Striding Into the Gates of Hell - a Wrath of the Righteous Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Mark Sweetman

• Why did you choose the languages that you did?
  
• How did Theodric get from school in Oppara to the Worldwound? – as in what made him aware of the Crusaders of Mendev and for him to choose there as a place to go?

• How did Socothbenoth come to choose Ravana’s mother?
  
• What brought her attention to the higher levels of the House of Thrune? – and how does the collar fit into the story?
  
• Is she a Kuthite? – or fully aware of her heritage and progenitor and worshipping of same?

• What were the circumstances that led Lacsar to depart Cheliax and venture North?
  
• How did he come to be afflicted with leprosy?

• As a follower of Abadar, what led Tauni away from the crossbow and unto the longbow?
  
• Where did Stikennot and Ulurt go to? – and why did he part paths?

• How do you reconcile being a first level character with seven years as a soldier and leader of men?
  
• Where did Lucian go to when they left?
  
• What temperament is he closest to?

• Where on Torean’s spectrum does divine magic from evil casters lie? – does he consider it worse than or better than arcane magic?
  
• How would Torean feel about being assigned to a squad different from the other dwarves of Janderhoff?

• Why did forcing the information from the cultist cause him to fall?
  
• Have you considered any of the minor gods (or empyreal lords) as patrons?

Vaclav Cultist
"You will tell me where she is."

"Ha! You're a deluded fool, Paladin. There is nothing you can do to make me betray my masters!"

"Really? Nothing I can do? I've spent years being sickened from hearing about the tortures devised by the creatures of the Abyss. There's a terrible fascination about sharing the stories. We all know it might be us one day. And now it is her. Let me tell you exactly what I'm going to do to you."
some time later
"Finally, I will use the scroll given to me to call on celestial aid to instead summon a Cacodaemon, and then I will let it eat your soul, just to make sure your masters cannot reward you."

"You're... you're bluffing. A paladin won't - can't - do any of that.

Vaclav starts. A few seconds in his paladinhood is visibly stripped from him. Looking directly into the cultist's eyes he smiles grimly "Nothing to lose now."

Have you considered any of the minor gods (or empyreal lords) as patrons?
At length!
Pre-fall
Ragathiel sort of fit, but was over-represented in the recruitment.
Strongly considered Vildeis - disturbing, but sort of worked. Came down to the fact I could sort of imagine Iomedae being prepared to forgive Vaclav given why he fell, and it was harder to see Vildeis doing that.
Happy to have Vildeis instead of Iomedae if you like.

Post-fall
Korada was an obvious choice, but I was looking for a rural god that would support both paladins and druids. Erastil was a stand out fit. If that's a dealbreaker I could probably someone who sort of fit.

What drew his attention up from the papers was the silence. He did not hear the flap, no footsteps, or did he hear anyone sit, but when he directed his attention up from the papers that he was organizing, there was a man sitting in the seat, calmly waiting. Brown skin, black hair that could probably do with a trim, though his clothing was worn, but neat. He could have been Varisian, or of caravan folk, though none ever passed this way willingly. No fidgeting, the man simply waited, watching him. A flicker of emotion, more a quirk of the corner of his mouth, came briefly and went after a second.

Startled, the Recruiter covered it well and put down the papers, returning the man's even gaze. "Papers, please."

======

"If you can manage to kill your fear, then there will be nothing that you cannot accomplish." That the same grayed caravan elder said that while a negligent flick of his hand set two horseshoe nails halfway into an oak board made the words that much more memorable. As a child, it guaranteed he would never forget.

Joao had come into the caravan's possession as a sale when he was very young, and though he understood little of what he heard, he was part of a debt that had been owed. To whom it was owed, he did not know. He knew that he had a family before the caravan, but what he could remember may just have been the fancy of a child, the indistinct memory of a house, the view of a window from a bed, looking down into the streets. It was something that he thought about rarely.

Once with the caravan, he could remember almost everything. They were not large, only several wagons or so, though at times they did join with others as they traveled from city to city. He was one of seven children, taken in by the families who owned each wagon. They were instructed, educated, and those lessons he found that he enjoyed greatly. There was particular emphasis placed on comprehension and awareness, where any exercise that they got was done without tools wherever possible.

