GM Alice's Wrath of the Righteous

Game Master Alice Margatroid

Komana came into Oppara as part of a group of Iomedite crusaders and acolytes who came to pay respects at Aroden's temple while on their way to the Worldwound. He met her by chance and he was instantly smitten. In his eyes she burned with the ferocity of a dragon's flame and even in the short number of days that the crusaders were in Oppara, they grew close.

At Komana's urgings, Gethric said farewell to his parents and home and joined her upon the crusdae to the Worldwound. When they arrived there Komana continued her training and Gethric became one of the town guard. He was deeply in love with her and within a year of arriving they were married. Through all though, it was always his wife who was the firebrand and driving force behind their ongoing presence in Kenabres and commitment to the fight against the demons.

Then with swift and sudden ferocity and fury…. all was changed… flame and destruction came to Kenabres. Gethric was in the lower city when the Storm King came, assaulting the wardstone… but his mind turned first to his wife, who would likely be one of the first wave to rush and defend the city against attack.

Pressing through the throng of people that were fleeing, Gethric could only come upon the battlefield after the blood was spent and swords were stilled. There he found his wife dead and something broke within him. Depression became his companion and his heart hardened to granite. He oft thought of joining Komana within Pharasma’s boneyard… but could not.

Solace was found in repetition, and some meaning in continuing upon the crusade in his fallen wife’s name... though even then it was a hollow feeling. Years have passed, others have come and gone... but Gethric remains - stoic and resolute.

The best and brightest of the Firehammers chose to stay and fight in their tunnels. Children and the elderly were led out of the mountain by secret tunnels, and made their way, like so many other refugees, to Kenabres. Only a few warriors accompanied the non-combatants, just enough to serve as an escort. One of these warriors was Aurica's mother, Galna, who was pregnant at the time-- the only reason she agreed to leave her husband and the rest of their people.

In Kenabres, Galna gave birth to Aurica's (half-)brother, Jormur, named after their lost citadel. Galna never remarried, but in her later years she found companionship with another dwarven refugee, a dwarf who himself had been crippled in the wars against the demon, and now served the war effort by crafting arms and armor for the crusaders. This was Aurica's father, Malkus.

It came as a surprise to both Galna and Malkus when Galna again found herself pregnant: dwarves are not known for a high rate of fecundity, and she was past the age at which dwarves often bear children. Thirty years seperate Aurica and her older brother Jormur, and their relationship has always been more that of uncle and niece than brother and sister.

From Galna, Aurica learned of the glories of the past, and the sacrifices and bravery of the dwarves of Jormurdun. From Malkus, she learned her way around a forge, but also learned the personal cost of war with the demons-- not just death, but the potential to leave someone crippled in body and soul. As for Jormur: Aurica's older brother was her hero, growing up-- a front-line fighter against the demons, a brave warrior who represented the best of traditional dwarven warrior culture.

When Aurica came of age, she sought to follow in his footsteps, only to have her mother, father, and brother all stand in her way, with good intentions-- she was the younger sibling and the daughter: it was therefore incumbent on her to make sure the family name lived on, to bear children. For years, Aurica tried to honor her family's wishes, and did not go forth to the front lines: she served in the temples instead, helping tend to an endless parade of the dead (those few who were lucky enough to have their bodies brought back from the front lines).

But her spirit chafed at this, and in time, Aurica finally talked her way into being allowed to do her duty and join the Kenabres troops. She was permitted to join some of the nearer patrols, and quickly distinguished herself by her hardiness in the brutal terrain, her keen senses, and a sense of the spiritual landscape around her that served her well with the first demons her patrol fought. She is most often used as a scout, helping to gather information for whatever patrol squad she is assigned to, and her captains speak well of her to her anxious family.

That said, she's still a relatively young and green recruit. She hasn't yet known a truly pitched battle with the horrors of hell, and she both longs for and dreads that day: hoping to prove herself, and at the same time, fearful she may disappoint her family or let down her comrades.

In other ways, she is not: life in Kenabres has led to a necessarily multi-cultural outlook on life. Aurica has nothing of the usual dwarven prejudice against those with orc blood: she's known too many half-orc warriors who have served bravely in the Crusades, and she learned much of tracking from elves. She is open-minded for a dwarf-- willing to work even with the Hellknights who also battle the Abyssal horde-- but draws a hard line against those of demonic blood.

Where most dwarves (and definitely her brother) seem very serious to non-dwarves, Aurica has a rather broad sense of humor, again shaped by her contact with many people. Occasionally this humor strikes those who are new to Kenabres as very inappropriate, given the gravity of their cause, but most veterans of the war recognize Aurica's sense of humor as the gallows-humor that develops only in those who live always in the shadow of death. Nothing is sacred when death can come at any time, and when any excuse for a laugh is a precious thing. Aurica fights hard-- and parties hard, when the opportunity presents itself.

