TNO Kingmaker Campaign. (Closed Group)

Game Master Patrick McDade

After the battle with the Scythe Trees, we come across a clearing with a fresh pond. Crying into the water is a Dryad (Tiressia). Upon our inquiry, she talks about her fear of the trees that is wreaking havoc on the area. When she finds out that we had just destroyed the said trees, she and her boyfriend, a Satyr (Falchos), are very thankful to our party. She gives us some treasure and vows to assist her if we agree to protect her grove of trees.

We are hoping to get some leads on the Dancing lady (Fey queen) who "sought the first world and failed"
"Feared, feared and loved". "The First world touches all the Fey, the Elder Lords can travel through it to the prime material plane which is a reflection of the first world plane".

We were told to "stop seeking Nyrissa", whom we are trying to figure out who that is.

We leave the Dryad and Satyr and come across a river. We hear yelling from across the river and we go to investigate. Two men, wielding axes, are enthralled by a Nexie (Siren) and holding off several other men. We chase off the Siren, and interrogate the men as to what is going on. They were foresters chopping down trees when the Siren took offense.

When we get back to our base, we find that there has been a spat of killings. Attacks were done by a 'wolf-like' creature.

It is early morning when Vissannica approaches the inn. The sign hanging above the entrance is a painted plank of wood showing a lion, with coloration matching the late Battlecat, his teeth buried in the neck of a fallen stag.
Only the earliest risers are at the Stag & Lion, eating what passes for breakfast among commoners.

To all accounts, Vissannica looks as she always does, a picture of Chelaxian nobility looking out of place in a rough pioneer town. As if that weren’t strange enough, she carries, as always, a bared black blade in one hand as if it were a parasol, and not a deadly threat. Yet, this morning she feels naked, and has to control herself not to hasten as she crosses the common room to chair in a shadowy corner she had occupied, albeit briefly, the night before. There, she rests her blade in the corner, next to some barrels, and motions to the barmaid.

She picks at the meal the barmaid brings her. If Vissannica notices the discomfort her presence causes the staff and patrons of the inn, she doesn’t show it. After a short time, she pays, leaving a generous tip more out of ignorance of local prices than generosity. When she reaches down to gather her blade, her hand passes through the weapon to just behind the barrels, out of sight. She draws her blade out from the hidden cloth wrappings behind the barrel with a silent sigh, feeling the connection resume, dismissing the illusory blade she had come in with.

Hello, child. says Livianus, by way of greeting. The barest hint of warmth soothes her. She begins making her way out of the filthy commoner hangout, heading back to her offices in the castle to debrief on the night’s intelligence gathering.

So, can our spies be trusted? asked Vissannica, impatient, thinking the words yet remaining silent as she mounted her horse, one handed, as always.

Yes, and no.

Well, we will have to deal with the no. And what did we learn about the killings?

Kundal is a person of interest in that he is mysterious visitor at the Inn. We have asked to look at his room and upon investigation we find an ear with an earring. We ask that if he comes back to the room, that we get notified.

We set up in the town center awaiting the arrival of the werewolf. Later that night we hear a scream and growl. We see a man in purple clothes that is scuffling with a beast. Vissanica casts glitterdust onto the werewolf, which fails is saving throw and is blind. Carissa hits with a scorching ray off dealing critical damage of 25 points. Z hits doing 22 points of damage. The werewolf charges Carissa trying to grapple her, but misses due to his blindness. Carissa maintains her seat in the saddle. Vissanica swings with her embued blade striking the werewolf with 28 points of damage. Carissa slams another Scorching ray for 20 points of damage, killing the werewolf. We go to heal the wounded man. It turns out to be the mysterious stranger from the inn.

Vissannica sits beside her sister in the private box reserved for House Rasdovain and its guests, but she does not pay much attention to the play in the recently constructed theater. She knows the story well, as she was the one who brought it to her sister’s attention. It is by a Chelaxian playwright, a dramatic story of palace intrigue in which an uprising is dealt with harshly. Devils serve the sympathetic characters in their victory over disloyal forces of chaos. A few changes were made to make it more locally appropriate, with the fey and their sympathizers cast as the villains in this version.

Vissannica, rather bored by the play below, is instead finding herself enthralled by the Black Blade’s new capacities. Through her own growing magic and Livianus’s resurgent power, the blade has fascinating new abilities. With a flick of her will, the blade is limned in fire, then ice, then crackling electricity, and finally, it takes on a preternatural sharpness. Somehow intimating a telepathic nonchalance, the blade, not to be outdone, itself shifts, not simply being adorned by arcane elemental forces, but the very nature of the black metal becoming molten fire, searing ice, and bound lightning. But the blade does not stop with the elements either, and continues to become honed sonic vibration, and finally raw magical force before resuming its typical light drinking black countenance.

Vissannica feels a sharp heel dig into her foot and looks up, noticing the enormous chamber had grown quiet. Several faces had turned towards their box, some of which looked quite frightened. Apparently the shifts in her blade’s nature were accompanied by a somewhat dazzling lightshow and some rather disconcerting sounds. The commoners and their entertainers were finding it distracting, she decided. Anastastia’s gaze did not look amused. Vissannica pursed her lips a moment before speaking aloud.

You may continue.

She felt that was, perhaps, a better response than chastising them for pausing without her permission, but the subtle hint of frustration on Anastasia’s otherwise serene brow made her reconsider. Perhaps she had been too lenient?

Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win. said Livianus, as Vissannica used an ornate ceremonial knife to shear off a piece of the tendriculos for ritual sacrifice to the Dark Prince.

Vissannica had heard that sage wisdom many times in her years of Livianus’s tutelage, and it was a delight to see it come to fruition so perfectly. She relished the destruction she had wrought on the creature that had dealt her minions such a resounding defeat in their previous encounter.

A shock of alarm rang out of the blade a moment before the fungal creature lashed out a few ineffectual last attempts to devour its assailants. Fascinating, she thought. As she examined the creature more closely, she noted that it had been healing, not dead. She had read about regeneration, as several types of more powerful Devils were known to regenerate, but this was the first time she had witnessed it first hand. She would need to review her notes on the subject, and be more careful in the future. If there had been more of them, this might have been an issue. Instead, it was simple enough to destroy the creature with a gesture to her sorcerer.

She let her people dispose of the creature and search its layer for valuables, and let her sister consider their next move, discussing her considerations with their lessers like some sort of democrat. Vissannica tuned them out. She had handled her work for the day, and, for a change, things had gone according to plan. Yet her mind was not at peace.

And what of the wars to come, my love, what of the factions exploring our lands, claiming territory that is to be ours. Are we winning those wars? This was a battle. Nay, an execution. When do we learn of our foes to come? How do we plant spies in their councils? When do we raise our armies? she asked her blade, silently.

We are on a quest to kill the tree like creature that we encountered before. We buffed up and summoned a pony to bring out the “Character Eater”. The creature kills the pony immediately with an attack of opportunity. The fight commences. The creature tries to bite Zorthalus and misses. Carissa pops a Flaming Sphere for 12 points of damage. Vissannica deals 57 points of damage with a double attack. Z swings and hits doing 20 points of damage felling the creature. Unfortunately, it regenerates and came back alive, but we were able to quickly destroy it.

We begin to explore hex 6-8 as the night ends.

We camp for the night at Hex 6-8. During Z and Carissa take their watch, they notice a peculiar smell (lilac and honeysuckle) and see the fire flare up in a greenish hue. Up pops a large mutated fire elemental in explosion of fire doing light flame damage to everyone. Carissa zap it for 2 points with a Ray of Frost, Vissannica awakens and draws her blade enchanting it as she rises. She casts Shocking Grasp through her sword and deals 13 points of cold damage and 22 points of electricity.

The elemental goes next and strikes with four arms at Vissannica striking her down with 39 points of damage (putting her at -1 and on fire). Cringer gets struck for 8 points as it tries to engage. Dox casts FrostFall doing 10 points of damage, staggering the creature. Z strikes the creature doing 23 points of damage to the elemental, killing it.

We go back to sleep and head to 7-7 the next day. It’s a Plains locale and we find nothing of note during our exploration of it. We then head back to town.

Our magic shop created two items: Elixir of Truth and Incense of Meditation.

Word gets back from Rastovia that is rather harsh criticism of our expedition. Gregory is the one heading up the critical analysis of us. His words are pro-fae.

Vissannica’s stance on Grigori would be that he is clearly guilty of sedition and lese majeste and is likely an operative of a hostile faction, perhaps the fey or a rival faction in the stolen lands. She would ask herself “What would Thrune do?” and that would make her think there are two options for a foreign commoner who spreads lies and tries to foment rebellion against the monarchy.
A. Arrest, speedy trial, speedy execution. She would favor a non-public arrest, trial, and execution, as his entire goal is publicity. Perhaps determining where he sleeps and doing a night raid to incarcerate him. If he resists and is slain, well, accidents happen.
B. Disappear him. Basically assassinate him where he sleeps or somewhere else where it is out of the public eye and make it seem like he suddenly left town.