There was no doubt that they were considered something between members of the caravan and property. As such, their education was exacting, but not unkind. Cities were when they were tested by their elders, some tasks involving finding something that had been placed ahead of time by another elder, or trying to take something that had been planted on someone without them noticing. They delivered letters, ran errands, and accompanied their elders at times. Failure was not tolerated, punished harshly once they left the city.

Of course, when he got older, Joao realized what it was that they were doing. However, he had found that he was fond of the challenge that each task presented. He was so used to focusing on the completion of the task, that he had few qualms about what he did, only seeking to test himself more and develop further. The words that he had taken to heart held more meaning, he realized. He had seen others paralyzed by fear, if even for scant seconds, and some of those same others die, when those seconds would have saved their lives. Only two situations like this had occurred, though when it happened, people had died directly.

The most notable was during one of the bigger tasks in Isger when he was just a little younger than he was now. They were tasked with retrieving a scroll case from an aristocrat, and the three of them that had gone to retrieve it were surprised by a trap on its hiding place that summoned a demon. That short, bloated creature that appeared killed one of them by surprise, and the other because she reacted too slow. Joao was already retreating, the peppery cloud from smokestick covering his exit and saving his life. Afterwards, his hands shook until he fell asleep.

He was not given any more tasks in that city, and from there on, he set to learning all he could about that creature and others like it. Comprehension was paramount, and he was driven to understand by fear. The more he learned, the more he realized that he would have to face the fear. The elders realized it as well.

One morning, he awoke on the cold ground, a pack next to him, and a scroll resting atop it. Written on the scroll was this:
"Kenabres. Kill your fear. Then you may return."

• Personality:(20-25 point buy) Joao was trained to be task-oriented, and enjoys being that way. Given time, he will research, plan, and execute a solution with contingencies that come as close to guaranteeing success. His Temperament shares qualities with the Introverted aspects of Melancholic and Phlegmatic (more the former than the latter in regards to completion of a job) "The Spock", "The Sneaky Guy". In the world of armored crusaders and large swords, he is "Weak But Skilled", and would be prone to using their advance as a perfect distraction to accomplish his objective. If that just happens to make him a "Magnificent Bastard", so be it. Most of the acclaim from that would be redirected, if possible. Gaining a name is not his goal.

•To choose one’s class: Joao does not have as much to offer the crusades in the way of dismantling things as a Ninja, but he has the know-how to access protected locations, as well as the training to strike precisely for maximum effect. While he is not at his best on the front line, his presence could turn a dire situation into a merely difficult one, hampering movement, perception, and even communication.

•To gain belongings (average wealth): Browned skin, and dark hair could mark him as someone from the frontier of Varisia, though his manner is quickly adopted from what he can gather from the local customs as soon as possible. His movement is controlled, and body language always neutral, blending in where he does not stand out. He is not overly muscled, instead being light and compact. Speaking is not something that he does much, but his voice has as much control as his movements, precise and succinct. Blending in requires some aptitude for acting, and while he is passable, he is not a master.
•To have skills borne of experience (two traits): The elders would often give them their tasks in the midst of the city, during seemingly innocent discussions. Understanding this was essential and a something every child picked up quickly, else receive corrective action for failing to be aware of it. ~Canter~ Furthermore, as they got older or displayed an aptitude, some of their "tests" would involve accessing things that were protected by locks and traps. The quicker those could be circumvented, the better off they were. Vagabond Child(Disable Device)

Evil is Evil. Torean recognizes divine magic can be corrupted too, and his training does apply to resisting divine magic as well. However, divine magic comes from the gods, so it's goodness or evilness is inherent. It's arcane magic that has no morality to it and that's where the danger lies. It's like letting a child play with a nuclear bomb. So, Torean sees evil divine magic as being more "natural" than arcane magic and he's more tolerant of it. I think he would struggle to say it's "better", however. This viewpoint will hopefully change as the game progresses.

-How would Torean feel about being assigned to a squad different from the other dwarves of Janderhoff?

Being the only Spellbane in the group, Torean would naturally understand if the war leaders felt his talents could be used elsewhere than with his fellow dwarves. Dwarves already have some resistance to magic, so he'll probably feel like he's being placed in a group who may be more vulnerable to it to protect them. He's used to following military command structure, so he will have no problem reporting to a new unit, especially if it was one with a specialized mission. You might get some xenophobic remarks (Add that Trope) from him, but especially if his new comrades show some military prowess, he'll respect them.

