Getting the Band Back Together (Inactive)

Game Master Mowque

Hector had just pushed aside his covers to throw another log on the fire when he heard a faint crash and a shout. It had come from his father’s chambers. Perhaps age was getting to the old man and he had stumbled into something or taken a fall? Even as he considered the possibilities his feet had taken him to the door of his father’s chambers.

The first thing he noticed upon entering his father’s chambers was the chill. The fire was out and the coverings of the window blown open. His eyes saw his father next, but his mind refused to comprehend. Red, blood red… a blood red pool about his father who was propped against the wall next to his desk, head resting on his chest. The blood came from a wound at Connac’s side from which a dagger protruded. Hector dropped to his knees at his father’s side with a moan of anguish. “Father?” his voice barely a whisper, as though asking the question too loudly would be the end of the man. Connac’s head bolted back and he stared into Hector’s eyes, with those fierce eyes that had been missing when Hector arrived home. Suddenly his hand was in Hector’s, grasping it tightly. With a shuddering breath and a gasp Connac chokes out his final words, “My son… Get the Band back together.” Hector pressed his forehead to his father’s with unshed tears gleaming in his eyes, “Of course father, whatever you ask.” The gravity of the moment brought a choked sob to Hector’s throat. His father would die here, an assassin’s blade in his side and a final wish on his lips. It was only after the final breath left his father’s lungs that Hector’s thoughts truly turned to the assailant and the open window. With a start he leapt from his father’s side and to the window. Looking for evidence of the unknown assassin. Looking out into the night Hector saw something that made his blood run cold. A figure stood in the courtyard, watching the window, as though waiting for Hector to find his father, to find the man the assassin had murdered. Hector tried to form the words to shout, but a blink of his eyes and the figure was gone.

It is unfortunate that Nicholas does not recall one wit of this. His mother died when he was young, too young to remember. His first memory is not of a smile or a song but of the bleak reality of the orphanage where he lived. Or rather... a conversation he overheard when he was left there.

There were few children here. The town was a peaceful place. Accidents that happened normally left children with a single parent or friends or neighbors. Despite having friends and neighbors both, none took in Nicholas, and so he was brought here.

He remembered staring out a window wondering where he was. Confused, he looked for a familiar face, and saw two. One, the old priest on the hill and the second the owner of the bar where his mother worked. Not that Nicholas knew at the time who they were other then friendly.

They weren't so friendly this time though. They were huddled together. Nicholas moved closer, curious to hear what they were saying.

'Tis a shame that... to die so young...' The Priest said, his head hung low.

'Is it true?' The bar owner demanded, 'Have they still not caught the monster who did it?'

'Yes... it is true... Her killer runs free to this day. If only the boys father were here. He might have been able to do something.'

'That deadbeat probably doesn't even know he has a son.'

At the time, Nicholas did not understand. All he knew was that he was lonely and wanted his mother. He walked forward and asked where she was. The two adults turned away, their faces filled with shame.

For two years Nicholas stayed at that church, at that orphanage. The single priest who took care of it, a man of Sarenrae, did his best to teach and care for the boy. But there was something missing and the longer it stayed missing the more it hurt. It wasn't until She came that he knew what it was.

She was older, grey haired and stone faced. She came to the church and spoke to the priest. At first they argued. Nicholas had long learned to respect the older mans privacy. Naturally, he was close by listening as soon as possible. Unfortunately the conversation was over by the time he had snuck into position. Then the woman marched right toward where he hid.

'I am your grandmother. I am here to take you.'

Family? Nicholas hadn't know he had any left. The idea scared him but also excited him. He went along willingly, though at his age it was not like he had a choice. The last thing he saw was the man who had spent the last two years caring for him mournfully waving at him. At the time Nicholas did not understand but he learned quickly.

She was taking him away from the town, to the edge of the deserts! They traveled long and hard and by the end of it Nicholas had never been so fit nor so tired. It was only the beginning though. When they arrived at their destination, Nicholas was immediately put to work. Hard work. At first he complained but he learned quickly what that got him. More weeks passed and each day Nicholas felt worse then the last...

