Clebsch GM Wrath of the Righteous Adventure Path (Inactive)

Game Master Clebsch73

Tauni's thorough search of Hosilla's lair turned up nothing new.

Franti begins with something simple. "What's your name?" As soon as he said the words, he regretted it. He couldn't come off compassionate now. "I'm not sure I care, really. This isn't a redemption." Afterwards, the fool grabbed the note from Anevia, holding the letter towards the bound woman, but far enough way that she couldn't grab it. "Where is the safe house, who took the sword, and what's in Drezen?"

Anarya watched the captive carefully, seeing her look around the room for her fellows. Is she protecting them? she wondered. Who knows if she's truly loyal to the demons, or if those cultists coerced her somehow. She thought about the mongrels who they had managed to spare, unconscious in the next room. She'll be in for a surprise when she realizes we took them alive. We might need her scared now, but she'll learn about Iomedae's mercy when we're done with this, whether she helps us or not.

I haven't been keeping track - did we actually manage to keep all the mongrels alive?

Back from the con now! Sorry for the delay. I'm so upset that I missed some of the post battle RP D:

Avelina looked on in wonder at the great blade, the name "Yaniel" fluttering about at the edge of her mind, the young princess inable to grasp its meaning until Aravashnial spoke of its history. Irrepressible joy took over Avelina's whole body as she realized the significance of this blade finding its way to Her Champion at this most propitious time. The girl began hopping and clapping with her usual glee.

"How Glorious! How Beautiful! How Divine!"

"You understand, don't you, My Champion? The Goddess's Providence is at work here today! Our Beloved Inheritor has placed this Most Holy of Blades here just for you!"

Avelina threw her arms around the paladin, closing her eyes and hugging the paladin tight on a joyful whim.

"I am so happy for us--"

Avelina opened her eyes, dropping the embrace and taking a step back.

"--I-I mean you. Yes, of course."

She turned away, lightly biting her lip.

"Yes..I've, we've been blessed," Ellena said with a dumbstruck smile on her face. She couldn't help but notice how nice Avelina's hair smelled as the smaller girl embraced her. She had more to say about the Blessings of the Inheritor, but suddenly she forgot exactly what point she was trying to make. "It's nice," was all she was able to mutter.

As the cleric (Ellena supposes she is s cleric) released her grip and turned away, Ellena's face was quite flushed to anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention.

"My mother named me Hokona, which means redeemed in Shoanti. I now answer to Wenduag, which means darkness. I can show you where the safe houses are if you will heal me and take me to the surface with you. I lived in Kenabres from the time I was 10."

She speaks surprisingly well, although her voice has a harsh feral quality that seems at odds with her well formed sentences and knowledge of different languages. "No need to lecture me on the noble morality of Iomedae and the other gods and goddesses of the crusaders. I have witnessed first-hand how they love to curse the unlovely, how they gang up on them and beat them and rape them when the leaders are safe in their fortresses and homes. I have already been tortured by their inquisitors trying to make me confess to a crime I did not commit. It was Baphomet's followers who saved me from all that and treated me with respect, gave me a purpose."

She spoke with little emotion, but apparent sincerity. She seemed to recall that she had been asked several questions besides her name and said, "I know nothing of the sword or Drezen. They were Hosilla's concerns."

The fool smiled under his mask. I say it isn't a redemption, yet her name means "redeem"... The joke isn't lost on your servant, Picoperi. The fire around him began to smolder, and his pale shoulders showed beneath some of the burnt clothing. As she went on, the fool found himself unable to respond, somewhat hollowed by her words. The crusades certainly weren't without their demons, Worldwound aside. He began to breath uneasily, and when he spoke, it was no longer intimidating, but rather inquisitive, curious, and perhaps almost caring. "And what of your concerns, Hokana?"

Avelina's eye twitched and her forehead throbbed. She wrenched her truncheon so hard that it began to bend.

"Cursing the weak...beating them...torturing them...raping...."

Strength Check: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Her hands turned red and raw at the tightness of her grip, but she didnt budge the wood.

"SUCH VILLAINY MUST BE PUNISHED. You, tell me who these blackguards are so I may remove their heads from their shoulders. The Inheritor's Legion does not tolerate such disgusting, base, and cile behavior!"

She throws down her mace and draws her sword holding it out as though the guilty stood before her right now, the point pressed against their neck. That seemingly neverending overflow of joyous glee has turned to righteous fury, like a refreshing stream of cool water suddenly turned boiling.

"I am Crusader Princess Avelina Theodosia Iomedae Rydell Cecilia Galfrey, Heir Presumptive to the Throne of Mendev, Favored Soul of the Inheritor, and Daughter of Lady Cecilia Lucina Fizart Galfrey and Lord Rydell Owain Basilio Galfrey. I swear by the Crown of Starrise Spire, my Divine Mandate, and the Souls of my Exalted Parents that I shall inflict just punishment upon those responsible for these perversions."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

Karas slammed a fist on the desk he was near and stormed into the room directly in front of Hokana.

"I know far more than these others of what you speak!" He shouted in her face. " Do you want to know the irony? It was not the crusade that saved me but a person who loved that city and it's people above her own life. The cultists of baphomet? They took me when I was 6. Tortured me in captivity for 20 years, and tried to use me for some summoning ritual. Don't tell me they know respect. Don't tell me they know honor. Their purpose was to use you as they see fit then toss you away like garbage!"

