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I do apologize for the timing of this, friends, but RL has my immediate concern and I need to address it. With that said, I will be stepping away from all of my games for the foreseeable future. It was a pleasure gaming with you all and I wish you all the best.
"I have...experienced...Sir Balin's arrogance. I will impersonate him. Timeon, to me. You are my squire." The sickly man's form would shift and change, turning into the imperious and stern appearance of Sir Balin. He cleared his throat a few times, practicing his words before looking to the captain. "Let me handle the conversation. You and your sailors maintain the ship." Araton orders, turning his attention back to the others. When the discussion on what to disguise the cargo as, his eyes grew misty like that of a blind man and when he spoke, his voice carried a nearly ethereal, musical quality. It was as if more than one voice spoke at once.
"Balentyne is a small, albeit prosperous, gate to the North. This is what would serve us best." Araton murmured, educating his companions as best and as quickly as he could. Once done with that, he steps up to where they would be boarded, a look of slight irritation upon his face.
I'll have a post up tonight <3
"Thank you Mercy." Araton takes the seal with reverence, putting it away carefully and enveloping it with soft cloth. "I had begun learning the tongue of the goblinoids, as primitive as it is." The scholar offers in response. They have their purposes and if Cardinal Thorne had use of the beast, so did Araton. It was the captain and their more important task. His concern mirrored Sarela's but there was also a look of pride; they were entrusted with setting the very first fire of war. The crusade's very first blow would be theirs to strike. It was a true honor. "To war." Araton said, lifting his chalice high to their cause. Tomorrow, it would begin in earnest. With the sacrifice completed, Araton turns his attention towards the others and listens in as Sarela explained her plot for dealing with the captain. Nodding in agreement, he finished his chalice of wine and place it onto the table with a comfortable, practiced ease. "I concur. Words are like a spider's web; shelter for the clever and a trap for the foolish. We shall see where this man settles. I do not know how to play an instrument though; I dedicated myself to more scholarly pursuits."
Approaching the Frosthamar, Araton wears a hooded cloak that settles over his armor. Fur-trimmed and dark, only the occasional glow of his eyes flicker from underneath like that of a dying flame or the reflection from a cat in the dead of night. He looks over the heavily-laden boat, taking it in before boarding the ship and turning his attention towards the grizzled captain. "We are here to guard your ship and ensure the delivery of its supplies, good captain. Your ship will be safe in our care." Araton offers with a coy smirk, stepping on board. The circlet had already created a disguise for him, casting him in heavy furs rather than the heavy metal armor that he wore. Araton offers no explanation nor asks any question; they were both men with a task to do and time to do it. The ship, hardy and flexible, was a good vessel for what they needed to accomplish. It would earn no complaint from him. The vessel begins its journey northward, moving towards where the hobgoblin expected them to be. The lack of any reasonable privy or cabins earned a scowl from the dark paladin but he did little to complain; this was just a test and what was a bit of misery but a flavor of freedom. He should be dead by now, executed and burned alive. This was child's play in respect. The man spends most of his time on his own, respecting the captain's wish to focus on his sailing and letting the more attractive and amiable Sarela attempt to earn his ear first. Mostly, he spends his time watching the others and getting a feeling for what the crew feels. They were all going to die when this journey was completed at long last but it was important to ensure that they were not suspicious of their fate yet. Better yet, it was important to ensure that they did not already intend their own betrayal.
I will have a post up tonight; schoolwork and a hectic week have limited my time by a great deal. I am excited to start making our way to the north!
