Clebsch GM Wrath of the Righteous Adventure Path

Game Master Clebsch73

The Storyteller walked slowly into the lodge, stepping carefully past many seated children in the open area in front of where the adults sat on benches, finally reaching the ‘speaker’s chair,’ a throne-like seat raised slightly above the floor. He positioned a cushion and sat, rose, adjusted the cushion, sat again, stood a little, fluffed the pillow to shift some of the stuffing, all the while watching out of the corner of his eye the children fidget in anticipation.

Finally comfortable, he spoke: “As you know this is the first night of stories in the new year and it has been seven full years since we last told the great story, the one that must be told lest we forget the sacrifices and the courage of those who, so many years ago, sought to seal the Worldwound, the rift between the Abyss and Golarion that opened at the exact moment the great god Aroden died.”

The storyteller paused for dramatic effect and surveyed the faces of the crowd. “It will take us many nights to properly tell this tale. As you know, storytellers love to embellish stories, to add details, to gloss over some things and makeup things to fill the gaps in our understanding of what went on. Be it known, however, that this is the true telling, as taught to me by the great storyteller of Arkestan, who is the keeper of the archives with the written records of those momentous events. Among these are the letters of Franti the Fool, who had pledged that he would write a thousand letters to his dearest love that she might after that agree to marry him. Others wrote of their parts in these events, of course. My story is as close to what really happened as can be told. Someday, one of you will take my place and it will then be your responsibility to do the telling. So listen well and remember….

"Then, as now, the sages of the community held forth on the lessons history taught about how to defend oneself in wartime and in peace, the warriors of the city taught the common folk how to fight with the weapons they could secure around their house-holds, and many other entertainments were held such as jousting tournaments and demonstrations of fighting techniques. But before any of this could begin, the ruler of Kenabres, Lord Hulrun, had to open the event with a ceremony at high noon in front of the cathedral of Saint Clydwell. The Clydwell plaza was jam packed with crusaders, residents of the city, pilgrims, and tourists. Whether by luck or fate, six particular people found themselves standing near each other as the speech was about to begin…"

PCs: Make an introductory post, outlining briefly the events that led you be standing near the speaker's podium in Clydewell Plaza, including your thoughts about this place and this day.

The sun had yet to peek over the walls of Kenabres, yet to illuminate the peaks of distant mountains, yet to give a signal to a new day when Franti opened his eyes. A smile curved across his lips. Armasse, he thought, what a joyous, jubilant day. Franti rose quietly, careful in his steps on the wooden floors of the inn. He tiptoed from his bed, twirling with each step. It was difficult for the fool to suppress his jubilation, difficult not to break into dance or song. He hummed gently as he emptied his belongings from his bag onto the bed. He searched with his hands to find his mirror and examined himself.

Franti’s features were handsome if a bit boyish. His short hair curled over his temples, dark against his porcelain skin. He twisted his head and curled his lips. He furrowed his brow and switched between wide, gaping smiles and sulking, exaggerated pouts. When the act was done, a genuine grin stretched over him. He took a colorful box, opened it, and inspected its contents. A superb, splendid Armasse it will be, Franti told himself.

Franti whispered a cheery tune as he painted his face. He coated himself in a base of shimmering pale gold. A wide streak of blue was to line his smile. Between his eyes and brow he painted stripes of periwinkle and burnt bronze. Under his eyes he drew curved spirals white and blue. He glimpsed in the mirror once more, revealing pearl white teeth in his soft dimpled smile. He wet his hands with water at his tableside, slicking back his curls. He applied the gold paint to his hairline as his humming reached a flourish.

Franti placed a faded, coral-pink wig over his head, covering what remained of his natural features. He donned his hat, jingling as he secured it over himself. The jester could not contain his glee, and waved his hands wildly in joy. From the neck up, Franti appeared as a bonafide fool. It was his normal state, his true self. His sullen brown shorts and shirt were quickly removed, replaced with colorful, playful garbs. In his ruffles were found all shades of lavender. The soft purple colors danced with patterns of white and lace, and battled with striking black and gold fabrics that trimmed the outfit. Franti gave a spin and a bow to his absent audience. As he imagined cheers and hollers, he struggled to not yell “ta-da!”

He placed leather armor over his attire. If the common man shall act as a warrior this lovely, luxurious Armasse, then so shall I, he thought proudly. Oh how the mercenaries and holy men shall chuckle and laugh to see me so! He writhed with glee as he secured each piece of the armor. The fool gathered his gear, placing what belongings he felt he wouldn’t need this evening at the bottom of the bag. Wandermeal rations, a sheathed dagger, an ink vial and pen, metal hook, candles, holy water and rope provided the support for the more essential gear. Essential gear such as a set of juggling balls, two decks of cards, dice, a whistle, a red demon’s mask, his entertainer’s kit, and fake gold coins. A journal of the jester’s was all that remained.

He opened the journal, turning its pages to the last written entry. “Dearest Opaline,” was sprawled in ornate writing by the top, followed by yesterday’s date. He imagined she would find no joy in his tirades of the day earlier. He imagined that reading of the smiles he brought on the streets of Kenabres would bring no kind curls to the lips of his love. He wouldn’t lie, never would he lie, but he would recount later each event he tried to forget of the day prior. Of the turmoil and dread behind the eyes of the men and women of Kenabres. Of the spirited words of a Sarenrae paladin stating there was no redemption for men like Franti after an insult to her goddess. Of his own fear of venturing into the Worldwound. He closed the journal and placed it into his bag. He pulled the cords and slung it over his shoulder. What a pleasant, picturesque Armasse this will be.

With a chime to each of his steps, Franti left the inn. He set up his act in the center of Clydwell plaza. He greeted dawn like an old friend, smile wide as he reached into his bag and removed a rainbow assortment of heavy beanbags. He began to juggle while the city stirred from its slumber. While a butcher and his son prepared their stall, Franti juggled. While the town’s crusader’s patrolled in high spirits of the day’s festivities, Franti juggled. And as the streets began to teem with life, as the sound of laughter the birds began to ring, Franti juggled.

“You aren’t a funny fool, are you?” a man said, the first to address the Jester. Young Franti responded with a smile, speeding his juggling and throwing the balls higher. The first set up, he thought. He threw all of the balls high to the heavens. He crossed his arms and responded. “Good of a fool as an-” The first ball struck his head, a red orb the size of Franti’s fist. He cried out and made a spectacular fall, concealing a smile as he tumbled to the stone. He raised his neck to rise, only to be hit with the falling orange ball. Another. Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo balls fell from the sky, halting Franti from rising each time he cocked his neck.