She would advocate for A, in her caustic and frustrating way, and not mention B.

She sees herself as the part of the government that is willing to do what needs to be done to enforce the status quo, and doesn’t care if looks bad or if people fear and hate her. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.
So if she began to suspect things might go too soft or too slow, she might consider it her duty as the spymaster, big sister, and Chelaxian noble to handle something like this discretely and on her own authority, perhaps using her spy network and contacts with the criminal elements to try to find out what she could about him, before discretely assassinating him (or at least trying) personally.

Metagaming, not sure that (Vissannica taking action on her own volition) would be something that would actually play out, since we generally make decisions as a committee of players, but role play-wise, it would be something she would be capable of, for better or worse.

From Bannigan’s perspective, given we are a young kingdom, a monarchy, and Chelaxian, I think it makes sense we go harsh suppression. We have no bill of rights, freedom of speech, free press, or any of that democracy in our blood or even experience. There is rule of law sure, but no one would speak out openly criticizing House Thrune, let alone a commoner or a foreigner and expect to live long. I hear Jason’s point that we haven’t explicitly passed a law against sedition and lese majeste, but we haven’t passed laws against murder or anything else either. We did mention using this list: https://campaign-24455.obsidianportal.com/wiki_pages/laws-of-cheliax which has Sedition as a High crime punishable by Death.

I would assume we had in fact passed laws against murder, sedition and a host of other things, being a highly LN or LN(E) country. We never really got to that level of granularity, but we also assumed there are roads in New Westcrown to get around. Had it been last party, with its heavy CG bent, it would be fair to wonder what the published legal code would look like. But not this group. Anastasia would have built off a foundation of Chelaxian law and, if anything, expanded from there. Quite likely there is a whole penal code section on Jaywalking. From a statistical standpoint, I'd point out that New Westcrown has +4 Law and -1 Crime. It's an intensely orderly place.

I'd agree with Bannigan that Chelaxian Law is a good place to start, and while we may not have a true Thailand-style law against criticizing the Monarchy, Sedition would seem to meet definition here. In that sense, legally, we quite likely could just haul this guy to court, try him, convict him and hang him. The concern with this, as well as with Bannigan's plans A & B above, is what happens next (more on that in a bit).

Anastasia's POV: She quite literary shocked and hurt that this whole Gregori thing has even happened. She spends the first few days processing it and rotating between anger and being just pouty. In many respect the main issue she sees is less about Gregori himself as those "green-hairs" that have sided with him. She more than once mentions Auch's name after Gregori's, and really has no issue with Gregori being tried and executed for Sedition....except that it wouldn't win back the hearts and minds of the people. She wouldn't overtly sign off on a hit-squad (aka Vissannica's Plan B) approach, but even with that her concerns is less about Gregori and more about winning back the support of the citizens lost. That said, she also very much feels the citizens owe us that support after all the hard work guiding them to the good things they have here. She'll only do so much bending over backwards before everyone with green hair is in Gregori's boat.

Tactically, Anastasia would focus on her role as Ruler: being present, personally taking charge of important functions and a visible sight at things like the dedication of the Bureau and the new Temple. Likewise, she would focus on her training as an Orator. She is VERY good at persuading people with big sweeping speeches, and would get back on a regular habit of giving anti-fey sermons (coupled now with point-by-point rebuttals of Gregori).

Nate's 2 cents: I'm mildly concerned that the Gregori "event" is directly out of the module, a module that didn't really count on a group of ruthless Chelaxians running the country. Patrick was fairly clear that a harsh suppression crackdown would likely work, at the expense of sizable Unrest. Maybe we say so be it? I like realism, so I could make my peace with that. But I'd like to think that we set the groundwork from the beginning for a Kingdom that was quite respectful of laws, society and it's leaders. So consider this my appeal to Patrick to perhaps dull the Unrest blow a bit if we do in fact go the harsh suppression route.

Last Thing: Vissannica "taking matters into her own hands" seems very realistic given the PC Bannigan has crafted. Anastasia would (likely to little effect) yell at her afterwards, but Nate would have zero issue with such an occurrence.

Dox agrees with both Viss and Ana.
Law has been "preached" to the population and applied (we have a jail after all)

The law is clear on sedition being a capital crime and Gregori's activities also clearly meet the definition "conduct or speech inciting people to rebel against the authority of a state or monarch."

Dox would support and encourage Ana to complete a public relations tour which would remind the common folk of all the threats that have been vanquished, the amenities built, the infrastructure improvements all while keeping taxes at a normal rate and relating these improvements to law and order.

During this period we investigate several items to include: Is Gregori a foreigner or one of our citizens, educational level, local family ties, vocation, ties to other kingdoms (or a home grown crack pot) and seek contacts/co-conspirators (someone is printing the pamphlets and providing the dye).

Once finished with the 2 items above, check Gregori's reaction. If he shrinks away in the face of actual truth (he would need an amazing bluff to counter Ana's persuasion skills speaking truth) I would favor a quiet arrest and sentencing. If he continues, I would favor a very public trial and execution.

Diplomacy checks may be used to gather information about Grigori.

Gather Info/Diplomacy Check 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (16) + 14 = 30

Carissa or others might be able aid another to add to this check, may or may not be necessary depending on what is rolled

It started here. Anastasia slowly walked across the raised dais while pointing across the crowd toward the castle gate. She had long since learned that a tempered gait and pause while the audience was riveted to what one said was an effective persuasion tactic. The priestess was even impressed by the gathering; her speeches, announced adroitly by Svetlana always brought decent numbers but the recent push against the “fey-lovers” as Vissannica had called them on more than one occasion was certainly gathering steam. Zorthalus’ “Moral Guidance Patrols” had helped deal a needed corrective check to those that would brazenly walk the streets sporting green hair or other tacit support to the demon-fey. A long overdue step.

Were we scared? Of course! Our small band, alone in the hellish wilderness with exactly none of the creature comforts we now take for granted in this fine city. None! No Inn for a meal, no foundry for supplies, no town hall to begin to structure the wretched chaotic landscape. No Temple, she motioned behind her to the new edifice being dedicated today, to remind us that the great god Abadar and all the deities that have blessed Cheliax were cheering us on. No, we faced that very spot, again her finger thrust out to the castle gate across the wide promenade as her voice rose, with nothing but the Will to make a better tomorrow! That very castle was once the abode of vile brigands that raped and pillaged the land, targeting anything and anyone bringing prosperity or security to the people. And what did the fey do while this was happening? Did they intervene? Did they stop these horrific attacks? Did the supplications from the people stir their hearts one bit? The crowd did not wait for their Queen to provide the rhetorical answer. NO! Anastasia echo’d their loud response. No, sadly you are correct, they did not. But why? Another long pause as she paced the dais. Because the fey do…not…care...for you. In fact, they resent your very presence. They thrive on lawless corruption. They are no better than demons! Who killed those loggers out doing good work in the land? Was it Councilor Svetlana? Anastasia swung to point suddenly at the somewhat shocked woman in the front row of the VIP section near the Temple entrance. NO! the crowd again responded. Was it our Protector Zorthalus? The armor man stood impassioned with no response, all composure. NO! the crowd roared. It…was…fey! They kill, they stand by while others kill and they are directly responsible for every bit of misery this land has ever known!

Anastasia indulged another long pause, letting the audience marinate in the intensity for a moment before proceeding in a softer tone. We could abide it all no longer. In Cheliax we saw the torture of this land and our hearts ached. It had to stop. The people, you good people! You needed to be allowed safely into the land of your destiny. This very land. So were we were scared. Yes. But we crashed through the very gate where the Castle now stands and gave Abadar’s justice to those bandits! Then, my loyal subjects, then it was the fey that knew fear. Because they knew all of their machinations: the wild beasts they loosed to assault the people, the waterways threatened by vile creatures, the malicious taunting they would capriciously inflict….it was all coming to an end. But blessed be you all! You are on the side of right! The side of progress! As we dedicate this Temple today, Abadar and all the proper deities cheer us on to continue our cultivation and purification of these lands. Correct those neighbors that slide back into the old ways! Let it be known we will not let vile superstitions or meaningless kow-towing to demon-fey stand! We have established a New Civilization and we will NOT let it go!

Stepping off the dais as the crowd roared, Anastasia proceeded to complete the ritual blessing of the new temple. Her sister stood next to her, as usual waryly scanning the crowd for threats. Smile Viss, Anastasia said with a wink and a grin only the elf could see. We are turning the tide, slowly but surely.

Feb 12th 2019 session notes

Upon returning from their latest expedition, taming the lands of their growing kingdom, the Chelaxian rulers took seriously the threat and insult presented by Grigori’s seditious campaign, not least because he had managed to strike a chord with the young nation’s youth, “green hairs” in particular.