Until he didn't. The lifting, carrying, pushing and pulling had slowly but surely built muscle upon his young body. When the tasks set before him stopped hurting, when the physical exertion was almost fun, that was when things got worse again. He went from labor to training. He was taught to move silently, taught to fight with any number of blades and even taught some small magics.

It wasn't until a year had pass, exactly, that an explanation was offered. Nicholas was a hero. He had been born of a great man and he would go on to do great things. He needed to learn, to be prepared, because the mission ahead of him would be hard and harsh and bloody. Nicholas, who had only ever heard of his father in whispered, harsh words, who could not recall even his mothers smile, drank in this story from his Grandmother like a boy dying of thirst.

What was his mission he asked?

For a long while his Grandmother remained silent, as if weighing whether to tell him. Finally she said in a low voice, a whisper that feared being over heard, 'Your mission is both grand and personal. You must find the one who killed your mother, who has done great harm to others, who yet pretends to be a hero...'

'You must find Connac Aevell... and you must kill him.'

Knowing the truth made it easier. He saw to it that his Grandmother never regretted telling him. What had been desperate attempts at trying to survive the training before became unbridled focus and determination. He no longer learned, he became. Every lesson taught was something he absorbed and in time, in time, he grew.

The day came on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. Connac Aevell had been found. He needed to go there, needed to take the mans life. His Grandmother did not wish him luck or well but she did not need too. She gifted him supplies and that was all he needed from her to know that she wanted his success.

Nicholas set off toward the distant town. For the first time in his life he left the desert. It was during this journey that he began to realize just how strange he was. Not just his darker skin, which stood out amongst the many paler folk of the forests and plains, but his skill as well. As he moved he did some good deeds along the way. If his Grandmother were there to ask he would have told her it was to stay in practice but in truth he simply liked helping people.

His journey came to an end all too soon though. He found where Connac was and proceeded to study the mans every movement. He waited in the shadows until the right moment to strike. He planned out of his every move, including how to escape.

He lay in wait... and then he struck!

Only to be rebuffed. The man moved with speed Nicholas could not match, diving aside and drawing his own blade in response. The moment was gone but the mission was still on so Nicholas pressed silently.

Connac did not remain silent though. 'Who are you? You seem familiar.' He called, receiving no answer. "A bit young to be an assassin don't you think?'

Nicholas' only reply was a blade to the man's heart, which was parried with some skill. The bard tried again and again and though his pleas sounded earnest the young man refused to give in. His Grandmother had told him the truth, told him that Connac was a liar and a deceiver that could not be trusted. Nicholas was losing though. He needed to make an opening. His mind came up with a way and he charged, yelling out for the first time, 'For Riya Shirai! For my mother!'

Whether or not Connac recognized the name was uncertain but the man was clearly stunned by the shout. His blade was already in place to parry a strike from the side and so in his surprised state he failed to move in time to stop the dagger to his gut. That was when Nicholas acted, shifting out of the visible range. It was only for a moment but in that moment the young man was able to reposition himself without the Connac being able to counter. It meant Nicholas impaling himself on the blade but if it meant the death of such a wicked man then it would be worth his own life.

He felt the pain and felt his bloody leave him. He did not feel himself fall, though. One moment he was standing, smiling, and the next he was on the ground bleeding to death. Connac had let go of his sword. He could feel it still in his gut. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The pain was all he could feel as he started to drift away.

And then... and then...

And then the pain receded. Was he dying? Probably. Why else would the pain ebb? Nicholas did not fight it. He let himself be pulled into the painless void... Only to find that it was not a void, not devoid of sensation. He still felt pain, still felt exhaustion, but it was simply less. Nicholas fought to open his eyes, fought to discover who was saving him. Had his Grandmother found him? Was it...

His eyes opened. The sun hurt but he ignored the light stabbing into his eyes and tried to focus on the silhouette hovering over him. Who? Who could it... Connac? Connac Aevell? Indeed it was. The finely dressed man loomed over him, his expression full of horror and worry. His hand was pressed down into Nicholas' side and it glowed with a gentle, bright light. 'Come on now kid, don't die on me. There's no way in hells I'm going to let Shirai's kid die...'