As the last ball fell, Franti hopped to his feet, rising straight from his back to standing on his belled boots in an instant. He reached his arm in front of himself to catch the final violet ball, not even looking to the sky to see where it is. He closed his hand and caught… air. The final ball striked him on the head, falling to the ground as Franti’s face feigned disbelief. Several others watched, a few with smiles as the man who insulted Franti bursted in laughter. Franti bowed low, nose to knees. A crowd gathered and Franti rose with a smile. “Iomedae, Cayden and Norberger walk into a Cathedral. They left feeling divine.” Less laughed, one booed light heartedly, and a holy warrior shook her head and went back to patrolling the streets with a smile. Franti began his first act for the crowd, tallying each of their grins as they appear. What a glorious, great Armasse this is, thought the fool.

The young paladin had awoken early in her tiny area in the small headquarters the Everbright Crusaders had carved out for their own. She had not been excited about Armasse...indeed, she didn't even remember the day was special until she was having her breakfast later in the morning.

After rising, Elllena, as always, said her prayers to The Inheritor, which took a solid hour, afterwards, she had a quick review of one of her favorite chapters of the 11 Miraculous Acts of Iomedae. Act 4, in which the Light of the Sword convinced a ragtag crew of injured warriors to not abandon their post at the Second Battle of Encarthan, even though the bastard undead had them outnumbered. They held out until the dawn light broke and reinforcements arrived on the scene. To inspire such belief and to have held such courage, she wistfully thought. Her group of Crusaders had done wonderful work, but it would take more than that for the Inheritor to grant Ellena her true blessings.

The warrior of light then bathed, before donning fresh clothes. Personal hygiene and attention to appearance mattered. You must be nice and clean to get the attention of others. That'll give you a chance to catch their ear, she reminded herself.

Before donning her gear, she made sure her armor and shield were polished to a shiny gleam. She resembled a Mendevian Valkyrie, tall, sturdy, blonde locks sticking out from her impressive helm. She was truly a sight to behold.

As the norm for her, she packed her usual items before going on her foot patrol. Attacks happened all the time. Best be ready for anything.. She remembered the holiday, and that hurried her pace of getting ready. The streets would be teeming with people, or demons that looked like people.

Ellena bounded out into the streets, and the din of people was already overwhelming. As the day passed, she didn't detect any overwhelming evil natures from sketchy looking people. She sneered a bit as she walked past a halfdemonblood. She'd keep her eye on those untrustworthy tieflings.....

She noticed a jester degrading himself for a few coins. Better cut down by a demon than to live life like that, she considered, shaking her head at the thought. As she turned away, she saw that the mayor of Kenabres was taking the stage. She paid rapt attention, giving him the respect his position deserved.

Today, all would see her Radiance.

Avelina could hardly sleep the night before as she imagined all of the various scenarios that might play out once she revealed her lineage and powers to the crowd. None outside of her family's household in Nerosyan knew of the Gift she received from the Inheritor years ago, the Gift that she had trained in secret for so long. Before she left the quiant inn room she had rented, Avelina kissed her fingers, placing them to the lips of her icon of Iomedae, as she did every day.

Her outfit had taken weeks to pick, so the fact that she needed to cover it in a plain cloak until the time of her debut infuriated her. The outfit had much in common with the standard Iomedaean cassock. However, the yellow trim had been replaced with a more ostentatious gilding, the skirt only went to the knee and was pleated, and the arms were sleeveless. Her leather opera gloves and thigh-high boots matched the same style. Most of her wavy golden blonde hair was back in a galtan braid held by at least half-a-dozen ad hoc ties, but a few loose locks framed her face. One engraved tome—her copy of the Acts of Iomedae--hung from belt cords on her right, and a longsword modeled after Iomedae's holy symbol hung in a ruby-encrusted scabbard on her left.

As she walked the streets of Kenabres, Avelina had the utterly contented smile of someone completely at peace with their place in the world. Who would not be content to be the Favored Soul of the Inheritor? Perhaps because of that contentment, Avelina was the only person in the crowd that did not laugh at The Fool's Starstone joke, her lips instead turning down into an indignant frown. The audacity! How could someone even think to place a drunken fool like Cayden Cailean—much less that vile Norgorber—in the same sentence as the Glorious, Beautiful Inheritor? Luckily, before she has the opportunity to voice her displeasure, Avelina's attention turns to the crowd gathering at the stage.

She quickily ducked into the crowd, taking care to avoid the low templars and sweaty men everywhere. While a fair part of that aversion lay in simple disdain, the girlish eighteen-year-old had learned to remain wary of the criminals that the "Ungrateful Southerners" (as Avelina refered to them) had sent to reinforce the crusades. Thus, Avelina gravitated towards a valkyrian blonde woman. Clearly, such a strong and beautiful warrior could have only been placed in the crowd by the Inheritor to be Avelina's protector. Avelina brazenly hooked her arm around the woman's, resting her other hand upon her armored arm.

”Well, how are you, Darling? A lovely, righteous day, is it not?”

She gave the woman the once-over, a commander checking the dress of her soldier. Despite her attempt at noble, inscrutable restraint, Avelina could not prevent a blush appearing on her cheek.

”It's always nice to see a devout woman—err, person, yes—with a sense of cleanliness. Cleanliness is next to...um...Goddessliness. Yes, that's the word.”

Trying to recover from her flustered blunder, Avelina allowed her hand to drift up to her hair, and she began playing with one of her forelocks.

”I am quite looking forward to seeing the proceedings today. I hear that the Queen's niece will be making an appearance. Have you heard anything about her?”

Sense Motive 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

Ellena was caught unawares by the forward woman. Glancing at the violater of her personal space, she relaxed just a bit upon seeing the holy symbol and Longsword of Iomedae. Ellena smirked quietly while using her Detect Evil ability.

After taking a second to be sure the newcomer was 'clean, Ellena smiles broadly, this time her grin reaching all across her face. "Every day in service to the Inheritor is righteous, m'lady. But yes, it's nice out today. Ive not heard of any special guests, though. Why would the Queen's niece address the crowd? Is there a royal engagement to announce? Or is it dire news? Has there been news from the Wound?"

Dawn was a feeble thing near the Worldwound, not the gentle burst of warmth and light that greeted sleepers in the rest of Golarion. Here, where the filth of another world leaked into this one and the land itself birthed blood and death, the morning sun was a flickering torch struggling to reach through choking clouds and an off-color sky.