Queen Anastasia consulted closely with all available sources of information, and weighed her options carefully. She did not wait long to act however, as the correct and righteous course became quite clear, particularly once it was determined that the bard was of common birth, and a foreigner from Pitax besides. King Castruccio Irovetti was no ally of Cheliax, and it did not take an astute political mind to suspect his meddling in this demagoguery.

What was slightly less clear was how her subjects, having only been under her reign for a year, would react to such an execution. While Zorthalus and his guards, aided by Vissannica’s witchcraft, arrested the agitator and brought him, in chains, before trial, the Queen took to the pulpit, and used her own considerable skills at oratory to refute the various half-truths the bard had seeded in the public mind. She reminded her people of the great strides that had been made for the common man during the short tenure of her rule, placing the blame for any disasters where it belonged, on the fey.

It appeared to have been enough, and there was no unrest when it became known that the bard Grigori had been found guilty of sedition and executed by the terrifying, if simple, Royal Enforcer, Auchs. That Lady Vissannica later stole some of his arcane power through ritual blood magic, imbibing a full pint of the portly minstrel’s vital fluid, was not a talking point, nor was the giggling glee with which the Royal Enforcer carried out his grim duty.

However, the campaign against the seditious acts did not end there.

While the trend of green haired youth had never been tolerated before, it had managed to persist despite some significant detriments. With Grigori dealt with, the Chelaxian rulers put a hold on further exploration, and began a multi-faceted assault on the flagrant expression of solidarity with the accursed fey, determined to eradicate it once and for all.

Queen Anastasia left the economic concerns of the country in her sister’s capable hands, and dedicated her full attention to rooting out the subtle undercurrent of sympathy for the fey.

Massive tax incentives were given to businesses that would refuse work or services to anyone suspected of sympathizing with the fey, to the extent that the nation’s tax revenue was reduced to none.

The capital’s shrine was upgraded to a full temple of Abadar and the other gods of civilization and order, with a grand opening that spared no expense.
Further from the capital, a dance hall, closed to anyone associated with a green hair, was built in Olegsburg, showing the rulers also knew how to cater to their subjects’ baser instincts when useful.

Zorthalus’s guards, under the Hellknight’s strict tutelage, took a forceful hand in dealing with any green hairs who dared walk bareheaded in public, and, while they never stepped outside the strict codes that bound their actions, were able to make things extremely uncomfortable for any particularly brazen youth. More than one such youth, when found guilty of even the most minor infraction, would find themselves shaved bald as summary punishment.

The young nation's 13th month concluded, and the campaign against fey sympathy continued to be the focus of the Rasdovian government.

Feb 19th 2019 session notes

The campaign to stomp out the green hairs continued for a few months before the fad was fully expunged. The youths were brought back into line through a multi-faceted effort, and they found themselves derisively renamed the shorn by their elders. A new trend emerged as hellknights came into fashion, and children began playfully emulating the behavior of Zorthalus and his guards.

The rulers of Rasdovia were not wholly consumed with the campaign, and also took the fight for order into the forests of the Narlmarches. A settlement was formed around the ancient temple of Erastil, whose restoration was begun. High Priest Jhod was a vocal advocate for this new venture, and moved his residence to the new to personally shepherd its new growth. Apellated Axius, the town is dedicated to being a bulwark of faith in the pantheon of Law.

While the guard was busy stomping out nascent unrest, the Warden Doxentine and General Akiros were not idle. An army of lion-riding archers was recruited, outfitted, and trained, and stationed in the capital.

And while the young kingdom continued to tame the wild Stolen Lands, rumors and news arrived. Undead to the east, the Stag Lord risen, a rumor only surely. But reports of trolls and lizardfolk to the south raise concerns. Further abroad, there is word of another growing town to the east in the Nomen Heights, one Varnhold founded by Willis Gunderson. Furthermore, growing tensions between Issia and Restov have brought troops to Fort Serenko, east of Olegsburg along the main traderoute to the kingdom.

The rulers bear all this in mind once they find themselves ready to resume their exploration of their southern reach. Having heard disturbing tales of Candlemere tower on an island not far to the south of their capital, hired a boat to sail out and investigate the haunted isle.

Feb 26th 2019 session notes

In Axius, the Temple of Erastil is restored, and the inaugural festival is a major event from the kingdom. A massive pilgrimage from all the nearby cities and countryside results in a strong bid of support for the new regime. The connection to Erastil and the old temple allow the local people to understand that these gods of order are their own heritage, and the rulers are seen as restorers of old ways, not just bringers of change. There is much rejoicing.

With their kingdom once again firmly in their grip, the Chelaxians set out to tame new territory. A naval vessel is commissioned to transport them to Candlemere island where they discover a disquieting scene. Shifting lights, ominous mist and poisonous nettles protect the central tower from approach. After spending the night safely in Doxentine’s hidden campsite, the Lionheart bends the flora to his will, and his deep understanding of the mysteries of nature allow him to call the plants to diminish.

Thus the conquerors approach the 40’ ancient tower unhindered. Entering the small outbuilding, they hear gibberish whispers in their mind. Vissannica recognizes the words as Sylvan, but can make no sense of them. Exploring the outbuilding, a shoveling sound is the only precursor to a pit opening up, though none are harmed. All escape to the edge save Vissannica, but the Lady’s witchcraft allows her to float elegantly into the pit before flying back to hover above it. Her grace is somewhat foiled by her altered form, having taken on the eyes and nose of a bugbear to enhance her scent and sight in the darkness, if not her own odor. The pit refills as mysteriously as it emptied, this time accompanied by moans as well as shoveling sounds. Nonplussed, Vissannica opens a door to spot four undead creatures coming to life in the glow of the party’s light spells. But before the creatures could attack, she tosses a dancing light into their midst and shuts the door, perhaps giving her allies time to prepare.

March 19th 2019 session notes

Zorthalus and Carissa move into position before the creatures throw open the door. The ravenous beasts meet a torrent of steel and fire, killing two of the four. The remaining foes attempt to tear into Vissannica with teeth and claws, but her magical protection, along with her tactical use of the doorframe, prevent any blows from drawing blood.

Anastasia recognizes the creatures. Ghouls! Not powerful, but they can paralyze with their strikes, she educates, before exhorting Zorthalus and Vissannica to battle on with greater focus.

The ghouls are quickly dispatched, with Doxentine’s flaming sphere and a brand from House Rasovain’s ancestral blade.

A cursory search reveals the room and its surrounds to be decayed, perhaps abandoned to the undead a century ago, or less.

The conquerors press on, ignoring the stairs at first and finding more ghoul-like creatures, these markedly quicker…and smellier. Again the beasts are quickly slain with steel and fire.

A magical device is discovered, though its purpose escapes the combined knowledge of the Rasdovian nobility. It is composed of wires attaching a divination pool, invocation and transmutation magical devices. An ironbound chest is locked, and no key is found. With questions but no answers presenting themselves, the party moves on to clear the tower of obvious threats, planning to later return to scour the rotting book shelves.

Pausing to invoke more powerful preparatory spells, the Chelaxians ascend the spiral staircase in the center of the tower, and Lady Vissannica leads them through the first door they find.

Inside she sees a shadow, an insubstantial creature of darkness and death, recognizing it instantly from her martial studies. Zorthalus leaps ahead of her into the room to take a point position, and Vissannica circles around the incorporeal foe before it can react. Plunging her black blade into its core, the creature is destroyed as arcane energies pulse out from the strangely translucent rapier. A deadly combination of force magic and electricity slay the creature in a single blow. Vissanica hears Livianus Rasdovain murmur in approval, a rare hint of joy in his telepathic tone.

The victory celebration is brief as two more of the shadows emerge, and the battle continues.

Carissa flings a ray of fire at the shadow, but it evades her sorcery. Rasdovia’s monarch begins an inspiring oration, and her allies are bolstered with fierce resolve. The Hellknight, so inspired, strikes a deadly blow with his enchanted glaive, but the incorporeal creature survives. Its nature is such that much of the force of the blow does not mark it, though it was clearly injured.

Vissannica once again summons arcane electricity into her blade, and closes with the third shadow. Her blade is once again black steel rather than raw magical force, but aided by her sister’s divine imprecations, two strikes land true, and combined with the surge of electrical discharge, the shadow succumbs to destruction.

Dark energies swirl as the surviving shadow closes on the Hellknight. His impressive armor will be no aid against the draining touch of the ghostly undead. Yet luck is with Zorthalus, Warden of the realm, and the touch of creature is deflected by the protective magic surrounding the Hellknight.

Queen Anastasia contemplates her next action…

April 3rd, April 9th 2019 session notes

Anastasia calls forth Abadar’s divine wrath upon the creature of manifest darkness, and its form is bound into rigid patterns before shattering into nothingness.

The shadows destroyed, the party explores the rest of the tower, discovering that the top levels are as clean and organized as the lower levels are rotting and grimy.

At the top of the tower, the party encounters two will o wisps, which flee before the Chelaxian’s might.

The rulers leave the island, aware that they have done what could be done, if not satisfied to leave the land unready for civilization.

