DM Salsa Presents: Wrath of the Righteous (Inactive)

Game Master AdamWarnock

“Ain’t you cold?” one of the mercenaries called back.

“Freezing,” Rakeesh stated flatly. “I feel like there is ice pumping through my veins.”

“Then bring yerself over to the fire, ya fool!”

“It is of no help.” Rakeesh looked wistfully off towards the south. “I was once one of the Lords of Osirion… a descendent of Ragathiel himself… a being of glorious golden fire… a child of the princes of Heaven, Hell, and Golarion all in one…” his voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “The retribution of the Empyreal Lord is terrifying, my friends. Do not neglect your duty. Do not squander the gifts of fire and blood.”

“Oh, yeah?” the corner of the mercenary’s mouth turned up in skeptical amusement. “And what brings ya on this trek to the most godsforsaken corner of the world, yer highness?”

“The General of Vengeance has taken the fire from my heart, but has replaced it with purpose. I go now to seek that purpose, to honor the nobility of my heritage. To be worthy of my heritage.”

“Ya thinkin’ to earn yer wings, yer majesty?” the bruiser laughed.

Rakeesh shook his head. “Ragathiel does not forgive. That I live is more than a miracle. Once he turns his eyes upon you in anger…” Rakeesh shivered. “No. I seek vengeance. Demonkind are foul, unholy creatures, unwelcome upon this plane. But, it is not for them that I hold this righteous retribution. I seek vengeance upon myself. It was the gift of my blood that I squandered, and by my blood shall it be paid.”

The mercenary nudged his companion, “Suicide by demon.”

Rakeesh glanced over to where his sword lay propped against a nearby tree. “I am not without some skill in the arts of war. Nor am I a fool, to be easily undone by the guile and deceit of demons and their ilk. A man must be a fool to believe he is invulnerable anywhere, much less on the very doorstep of the Abyss. Crusaders should not expect to live to a ripe old age. But, I do not plan to surrender my life cheaply.”

“I hear’d tell the spawn of angels glow like the sun, and heal folks with their tears. You don’t look much like any angel to me.”

“If you had seen me before, you would not speak such words,” Rakeesh smiled sadly. “My eyes glowed like molten gold, and my hair was a wreath of flame. Now…” he looked upon the man with dull grey eyes and ran his hand through his limp flaxen hair. He stood and stretched himself to his full, considerable height, turning his strong, slender frame to ease the tension in his back.

“Well, at least it makes for an int’restin’ story, yer lordship!” the man guffawed. “Beggin’ yer pardon o’ course!” A few of the other mercenaries that Rakeesh was traveling with chuckled at the joke. “Still, ya can’t kill no demons if ya catch yer death afore ya get there. Come and warm yerself.”

“The fire holds no appeal for me. It is a pale candle to the inferno I hold within…”

.............

Twenty years ago... Tarna Sah Anun spun to avoid the barbed stinger that lashed down. With a leap and another twist he avoided the massive pincer that grabbed at his ankles. He brought his sword in a raking strike across the creature’s foreleg. It barely scratched the surface of his carapace. “I cannot damage it!” he cried.

Nefut Ira Tarna weaved her hands and chanted a litany of power to Ragathiel, bringing holy fire down on the back of the fiendish scorpion. Tarna dashed around the creature as it writhed in agony from the blast. With a massive swing of his sword, he sheared the end of the creature’s barbed tail. A spray of caustic black poison erupted from the wound, covering Tarna’s face. He fell to the ground retching, as the poison seeped into his wounds.

Nefut screamed in horror as the back of the scorpion’s massive claw swept Tarna away, leaving him lying broken dozens of feet from the battle. The Abyssal creature advanced on her, gouts of acidic bile still spilling from its wounded tail. Nefut drew upon her most powerful spell, channeling the divine power of the General of Vengeance directly into her frail body. Instantly her speed and power increased, rivaling that of her warrior husband’s. She charged, scooping up his sword as she attacked.

The raw divine power flowed unchecked through muscle and bone and vein. She swung the sword over and over, chipping away at the demon’s carapace. The fiend lunged at her with claw and mandible. She deflected the great pincer over her head, and drove towards the creature’s maw. As it bit down, she struck up. The sword drove through the creatures open mouth and deep into its brain, bursting forth through the iron-hard shell that had so far remained impenetrable.

Nefut crawled across the sand towards her husband. There was no bringing him back from the brink. All of the gifts of power Ragathiel had bestowed upon her were spent in the battle. The crucible of her final calling still burned white hot within her, divine energy permeating every pore… and deeper places she had not yet spoken of to her husband. “Do not despair, my love,” she whispered. She cradled his shattered head within her lap, and held it close to her stomach, close to her womb. “We are to be blessed.”

………………

One year ago... Rakeesh Sah Tarna reclined on the silken divan. The dancer was lithe and graceful, her movement pleasing, and showing the promise of greater pleasures to come. A scantily clad servant tried to fill his glass as he swayed to the fantasia being played by harp and cymbal. With a squeak she spilled the contents of the decanter across his hand, and on the sleeve of his robe. His eyes, normally the color of molten gold, turned fiery red in an instant. “Worthless, craven insect!” he shouted. “What use have I for a servant such as you?” The flaming mane of crimson that wreathed his head whipped itself into a full conflagration, and the heat pouring off of him forced the terrified girl back.

His mood soured, he stumbled drunkenly to his pagoda. Once he had cooled the inferno within, he would send for the dancer and some more wine. However, within the palatial tent he found an unexpected guest. Nefut did not frequently travel. Injuries from battle and complications in birth had left her corporeal self broken and weak, though she still carried powerful divine magic. “Mother?”