He tore away at his scalemail and tunic until the scar on his chest shown. "Nothing. But. Tools."

Anarya felt ill. She'd felt perhaps a twinge of hesitation when helping Franti lie to the prisoner, but she'd tossed that aside in the heat of the moment. They needed information, and scaring her (without meaning to hurt anyone, of course) had seemed so logical. Now, though, she realized something else had been hurt. As a follower of Iomedae, she was supposed to represent the faith as a living example of the Goddess's holiness to all people. Presented with not an evil monster, but a person before her, her cheeks flushed with shame at what she had done - the fictitious persona she'd adopted fit right into this poor soul's distorted views of the crusade.

'It is that easy, Anarya.' Sister Maryam told the young girl, explaining the moral of one of Iomedae's parables. 'Not one soul in this world begins down the path to evil because they want to. The first step is always a tiny thing - and more often than not, good men and women do it because they think that compromising on righteousness will result in a greater good in the end.' Anarya listened, wide-eyed, to her teacher. 'Even a good person can do wrong,' Maryam continued, 'But what makes the difference is when you realize your mistake, and take action to make amends.'

Anarya had promised fervently that she would never do anything bad, no matter what. The nun had smiled at the girl's innocence, reminding her that no one was perfect and no one lived a life without mistakes. 'If you promise to always try to fix your mistakes, Anarya, then that is a promise worthy of the Inheritor.'

Anarya's halo went out, snuffed out like a candle. The mocking expression she'd adopted sank into a look of pity, genuine pity for the prisoner. She knew she was about to throw away the hard work of Franti's skillful performance by breaking character, but she knew - this wasn't the way they should act. "Hokana... we shouldn't have threatened you like that. I want to say we had good reason to throw our principles away and threaten you with abuse, but that's no excuse. You fought us, but it is is we who should ask you to forgive us." She sighed, sinking to the ground beside the captive woman, taking one of the deformed mongrel's hands in her own. "What you say of the things you've seen crusaders do... I'm not so naive I deny that there is corruption in Kenabres. Crusaders are not above acts of terrible evil. The witch-hunts, and the inquisitors preying on the innocent, were a loathsome mistake. We have fought to put that behind us, to ensure we never sink to such depths again."

"It's not our way to torture or threaten, and yet we just showed you we're capable of doing just that. We're no better than those who broke their vows and tortured you as a child... but we can do better than this. Hokana, we're not going to torture you, or hurt you anymore. You don't have to help us. But if you do help us, and guide us to the safehouses, you'll be helping us protect more innocent children from coming to harm. Our mission is not to punish, but to protect, even our enemies." She looked to the door, to where the other mongrels lay unconscious but alive. "Your fellow tribesmen are alive, Hokana, and I swear we will not harm them either." She looked directly into Hokana's eyes. "Will you help us? We do not need to be enemies. Let us prove to you that we can be better than those who have wronged you before."

Diplomacy (Sacred Vow + Hero Point): 1d20 + 9 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 9 + 4 + 8 = 30

Anarya is invoking her sacred vow (from her Legalistic curse) for a +4 to this check, and spending a hero point for another +8. She (and I) legitimately feel guilty for threatening a prisoner - it didn't sit right with me, and just like Anarya, I pushed the hesitation down and did it anyway. However... it gave me this incredible roleplay moment, so I am glad I did it. Anarya is sincere in her desire to make amends - she knows what she did is unbecoming of a worshipper of Iomedae, and knows there's only one way to make this right.

Image of Wenduag

The fool smiled under his mask. I say it isn't a redemption, yet her name means "redeem"... The joke isn't lost on your servant, Picoperi. The fire around him began to smolder, and his pale shoulders showed beneath some of the burnt clothing. As she went on, the fool found himself unable to respond, somewhat hollowed by her words. The crusades certainly weren't without their demons, Worldwound aside. He began to breath uneasily, and when he spoke, it was no longer intimidating, but rather inquisitive, curious, and perhaps almost caring. "And what of your concerns, Hokana?"

Wenduag glared at Franti. Hokana is dead. I serve Baphomet.

"SUCH VILLAINY MUST BE PUNISHED. You, tell me who these blackguards are so I may remove their heads from their shoulders. The Inheritor's Legion does not tolerate such disgusting, base, and vile behavior!"

She throws down her mace and draws her sword holding it out as though the guilty stood before her right now, the point pressed against their neck. That seemingly never-ending overflow of joyous glee has turned to righteous fury, like a refreshing stream of cool water suddenly turned boiling.

"I am Crusader Princess Avelina Theodosia Iomedae Rydell Cecilia Galfrey, Heir Presumptive to the Throne of Mendev, Favored Soul of the Inheritor, and Daughter of Lady Cecilia Lucina Fizart Galfrey and Lord Rydell Owain Basilio Galfrey. I swear by the Crown of Starrise Spire, my Divine Mandate, and the Souls of my Exalted Parents that I shall inflict just punishment upon those responsible for these perversions."

Wenduag regards the outburst with a smirk and perhaps pity. "The Usurper's Legion does tolerate such behavior simply by failing to patrol the streets at night. And if you want to locate those who commit these acts, just walk alone on any dark street at night without a weapon or armor and they will find you. I don't suppose your exalted parents would allow you to be in such dangerous places or even let you know that they exist."