Before returning to the capital, they venture further south along the river, and discover the home of the lizardfolk. Rumors of the violence of these reptilian humanoids leave the Rasdovian royalty little choice in dealing with these creatures, as they had clearly set up a holding on land that was not theirs.

The party prepares for an assault, and breaks in to be met with the main force of lizardfolk, led by their lizard king.

Quickly finding themselves surrounded by the larger force, the party focuses on the king hoping to fell him and subjugate or enslave his people, despite his intimidating stance. Defending his home with great furor, the lizard king manages to resist a hex, avoid Dox’s flaming sphere, and parry strikes from Zorthalus and Vissannica, while landing a vicious assault on the Hellknight. Only Carissa’s magical fire scorches him. Anastasia, her prayers bolstering the party and weakening the foes, heals Zorthalus of much of his wounds.

The Lizard King proved to be quite formidable deflecting attacks from both Z and V. Having full faith in them, Dox was not yet too concerned believing they would land their next blows in a few seconds.

Then everything changed as monster lizards rose from the swamp to charge our rear. Not having a strong response, Dox extends the flank hoping to spread them out. If they do not concentrate all their attacks on one of us Z & V have a chance to peal away and shore up the rear guard.

It is a bit of a gamble and we shall see if the gods will shine fortune upon us.

April 16th session notes

Surveying the battlefield, Vissannica realizes the crocodiles closing from behind have exposed their vulnerable support ranks. Enraged by the possibility of defeat, she screeches out an incantation just before the lizardfolk are able to surge forth with their latest assault. A blast of sticky glittering dust blankets their king, and many of the warriors. Blinded by the glowing dust, the lizard king strikes out at Zorthalus with his trident and still manages to find a weak point in the Hellknight’s armor. Once skewered, the king bites down on him like so much chicken satay. Zorthalus still stands his ground, staggering, until two of the king’s minions who avoided the blindness strike him down with ringing blows from their morning stars.

Doxentine tries to slow the approach of the crocodiles by calling down frost upon them, but they shrug it off and close in to strike at Carissa and Cringer. Carissa is bitten, but manages to avoid the grip of the croc’s maw. She returns fire with a dazzling color spray, rendering one of the crocodiles stunned and blinded.

Vissannica, having seen Zorthalus fall, now finds herself surrounded by the remaining lizardfolk, the blinded but still dangerous lizard king, and a crocodile, cut off from her sister and the rest of her allies. Briefly she considers using her flight to retreat, as two images may not be enough to deflect the attacks, and they had her flanked. She feels more than hears her blade’s caution before stepping in close to the king and once again calling forth arcane electricity to imbue the Lion’s Claw she wields. This time, her strikes find their mark, and a loud crackling of electricity, searing fire, and cruelly accurate placement conspire to end the king’s reign once and for all. The lizardfolk are routed.

Dox calls forth a leopard who pounces, ending a crocodile’s life, freeing Cringer to step before Carissa. The fire sorceress’s fan of flame ends the lives of the blinded lizardfolk too confused to flee, and Anastasia’s voice, calling out in crisp draconian, along with Vissannica’s corralling flight, call the rest of the lizardfolk to drop the weapons and submit to Rasdovian rule.

While Queen Anastasia explained the terms of the reptilian humanoid’s surrender, the rest of the Rasdovians explored the small village. Discovering a tunnel from the king’s squalid hut into a nearby hovel, they discovered a human boy being tormented by lizardfolk children. The boy, the missing Tig the party had heard of, had been a captive to be sacrificed to the will o the wisps from the tower. Zorthalus asked the boy who, of the lizardfolk had been his worst tormentor. The boy pointed to one, and Zorthalus took the child’s head off in a single slice. The summary execution served to punctuate Anastasia’s words of subjugation.

Returning from the stable walking through New Westcrown does little to improve the mood of the Warden after the near failure of the assault on the subhuman’s village. “Stupid!” he spits out for the hundredth time since mounting for the return home. His mind retracing the battle… “Stupid for not reconnoitering the village, stupid for not securing their rear, stupid for assuming subhuman meant less powerful than human.”

Well, Harpy was in the hands of the groomers and he had a pile of paperwork awaiting him in his office in the castle. He was almost looking forward to doing something that would not end up with him face down in the mud. Who would have thought he would reach a point where the orderliness of his command duties could be more fulfilling than crushing these hedge worshipers. He needed to spend some time in the Reckoning to bring his thoughts into greater focus.

As Z passes the library, he remembers his request for books on the Gods of the Fey. Perhaps they have arrived. He ducks into the building noting, that even since the last time he was here, what was once just a nondescript building is now taking on the appearance of a place of knowledge. The simple façade taking on a more Chelaxian architectural feel. Leave it to Her Majesty to apply form to every function.

With three tombs under his arm, (The Eldest Known To Golarion, Understanding the Green Mother, and Magdh: Three Faces) Zorthalius leaves the library and heads straight to his chambers. Dropping the books, he sheds his armor and traveling gear once again thinking he needs to retain a squire for these more mundane tasks. He does not trust a palace servant to care for his equipment. After stowing his weapons and oiling his armor, he bathes, dresses and heads to his office back towards the gates of the palace. He chose this location despite (what passes for) the Majordomo’s insistence someone of his position should be located closer to the throne. Someone in his position needs to be located closer to where the enemies will appear.

The Hellknight Aspirant’s office is luxurious bordering on gaudy. Just because he is located far from the throne room, does not mean he can’t enjoy some of the finer points of living in a castle. One of Rictor Stought’s many sayings coming to mind, “Sleep on the ground if you must, but if you sleep in a bed, make it a grand bed.” Well, it is a grand desk and chair at least. I think she would approve, considering the amount of mud he had been eating since coming to this place. There it is again. His mind cluttered with frustration and near failures. Z needed time to meditate and perfom his Reckoning.

Turning to the corner behind his large desk he approaches an equally ostentatious shrine. A decorative arrow and bow hang on the wall behind it, a red pentagram next to a familiar sword and sun are carved on its front. Upon the alter to the left is a spiked chain and to the right a golden key. He let’s his eyes rest on each symbol and item as his mind begins its familiar recitation…

• I, Zorthalius Corvinian will not tolerate the weight of unfit gods upon mortal shoulders.
• My fire will burn those thickets of philosophy that crowd the path of progress.
• Blasphemy knows no borders—land or sea. I will pursue it where I must, and where I find it, I will be relentless.
• Zealots walk the path of destruction, regardless of the names on their lips.
• I will not mistake clever trickery for power or power for divinity.
• Manipulators of divine magic and esoteric eldritch powers must prove their trustworthiness to me, for trust breeds dangerous complacency.
• I will focus my iron scrutiny on any faith I find appealing. Whatever I worship must be worthy of me.

That last line still escapes him. He finds no one faith appealing, seeing order and prosperity in all of the Chelaxian Gods. It is the first line that brought him to the gates of Citadel Krane and then to this God’s Forsaken hole. Unfit Gods! Thickets of Philosophy! That is why he is here. That is what he must focus on as he looks to the center of the altar. There sits a simple fire pot and a small crucible of oil. He removes the lid of the pot and the familiar smell of coal burning begins to fill the office. Slowly rolling his sleeves above his elbows, he pours the oil into the pot watching as flames begin to dance. Standing at parade rest, he extends his arms over the flames at first enjoying the warmth. Then the discomfort begins and finally the cleansing pain. Doubt shrivels, regret burns, hesitation boils away, leaving only clarity of purpose.

EVENT

A small group of fighting men lead by a lad named Aaron Farn requests an audience with the rulers of New Westcrown. Svetlana informs the party that the man claims to be a representative of Varnhold, a new city founded in the Dunsward area of the Stolen Lands. They brought a large covered wagon with them as they came into town.

EVENT

A small group of fighting men lead by a lad named Aaron Farn requests an audience with the rulers of New Westcrown. Svetlana informs the party that the man claims to be a representative of Varnhold, a new city founded in the Dunsward area of the Stolen Lands. They brought a large covered wagon with them as they came into town.

** spoiler omitted **

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** spoiler omitted **

** spoiler omitted **

know geography: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

know nobility: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32

Vissannica will share what she knows with Anastasia.

Prior to meeting with the arrivals, Anastasia will ask Z to have a contingent of guards keep an eye on the covered wagon

Sitting on the throne in the castle's Royal Hall, Anastasia nodded as Vissannica whispered in her ear. She listened intently regarding the nearby geography, but a sideways glance of her eyes let her sister know that the lineage information regarding Maegar Varn was already known. She then turned to the steward near the vaulted main doors. Show them in.

The decision to have the visitors wait for a bit had been strategic. Varnhold was less established than New Westcrown, and in any event Anastasia wished to establish a sense of superiority over the arrivals. They were clearly here for a negotiation of some sort, and negotiations were best done from a position of strength.