“My son. I have come to beg you once again, turn aside from this life of petty idolatries and vice. You have such gifts within you. Do not treat them with such disdain.” She stood and steadied her son, holding his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I granted you your youthful indiscretions. I stood aside as you pursued this life of ease and purposelessness. I stayed silent while you became a wastrel and a bully. But, I cannot stand silent any longer.”

Rakeesh shook himself free of her grasp, nearly falling in the process. “What would you have of me, mother?” he scoffed. “I’ll not throw my life away on some foolish crusade.”

“WORTHLESS, CRAVEN INSECT!” the words exploded from his mother’s throat, but they were not hers. The power behind them was so immense, Rakeesh was thrown to the floor by the very sound. “WHAT USE HAVE I FOR A SERVANT SUCH AS YOU?”

Blackness descended over him as if he had been suddenly submerged in the deepest ice-cold depths of the ocean. The last words he heard as unconsciousness took him was his mother pleading for his life…

I usually play friendly, amiable, even laid-back characters, with a fair amount of intelligence and wit and a bit of a funny, joking demeanor.

Corridan Valkeri: A spy and assassin hiding behind the identity of a tailor, Corridan is an Aspis Consortium agent in a homebrew campaign.

Alastair Rayne: A former soldier who now teaches close combat in the city's Academy, Alastair is part of a select team of agents in a Zeitgeist campaign.

Ethaniel Tessarin: An orphan warrior mage obsessed with his adopted father's sentient blade, Ethaniel is one of the evil Forsaken in a Way of the Wicked campaign.

The following character is probably one of my favorites. I have been playing him for almost three or four years and I rather like the charming, devil-may-care rogue and swordsman.

Kieran Markavien: An ex-slaver, rogue and swordsman with a devil-may-care attitude and a sharp wit, Kieran is among the winning team of the Trials of Grallus in a homebrew campaign.

Kieran's introductory posts and initial interactions with his new companions

Kieran's dance with Tebati and the beginnings of their romance

Kieran's confrontation with an elven mage alongside Ansha and Tebati

Raevanis "Raven" Dwin'Alir: An elven rogue from a line of shadowdancers, Raven was one of the companions striving to make things better for the people of Westcrown in a Council of Thieves campaign (he also has the distincion of being my first character in a PbP game).

Raven's introductory posts

Raven giving a bit of advice to a companion and friend

Vaenathis Konnal: A magus and elven soldier, Vaenathis is a not quite so nice and friendly (yet still good) character in a homebrew campaign combining elements from the Kingmaker and Curse of the Crimson Throne campaigns.

Alistair Cray: A not-so-typical Jedi in a time when they are supposed to be all but wiped out, Alistair is part of a ragtag group of rebels in a Dawn of Defiance campaign.

Alistair offering some support to a fellow Jedi

Well, this is about it, I suppose.

Harram Fliyn
NG Male human slayer 1 (Advanced Class Guide page 53)
Init +5; Perception +7
Favored Class: Slayer
FCB: +1 Hit Point

DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 15, flat-footed 14 (+4 Armor, +5 Dex)
Hp 16 (1d10 + 5 Con + 1 FCB)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +3

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee cold iron battle axe +4 (1d8+3, x3)
Melee cold iron morningstar +4 (1d8+3, x3)
Ranged composite longbow +6 (1d8, x3)

STATISTICS
Str 17, Dex 21, Con 21, Int 17, Wis 17, Cha 12
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 19
Feats Armor Proficiencies (light, medium), Quick Draw, Point Blank Shot, Shield Proficiency, Weapon Proficiencies (simple, martial)
Traits Chance Encounter, Scholar of the Great Beyond, Armor Expert
Skills Acrobatics +9, Climb +7, Intimidate +5, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +7, Knowledge (history) +5, Knowledge (planes) +8, Perception +7, Sense Motive +7, Stealth +9, Survival +7
Languages Common, Abyssal, Draconic, Elven
SQ Studied Target, track
Gear: Studded Leather Armor, Armored Kilt, Longbow, cold iron battleaxe, cold iron morningstar, 40 arrows, 40 cold iron arrows, explorer’s outfit, cold-weather outfit, Slayer’s Kit (backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, iron pot, manacles, mess kit, rope, torches (10), trail rations (5 days), waterskin), trail rations (6 days), 80 gp

Studied target (Ex): A slayer can study an opponent as a move action. The slayer gains a +1 bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks attempted against that target, and a +1 bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls against it. The DCs of Slayer class abilities increase by 1. A slayer can maintain these bonuses against only 1 target at a time; these bonuses remain in effect until either the opponent is dead or the slayer studies a new target.
If a slayer deals sneak attack damage to a target, he can study the target as an immediate action, allowing him to apply his studied target bonuses against that target (including the normal weapon damage roll).
At 5th, 10th, 15th, and 20th levels, the bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls, the bonus on skills, as well as the bonus on slayer ability DCs on a studied target all increase by 1. In addition, at each such interval, a slayer is able to maintain these bonuses against an additional studied target at the same time. The slayer may discard this connection to a studied target as a free action.
At 7th level, a slayer can study an opponent as a move or swift action.

Track (Ex): A slayer adds ½ his level (minimum 1), to Survival checks made to follow tracks.

Harram Fliyn was born the second son of a Magnimarian guardsman 2 years before the Fourth Mendevian Crusade. When the call for volunteers went out, his father felt the need to join the crusaders, and so moved himself and his family to Kenabres to join the crusade. Growing up in a city that was the center of crusade, Harram often found himself left to his own devices. His older brother sought to join the church of Iomedae as a paladin, and would brush him off anytime he tried to spend time with him, and he didn’t much care for his younger sister and her dolls. Instead, he and some other children would wander and play, sneaking about and pretending to be crusaders fighting vicious demons. They would stay out too late sometimes, and be in trouble when they got home. Harram’s mother often said, “Harram, you must be more careful. Why can’t you be more serious like your brother?” Harram and his friends would also sometimes sneak out to play, even when they weren’t supposed to. Harram was good at sneaking, and he got good at climbing and tumbling.