Nicholas lost consciousness then. It was hard to say if it was the confusion of being saved by the man he had come to kill or simply the pain he was in but either way he was gone. When he awoke, it was to a familiar place, though only thanks to his weeks of studying Connac. The mans home. He was in a guest bed, wearing simple garb. His weapons were no where to be seen but he was not chained or restrained in anyway.

Tentatively he made his way out of the room and down the stairs. There, drinking what smelled like some strong ale, was Connac. He looked up and the mix of emotions on his face was hard to read. Finally he settled on a polite smile. 'Welcome back. You look... well you look like you recently impaled yourself on a sword but I'm sure you'll bounce right back soon enough.'

'I... I don't understand.'

'Sit. We... need to talk.'

And so Nicholas sat. And so Connac explained what he knew. Years ago, thirteen years ago in fact, he was in a desert with a group of friends. They were resting then. Their journey had been hard thus far. Or at least Connac assumed they were. As drunk as he tried to be it was hard to recall. It was there, during one of his nightly binges, that he met a woman with a voice that surpassed his own and a dance that could at least match his skills. The courtship was brief, fun and happy, but in the end he had to go. After... after defeating the Red Priest of Windswept Wastes, the heart of the harsh desert lands, he sought out the town where he had been in the hopes of finding her. Instead he found the town covered in sand, ruined by a sandstorm. Assuming the worst he left. But he never forgot her. Never forgot Riya Shirai.

Nicholas sat across the table fuming. He wanted to grab a piece of silverware and jump at the man. The only thing preventing him was the knowledge that his wounds would open again.

Connac did not miss the anger and doubt and with a smile did the one thing he could think of to prove his story. From the air itself he called fourth an image of a woman, a dark skinned woman with a smile like the sun. Nicholas froze as the image turned to him and began singing. He had forgotten. How could he have ever forgotten?

When the song came to an end Nicholas was crying. Connac slid a cup across the table. 'I'm sorry... son.'

Strangely enough Connac refused to act, at least at first. His son was here now, he said, and he was not going to make the same mistake twice. When Nicholas was old enough they would find this person together. Only... only the day they were ready to set out, the day that Nicholas turned eighteen, a shadowy figure took his fathers life.

Helpless, Nicholas could only watch in horror as Connac bled out in his arms. The mans final request was heard. Nicholas knew what he had to do. Find the Band of the Black Banner. Get them back together. With their help, Nicholas would surely find the one who killed his father.

After one last adventure with the group, the 'Band of the Black Banner' separated, but Connac continued to travel, singing and adventuring as he went. Nothing seemed able to keep him down, until his moon met her sun. The princess of Kyonin, Faunra Edasseril's talent and beauty swept him away. With long, flowing golden hair and a voice that could melt anyone's heart, Connac's attention was instantly turned to the elf.

Charming his way past her mother, Connac soon wormed his way into her heart, and leaving behind all her traditions, Faunra ran off with Connac to explore the world of humans. Sure they had to lay low for a while, but their love was what mattered, right?

Finally settling down in a modest estate with all the wealth Connac had obtained over the years, Connac and Faunra began a life together, human and elf. A year down the road and their first, and only, child was born, but at a great price. After the birth, Faunra grew weak and soon became sick. No magic, arcane or divine, seemed to help alleviate her, and soon, she passed. Connac was left to raise their son alone.

Zirul Aevell had grown up under his father's tales of adventures and meyham, and many of those were centered around the 'Band of the Black Banner'. Born without any of the magical vocal talent of his father or mother, Zirul dived into the arts through literature instead. Several stories under his belt, his greatest and largest of them was his precious tome called 'The Band of the Black Banner', a collection of their history and connection. It had but one story left to place within to be finished.

Of course, it might never get finished, as his father never did speak of that last adventure. After defeating the Red Priest of the Windswept Wastes, the group disbanded, parting to seek their own paths. No question, no matter how direct, was answered when it came to this. Perhaps the most major event in their journeys was a complete mystery.