Karas slammed a fist on the desk he was near and stormed into the room directly in front of Hokana.

"I know far more than these others of what you speak!" He shouted in her face. " Do you want to know the irony? It was not the crusade that saved me but a person who loved that city and it's people above her own life. The cultists of baphomet? They took me when I was 6. Tortured me in captivity for 20 years, and tried to use me for some summoning ritual. Don't tell me they know respect. Don't tell me they know honor. Their purpose was to use you as they see fit then toss you away like garbage!"

He tore away at his scalemail and tunic until the scar on his chest shown. "Nothing. But. Tools."

Wenduag's expression changed from pity to disgust. "Oh you poor man. I'm so sorry. You were offered salvation and you rejected it. Don't you know, torture shows you who you really are! They offered you a gift, just as those crusaders who tortured me gave me the gift of knowing what they thought of me. And yes, I am a tool. A tool of Baphomet, and proud of it."

As Wenduag watched and listened to Anarya, the smirk faded and her face was as emotional as a stone statue. Her face had multiple eyes which glowed green, making it look almost as if her features were being reflected in a broken mirror. It was hard to tell her emotional state, but some of her insectoid limbs that stuck out of her torso gave little twitches and her rat-like tail switched back and forth slowly.

"It's not our way to torture or threaten, and yet we just showed you we're capable of doing just that. We're no better than those who broke their vows and tortured you as a child... but we can do better than this. Hokana, we're not going to torture you, or hurt you anymore. You don't have to help us. But if you do help us, and guide us to the safehouses, you'll be helping us protect more innocent children from coming to harm. Our mission is not to punish, but to protect, even our enemies." She looked to the door, to where the other mongrels lay unconscious but alive. "Your fellow tribesmen are alive, Hokana, and I swear we will not harm them either." She looked directly into Hokana's eyes. "Will you help us? We do not need to be enemies. Let us prove to you that we can be better than those who have wronged you before."

Wenduag considered what reply to give for a number of slow breathes. Then she said solemnly, "I will cooperate with you if you will the others are not killed. Although if you deliver them to Neathholm, they are likely to be executed. But I can show you the way to the surface. I will do so, but mostly so you can see the justice that has already been wrought by the demon armies."

She spoke more softly, so those listening had to step closer to hear. "Let me tell you a story..."

Continued in next post.

"My mother hoped I could serve in the fight against the demons and prove that our folk are worthy of a place in the light. I was only ten, so I found my way to an orphanage and told them I had wandered in from the Worldwound after my parents died. They took me in. The orphanage was run by a young idealistic man who said many things that encouraged me, much as you have just done. He tried to convince the other children to accept me as I was, although they never really did. When my body started to mature, many new deformities manifested and some crusaders began to train me to be a ranger. They intended me to be a spy, really, hoping the cultists and traitors they suspected were in the city would try to recruit me."

"It was during my training, once away from the caring eye of the orphanage's principle that I learned what crusaders were really like. I vowed if I found any cultists I would help them rather than report them. A few years later, I met the orphanage's principle again. He had been sent to fight with the crusaders and was away in the Worldwound for long periods of time. When he saw me he almost didn't recognize me. I barely recognized him. The warm glow of love I saw in his eyes and heard in his words had gone out. He invited me to have a drink, but when others in the bar objected to my presence, he abandoned any pretense of friendship and let them call me names and throw food at me until I left."

"I now know what happened to that man who had been my friend. When he faced the demons of the Worldwound, it was like holding a mirror to his face and he saw what he was really like on the inside. His ideals were stripped away like the inquisitor strips a captive before applying his scourge. He discovered that his own life was more important than his lofty words about love and forgiveness. I will accompany you to the surface, but I predict you will see your reflection in the demons who must surely be controlling the city by now. You will break your vow before the week is out."

Wenduag's attitude toward you has changed from hostile to indifferent. Per the rules, this may not last more than a few hours, but that depends partly on how she is treated.

"All those names sound familiar, though I don't seem to remember much about them. Estrod... That's that big gray tower in New Kenabres, right? Horgus, do you know anything about these buildings?" Anarya had seen Horgus's discomfort, and gently offered him the chance to open up about what he might know.

Horgus seems a bit tongue-tied, but eventually speaks, "I have had business dealings with Kandro Nyserian. I had no idea.... " Horgus paused and glanced at Anevia. "He borrowed money from me not long ago in order to buy a sword. It happened to belong to Irabeth. I thought nothing of it at the time. Now I wonder why he wanted the sword."

The mongrelwoman's words struck a blow in his mind. His eyes once more started to glow as he reared back a fist.

Someone please stop me from hitting her.

"Stop, Karas! Hitting her isn't called for now. This woman must stand trial for her crimes. She and the others should be taken to Neathhome to answer for their actions. Don't drop to her level," the paladin sniffed, as she made sure to protect these lot until they received the justice they deserved.

The glow faded as he stopped at Ellena's words. "I am no ones tool. Not Iomedae's. Not Baphomet's. My will is my own. You're lucky, she would want me to save you too. You'll see. In a fight we are all the same regardless of how we look. All that matters is whether you want to do good or see the world burn."