"My family was influential at one time. Proud descendants of House Barca, Fal is a cadet branch of the main house. We split away early in the founding of Talingarde, focusing on the worship of Asmodeus." Araton narrated, swirling his glass of dark wine as he ruminated on his family's history. "Our known allegiance to the Dark Lord cost us much in terms of business opportunities and land grants, revocations by the mad king and his entourage. It only grew worse when the Asmodean Purges began. Now...I am all that remains." There was a bitterness in his words as he stared at the glass for a moment, sighing before a small yet cruel smile spread across his face. "Now though? Now is my opportunity. House Fal will rise again and, when we succeed, I will ensure the rise of each of you as well. Asmodeus rewards those who save themselves and who stay true to their purpose." He finished the glass and placed it down. Thorne's words were wise; tomorrow they began their task. The slave is coldly chosen, a sacrifice of blood to bind the knot together. The mark of the Prince of Lies is placed upon his head much like it had been placed upon his heart. Tomorrow began their real task. Rising from where he had knelt for a dark blessing, he regarded the others. "Rest well, comrades. Tomorrow, our crusade begins."
Apologies! Life has been happening. I will get a post up soonish <3
A new confidence brims through Araton as he seats back in his seat, slowly swishing his wine in his goblet with a look of smug satisfaction. They would be put to work but pleasures like this were only the beginning. They were declared as the Ninth Knot of the Nine Hells; the Nessian Knot and the home of their dark lord. Lifting his goblet to the air, Araton cheered with his fellows. "To Asmodeus, a new Talingarde, our Master, and ourselves!" Araton added, drinking deeply from his glass until another slave came to refill his glass. Elbowed by Mercy, he tilts his head to listen and goes to answer but is interrupted by their keen master before he has a chance to do so. "A cunning move, master. If one of us shall fall and fail, we can provide misdirection as to disturb the Mitrans from our true goals. Tomorrow, we begin our most righteous of crusades." "My family used to have such a cask. It is quite the rarity. Our master has quite the connections. One would expect such from our Cardinal." Araton says to Sarela, chewing on a piece of steak. Only three months ago, he was enjoying the dredges of Brandenscar. Now he was about to take the fight back against those holy hypocrits. "A taste of our reward should we remain loyal and steadfast. As long as we follow the contract, we shall persevere." Araton thought to himself, grinning and nodding to the whisper in his ear. Rozas, disgruntled as he was, was ready to see their next steps as well.
Araton finds himself deep within the library of Cardinal Thorne, looking through the various blasphemous texts that account unholy rituals, heretical secrets, and dark knowledge. He could spend years here, wandering the dim corridors surrounded by the dark bookshelves. Yet he can hear the whispers pushing through his being, calling him deeper into the shadows, his Uncle's voice teasing into his ear with promises of power. Soon the bookshelves begin to show the dust upon them, the books becoming leathery and worn, the journals of madmen and women blessed by the nine layers of Hell to spill their secrets. Traveling down one path, Araton stops and hears the chorus of voices rise in his ear. Like a spilling tidal wave, they all spill from one book. The cacophony becomes almost deafening until he grabs the spine of a tattered journal, retrieving it from the shelf as silence consumes him. His eyes look over the simple design but two things catch his eye. The first was the insignia of House Fal upon the corner. The second was the initials of "R.F." signed inside the cover. Rozas Fal. "Is this it, Uncle?" Araton asks softly, opening through it. Though imperfect, not nearly as precise as it was before, was the ritual he had been in the process of enacting before the Inquisition had seized him and destroyed his home. Rage and excitement ran through him as a dangerous smile spread across his face. There was no time like the present. Within the ritual room, nestled deep within Thorne's manor, Araton knelt within the many-pointed star dedicated to the Prince of Darkness. Slaves stood nearby, blank-faced as they slit the throat of farm animals taken from nearby farms. The blood spread across the floor, spilling into the lines of silver and sulfur, as Araton chanted in the dark tongue of Hell itself. Grabbing a beautifully crafted dagged, he lifted it to his chest and over his heart. "<To you, my lord, I give my mind. To you, my lord, I give my body.