One day, though, their play took them a bit too far, and they found themselves in unfamiliar terrain. Lost, they wandered until it grew dark, eventually taking shelter in a cluster of rocks, terrified of what might be waiting for them. As they cowered, they saw a monstrous shape emerge from the darkness, approaching their hiding spot, licking its lips in hunger.

Suddenly, a woman appeared out of nowhere and attacked the creature. After a short battle, the monster lay dead at her feet. She beckoned the children to come with her, for she would see them to safety. She had a symbol that Harram had seen on some of the priests in Kenabres, a butterfly. She seemed to draw some sort of comfort from the talisman, and she shepherded them towards what they hoped was Kenabres, fighting off other creatures during the night. As dawn approached, she told them to rest in a small copse of trees, and they lied down. A short while later, they were awoken by a group of crusaders, and found the woman was gone. Harram returned home to his worried mother and father. He apologized for all he’d done, and was overjoyed to see them. He asked his brother about the butterfly, and his brother said it was the symbol of Desna. He then told Harram to go away because he was busy.

Harram always remembered the experience, and he decided he would learn to fight demons as the woman had done. His brother went off for formal training as a paladin, so his father would spend time teaching him to use different weapons and wear armor. He’d always been a small but agile boy, so his father focused on teaching him the bow and what the lighter armors felt like. As he grew older, though, he filled out and became stronger, so his father took to teaching him blades as well. Despite his increased strength, he seemed to be even more agile, and eschewed the heavier chain mail his father preferred in favor of leathers.

When not training with weapons, he would study, learning all he could about demons and their ilk, as well as the strange, horrific creatures from this plane. He studied the history of the crusades, and what the crusaders who came before him had learned in their battles. He also continued to practice the skills he’d honed as a child, turning them from tricks used to get by his parents into tools he could use to hunt and avoid demonkind.

For 10 years, he has trained and studied. Now, he feels he is ready to join the crusaders and fight the demons. But first, his brother is being ordained as a Paladin, and he has chosen to attend the ceremony.

Harram’s father, Norat, swung his practice blade at his midsection, with Harram just barely dodging the strike. He was sweating and breathing heavily, but thus far was the longest he’d gone without his father landing a blow, and this time, he intended to score the final strike. Studying his father’s movements, watching the position of his feet and the shift of his torso, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, and leapt forward. Usually, when he advanced, his father would catch him, but this time he had a surprise. As his father’s blade came to intercept him, Harram dove into a roll to the side, and struck his father a blow across the legs. As his father’s legs buckled he stood, and in one fluid motion put the practice sword at his father’s neck, and said, ”You’re dead. Victory is mine.”

”Well, I suppose I am, son. Help me up.” Harram helped his father to his feet, and they went to change out of their leathers.

”You finally managed to land the first blow, Harram. I’m impressed. You might be ready to face combat yet. That tumble was unexpected and unconventional.”

”All thanks to your training, father. You’ve been working me hard for a decade.”

Norat snorted. ”It’s as much due to your size and coordination as it is my training. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been blessed by Iomedae, to have turned out the way you did. I don’t suppose you can share some of that with your old man? Ah, well, such is life.”

Laughing, Harram changed the subject. ”So, tomorrow is Galan’s knighting ceremony. I was thinking of going.” Norat gave Harram an appraising look. ”Well, I’ve got duty on the walls, and your mother won’t be able to make it either. It’d be good to have someone from the family attend. I know you two aren’t close.”

Harram grinned and said, ”Since we’re both going to be fighting demons together, perhaps we’d best change that.”
Norat smiled. ”Perhaps it would be best if you did.” Together, they entered the house to wash up for supper.

As the daughter of an Iomedaen Cleric and a Sarenraen Paladin, Paige was born as the scion of two long lineages of Crusaders. All of her living relatives know only life by the Worldwound, and very few did not answer the call. Whether devoting themselves to a church and fighting for a god they revered, or merely serving as skilled soldiers or healers, they set the example by which the young girl would attempt to live up to, wanting above all else to devote her life to the noble cause that many of her family had given their lives for. To help end it once and for all, to see her generation be the last one that had to live through such hardship and tragedy. From an early age she threw herselves into worship and practice to follow in her parents' footsteps, unsure who she would devote herself to and through which path, but being very faithful to the gods and very earnest in her desire to serve them.

Through her mother the Paladin, she learned forgiveness and to have faith in the light. That nobody was beyond help or redemption if they truly sought it. Mercy and compassion followed; not everybody on the front lines of the Crusades was a soldier but they struggled all the same, and needed aid from a kind knight just as much as they needed protection from a fierce warrior. Said ferocity came from her father, who wielded divine magic on the frontlines and honed his martial prowess in Iomedae's name. He taught her swordplay and honour as a warrior above all else. There was glory in combat, but there were lines to it, and she was taught those lines, when to show mercy to an opponent and when to fight to the death. Reverence was also a part of his teachings, as he was as much a priest as a warrior, leading her in long prayers and teaching her traditions and rites.

Perhaps it was because of her lineage that she was taken by cultists, that they had studied potential victims and took a little girl to inherit two legacies of the Crusades to be a particularly potent 'participant', whether as an offering or to corrupt her; she was too young to gleam any further information. But whatever they intended had not gone as planned, infusing the girl instead with the twisted energies but not imparting their corruption upon her. She'd managed to break free and run, clawing her way to safety with only a ceremonial dagger and the surge of whatever had been infused within her. Whatever it was, it seemed a mystery to every priest who looked her over, every spell they cast to detect some darkness within her, but her soul had somehow not been blackened.