Alana Flameheart was young half elf and a paladin of Aroden when her god died. Her tale is a sorrowful one but this is not only her story. While devastated by that event life did not gave her time to mourn. Cheliax, her homeland, plummeted into civil war. Soon she found herself fighting her own comrades and it sickened her to death.
When what was left of the church launched the First Mendevian Crusade she immediately enlisted. It was a chance to fight a real evil. A threat to the world that was not born out the nobles greed and her people's inability to dialogue. But even her pessimism and general disappointment towards life did not prepared Alana for what she would find in Mendev. Hell had indeed come to earth and with it the armies of the dammed. Once again she found herself in the chaos of total war, but this time on the winning side. At least that is what it seemed at first.

As the weeks stretched into years the paladin endured as so many others died, she converted to the inheritor's faith and ascended to the rank of captain of the guard of Drezen. There she fought to the bitter end when the city fell to the second wave of the demonic hordes. Alana was captured alive, tortured and made a slave of Archi'bar the demon, a commander in the armies of darkness.

Under his care she found true despair, but not death. Flameheart was rescued by a battalion of the third crusade. By then she did not care to live anymore, mortally injured and on the late stages of pregnancy she asked only that her child be spared. Alana died before seeing her twin sons, both of them carrying the legacy of their father. The tiefling brothers were given, with a sack of gold, to a lower templar called Torvald who would become their foster father. While not a bad man the warrior loved the bottle more than anything else and the children mostly raised themselves.

Shunned by most people the twins learned early to keep to themselves. The only people to show interest in them were the same ones they wanted to avoid the most, the wicked and the demon worshipers. Or so thought Dollok.

Always bullied by the older forever the scapegoat for any occasion the siblings both grew up as rebels and troublemakers. They regarded the fortress-city's people as weak, clung to lost dreams, eternally the victims or ready to sold their souls to their own tormentors. Impulsive younglings, they were quick to lose their temper but the demon in the blood gave them the anger necessary to survive (Reactionary). One day Baelor disappeared, Dollok searched the whole town but couldn't find his brother. The body was never recovered either. The guard assumed him dead and was happy for it but Dollok knew better. His brother had gone away to join their father. Looking back the tiefling could see his twin's anger growing against the world and all the things never said between themselves. He felt alone as never before.

So Dollok left too going south instead. He wanted to travel to Cheliax the ancient homeland of his family and a place where half breads were a common sight this days. The young man never made it, the journey was long and he spend months in the wilderness by himself (World Traveler). While diving deep into his memories the tiefling discovered a magic in his blood that was not tainted by the nine hells. A last gift from his mother that became a turning point in his personality. Dollok realized he was free to choose who he wanted to become.

During his travels he meet distrust but also hospitality. He worked his way to the south as a caravan guard, farm hand or just as a simple wanderer. In the gorgeous forests of Nirmathas he meet a pathfinder and his first true friend. Ezekiel was a man of faith, a priest of Milani who worked for the guild of the open road. Under the cleric's influence he went to Absalom joining the ranks of the Pathfinders and receiving training as a sorcerer. He made a life and a name for himself within the organization.

Fighting alongside his comrades and unveiling the mysteries of mankind he understood the commitment of Alana to her people and to the well being of the world. When news that the crusade needed more volunteers spread Dollok enlisted to continue his mother's work.

To be more powerful (20 point buy) – tell me of your character’s personality and state which aspect of the Four Temperament Ensemble is closest to your character's outlook.
Sanguine and Choleric (the Artisan)

To further hone your strength (25 point buy) – describe a few other tropes that apply to your character, and whether you play them straight or subvert them.

To have skills borne of experience (two traits) – weave the skills into the background that shapes your character
World Traveler: +1 on diplomacy checks and diplomacy is always a class skill to you.

Reactionary: +2 on initiative checks.

To gain belongings (average wealth for your character class) –tell me what your character looks like, and how they comport themselves. To be richer still (max wealth for your character class) – describe one item you bear that was inherited from someone important to you, and how it came to be yours.
Dollok is a dark haired and tall young man, his tanned skin covered with old scars from previous fights. In spite the horns on his forehead and his red cat eyes he has a handsome face with an insolent crocked smile that insist on appearing in the worst possible moments. His limbs are long giving him an outworldy skinny appearance and his fingers end in blacked claws instead of fingernails.
He dresses in the utilitarian outfit of those who make adventure their profession with a hooded dark cloak above his battered silk armor and leather kilt. He always keeps an iron rose brooch painted red stuck in his lapel. It is the symbol of Milani his goddess and was a goodbye present from Ezekiel when they parted ways in Absalom.