All of the Kingdom leadership had been gathered in the Royal Hall, in full regalia. Anastasia herself wore her finest, along with her heirloom jewelry and tiara that had become the de facto Crown of Rasdovia. Mounted Lion-Riders in full battle gear, under Doxentine's watchful eye of course, completed the impressive array in the hall. Scanning the room, Anastasia's eyes lingered on Akiros. By Abadar he is handsome... Of late she had taken to requesting a few more Military Briefings than was really necessary, feeling both awkward and thrilled through each. She was not sure if Akiros reciprocated the feelings but when she had him explain for the 3rd time typical Aldori field tactics she sensed he may have caught on.

A sharp cough from Vissannica brought Anastasia back to the present moment, and she quickly shut away the bloom of embarrassment as her sister gave her a disapproving look. Don't look at him, just focus on what needs to be done! Smoothing her dress and adjusting her crown, she faced forward and awaited the arrivals.

The time in the Capital has been well spent. Looking over the final dispatches, Z feels as prepared as he can for the upcoming trek to explore the northwestern reaches of their Writ. Much has been accomplished since their return from the Candlemere Tower and the Lizards encroachment (He refuses to think of them as Lizardmen just because they walk on 2 legs.) The expansions have meant spreading his already thin resources even thinner. A visit to Axium to see how his new commander there is performing is long overdue. Messages never convey the true state of a battlefield, only seeing, hearing, and smelling.

Looking over the shelf of closed cases, he feels a true sense of accomplishment, werewolves defeated, a green haired insurgence snuffed out, and a new settlement in the making. Rubbing his eyes, he reaches for his ceil and wax to finish the days work and begin preparations for the journey to come…

Dispatches from the Office of the Warden…
________________________________________________________

To: Treasurer Oleg

The newly established settlement known as Tasselford will require coin to outfit an initial guard enlistment similar to that of Axium. Please make the proper arrangements to have the funds sent to the new leadership there. I will be making my way there soon to inspect their progress. Your swift attention to this situation is much appreciated.

__________________________________________________________

Oleg seems somewhat adept at his job, at least he does not question every copper that Z requests. Every military person knows that keeping the hand that holds the purse strings happy is as essential to winning a battle as keeping your soldiers bellies full and feet well cared for.
___________________________________________________________

To: Spymistress Vissannica

As you most likely already know, the number of “green hairs” has diminished to almost none. Lately, we have seen an interesting twist to this fashion statement. Many citizens have taken to dying their hair deep shades of red and black. All indications are that this is to identify in opposition to the now defunct “green hairs.” That said, any unsanctioned movement by the populous should be closely watched. I offer this only as information.

________________________________________________________

I still do not know how that women gets her information. It is as if she is sitting in the inn every night listening, invisible to those speaking around her. Z rereads the message making doubly sure he is not inferring any action be taken by the crazy elf lady. No doubt, such a perceived overstepping would end with a knife in his back.

__________________________________________________________

To: The Royal Magister

Magister Clarissa, the Diabolic Guard has noticed a considerable increase in school aged children loitering in the streets of New Westcrown. We are unsure if children are purposefully avoiding school or if we are seeing an influx of children from outside of the city. We need direction on how you would like the Guards to take care of these soon to be urchins.

___________________________________________________________

Finishing off the last dispatches Z stands and opens the door to call for a page. Standing shocked at the door her hand poised to knock a young page jumps back in surprise. He hands the stack of messages to the young women and instructs her to have them delivered before midday tomorrow. She nods quietly and starts to turn away. Z clears his throat and she turns back realizing she had a message to deliver. You are requested to attend her Majesty in the Throne Room with all haste and to have a guard set on the wagon currently in the courtyard. Lady Vissannica suggests you attend in formal attire.

Z turns to the guard posted at his door, Private, please see that the wagon is secured and heads to his quarters to change. Knowing that formal attire in Vissannica’s mind was as intimidating as possible, he donned his armor, grabbed his weapons and headed for the Throne Room.

Again, Carissa kicks herself for not having been exposed to the 'teachings' of the privileged in areas such as Geography and Nobility. So, when the new contingent from Varnhold arrive with their covered wagon, she decides to watch from nearby. Not overly trusting, she defers to Anastasia to 'sort out' the newcomers as she has been known to fall for trickery before. Cursed nobles and their silver tongues. Well, if the talks go sideways, she'll be ready to pounce...

Once all have gathered in the hall, a handsome well-dressed young man enters with two older, grizzled looking veterans by his side. He strides in with an effort to show confidence, and bows politely before beginning a seemingly rehearsed speech.

"Greetings Neighbors, I am Aaron Varn of Varnhold. I am here on behalf of my father, Maegar Varn, the Governor of Varnhold. We had heard of the great success of New Westcrown and wish to congratulation you on all you have accomplished under the Swordlord's Writ. We of Varnhold have had similar success, and we have reached the point where we wish to formalize relations with our neighbors with trade agreements."

"Your subjugation of the wild woods of the Narlmarshes is impressive, as is the bounty of lumber that your sawmills are producing. In Varnhold, we have likewise taken control of the resources within our writ, and our tin, copper, and iron mines are all producing well.

"My father had the thought that rather than each selling our goods in the markets of Restov, it might be best if we dealt directly with each other in trade and deny the merchants an unnecessary share of what we each have worked so hard to earn."

"My father has empowered me to broker fair terms, lumber for ore, if you are so inclined."

Finishing his speech, the youth's chest puffs up a bit in what seems to be combined pride and relief.

[spoiler=OOC Behind the Curtain]
While the roleplaying of establishing relations and negotiating positions is encouraged, the decision is binary as to whether you establish terms or do not establish terms.
[/ooc]

Knowledge Nobility 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Sense Motive 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Know Nobility: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28

Vissannica will share what she knows with Anastasia.

1d20 ⇒ 10+4

Anastasia rested back in her throne, an acknowledging wave of her hand as the young man bowed to her. Good, he has seen our arrayed strength and will bring back word of Hellknights and lions to his father. They will know they are dealing with a superior force, crucial in such negotiations. Aaron Varn of Varnhold.....I will spare you the repetition of the lengthy list of titles my herald introduced me as when you arrived, and simply say I am Queen Anastasia of Rasdovia, proudly of Chelaxian lineage, may Queen Abrogail be praised. Here you will address me as Your Highness, as I am sure you know given your newly found....royal status. Anastasia kept a smile throughout, her words designed to come across a polite but firm correction.

Now, as for our success in forging not only Rasdovia itself, but also New Westcrown, Olegsburg, Axius and other thriving towns in these formerly forsaken wilds we give thanks to the Great god Abadar, and all the deities of Cheliax for our bountiful achievement. That is delightful to hear that you have sought to bring the boon of Civilization to your lands as well! Mines and the materials they bring forth are truly one of Abadar's kindnesses to us all.

Now, before we begin negotiations with regards to trade, you really must tell me about your lands! How did you proceed? What creatures did you face? What remaining threats are there? And of course I must here of your towns and the amenities therein! Oh and your Army! How have you built and maintained it! Spare no detail, I find it all so fascinating. She leaned forward in throne with pleased anticipation, a bright innocent interest masking a purposeful effort to put the young man on the spot for information.

She'll prompt here as needed to glean more, but moving on for sake of completeness

So, as to trade. Unfortunately, I fear your father has limited you with regards to the terms to which could be agreed. Anastasia's words were conveyed with a kind of resigned sadness, along with forcefully denoting her ability to see through subterfuge and trickery. A pity really, you seem such a nice young man it would be a shame to send you back with no deal in hand. And it would be so unfair the blame your father would place on you! How were you to know we have mines of our own already? Anastasia shook her with a vexed look. Well, we shan’t have it. While I really have no especial need for the contents of your mine, I am the Queen after all and if I wish to do you a favor, I shall. Swinging to her right to point a finger at Vissannica she added, Ah! Not one word Royal Advisor! I am going to help this young man out! Looking back at Aaron Varn, she went on, Here is what we will do. Tell me the maximum amount of ore your father would allow you to provide for lumber. We will agree to those terms; anything less will look suspicious given our numerous mines here. And as I said of course your father would not permit you to show the boldness necessary to go beyond his limits. Here Anastasia let a faraway look hit her eyes for a moment, or perhaps he has that old Issian fondness for boldness, never rewarded until shown, hmmm. Appearing to snap back to the negotiations, she added, ah well, so, your father's maximally allowed terms, do we have a deal?

1d20 ⇒ 1

Bill apparently was rolling To Hit

…the thing I am unable to fathom is that many of the Eldest are of an orderly mind. Erastil himself is often worshipped by the fey. If worship is even a word that is part of their limited vocabulary. I assumed that all of the Fey Gods were like the Lantern King, tricksters who seek only to sew chaos where order is needed. Demanding useless tribute that could be better served towards the greater good. The Count Ranalc seems to also fit the fey mindset as an exile and proud breaker of rules.

Z feels the burning hatred for the worship of chaos begin to take root in his belly. He clenches his glaive more tightly feeling its palpable thirst for the blood of the fey becoming a feeling he finds both comforting and invigorating. He must continue to understand his enem… Wait! Did someone just say his name.