Once she knew she had not been twisted by the cultists, she directed her energy and attention onto channeling her fury productively. In an unconventional way she followed in her parents' footsteps, choosing the more martial path of a Paladin, but under the banner of Iomedae, which reflected the renewed personal importance of fighting over the healing that typified Sarenrae's chuch. The cultists had made her decision for her; she would take up a blade and become a fearsome warrior who could find and smite them and all others like them. She believed that perhaps some answer of what happened to her lay within the Worldwound, but she was absolutely certain that many other things equally deserving of her blade were there as well.

Peacetime followed, the Fourth Crusade ebbing out with embarrassing silence, but the young girl was no less engrossed in her lessons. She trained rigorously, knowing peace would likely not last and that when something next happened, she would be ready for it. A fully-fledged Paladin who could answer the call when a fifth Crusade began, which it most assuredly would. She was granted full acceptance into the Church of Iomedae during Armasse in 4707, but her father did not return from his mission in the Worldwound on the eve of the ceremony, as he was supposed to. Instead, a single ragged, breathless scout, claiming that the entire group had been wiped out by an ambush.

It left a bittersweet note to the ceremony as nonetheless Paige was induced into the order, now with an even greater need for justice. To find the demons who killed her father, to make sure that the next war was the last one so that nobody else would have to know this tragedy. She was one of the Inheritor's Knights now, and would ensure she lived up to that title. Until such time came for her blade to cut through swaths of evil though, she followed in her mother's footsteps in helping the community and giving aid to those who needed it, striving to do good in all corners of life. She teaches other young hopefuls of Paladinhood swordplay and gives a lot of her efforts to charity.

Paige is kind and compassionate, driven by many forces within herself, but above all the desire to do good. Raised in a very religious household, she was taught to be reverent, and though she bears the standard of Iomedae she has great respect for other gods and their worshippers nonetheless. Coversion isn't a concern for her, wanting to live as a good influence and example for others rather than getting people to proclaim devotion to one god or another. As a result, she tries to lead a virtuous life, kind and devout, knowing the line between justice and mercy, rather than live a hard and fanatical life.

Though she believes firmly that evil can be redeemed, those who are unrepetant in their evil see no compassion from her. As a follower of Iomedae, rooting out evil is her mission, and her own life has been touched in too many ways by dark forces. In full-blown Paladin mode, gone is the kind girl, replaced by a thunderous and bombastic holy avenger threatening judgement and thunder down upon the forces of evil. This furious and over-the-top veneer helps give her strength, hide the fear and doubt that the death of her father and the trauma of her participation in a ritual by putting on a fierce, steely expression and perhaps inspiring fear in others as well.

Paige Sentine - Paladin of Iomedae 1
Lawful Good Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +10; Perception +3
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DEFENSE
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AC 15, touch 15, flatfooted 13 ( +5 Dex +3 Armor)
HP 14 (1d10 (10) + 3 Con +1 class)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +4
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee
-Longsword (wielded in two hands) +7 (1d8 + 9) 19-20/x2, S
--Power Attack: +6, 1d8 + 12
-Lucerne Hammer +7 (1d12 + 9) x2, B/P
--Power Attack: +6, 1d12 +12
Ranged
-Longbow +5 (1d8) x3, B/P
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STATISTICS
------------------------------------------
XP
Str 23, Dex 21 (19 +2 racial), Con 16, Int 14, Wis 15, Cha 19
Base Attack +1; CMB 7; CMD 22
Feats: Improved Initiative, Power Attack
Traits: Exposed to Awfulness, Reactionary, Soldier of Faith (Intimidate)
Favoured Class: Paladin (1 HP)
Skills:
Diplomacy +8 (1 rank + 4 Cha + 3 class)
Intimidate +8 (1 rank + 4 Cha + 3 class)
Knowledge (Religion) +6 (1 rank +2 Int +3 class)
Perception +3 (1 rank +2 Wis)
Sense Motive +6 (1 rank +2 Wis + 3 class)
Languages: Common, Celestial, Elven
Equipment: Masterwork Studded Leather Armor, Longsword, Lucerne Hammer, Longbow, Common Arrows (20), Blunt Arrows (20), Backpack, Bedroll, Belt Pouch, cheap Holy Text of Iomedae, Flint and Steel, Iron Pot, Mess Kit, Soap, Torch (10), Trail Rations (5 days), Silver Flask Holy Symbol of Iomedae (filled with Holy Water), Holy Water (3)
Current encumbrance: 79 lbs
Money: 20 gp
Carrying capacity: 200, 201-400, 401,600
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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-Class Abilities-
Aura of Good
Detect Evil
Smite Evil 1/day: +4 to attack, +1 to damage

Paige will be taking the Champion path, and taking abilities that will let her become a high-damage, very tanky, and yet incredibly mobile character. Though a high Dexterity investment seems odd for non-archer Paladins, the Armor Master ability will let her retain her full Dex bonus to AC in increasingly heavier suits of armour as she ascends in tiers. She will level through Paladin all the way, focusing mainly on her Longsword, with her bow and Lucerne Hammer only as situational weapons when her sword would be a poor choice.

Paige took a moment to gather herself once her last pupil of the day began to energetically peel off his suit of armour, the fourteen year-old son of one of her superior officers. She envied the kids a little for their energy; she was long past the age where such activities filled her with renewed energy, and she longed for them again a little, even if she'd attained her lifelong goal of Paladinhood and had no intention of turning back from it. "I hope I see you at the festival!" he chirped, leaving the very light suit of practice armor and his wooden sword on the table for her to clean up, not that she minded.