To choose one’s class – state what you have to offer the crusade (imagine you were responding to a recruiter).
A cloaked figure approaches the recruiter.
Good day Sir. My name is Dollok and I have come to join the crusade. I am an accomplished sorcerer who not only can command the arcane energies but also know how to survive and thrive in a melee. As a bonus I have extensive knowledge of Mendev since I grew up there. Pulling down his hood. Hello Lieutenant Sweetknight, don't you recognize me? Its Dollok! Its nice to see you again, I decided it was time to go back home. Smiling his crooked smile.

Needless to say there was no love lost between the Wintrish and the order that established itself in Cheliax over the following decades, but as much as they dispised it they yearned to return to the lap of luxury and civilization instead of toiling over ignorant yokels and dirt-grubbers. For his part as a child Broderick was fairly content with his life. He got into all kinds of trouble playing with the local boys and generally reaking havoc. That was until the Goblinblood Wars tore accross the land.

Broderick’s father, Baron Reginald Wintrish went off to fight, and never returned, and his mother, Eveltn--in shock over her husband’s death--turned to opiates to cope. Though he was not a true orphan he found himself under similar circumstances, alongside his younger brother William. Left largely to their own devices Broderick found a new father figure in the nearby Citadel Dinyar, with Maralictor Kaliner Perensk. The hellknight took pity on Broderick and William and saw that they were cared for until they were of an age to join him at the citadel itself.

And so it was that Broderick became a man, instructed in the ways of woodcraft and combat by Maralictor Perensk, while his brother showed a talent for the arcane, his path seemingly carrying him towards the ranks of signifier, though he was several years behind Broderick.

When Broderick finally came of age and was ready to venture forth, he returned to his childhood home. It was not a pleasant visit, his mother’s mind had become near permanently clouded years ago, and half the time she didn’t seem to know he was there or who ihe was. Fortune did smile briefly upon him, her jitteryness calming and a clarity returning to her gaze that had been long absent. Moments later the eyes were obscured again, but by tears this time. “Broderick, my son. How you have grown.“ she fell silent briefly, dabbing at her eyes before focusing on her son again. “Your father... he would have wanted you to have it.“ she pulled a key from around her neck, pressing it into his hand. Her mouth opened as if to say something, and then hung there. As quickly as it had come clarity had fled. Fighting against emotion Broderick closed his fingers around the key, and hugged his insensate mother, adjusted her blanket, and fled her presence.

It was almost sad when he discovered the chest the key unlocked, upstairs in the bedroom mother no longer used. A dented breastplate with a rusted hole in the chest, a blade that he recognised as his father’s—not decorated with gilt or jewels as it should have been, not even that finely made, but still, his fathers... He clipped the sheath to his belt and rummaged through the rest, moth eaten blankets, a pouch with a few silvers and even a couple gold. Such were the fortunes of house Wintrish. What they hadn’t lost when they fled Cheliax his mother had frittered away on her indulgences, the house was near bare, and she retained only the one faithful servant who cared for her. It was a travesty... Despite what the Order of the God Claw had taught him he hadn’t quite been able to shake his family’s ingrained hatred of devils for what their interference had done to them. It had gotten him in trouble more than once, but he couldn’t seem to resolve the conflict... He had no thought to overthrow hosue Thrune, he was no leader like the Lictor... but no, he could not shake his hatred of the darkness beyond this plane, and so he had heard the call of the fifth crusade. Maralictor Perensk supported his decision to bring law to the chaos to the north, and that was more than enough for Broderick. He would make his way north and ally himself with the forces of good and order to put down the demon menace, and enact what vengeance he could for his family...

Anti-Villain, Dark and Troubled Past , Necessarily Evil :p , Jerk with a Heart of Gold, Pragmatic Villainy (maybe?), Evil Versus Evil , Even Evil Has Loved Ones, a bit of The Lancer

As far as that four temprament hoosajig, Melancholic I think? Maybe Rational

Lacsar grew up splitting his time between Mendev and Cheliax. He actually considers himself a Mendev native of Chelaxian heritage. His parents moved their immediate family to Mendev when Lacsar was a child in an attempt to get some distance from the twisted machinations of the Chelaxian nobility and give their kids a 'normal life'. Even by Chelish standards, Senara is a demented place to grow up.