Z quickly looks around realizing he had been completely distracted by his own thoughts and has no idea what has transpired. He tries to take an intimidating stance, but only succeeds in looking constipated.

The men from the upstart colony Varnhold do not much impress Vissannica. The location of the colony is, however, interesting to her. Restov is a city famed for it’s dueling academies, and, while dueling itself is of little interest, a number of accomplished military scholars are known to be among their faculty.

Vissannica had in her library at least one text on battle strategy written by an Aldori Swordlord, and found it to be a worthy tome. She was beginning to see the wisdom of their writs, as an efficient way of securing their southern border while dealing with threats to the north. It would be hard not to choose them as an ally, at least in the near term, when Pitax is to the southwest.

Restov is also a large “free” city known to harbor malcontents, and lack a proper respect for nobility.

Proximity to such a city would present both opportunities and challenges, she mused. Perhaps if trade ties were secured, Restov could be impressed upon to aid against Pitax despite their troubles to the north, should that city become a serious problem. She hadn’t been able to confirm the bard had been their agent, but she strongly suspected.

Ask your sister to inquire about the Silver Dragon. Have they had contact with it? Have they met any resistance to their settlement? commanded Livianus.

Vissannica had been planning to do just that, wondering if any threats flushed out from their new neighbors settlement might attempt to enter Rasdovia. She felt both pleased and annoyed at the suggestion, as her desire to earn her blade’s approval warred with her sense of her own growing independence. She attempted to stifle both feelings, before whispering the request in her sister’s ear from her position beside the throne. She also asked if there could be a delicate inquiry as to the trade needs of Restov, should the boy be aware.

The negotiations are quickly concluded to the satisfaction of both sides. There is no question that the youth is overmatched, but his limitations in what he is capable of agreeing to keep the bargain from being one-sided. Regular shipments of ore for lumber are set, employing teamsters from each side to travel from Olegsburg to Varnhold.

(+2 Economy as long as the trade continues).

When asked about the dragon he says, "We have seen it flying on rare occasion, but have not approached it. We have had to fight for the land, the mountains held orcs, ogers, and goblins. Fortunately they warred with each other as much as threatened us. There are still many untamed areas within our writ, and it will take time to simply map the region let alone fully explore it. Teams of adventurers have assisted, though some travelling into the mountains have not returned."

Having succeeded where they could with the traders from Varnhold, the party set out to further explore the lands of their writ. Passing through Axius and noting, with some satisfaction, the progress made in eliminating the influence of the fey, the rulers continued to the unexplored northeastern quadrant of their writ. With Garund’s guidance, they dispatched a group of giant frogs. They also unearthed a barbarian cairn, as it was of an unsanctioned religious tradition, and found a ring of swimming.

On their way back to the capital and their duties, they spotted a wyvern flying overhead. Vissannica, calling upon a scroll to guide her accuracy, sank an arrow into it midflight from a few hundred feet away. Enraged, it charged the party, only to be met with Corinna’s scorching ray and Dox’s frostfall which left it burnt, frostbitten, and staggered, forcing it to abort its charge. Thinking better of the battle, it attempted to escape. Vissannica, having been bolstered by her own magic and her sister’s prayers, gave chase alone. When the beast turned to face her, liking its odds better in one on one combat, it fell victim to her slumber hex, and she dispatched it with an electrified coup de grace.

The Rasdovian elite returned to their capital with a wyvern head trophy to adorn the town’s Inn.

After spending two weeks in their urban duties, the party once again set out to explore their lands. A quick jaunt east found little of note, and the party headed back west by way of Tatzlford to investigate Garund’s report of the statue of Erastil. The statue was found, it was impressive if unkept, and Vissannica noted the lack of wildlife approaching it. It could not be determined if this was a sanctuary or a curse, though no harm was discerned. It was decided that Jhod, the high priest and resident of Axius should be made aware of the location, and sent to further investigate, perhaps creating a sacred site as a place of pilgrimage.

The party then returned to their capital and their duties as rulers. Level up!

May 28th session notes

Spending two months training and governing in their capital, the Rasdovian leaders put significant resources into their newest settlement, Tatzlford.

The Order of the Pyre’s mission to purge blasphemous zealots with fire and steel gained a powerful new force in the Stolen Lands when Zorthalus Corvinian, Warden of the growing kingdom of Rasdovia, was formally inducted into their ranks. Despite his youth, his instrumental role in the stamping out of the insidious “Green Hairs” as an aspirant has garnered quiet approval from the Order’s Lictors.

Together with the Queen’s rising star amongst the priesthood of Abadar, which, like the Hellknights, is widely recognized for it’s impartiality and fairness in matters of the law, Rasdovia is becoming a haven for honest traders, craftsmen, and laborers, assuming they are willing to convert to an acceptable religion.

The Hellknight’s formal induction has had other impacts as well, in the subtle realms of Avistani politics, further strengthening the bond between Cheliax and Rasdovia.

The rulers set out to visit Tatzlford, to formally recognize the new Shrine there, and continue on to explore an abandoned keep.

On the way they meet with the dryad and satyr who have been providing assistance in relations with the local fey, as well as generally aiding the stability of the realm. There is some discussion about the appropriateness of such citizens in their claimed lands, but it is decided that so long as they fey behave themselves, they will not be run out for their race alone.

Once again proving the wisdom of the Queen and her advisors, the dryad proves herself useful again, and is able to provide intelligence about the foes the party will face in the abandoned keep. The Dancing Lady and her consorts, a quickling and a grim stalker have taken up residence there.

Much more prepared, the party enters the ancient elven keep, and begins to hunt down its dark fey inhabitants. Unfortunately, the dryad did not mention the swarms of rats in the north east tower, and the revolting mass of vermin spills out to attack the revolted Chelaxians.

______________________________________________________

_______________________________________________

Z muses, “We are nearing the time where simple roads will give way to highways and traffic will only increase. We will need to begin building garrisons in more than name in the future if we are to continue to protect and serve our growing nation.”

With the last dispatches completed, Z looks forward to sleep. The next foray out to further the domination of this wilderness begins on the morrow. As he leaves his office he glances at the altar and commits to rising early to perform his Reckoning before their party leaves New Westcrown. He never feels as focused out in the wilds.

Much like his office, Zorthalius’ rooms in the palace are beyond ostentatious. He settles into his feather bed, already missing it as he thinks of the days to come most likely sleeping in some inn at best, in a tent at worst. Numbers of guards, food stores, and smithing counts slowly run through his head as he drifts off to sleep…

…Zorthalius!

…ATTEND!

Z startles awake on a simple cot, in a stone room. He stands already dressed in his armor, his glaive in hand. He opens the door and enters the hallway as he has done for years. The familiar smell of rich food, oiled leather, and steel permeate the air. The distant clang of warriors in training fill his ears with a warm feeling of belonging.

…ZORTHALIAS! ATTEND!

Z stands in a room he has never seen before. In front of him is a crucifix in the shape of an X. It stands empty. Behind it is a stone wall with the sigil of a burning tower. He can feel the heat from the flames of the wall as if it were burning.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z stands naked in a room he has never seen before. In front of him is a crucifix in the shape of an X. It stands empty. Behind it is a stone wall with the sigil of a burning tower. He begins to burn from the heat of the flames on the wall.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is naked in a room he has never seen before. He is strapped to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Behind him a stone wall is emblazoned with the sigil of a burning tower. He burns from the heat of the flames on the wall.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is naked in a room he has never seen before. He is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Behind him a stone wall is emblazoned with the sigil of a burning tower. His eyes shrivel and his ears crisp from the heat of the flames on the wall. Z tries to scream, but he has no voice.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is a burnt husk in a room he has never seen before. He is blind. He is deaf. He is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Behind him a stone wall is emblazoned with the sigil of a burning tower. He is burning.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is a burnt husk.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is a burnt husk. Z dies.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is dead.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

Z is dead.

Aspirant, embrace the reckoning…

Z is dead.

Aspirant, this is your true reckoning…

Z is dead.

So be it…

Z is dead.

The husk whimpers.

Aspirant, is this your true reckoning?

The husk whimpers.

Aspirant, open your eyes.

The husk has no eyes.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk’s eyes snap open. Before it floats two luminescent yellow cat eyes.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Before it is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The husk tries to scream. The husk has no voice.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Before it is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The devil reaches forward and touches the husk’s chest. The husk feels its heart begin to beat anew.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Before it is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The devil reaches forward and rips the beating heart of the husk from its chest. The husk does not die.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. Before him is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The devil devours the heart of the husk. The husk lives.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. He is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. One arm is no longer nailed to the crucifix. Before It is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The devil smiles with the blood of the husk on its lips.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. One arm is free. Before it is a devil. Its eyes can see nothing else. The devil smiles. The husk stabs his hand into the belly of the devil and retrieves a heart.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. It is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. One arm is free. Before it is a devil. His eyes can see nothing else. The devil no longer smiles. The husk holds in its hand a heart.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is naked in a room. He is nailed to a crucifix in the shape of an X. One arm is free. Before him is a devil. His eyes can see nothing else. The devil no longer smiles. The husk devours his heart.