"I do too," she called after him happily, albeit a little drained, as he ran off before she could answer. She only had a little while before she had to help set up for the festival as well, because she'd volunteered to help the church in that task. Because of course she had. It seemed like a sane idea at the time, like she would be bustling with energy, but hindsight was a vicious beast and two weeks later, she was feeling much less chipper than she expected. Not that she considered ducking out for even a moment; she'd promised to do it, and she wasn't going to step down, even if overworking herself was becoming a long-running pattern. At least she was already in the church itself and didn't have to run across the city to make it; a pre-festival Kenabres was not the easiest to maneuver through.

After putting away the sets of practice armor and fake swords that children were usually started on for the safety of everyone involved, she straightened herself out a little, fixing her hair and switching into more casual dress before departing from the training room, praying by the altar as she passed through, on her way to aid in preparations for the festival tomorrow. It would mark five years since both her acceptance into the order and her father's death, which had always ensured Armasse was a festival she threw herself utterly into, so as to keep busy and her mind away from its poor history with her. But, perhaps this year would go over rather well, forge some more memories worth keeping. Considering how ragged she was bound to run herself, she certainly deserved a break and some good news.

Lily Taharial
Azata-blooded aasimar (musetouched) oracle (purifier) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 42, Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide 84, 86)
LG Medium outsider (native)
Init +9; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +3
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Defense
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AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 12 (1d8+4)
Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +5
Resist acid 5, cold 5, electricity 5
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee longspear +0 (1d8/×3)
Ranged light crossbow +3 (1d8/19-20)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +6)
1/day—glitterdust (DC 17)
Oracle (Purifier) Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +6)
1st (4/day)—bless, shield of faith
0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, guidance, light
Mystery Occult
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Statistics
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Str 11, Dex 17, Con 19, Int 16, Wis 16, Cha 20
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13
Feats Improved Initiative
Traits reactionary, sacred conduit, touched by divinity
Skills Acrobatics -1 (-5 to jump), Bluff +9, Diplomacy +11, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Knowledge (history) +7, Knowledge (planes) +7, Knowledge (religion) +7, Use Magic Device +9; Racial Modifiers +2 Diplomacy
Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Sylvan
SQ oracle's curse (legalistic), revelation (brain drain), vow to self
Combat Gear alchemist's fire (2); Other Gear scale mail, crossbow bolts (30), light crossbow, longspear, bedroll, blanket, flint and steel, waterskin, 14 gp, 4 sp
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Special Abilities
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Brain Drain (1d4 damage, 5 rounds, 1/day, DC 15) (Su) Foe in 100 ft makes Will save or takes 1d4/lvl and you make knowledge check w/ their modifier
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Energy Resistance, Acid (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Acid attacks.
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Legalistic The shackles of Hell impose savage consequences should you violate a covenant, but also imbue you with remarkable guile. Whenever you break your word (either purposefully or unintentionally), you become sickened for 24 hours or until you meet your ob
Vow to Self (1/day) +4 morale bonus to one role to keep a promise.

Lily Taharial was involved in magic from a young age, being apprenticed out to an elderly mage due to her parents vanishing just after she was born. Aria didn’t know where they went, or even if they are still alive – she was brought up in a temple of Iomadae, but it became clear the girl had some magical ability but it was uncontrolled. The church was prepared to offer up its own teachers, but an elderly man showed up claiming he was a relative, as well as skilled in the magical arts and would take responsibility for her. Lily looked up to her master, not only for giving her shelter, as well as guiding her through her curse, but also for help advancing her abilities through her sacred mystery, Occult, the ability to see ghosts. Try as Lily might, she couldn’t find her parents in the spirit world, although her abilities progressed unrestricted.

Life could very well have continued on like this for some time, had Lily not found discovered a sheaf of papers hidden in her masters study, off limits even in the best of circumstances. Inscribed within it, were instructions given by a demon, concerning her master and Lily herself. The papers detailed that the masters student should progress to mastering the possessive abilities of ghosts for their own use, as well as grooming Lily for further demonic purposes. Furious, Lily confronted her master, lashing out with a mental assault, and catching her master by surprise; she broke into his mind and discovered the relevant memories, proving the information was accurate. Leaving her former master shrieking in agony, she fled that very night, running off alone.

Isolated in the world, Lily struggled, as frequent use of her oracle skills reminded her that she could still be on the path that her master (and the demon), intended. She also lacked a master to progress her studies. She returned to the church that had initially taken her in, and found food and shelter there, but turned down offers by priests there to continue her studies, terrified of her own abilities. This terror was exasperated as she began to have nightmares of demons slaughtering her parents, other times she would see herself watching impassively, or worse, breaking into the minds of innocents for her own amusement. Unwilling to embrace her powers meant that she was unable to control them, leaving Lily adrift. At a loss, she began researching demons, specifically demonic possession, deciding she wanted defence in case she ran into a demon again. Eventually, she discovered a small group of Aasimir oracles, recorded in a long ago text. They were known as the Purifiers, and they sought to counter possession or other mind controlling effects. Lily understood her path, she decided to embrace her Aasimar heritage and become a Purifier, use her own mental abilities against her enemies, and destroy all who sought mental control over an unwilling individual.

Lily’s eyes flickered open, her iris’s briefly pure white before they faded into her trademark gold. Groaning slightly, she rolled out of the bed, and glanced at the mirror. She surveyed her reflection for a moment, before sighing slightly to herself. There was no doubt about it, she looked terrible, which might have had something to due with the ramshackle “inn” she was staying at. Run down and dirty, Lily would have turned her nose up at it, but the fact was that this inn was about as good as she could afford, at least for the moment at any rate, she still had a little further in her journey to go.

