DM Papa.DRB - Wrath of the Righteous - Try 1 (Inactive)

Game Master Papa-DRB

Growing up in a family obsessed with destroying the demons, Fie has an intense hatred for the creatures. Her birthplace is now little more than a field of rock. Despite this fanatacism, Fie has had a rocky relationship with the Order her family has traditionally joined—The Order of the Emerald Sword. Despite being but a child during the third Crusades, she remembers the sounds of innocent men and women screaming after being declared heretics. It was these actions that drove her from the traditional faiths for a time. However, a few years ago her brother converted her to the worship of Desna. The ideals of freedom and travel resonate greatly with her as she strives to free the world of the demonic taint or, at the very least, maintain the borders that have been won thus far.

The Order of the Emerald Sword has its foundations in Kenabres so Fie and her family have made it their home for a long while. Her family's greatest claim to fame was her brother's rescue at the hands of Yaniel herself.

Its Armasse! I'm participating in the spell duels this year, you know! Are you a jouster? Are you going to take part in the baking contest? You look funny! Do you like my goggles? Her questions seem oriented at random individuals, each one picking out a new person who makes the unfortunate decision to meet her eyes.

Aranthis sets down her pack and pulls out a bundle containing two curved blades in their scabbards. ”It may sound a bit odd, but I dreamt that if I journeyed here I would be given the inspiration and insight necessary to craft a pair of blades whose legend would outlive me.” Pulling one of the blades from a scabbard, she adds ”These may be a pale imitation of the blades I saw in my dream, but I completed these with my own two hands as a first step. I know that if I’m patient, and Torag sees fit, I’ll have an opportunity to do something truly great, and perhaps my family’s name will be known outside Restov generations from now.”

She looks up lost in thought for a moment. ”But I’m rambling. What brings you here, if I might ask?”

”Besides, the tournament is not that important, mind you. We've got plenty of things to study during the holy day, and scholars from all around the world come here to take a piss at the Worldwound border. I mean, every year there's a whole new bunch of things to be learned! How can you ignore that? And I've seen many interesting things, so many that I've perfected the use of some spells, which aid me greatly when enemies charge against the walls. Even my bow has gotten better. I can feel it getting stronger as I do." He pauses for a while, his eyes out of focus, gazing the void.

"What? Yes, I've been on the watch for a while now, hmm, about eleven years, I believe. I grew up here, as my parents came here even before this Worldwound showed up. Sometimes I wonder if that's destiny or just a prank from them, you know, having me growing up beside such a dangerous place. I don't remember them very well, since I grew up with my aunt, Helena. You might know her, she's one of the old ones. Oh, you're not local? Good for you! Anyway, I've tried to get all the info I could from her, but all she knows is that they left when I was still a child, for some important reason even she did not know. Valuable, she calls them . At least that's what she tells me. Thing is, some decades ago suddenly a rune showed up on my right hand."
He shows it to you, a weird looking Birthmark, that you would not call a "rune". "There's something about this I need to find out, I can feel it." You realize there's more to it, but he is avoiding to tell it. You probably shouldn't push it, since you just met the man. "And that's most of what there is to know about me. A long and wonderful life, that some would call boring, but I'm still pretty young for the Elves standard. When I'm ready, I'll see what more I can do."

"What do you mean by 'why'? The Worldwound is the most dangerous place in the world! Devils and Demons pop from it like bugs from rotting meat. This is the place where you find the most virtuous people in the world, defending people that usually don't even know it. Once you realize that, you change. You cannot ignore the facts, the imminent danger, the need for new warriors. You feel ashamed for not doing the best you could, for not being stronger, for not being a god. You want to help more, to slay more demons, to save more comrades, to be able to drive away the fear from deep inside the children's hearth. All the rest is secondary towards the Worldwound. I'm one on the defenses, and I want to get stronger, to help protect the realm of men. Why, don't feel like joining in?" He gives you a disdainful look, as if he was not really interested in answer of the following question. "So, what brings you to Kenabres?"

DEFENSE
AC 14, touch 14, flat-footed 10 (+4dex)
hp 7 (1HD)
Fort +0, Ref +4, Will +2, +2 vs. enchantment spells and effects
+2 Trait bonus on all concentration checks

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft. (6 squares)
Ranged Masterwork longbow +5 (1d8/x3) , within 30 ft. +6 (1d8+1)
Melee Longsword+2 (1d8+2/19-20)
Face 5 ft. Reach 5 ft.
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 16
Special Actions: Telekinetic Fist 1d4+0,
Spellbook (Wizard's): 1st - enlarge person (DC 14) , gravity bow (DC ) , mage armor (DC 14) , magic missile , shocking grasp , sleep (DC 14) ; 0th - All
Prepared Spells Prepared Spell List - Wizard (CL 1st):
1st - enlarge person (DC 14) , gravity bow (DC ) , sleep (DC 14)
0th - dancing lights , detect magic , message

STATISTICS
Abilities Str 14, Dex 18(17+1T), Con 11, Int 17, Wis 10, Cha 8
Special Qualities Arcane Bond, Bonded Object, Cantrips, Divination Opposition School, Elven Immunities, Elven Magic, Illusion Opposition School, Keen Senses, Low-Light Vision, Physical Enhancement, Transmutation School, Weapon Familiarity,
Feats: Point-Blank Shot, Scribe Scroll
Traits: Seeker; Riftwarden Orphan
Skills Acrobatics +4, Appraise +3, Bluff -1, Climb +2, Craft (Untrained) +3, Diplomacy -1, Disguise -1, Escape Artist +4, Fly +4, Intimidate -1, Knowledge (Arcana) +7, Knowledge (History) +7, Knowledge (Local) +7, Perception +7, Perform (Untrained) -1, Ride +4, Spellcraft +7, Spellcraft (Identify magic item) +9, Stealth +4, Swim +2,
Possessions: explorer's outfit; spellbook (wizard's); Masterwork Longbow;