ASPIRENT! ATTEND!

The husk is born anew his heart pounding in his chest. The devil smiles again.

HELLNKNIGHT! ATTEND!

Z opens his eyes laying quietly in his featherbed. He tastes blood on his tongue.

The Hellknight smiles.

Since being 'dropped' off at New Westcrown some time ago, Carissa had developed a bond with her fellow adventurers. Excited at seeing the new kingdom coming together, she jumped at the chance to be the chief magister, as she had so many questions about her ancestral past and the unknown abilities that she awakened that fateful evening. At first she wanted to teach the foundations and importance of Law to all inhabitants of this kingdom. However, as time passed by, her impatience about not knowing about her ancestral history and how dragon-spawn were created and came into powers, festered in the back of her mind. She started introducing doctrines and mandates that demanded exploration and investigations into everything dragon and fire based. Always an impatient child growing up, she knew she should wait to explore these things herself, but the temptation of 'guiding' a larger population into assisting in this pursuit was too much...

After crushing the dark fey forces holding the abandoned elven keep, the party left the swamp to explore the nearby forest on the border of their writ.

Coming upon the hornless corpse of a unicorn, a landmark they had been alerted to years ago, they are surprised to find it intact and well preserved, despite the nearby fetid bog. A foreboding sight, no natural creatures approach, and even Cringer finds the body revolting in an unnatural way.

After spending the night nearby, Queen Anastasia communes with Abadar and calls the spirit of the unicorn back to answer a few questions.

The rulers learn that the unicorn was slain by “Purest Corrupted Beauty” and that this killer was one and the same as the “Nyrissa” the satyr, Falchos, had warned them about. The satyr’s warning is strengthened when the dead unicorn echoes the sentiment that the party has no chance of defeating the green haired faerie queen. A vague mention of another world gives light to the chance that this Nyrissa resides on another plane, perhaps the plane of the Fey?

With little else to learn of value, the party cremates the unicorn corpse, and heads back to town. There they sell the bounty gathered from the abandoned keep, and, not wanting to leave an un-garrisoned stronghold on their border, send out a party to construct a watchtower out of it’s stone.

Their kingdom continues to grow, as do the tales of trolls to the south.The tales have come to the notice of the Swordlords of Restov, and new writ arrives offering a reward the for the head of the troll leader.

There is little need for further motivation, and the rulers set out to hunt down Hargulka. Doxentine, using his druidic magic, asks the animals of the land for any sign of where the trolls may have their stronghold.

June 18th session notes

The rulers search the southern-most lands near their capital, and, following the Shrike river discover an abandoned, run down ferry station. Crossingthe river with Abadar’s aid, they explore deeper, and Doxentine tracks down a giant.

The party approaches, prepared for battle, having hobbled their horses and on foot. The giant, seeing a threat, begins throwing boulders at Zorthalus. What ensues is at first almost comedic, as the Chelaxians begin to charge the creature over open ground, and the heavily armored Hellknight is quickly outpaced by his less encumbered allies.

Dox summons a cheetah who dashes up to the giant, before being dispatched with a couple swings of mighty club. Vissannica, her training in witchcraft granting her flight, closes quickly on the big humanoid, shadowed by a charging Cringer.
After demanding the giant’s surrender in several languages to no avail, she instead attempts to put him to sleep. He resists, which, perhaps, was not in his best interest.

The giant charges Vissannica, and smashes one of her mirror images with a mighty blow.

An evil grin lights up Vissannica’s face as she mutters incantations, summoning a swirl of cascading power and electricity into the Lion’s Claw. With two sharp strokes, one for each eye, the giant’s brain is cooked in his skull. He drops with a loud thud.

The rest of the party gathers around his body as they sort through is belongings. The Spymaster is able to decipher the giant’s scrawling handwriting, and a map to the troll’s stronghold is found.

With this in hand, the party returns to their duties in New Westcrown before heading out to exterminate the troll infestation.

Z looks over the designs sent by Maralictor Lonvod for the hundredth time. It seems almost surreal that after all of this time and so far from Citadel Krane that they would remember. He still has the taste of heart’s blood on his tongue. When he looks in the mirror he expects to see his teeth stained red. Will it ever fade? He hopes not and licks his teeth yet again. He understands now the talk of the Aspirants when they whisper about a TrueKnights’ thirst for blood. As usual, it is nothing like you imagine and yet so much more. It is not a thirst for blood, it is a taste of blood.

The lines of the armor are beautiful and terrible, much like the Hellknights who wear it. It is interesting that the scything blades so indicative of the Order seem to have been downplayed in this design. Perhaps Master Tros’ influence is seen here knowing Zorthalius spends much of his time quashing zealots in marshes and woodlands. The base intimidation the bladed armor offers when walking through the streets of Cheliax would quell even the highest of nobles’ thoughts of heresy. Here in the Stolen Lands the armor means almost nothing to a satir-loving country bumpkin. Well that will soon change.

Unfortunately, it could as easily be Palma Marau’s influence, subtly reminding Z that he has been too long from the Citadel and steeped in the mire of fey beliefs and hedgewitchery. He does not deserve the sweeping blades of a knight raised within the Citadel. A not so gentle reminder that when he returns to the fold, all will know he was weened in the embrace of the false zealotry and heathens.

Z once again returns the designs to the secure drawer in his desk and turns to pile of paper and parchment awaiting his attention. Soon… soon.

The Ruling Council (lately being referred to by the wealthier of the local merchants as the “Infernal Eleven”) agrees to expend funds on building out the Barracks in Axius into a full-fledged Garrison at the urging of the Warden, General, and Spy Mistress. Her Majesty, the High Priest and the Grand Diplomat made their recommendation for a green space in New Westcrown that can be both a place of reflection near the Temple and Library and as a ground for Marshal and Civil Ceremonies and Celebrations.

Reports continue to increase around the Troll Uprising and causing unrest across the realm. The population is beginning to question their loyalty to the new leadership. Despite Her Majesty's public announcement of a new Tower to defend the realm, the populace seemed unsatisfied that the threat of the trolls remains.

The party departs along the northern route utilizing the newly built roads with the objective of ridding the kingdom of the troll threat. Upon leaving the developed section of the Kingdom, they pass through an unexplored forest towards what they believe to be the troll’s hideout.

As our intrepid adventurers emerge from the forest they see a narrow path winding its way up a hill, a steep cliff face on one side and a sheer drop-off on the other. At the top, the path follows a wide ledge, where the corner of a weathered stone building juts from the side of the hill. The group approaches the door at the end of the path and calls upon divine, arcane, and natural aid before entering the tower.

Vissannica uses her hex ability to peak within the tower for a quick glimpse at some dark “sniffing” figures. In a show of solidarity, the dauntless party argues over the best way to enter the tower with suggestions like smoking them out and cooking bacon to attract them. While deep in this intellectual discussion, the door opens to the sound of a guttural argument and then laughter… The battle ensues.

Clarissa unloads a fireball on the first two trolls they see. The trolls attack Vissannica as she stands in the doorway with tooth and claw. The trolls are completely confused by Vissannica’s magic and violently destroy her 3 mirror images. Frustrated by the reception, Vissannica steps to the south of the door and readies her sword to destroy anything that sticks its stinking snout out of the door.

Following Vissannica’s lead, Z steps to the east and similarly prepares to attack anything coming out of the door. Anastasia strikes up a hearty battle hymn and inspires the party to action.

Clarissa delivers a second fireball into the tower and retreats to a safer distance, careful not to fall off of the cliff. The trolls, in a show of unexpected intelligence, do not charge out of the door and instead attack both Vissannica and Z by reaching through the door. Neither Vissannica nor Zorthalius can make a strike as the claws or jaws as they move too quickly snapping and raking out their attacks.

Obviously at the end of her patience, Vissannica steps into the doorway charges her weapon and dices one of the trolls into gibbering minced meat. Z steps in behind her and is able to apply a hearty strike to the second troll.

<…scene…>

As Rasdovia has grown, Lady Vissannica, in close counsel with her ancient blade, Livianus, has established her role as Minister of Inquisition (aka Spymaster). She has modeled Rasdovia’s secret police, quite predictably, after
Cheliax’s own iron masked Inquisitors.

She has given as few concessions to the local customs as possible in building her network of Inquisitors, but there are some changes she has made that are practical concessions to the lack of local resources. Instead of the iron masks of their Chelaxian counterparts, Rasdovian Inquisitors wear masks of bone, rumored to be carved from the skull of their first conviction.