However, even distant branches of a Chelish noble house are expected to participate in House matters, so Lacsar's family was often compelled to return to Cheliax. Within their noble house, Lacsar's family was tolerated but not particularly respected. They were largely sneered at for being 'provincial' - an opinion that was cemented when they moved to Mendev. Gotta love Chelish arrogance.

How did he come to be afflicted with leprosy?

I left that detail to the DM's discretion. :) The two obvious choices are:
1. Lacsar is right and it actually IS a curse. In that case the 'who' and 'why' are potential mysteries to explore that could be woven into the fabric of the campaign - provided you feel it could add amusing twists or additional depth to the gameplay.
2. Lacsar is wrong and he contracted the disease in some ordinary way. That would make Lacsar's curse theory a complete fiction constructed in his own head. This is kind of a funny/interesting option because it plays into his 'temperament' and his 'creating worlds in his own head' introverted nature. His theory then becomes just an elaborate rationalization that denies a basic truth - sh!t happens. :D

Assuming you want Lacsar in the game, I'm good with however you want to handle the source of his leprosy. I'd find it fun to play either option or some variation in between.

- How do you reconcile being a first level character with seven years as a soldier and leader of men?
- Where did Lucian go to when they left?

I apologize if I gave off the impression that Reknars' background was finished - it is all but that :D

I am still adding information to his backstory (in fact just made another update on the alias), it is all in my head, but I am simply struggling for time to have it all written down - here are the main bullet points, which will be developed as I have time to write it down:

- Reknar and Lucian travelled together for 6 months until Lucian decided he wanted to return to Absolom to continue his wizard training - Reknar accompanied him;
- In Absolom, he recovered his contact with a metropolis, something he had been away for many, many years by now;
- He is an intelligent man, and was easily drawn in not only by his, by this time, good friend Lucians' vast knowledge of many things both martial and arcane - he found himself drawn to this;
- He took notice of the Pathfinder Society activity, and while staying as Lucian guest, he poured through his library and gravitated more and more towards the goals of the Pathfinder Society;
- When accepted in, many of his approaches to life changed, namely learning that not all things are resolved by drawing a sword and hacking at it;
- He had to shed many of what he had learned before while in the army, and he came to realize that, in fact, being constantly pushed to the lower ranks, made for the sad result that he really hadn't learned that much about warfare, or even combat - he had been consistently in the brunt of it, which allowed him to understand what it is to share hardship with others, but as far as being a combatant, it really taught him nothing more than how to draw a sword and swing it;
- He let go of the basic logics that a grunt is indoctrinated to in the basic ranks of any army, and re-learned by himself (at this point becoming a Lore Warden);
- His cynic view of life is maintained, he has not changed his perspective on the higher purposes that one may try to find for life - in that aspect he is still quite the hostage of his fathers' repeated words - "Hard work";
- He soaked in what the Society, the huge city, and his own friend had to offer. At the back of his head however, he longed to bring his newfound self into play for something different. He had to admit it, he missed the warfare, the companionship that can only be derived from sharing extreme conditions... And his mind and body were becoming restless, he found himself reminiscing on the times he had his soldiers around him, looking for him to leadership, and decisive action;
- He shared this with Lucian, but his friend had a request - that this time he would try to make a difference, instead of simply fighting for the fight itself. "You will find it to be more rewarding than you could have ever imagined" - he would say;
- Ever cynical, and with a laugh, Reknar reluctantly acquiesced and decided to travel to where supposedly, making a difference is one of the most needed things at the moment - Mendev and the Worldwound - "I doubt there is a difference to be made Lucian, but at least who knows if I will be able to return filthy RICH! And add some to that poor excuse of warehouse that the Society calls the Knowledge Vault!" - were his parting words as he hit the road.

The above would be the basics of his travel to the Worldwound.

- What temperament is he closest to?