Then again, Zirul himself was a mystery. Son of a human adventurer and a elven princess, Zirul found himself an oddity compared to those around him. His father taught him how to overcome this, though, through the power of words. Though he couldn't carry a tune, at all, Zirul had his father's knack for twisting and combining words to convince anyone of anything.

Though Zirul had most of his father's features, he favored his mother in both build and magical talent. Spinning magic like that of the elves, Zirul worked them into his martial practices, combining steel and spell into a deadly combination. His father would always comment that he would be a great adventurer one day.

Zirul often wondered what life would have been like had his mother survived. However, Connac raised Zirul well, giving him more attention than he had anything else. A confidant and a friend, Connac was always there for Zirul, and he couldn't ask for more.

It wasn't until that faithful day that Zirul truly realized just how blessed he had been. He can still remember that evening as he came to his father's study, ready to announce that dinner had been prepared. Opening the door, the fire was out, the window open. The windows swept up for a moment with a sudden gust of wind, and there, lying in the middle of the floor, was Connac.

A pool of blood already seeping out from under him, Connac's right hand held his namesake sword while his left hand rested on a dagger sticking out of his chest, its hilt ugly and evil looking. The curtains blow up once more, and a flash of a figure swept by, escaping through the window before one could blink.

Zirul knelt by Connac, not knowing what to do, how to help. His throat was constricted shut as he saw his father dead before him. Then, Connac raised his hand and touched him. It took a moment for Zirul to realize that Connac was muttering something. Leaning in close, he heard his father's lasts words:
"The Band. You must...get the Band back together. The Band of the Black Banner. You must...you must tell them. Tell them that I was wrong. It has come...it is here. Take Black Blade...and get the Band, Zirul."

The clerics came the next day to revive him, but found that their magic had no effect. The dagger had done something that even magic couldn't fix, much as his mother had gone. His father was truly dead for good.

Taking up his father's blade, the Black Blade, Zirul decided to follow his father's last wishes and seek out those other members and bring them back. But as soon as he finished that, he knew his next goal. He would not rest until his father was avenged.

Zirul is easygoing and is much more of a human in actions than his appearance gives off. He has longed for an adventure to come upon him much like his father, but he would have learned the most mudane of existances if he had known the cost.

Zirul simply seeks to find his father's old companions, keeping his ear out for another about his father's killer, for that is definitely next on his list.

Zirul often takes notes and jots down seemingly random things, as he likes to incorporate things into his stories. He also still has some 'glory' ideas from his father's stories, as well as thoughts of epic 'heroism' to perform.

Zirul's main attire is that of a flowing blue cloak with red garments underneath. However, he likes to be presentable in any situation, and stays ready to change outfits in a moment's notice.

Black Blade became Connac's signature weapon, guiding him through many a fight. The sword was vaguely in the shape of a scimitar, though it had definite differences. Of a perfect balance, the sword's surface was of some strange obsidian black material that was strong enough to slide through gems without damage.

It was this blade that Connac left Zirul. Though never having used Black Blade before, the sword immediately attached to Zirul, claiming that he was his new master as they sought to finish Connac's last request. The blade, an entity all its own, desired to see Connac's wish through to the end no matter what. So, Zirul and Black Blade have formed a partnership of sorts as they fight together for their lost loved one.

Nobody ever expected much of Tatalia. She had no special birthmark, and no heavenly signs were to be found among the stars when she was born. The circumstance of her birth, though tragic, was not unheard of on the border between Cheliax and Andoran. Were she born with red hair, the priests of the temple might have presumed Sarenrae to have chosen her to be her servant, but she was instead born with a rather mousy appearance and dark brown hair. Simply put, there was nothing out of the ordinary about her.

And so Tatalia grew up with monks and priests, the halfling cheerily calling the clergy "Mother," "Father," or to the younger sorts "Sister" and "Brother." For her, this was both a sign of respect and a sign of love: they were her family, and she needed no other. She had some curiosity about her true parents, to be sure, but she felt at home in the halls of the Dawnflower's faithful. She was treated well, learning to read and write and sing with the choir. Tatalia was doted over most by the temple's librarian, a quiet old half-orc named Ulric, who introduced her to a world beyond the temple. He read to her books, both religious and historical, and showed the small child his vast collection of maps. When she was old enough, he started bringing fairy tales and storybooks from the market for her to read on her own.