The first inquisitors were “recruited” from among the citizenry, by Vissannica herself. With her sorcery granting her flight, invisibility, and heightened senses, combined with a careful review of Oleg’s ledgers, she was able to identify a number of smuggling rings seeking to avoid tariffs or various permitting requirements. Patiently, she investigated until she identified the ringleaders, as well as their most competent underlings. She approached these she judged worthy in private, one by one, dressed in the ornate bone mask and red robes of her office. The offer was simple, either be handed over to the Hellknight and his guard, or be granted immunity in return for converting to the Church of Azmodeus, informing on their allies and rivals, and becoming, in secret, an Inquisitor, beholden to Lady Vissannica, Minister of Inquisitors.

Thus the most competent criminals were recruited, given the black robes and bone masks of the office, and tasked with identifying and recruiting additional informants, encouraged by rewards of coin (taking bribes is strictly forbidden, but many offenses can be dealt with by paying a fine on the spot, with a significant portion serving as a performance bonus for the Inquisitor collecting the fine) and special privileges (Theater seats, reserved rooms in the best inns, special privileges at the dance halls, among others).

Here are some examples of fines(Source: Cheliax, Empire of Devils.pdf)
Offense
Public Lewdness
5 cp–10 gp
Breaking the Peace
1 sp–25 gp
Larceny (depending on severity) 5 sp–100 gp
Assault
10 sp–50 gp
Murder (depending on victim) 200–20,000 gp
Blasphemy 1,000–10,000 gp
*It is known that having a personal shrine to Azmodeus in your home can lead to leniency in matters that come to the attention of the Inquisitors (aka the pejorative “Boneys”), assuming the crime is not related to a priority issue (see below)

But just as there are rewards to being an Inquisitor, there is fear of retribution should one stray, and a constant sense of being watched closely, unsure who can be trusted. The Inquisitors, always carrying out their visible duties behind their masks of office, do not know who else shares their office, save those who they have helped to recruit, personally. Only Vissannica and Livianus know the identities of all the Inquisitors. So, your local butcher may be an Inquisitor, or your child’s teacher, or your wife.

Any attempts by an Inquisitor to return to their law breaking past are dealt with most harshly, often by Lady Vissannica, personally. Furthermore, upon joining the Inquisitors, one must sign a binding pact to follow the Azmodean Disciplines as well as edicts set forth by the Minister of Inquisition, or be damned to Hell for eternity. It is difficult to tell if this pact truly has the sorcery associated with it necessary to be legitimately binding, but who would wish to risk such a fate?

To be clear, the Inquisitors are not interested in common crimes, and leave much of such enforcement to the Hellknight and his guards. They might use such a mistake to increase their network of informants or to collect a fine, but it is not their mandate. They are only interested in threats to the nation. There are a few main targets to root out, here in order of priority: Foreign spies and agents, acts of sedition, consorting with fey, blasphemy, and organized crime on a scale that would impact the treasury or otherwise threaten the throne.

Z approaches the scene as his Subwarden spots him and stands at attention. Discipline continues to improve particularly after… well after. These days there is only before and after.

The scene has taken on a familiar feeling. Nothing is specifically the same as the others, but the results are just entirely too tidy to be an actual crime scene.

A newly acknowledged landed “Lady” is found dead in a very compromising position. This one is a former trapper, turned merchant, turned guild-leader. There is enough cream, honey, and mistletoe to start a fey midsummer festival. Rumors of her clinging to her old faith had been mostly well known, but this will leave no doubt. Had she lived, a trial would have been perfunctory at best.

Whatever creature was sharing her pleasures is beyond identification. No doubt any request for funds to bring in a necromancer to identify her coconspirator will be met with questions about funding and budgets and growing the kingdom. Not that Z would request it. He had already targeted this new “House” as a haven of heathen Fey Worship. The investigations into their holdings had just begun. This most timely death speeds along what could have been a lengthy (and costly) investigation.

Subwarden Remus has been explaining the details of the scene to him, and the implications, so the rest of The Infernals would hear the conclusions. Looking into his Subwarden’s eyes, Zorthalius sees the understanding and maybe fear? Another power is moving pieces around the board in New Westcrown. Even more interesting (or frightening) is that someone is removing pieces from the board.

The Infernals have taken to calling New Westcrown's Subwarden, Dark Marx. The popular reason is for his features, but the real reason is his approach to dealing with any lack of discipline. The Kingdom continues to grow so quickly. Maintaining order seems beyond achievement and yet officers like this one make it possible. It may be time to build another layer into command. Also, the local dialect keeps bastardizing the titles. How hard is it to say “Subwarden?” The pronunciation of “Subvervarden” seems an honorific from the commonfolk and yet sounds barbaric to the cultured ear.

Z nods to Dark Marx and accepts his report. He turns and marches with precision from the scene hearing whispers of “Boneys” spoken with equal parts awe and fear. Good, let them feel both. Subvervarden Remus will handle the rest.

July 16th session notes

The party faces the two remaining trolls at the entrance to the mountain structure. While Anastasia’s oratory diatribe inspires her allies to such feats of courage as to improve their performance in battle, it appears to have the opposite affect on one the trolls, who seems to find it is so boring he straight up passes out in the middle of battle. Stripped of his ally, the other troll falls to flame and steel. (j/k it was Vissannica’s hex)

The Chelaxians enter the troll stronghold and move quickly up a staircase where Vissannica spots a troll and a troll hound. With a whistle, the troll summons 3 more hounds who take up position on the staircase before the magus. Zorthalus steps up behind her and cleaves the two hounds in the front rank, leaving deep gashes that immediately begin to heal. That is, until Carissa follows up with a powerful fireball, slaying the two wounded hounds and knocking the other two out. The remaining troll, well singed, resists Vissannica's slumber hex and turns tail and runs like a child who misses his mother. Typically known for their fearlessness, this troll was, perhaps, smarter than average.
The rulers move on quickly after dispatching the unconscious hounds(who proved uncommonly adept at dodging glaive strikes once helpless), and the troll keeps running ahead of them. Vissannica, flying, gives pursuit, only to be surrounded by three trolls who rush past her guard. The lead troll takes a flaming sword wound for his trouble. Vissannica laughs at their ambush and calls back a warning about a two headed troll approaching from the south, planning to escape with sorcery.
Escape proves to be unnecessary, however, as prayers to Abadar, another cleaving strike from Zorthalus, a scorching ray from Carissa, and a devastating pounce from Cringer drop the troll that stood between Vissannica and her allies.
Vissannica, grudgingly impressed by her allies ferocity, steps deeper into the jaws of the ambush and strikes down another troll with two expert strikes of her rapier, charged with fire and electricity.
This leaves one more troll, who has been burned by Dox’s flaming sphere, plus the two headed troll. The two headed troll pushes past his ally and Vissannica to engage that party, and takes nasty flaming rapier wound, leaving him shaken. However, the troll does not seem too hurt by the critical hit that would outright kill many foes, and the fire does not burn him.
The battle continues!

The rider baring the Scythe and Shield of Axium’s Reapers trots back into the woods. Even this far from New Westcrown the demands of the Warden’s office find him. Before breaking Subvervarden Mog’s Son’s attempt at a proper ceil on the hasty message, Z makes a mental note to send scribes to properly train his commanders on handling official communications.

The message is disturbing, if brief…

Z Varden,

Son of Mog

Well, at least he did not think detecting magic and finding runes in the new Garrison was a good thing. Someone is attempting something magical within the newly upgraded barracks of the fledgling kingdom. It could be a rival territory, the fey, or any other potential advisory… potentially someone moving within the kingdom.

Z folds the missive and turns to the rest of the camp. His eyes fall on his compatriots seeing the golden tendrils swirling around each of them showing their allegiance to order and the law or smoky tendrils showing their addiction to chaos. He finds comfort in the deep adherence to the law his fellow leaders embody. Looking to Vissannica her ancientness in comparison to the rest makes her aura seem somehow deeper, accepting where her strange sword touches it. Something indescribable happens where they connect.

Z walks across the campsite and silently hands the parchment to the Spymistress. Without his newly acquired sight, Z would never have detected what he thinks was surprise in the elf women’s aura. Interesting.

July 23rd session notes

The party drops the two-headed troll, who is particularly wounded by the smite chaos of the Hellknight, as well as the remaining troll to the south. But not before the young cheetah summoned by the Druid dies in a hail of boulders. A rock hurling troll, and an armored troll wielding a morning star flood the passage. They are beset by the parties sorcery, and find themselves stumbling on grease, assailed by frost, and blinded by glitterdust. The leader flees like his minions did before him, and the rock throwing troll hurls rocks blindly. Another rock bearing troll comes up behind the first, and it is the party’s turn to press the battle onward.

Z has never felt such focus of purpose before. He Smites the great two-headed chaotic abomination. The golden pool of energy that has been silently thrumming inside of him since before is now flowing through him.

He sees the golden tendrils of order that make up his compatriots’ auras become so focused that his mind begins to throb. The dark tendrils of the trolls’ aura bring about a fixation to destroy like Zorthalius has never felt before.

This abomination should have never existed and must be removed from the world. Nothing can stop him, save death, from destroying this abhorrence of chaos. Licking his teeth and tasting his heart’s blood again he swings his glaive. He must give this beautiful weapon a name soon.