Yet Anarya had never known another sun. As the day's first light streamed through the tiny window into the small temple chamber she called home, the young woman awoke with a smile. Today was Armasse! Her heart fluttered as she thought what that meant. Long had she tended the sick and injured among crusaders returning from the front lines of the Fourth Crusade, but it was at today's ceremonies that she would be assigned a company to march with beyond the city's walls.

Anarya knew some of the Sisterhood were worried about her decision to volunteer, given her disability. Couldn't she just stay here, they had asked, in the relative safety of the city? There would always be wounded to tend, even so far from the warfront, after all. Leave the crusading to the most able-bodied soldiers, they reasoned. Anarya understood their apprehension, but the strong-willed young woman had made up her mind. She knew she could save more lives in real battle than by hiding behind the city's walls.

Thinking on this did little to calm her nerves, though. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that she would be fine. Hadn't the sisters always told her that Iomedae was watching over her? If her heart was pure, and her mission righteous, surely she would prevail. She reminded herself of the miraculous acts that Iomedae had performed in her mortal life, and the church's lesson that any devout follower, true in their faith, could follow in her footsteps. And after all, I am hardly seeking to slay a gargoyle king or battle a horde of wraiths. I can handle a healer's tasks, it's what I'm best at!

She thought all this as she prepared for the day, washing her face in a basin of water and dressing in her traveling clothes, made of clean but simple wool, unadorned. Her knapsack lay in the corner, already packed, much of the equipment it contained still unused. A slender mace of the prized metal cold iron, a gift from the retired crusader-turned-priestess Sister Evelynn, lay atop it.

As she finished dressing, the wooden rod dangling from her doorframe which served in place of a knocker jerked in place, a sign that someone was at the door. She smiled and went to open it, greeted on the far side by Sister Maryam, who would be attending the festival with her. "Good morning, Anarya!" the older woman signed, giving the temple's young ward a warm hug. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Is everything packed?" she continued.

"Yes, Sister Maryam," Anarya signed back. "I'm very excited. This is an important day for me."

"We are all excited for you too, even if we worry," she responded, her aged eyes crinkling in a smile as her hands moved to sign her words. "Armasse is a happy day in a time when happy days don't come around too often. I'm looking forward to attending the festivities with you."

Breakfast with the sisters was bittersweet. Anarya said her goodbyes to the women who had been her family her whole life, and many hugs and blessings were exchanged. A few hours before noon, Anarya and Sister Maryam had set out for Clydwell Plaza to attend the ceremony, the festivities already well underway by that point. The two women stopped to see the act of a brightly-painted jester, Anarya laughing with genuine delight at the man's silly antics. She couldn't bring herself to be nervous of the coming announcements after a display like that, and was still smiling when the pair found their way to a position near the front of the plaza, where Maryam's hearing could still clearly discern the Lord-Mayor's speech. The two women signed back and forth to one another as they waited for the speaker's arrival.

Anarya couldn't help but notice the ostentatious noblewoman accosting the amazonian paladin's arm nearby, and her keen eyes followed the finely-dressed lady's lips to see her words. She blushed with a grin as she turned away, not wanting to eavesdrop, almost giggling at the woman's forwardness and flirtatious manner.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

What a character, she thought. The queen's niece? Goddess, I didn't even know Galfrey had a niece. She must want to hear all the gossip about herself. Shaking her head in amusement, she settled in to wait for Hulrun's speech, knowing it was likely only minutes away.

Avelina beamed at Ellena's comment about service to the Inheritor. Ellena's conjecture on the subject of her--err, the Queen's niece's role today made Avelina's expression quickly explode in surprise. She had not prepared herself for the mention of the dreadful "E" word.

"An engagement!? Why would people...I mean...nobody has even..."

She opened her mouth in a gasp, punctuating her realization with a pat--almost a slap, really--on Ellena's armored arm.

"Unless you mean Ulthy. I--she turned him down quite gracefully. I heard."

Avelina used the opportunity of a soldier pushing past to not only lean herself in a little closer to Ellena, but also to drive such unpleasant thoughts of arranged marriages away and return to her favorite subject: herself.

"But anyways, every day in Service to the Inheritor is indeed Righteous! I could not have said it better myself! That's why I hardly changed a word when I repeated it, you see. The second I saw you, I just knew I had found a Righteous Soul such as myself. I have a sense for this kind of thing, you know."

Avelina held up a finger, a signal that she had an idea.

"In fact, allow me to show you!"

Perception (lovesick penalty): 1d20 - 2 - 2 ⇒ (19) - 2 - 2 = 15
Knowledge (planes) (untrained): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
I'm hoping identifying an aasimar is a DC 10 or less and that a 15 perception is enough to spot Anarya in the crowd, especially since she's close enough to see us.

Out of character, I just want to try start getting the gang together :)

As a scion of humanity, Anarya has nothing that would indicate that she's an aasimar and not a human, actually. (At least, as long as her halo isn't active. :P) She automatically passes for human without a disguise check.

She does have an ancient looking silver holy symbol of Iomedae at her hip (in an artistic style that indicates it's likely centuries old), so she certainly looks like a "righteous soul." She's standing with an elderly woman who is clearly a nun, most likely from the nearby St. Meridia's Convent (I have a sneaking suspicion that Avelina might be aware of the only all-female Iomedean order in the city).

Anarya glances back at the pair, and sees the nearby noblewoman scanning the crowd with a broad grin on her face. She can't help but stare as the woman's gaze falls right on her, and furrows her brow slightly, curious what her intentions are.

Oh, doh. I forgot from the recruitment that you were a Scion of Humanity.

Oh, and you're totally right that Avelina would know of St. Meridia's Convent ;)

Avelina scanned the crowd, her eye immediately being drawn to the familiar habit of a St. Meridia Convent nun, along with the striking young woman next to her. Avelina dramatically points towards her, the gesture bringing attention to Avelina's long white and gold gloves.

"See, right over there. A Righteous Soul if I ever saw one. The holy symbol of silver--that's the purest of metals, you know--and she has very striking noble features, and you can see she's with a nun from St. Meridia Convent--the best convent in Mendev, in my humble opinion--so I am clearly right."

Avelina grinned and held up a hand and wiggles her fingers in a dainty wave. She followed with a "Come here!" wave.

"Hello, Darling! Come speak with us a moment!"