MAGIC
Arcane Bond (Su): You have selected to establish a powerful arcane bond with an object.
Bonded Object: Masterwork Longbow - Objects that are the subject of an arcane bond must fall into one of the following categories: amulet, ring, staff, wand, or weapon. These objects are always masterwork quality. Weapons acquired at 1st level are not made of any special material. If the object is an amulet or ring, it must be worn to have effect, while staves, wands, and weapons must be wielded. When attempting to cast a spell without your bonded object worn or in hand, you must make a concentration check or lose the spell (DC 20 + the spell's level). A ring or amulet occupies the ring or neck slot accordingly.
Cantrips: You can prepare a number of cantrips, or 0-level spells, each day. These spells are cast like any other spell, but they are not expended when cast and may be used again. You can prepare a cantrip from a prohibited school, but it uses up two of your available slots.
Transmutation School: You have chosen to specialize in transmutation spells.
Opposition Schools: Divination and Illusion - You have chosen divination and illusion as opposition schools. Preparing a divination or illusion spell takes up two spell slots of the same level. You take a -4 penalty on any skill checks made when crafting a magic item that has one of these spells as a prerequisite.
Elven Magic (Ex): Elves receive a +2 racial bonus on caster level checks made to overcome spell resistance. In addition, elves receive a +2 racial bonus on Spellcraft skill checks made to identify the properties of magic items.
Trait - Riftwarden Orphan: You gain a +2 trait bonus on all concentration checks.
Elven Immunities (Ex) : Elves are immune to magic sleep effects and get a +2 racial saving throw bonus against enchantment spells and effects.

SPECIAL ABILITIES
Keen Senses (Ex) : Elves receive a +2 bonus on Perception skill checks.
Low-Light Vision (Ex) : You can see 2x as far as humans in low illumination. Characters with low-light vision have eyes that are so sensitive to light that they can see twice as far as normal in dim light. Low-light vision is color vision. A spellcaster with low-light vision can read a scroll as long as even the tiniest candle flame is next to her as a source of light. Characters with low-light vision can see outdoors on a moonlit night as well as they can during the day.
Physical Enhancement (Su): You gain a +1 enhancement bonus to one physical ability score (Strength, Dexterity, or Constitution). You can change this bonus to a new ability score when you prepare spells.
Telekinetic Fist (Sp) : As a standard action you can strike with a telekinetic fist, targeting any foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack., The telekinetic fist deals 1d4 points of bludgeoning damage., You can use this ability 6 times per day.
Weapon Familiarity (Ex): Elves are proficient with longbows (including composite longbows), longswords, rapiers, and shortbows (including composite shortbows), and treat any weapon with the word "elven" in its name as a martial weapon.

Always small for his age he nevertheless took to martial training intending to make a living as a mercenary. But he caught religion from a Priest of Aroden, Aldma Schoss, who came to tend the orphans during a bout of Coppertongue Fever. The father gave him a copy of Aroden's holy text, The History and Future of Humanity, and he thumbed through its pages thousands of times, imagining himself a part of something vast and glorious. As the years passed he gained his height, but still appeared much younger than others his age.

At twenty he set out as a caravan guard, but found himself called to aide a small hamlet on their path being beset by raiders - against the caravan's owners wishes. As he battled the bandits leader, Rigthor Brung, a bear of a man who had him outmatched in both power and experience, he found a moment of sudden calm amidst his panic and felt the blessings of Aroden lend him the strength to smite the bandit. So called he presented himself to the Church of Aroden's heart in Cheliax and was acknowledged as a Paladin.

Life was hard, but rewarding as a sword of The Last Azlanti, and for thirty seven years he served, helping those in need, smiting the wicked, and furthering the expansion of the Chelaxian Empire - humanities brightest light. Then in an instant it was all gone.

The Starfall Doctrine foretold that in 4606 AR Aroden would lead the human race to a thousand years of wonder and prosperity, The Age of Glory, and take the Chelaxian throne. Instead Garroth found his connection to his god severed, and the Empire he had so loved descended into darkness and diabolism.

Broken and bereft he journeyed back to his home and began to train men suddenly eager to learn skill at arms with The Worldwound consuming nearby Sarkoris. Here he first realized that his strange abilities, his youthfulness, the fact that his eyes could pierce the darkness, etc., were not the blessings of Aroden, but a curse. He began to drink heavily, earning the disapproval of the orphanage's staff, for Cayden Cailean celebrated drinking for pleasure not maudlin self pity.

Then from nowhere he me a woman Celiese, a baker's daughter, plain, but with a laugh and smile that could warm the coldest heart. Bringing bread for the children each day Celiese courted the moody, but handsome Garroth with patient sincerity and they were married in 4620 AR.

Swept up in the 1st Mendevian Crusade, where Garroth lead a company of the Militia he had trained, and were amongst the founders of the Fortress City of Drezen. There they raised a family, five boys, and one girl. Though they were happy for the most part, Celiese begged Garroth to move to safer lands with his family, but he felt his duty was in Drezen and was beginning to feel a growing connection with Iomedae, the goddess who had inherited his Lord Aroden's mantle.

In 4638 AR Garroth Cailean's beautiful family were caught in the wave of chaotic energies that overwhelmed Drezen and transformed before his eyes into slavering bestial monsters. Garroth's curse protected him, it saved him so he could watch his sons tear his wife to shreds and devour her, so that he could stab his beloved daughter in the heart as she tried to claw out his throat. It saved him so he could know the very depths of despair.

Seventy five years have passed, since he fled Drezen in the chaos. Decades of misery and drunken impotence. Part of Garroth longed to die, to be with his family, but every time he tried to summon the courage to end his life he saw their twisted faces. How could he end his life when his sons were still trapped out there as monsters? Did their souls writhe within those hideous shells, did they know what they had become? But it was hopeless, one man could never hope to strike into the heart of The Worldwound, so he sank into bottle after bottle to numb the pain...

Then she came to him, bright as the sun in gleaming armor, and she told him that she would grant him a chance. The time for wallowing was done, it was time to stand to take up the sword and to reclaim his honor. The Lady of Valor offered to restore his mantle of old. He awoke to rumours of a 5th Crusade, and rekindled purpose.

Now shriven, and determined Garroth Cailean means to free his lost sons, and drive the demons back into the Abyss.

He is also middleaged and has the -1 to physical stats and +1 to mental stats incorporated into his ability scores.

Alase accepted young Kart as an apprentice at the age of twelve, and he moved to live with her in her farmstead. He worked the next seven years with her, learning the ways of farming in the harsh lands polluted by the taint of demons, even as he stretched his mind with the details of Sarkoris' druidic gods. He learned of Ragathiel (to be prayed to for aid in vengeance), Pharasma (to be prayed to for the bravery to face fate and to help in healing), Kelemind the god of the Witchknife Tribe (to be prayed to for honor in battle and patience for friends), Priayala the goddess of the village (to be prayed to for good crops and understanding from and for your neighbors), Vorleshaitan his family god (to be prayed to for inner character and the safety of ones family), and a dozen dozen more. These years were happy for Kart, exercising body with hard farming, and exercising the mind with the lessons of what it meant to be a God-Caller.