I have no idea if this will help or not.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

"If she will help us, I say that Hokona, or Wenduag, whichever name she chooses, should be given a chance. She has thrown her lot in with the demons, but what crimes has she committed? Defending herself and her home?" Anarya looked at the others, still kneeling beside Hokona and holding the mongrelwoman's hand. She turned back to the prisoner, continuing. "We will show you how crusaders should act. And we will put a stop to the crimes you witnessed. Victory would mean nothing if we let ourselves become as vile as the demons we fight."

(For the following, I kinda assume the conversation with Horgus is taking place at a different time, rather than during the conversation with Wenduag. PbP makes this kind of thing a bit weird. For pacing, I've included my reply here.)

Hearing Horgus's reply, Anarya thought aloud. "The sword of Yaniel, the sword of Irabeth... What are cultists doing with holy knights' weapons?" She thought back to the note. "We must learn what this 'corruption' in the note entails. If 'S.V.' refers to Staunton Vhane, we can assume the so-called Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth are involved too - they're rumored to have infiltrated the crusaders' ranks on more than one occasion."* Anarya looked for Anevia, and relayed what Horgus had said about Irabeth's sword. "Had you heard of this? Do you know why your wife might have sold her sword?"

Avelina sheathed her sword and folded her arms, indignant that their prisoner still continued to push back against the Embrace of the Righteous.

"Hmph. How presumptuous! To think to lecture me upon matters of faith and honor? I, who was Chosen to serve She that stood Her ground against the Lord of Mohrgs at the Battle of Three Sorrows, when Her Goddess's corpse had been thrown at Her feet? Do not presume to think that others are as weak as you."

Avelina gave a final scornful laugh at Wendaug's pronouncement at the end of her story.

"'Break our vows?' How ludicrous! I shall see you choke upon your words before the week is out, and when you admit that--

Avelina paused for a moment, pushing down her insulted rage. It was her duty to be an example, and she would show this pitiful creature. She drew upon the strength of her Inheritor, not yet recognizing she truly called upon her own strength.

Avelina knelt, addressing the captive face-to-face. The young girl smiled. Avelina did not remember it, but her mother had smiled at her much the same.

"And when you admit that you were misguided, I will forgive you your trespasses against me and mine, for that is the Way of the Righteous. Hatred, revenge, and resentment are the Ways of the Wicked, our enemies. You shall learn this lesson. I have not the slightest doubt."

The conversation regarding the safe houses and Horgus and the swords can be assumed to have taken place before the episode with reviving Wenduag. By the way, there were two methods proposed for healing Wenduag: Franti did 7 and Anarya did 4. Which took place?

When Anevia learned about Horgus' claim that Kandro Nyserian borrowed money to buy Irabeth's sword, she was puzzled for a few breaths before her eyes misted up and she began to weep. Slowly she regained her composure and choked out an explanation. "The sword was her father's. It was enchanted to fight evil but when I noticed she was not using it, she shrugged it off with one excuse or another until I forgot about it. That was right around the time she gave me a great gift, a wedding present, so that we ... I wondered how she could afford it. She must have ..." She could not go on and cried some more.

Wenduag says nothing to the various statements made to her or for her benefit by Anarya, Karas, Ellena, and Avelina. She watches and seems perhaps amused at the earnest way each one seems to believe what he or she says. The hostility she exuded palpably drained away, as if the energy to maintain it were too much. She sat and said nothing, perhaps because nothing had been asked of her. Her alien features made it hard to read her, but for the moment, she seemed to relax and perhaps trust you.

Franti removed his mask as the last of the popping embers began to fade. he looked at Wenduag's eyes, shook his head, and left the scene. He let out a sigh, and was stricken with guilt after Anarya's speech. The fool took off his somewhat tattered shirt, put his belongings back into his bag, and removed a small, handheld mirror. Franti looked at himself.

The fool didn't like how he appeared. The makeup didn't match his heavy heart. The golden rays beneath his eyes seemed foreign to him now, and the white base made his reflection seem eerie. He took out his paint kit and one of his waterskins, and tried to repaint his features. He let the others talk, somewhat deaf to their words. After a couple of misshaped patterns, Franti began to wash everything off, giving up his foolish looks.

He put his leather armor on over his unclothed skin, and kept his jester's robes, belled boots, fool's hat and coral wig in his bag. He put the silver scale over his heart, and contemplated taking on another form. He settled on his natural look: short black hair and pale skin, wearing only his armor and brown pants. His shoulders and arms were exposed, not covered by the leather. With his colors drained, Franti appeared bleak, an honest representation of an Ustalav man.

Franti turned to the others. His voice was monotonous, and lowers than its often shrill, excited tone. "Are we to untie her then?"

DM, I have an Alias prepared for such situations, is it fine if I post as such with it, or would you prefer I stick with my default?

Tauni returned from her searching at the sound of raised voices. Having come back into the room at Franti's suggestion,

Tauni frowned. "Are we sure that is a wise course? That we shouldn't wait until we get to the surface?"

Alternate aliases are fine. I played a bard who used disguises and shifted her image as her look changed. You don't necessarily need to have separate alias, just change the picture.

"And when you admit that you were misguided, I will forgive you your trespasses against me and mine, for that is the Way of the Righteous. Hatred, revenge, and resentment are the Ways of the Wicked, our enemies. You shall learn this lesson. I have not the slightest doubt."