Rolling out of bed, Lily rubbed her eyes, before standing and muttering a word, clutching her holy symbol as she did so. A small raincloud appeared over her head, and a light rain fell down on her, the Create Water cantrip replacing the need for a shower, something the inn currently lacked. Wringing her hair dry, Lily took stock of her surroundings, and, just as she did every morning, gestured her hand at the nearby wall. As usual, white light flared, but there was no pulse or wave, nothing to indicate that she had somehow mastered her channel while she slept.

All the research she had done pointed to the Purifier’s innate ability to channel energy, it appeared in all of the texts she had read. So why oh why had she so far been unable to generate anything close to what ability she supposedly had access to. Grumbling to herself, Lily quietly packed up her meagre belongings and headed out the door, it was time to move on, and she wasn’t going to stay in this hovel much longer.

Walking down the street, Lily ignored the eyes that tracked her movement. Being an aasimar often got her a second look, but she as used to it by now, and concentrated on attempting to project and aura of “Don’t Mess with Me”. The attempt was more than a bluff than anything else due to her limited spellcasting, but Lily hoped that some of the nastier individuals wouldn’t know this, she had enough on her plate without dealing with unwanted advances.

To her relief, Lily made it to her target without incident, and carefully opened the door, before locking it behind her. She wanted privacy for this to work, and the last thing she needed was a thug barging in while she was…distracted. Gliding through the house, Lily found the bedroom and slipped inside. The girl was already sitting up, staring at Lily when she walked in, but Lily took no notice as she crossed to the bed and sat on it, looking into the childs eyes. The spirits had told her of this girl a week ago, and she had decided to stop by and handle the situation as best as she could. Raising her hands in a non-threatening manner, Lily gently touched the girls brow before closing her eyes.

Touching the spirit realm was harder than it sounded, doing it while sleeping was simpler as for some reason, Lily could do it unconsciously. Doing it in the day, and attempting to contact a spirit through another was much harder, but Lily had decided it was worth a try. Usually, a spirit possessing a person was grounds for a call to a cleric, Lily knew several herself, but had decided that blasting this particular spirit with divine energy wasn’t really an excellent solution. Her talent wasn’t destroying, it was communication. In her minds eye, her surroundings flickered, before she appeared in a field, standing across from a young boy, standing with his head bowed. “Belor”, she murmured, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave this girl”.

Belor looked up, and Lily could tell that this image, had been crying. The boy shook his head in a mute “no”, and Lily felt a twinge of frustration. Children were often stubborn, and it seemed child spirits were much the same. Reaching a decision, Lily decided she should show the spirit that she understood perfectly, and thus launched a mental probe into the spirits mind. Previously, such a task would have given Lily a splitting headache, diving into someone’s mind was not easy, and now she was attempting to locate memories from a spirit, while possessing a human body with its own personal memories. It reminded Lily, a little of those weird looking dolls, where if you opened up one doll, there was an identical, smaller doll inside. Lily was determined though, and quickly located the relevant memories, adding them to her own.

After pausing for a moment, Lily sighed slightly, it was as she had feared, the child simply didn't want to leave without its parents. Lily saw the demon attack, saw various people die in quick flashes, including the boy, but the fate of the boy’s parents was unknown. Taking a moment to control herself, Lily tried to run through the situation as best as she could. The spirit couldn't stay, but nor would it go, and Lily lacked the power to force it out herself. The simplest solution was simply to call a cleric and blast it away, but Lily wasn't even sure it would even work. This spirit wasn't evil, it was simply holding on, refusing to go because it wanted its father and mother. Lily empathised with the entire situation, but it wasn’t going to help her, she needed a solution, and after a moment more, she found one, although it made her feel worse inside.

“Your parents have already passed on”, she lied, attempting to maintain her concentration and look of concern. She hoped she wasn’t actually lying, it was simply her best guess and besides, Belor needed to leave this girl. “I attempted to locate them before arriving here, and found them in the spirit world. They are looking for you Belor, but you cannot find them while you hold onto this girl, you remain tethered and thus, out of their reach. Let the girl go Belor, and pass on, be with your family once again”. The boy’s face glowed with happiness and hope, and Lily felt guilt slide through her, but she remained silent. The boy turned pure white, vanishing and Lily found herself alone on the field, before she slowly removed herself from the girls mind.

Blinking slightly, she looked at her patient, who was now sleeping, and then swept out of the room. She still felt nervous, the spirits memories reminding her as to the evil she would eventually face in the crusades, evil she currently had little protection against with her abilities still shaky. Lily was determined though, and besides, she still had a little more time before she arrived at her destination, time enough perhaps, for her skills to remain honed.

Akvius has spend his life on this plane an even through persecusion from his tiefling lineage, this is his home. As they say, "Fight FIRE, with FIRE!" Perhaps his ancestral ties to the oncoming hoarde will provide an answer to defeating the demons. With the prediction he received, he travels to Kenabres to lend what aid he can in the upcoming campaign.

Kavaki escaped from slavery in Cheliax and found solitude in a place that overcomes prejudice and eased the conflict in his mind over his tiefling heritage. A Tian Monastery. The monastery not only provided a home for a destitute, ostersized slave on the run, they also provided him with training. His martial arts training was more of a stepping stone toward seeking enlightenment.

He now is on a pilgrimage to confront his "inner demons". Perhaps in coming to the aid of the citizens of our plane, he can show that, just because he shares a bloodline with those that seek to destroy them, doesn't mean Kavaki and other tieflings like him are THEIR enemy also.

Meditation and suggestion from his monk teacher have brought him to Kenabres, where Kavaki home to find the path to the ultimate enlightenment.

It has been as long as she can remember that Tarren has not wanted to be a crusader and join the forces of good in conquering the hellish armies. Ever since she was a girl she has felt the call of Iomedae. Her father has been both parents to her since her mother had died giving birth to her. They didn't often speak of it but she knew he thought of her everytime he looked at her. He taught her to discipline herself and listen to the voice inside her head that she claimed to have dreams about. Her mother had been a priest of Iomedae and since her first days she was taken to be blessed by a cleric and had regularly gone to the temple to worship.

