The mighty walls of Kenabres would be an imposing sight for most, but for each of you looking upon the precisely hewn stone, it represents a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world. It represents the end of the road after days of traveling – for some perhaps even months or years. It represents a place where you might finally belong; where good might prevail over evil, as it has in the past.
As you stop to take in the surroundings a weary soldier chuckles beside you and claps his hand on your shoulder. “Came to pledge yourself to the cause, eh?” he smiles wryly but doesn’t wait for an answer, calling over his shoulder as he limps by, “Lucky for you Armasse starts tomorrow.” You press on to the North Gate, through a crowded city of temporary encampments emblazoned with the symbols of factions and deities too numerous and far reaching for any one person to know them all.
The guards at the main gate are kind but firm: “Sunset soon approaches – your business inside the walls must wait until tomorrow.” Rejected, you return to the campsites and begin preparations to spend the night under the stars once more. Daylight quickly dwindles away and you hear the chopping of wood and a steady rise in merrymaking throughout the camp. More travelers continue to straggle in throughout the early evening, and communal bonfires are stoked as old friends and comrades-at-arms are reunited.
By a strange turn of fate, more important than any of your now realize, you all share the same fire this night.
---
Location: Kenabres Campsites
A Kelish woman, olive skin and short, unkempt black hair, enters the bedraggled campsite, following a large, bulky young man. Her attire consists of leather breeches, a simple cloth tunic over which she wears an old chain shirt, and a red cloak, it's hem embroidered with golden thread. A scimitar hangs from her waist, and she carries a battered buckler. From a silver chain around her neck hangs a silver symbol, depicting a winged female figure, arms outstretched and her raised head surrounded by a fiery halo.
Suryani sweeps her brown eyes over all the people huddled amid the tents, a few specks of gold glittering in her irisses.
The woman adjusts the straps of her backpack that were cutting painfully into her shoulder, addressing the man accompanying her. "You see Timeon, they just turned us away at the gates. Why do you want to risk your life in this desolate wasteland with these people? You've never even fought a demon before. I have to agree with our parents for once, you're being foolish!"
The tired elf eases out of his leather lamellar armor, inspecting the inner lacing for signs of rot. Seemingly satisfied, he adjusts his longsword in its sheath, and pulls up a nearby piece of wood to sit upon. Piling his backpack and armor behind the stump he sits.
"Evening, thanks for getting this fire going. Name's Caliban, yourselves?"
He pulls his shoulder length brown hair back into a rough tail behind his head, blinking his bright blue eyes expectantly.
The young man makes his way through the camp. His armor and his sword freshly polished. His holy symbol is displayed proudly. He looks for any worshippers of the General of Vengeance. As he walks towards a flag bearing the symbol of his Lord, he stops as he notices a Kelshite woman and an elf sitting around a fire. He looks at them and introduces himself,
Greetings elf and follower of the Healing Flame. My name is Caleb. Caleb D'Natin. May I share your fire?
"Fire's free young one... rather, Caleb. And I do not mind." Caliban shrugs, gesturing toward the others.
The young man, Timeon, furrows his brow at Suryani's chiding. "The role of clucking mother hen doesn't suit you, dear sister." He holds this pose a bit, then finally breaks out in a wide smile. "In truth, nothing could bring me low when my goal is so close at hand. We should join in the revelries!"
A older crusader looks up from the fire at this. His armor is well-kept but has lost is original luster through heavy use. This is an apt description of the man himself, his graying hair betraying the toll the war has taken on his life.
"The young taking over the burdens of the old: that's the only way we can continue to fight." He sighs and turns back to the fire. "Our spirit naturally burns out like these fires will come morning. But we can never stop feeding the flames, 'less we all be left in the dark."
Caliban looks about to add something, glances right and left, reconsiders it, and returns to contemplating the fire quietly.
Looking at the older man, the paladin replies with a great tone of respect, "It is the glory of doing what is right, to keep those who would suffer lest we fall, that is the tinder for the fire that you describe, yet, even though thousands upon thousands are set upon, by our foes that are legion, the ash of fire still remains, so that it is known that the fire lit the darkness and warmed a person.
Suryani glares at her brother for a moment, then forces a smile at the people gathered by the fire. "Greetings, I'm Suryani, and this stubborn mule here is my brother, Timeon. We're from Taldor," she adds, as she sits down by the fire and wraps her cloak around her.
She gives her brother a meaningful look, then addresses the old crusader, "Surely you must agree that not everyone is meant for a life such as this, and one needs more than a mediocre proficiency with a sword."
Looking up from darning a sock, "I'd think intent is where one learns proficiency with a sword..."
Realizing he's spoken aloud,
"Apologies, I don't mean to meddle." With a mild sense of embarrassment Caliban returns to trying to patch an over-patched sock.