Karas looked to Avelina with a bit of dismay and stood. He gathered his armor and tunic back into its place as he walked over to the wall again. He sat down out of view of Hokana and drew his knees back to his chest. Am... Am I wicked? Is it so bad to want to avenge you? To see that your killer be put down? Why is that so wrong?

The teifling was lost in memories of her. The good times and lessons. The smiles and laughter rising above the scorn of crusaders around him. The good memories were stricken away as images of her fall crashed in. Tears spilled down his face as he buried it in his arms.

"Don't free her. She needs to stand trial for the crimes she has committed against the other mongrels of Neathhome. If she is proven not guilty at trial, she can be freed then. I trust their decision. If we can't trust her, we can't have her with us. We will be fighting demons in the streets, you know," the paladin says, arms crossed, appraising her foe.

"Ah yes, as justice has served her so well it seems. Let the first cut of your blade be one that removes her shackles. It'll be poetic or something." Franti approached Wendaug. "Actually, we needn't be romantic and spoil my rope. I'll check the other room, then we can return them all to Neathholm. I'm taking my rope back, so if you want her bound, you'll use your own."

Franti sighed, heading to the southern door, checking for anything that seems harmful, but mostly surveying for any objects of importance. Franti wanted out of the caves. He longed for the sunlight. He longed for Opaline.

Perception (Traps): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Disable Device: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

We used Anarya's channel, because it's not consumable.

"I am with Franti. We can trust her - and even if we cannot, we are armed and she is not." Anarya said, helping Franti untie the prisoner. Turning to Ellena, she continued. "I worry we don't have time to wait around for the resolution of a lengthy trial. Remember what's happening in Kenabres, Ellena." Anarya's expression was sorrowful. "Every hour we delay down here, things could be getting worse in the city."

"Are you hungry?" Anarya asked the now-freed mongrelwoman. "I'm going to eat, if you would like to join me."

When the group is ready to heal the mongrels/cultists, Anarya will channel energy: Channel: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 5) = 6 I'll be away all weekend so I'm posting this now in case you guys need a resolution on that before Monday. Once we've done that, we can march the healthier ones back to Neatholm, and carry anyone too wounded to walk.

I don't know what we should do about the human/tiefling.

When Franti looked into the room to the south, the saw that old blood stained the floor of this small cavern. Barrels filled with scraps of fur and fat sat against one wall, emitting a foul stench. These were similar to the barrels used to spill grease in the room above. The two long stone slab tables were covered with skinning tools and piles of freshly butchered meat. Two wooden racks held drying animal skins.

It took some work to get everyone, including the wounded up to the main level. Using ropes and perhaps some kind of makeshift ladder, all the wounded were gathered in the main sleeping quarters of the lair. Anarya channeled energy and all but one revived. The one who was still unconscious but not yet dead would need some more healing.

Unless you want to interrogate any of the other prisoners, we can assume that word can be sent to Neathholm and Mongrel folk can come and transport the wounded prisoners back to secure them until they can decide what their fate will be. Some of the captured mongrel traitors testify that Hosilla executed (murdered) the previous leader (and her lover) of the gang and forced the remaining to be loyal to her or face the same fate. They were even forced to eat the bodies of the slain leader and her lover. The Mongrelmen of Neathholm indicate they will either execute Hosilla and the other non-mongrel members of the gang for these crimes or hold them until crusaders from the city come to take them, assuming they are able to do that.

Decide if you want to rest. It would probably be wise. Wenduag indicates that there are two dretches (demons) stationed in the upper room which has to be negotiated to get up to the surface.

I will indicate what the items of value will sell for to allow you to top off supplies before attempting the trek to the surface. I'll also figure current experience levels.

Current XP is 3000, or about 1/3 of the way to 3rd level.

Gear recovered in Lair
H4
Wenduag's gear
1 potion clw
Wand of Longstrider 10 charges
MWK Chain shirt
MWK Longbow
10 arrows
Obsidian Unholy Symbol of Baphomet worth 20 gp
34 gp

H8
MWK Dagger

H9
Hosilla's gear
Potion CMW
Wand of Spiritual Weapon 6 charges
Tanglefoot bag
chain shirt
MWK Glaive
Antitoxin
Bejeweled book of prayers devoted to Baphomet Worth 50 gp
32 gp

Uziel
short sword
Light Crossbow

I absolutely think we should rest. I'm completely out of spells, and dretches don't screw around.

Avelina's smile only grew as she saw that the mongrelwoman had fallen silent, taking the silence as a sign that Avelina's words had affected her. She gave momentary attention to the dejection of Franti and Karas, wondering at how anyone could act so sad in the face of such complete triumph, but her attention quickly turned back to her fellow Iomedaeans.

"We shall take her with us and handle things at the surface. I could hardly have said it better myself, Anarya!"

That certainly did not stop Avelina from trying.

Knowledge(religion): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Avelina paced back-and-forth, holding her truncheon as a teacher might their ruler. She made sure to keep herself facing the direction of those uninitiated in the Ways of the Inheritor.

"We must remember the Lesson of Honor, the Inheritor's Ninth Act. Iomedae had no illusions that the vampire-mage Basilov would treat with her honorably, but she did not let his wickedness drive her to dishonor. By remaining true, she allowed Basilov to undo himself when he attempted to slay her and her companions."