Unfortunately, Kart soon learned that while rote memorization came easy, he had difficulty with the spirits. He envied Alase her mighty wolf god Tombarse, The Wolf That Shone Like Stars, a family god who she called every morning and who was her constant companion. Kart's attempts at calling a god to serve him were all failures, and his frustration mounted in his later teen years, particularly when a younger trainee named Roga was taken in, and called upon the god of the river to serve him within his first year. Kart longed for his own spirit companion, though he would have settled merely for performing the miracles that were also outside of his skills, though he knew every movement and word of the rituals by heart.

At the age of seventeen, soon after Roga, four years younger, had earned his river spirit, Kart was hunting near the farm stead when he spotted a dretch. Young and full of teenaged confidence in his immortality, Kart attacked it, sure that his moment had come. Surely if he could help fight his ancestral enemy his powers would come to him. The dretch, barely injured, encased Kart in his stinking cloud, and would have killed him if not for the timely arrival of Roga and Alase with their companions. Kart, affected far more than most were by the cloud, remained plagued with sickness for months, though none of his sickness could match the shame he felt at being overpowered by even the weakest of the demonic horde. The taint of the poisonous cloud left his body more hale and hearty after the sickness finally passed, a fact which seemed to trouble his mentor.

Soon Kart grew frustrated at his failures. His brush with death had made him stronger, and he felt that only by facing the demons that held his homeland in truth could he prove to the Gods he was worthy of their miracles and gain a god of his own. Kart left at the age of nineteen, in the night, bound for the cities of the Crusades, to join them and find his own path.

Kart learned quickly that while his name was considered a fairly common one in Sarkoris, outside of the old ways most associated him with Areelu Vorlesh, a legendary witch who was said to have opened the Worldwound itself. The young man was treated with scorn and distrust, and his beliefs, so accepted in his village, were in these more civilized lands considered foolish or even heretical. Kart grew to hate Areelu Vorlesh as a symbol of all he stood against, the witch sharing his name who made the world hate the Sarkoran people (and himself) so much. Arriving in Kenabres soon after his 20th Nameday, Kart found that joining the Crusades was to be a difficult prospect, between his name and his beliefs. Blocked by beareacracy and hostility, though no outright discrimination he could point to, Kart has set his feet with all his might, bought a simple room within the city and waited, hassling recruitment officials every day to ensure that at one point his paperwork won't be "lost". Kart is heady with the confidence of the young and has promised himself. He will be a Crusader, He will fight the creatures that destroyed and despoiled his homeland, He will bring respect back to his family and his people. No one will stop him.

As Saolin grew up he was indoctrinated in the ways of the Church of Iomedae including that of the sword and shield and his connection with Iomedae became particularly strong. Strong enough that his skill with a sword let him cleave through objects with such grace that some would claim his sword was blessed by the goddess herself. His large frame and height gave him an advantage over most others and his appearance inspired awe in many.

Living in the city of Kenabres and being raised by the priests of Iomedae, Saolin was practically bred for becoming a part of the Mendevian Crusades and Saolin knew it. As the years progressed he strived to be ready for the day he would be called to fight against the demons of the Worldwound, spending hours a day studying the history of demons and the like, to the detriment of almost all other knowledge. Eventually he exhausted as much of the library of the church as he could and moved on to talking to those who had fought demons before until he believed his knowledge of the creatures to be sound.

Saolin eventually signed up for guarding the gates of Kenabres and his skill at determining those who were potential threats became well known and he was rapidly promoted through the ranks. One day he was making his rounds and visiting each gate but as he approached the south gate he felt a sense of forboding coming from those recently admitted into the city. As he scanned the crowd he honed in on the tingling in the back of his mind until he locked onto a large, hooded figure in the middle of the crowd. Saolin called out, asking for the figure to stop but was knocked off his horse as the figure threw back it's cloak and let out an unearthly roar, tearing about it at the screaming civilians. Saolin froze, faced with his first glimpse of a demon all his training and knowledge fled him and he simply watched as it tore another person to shreds. The sounds of shouted commands and running feet reached his ears and he turned to see an Imoedae patrol rushing towards the scene. The sight of his brethren in arms finally stirred Saolin to action and he climbed to his feet as he readied his weapons, pushing forwards with the rest of the patrol as they contained and attacked the demon.

After the fight Saolin spent hours in prayer in the church and vowed to himself to never be caught unprepared again, leaving the Church with a new sense of purpose.

Saolin removes his helmet with a sigh as the top half of the dummy settles to the ground with a crash. "Why can't they make these things sturdier?" he asks to no one in particular. Slowly the sounds of festivities filter through the church grounds and into the training area where Saolin stands. A grin spreads across his face "Ah yes, holy Armasse day is today. I wonder who will sparr with me this year?" Saolin washes his face and changes out of his full armor into simple chainmail with the Iomadae crest on the front, belts his longsword to his side and straps his shield with the same crest as his chainmail onto his back before walking out into the streets.

Saolin takes in the sights of the city in full splendor, the one time of the year in which Kenabres is a joyful city. With his grin spreading wider, the tall Aasimar makes his way into the heart of the festivities.

"Be at peace..." he calms those anxious faces around him. "I am a servant of the Inheritor and Kenabres. Quinn Prable, known amongst the guard as Quinn 'Inktooth', at your service."

He tried to speak, but the words choked in his throat. He felt like he had swallowed ground shards of glass. His shoulders and wrists burned, and the slightest movement sent lances of pain shooting through his back. He realized after a moment that he was hanging… manacled to the wall and suspended by chains. His eyes were clotted shut. With an effort he forced them open. The light was more painful than hanging.

“Wherrrre…?” he hissed hoarsely. He felt, more than heard, the sudden attention of the others in the room. There were sudden whispers and murmurs all around him… too many to decipher.

“What did you say?” came a hard voice from his right.

Quinn tried to ask again, but his corporeal needs overruled his consciousness and the word came out, “Waterrrrr…” After another eternity of pain, the nozzled end of a waterskin was pressed against his lips. He took his first drink of water in a rush and immediately gagged and retched, blazing pain went through his body as he thrashed in his chains.

A heavy door opened and another voice overwhelmed the others. “What has happened?”

“He’s awake again,” the first voice responded. “He asked for water.”