Aurica believes it is her heritage and duty to battle demons, and someday to hopefully reclaim Jormurdun for her people, but one day and one battle at a time. She is usually level-headed, pragmatic, and understands the value of a strategic retreat. The demons will still be there tomorrow.

Regarding Yokai Hunter: the favored enemy list is restricted, and allows only 'outsider (native)' as an option when it comes to outsiders. I'm not sure how restrictive that actually would be in play? As in, I don't know if the Worldwound demons are usually considered to qualify for that. I like the flavor of Yokai Hunter, but if the 'native' thing wouldn't apply to the usual Worldwound demon, I'll go with straight ranger instead.

He had gone to the bar because the famed Andoran elven singer Kylita Evertore was to be performing. Drakra figured he would have some fun, for what is more fun than getting under the skin of a performer and making them lose their train of thought. He never meant to harm anyone, but it was just so much fun. And, he had done this so many time over the years that he could hardly recall them all.

Usually, the end result was a really annoyed performer. And, once the performer lost its cool, Drakra would cheerfully introduce himself to the owner of the establishment and then step in to finish the performance, and collect the evenings purse.

Last night, now it was coming back to him. Last night the elf must have had bodyguards somewhere. You could see it in her eyes when he started to mock her. Oh, she was so uppity. He knew the type. With her perfect wardrobe and her picture perfect hair. So, Drakra had started tossing the insults. Well, it was about a minute later. He could see the red welling in the elf’s cheeks and flaring at her perfect cheekbones. Then suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. When Drakra turned, all he saw was a giant fist.

So, now here he lies, with the refuse of last night’s revelry. There were more people than usual in Kenabres because of the festival today, so there was a lot of refuse. He knew he had to get back to his home and change out of the dirty clothes he was wearing. Not that he really cared what he looked like, but it was hard to make honest money smelling like old ale and rotten food.

With that, Drakra stood up, and winced at the pain in his shoulder. Darn bodyguard must have dragged me by the arm. Managing to get his feet, he whispered a prayer to Shelyn and then felt the healing magic flow through him, shrinking the bump on his head and making his shoulder stop hurting. He then made his way back to the small apartment he had been renting for the past several years.

Once he got to the apartment, he looked about at his meager belongings. His journal, a small lyre, a rather worn suit of leather armor and a longsword. The sword and armor were from when he had joined the Third Crusade. What a mockery that had been. Fortunately, he had been so useless that when the corrupt cultists had led the battalion into an ambush, he had been completely missed.

Drakra though again: Perhaps it is time I tried my hand at this fight again. Somewhere in that demon cursed land must be a portal to my home. A portal back to Greyhawk.

----

Perhaps, a little of the earlier history of Drakra would be beneficial. Drakra is not from Mendev, or the Inner Sea, or even Golarian. He was born in the Kron Hills a few days ride from the city of Greyhawk. The greatest city in the world, just ask him. The Kron Hills are full of gnomes, similar, but not the same as those in Golarian. Gnomes from his home live in small homes in hilly and wooded lands. They are great farmers and work well with animals. But, Drakra was not interested in staying near home, he wanted to wander far and wide, to see all that the world had to offer. Little did he know at that time just how big the world was, or that there were other worlds similar to Greyhawk. As a young gnome, he travelled to Greyhawk and learned to entertain the masses, and he was quite good at it. He was not rich, but made enough to get a nice home and nice food.

One night, after performing at a local tavern, he was walking home whistling a snappy tune when he felt a thunk on his head. When he awoke, he was on a boat. Or at least he assumed he was as he could hear the sloshing water and feel the sway of the waves, which made him nauseous. He lay there for what seemed like forever. Eventually, he could see light through cracks above him and assumed that he was tied up in the hold. A few hours later, the boat, really more of a barge, docked and he was roughly dragged from the hold and tossed onto a wagon by two thuggish humans.

Over the next several days, he travelled north in the wagon. He became very frightened hearing the people driving the wagon speak. They spoke in a hissing evil tongue, one he knew to be the language of demons. It was then that the fear took over. He knew what lay north of the Nyr Dyv. The land of Iuz, Iuz the Old. The land of the demon ruler of that accursed land. He was sure that he was being taken there. Why, Drakra did not know. All he knew was that he had to escape, he had to flee.

For three days he starved in the back of the wagon. At night, the captors left him there while they slept. But, he was so tightly bound, that he could not free himself. Finally, on the fourth day, the covers were removed and as he blinked, he saw he was in a small town, or what was once a town for now it was overrun and destroyed. Goblins seemed to live in most the homes and the temple to some unknown deity had been desecrated and covered in blood with skulls and more unthinkable things hung from the minarets and carvings.