EDIT: forgot I wanted to add something

On the trek back to Neatholm, Avelina approached Anevia, offering her arm to help the injured woman walk.

"I want you to take heart! Clearly, the Inheritor Herself approved of Irabeth's choice to sell the sword, as She has rewarded her for her devotion by returning it to your hands. For her to have sold such a priceless item, she must have given a mighty gift indeed! To see such great love, it is...extraordinary!"

Avelina began playing with her hair. Her mouth subconsciously shrugged to one side, and her eyes took on a misty, wistful quality. Nobody had ever given Avelina such a gift. She was the Favored Soul of the Inheritor, clearly beloved by the Greatest Woman that Ever Has Been and Ever Will Be. But this humble woman hobbling along on a broken leg who had been crying. And right now, Avelina wished more than anything to be able to cry like she did.

"If only we could all be that lucky." She spoke almost at a whisper. She did not give the words a second thought, thinking them as nothing more than the comforting words of a friend. She didn't realize it yet, and she would not admit it until even later, but it was a confession.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
She's trying to cheer Anevia up, so I figured I should roll something

At Neathholm, Franti looked towards the others, assembling the pile of gear gathered from the cultists, removing the essentials and waiting for everyone to pick through and claim what they want. The rogue wanted little from the stash, and left to take another dip in the underground lake.

He held his breathe for as long as he could, imagining the open sky, the smell of grass, the taste of proper food. He washed away the ashes of his trick from his skin and his hair. He slicked his locks back, put back on his leather chest piece and walked around the village. A thought nagged at him, one that made him feel uncomfortable. Hosilla still had information they had yet to claim, and ignoring it would be foolish. Who knows if the Crusaders above are still alive to claim her.

As he walked, he would see the mongrelman of Neathholm. Every time he saw them he would recall the scene in the bloodstained cavern with the butchered meats and mongrelman parts. He returned to his party, feeling a bit nauseated. "We need to consider the remaining cultists. Wenduag said the glaive-girl knew of the Sword and what is in Drezen. She's the leader, and she knows something we do not." The fool tried to use his scale to turn into a mongrelman, but was surprised to find he couldn't will it to do so. " Also, what's a dretch?

"A dretch? It is a smaller demon. There were some in the attack on the plaza. Still formidable, make no mistake. but definitely one of their lesser kind."

This is just some preparation rolls for later encounters.

Franti thought back, trying to recall the small demons during the invasion. He remembered the woman he helped save. He remembered the fear and the screams. He remembered Ellena and Tauni as the city crumbled. No, he corrected the thought, Rabbit was before that. The fool wasn't sure if what chased him in the Worldwound years back were the same as the foes above Kenabres. "All the Crusaders at the bars spoke of cold iron. If I strike a dretch with a blade of it does it vanish?"

"I don't think they disappear, but I think it makes them mad," Ellena adds, certainly no expert in the area, but having been a veteran of battles against them in the field. "Ive got a pair of cold iron brass knuckles, if someone wants to use sword will probably serve me better right now.". Ellena hadnt quite been able to take her eyes off the blade since she picked it up and glowed to her touch.

We're gonna rest. Anarya's completely out of magic for the day. I'm excited to get to play with the wand of spiritual weapon though!

"My mace is forged of cold iron. Sister Evelynn said that the metal is good for slaying demons," Anarya added. "I'm neither the strongest or the most skilled among our fighters, so perhaps someone will be better suited to wield it than I." She turned to Karas, offering him the heavy mace. "I know you favor your sword, but this might help you in tomorrow's battle."

Franti should be able to make great use of the cold iron knuckles (I don't think they're "brass" knuckles if they're made of cold iron :P), as they're light weapons - I'm assuming you have weapon finesse.

Unchained Rogue gets it for free!

"I think my saps have cold iron within. At least that's what I paid for. But I'll take the knuckles in case I need them." Trying them on, the man gave a few quick punches, a thin smile beginning to form. "These might do..." Franti removed the abacus from his bag, and began sliding the beads across it, estimating the worth of their next haul and trying to figure the split of the gold. A surprised expression began to dawn on him as the final bead slid into place. "As soon as I stop playing for a crowd, the gold begins to pour in. Funny."

Karas had been contemplative on the route back to Neatholm. Once in the city and settled for the night he did a bit of roaming without sword or armor.

He walked through the streets observing these people. People that had lived their entire lives as different as he was but seemed mostly happy in their lots. Avelina's words still rang through him and he played out so many scenarios in his head but if revenge for someone he loved as a mother was wicked then he would be wicked on that day. He thought of home in Old Kenabres, all the days of study and training. Laughs and tears with her and could only come out with more good than bad. He would have to return home once they made it to the surface. There had to be something left.

When he got back to the house they were staying in, he had returned mostly from sullen to normal.

Discussion of the gear came up again and he chimed in. "I think I used one of the potions I had. Another to replace it would be nice but I don't think I need anything else."

When Anarya offered the mace of her instructor to him he looked at it a moment before responding and blushing slightly, "I um... I can use it yes. Terendelev taught me how to use most weapons and armors." he reached out and accepted the weapon from her, "Are you sure you wouldn't want to use your mentor's weapon?"