A bit taken aback by the sudden invitation, Anarya turned, tapping on Sister Maryam's shoulder and quickly signing to her that she was stepping away for a moment. This was partially for the nun's benefit, but mostly served as a subtle way of communicating her deafness to the gregarious noble.

Anarya approached the pair, smiling at each and giving the noblewoman a respectful curtsy. "Hello, milady," she said, "Sir knight," she continued, nodding respectfully to Ellena. "How may I be of service?" Her voice was perhaps slightly too loud (but who could complain, in the cacophonous noise of the Armasse festivities), but her clear pronunciation indicated she had learned to speak long before her hearing had left her.

When Tauni awoke, her first thought was Armasse. She smiled at the thought; it had been a hard year and this felt like today could be a new beginning for her. The barracks were quiet; she knew everyone would either be on duty or already on the streets for the growing celebrations.

Rising slowly, Tauni stretched, cleaned and dressed before going back to her bunk. She collected her pack and crossbow, then turned to head out to the common room. She paused, turned back to her bunk and threw back the covers. The gesture exposed a white rabbit with icy blue eyes, sprawled out and completely relaxed. The disturbed rabbit raised its head, regarding her coldly.

”Come on, Cobblepaw. It is going to be a big day.” Without waiting for the hare, Tauni went out to the common room. It was deserted as she expected, but some coffee and porridge was left on the stove. Tauni smiled; her friends amongst the guard did take good care of her. Not only did they let her stay here after her parents passed away, but they took every opportunity to make sure she had what she needed. Good men and women, all of them, she thought as she sat at the common table. She enjoyed the simple breakfast and flipped through her spellbook. She was almost done when Cobblepaw finally came out. He made his way over to the bowls left for him by the guardsmen, and went to work on his own little breakfast that was left behind.

When Tauni was done, she packed up her spellbook in its oiled bag. She used a minor spell to clean her plates before putting them away. On her way out the door, she scooped up Cobblepaw and stuffed him in her bag as well. A moment later, the rabbit’s head poked back out of the bag, taking in the excitement of the day in the laziest way possible.

As she worked her way toward the central plaza, Tauni took her time, meandering her way through the streets. The streets and alleys become more crowded the closer she got to the plaza. Along the way, she stopped in front of a dry goods store, staring long and hard at it. Just a few months ago, the shop was owned by her foster parents. She had helped her father run it, and they’d all lived in the apartment above it. Around the corner was the small office her mother had owned for her scribing business.

They were so very happy there. Her father didn’t survive long after he fell ill, and her mother followed him not long after. Tauni sold the shop afterwards, donating the money to the church of Abadar to ease their passing into the Great Vault. Since then, Tauni has been living in the barracks attached to a small chapel, the same barracks that house the Abadaran soldiers she has been volunteering patrols with for years. Despite how well things are going now, her heart still aches at the loss of her beloved foster parents.

From inside, the new owner of the shop noticed her and waved to her. She forced a smile and waved back. Snapped out of her ruminations, Tauni moved along. Before long, she arrived at the plaza. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun. The day had a feel of destiny about it, and she couldn’t wait to see what the day would bring.

A bit taken aback by the sudden invitation, Anarya turned, tapping on Sister Maryam's shoulder and quickly signing to her that she was stepping away for a moment. This was partially for the nun's benefit, but mostly served as a subtle way of communicating her deafness to the gregarious noble.

Anarya approached the pair, smiling at each and giving the noblewoman a respectful curtsy. "Hello, milady," she said, "Sir knight," she continued, nodding respectfully to Ellena. "How may I be of service?" Her voice was perhaps slightly too loud (but who could complain, in the cacophonous noise of the Armasse festivities), but her clear pronunciation indicated she had learned to speak long before her hearing had left her.

Avelina placed a sisterly hand on Anarya's arm for a moment, a brief gesture of friendship.

"My name is Avelina. I'm sure you're thinking that that's the same name as the Queen's niece. That's simply just a coincidence though, nothing more."

Avelina clutched her knight's arm a little closer.

"And I will allow my new friend to introduce herself."

She moved her free hand to her hip while also adjusting her stance to give her a better view of her two new friends.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

Anarya nods in acknowledgment of her words. "My name is Anarya, milady." She doesn't seem to be trying very hard to conceal her identity, she thinks. She waits for the knight to introduce herself.

"Greetings to the both of you. I am Ellena. Ellena Lovain. Now that one," pointing to Avelina, "...seems to know who's who around here. She's already figured out that you, Anarya are from the St. Meridia crew. I'm in the Everbright Crusaders myself. We patrol the town when we are on a break from fighting on the front lines. Commander Cobelen says we need to relax ever so often, so he to,d us to enjoy the holiday."

Sense Motive 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19

"Avelina...that is the Queen's niece's name, isn't it? Wait, that's your name, too.". The paladin's face wrinkled as she attempted to work out the conundrum. "So, you're the Queen's niece? Nice to meet you, my Lady.". Her face went red as she remembered the earlier conversation. "Sorry about saying you were engaged, maybe," she blushed at her earlier possible insult.

PCs should note that Anarya is exceptionally beautiful. Anyone who cares to look for it can see many men and a few women checking her out visually. If Avelina were looking for Aasimars in the area, she might suspect that Anarya has aasimar background on the basis of her stunning good looks, although on closer inspection, she sees no overt signs of aasimar heritage in any particular feature such as eye color or complexion or hair.

At the end of his act, Franti wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He smudged the gold at his forehead and revealed a smear of his pale skin. He bowed so quick he toppled himself over, flipping forward and landing on his bottom. It was a practiced routine, but one that always got a laugh. Franti scanned the crowd, looking for new smiling faces. He had a knack at finding smiles. No two are the same. One hundred and four! One hundred and five! One hundred and six! He counted them blissfully as he rose to his feet, pulled up by a woman in a fit of laughter.

Franti looked to the sky, hand over his eyes, attempting to guess the time. Noonish? Franti packed his gear back into his bag. He scrounged up all the smiles he could in this spot, he thought he could find more in a different part of the plaza. But something caught his eye before he could find a place to settle. A being of perfect purity. He was stunned, he had never seen anything like it. He took a step forward, thinking about the first words he would make to this untainted, pure specimen of beauty. He evaded the wanderers in the plaza, not stopping when asked to tell a joke. He was captivated.

“Umm, Miss,” the jester began, eyes darting from his feet to her eyes. “I, umm, your, umm...” Franti could not contain himself anymore. He dropped to his knees with a crying song, holding his head in his hands as looked to the snow-white hare peeking from the woman’s bag. “Her name, her name! I must know her name! This hare in your care has me smitten, I claim!” He looked up to the woman with the rabbit. “Eyes so blue, plume so white! An incarnation of Shelyn I see in my sight?”

