathered rich folk. What was more, the man bore a pair of horns on his forehead.
Not only a devil-worshipper, but also one of diablic blood?
The creatures of Hell were never trustworthy and although Drake was aware of the difference between a tiefling and an actual fiend, he never fully trusted those of fiendish decent. Add to that the stories his father had always told him of the war back in Andoran...
And what was the tiefling doing? He seemed to be examining the other nobles around him. Perhaps he was looking for someone, but why? It all seemed suspicious to him,
There was no reason to cause a scene - yet,
Drake thought. He decided to move closer to the tiefling, so he could react immediately, should anything go wrong.
"What could this tiefling be doing here?" Nigri wondered.
Fomiel is nervous and it appears he seems to be trying to blend in. However, he seems comfortable in noble company. He seems afraid, but not of anyone in the crowd.
The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor. " Everybody settle down now. The crowd starting at Lord Hulrun in stage getting ready for the blessing of Armasse.
Lord Hulrun cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor.
to the west a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens where the wardstone had last stood.
Hulrun Yells at the guards " Get every able body man out here right now! Then exclaims all non militia head to the southern exit.
A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd—Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a human.
to the west, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!
Anowar rises on the first explosion, and swiftly douses and stows his pipe. On hearing the call for warriors he strides toward the assembling men, disdaining his pack in the rush. His eyes wide with wonder, he cannot tear his eyes away from this Stormking, this avatar of terror and doom. Deepstrike in hand he tries to direct civilians away from the impending danger, his officer's mien and practiced voice adding weight to his authority.
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Mario casts an admiring eye over Anowar's greatsword.
"Ah, that's a nice one to be sure, but I" here Mario taps the pommel of his elegant swept hilt duelling sword, "have a stout blade better suited to my style..."
At that moment the explosion rocked the plaza and Mario jumped to his feet sword out in a metallic flash.
"Cayden's Cup! What was..." His voice trailed off as he stared openmouthed at the oncoming horror out of the West.
Fomiels jumps up, and sees the silver dragon. He stares at it in open-mouthed awe. As the Storm King appears, Fomiel immediately attempts to avoid being in the line of sight of the fearful figure.
My worst dreams have been realized. He can't be here for me!
"Consider yourself lucky!", Drake, who is now standing less than ten feet away from Fomiel, grunts under his breath at seemingly no one in particular as he slides his crossbow off his shoulder and loads a bolt from a quiver filled with only black-feathered bolts.
With a metallic click, the lever sets the bowstring in place behind the piece of ammunition as Drake tosses an ice-cold glance at Fomiel and heads towards the gathering group of soldiers.
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The Storm King himself has come against us!
Visibly paling, Mario broke out of his stasis and quickly redonned his coat, sword and hat.
Quickly he stacked his and Anowar's packs into a makeshift shooting stand before cocking his crossbow and settling into a shooting position.
Great, this has to be the most flammable shooting stand ever... He thought as he placed the bolt.
Then he waited for the right moment to shoot.
As the ground continued to shake with the clashing of claws and metal a disgorge of demons burst through the west entrance where the wardstone once stood.
Demon after demon arose from the wardstone ashes seemingly endless and unusually organized a shock even to the armies of present times.
Lord Hulrun Yelled "Everyone retreat to the southern exit and protect the civilians." " Everyone in the knight division stay here and buy the civilians time."
Though never a knight, Anowar's scale armor and greatsword seem fitting to him to advance. Unhelmed, he moves forward, shuffling in with the others. Momentarily he wonders to himself - Just what am I doing here?.
He shakes his long mane of hair out of his eyes, wishing he had trimmed it as planned.
His hands clammy on Deepstrike's well worn handle, wind whips around him, almost as if the explosion of fiends had brought with it a fetid charged air from the bowels of the earth. Although scared, Anowar was ready.
Drake looked over the swarming demons to the massive fiery beast leading them for only a moment before heading south. Ten bolts weren't going to cut it today. Hunting a demon was one thing, but fighting an entire army? How well are the fighting men around him equipped to deal with these monsters?
There was no time to worry about that now, the civilians had to get to safety...
A startling realization hit Drake: Is the southern exit even safe?
With a sudden burst of speed he hurried further south keeping a wary eye on the area.
"Light protect us," thought Nigri as she saw the approaching figure of Khorramzadeh surrounded by his minions. She picked up her backpack to head with the other civilians towards safety, but then cought sight of the warriors massing at the southern exit.
"I could go with the civilians and try and heal them one by one if they get hurt, or I could go with the fighters and keep them alive longer to buy more time for the villagers."