Anarya smiled at Karas, looking up at the much-taller tiefling. "I trust you to take good care of it," she said, pressing the weapon into his hands. "I'll be using my magic more than a weapon, anyway." She felt confident that tomorrow, the demons would stand no chance against the forces of good. "It feels right that you should use it. I feel safe knowing you're protecting all of us."

Avelina wondered what could possibly be concerning Karas so much.

Sense Motive: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6

Clearly, he was beginning to realize his feelings for Anarya, as the Inheritor had told Avelina he would.

As Avelina gazed on at the two in conversation, she suddenly saw Anarya gazing up with moist eyes at the suddenly dashing and slightly androgynous Karas. She saw the aasimar girl fall into the tiefling's arms. When Anarya spoke, Avelina heard the words just as she said them. Well, mostly.

"It feels right...that you should hold me. I feel safe knowing...you're protecting me."

Avelina sighed as she suddenly found herself in reality once more. Karas was as muscular and dissappointingly manly as ever, and Anarya had not fallen into his arms with doe eyes. Avelina began idly patting herself down in search of a notebook, becoming more desperate as she realized she didn't have it. She had a notebook for times like this, but she had apparently left it back in her room in Nerosyan.

"Oh, bother! I need something to write in. And with. I--"

She glanced about as she realized that her companions were staring. Her face was as red as her mantlet.

"--uh...must write down some very, very, completely very, religious thoughts about the Inheritor. For a later sermon! A supremely chaste and non-romantic sermon."

Franti took his own journal from his bag, along with his ink and pen. "Don't read the entries I wrote, but there are blank pages for you if you need them. If you want it private, you best rip out the page afterward." He held out the book full of unfinished jokes, attempts at poems and songs, and undelivered letters, waiting for Avelina to take it. She is going to fill all my pages with the Acts of Iomedae. I'm going to have to buy a new journal...

Avelina's all good to go whenever everyone else is. Just screwing around right now :)

Avelina threw her arms around Franti and hugged him.

"Oh, how kind of you! I shall repay you with a hundred journals when we return to the surface!"

She grabbed the journal from Franti's hands then immediately began writing a torrid scene from a romance novel. She doesn't make any particular effort to hide what she's doing, and her perception is terrble, so she probably wouldn't notice anyway if someone peeks :)

She takes 10 on her Craft (fanfiction) check for 11

Knowing better to draw upon the cliche "stable in a rainstorm," Avelina had the lovers Sarak and Ayrana instead find themselves driven underground, on the run from the Evil Forces of the Demon Cultists. They find a moment's reprieve in a forgotten chapel to The Inheritor, where they await their rescue by Avelyn, the Righteous Queen and Herald of Iomedae, along with her army of beautiful paladin women.

Reaching a bit of writer's block, Avelina decided to take a break and began doodling.

She takes 10 on her Craft (drawing) check for 11

She draws some cartoony figures that appear to represent her being carried off by Iomedae on horseback and Iomedae protecting Avelina in her Divine Radiance as the Goddess strikes the final blow against some large minotaur demon. Her crude style makes the details hard to figure out, but she kindly labels everything for herself, such as the lines coming off Iomedae as "RADIANCE," the pool of liquid at the demon's feet is "BLOOD," and the minotaur demon himself is labeled "BAPHOMET." Iomedae has an asterisk that points to a footnote that says "The Most Beautiful, Valorous, Glorious, and Beauteous Goddess of Beauty in the World, Iomedae."

Karas hefted the mace and looked back to Anarya. The angels gentle smile and soft glow. A vision of beauty and kindness next to his brutality. He hesitated a moment but gave a smile back despite the rose tint shading his cheeks. Wicked or not I will protect her.

"I um, yes. I will do my best. Thank you."

As Avelina begins to fill his journal with material far funnier than any of his own jokes, Franti leaves for the market, carrying weapons and armor to be sold in his bag. He walks to the same merchant as before, presenting each item and sliding his abacus to count the gold. He didn't attempt to sell his items high, joke with, or haggle with the merchant. "Sixty five platinum coins, six gold coins, five silvers."

He looked around the small village attempting to find any goods that might help him out in their final trial. He thought about how a dretch would fight, how easily it could tear through his armor, how his bow-armed savior wasn't around to save him this time. Franti had to stop for a moment to collect himself. The others will look after me. They are bigger, they have spells. All I need to do is survive.

Franti distributed the gold (121.75g each) after using the abacus once more to determine an equal split. He contemplated trying his hand at making an old alchemical favorite of his while the others rested. In the very least, it would provide a distraction.

Leaving Anevia, Horgus, and Aravashnial to guard the captives, the other six trudged back through the tunnels to Neathholm. They were welcomed by a couple of Mongrelmen who had been stationed near the tunnel exit to be on watch for the party or other troubles. They were happy to learn the Lair of the Vile and Vicious was captured and escorted you across the lake and to Chief Sul. Sul clapped his hands and did a little dance before dispatching a detail of 20 residents to accompany the group back to the lair to help transport the prisoners. Others were sent into the village to arrange for a place to hold the prisoners. The healer was notified to gather healing supplies and wait for the prisoners arrival. The chief promised the prisoners would receive a fair trial and just punishment if found guilty.

The mood of the mongrel folk who helped with the transport was notably higher than before. When Franti showed the items for sale, he was surprised to find that they offered to buy the items as if they were brand new rather than used. Use listed price for items, rather than the usual 50% markdown.