Franti got to his feet with a spin, frills of lavender and white dancing. “Franti the Jester, you’ll not find one, umm” He paused a moment before a wide smile took control. “You’ll not find one best-er!” He looked to the woman, but his gaze always fell back to the little white hare. He squirmed with glee. “I gave you my label, give me yours if you’re able. And the rabbit that inhabits your bag like a stable.”

Tauni's first instinct was to dismiss the fool as frivolous. But it was Armasse, a time for celebration. Her second thought was perhaps he was distracting her for a pickpocket, but Cobblepaw wasn't warning her of anything. With a warm smile, she turned the street performer and said "I'm Tauni, but some friends call me Rabbit. They think I'm lucky. He-" she says as she scratched the white rabbit's head "Was a gift from one of those friends. I named him Cobblepaw!"

Untrained Religion: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
If a fool isn't frivolous, what good are they?

Franti's face went aghast. How foolish of him to assume such a magnificent, wholesome creature was female. He hanged his head in shame. His face was in a pout, the painted blue smile that lined his lips from cheek to cheek betrayed him. "A rabbit and a hare - is there a joke somewhere?" He looked up at her smile, and his frown instantly faded, replaced with a wide grin.

"One hundred and seven! Your friends say true. There must be some luck in that rabbit or you..." Franti mouthed the words 'Cobblepaw' over and over to himself while looking to the hare. "A lovely name, Cobblepaw, I'll even hold my rhyme." But he thought: I'll buy carrots for you to gnaw, for I'll see you another time.

Ha gave his attention to Rabbit now, chuckling at the distinction. "Well little Rabbit, are you here for the jousting, the jokes or the journey? All are here for one of those 'J' words."

Tauni smiled at the clever word play from the jester. "Have I seen you around here before? I would think I would remember, but with the cosmetics..." She gives his question a moment of thought, then answers "Journey, I would say. What about you, clever fellow? Are you here for the puissance, the puns or the pilgrimage?"

Ellena's realization of her not-so-well-kept-secret drew a pleasant sigh from Avelina. She rolled her eyes and smiles to herself.

"Oh, well. I should have known that my natural Radiance would mark me, especially by fellow Righteous Souls. I swear, it is impossible to travel incognito these days."

Avelina turned her smile to Ellena.

"Worry not. You did not know my distaste for the 'E' word. It brings to mind all those icky marriage arrangements and proposals. I will only marry for love and romance. I have on particular knight in mind. I am ever ready for that Beautiful, Glorious, Wonderful, Powerful, Beautiful knight to ride up and sweep me away."

Avelina suddenly disengaged her arm from Ellena's, entranced by some image in her mind. Avelina closed her eyes and sighed wistfully, cradling her face in her hands, and giving a girly twirl.

"Oh, my Beautiful, Glorious, Wonderful, Powerful, Beautiful Inheri--."

She caught herself, halting mid-twirl. She straightend herself out and took a more refined, reserved stance, head held high. The performance might have been convinving were it not for her suddenly flushed red face.

"Yes. Well. That's nothing for you to worry about. We have more important things to discuss. That's not to say that the Inheri--that my 'personal-matters-that-are-no-business-of-yours' are not important. Of course they are, but they personal. Extremely so. Hence the name."

Avelina lightly bit her lip as she tried to redirect the conversation. She finally gave a voiceless "Ah!" and tapped Anarya on the arm again.

"Ah, yes! I called you over here, Darling, to..."

Avelina halted suddenly, then places a hand on her hip as taps her chin.

"Why did I call you over?"

She shook off the question, moving her other hand to her hip as she raises her head high.

"I suppose the Will of the Inheritor just overcame me. You see, as an Instrument of Her Will, I am particularly in-tune with her Divine Plan, and clearly I was meant to meet you here."

Anarya listened to Avelina's spiel with a bemused expression on her face, her eyes having to dart left and right to follow the vivacious young woman's lips as she moved about. Fortunately the royal heiress seemed to always be speaking as if her every sentence were a performance, her enunciation making it easier to make out her words by sight.

By the end, she smiled sincerely. "It has certainly brightened my day to have met you both, milady. Sometimes, Iomedae's plans can be as simple a blessing as that, I've found." She looked out over the bustling crowd, seeing the bright-faced squires and aspiring crusaders eager to test their skills and enjoy a day of respite from the war's daily horrors. "This will be a day full of meaning, I am sure. I join with one of the crusader companies for the first time today following the ceremonies. It's an exciting time, though I must admit I'm a bit nervous," she said, biting her lower lip. She glanced up at the knight towering above her as she continued. "I've little training as a warrior, but my healing skills should be able to help those on the front."

"Healing is very good. Those bastard demons and their troops hit hard. Even the toughest warrior needs support or they will fall, sooner or later. I'm sure your healing will be welcomed by any group," Ellena explained to the cleric.

Ellena couldn't help but be bemused by the noble girl, however. Very pretty, bit of a drama queen, she thought with a grin as she watched the lady twirl around in full view of the whole crowd. "Ah, yes. I'm sure your knight in shining armor is out there for you. Don't give up hope!"

As noon approached, the heart of Kenabres, the old city, filled with people eager to see the ceremony to open the Armasse festival. The old stone buildings were crowded together with little space between them except the narrow streets. The west and east end of the old city were dominated by two structures, the Temple of Iomedae and Clydewell Cathedral. The cathedral was the spiritual heart of Kenabres and the most visible structure in the area, rising above the walls, its green copper spire a reminder that Iomedae was watching over the city. The temple, though smaller than the cathedral, was also an impressive sight with its massive domed roof. Also visible from the old city was the Kite, an emblem of the city's role as defender of Mendev, a twenty foot tall kite shield facing the twisted realm of the Worldwound across the West Selen river that flowed past the city at the foot of high cliffs. The Kite marked the well-fortified and guarded building wherein stood the Kenabes Wardstone, a tall stone obelisk covered with arcane runes that invoked powerful protective magic that stretched all the way north and west to the next wardstones along the border.

Between the two massive buildings were two open plazas, in front of each building. Most of the people were milling about the Clydewell Plaza, where a platform had been built for the city's most important citizens, rulers, and military leaders. Already on the platform were Nestrin Alodae and Eterrius Sunnestier, the two highest ranking clerics of Iomedae. Nestrin was quite old, with a soft white beard, resplendant in rich vestments befitting the leader of the most popular religion of the city and of the Crusades. Eterrius, though younger, was also the director of activities at the cathedral and more active in coordinating the resources of the the church with the military activities of the Crusades.