“Give him some,” the second voice demanded. The nozzle was again pressed against his mouth. “Drink slowly,” the voice insisted. Quinn took a few slow, careful sips and felt his throat begin to loosen. After a few more sips the skin was withdrawn. “What is your name?”

“Quinn.” He could not think of any reason to lie. But, even though it was true, it seemed wrong somehow. He had no name in the haze.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No,” he breathed. He did not know what they wanted from him, but he had no strength to resist an interrogation.

“Do you know where you live?”

In the haze… was the answer. But, when his mouth opened, “Kenabres” spilled out. He frowned. That was true and wrong as well. Suddenly, the haze was gone… burned from his mind by the light, as the morning sun burns the fog off of the meadows… His pain became something real and immediate. He whimpered as he hung limp in his chains. “Where am I? What has happened to me?”

There was silence for a long moment. “You are in the temple at Kenabres, the catacombs to be precise. We have held you here for nearly four weeks. Do you remember the fight in which you were wounded?”

The temple. Kenabres. The fight. Four weeks!? “No… no… I don’t remember.” But, that was not true. Bits and pieces of the past began to pierce the darkness in his memory. A cultist and his familiar. The sergeant and his fellow soldiers. The battle was quick, the traitor brought low. He was wounded, but not seriously. Then… the haze… he squirmed. Something insidious longed for the haze. Something deep inside of him. He fought back. The pain helped clear his mind.

“There was some kind of demon. Something we’ve never seen before,” the second voice stated. “It poisoned you with its own blood. The reaction was… terrible.” The blurriness was clearing. His sergeant stood before him, some soldiers and acolytes, as well as a temple priest. The cleric continued speaking. “We could not remove the poison. We couldn’t even slow it down. You’ve been in and out of consciousness. Do you remember anything?”

Only the haze… “Only the nightmares.”

“I’m not surprised. You should know… the demon-blood had some dramatic effects-” the sergeant grabbed the cleric and spun him away. There was a quick and vicious whispered argument, but the priest waved him off. “He needs to know! Quinn, we’re not sure that you are still entirely human…”

Trey was born many years before Abigail, but the presence of a child touched by celestial origins was dangerous for the Merosa family.

The family was forced to flee Kenabres and they headed south. They were marked beings, an attraction to the demons of the Worldwound.

They were unable to escape the pursuit of the demons. It was as if someone or something was tracking them.

They eventually reached Thornstep in Razmiran. Once there Trey was given to an Orphanage to be cared for. It would seem that this act abated the demon pursuit for a bit. What became of Trey can be found here , as she ended up in an Orphanage in Korvosa.

--- Fast forward a few years ---

Abigail was born just outside the small town of Willip in fertile farmlands of Numeria, to the name of Abigail Merosa, Daughter of Jonathon and Krista Merosa. Abigail and her family never truly called anyplace home since they traveled quite frequently. Jonathon was a well-known salesman among the locals, frequently providing healing salves and ointments to many people at a price that anyone could afford. "People are always more important than Profit" He would always say. Except for not having a steady home Abigail was as happy as any girl could be. She loved her parents as much as girl could.

When Abigail was only 12, raiders attacked her family and took all three prisoner. They were sold to slavers and split up among different buyers. Abigail was a servant for an abusive noble family that wanted to keep their slave trade a secret living on a plantation about 10 miles north of Kenabres. Jonathon ended up in the heart of the Worldwound, as was Krista. What happened during their time away is unknown to Abigail.

Abigail worked hard for her master, Lord Falis, but despite her horrid living conditions and continuous beatings at the cruel hand of the work master, Abigail always had hope and faith. Each night she would pray an angel would come and take her away. Little did she know that Sarenrae was listening to her.

Abigail had a good heart; she never believed that she had a pure heart. Perhaps her innocence kept it pure or perhaps it was by the design of the gods, no mortal will ever know for sure. After 2 years Sarenrae answered her prayers but not directly.

An unnatural wind drove a ship toward Thornstep arriving there at just the right time to intercept a slave trader leaving port. Now this misguided ship had among her crew a band of adventurers, one of which recognized the slaver's ship and a battle soon followed. Taking the slave master prisoner the group learned of other being held captive and their mission became clear. These adventurers saved Jonathon and Krista from the torments they were enduring, which lead these adventurers back to Kenabres to free Abigail. Could it be coincidence? Or did the gods have some influence in the course of events? That is uncertain but the fact remains that this group of heroes freed Abigail and her family. But freedom did not come without a price. Krista died on the ship during childbirth, and the child? He is the bastard brother of Abigail; Krista was raped and beaten numerous times in her captivity this child was the result of those devices.

As pure as Abigail's heart was; her brother's was black and vile. With the blood of murderers, slavers, and demon warlords coursing through his veins it could be said that the balance was maintained.

One among the adventurers sensed the evil in the child and tossed it overboard. But a dark, demonic force brought deliverance to the child.

What happened to the child is unknown to Abigail but when the time is right she will know.

The adventurers arrived after many months of travel to the plantation where Abigail was enslaved. But what they thought to be an easy victory over some stuffy noble turned into an Epic battle. For Lord Falis was a demonic servant of great power, he was able to bring many demons to bear upon the heroes. Jonathon sought out Abigail while the battle raged on covering the entire plantation. Many minions of the "hells" that escaped the fury of the adventurers were moving among the slaves slaughtering them in a seemingly systematic genocide. Jonathon's failing health from age got the better of him and he was unable to escape the swath of Lemures that raged unchecked among the slaves. Abigail screamed to her father but he lay unmoving in a pool of blood. Abigail ran to her father's side. There she was seeing the life ebb from him. Abigail prayed to the angels and soon she felt the power of Sarenrae course through her and her father. She now believed that the angels of her dreams were real; the angel had a name, Sarenrae.

The angels did not grant life back to her father but instead took his life force and gave it to Abigail infusing her with power she never realized. Grabbing the spear her father was carrying she turned to face the creatures approaching. Then with an angelic fury she began to turn the battle to her favor, fighting with the strength of the heavens.

Abigail collapsed after the battle was over. When she awoke there was a new wisdom in her eyes. She asked for her father, for surely the angels would have given him back to her. But it was not to be. His soul was now a part of her forever. The adventurers told Abigail all that occurred on the journey. Now her father gone and her mother dead she had to move on. She carries with her the soul of her father and the heart of her mother. The pain brought on by the events of that battle Abigail vowed to try and to never take the life of an innocent.