By the time Franti rejoined the group, he found them near a dilapidated old stone house that looked uninhabited. Chief Sul explained it was an old house that needed some work but that it was stable enough to hold the prisoners. The door was opened and some mongrels went in first and to do some straightening up, checking that there were no vermin lurking in the dark places. One of them returned and called out, "Chief Sul, come quickly. We found something. It must have been the tremors. Come look!"

Chief Sul followed the man back into the house and gestured that the crusaders were to follow. Others from the village followed and tried to peer over the shoulders of everyone ahead to see what had been found. Continued in next post. Do not post anything in response yet.

In a back room that looked as if it might have served as a pantry, there was a hole in the floor. A couple of mongrel folk were peering down into the hole. The chief looked down as well. He grunted in surprise and smiled at the crusaders. "Come look."

As the crusaders move cautiously to the edge of the hole and shine their lights into the hole, they are greeted with a rather unimpressive arrangement of six bundles of faded cloth.

The chief explained, "I believe this might be a cache of weapons and armor left by our original ancestors. They hid some of their most valuable items until such time as they were needed again in the fight against the Worldwound incursion. But over time, they were not needed and the secret hiding place was forgotten about as those who knew of it passed on. Lann, Dyra, retrieve these bundles that we might see if I am right. Perhaps they are just old bags of garbage."

The two mongrels whom the party rescued from the rubble of the fallen guard tower put a ladder down into the hole and one by one brought up the bundles. When all six had been brought up, the chief opened one bag which was shaped like a large disk. From the old burlap sack came a gleaming silver shield with a holy symbol of Iomedae on it. It was a small metal shield about the same size as Ellena's but when it was given to her to inspect, the symbol on it began to glow with the light of a torch. She found she was able to turn the light off with a thought. It felt lighter than her shield.

The next bundle weighed about 30 pounds and made faint clinking sounds as it was opened to reveal a suit of scale mail armor. The scales looked like those of a dragon and glinted bright silver without a hint of tarnish, despite being at least a century old. Sul held it up near Karas, who wore similar armor. The suit looked too small but Sul suggested he try the armor on anyway. When Karas removed his armor and wrapped the gleaming scales to his chest, the armor expanded and grew until he could put it on. It was a perfect fit, although evidently it would fit just about anyone just as well, such was it's enchantment.

The next bundle was smaller, containing a vestment with a holy symbol of Iomedae on it. It did not appear to be anything special or magical, but attached to the belt was a sheath containing a wand with a wavy shape, like a serpent's as it slithered along. Also on the belt was a pouch of spell components such as a wizard or sorcerer might employ.

The next was a leather satchel that contained a book and a pouch with a beautiful pearl in it. A quick glance at the pages of the book revealed it was a wizard's spell book.

Then came a bag contained a number of articles of clothing, plus a masterwork set of thieve's tools. The clothing was a shirt, a pair of soft leather boots, a belt, a cloak, and four sets of fabric tubes that seemed to be meant to be put over one's arms.

The last was a backpack with five containers of holy water, a book of prayers to Iomedae, a wand, and an odd looking patch of leather shaped like a shield meant, apparently, to be worn around the neck.

Chief Sul says, "These items were obviously meant by the gods to go to our six crusaders. We would be happy to have you take these items back to the surface to aid in the fight against the demonic invasion, as our ancestors intended. We will await word that we may follow and join the fight ourselves."

I'm out of time for now. I'll post later tonight to reveal what detect magic and spellcraft checks reveal about the items.

Franti looked at the gear, struck with surprise. He counted the symbols of Iomedae and let out an awed murmur. "Even neath the earth Her radiance reaches us..." Franti glanced to the worshippers of Iomedae, feeling mixed with reverence and envy. Chosen by Gods and Mongrels alike. The armor matches Karas, and spells for Rabbit. Franti gravitated to the most mundane of the bags, unmarked by the arcane or divine. Six bags for six crusaders... he thought, but who is the sixth?

Franti pondered as he dropped to his knees, inspecting the garbs and tools. The sixth.... Horgus has grown brave these last few days, perhaps it is for him. Or Aravashnial, he is already one with the Crusaders. Or Anevia, already married to a virtuous warrior. The fool gets to his feet, looking at his party. Even in his current mood, he couldn't suppress a smile. "Armasse's gifts came a bit late, but boy do they deliver. "

Anarya marveled at the armory that had been uncovered. "Chief... I think you must be right. Whoever left these here years ago must have had no idea of their ultimate fate, but a higher purpose guided their hands." She immediately felt drawn to the backpack. She flipped through a few pages of the prayer book, reading its contents. She smiled at a familiar passage. Examining the wand and the strange necklace with her magical sight, she tried to determine their powers.

Looking up at the others examining their gifts, she noticed Franti hadn't picked up his yet. Hefting the bag, she carried it over to the young man, so different looking without his colorful makeup. "Here's yours, Franti," she said with a smile, holding it out to him. "I want to know what Picoperi left for our holy Fool!"

Karas inspected the gleaming scales. At first he was almost sure that they were truly the scales of a dragon but looking closer, the finely crafted metal scales were a true work of art.

He looked around as the others opened their divine gifts and couldn't help but notice the tailoring to each person. These items couldnt be here by chance. It was just bizarre.

He again noticed Anarya looking him over and couldn't help but blush and look away again.