Other dignitaries waiting for the arrival of the ruler of Kenabres were Hatherelm Arir, a widely admired playwright from Cheliax, Captain Chun Dawai, the Tien soldier responsibile for keeping order in the crusader camps north of the city, Kimroth Otai, who lost his right arm fighting demons and now runs the largest inn in the city, Quedyns Orlun, the founder of the Librarium of the Broken Wing, the premier library for researching anything related to demons and planar travel, Caelda Halse, an aasimar swordsmith who held a newly crafted longsword which was to the prize for the winner of the combat contest, Crocris, a half-elf druid who tended the many parks and gardens throughout the city, Juliani Nalti, the crusader promoted to oversee the protection of the massive winched crane which is needed to lift supplies imported to the city from the river below.

All the leaders of the prominent crusader orders were present, resplendent in their polished armor and ornate holy symbols. There was Commander Ciar Cobelen of the Everbright Crusaders, Miammir of the Order of the Flaming Lance, Commander Ashus Striegher of the Order of the Sunrise Sword, and the stone-faced Liotr Hawkblade, chief inquisitor of the witch hunters who patrol the city looking for evidence of corruption and possession. Various other civic leaders and bureaucrats filled out the ranks. Also present was Beltran Ravenken, spokeman for the secretive Riftwardens, who study the effects of the Worldwound on the land itself.

The name Terendelev was on the lips of many, who hoped they might see the ancient silver dragon who resided in the city and was rarely seen. Although she had never attended the festival in her dragon form, many still hoped she would grace the ceremony with her presence. Although it was known that she sometimes mingled with the people in the guise of a human female, none were sure what she looked like. Most looked for a tall woman in paladin gear with silver-white hair, but if she was in attendance, none had yet positively identified her.

A murmur went through the crowd as the ruler of Kenabres, Lord Hulrun Shappok, emerged from his large home near the plaza. Replendant in his polished armor, the sword of Iomedae emblazoned on each shoulder plate and on his large shield. He began to walk toward the plaza, accompanied by a number of soldiers and a few aids holding scrolls and other documents important to the event. It would take several minutes for the ruler to make his way toward the platform where he traditionally opened the event with a short speech. People began to shift closer to the east end of the plaza to get a better view and to hear the speech.

After she glanced around and did not see any of her friends from the Abadaran patrols nearby, Tauni, excited to have anyone to share the day with, grabbed Franti by the arm and pulled him along through the crowd. "Come on, we can see better from over here!" She continued to pull him into the crowd until she spotted something. "Oh, look at her!" she said, marking a fair, beautiful woman in the crowd. Do you think that could be Terendelev? Let's get a closer look!"

Unless he resists, Tauni will continue to drag the jester along toward where she spotted the beautiful Anarya in the crowd.

“Puns certainly. Crusaders and Cavaliers Kenabres is packing, but Clowns and cackling this city is lacking." He smiles at Rabbit and the hare. He wasn't yet used to being entertained by those in Kenabres. As the heroes of the Worldwound made their entrance, Franti was inspired by awe. He would be unable to move if not pulled by Tauni.

What a dazzling display, thought Franti. He moved his gaze from holy warrior to righteous hero. With each one his face lit up until he spied two familiar and feared faces. Witch hunters. Liotr Hawkblade, and the Kenabres’ lord himself. Franti twitched as he was pulled. He stared at the men with malice and a twisted expression. Tales in Ustalav were seldom spun in a favorable way for Witch Hunters. And the Third Crusade is here to aid. Grand, Franti thought to himself. After he was pulled across half the plaza, Franti shook himself out of it. He joined Rabbit now, searching for the Dragon-woman. Not an instant passed when he saw who the wizard was speaking of.

Franti lowered his gaze to his feet, ringing the bells at his toes meekly. “Beauty rivals my lovely queen, though I still favor Opaline.” Were he not covered in paint, it would be apparent that Franti was blushing. As his eyes took quick glances at the woman, he thought over how he should act in a dragon’s presence. “If I spoke her tongue, I could tell a joke. While I may be young I -” He stopped, ending his rhyme unfinished. “Do dragons take kindly to fools?

Karas awoke as he did every morning. Sprawled out on the bed he was given so long ago. Groggily he came to to see the note on his nightstand with an elegant T inscribed on the front.

He reached over and opened to note to see the message left for him.

Karas,

-T-

He stared for a second while his head caught up through the fog of sleep. Wait... what is today? Armasse?! Oh crap! What time is it!? He jumped from the bed and rushed over to his window. Throwing open his curtains he saw that the sun had nearly peaked noon.

"Oh crap! I'm late!" he turned and quickly gathered all of his things. repeating frantically, "I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!"

He quickly slid into his clothing. A simple tunic and breeches in colors of deep blues and purples but finer fabrics. Over this he through on his scale-mail armor. She had always taught him to be prepared for anything and he took her words to heart. The scales gleamed in the light after he spent hours polishing them the night before. They shone brighter than the scales of his own skin.

He ruffled his short white hair into something relatively less disorderly and checked himself in the full length mirror in the corner. He always felt so silly in the nicer clothes but she insisted on them and it would sadden her not to wear them.

His skin was a dulled silver accented by brighter silver scales. He eyes were also white with just a slight shade difference between the iris and the rest leaving the pupil as the only visible color. His tail handed him a belt and he tied it on quickly.

He threw on his always stocked backpack and threw the door open and he struggled with his boots. He stumbled into the hall and finally out the front door at a sprint.

There were many double takes in the crowd as the silver tiefling bolted through the crowd but he had long since learned to ignore them.

Just shy of noon Karas made it to the fountain to see her. It took a moment but he managed to pick her from those gathered. He strode up to her huffing and puffing. "I *huff* I'm sorry I'm *puff* late. I hope I didn't *huff* make you miss anything."

The woman turned to him. Her long silver hair was braided down to the waist and she wore the same simple clothing as he did. She had bright blue eyes and pale skin. A bright white smile greeted the tiefling. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes with sarcastic surprise.

"Silly boy, you almost missed the presentation!" she laughed as she grabbed his arm and pulled him further into the crowd, "Hurry now so we may get to the fun!"