Abigail took on the craft her father had before but now with a new meaning. With Sarenrae's light shining within her, she will give aid to those needing it. Sarenrae will provide her with the means to live. Her help will be free to help end the suffering of innocents and stop the influence of demonic powers in the world. Seek to find a sign of hope in a land of evil and be aware of the evil in the hearts of even the best of paladins.

Abigail's journeys, whether by chance or by fate have brought her to Kenabres; the place where it all started many years before she was even born.

Abigail had unknowingly cast Death Knell on her father killing him and giving her more strength. She also was blessed with the following spells for the combat: Bless, Bull strength, Protection from evil, Magic weapon, magic circle against chaos, magic vestment, Divine favor, resistance, protection from elements (fire), and weapon (+1 holy short spear). She has felt the angel's power in this sequence of events and has been forever enriched by them. This was a one time event that was a result of being touched divinely.

The effect of what happened grants her the touched by divinity campaign trait.

Abigail will be either a cleric or an oracle (life) haven't decided which (if an oracle then seems most likely the haunted curse might apply).

Also Abigail is Aasimar and will most likely be utilizing channel feats as well as the angelic blood line of feats.

As mentioned the Touched by divinity trait and probably the sacred Conduit trait.

Traits: sacred conduit, touched by divinity (Cure Light Wounds)

Skills
Diplomacy +9
Heal +9
Perception +5
Sense Motive +7

Racial Modifiers +2 Diplomacy, +2 Perception

Languages Celestial, Common, Elven

SQ aura, domains (glory, healing), rebuke death, spontaneous casting, touch of glory, variant channeling (disease variant channeling [±1 sacred])
Gear: Antitoxin, Healer's kit, Leather armor, Shortspear, Backpack, masterwork (7 @ 11 lbs), Bedroll, Belt pouch (10 @ 0 lbs), Holy symbol (silver), Scroll case (empty), Spell component pouch, Tindertwig (10), Trail rations (5), Waterskin, 58 GP, 4 SP
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TRACKED RESOURCES
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Antitoxin - 0/1
Cleric Channel Positive Energy 1d6 (6/day) (DC 16) (Su) - 0/6
Daylight (1/day) (Sp) - 0/1
Healer's kit (10/10 uses remaining) - 0/10
Rebuke Death (6/day) (Sp) - 0/6
Shortspear - 0/1
Tindertwig - 0/10
Touch of Glory (6/day) (Sp) - 0/6
Touched by Divinity (Cure Light Wounds) (1/day) - 0/1
Trail rations - 0/5
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Special Abilities
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Angelic Blood +2 saves vs. evil effects, to stabilize while dying, and 1 damage to evil or undead if bleeding.
Antitoxin This substance counteracts a specific toxin. If you drink a vial of antitoxin, you gain a +5 alchemical bonus on Fortitude saving throws against poison for 1 hour.

Alchemical Power Component
Like antiplague, this substance can augment certain healing spells.
Neutralize Poison (M): Add +2 on your caster level check to neutralize poison on a target creature. Antitoxin has no effect when you cast the spell on an object.
Aura (Ex) The Cleric has an aura corresponding to his deity's alignment.
Cleric Channel Positive Energy 1d6 (6/day) (DC 16) (Su) Positive energy heals the living and harms the undead; negative has the reverse effect.
Cleric Domain (Glory) Granted Powers: You are infused with the glory of the divine, and are a true foe of the undead. In addition, when you channel positive energy to harm undead creatures, the save DC to halve the damage is increased by 2.
Cleric Domain (Healing) Granted Powers: Your touch staves off pain and death, and your healing magic is particularly vital and potent.
Damage Resistance, Acid (5) You have the specified Damage Resistance against Acid attacks.
Damage Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Damage Resistance against Cold attacks.
Damage Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Damage Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Disease Variant Channeling (±1 Sacred) Heal ability damage/Sicken
Rebuke Death (6/day) (Sp) Heal 1d4 damage to creatures at negative HP.
Spontaneous Casting The Cleric can convert stored spells into Cure or Inflict spells.
Touch of Glory (6/day) (Sp) Grant +1 to a CHA-based skill or ability check.

-Jaklo Kull, Varisian Elder

Goom
Male goblin Synthesist Summoner 1
LG Small Humanoid (goblin)
Init +1; Senses Perception -1, darkvision 60 ft.
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DEFENSE
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AC 12[15], touch 12[11], flat-footed 11[14] (+1 dex, +1 size [+4 natural])
hp 9[11] (1d8+1)[1d10+1]
Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +1 (1d3+1/19-20/x2)
[2 claws/bite +4 (1d6+3)]
Summoner Spells (CL 1; concentration +3)
1st—grease, mount
0 (at will)—arcane mark, detect magic, mage hand, message
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STATISTICS
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Str 13[16], Dex 12[12], Con 12[13], Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 15
Base Atk +0[+1]; CMB +0[+4]; CMD 11[15]
Feats Combat Reflexes
Traits Indomitable Faith, Touched by Divinity (protection from evil) (1/day)
Skills Knowledge (religion) +5, Spellcraft +5; UMD +6
Languages Goblin, Common
SQ fused eidolon, fused link, summon monster I(5/day), skilled(+4 Ride/Stealth)
Combat Gear dagger
Other Gear monk's robes, silver holy symbol of Sarenrae, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, iron pot, mess kit, soap, trail rations (5 days), waterskin, 100 gp worth of misc equipment (to be decided)
Wealth 13 gp
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Fused Eidolon
Fused Link (Su)
Summon Monster I(Sp)
Protection from Evil (Sp)
[Evolutions (Ex unless noted) claws, limbs(arms), limbs(legs), improved damage(claws), bite, improved natural armor]

Her gaping eyes dart every which way, taking in what appears to be her first taste of metropolitan city life. Her mouth is well hidden by a thick veil, but one can only imagine it hanging open in dumbfounded amazement at this burst of activity.

The rest of here is clothed in a set of slightly dirty white and gold robes with long sleaves that fall just past her hips. The holy symbol of Sarenrae hanging off her neck marks her as one of the devout, freshly arrived from somewhere, perhaps to contribute to the crusades. How such and unassuming (and unarmed) woman can contribute is beyond you, however. A healer perhaps?

She seems to meet each new face with the same generic, almost scripted greeting. Each word of common is a strain, and a strange rune glows upon her forehead whenever she sputters with her unplaceable accent:

"H-hello. I. Am Goom."