He was roughly taken inside and tossed onto the altar, he knew that his death was imminent. Then, suddenly, he heard a rushing sound and found himself encased in fire which burned him to the soul. He blacked out and when he awoke, he was lying beneath a fir tree which was scorched and still smoldering as though struck by lightning. His hands and face were burned and his whole body ached. Not knowing what had happened to his captors or their demonic minions, he pulled himself up and began to sneak south, hoping against hope that he would find the Nyr Dyv and some way of returning to Greyhawk.

For three days, he travelled in the light, hiding and sleeping at night. Twice he saw what he was sure were demons. Strange malformed creatures with horns and long clawed hands. When he saw them, he quickly hid and prayed. Then, on the fourth day, with his stomach rumbling, he heard a sound behind him, like a cracking of a branch. He turned and there, almost invisible, was a woman garbed in green-brown armor with a bow in hand. The woman told him that he was behind enemy lines, and that she would help him back to Kenabres.

Drakra had never heard of Kenabres, but any place was better than the demon infested lands of Iuz. The woman give him some rations and water which he hungrily gobbled down. Then, she used magic to heal his wounds saying a prayer to some deity named Shelyn as she did. Although not full healed, most of his wounds closed and Drakra was able to follow the woman. While she spoke little, she did talk with him. What he found most strange was that her accent was unlike any he had ever heard before. Whereas in Greyhawk the sound “r” is rolled off the tongue, her accent did not. She also made a strange “th” sound which he had rarely heard in Greyhawk except from people from far distant lands.

When Drakra asked the woman her name, she told him simply that she was a guardian of the weak, but did not tell him her name. When he asked about her accent, she told him it was the common tongue of the nation of Taldar, a nation he had never heard of before.

Finally, after another day of traveling, and occasionally hiding when his savior detected enemies in the area, they crossed what she called the wardstone boundary. Shortly thereafter, his sensitive nose detected the smell of wood smoke and cooking food. After going around the side of a hill, there before him was a town, no, a city. It was a pittance compared to Greyhawk, but still a decent city. The woman told him that she rarely entered the city, but gave him the name of a good inn and a few coins to find food and lodging. She then bid him farewell and turned to return to the abyssal land from which she had saved him.

It did not take long for Drakra to determine that he was no longer in Greyhawk. The temples and deities were different here. The accents were different. Even the other gnomes, few though they were, were different. However, not knowing how he had arrived here, Drakra set forth to learn of this land, and hopefully determine how to return from whence he came.

This was nearly fifty years ago. Since that time, Drakra has undergone numerous changes. For a time, he believed he would be a crusader to fight against the demons in what the locals call the Worldwound to find a way back home. He joined the Third Crusade, only to see it destroyed from within by demonic supporters. He has also had dark periods in which he has contemplated throwing himself upon his own dagger. Always, however, there has been two constants that has brought him back. The first is a desire to return to his true home, Greyhawk and the Kron Hills. And the second is an ever growing love of the deity Shelyn, patron of the arts and beautiful things.

For the majority of the past fifty years, Drakra has wandered the lands of what is called the Inner Sea. He has seen many things and entertained many people. Unfortunately, he often falls into dark and brooding moods during which his entertaining frequently causes listeners to become less than enthused with him. To say that he has made an art out of sarcasm and mockery is an understatement. He does not use these tools to harm, but simply as a way of expressing himself and making a living, even if not all would approve of his tactics.

Which brings us back to the present. Three months ago, he finally returned to Kenabres. Rumors had been rampant throughout the Inner Sea that a new Fifth Crusade was to be undertaken. Although he is still lacks the strength to fight demons, he has learned new skills such as healing and the ability to create deceiving illusions which he believes will aid him on the crusade.

----

Suddenly, Drakra realizes that it is nearly noon. How long had he been contemplating how he got here. Quickly, Drakra puts on his armor and straps on his sword. He then tenderly strokes his lyre before putting it in a pack. Everyone needs some good music to liven their spirits sometime. He still marveled that in all his years of travel, and being abducted by demons, that the old lyre had survived and remained with him. Once equipped, he looks about his apartment once more, unsure if, or when he will return. Then, he turns and heads out to see if there are any crusader leaders looking for some morale boosting songs today.

Then Marleeri is born... and little changes. She's a beautiful, human, baby girl. Her parents were stressed before the birth, but are relieved. They live happily for a few years, with Marleeri's mother settling down. She still occasionally leaves for business. Marleeri's father tries to teach her magic, but she has no aptitude for it. She grows incredibly slowly.