A hush fell over the crowd as Lord Hulrun and his entourage moved slowly toward the speaking platform. Attitudes toward the leader were mixed. Some admired him for his zealous inquisition to root out remnants of the old Sarkoris shamans and witches during the Third Crusade. Others resented or even hated him for the exact same reason. Perhaps more than either of these groups were the crusaders too young to know much about those times over 40 years ago.

As people waited for him to reach the stage, more than a few nervous glances were made toward the skies. The day had dawned remarkably clear for a city on the edge of the Worldwound. Any day when sunlight touched the streets of Kenabres was considered a good day. But as noon approached, so did dark clouds from the northwest. Even before the rift opened, violent thunderstorms frequently stampeded across the plains. But now when storms came through the Worldwound, they rained down more than water, thunder, and lightning. Dark magical energies rippled across the skies and dropped strange creatures or acid rains into the cities and farms of Mendev.

It was usually best to get indoors before such storms struck, but people were so anxious for the start of Armasse that they waited despite the towering thunderstorm as black as midnight that seemed only minutes away from the West Selen River. Lord Hulrun looked back, saw the clouds and immediately picked up his pace to get to the stage the sooner and beat the arrival of the storm.

Franti spoke a bit louder than intended. He didn't speak in rhyme or with whimsical fancy. The fool dropped his act, and Franti spoke his mind. "Look to the stage. A murderer gives a speech to his adoring fans." The jester didn't pause for laughter. "And to think some say Ustalav is a place of horrors..." How fitting he brings a storm with him, thought Franti.

Background music for this section.

Karas followed as she pulled his arm, they weaved through the crowd to end up near a few nuns and one of the Everbright Crusaders. He did his best to maintain a smile and not make eye contact with the crusaders and holy people.

Her excitement was the only thing keeping him from moving away from them. This is Armasse damnit. I'm allowed to have fun without the stares and disdain! They waited patiently for the speech to start and festivities to begin. Then they could forget for a day, the horrors outside the walls and within.

Avelina smiled at Ellena's reassurance that she will find her knight, returning to clasping her arm, this time perhaps a little tighter.

Before she could speak again, she noticed the sudden appearance of Lord Hulrun and the storm accompanying him.

"Hmph. Take the storm as a sign of the Inheritor's displeasure with you, Hulrun. You stand where others should have." To her new companions, this was the first time that Avelina spoke quietly and calmly. Grave thoughts had brought the flighty girl back to ground.

Avelina could not remember her parents. She had seen their portraits, caressed their clothes, and enshrined their image in the highest heaven of imagination, but she could not remember them. That day, while this man on the stage had remained within these walls doing butcher's work, her parents died. That he was there and they were not was proof enough to her of his guilt. Many had said Hulrun's work was simple iron necessity. She believed that nothing was iron nor necessary. In her mind, there was no reason to use bad means for good ends when you can use good means for good ends, and the matter required no further discussion.

She smiled to herself as she imagined her Grand Reveal, her Radiance cowing the man. The Favored Soul of the Inheritor would show the people true Glory.

Ellena shot Avelina a crooked eye. "He did what needed to be done. Those shamans and witches needed to be killed. They were evil with no hope of redemption," Ellena added, missing whatever deeper point that Avelina was trying to make.

The paladin inhaled deeply and took a step away from the demonspawn that had taken up a spot close to her. She immediately used her Detect Evil ability on it. Dark storm clouds brewing and the demonspawn showing up? That's a sign! She starts looking around in all directions, afraid there was some evil plot afoot that she would be forced to halt.

Tauni looked around nervously at those disgruntled in the crowd. She had heard many rumors and stories about the man, but had no way of knowing if they were true or not. A trial, she thought. A fair trial could lay the matter to rest for once and for all. But no one seemed ready to bring him to trial, and she thought those represented on the stage did not include enough devout to Abadar. Maybe that's why there hasn't been a trial...

As the storm started to brew, Rabbit pulled her cowl over hear head. She reached down to scratch Cobblepaw's head, as much to calm him as to make sure he didn't run off again.

Anarya's face darkened. She knew of Lord Hulrun's overzealous witch-hunting in his days as a church inquisitor, and even among the faithful his popularity wavered. That was many years prior, though, and she had seen firsthand the change in the Lord-Mayor's actions. It had been many years since the former inquisitor had performed such dark deeds, and she knew that while he had made little progress endearing himself to the locals, he had truly changed, and regretted many of his past actions. Despite all that, she just didn't like the man, and frowned at his arrival near the stage.

At Ellena's bold declaration, Anarya responded softly, not directing her words at anyone in particular. "Redemption is always possible."

Karas flinched at Ellena's harsh declaration. People can always be redeemed. sometimes even the damned righteous do terrible things in the name of good. Hell, Hulrun did awful things during the inquisition. Doesn't mean you have to like them, but everyone deserves the chance to shed their evils.

He looked to the woman holding his arm with a look of excitement on her face. She wouldn't want to see anyone die who could be saved. She was a beacon of hope in this hellish town of 'righteousness'.

He looked over, though, when the little nun responded with words for his thoughts and smiled again. Sometimes people get it.

Ellena whispered to the cleric. "More of the Inheritor's Acts involved slaying evil than redeeming it! If She had to slay evil, then I will do the same. Glory to Iomedae."

She keeps looking around, not able to shake the uneasy feeling she had. She trusted her gut, and she was worried. "Let's get closer to the speakers. Something strange is going on."

Andi want to get away from that halfbeast!

A bemused sigh followed Ellena and Anarya's brief debate, Avelina's attention wandering.

"Oh, these arguments are just so silly. All of these "well, what if the goblin has babies" or "do you let a giant fiendish centipede trample three people or make it move so it only hits one" what-if scenarios are just meant to confuse the Morally Righteous by making them overthink things. Clearly, Iomedae will reveal the course of action she deems most suitable in the moment."

She paused, tilting her head to side in a conciliatory manner.

"Though I can understand that perhaps some people are just not as in-tune with Her Will as I."

Avelina then hooked her other arm around Anarya, turning all of the girls in the same direction, as though they were schoolgirls on a walk through town..

"So no need to argue, Darlings! Just stick with me, and the Path of Radiance will reveal itself!"

Her attention finally drawn back to the scene around her, Avelina took back her arms, placing a single dainty finger on her chin as a thought came to her...

"Something--most likely the Inheritor's voice--makes me think something strange might be afoot. Onward, those that Stand in Her Legion!"

...or rather, as her subconscious transformed an utterance of Ellena's she half-remembered into her own idea.