Aurora Godfrey
Aasimar Bard 1 (Arcane Duelist)
LG Medium outsider (native) and humanoid (human)
Init +1; Senses Perception +3

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DEFENSE
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AC 17, touch 11, flat-footed 16 (+1 Dex, +4 armor, +2 shield)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +1
Defensive Abilities Celestial crusader (+1 insight on AC against evil outsiders)
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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Masterwork longsword +5 (1d8+4, 19-20)
Melee Longspear +4 (1d8+6, x3)
Ranged Spear +1 (1d8+6, x3)
Arcane Strike Swift action, +1 damage and magic weapon
Offensive Abilities Celestial crusader (+1 insight on attack rolls AC against evil outsiders)
Bard Spells
1st level (2 per day, DC 13) - placeholder spell
Cantrips (DC 15)- placeholder spell
Bardic Performance 7 rounds per day

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STATISTICS
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Str 18, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 08, Cha 16 (before racial adjustments: Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 08, Cha 14)

Base Atk +0; CMB +4; CMD 15

FeatsArcane Strike (Arcane Duelist bonus feat), one more (to be decided based on party composition).

Traits Chosen of Iomedae, Touched by Divinity (Iomedae)

Skills (6 skill points)
Diplomacy +7, Intimidate +7, Knowledge (history) +4, Knowledge (planes) +6, Perform (oratory) +7, Sense Motive +3.

Class Abilities Bardic Performance, cantrips, rallying cry, distraction, fascinate, inspire courage +1

Racial Traits Celestial crusader (+1 insight on attack rolls and AC against evil outsiders, +2 on Knowledge (planes) and Spellcraft to identify evil outsiders or items or effects created by them), darkvision 60 ft., scion of humanity (counts both as outsider (native) and humanoid (human); pass for human without using Disguise), spell-like ability (alter self 1/day).

Languages Common.

Favored class Bard (benefit: +1/2 level higher when determining the effects of inspire courage).

Equipment Masterwork longsword (provided by the Chosen of Iomedae trait), heavy steel shield, chain shirt.

Other Gear Backpack, Bedroll, Winter blanket, Sack (empty), Spell component pouch.

Coin TDB.

Aurora is a slender, sinewy and strong woman with straw-blond hair and blue eyes, but her figure is almost always hidden by chain, boiled leather and steel shield. Her voice is clear and booming when shouting in battle, seemingly challenging the clangor of battle for dominance. She is high-spirited, always trying to keep the morale of her companions up by a combination of self-assuredness, faith in Iomedae, and tactical assessment of the situation (always delivered with a calculated tone but ultimately skewed to paint a better picture).

Walking around Kenabres, Aurora could very well be mistaken for a priestess of Iomedae, displaying proudly a silver holy symbol and a well-crafted longsword adorned with the sunburst common to the faith of the Inheritor. Those are complemented by a steel shield and longspear.

During the solitary months her father was campaigning, Aurora would trace the familiar patterns of her father's silver holy symbol and pray for Iomedae to protect him and light his way back home, and he always returned. The priests were like a family to her, but she always harbored the deeply-held hope that her father would take her with him the next time, teach her all she needed to know to fight by his side, for the greater good.

So the priests weren't the least bit surprised when the skinny girl begged to attend the sword-masses and courtyard training sessions. They were already used to stopping her "playing" with the other children as knights and demons, reenacting battles with stick swords and oak bark shields. That she managed to coerce the kids to play the demons while she always played the paladin was also noticed, as were her detailed descriptions of military skirmishes. When she attended the training sessions, though, she was woefully unprepared. Too thin, too weak, too hot-headed and distracted. No good for a sword saint, not even disciplined enough to be a priestess. The way out was offered a number of times - the war effort needs able hands, be them cooks, stablehands or cabin girls.

But still she persisted. Where she didn't have the strenght, she had determination. And she always managed to make friends and goad them to teach her whatever they could to help her become a proper sword maiden, maybe someday good enough to squire for her father. Over the years, that skinny girl with crooked teeth grew up to be a slender, strong woman with a booming voice. Her impeccable sense of tactics provided by countless hours reading military accounts and leadership talents capable of forcing her friends to the utmost of their abilities finally enabled her to apply for a squire position. She sent a letter to her father, asking him to come visit on the day of her initiation. He never came.

They brought his sword in its scabbard. Although they cleaned it, Aurora still found dry drops of blood in the blade's fuller. Was that blood her father's or his enemies? They did not know. All they did know was that his unit had been ambushed, and signs of a tilted battle were found on the site. The bodies were nowhere to be seen, but by the devastation and blood found, their survival was unlikely to say the least.

Still unconvinced her father is simply dead, Aurora decided to discover for herself his destiny, and perhaps on the way discover any clues of her mother. She stashed her meager belongings on a backpack, strapped on her shield, donned her chainmail and belted on his father's sword. She would become a crusader, find her father or bring justice to his killer. Or so she thought. Fate has a funny way of mocking the wishes of mortals.

Aurora has no idea she's an aasimar. Her traits are diminished enough that she passes easily for a human, and the combination of her strong faith and natural magic talent justify her aasimar abilities to herself. Her bloodline comes from her unknown mother.

The grating sound of metal on metal announces the newcomer's arrival. Keen eyes can discern that the slender shape beneath the chain and helm is a woman, her straw-blond hair a bit chaffed by the armor. Her decided steps make the sunburst holy symbol in her neck sway while her arm is casually rested on the pommel of a polished longsword in its scabbard. As she approaches, she brings one hand up in salutations, removing her half-helm cordially with the other. Light freckles mark a pleasant face and warm smile.

May the light of the gods shine upon our meeting, goodfellows! How's Kenabre's markets been treating you fine folk this day? Say, does any of you plan to leave the city for the eastern road in the foreseeable future?

The festivities seem to mock him, it is hard to begrudge the people of this harsh land a little joy, but they seem almost to be celebrating the death of The Last Azlanti. And more he cannot help but recall happier times when he would attend such events with his family, Elsbeth pestering him for sweets, Hal strutting around proud as a rooster with some new girl on his arm, Celiese and he sharing exasperation, and pride in equal measure. He pauses taking a breath, eyes bright with moisture, drinking in the hurt of it, the last proof that his little family ever existed.

But he is looking for something here, for those armed for war amidst the gaiety. Finally he spies a likely looking group and makes his way to them,

"Your pardon, but I am seeking word of an assault against the demon hordes, you seem well equipped for warfare, do you know of such a thing? Forgive me, I am Ser Garroth Cailean, Paladin of Aroden and Iomedae, and I have come to reclaim my honour and avenge my family."