It was not an easy choice, as Nigri had never been in the front line before. The closest she's ever been to a demon was that fateful night 18 years ago when her power first manifested...
Nigri pulled her armor out of her backpack, put it on, and ran towards the assembling fighters, taking her holy symbol in hand.
As she ran, Nigri tried to remember anything from her religious texts that might be of use against the Storm King...
Fomiel quietly joins the group heading south. He did not think the defenses sufficient with the wardstone down and the element of surprise on the abyssal side.
It will be a tough day for the knight division.
"That tiefling was frightened earlier, even though he didn't show it, but not of anyone in the crowd. I wonder if he knew this was coming. If he feared the coming of demons, then there's a chance he's not of the Asmodean ilk."
"What is he doing now? He's not running away, he's going *toward* the fight! I'd better keep an eye on him. And there's the two men who were lounging earlier..."
These thoughts flashed through Nigri's head as she joined the fighters.
He is known as the only balor that is covered in lighting instead of fire. you know he is far to strong without the aid of the wardstone and nobody should even attempt going against him without divine preparation or legendary items especially in the present state of the ambush.
You hear Lord hulrun yell "Don't let that dretch come through!"
A closer inspection reveals the horrific truth he is seething from within, as if his internal organs were coiling and writhing like a knot of greased snakes.
Anowar winces as he sees the demon horde's calamitous crash with the amassed knights. On hearing the commander's call Anowar steels himself, the onset of battle causing him to master himself and remember his role. He raises himself up as much as he can and yells his own encouragement to those knights around him:
"Hold the line! Hooold the line! Let none through! Remember your training lads and stick 'em where it hurts!!! For Kenabres!!!"
Standard Action - Inspiring Command (Inspire Courage - Audible)
A 1st level inspiring commander can use his performance to inspire courage in his allies (including himself), bolstering them against fear and improving their combat abilities. To be affected, an ally must be able to perceive the bard’s performance. An affected ally receives a +1 morale bonus on saving throws against charm and fear effects and a +1 competence bonus on attack and weapon damage rolls. At 5th level, and every six inspiring commander levels thereafter, this bonus increases by +1, to a maximum of +4 at 17th level. Inspire courage is a mind-affecting ability. inspire courage can use audible or visual components. The inspiring commander must choose which component to use when starting his performance.
Move Action: Rapid Tactician - grant all allies within 30' the Precise Strike teamwork feat for 3 rounds. Every ally now has this ability and can flank with each other to gain the bonus damage.
"What are you doing?!", Drake recognized the shooter as one of he two men he saw earlier by the haybales, with another burst of speed he rushed over to the guard to try and discern what was afflicting the man. Maybe he can be helped, but as long he couldn't be sure what was happening Drake kept his crossbow ready, maybe another bolt is the only thing that can do anything to help him.
One human shoots him and the other aids him--how curious.
Fomiel rushes to the guard and speaks for the first time in common to the two men standing over the guard.
"You two obviously don't know where to point those things, put them away before anyone else gets hurt!"
He speaks to the guard if the guard is conscious.
"Good gods man, what is happening to you!!"
"Do not take on the Storm King, he's beyond mere mortals!" shouted Nigri as she rushed towards the dretch. She stops 20 feet from the dretch and holds out her symbol:
"Holy light and holy flame!" she shouts.
Nigri looks around for any seriously wounded soldiers.
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Mario moves towards the seething solider and the allies flanking him.
"I?!" He replied to Drake and Fomiel clearly outraged at the insults. He gestures with his sword. "I am shooting at an enemy attacking our people! Are you cretins BLIND? That's clearly not human!"
He stops a few paces away and looks back and forth between them.
"...Right?" He said, suddenly uncertain.
Did he just shoot an innocent man? Or an ally from an exotic race?
"Demon! He's possessed!", Drake yelled as he took a step back, and aimed his crossbow, at the creature.
"It'll burst out any moment, ready yourselves!", he'd have to discuss Mario's "shoot first, ask questions later"-attitude later.
cold iron piercing damage
Fomiel nods.
"Not anymore."
Fomiel readies some arcane grease for the demon.
Nigri looks at the abominable dretch... such beings belong back in the Abyss!
"I must destroy this daemon before it breaches the line and starts attacking the defenceless!"
Brad - is it the next round?
If so:
Move Action: move to engage Dretch.
Standard Action:
Power Attack:
Damage:
(if crit) Critical Confirmation:
Faaaaaaantastic. 0_0