When she was old enough she was admitted to be a cleric by the church and continued her devotion to Iomedae. Following in the footsteps of her god she formed her own crusade, bringing the light to those in need. Cleansing evil and restoring hope to those suffering. Soon her eyes turned to the Worldwound after a traveling former crusader came to her city and told her his story. When she revealed her desires to her father he cried and didn't want her to go. If he lost her as well he wouldn't be able to live on. She had been in several dangers already though she kept most of the details from him. She waited as long as she could and came to him again. He had finally resigned himself and blessed her and prayed she return safely. She promised she would. Then she packed her few posessions and journeyed the long road to the north.

She stopped in Vigil and joined a group of pilgrims that were also going, Armasse was coming and it was said to be the celebration not to be missed if you were near the worldwound. She would find someone who was trying to raise a crusade and give them her full support. There was one message that she kept receiving in her dreams and it always showed her a hellish dessert just as the old crusader had described to her. In fact it was at that point that she knew where she needed to go. She could not ignore the visions.

Tarren
Aasimar Cleric 1
LG Medium Outsider(Native)
Init +4; Perception +9
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DEFENSE
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AC 20, touch 13, flatfooted 17 (+3 dex, +5 armour, +2 shield)
HP 13 (1d8+5)
Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +6
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OFFENSE
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Speed
Melee
Ranged
Cleric Spellcasting Concentration +5
Spell-like Abilities 1/day Continual Flame, Protection from Evil
Channel Positive Energy 1d6 DC 15(7/day)
Domain Powers Touch of Good(7/day), Seize the Initiative(7/day)
Orisons (DC 14) Enhanced Diplomacy, Guidance, Light, Stabilise
1st spells (DC 15) 2+1/day (D)Divine Favour, Bless, Protection from Evil
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STATISTICS
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 18, Int 15, Wis 18, Cha 18
Base Attack +0; CMB +4; CMD 18
Feats Angelic Blood
Traits Touched by Divinity, Seeker, Omen, Deft Dodger
Drawback
Favoured Class Cleric +1HP
Skills(4 per level) *only shows class skills*
0 Appraise +2
0 Craft +2
1 Diplomacy +8
0 Heal +4
1 Intimidate +11
0 Knowledge (arcana) +2
0 Knowledge (history) +2
0 Knowledge (nobility) +2
0 Knowledge (planes) +2
0 Knowledge (religion) +2
0 Linguistics +2
1 Perception +9
0 Profession +4
1 Sense Motive +10
0 Spellcraft +2
ACP -6
Languages Common, Celestial, Dwarven, Elven.
Equipment Silver Holy Symbol of Iomedae w/compartment(1lb), Scalemail(30lbs), Heavy Steel Shield(15lbs), Longsword(4lbs), Masterwork Backpack(4lbs), Spell Component Pouch(2lbs), Holy Text of Iomedae(3lbs), Potion of Cure Light Wounds, Flask of Holy Water(1lb), Explorer's Outfit(8lbs), Belt Pouch(.5lb), Spring Loaded Wrist Sheath(1lb), Cold Iron Dagger(1lb).
Current encumberance 70 lbs (light < 100lbs; medium 101-200lbs; heavy 201-300lbs)
Money 0gp
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Weapon and Armour Clerics are proficient with all simple weapons, light armor, medium armor, and shields (except tower shields). Clerics are also proficient with the favored weapon of their deities.
Lawful Good Aura(Ex) A cleric of a chaotic, evil, good, or lawful deity has a particularly powerful aura corresponding to the deity's alignment (see detect evil for details).
Bonus Languages A cleric's bonus language options include Celestial, Abyssal, and Infernal (the languages of good, chaotic evil, and lawful evil outsiders, respectively). These choices are in addition to the bonus languages available to the character because of her race.
Spontaneous Casting A good cleric can channel stored spell energy into healing spells that she did not prepare ahead of time. The cleric can “lose” any prepared spell that is not an orison or domain spell in order to cast any cure spell of the same spell level or lower (a cure spell is any spell with “cure” in its name).
Archon Domain
Touch of Good(Sp) You can touch a creature as a standard action, granting a sacred bonus on attack rolls, skill checks, ability checks, and saving throws equal to half your cleric level (minimum 1) for 1 round. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Domain Spells 1st—divine favour, 2nd—align weapon (good only), 3rd—prayer, 4th—holy smite, 5th—dispel evil, 6th—planar ally (archons only), 7th—holy word, 8th—holy aura, 9th—summon monster IX (good spell only).
Tactics Domain
Seize the Initiative(Sp) Whenever you and your allies roll for initiative, you can grant one ally within 30 feet the ability to roll twice and take either result. This decision is made before results are revealed. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Domain Spells 1st—magic weapon, 2nd—aid, 3rd—magic vestment, 4th—divine power, 5th—greater command, 6th—blade barrier, 7th—power word blind, 8th—greater planar ally, 9th—power word kill.
Channel Energy(Su) 1d6 Regardless of alignment, any cleric can release a wave of energy by channeling the power of her faith through her holy (or unholy) symbol. This energy can be used to cause or heal damage, depending on the type of energy channeled and the creatures targeted.