Always small for his age he nevertheless took to martial training intending to make a living as a mercenary. But he caught religion from a Priest of Aroden, Aldma Schoss, who came to tend the orphans during a bout of Coppertongue Fever the father gave him a copy of Aroden's holy text, The History and Future of Humanity, which he still carries two centuries later.

At eighteen he set out as a caravan guard, but found himself called to aide a small hamlet on their path being beset by raiders. As he battled the bandits leader, a bear of a man who had him outmatched in both power and experience he found a moment of sudden calm amidst his panic and felt the blessings of Aroden lend him the strength to smite the bestial bandit. So called he presented himself to the Church of Aroden in Cheliax and was acknowledged as a Paladin.

Life was hard, but rewarding as a sword of The Last Azlanti, and for thirty years he served, helping those in need, smiting the wicked, and furthering the expansion of the Chelaxian Empire - humanities brightest light. Then in an instant it was all gone.

The Starfall Doctrine foretold that in 4606 AR Aroden would lead the human race to a thousand years of wonder and prosperity, The Age of Glory, and take the Chelaxian throne. Instead Garroth found his connection to his god severed, and the Empire he had so loved descended into darkness and diabolism.

Broken and bereft he journeyed back to his home and began to train men suddenly eager to learn skill at arms with The Worldwound consuming nearby Sarkoris. Here he first realized that his strange abilities, his youthfulness, the fact that his eyes could pierce the darkness, etc., were not the blessings of Aroden, but a curse. He began to drink heavily, earning the disapproval of the Orphanage's staff, for Cayden Cailean celebrated drinking for pleasure not maudlin self pity.

Then from nowhere he me a woman Celiese, a bakers daughter, plain, but with a laugh and smile that could warm the coldest heart. Bringing bread for the children each day Celiese courted the moody, but handsome Garroth with patient sincerity and they were married in 4620 AR.

They were swept up in the 1st Mendevian Crusade and were amongst the founders of the Fortress City of Drezen. There they raised a family, five boys, Hal, Devon, Rell, Ned, and Corwin, and one girl, Elsbeth. Though they were happy - for the most part - Celiese begged Garroth to move to safer lands with his family, but he felt his duty was in Drezen, and was beginning to feel a growing connection with Iomedae, the goddess who had inherited his Lord Aroden's mantle.

In 4638 AR Garroth Cailean's beautiful family were caught in the wave of chaotic energies that overwhelmed Drezen and transformed before his eyes into slavering bestial monsters. But Garroth's curse protected him, it saved him so he could watch his sons tear his wife to shred and devour her, so that he could stab his beloved daughter in the heart as she tried to claw out his throat. It saved him so he could know despair.

Seventy five years have passed, since he fled Drezen in the chaos. Decades of misery and drunken impotence. Part of Garroth longed to die, to be with his family, but every time he tried to summon the courage to end his life he saw their twisted faces. How could he end his life when some of his sons were still trapped as monsters? Did their souls writhe within those hideous shells, did they know what they had become? But it was hopeless, one man could never hope to strike into the heart of The Worldwound, so he sank into bottle after bottle to numb the pain...

Then she came to him, bright as the sun in gleaming armour, and she told him that she would grant him a chance. The time for wallowing was done, it was time to stand to take up the sword and to reclaim his honour. The Lady of Valor offered to restore his mantle of old. He awoke to rumours of a 5th Crusade, and rekindled purpose.

Now shriven, and determined Garroth Cailean means to free his lost sons, and drive the demons back into the Abyss.

Always small for his age he nevertheless took to martial training intending to make a living as a mercenary. But he caught religion from a Priest of Aroden, Aldma Schoss, who came to tend the orphans during a bout of Coppertongue Fever. The father gave him a copy of Aroden's holy text, The History and Future of Humanity, and he thumbed through its pages thousands of times, imagining himself a part of something vast and glorious.

At eighteen he set out as a caravan guard, but found himself called to aide a small hamlet on their path being beset by raiders - against the caravan's owners wishes. As he battled the bandits leader, Rigthor Brung, a bear of a man who had him outmatched in both power and experience he found a moment of sudden calm amidst his panic and felt the blessings of Aroden lend him the strength to smite the bandit. So called he presented himself to the Church of Aroden's heart in Cheliax and was acknowledged as a Paladin.

Life was hard, but rewarding as a sword of The Last Azlanti, and for thirty years he served, helping those in need, smiting the wicked, and furthering the expansion of the Chelaxian Empire - humanities brightest light. Then in an instant it was all gone.

The Starfall Doctrine foretold that in 4606 AR Aroden would lead the human race to a thousand years of wonder and prosperity, The Age of Glory, and take the Chelaxian throne. Instead Garroth found his connection to his god severed, and the Empire he had so loved descended into darkness and diabolism.

Broken and bereft he journeyed back to his home and began to train men suddenly eager to learn skill at arms with The Worldwound consuming nearby Sarkoris. Here he first realized that his strange abilities, his youthfulness, the fact that his eyes could pierce the darkness, etc., were not the blessings of Aroden, but a curse. He began to drink heavily, earning the disapproval of the orphanage's staff, for Cayden Cailean celebrated drinking for pleasure not maudlin self pity.

Then from nowhere he me a woman Celiese, a baker's daughter, plain, but with a laugh and smile that could warm the coldest heart. Bringing bread for the children each day Celiese courted the moody, but handsome Garroth with patient sincerity and they were married in 4620 AR.

Swept up in the 1st Mendevian Crusade, where Garroth lead a company of the Militia he had trained, and were amongst the founders of the Fortress City of Drezen. There they raised a family, five boys, and one girl. Though they were happy for the most part, Celiese begged Garroth to move to safer lands with his family, but he felt his duty was in Drezen and was beginning to feel a growing connection with Iomedae, the goddess who had inherited his Lord Aroden's mantle.

In 4638 AR Garroth Cailean's beautiful family were caught in the wave of chaotic energies that overwhelmed Drezen and transformed before his eyes into slavering bestial monsters. Garroth's curse protected him, it saved him so he could watch his sons tear his wife to shreds and devour her, so that he could stab his beloved daughter in the heart as she tried to claw out his throat. It saved him so he could know the very depths of despair.

Seventy five years have passed, since he fled Drezen in the chaos. Decades of misery and drunken impotence. Part of Garroth longed to die, to be with his family, but every time he tried to summon the courage to end his life he saw their twisted faces. How could he end his life when his sons were still trapped out there as monsters? Did their souls writhe within those hideous shells, did they know what they had become? But it was hopeless, one man could never hope to strike into the heart of The Worldwound, so he sank into bottle after bottle to numb the pain...