On her 6th birthday, disaster strikes. Scales grow from Marleeri's flesh around her hands and feet, a sinuous tail extends from her spine, and a small pair of horns erupts from her brow- she is clearly a tiefling, though her demonic nature has manifested late. Her mother is out of town, and the superstitious villagers are horrified. Marleeri is sequestered away, and her father is taken by a mob, tried for dallying with demons, and promptly executed. Marleeri is left imprisoned while they decide what to do with the abyssal child. Her mother returns, and learns about what happened in her absence. In a rage she abandons her disguise and reveals herself to be a succubus. She reclaims her child, and in the process leaves a large portion of the town in flames.

But Marleeri's mother is afraid now. Her child has been damaged, her innocence tainted by the murder of her father and the sight of her mother killing and destroying. She doesn't think she can be a good mother alone, so she leaves Marleeri with the only people she can trust to teach her daughter properly, and hopefully not to hate her for what she had done, but to understand her; the heretical cult of Nocticula.

• Life is to be enjoyed to its fullest. Boundaries are important, but must serve a purpose.
  
• Harming others, especially for one's own enjoyment, is unacceptable. Harm must be tempered with a pure purpose.
  
• All beings possess a spark of good in their heart; they simply must be willing to draw it out.
  
• Darkness can conceal good as easily as it conceals evil.
  

She is willing to grant mercy to almost anyone, but understands the regrettable necessity of fighting and killing. Marleeri is touchy about people 'slandering' Nocticula, and no longer tells people what deity she serves unless asked directly. She's affectionate with close friends, and thinks of physical contact as a good way to bond. Superstition frustrates and annoys her. Marleeri knows she's no scholar, but still wants to learn about the world and understand things that perplex or confuse her.

Knows little about the outside world. She had the opportunity to read about it and learn, but never got around to it. On one of the rare occasions she ventured far from the Cult, she lost an eye to a group of thugs who targeted her for being a tiefling.

"The demons of the Worldwound have crossed a grave line. They have an infinite world to themselves, but they greedily claim what is rightfully Sarkoris'. They slaughter indiscriminately, they seek to corrupt the minds of the righteous, and they continually march towards future, greater evils. They must be stopped- and if my words cannot halt them, then my blade will. I go with fury in my heart, but mercy in my soul."

"Nocticula has a reputation as a terrible force of evil. As the first of the succubi, one would certainly expect so. But her actions do not speak to me as those of one committed to destruction and oppression. She fights the other demon lords, slaying them and imprisoning their souls where they cannot be recovered, and according to my knowledge strives for redemption. To be better than her demonic identity would suggest, to feel the intrinsic desire to make others feel better. Much must be done for a being forged of evil to find redemption- but if a demon lord can seek it, I cannot deny it to anyone."

"You're an all powerful wizard, hm? You watch my back and maybe when this is all over we can play 'Binder and Demon'."

However, in 4600 AR, the Abyss began to open. Voren fled with everyone else, getting separated and joining other refugees at every turn. He kept his hood and cloak on, fearing what would to him happen in these trying times. Eventually, he found himself in the Shudderwood. Worn and weary, he continued to flee from the demons that attacked. However, he eventually collapsed, darkness taking hold.

Voren eventually woke. He stumbled around, coming across the untainted fey of the woods. He was shocked to learn that the year was 4707 AR, at the tail end of the Fourth Mendevian Crusade. They explained that he was in a “fey slumber” that kept him safe and in a odd type of stasis. They decided to take him in due to a strange glowing marking that encompassed his body that marked him as having some connection to the First World, believing that the marking allowed him to be in the fey slumber. He continued his magical training under the fey, though it was now referred to as witchcraft. He wandered into the various towns in Mendev and Ustalav to sell the alchemic items that he’s crafted and buy supplies, careful and jumpy of the townsfolk and the witch hunts that both countries participate in due to Mendev’s close proximity of the Worldwound and Ustalav’s superstitious mentality.

Throughout his life, Voren studied and researched another peculiar mark on his arm. He often had to go into towns and use the libraries. He poured over various books with Ayne, his familiar and one of his few friends.

When Voren turned 21, he eventually found out the peculiar birthmark was what was know as a Sign of the Seeker’s Spiral, a mark of the Riftwardens. However, Voren couldn’t remember hearing about such a group in 4600 AR.

Coming to the conclusion that his birth parents are most likely dead, he realizes that the one who killed them must still be alive. He decided to head to the Worldwound to investigate and the upcoming Crusade provided the perfect opportunity. Donning his heaviest and most concealing robes, he made his way to Kenabres. Reaching the town, he decided to participate in Armasse, as an opportunity to learn about the current state of the World, the Worldwound, the current norms of society, and to have some fun before pouring into his work.