Walking to the group by the fire is a tall woman of Taldan/Chelish/other descent in what looks like an Andoren outfit. She sits down with the others.
"I hope you'll pardon me if I join you. I'm Sioned, and I've been here a while. If there's anything you'd like to know about the city then feel free to ask. I'm not an inquisitor and you're outside the walls anyway..."
She pauses, then sighs. "That would be something they'd say, wouldn't it? Perhaps if I offer something incriminating of myself? Again, ask and I'll answer."
Looking at the elf, Tell me, do you come from Kyonin?
Looking surprised that anyone addressed him directly,
"Yes, although I haven't been there in a very long time. You, youn...err Caleb? From where do you hail?"
Considering for a moment, and glancing to the newcomer, "Greetings Sioned, can you tell us what you know of this Armasse the gate guardians spoke of?"
I am from Taldor, Caleb. The culture of the elves has always been fascinating. I hope that once we have closed the Worldwound, which I am confident that we will one day do, if Ragathiel so wishes, I think that the demonic scourge on Kyonin is the next to be exterminated. My parents and their parents before them were members of the various Crusades, as it were, I am a child of the Crusades.
Looking at Sioned, Greetings. For who did you query?
The old crusader responds to Caleb, "Ah, that's where you're mistaken, boy. Glory and good intentions don't keep the demons from breaching our walls - we pay the price for this safety with the lives of our brothers and sisters." He closes his eyes and brings a holy symbol from his lap to his forehead for a moment.
He then turns to Suryani and smiles, "I'm sure he's trainable. Better to die a young hero than and old coward with no friends left to bury you."
Timoen in the background bristles and says quietly, "I'm more than simply 'trainable' I'll have you know!"
Perhaps. However, the true victory that this scourge attains is the destruction of hope, of virtue. They corrupt youth and terrorize the old. There must be reckoning. Do you know if there are any other followers of Ragatheil, or a shrine where I might offer my prayers?
Looking at Sioned, "Greetings. For who did you query?"
"Anybody with a question. It...helps me socialize if I know what to talk about"
"Greetings Sioned, can you tell us what you know of this Armasse the gate guardians spoke of?"
"Certainly. Armasse was an Arodenite holiday that passed on to Iomedae. The intent is to train commoners how to fight and teach military history, though many outside her church see it as an excuse for revels."
"Not that such is wrong so long as it promotes good and does no harm." Sioned adds quickly.
There must be reckoning. Do you know if there are any other followers of Ragatheil, or a shrine where I might offer my prayers?
"Given Ragathiel's heritage and Hulrun's history, is it even safe to speak of such things here?"
The crusader waves his hand dismissively and frowns, "The Order of Heralds has put a stop to the worst of the old inquisitions, or maybe Hurlun's just getting soft living in the Prelate's manor." He looks at the group in front of him and shrugs, "Either way, I'm to old to care - doesn't mean you shouldn't. Old habits die hard around here."
At these words a couple drunken mercenaries stumble into communal area loosely holding some glass bottles. The taller one, with dark hair and a think stubble, swigs the last gulp and throws the empty bottle over his shoulder. It crashes on the ground to considerable hilarity between the two. Much to everyone's relief, they perch themselves on the opposite side of the fire - not that it makes them any less of a disturbance.
The crusader mumbles "Sell swords...." under his breath and stands to leave. He turns to Caleb and Timeon in turn and says few words in parting: "Good luck on your quests, young masters." and to everyone else: "Goodnight, I shall be turning in before the 'revelries' begin in earnest".
Ragathiel has proven himself to the Celestial Court, Sioned.
Caliban watches the interplay between the humans around the campfire, considers for a moment, and says,
"Easy Caleb, I don't think she meant any offense, to you or your Patron. Perhaps just advising some caution? But we are all here of similar goals - even those who sell their skill at arms for a price." Caliban looks around, as if looking to see armed inquisitors about to descend on the campfire...
"Ragathiel has proven himself to the Celestial Court, Sioned."
"And to me as well, I'm sorry if I caused offense. His story is inspirational, and one that sorely needs to be told around here."
Another night under the stars
A rough-looking man wanders in, revealing a bow and an axe among the equipment he is carrying, but keeping his face hidden under the hood of his outfit. A mutter sounds from below the hood as he sits down shortly after the sellswords arrive, addressed at Sioned.
Did you mention a story? I think these people need one before they squander their lives. The name's Kloss
Suryani listens intently to the conversation between Sioned and Caleb, then chimes in, "I'm sorry, but who are these Ragathiel and Hulrun, are they some kind of lesser deities? I've never heard of them before."
Nodding at the new arrival calling himself Kloss, she inquires, "So is everyone's goal here to join these crusades?"
It seems these crusader's fires have no lack of sustenance, with all these people so eagerly throwing away their lives, she thinks to herself.