Then she came to him, bright as the sun in gleaming armor, and she told him that she would grant him a chance. The time for wallowing was done, it was time to stand to take up the sword and to reclaim his honor. The Lady of Valor offered to restore his mantle of old. He awoke to rumours of a 5th Crusade, and rekindled purpose.

Now shriven, and determined Garroth Cailean means to free his lost sons, and drive the demons back into the Abyss.

"Well met," he offers to those standing around him with the same apparent aim in mind. "I am Michael Carenae, faithful servant of the Inheritor. Are you all here for the Festival as well?"

She is quiet, almost timid, as she approaches a group of likely-looking crusaders. "Pardon me...I know you probably have better sword-arms, but I'm looking to go out into the Worldwound with a group. I can heal, a bit, so I won't be completely useless. Please...I just need to sign on with a Company." The last is almost in a desperate tone...

"Hey, watch out!", the man blurts out. He then proceeds, with a nasty grin, "Aren't you a little too old to join the crusade, dwarf?" He makes sure to emphasize the last word.

Ratimir sighs and looks up. "I didn't realize there was an age limit," he offers, not wishing to engage in further trouble. The man insists. "Ran away from the nursing home, did you?", and is driven to laughter by his own joke.

Ratimir shakes his head and replies ominously. "No. My people pleaded me to come. What about you?"

The man puffs out his chest and answers proudly, as if he had just been waiting for an opportunity to boast. "I come from a long lineage of blue-blooded knights. My ancestors have all fought in the crusades, and now the opportuniy has arisen for me to take part in the war against the demons. It is only natural that Taldor's most notable family be present!"

Ratimir stares at him, feigning interest. "So, you come of your own accord?"

"Indeed!", the knight replies.

"No one urged you to enlist?", inquires the dwarf.

The man looks at Ratimir suspiciously. "No..."

"I suppose that means only one of us is wanted here, then," Ratimir finishes, a slight smile on his lips.

The man frowns and turns around, leaving Ratimir once again alone with this thoughts.

Background
Tarengart Hildenberk is the son of the priest Byorfort Hildenberk, son of brewer Hibnion Hildenberk, son of Einkil Hildenberk who was a high priest of Torag for a time. The Hildenberks have served Torag devoutly for as far back as the temple's written records go; as priests and brewers of . . . er -dwarven holy water. Ahem. The city's dwarven population would be nearly unanimous in their belief that Hildenberk Ale is second only to Gutbuster, a recipe that is rumored to have been given to the family by the God of the Forge, Himself.

In Tarengart's (Taren for short) early days his devotion to Torag, his talent for brewing, his compassion for others, and the ease in which he under-stood the intricacies of clerical healing caused him to stand out. Many of the dwarven elders believed that he could be a high priest in the making. It was said in some circles that the young dwarf was even Touched by Torag's favor. The only thing that kept this belief from being voiced too loudly was the fact that Tarengart was equally skilled in many non-clerical duties. He seemed to excel at most everything else he touched. He could pick up a wooden practice "dwarven axe" and defeat any of his peers as well as keep his own with many of the veteran undercity guard who came to the yard to keep their martial skill sharp. "Perhaps he is a warrior then", his elders would whisper.

As a brewer and a fan of drinking with friends, Taren spent a lot of time in the taverns of the dwarven areas of the city. It was not rare for a native dwarf adventurer to visit when their party was nearby. Often the rest of their adventuring group would accompany them. Even the elves who were clearly out of place and uncomfortable would be clasping Taren's arm in friendship before they left (and often with offers of joining them if the young dwarf wished). "No, perhaps he is a diplomat" ... the dwarven elders would again guess.

In truth, Tarengart didn't know where he fit in either. He was proud of his Dwarven heritage, but also had great compassion for the other goodly races. He loved his god and certainly enjoyed his share of making and imbibing "holy water" but he also loved swinging the axe on the practice field.

Thoughts of his future left the dwarf confused until one of the visiting adventuring troupes included a human paladin of Torag. Taren sat at the table of the old, war battered, holy man throughout the night and early into the next morning as they enjoyed a largely one-sided exchange of tales. The holy man spoke of love and devotion to his god but also of decades of battles in defense of the innocent. When the Paladin left later that day, Tarengart knew who he was and where his skillset fit.

Suryani's mother, once the daughter of a Kelish horselord, fled her homeland and moved to Taldor soon after falling in love with a Taldan soldier. After getting married, they've led a relatively simple life, with Timeon enrolling in military academy on insistence of his father, whereas Suryani stayed home and took up more mundane pursuits.

Suryani however, has felt an irresistible attraction to the goddess Sarenrae all her life, unlike her mother, who only pays lip-service to the traditional goddess of her people. She's even gone so far as to join an underground cult of Sarenites that goes by the name of the Dawnflower Blossoms, since the worship of Sarenrae is actually outlawed in Taldor. This connection she has to Sarenrae is a bit of a mystery to Suryani, but she draws strength from it during hardship. She is curious to learn more about it however, and especially about the recurring dream she's been having all her life.

So it was that when her brother expressed his intention to travel to the Worldwound to pledge his service to the crusaders stationed there, Suryani found himself accompanying him for the journey. But unlike what Timeon believes—that she's just escorting him there—Suryani was actually tasked by her parents to try and convince him to abandon this latest foolish notion of his. Because while Timeon has always been an adequate warrior, the truth of the matter is that he overestimates his prowess, while Suryani, in turn, has yet to discover the true strength of her faith.

Physical description:
Suryani is a young woman of 20 years old, of average height. Of Kelish descent, she has olive skin and short, unkempt black hair. Her brown eyes sometimes seem to contain a few specks of gold within them. Her attire consists of leather breeches, a simple cloth tunic over which she wears an old chain shirt, and a red cloak, it's hem embroidered with golden thread. A scimitar hangs from her waist, and she carries a battered buckler. From a silver chain around her neck hangs a silver symbol, depicting a winged female figure, her arms outstretched and her raised head surrounded by a fiery halo. The holy symbol of Sarenrae, also known as the Dawnflower, which she displays openly when not within the borders of Taldor.

People that do not know her might call her shy or timid, but Suryani is used to fading into the background and not drawing notice to herself, usually deferring to her brother. When she does speak, she is is soft-spoken and courteous. As of yet, she's unsure what to do with her life, but she certainly does not feel like any sort of hero.