FYI, Anarya's not dressed as a nun, though she did arrive with one. She looks almost too young to be one too - she's barely into adulthood.

"do you let a giant fiendish centipede trample three people or make it move so it only hits one"

You scatter because the Order of the Dragon cavalier wins initiative and lets everyone take a move action, and the centipede picks your squishy magus to trample, who is unbuffed because nobody told you that you would be teleporting directly into a combat encounter... Not that I've played The Elven Entanglement or anything.

Anarya let out a little involuntary yelp as Avelina grabbed her arm. Living in the convent, the young woman wasn't used to much physical contact unless it was with one of her patients, and the sudden motion surprised her. She was about to respond to Ellena, but Avelina's grab dragged her sideways, interrupting her planned response. Perhaps it would be better to say nothing anyway, she thought.

Yeah...I think my opinion on that creature is well-represented by how I thought of it immediately when trying to think of a stand in for an unstoppable train in that age-old ethics thought experiment :P

And so as the people watched Lord Hulrun ascend the platform and stand before the crowd, the plaza was balanced on a knife's edge of anticipation to hear his words that Armasse could begin and desire to seek shelter before the storm broke. Flickers of lighting and rumbles of thunder nudged the crowd one way while the ruler of Kenabres' words tugged them back.

"Crusaders. On other days, I would address such a multitude by listing others such as lords and ladies, citizens and pilgrims. But today, on Armasse, we are all crusaders. Today we return to the tradition of learning the lessons of war and the techniques of battle, for just as this impending storm threatens to ..."

Ellena nods at the Lord's words. We are all Crusaders.! Be prepared for war and battle always! My silly new friends just don't understand that...they've not seen what I've seen. Ellena's focus on her surroundings went away as she honed in on the words of the speaker. Perhaps he could convince the crowd of his importance of his words.

Lord Hulrun's words were obliterated by a tremendous crash of thunder from a lightning bolt that struck the Kite, turning everything white for a moment. When all eyes turned to see, where the fortress housing the wardstone had been was now nothing but a plume of red smoke wreathed in sheets of electrical energy. Movement from the direction of the storm caught everyone's attention next, accompanied by a dizzying cacophony that surged toward Kenabris, a mixture of wind, driving rain, and the spine melting ululations of a thousand demons headed straight for the city's heart.

Movement at this point is beyond any PC's control. People begin to surge this way and that. Those trying to move run into those frozen with fear or others trying to run the other way. There no not yet much anyone can do against the on-coming storm, but post how your PC reacts.

Edit: Anyone wanting to cast a spell must first succeed at a concentration check, with a DC of 15 + spell level, for combination of violent motion from the crowd and wind and rain.

Still on her hackles, Ellena swiftly draws her sword from its scabbard. "Get back, everyone! The demons are coming! I will protect you!"

Throwing herself in front of her two new acquaintances, she held her arms out instinctively protecting Avelina and Anarya behind her. She was glad those two couldn't see the lines of worry that crossed her face, most unbecoming for a glorious holy warrior. It would take a miraculous Act worthy of Iomedae for the town to repel the massed attackers, but no one else needed to know that.

Franti was pushed every which way as he stared into the sky above him. Sounds blended together, the screams, the cries, the trill sounds from above. His mouth was a opened thinly in shock, and his wide eyes conveyed his horror. A holy warrior screamed nearby, but it fell on his deaf ears. Franti was paralyzed, but he managed to stay standing.

The rain reached him long before a demon had. A thick bullet of a raindrop struck his temple, rolled down his cheek. In its wake was a pale line of Franti's unpainted skin. As the rain continued, it stripped Franti of much of his guise. The gold base erased with each droplet. The spirals of blue and white broke in their design, distorting until they faded from his cheeks. The bronze over his eyes seemed resistant, but the periwinkle stripes were carried down his face by the water. The blue stroke over his lips was stubborn, and did not yield to the rain.

The paint left faint streaks of color down his face and neck. Some of it absorbed into the whites of his outfit. He was pushed to the ground by someone of the crowd. Franti rose, pulling himself from his shock. From deep within him something gathered. It grew and festered in his stomach. It choked him as it climbed out of his mouth. Franti expelled a laugh. The fool looked back into the sky, eyes and brow covered in dread and terror while his mouth deluded a growing smile and roaring cacophony of laughter.

Until further notice, it will be almost impossible to say anything that will be understandable above the noise of the storm, the demons, the battles, and the screams and shouts of the people all around. Even Anarya will have trouble reading lips due to the constant jostling of the crowd and the interference of rain and the rapidly diminishing amount of light, as the storm moves in and blocks out the sun.

Background music, starting with the lightning strike

Optional background music: Techno version

For a real immersive effect, open the following two links and play them simultaneously with either of the music tracks, adjusting the volume levels as desired.

Crowd Panic Sounds
Battle Sounds

When the crowd panicked, Tauni tried to hold her ground. The bold paladin shouting defiance seemed an inspired place to stand and die, but the surging crowd had a different idea. Tauni didn't bother trying to cast a spell or ready her crossbow; either would have merely been lost in the press of the crowd. With one hand on the scruff of Cobblepaw's neck and the other on her holy symbol, Tauni fought against the stream to make her way back to the others standing defiant.

Better to die here than hunted down alone. she thought grimly.

For a moment, she glanced down at Cobblepaw and considered letting him go, that he might live on. But the defiant glare in the hare's intelligent eyes told her he wouldn't leave her regardless.

Tauni struggled with the fear washing over herself and the crowd. For a moment, her mentor's words echoed in her mind. Focus and work through it. Even as the panic was making her shake, her mind calmed and started working: she analyzed demons coming in for strengths and weaknesses; she tried identifying crests and symbols of those who stood to fight and those who fled; she considered tactics and odds; she started to come to peace with the fact that she would die, here and now, and join her parents in Abadar's Great Vault in moments.

Avelina's gaze shot to the sight of the stone's spectacular end, then back towards the rumbling of demons in the distance. Her face quivered in fear for just a moment. Then, she remembered that she was the Favored Soul of the Greatest Goddess that Ever Has Been or Will Be. This moment was meant for her.

Avelina eagerly took her place with Ellena and Anarya, grinning with wild anticipation at the oncoming battle. She was too foolish to know fear. The Inheritor's Providence had given her two protectors, after all. She even made sure Avelina would have a cloak to shield her from the rain. Her victory was already written. The Inheritor would provide.

Today, all would see her Radiance, and a bright light shines all the brighter in the darkness.