In the initial post from Reknar I had pointed out some of the Tropes that were inevitably applicable to him, I'll repost them again with some of the logic behind it:

- He is definitely hard Leukine: This is what makes him tick, the face of others in those defining moments when deciding how to proceed, staring at him for adjudication, have been the single biggest reason of pride and sense of accomplishment in his whole life so far. Making decisions, taking the responsibility for them, and having the others expect him to lead them into making these come into fruition make his blood run hotter, makes him feel alive;

- Sergeat Rock and Badass: There is no mistake, Reknar is a tough cookie that says it how it is, and gets the job done in spite of any whinning that may surround him. He really spares no tears for himself or for others when the hardship of a mission, of life, or sheer bad luck, hit them hard. When it has to be done, it has to be done, and there is no point in complaining over it;

- Arc Words: These are a staple of Reknar. Stuff like "Private Cole: Why is it us? Why us? Colour Sergeant Bourne: Because we're 'ere, lad. Nobody else. Just us" are the perfect example of Reknars' mindset. He also tends to push people in combat - in game terms I am expecting to have fun in roleplaying what sometimes is discussed in OOC, throwing stuff around like - "Life ain't easy and we do not know if there is a Pot of Gold at the end of the Rainbow boys! Who gives a crap?! Just make sure that wizard doesn't hit me with another volley again! STAT!"

- Band of Brothers, Badass Crew and Really Good Team are concepts clearly present in his background, and more intensely than he would ever care to admit, in his expectations for the future. Strangely enough, the hardest time of his life, was one of the most rewarding, and he cannot avoid looking for it in everything he does - he has changed much of his approach to life, but these are all firmly written in stone and set at the darkest corner of his mind. Though he will never admit it, and may not even be aware of it himself, this is what he wishes above everything else;

- Levelheaded Leader and Antihero: Reknar does not look for glory, or even rivers of gold, though he will accept them if they fall on his lap. It takes him forever to develop trust in anything or anyone, and it is on those that he eventually builds his expectations upon - a simple expectation of recognition. However his distance from higher goals, from anything above the material sphere (kinda like Conan), make him the quintessential antihero, with a callousnes and a cold distance to higher principles (at least on the immediate surface) that allow him to evaluate situations coldly even in the heat of battle, maintaining a clear head, and calm enough to make difficult decisions.

There would be much more to add in terms of Tropes, but I had to stop somewhere :D

The child who would be named Peidrarael was supposed to have been born female.

The prophecies and portents all lead to that, that finally, this generation was the one where the promise of power made centuries ago would come to fruition.

She would have been the end result of a plan more than half a millennium in the making, the sort that only a group of calculating elves could manage. It began with an Infernal Contract, followed by generations of careful breeding intended to purify and concentrate the Infernal blood, and then, finally, when the portents revealed themselves to show that the time had come, the mixing of the planetouched elven bloodline with the blood of House Thrune itself.

She was to be their instrument of vengeance, a living fury, a daughter of Eiseth made flesh... destined to bring ruin to the House of Thrune. She would be one of their blood, and as such, able to tear them down from within, attacking the very foundations of their precious power.... stripping away their power, their wealth, and their very name..... as they once did to the elves of what was once called House Staerlanaen.... who would once again take their place amongst the ruling elite of Cheliax.

But, instead, she was male.

A cursedly normal, weak, honey-haired, half-blooded male (a necessity, to add the blood of their enemies), with only the smallest touch of the Infernal within him.

A year and a day of testing proved that. Something had gone awry. Perhaps the cursed father’s bloodline was too far removed from that of their enemies…. Perhaps they had misread a sign... They needed to return to their divinations and study the contract to determine the next step.

And while they worked, the child who would be named Peidrarael was discarded….. but kept within easy reach, just in case.

Growing up as a half-breed in Kyonin, even so near the lone integrated city, made for a somewhat difficult childhood -- and this was made worse when he began his arcane training. He was constantly reminded of his "tainted" human blood by his peers and his instructors, and especially the slow-witted, graceless, immature impatience that came with it... and he was frequently the target of pranks intended to remind him of his place. Whenever the boy responded to these pranks, whether to complain to the instructors (which proved futile) or to demand they stop, he was rebuked -- usually by being told that his response was inappropriate and simply a result of his human blood making him impatient or overly sensitive.

Despite the admonishments of his instructors, Peidrarael was not able to simply look beyond these petty cruelties. Each of them resonated within him, creating a gnawing hunger.... and the reaction of the instructors only further fueled his sense of outrage and injustice. His mother's assurances that all would be right in time rang hollow to his ears -- after all, how would things be right if nobody was willing to take action and make things right? His doubt and rage all came to a head when he was fourteen and one of his fellow students destroyed his final project before he could present it. All of the injustices were simply too much, and he took matters into his own hands, beating down the offender and then using a cantrip to turn his hair and skin bright orange.... although the spell must have also misfired, because it turned Peidrarael's hair from its honey-brown shade to dark black.