Kloss, not feeling addressed himself by Suryani's questions, merely answers for what he observes.
It seems quite a few here are ready to join the crusades. What a sight. Seems some of them barely know how to hold a blade. Ready to fight evil? Hah, ready to crap their pants at the first hint of sulphur. All walks of life here, and some walk less straight than others, he says, pointing a finger at the drunk sell-swords.
Looking marginally satisfied with the threadbare sock,
"Welcome Kloss. Suryani, I'm a traveller, I suppose more of a student really. But times being what they are, looking for some employment with my blade isn't something I've ruled out. From what the Greybeard implied, Hulrun is some kind of Inquisitor-General?"
Kloss snorts at the name Hulrun, then more or less blurts out "Some bigshot in Kenabres. Zealous, witch-hunter. First time in this area, I presume?"
He seems taken aback slightly by his own impulsive outburst, almost embarrassed, but doesn't manage to stop talking. "Doesn't focus on his true enemies, he. Or at least he sees enemies everywhere, if you ask me. But enough said," as he finally controls himself, still stooped over and trying to hide his face.
Suryani, Ragathiel and Hulrun, are Emperayal Lords. They rank a little below the gods but still can still work their wonders in Golarion. I am surprised that your theological training did not include them.
...pointing a finger at the drunk sell-swords.
Perhaps losing interest in drinking alone, the two sell swords across the way get up and stumble over to the group passing a single (near empty) bottle between two. They seem in good spirits.
"Ho, friends and fiends. My name is Lawson Titus and this here is my brother-at-arms, Crabb Morningale, at your service." He does a low bow - so low in fact his hat falls right off his head and onto the ground. His partner, Crabb, slaps him on the back drunkenly. "Come, what spirits have you to share on this fine Armasse's Eve?"
---
http://wotr-notes.obsidianportal.com/wikis/kenabres
http://wotr-notes.obsidianportal.com/wikis/the-worldwound
"Sorry, religion is a bit of a touchy subject in Taldor at times, especially for some faiths," Suryani says softly, as she shifts slightly closer to the fire. Her eyes float towards the two sellswords and then to Kloss, but she doesn't say anything else.
What an odd thing, these humans, to be touchy about faith...
Looking up hopefully, "Lawson, Titus, my feet are tired and my back sore from shouldering a pack - mayhap you have wine to share? Or a tale for our fire?"
Caleb will close his eyes in deep mediation asking his Lord if these men mean them harm. In his thoughts he asks Ragathiel, General of Vengeance, do these drunkards mean us harm or have they simply taken in too much of the fruit of the vine? as he attempts to detect evil.
Kloss snorts at the name Hulrun, then more or less blurts out "Some bigshot in Kenabres. Zealous, witch-hunter. First time in this area, I presume?"
He seems taken aback slightly by his own impulsive outburst, almost embarrassed, but doesn't manage to stop talking. "Doesn't focus on his true enemies, he. Or at least he sees enemies everywhere, if you ask me. But enough said," as he finally controls himself, still stooped over and trying to hide his face.
Sioned nods. "Hulrun is particularly notorious for his racism, he'd either turn away Ragathiel's help or try to execute him."
Sioned waits for Lawson and Crabb to make the first move, trying to recall if they're in any way notable.
Crabb sits down, puts his arm around Caliban, and says: "Aye. that's the rub, stranger. Don't tell me you came all this way without squirreling away a bottle of Elvish wine in that there pack of yours. Now ain't the time to be stingy! Har har har!". His coarse laughter smells horrible as he tips the bottle in his hand upside down to reveal it's emptiness - the label says only "whiskey".
He throws the bottle to his friend, Lawson, who catches it with a drunken smile.
Titus and Crabb, I believe that if my elf friend is going to share it would expedite the process if you do not corral him. Please have a seat and tell us about yourselves?
Diplomacy
Crabb looks at Caleb with passing interest and releases the elf slowly, "You know, maybe this kid's right, Lawson. Why don't you have a seat, get to know these fine people?" Lawson shakes his head knowingly and says "What a fine idea, don't mind if I do.", plopping down beside Kloss and placing the bottle down.
He then turns to the ranger and smirks, "Don't be shy - lets us have a look at ya." and drunkenly paws at Kloss's hood, just managing to pull it off his head.
Kloss just stares dreamily at the fire, until Crabb starts pawing at his hood.
As soon as the first hand reaches out, voices in his head starts screaming in a cacophony of thoughts. His own thoughts strongest
I Should resist a scene here.,
then the other-worldy voices
intruder! let not touch!.
Kloss tries to regain control, and in a split second tries to start a breathing exercise
not with the inquisitors about,
which only comes out as an agitated snorting
claw his eyes out! break his arm!.