There would be times that Ulric would regret having shown Tatalia those storybooks. The girl was quite taken with them, so taken that she wanted to reenact them in her daily life. So she had the carpenter fashion her a wooden sword (at least, it resembled a sword) and found a small blanket to serve as a cape and began gallivanting about the monastery and the surrounding "wilderness." It didn't take long before the priests caught her climbing very tall trees (the heroes in the books climbed things), chasing chickens with her sword (they were dragons, see?) and fencing with the air atop pushed-over pews (there were villains there, honest!). She was admonished, of course, but the monks did pity her a little: she had nobody her age to play with.

So when Tatalia reached the age of seven years old she started going to the nearby port city of Augustana to purchase supplies and offer healing to the sick and poor. It quickly became the highlight of the young halfling's life; as much as she enjoyed visits to the village near her monastery, the action and the excitement awing her each time she visited. She found other youths to play with, and so would run off and join them in their games, though the priestess who took her to the city was careful to explain to her what things she was NOT to do (like steal). In that one regard Tatalia was able to stifle her adventurous side. But it didn't stop her from scraping up enough money to buy an old sword for herself, much to the chagrin of everyone at the monastery.

Life passed like so for several years. The halfling girl grew to be twelve years of age in the House of the Dawnflower. She was entrusted with the care of the monastery's herd of sheep, and while she found the work rather boring, Tatalia made good use of her time out in the fields reading books, practicing her sprint, climbing trees, and practicing her swordplay (with her real sword). The halfling would then spar with her friends in Augustana when she visited them. She would tell them stories, too, about heroes and monsters, and she became rather good at it. Indeed, Tatalia found she could earn a few coins by telling stories; people seemed to enjoy listening to them, and would tip her as if she were busking.

One day, Tatalia was taking a shortcut through a dark alley when she saw a young man being accosted by a trio of thugs. Without pausing to consider the consequences, the halfling child drew her longsword and demanded they leave him alone. The thugs quickly changed their attention, and it took barely any effort for them to knock the sword flying from the young halfling's hands and press a morningstar up against her throat.

That could have been the end of her story, and she could have been beaten or worse - but an old man came, perhaps in his fifties, stepped out from behind them. He drew his own, concealed sword in a flash, and without breaking a sweat had disarmed each of the thugs, knocking two unconscious and sending the last fleeing for his life.

The man asked Tatalia if she was alright. She looked to see if the young man was there, but he, too, was long gone, having fled when the thugs focused on the halfling. The old man chided her a little, saying she shouldn't start fights she can't win, to which the halfling replied quiet angrily, "Well, I can't just do nothing, either!" This made the old man smile, and he commended her for having her heart in the right place. He offered to teach her how to fight if she would agree to be more careful next time, and the halfling agreed.

That was how Tatalia first met the legendary Connac Aevell. He didn't introduce himself as such, though. Connac asked the girl where her family was; and when she replied that she lived at the House of the Dawnflower with the priests, understanding came upon his face. So he escorted Tatalia and the priestess that took her to Augustana back to their temple, and there he expressed a wish to train the girl in swordsmanship properly. There was some debate among the clergy about this, but Tatalia was keen on actually learning how to fight. In the end, they deemed her old enough to make such a decision for herself, and she was allowed to train with the bard.

And so Tatalia began spending each weekend at Connac's manor in Augustana, where he had apparently been living for some time. Famous though he was, he found himself preferring a quiet happy ending, living by himself with his butler and occasionally humoring a few old friends when they came to visit. He seemed glad to have found someone so eager to do right as Tatalia, however, and he taught her a fair bit about swordsmanship. It was a bit difficult at first - he was showing her how to fight as he did, but she was much smaller and slighter of build. But when he realized his mistake, he began showing her some techniques to fight opponents much larger than herself, to use her size to her advantage, and she quickly started developing as a warrior.