His mother's reputation was damaged by his actions -- and was not enough to prevent them from expelling Peidrarael, ending his apprenticeship. Worse, he saw the look on his mother's face when she spoke to him about it -- it began with the same mix of scorn and pity the rest of the full-bloods directed his way... and was blended with something else when he defended his actions, insisting that justice needed to be done... something very much like fear. She told him that his behaviour had all but guaranteed that no other wizard would take him on to finish his training. And she told him, that night, that his father had been no simple warrior, but a Hellknight of Cheliax.... and that Peidrarael, clearly, took after his human half. The words were spoken in haste, but they broke something within the boy.

If the elves all treated him so horribly, then why not take after his human half in reality? Digusted and betrayed, he left his mother's house and headed into Greengold, seeking refuge and employment amongst the guardsmen who used to treat him well.

The burst of temper was an interesting development, as was his use of magic -- but the most important sign of all was what everyone assumed was a result of a mishap with his spell: the boy's hair had turned black... while he was in the throws of fury and using his magic.

Peidrarael knew nothing of that, however -- his largest concern was attempting to find a place to live after being turned away from the barracks. He had considered those men friends and was shocked to learn that they viewed him more as a pet and a useful diversion -- and that they were advising him to go home... something he stubbornly refused to do....

... at least until the third day, when his resolve began to fail as his stomach grumbled. Still, before he could return home, he was bowled over by a fleeing

Lawful Good: [Played Straight] -- Though there may be some conflict from the Good is Not Soft. Ultimately, he's trying to find the proper balance of a Type 3 personality -- his innate response tends to be more type 1, which suits the Hellknight discipline, however, he feels that Iomedae wants him to be a type 2.

Magic Knight: [Played Straight] -- first as a Magus and later (hopefully) as a Signifier.

Turns Out Like His Father: [Straight] Petravius never fit in Kyonin and was unhappy there, instead setting off northward, taking on a Chelish name, wanting to join the Hellknights - to live up to the ideals of his father, despite the concern and disapproval from his adopted mother....

Turns Out Like His Father:[Subverted] However, much of what was blamed on his "human" side growing up, especially his temper and impatience, is, in fact, a gift from his mother's side -- the blood of the Erinyes within him... and he worries about that.... leading to...

In the Blood: [Straight; Hopefully Subverted] Petravius knows that he carries the blood of the Erinyes within him, and worries what that means -- as such the tendency of his normally lawful nature to lead to vengeance and his righteous fury scare him.

Knight Errant: [Somewhat subverted] Petravius is a wandering would-be knight and wannabe hero -- he's gone north to the Worldwound to earn enough of a reputation and to attract enough attention that he'll be invited into the Order -- and is doing so based only on the hope that some of the Order remained behind, rather than going back to Cheliax. Basically, he's got the temperment and sense of responsibility of the trope, but actually wants nothing more than to find a place he fits in and be able to stop wandering.

We (I) Help the Helpless and Comes Great Responsibility [Played Straight, mostly] This ties back to the Knight Errant -- specifically, Petravius has realized that his magical and martial abilities (and even his bloodline) give him the power to act when others cannot -- and the fury he feels at injustice compels him to do so.

Glory Seeker: [Played Straight] Petravus *is* in it for the glory on some levels -- even if that glory is (mostly) a means to an end -- impressing the Hellknights. This doesn't go into Glory Hound, though -- Petravus is willing to sacrifice himself, but not others.
Terror Hero: [Lampshaded, somewhat] -- Because of Petravius' reverence of the Hellknights, he expects that others share that respect of their reputation -- even if he, himself, doesn't have such a reputation. (He's hoping for a type 5, but we'll see..)

However, on a deeper level (when he's more honest with himself), his burning desire to be a Hellknight is not simply a matter of emulating his father, hoping that it was his father's blood that tainted the process, but a belief that the discipline of the Order would help him control what he feels inside.... and that coming to the Worldwound gives him a target for the fury within him, something that he can unleash it on without needing to worry about later remorse or guilt.... and that, should the need arise, the Crusaders can deal with him, too.

Petravius takes comfort in his daily prayers, finding that they help keep him grounded. Beyond that, however, Petravius (as befitting his "knight errant" nature) actively looks for opportunities to right even the smallest wrongs (like, say, bullying).