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RACIAL TRAITS AND FEATS
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Touched by Divinity(Protection from Evil) You begin play with a silver holy symbol of your chosen deity for free. In addition, choose one domain associated with your chosen deity. You gain the use of that domain’s 1st-level domain spell as a spell-like ability usable once per day (CL equals your character level).
Celestial Resistance Aasimars have acid resistance 5, cold resistance 5, and electricity resistance 5.
Skilled Aasimar have a +2 racial bonus on Intimidate and Sense Motive checks.
Spell-like Ability Aasimars can use continual flame once per day as a spell-like ability (caster level equal to the aasimar's class level).
Darkvision Aasimar have darkvision 60 ft. (they can see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.)
Good Influence You gain a +1 trait bonus on Diplomacy checks when attempting to persuade a nongood creature to make a decision that benefits the cause of good, and when persuading a nonlawful creature to make a decision in line with the laws of the region.
Lantern Spirit You feel a strange sense of nostalgia whenever you use your continual flame spell-like ability, and can use it as a move action instead of a standard action.
Angelic Blood You gain a +2 bonus on saving throws against effects with the evil descriptor and on Constitution checks to stabilize when you are reduced to negative hit points (but not dead). Furthermore, each time you take bleed or blood drain damage, each undead creature or creature with the evil subtype that is currently adjacent to you also takes 1 point of damage.

Tehina's origin is an odd one, something to be expected from one of the few Samsaran her side of the Crown of the World.

Her father actually was an Aasimar from across the Crown, hailing from far Tianjing where he was trained in fighting the Qlippoth madness that sometimes seeps through to the material plane there and as such was brought into the Riftwardens as an expert on the Qlippoth.

Her mother on the other hand was a local girl, born and raised in Kenabres she grew up with the demonic threat looming over her head. As such it came only natural to her that she'd grow up to combat it's evils, though she always thought it would be as a crusader, not as a Riftwarden.

When the two were introduced to each other it was love at first sight. Tehina's father had been brought over to Kenabres to share what he knew about the Abyss itself as it was slowly creeping into the Worldwound. Within half a year the couple was married and little Tehina was on her way. Her birth shocked her mother, who had never seen a Samsaran before, but her father, having worked with Samsaran's in the past, knew what she was and assured her mother that things would all be fine.

Sadly they were not and Tehina's parents vanished about a month later, missing in action in the Worldwound, and Tehina heard all these stories from her aunt when she was old enough.

Not unlike her mother, Tehina grew up with the threat of the Worldwound looming over her. Though very much unlike her mother she also had ancient memories plaguing her. Memories of endless battles with powerful fiends of all kinds would come up in her dreams. For some reason the dreams slowly shifted to show more losing battles as she grew older as if foreshadowing what would happen at the Worldwound. This sense of impending doom only pushed her to work harder in order to protect those she cared about. When she heard her parent's story this feeling only became stronger.

It was this desire to remove the demonic taint from the Material Plane combined with a profound arcane talent that attracted the attention of her patron, a powerful Bythos Aeon. Knowing full well that going against the planar transgressions was beyond it's capabilities it contacted her, seeking an ally in the matter. The fact that it somehow felt the need to contact a mortal for this was a strange thing, but apparently it was what fate dictated.

He first appeared before her in one of her dreams, brushing aside the visions of old battlefields. Instead he showed her other visions of her many past lives, short snippets of happy times. The last visions showed her in her current life, abruptly ended as her soul was torn from her body by a demon and the cycle of reincarnation was ended. He then offered her an alternate vision of herself closing the rift. This would also be an end to her reincarnation cycle but it showed her how she ascended beyond, reaching her final goal instead of being consumed wholly.
Without a moment of doubt Tehina chose the second vision and their deal was sealed. The next morning Tehina found a small black bird sitting on the end of her bed accompanied by the simple vision of her new Aeon patron petting the bird, a strange sight but the message was clear.

Since then Tehina has been studying harder than ever before, though as of yet she is still unsure how she was supposed to fulfil her end of the bargain she had made.

The son of a half-orc crusader and a Kellid from the Gate district of Kenebres, it was only natural that Droosch Two-Blood would inherit the ability to touch the spirit world – and it could touch him. While most would interpret shamanism as being witchcraft with a different name, a father in the crusades helped shield his son (and his wife) from the gaze of the inquisitors.

The gift was not always passed down perfectly to each generation, but Droosch nevertheless inherited. As he grew older, Droosch began to hear from his mother stories – stories that she heard as a child, of spirits of the tundra speaking to the seers of old Sarkoris. The spirits of the cold north, would greatly desire the erasure of the abominations that now walk the land. Soon, the voices he heard telling this story, were not his mother’s, but various entities beseeching him to help the crusade.

Droosch stands an even 6’0”, and while his orcish heritage is rather apparent – skin a mottled green, and lower tusks – his figure is more slight, and proportioned to that of a human’s. Dark brown eyes gaze out from beneath his lanky, thick black hair. He’s a generally agreeable person, though he finds some of the Mendevian crusaders a bit pompous – even if they’re sorely needed, mainly due to the “witch hunts”.

Droosch walked down the cobbled streets of Kennebres, taking in the cold morning air. He stopped, looking up at the bruised, purple sky. All things considered – being about spitting distance from a literal Apocalypse on Golarion – a purple sky seemed rather quaint. Then, he paused an gave a quiet growl.

Another thing had grasped the half-orc’s attention: sitting on the roof, about 20 feet above him, was a stark white fox peering down at him. Taking out the consideration that a fox sitting that high up, one may noticed that the canine’s coat seemed to shimmer, slightly showing off a scattering of star and constellations.

Looking around briefly, and seeing no one around, he spoke to the fox. ”Krish, what are you doing up there? What would the Iomedeans think about this?” Krish gave a slight yawn, and stepped off the roof. About half way down, he began to glow, and then slowly floated downwards. He looked up at Droosch, and the other felt a cold breeze as the fox opened his mouth. TOLC, the wind spoke. Droosch frowned – the spirits would speak through Krish at times, but not often.

Droosch gave a slight shiver. It wasn’t the cold, nor from Krish’s word. No, something else felt off. He gazed back at the sky again, feeling the chill.