Tatalia learned much more than simple swordsmanship under Connac's tutelage, too. She was given access to his personal library, vast as it was, and was taught how to lead others and make decisions on the fly. Indeed, she turned out to be an almost perfect pupil, having the right combination of charm, speed, and quick wit to make full use of what he had to teach. Indeed, she found out his real identity all by herself, having pieced together bits and pieces of little facts to come to that realization with a shout that woke him from his slumber one night. Connac, of course, then had to cope with having a little halfling girl barraging him with questions about all his adventures and the places he'd been. Tatalia had always been an ardent fan of the Band of the Black Banner.

Years passed as Connac showed Tatalia the tricks of his trade. But she was learning at her temple, too, and they discovered she had an unexpected talent for the divine, and in a very special way: her selflessness and her courage made her the perfect candidate to become a paladin. The clergy helped the halfling hone her divine connection with Sarenrae. She took readily to the lifestyle offered to her, and before long Tatalia bore the symbol of the Healing Flame and had earned the right to call herself a paladin. Yet Tatalia also learned just as much from Connac, and while she never seemed to possess the fiery wrath of other paladins, she had a way of spurring others into action with her words, inciting them to rally together. Tatalia took her paladin oaths, but also took an oath to uphold freedom and equality, a gesture befitting the child of a slave - and a gesture that Connac was proud to hear she had made.

As she neared her twenty-fourth birthday, Tatalia could hardly imagine a happier life. She had a large family of sorts at the temple, and while Connac had never called her his daughter he doted over her as if she were. She found it odd: the halfling had asked him before why he settled down alone and whether he had any children, but he always seemed to find a way to dodge the question, as if something about the topic was painful. She respected his privacy, and she was glad to have had the opportunity to learn from him. Indeed, she was going to his manor to tell him goodbye and begin her first mission as a paladin when she noticed that the window of his bedroom was broken.

Alarmed, Tatalia entered the manor, stumbling past the butler (unconscious, having been struck in the head) and soon came upon Connac's bloody body. He gasped for breath, then grabbed her by the hand and spoke:

"Get the Band back together," he said. It was all he could manage before he coughed and went still, never again to stir with life.

Tatalia held his cold hand and cried for a time. She knew what had to be done. The halfling gathered her composure, grabbed her beloved tutor's sword, and she swore one more oath: she would complete the last wish of Connac Aevall, and his death would be avenged.

This is far from a powerbuild, obviously, and I was tempted to take a level of Oracle instead of Swashbuckler, but it just feels so thematic to have her learn swashbuckling from Connac along with Inspire Courage and the like.

I decided against using the Magical Child archetype.

Also, when making this character I REALLY didn't want to make her a direct blood relation of Connac. Instead, I wanted her to be someone that looks up to him and admires him and treats him as a father figure. At the same time, I wanted her to have a family to run back to so that it isn't an easy choice for her to just waltz off and chase after his killer; the temple I made up is her home, and the people there are her family, and they are still very relevant to her life.

I'm cool with having said family kidnapped or harmed whensoever it benefits the story, of course.

I'll put up an actual character sheet for Tatalia later. Oh, and she has no last name because nobody knew her mother's last name. She's just Tatalia.

Personality-wise, she's a young halfling with a happy go-lucky attitude and a lot more naivety than she might like to admit. And she of course thinks she can take on the world single-handedly; her wisdom is a whopping 10, after all. She's taken lessons from Connac, though, so I assume her actual combat tactics and the like involve some pragmatism, but her decision making skills may need some work. I doubt it'll come up, but I imagined her as being bi and probably having dated a number of different halflings in her years before coming a paladin.

EDIT: Oh, and I don't know how clear I made it, but some of the kids she ran around Augustana with when she was little were... Well, not all of them were law-abiding citizens. She'll probably start with a rank or two in skills like Stealth and Sleight of Hand, and I'll possibly grab her a trait to make those class skills. Also, being that she's a paladin of the goddess of redemption, her general stance on petty thievery and the like does NOT involve smiting evil. Teaching better ways and helping people get out of poverty will be more her style.