Why did you choose the languages that you did?

Theodric’s main academic focus is the planes and extraplanar beings. He chose the languages that would most help him in these pursuits (Celestial, Infernal, Abyssal), as well as languages that will help him with his arcane studies (Elven and Draconic).

How did Theodric get from school in Oppara to the Worldwound? – as in what made him aware of the Crusaders of Mendev and for him to choose there as a place to go?

In addition to studying demons and devils, Theodric is also an interested student of history. As such, he knows about the Worldwound, the constant influx of demons surging forth, and the ever-weakening attempts of the crusaders to drive them back. He believes he has learned all he can at this point from studying in one place and wants to get “into the field”. Theodric is interested in the Worldwound itself, but also in the wardstones—he’d like to observe one or more of them, if he can, understand their construction, and perhaps eventually create a wardstone that can function without the aid of divine prayers/magic.

Tauni only recently committed to the worship of Abadar, and she received her combat training from Ulurt, who wasn’t a follower of Abadar. Ulurt was a ranger who was found by Stikennot. When they met, Ulurt was alone and dying, far from civilization and rescue was unlikely. Stik nursed Ulurt back to health in exchange for years of indentured servitude to the gnome. For much of the time that Ulurt and Tauni were together, Tauni agreed with Ulurt’s assessment of Stikennot, that he was a greedy opportunist who never did anything unless compensated for it. To make it worse (they believed), he cloaked his actions in the cloth of Abadar to make it seem a holy undertaking. It wasn’t until they arrived at the World Wound that Tauni’s opinion (and Ulurt’s, for that matter) of Stikennot and Abadar was changed drastically. So during those years of combat tutelage, she favored the bow, which was Ulurt’s preferred weapon, along with his great club.

After arriving at the World Wound, Stikennot’s attitude changed. Ulurt and Tauni noted that he was no longer charging the soldiers there for anything; he freely gave away alchemical weapons and remedies, as well as his services as a healer. For weeks Stikennot worked tirelessly, and Ulurt and Tauni watched as the wealth the gnome had accumulated during their travels together quickly vaporized. As they went along like this, they saw that some of the men and demi-humans in the war recognized the gnome; apparently he had been here years before and done the same thing.

After more than a month of this, Ulurt confronted the gnome and asked him about it. Stikennot told him ”It is my duty, as an adherent to the ways of Abadar. Civilization has been good to me; it has let me live a comfortable and productive life. But it is also the duty of an Abadaran to defend civilization, and to my mind this” he said with a gesture in the direction of the World Wound ”is perhaps the biggest threat civilization faces. So when I have accumulated enough wealth and goods through Abadar’s grace, I come here to do my part. I am certainly no warrior; I would only get in the way in a fight! But I can tend to wounds, and I can impart my alchemical creations to aid and comfort them. And I can accept letters to be delivered to family around the Inner Sea region. Try not to be concerned; we should be moving on within a couple of months, and your term of service with me will be up the winter after next and I won’t be returning here again before then.”

Tauni overheard this exchange, and it changed everything for her. She knew he was right. If the World Wound was not contained, how long would it be before the demon hordes reached her home in Varisia? Months? Weeks? That conversation between Stikennot and Ulurt, having followed on weeks of the gnome’s selfless behavior, was an epiphany for her and changed her outlook entirely. In the weeks that followed, Tauni was more focused than she had ever been, especially in learning about Abadar from Stik. Her entire attitude changed, and she couldn’t help but accept his faith as her own.

After another month, Stikennot let Tauni know that her term of service with him was almost up, and she was welcome to return home, or go wherever she saw fit. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the gnome moved on, to start delivering letters around the region and earn more money. As much as she had come to love Stik and Ulurt, she decided to stay at the World Wound to see if her destiny did indeed reside here, and to see if one woman from a humble caravan in Varisia could truly make a difference.

One aspect of the character that I was unsure of was her traits. I almost spent a feat to get two more. I thought Dangerously Curious would be appropriate, since the gnome used scrolls and wands in his healing and care, even though he wasn’t a spellcaster himself. The other I was thinking about was Ease of Faith to give her Diplomacy, from years of working with patients to soothe them while they cared for them. And, on a side note, that’s why she speaks gnomish; she learned it so she and Stik could talk in front of patients without them overhearing how bad something might be, or the course of treatment they would use if it might be painful or a placebo.