As the hand touches the hood, Kloss listens to his thoughts as the voices go quiet to see the result. Kloss throws back the hood, revealing a face obviously tainted by evil. A bearded face, slit-like eyes that glow with a yellowish light and two sets of ram's horns that protrude from his skull. With a grin that reveals short, triangular teeth, anyone bigoted enough would mistake him for a demon, though he wouldn't fool any scholars.
He positions his face in the fire of the light for maximum effects and says Boo! revealing a smirk Ready to fight evil, milk mouth? Will you be as brave tomorrow when the real demons come? Will you be as funny when you lie of the battlefield, holding your intestines as your choke on you own blood?.
Lawson falls off the bench in shock at the site of the Teifling and scoots backwards on the ground, but quickly as his courage left him it returns as he remembers where he is.
"You're on the wrong side of the river, imp." He stands and puts his hand on the hilt of his blade, narrowing his eyes, but keeps in the scabbard. "This is beginning to remind me of the last quality lynching we had here in the camps."
Crabb is sitting in stunned silence.
Kloss positions his face in the fire of the light for maximum effects and says "Boo!" revealing a smirk "Ready to fight evil, milk mouth?".
Sioned startles a bit at this, bit more at Kloss' display than appearance.
"You're on the wrong side of the river, imp." He stands and puts his hand on the hilt of his blade, narrowing his eyes, but keeps in the scabbard. "This is beginning to remind me of the last quality lynching we had here in the camps."
Sioned turns to Lawson. "We don't know for sure he's a demon, and I'm almost certain he's simply a tiefling -- they look fiendish and have some inborn magic but that's it. All we need is a paladin to determine whether he really is evil incarnate or was simply touched by it."
Suryani leans back slightly, taking in the events with stoic silence. I thought these people were all supposed to be some sort of heroes, I can't say I'm very impressed with what I've seen so far.
She glances over at Timeon, and recognizes the scowl he's got on his face. Oh great, he's got that same look on his face just before he pounded that one kid into a bruised mess when I was little.
Putting a hand on Timeon's sword arm, the Kellish woman shifts over to her brother and whispers, "Don't get involved Tim, come on, let's find another fire."
Pupils dilating as he sees Lawson reach for his blade, Kloss remains on the ground. Upon Sioned's interjection, he snarls at Lawson Seems you have a hard time understanding who your enemy is. Imps? Cheliax has imps. It's a far seedier breed on this side of Lake Encarthan. And when they find you he says with increasing fervour, reaching over, supporting himself with his hands, but not standing up, know there's fates worse than death.
This is all humanity has to offer. What am I fighting for but my own vengeance?
Caliban stands quickly, spreading his hands in the most non-threatening way possible. "Everyone relax, and, despite his appearance, no one's done anything wrong." glancing meaningfully at the two drunks.
Calistra be, what horror is this? Well, it hasn't started swinging, spitting fire, or anything else yet. Yet.
Lawson sways a bit as he listens to Kloss taught him again, and Caliban's reasoned appeal falls on deaf ears - the damage has already been done. He bellows in anger: "DEMON OR NOT, I'LL TEACH YOU SOME RESPECT, IMP!", closing the distance as he deftly removes his sword from it's scabbard.
(temporary) Kloss: 3 HP
Lawson slaps Kloss with the side of his blade - with full force - his eyes brimming with unrestrained malice.
Timeon pushes past his sister outstretched hand and charges into the fray - trying to restrain the enraged sell-sword. The sell-sword swings at him with the hilt of his sword, reacting in annoyance "Stay outta this kid - I ain't playin' around here!", but Timeon is able to dodge the half-hearted attempt and lock onto the sell-sword's free arm.
---
With the smack over the head sending his head ringing, Kloss makes a wild kick at the feet of Lawson.
My, this guy sure thinks he's something. Pity I can't spit any fire at him.
Caliban, sighing in frustration, grabs the drunk sellsword.
Crabb tries to bear hug Caliban, but much to the Elf's relief ends up only pawing at the air in front of him.
Lawson swings again but this time - now aware of the danger he is in - Kloss ducks the blade. The enraged sell-sword swears and kicks the Teifling in the chest, knocking him out cold onto the ground. He turns his face to Timeon, livid with anger: "This is your last warning, leggo a me, son."
---
Putting a hand on his sword hilt, Caliban calmly states, "I think you both better stop before we all wind up somewhere we don't want to be. Put up your sword and leave the boy alone."
All goes black, and only the ringing remains, You knew, you knew. You can't trust them., as the light goes out...
Looking at both groups, his own and the drunks, "I am Caleb D'Natin, paladin of Ragathiel. My honor and my service are to this Empereyal Lord and for my devotion I am rewarded with the ability to detect evil things, thoughts, persons and objects. I would be willing to use this gift so that none of us are heart in this usefless display of manhood. The true enemy is out there, not here.
Diplomacy Roll