>" The infernal dripped off of his tongue as he pushed the dagger into his chest, just enough to spill red down upon the scattered papers. He carved Asmodeus's simply into his chest, his eyes flickering brightly with his true heritage. [b]"<To you, my lord, I give my soul. For the glory of Hell. For the glory of you. For the glory of me>" The words escaped him as he finished the symbol. A last act of faith, he rose the dagger and plunged it towards his heart. Pain surged through him as he pierced deep, a shallow cry escaping him. Warmth spilled down his hands and for a moment came a chill of the grave. Was he not worthy? Was he forsaken? Araton's eyes flickered upwards to see a man standing before him. It was not Asmodeus but a tiefling, red-skinned and with a wicked smile upon his face. His chest was carved with the very same symbol and Araton knew he was gazing upon his long-dead uncle. The chill became warm and then...it began to burn. It was like a fire had been born in his chest, piercing through his very being. His eyes stared at the room to see the devils and victims assembled, pleased grins and horrified expressions alike. His uncle burned before him like ash, falling apart bit by bit into that glowing wound. Since he had performed the first ritual, he knew his Uncle was somewhere within his mind guiding him. They were pushing him further along, always further along, this dark pathway. Yet now that vagueness gave way to certainty as the weight of his late uncle's consciousness poured into him. It sat upon his own, pushing downwards, crushing him. Crushing him. "A-a trap..." Araton whimpered for a moment as his fingers dug into the ground hard enough to crack his nails, staining his hands red with blood. "You...you want to take me?" He could feel the cage surrounding him slowly, his vision blurring as his ancestor infused into him. "It was always the plan, my dear nephew." Araton said smoothly, smirking slightly with a wicked smile. "I have so much still to do and you...you have had your fun. You may watch and I will lead us. Sleep now, I sha-" His hand snapped to his neck with an impossibly tight grip, choking the words. "I-I will be no prisoner. I will be no servant. I am Araton Fal, last son of House Fal, and...I...will...be...!" Araton screamed, fighting against the darkness. He seized that weight in his mind and lifted it, twisting it in his failing body, before finishing the cage. He could feel the screams of so many betrayed in his whole being, his body shuddering as he pulled the dagger out and threw it to the ground. No blood stained it but he could feel the burn of Lord Asmodeus's sigil upon his chest. His body felt exhausted, breathing hard as he leaned back on his knees. A low laugh escaped him, his grin spreading wide as he felt that pressure in his head. "Good try, uncle, good try. I was chosen. You may watch, you may guide, and I will take us to the summit of this path. Praise Asmodeus." Araton said, running his fingers along his pale chest and the dark markings that had sunk into his skin. The next day, his fellow Bound would recognize that the nobleman had changed. Faster, stronger, more vicious, the aura around him felt positively vile. Against the effects of those aligned with the higher planes, his body had grown resistant and durable. Araton could feel the will of his ancestors and the Dark Lord mix into a potent power. He was ready to be unleashed upon Talingarde.
I absolutely decided on Haunted One because the story caught me hard and gave me somewhere to go. Our benevolent and merciful has given us a pretty gonzo start for builds and working together and I feel that it'd be in poor taste to just make the most broken build possible. Intimidate builds are already pretty damn powerful and I don't need to make things ridiculous. With that in mind, I also don't want to be so under-optimized either. I feel that template is just enough of a boost to let him keep up in combat. I don't need to be the star of it, I just want to make sure I still contribute hard and feel proper as an anti-paladin. My brain is a bit fried from the first day of classes but I'll look over Timeon again and we can see what we can do with him. I know later on, he'll be more useful overall. For now, maybe as a guard/porter/seneschal for us. I don't expect him to be massively important.
No rush on this yet for you, my good DM, but I was wondering your thoughts on this and what I was asking about. Just let me know what you think when you have the chance <3
"You are too gracious, Felthune. Perhaps, when this is done, I will rise back to my blood's height. I will certainly remember your aid for this and will be your patron." Araton remarked, his voice cool and calm. A sinister quality seemed to infect him but the words were spoken in honesty. This assortment of villains was one of quality and power, tools for him to use in his rise back to the top. As would be proper, he would be their tool as well. A distant member of House Barca, royal blood pumped in him even with as tainted as it was.
Working with Araton shows that while the man lacks the stamina of the others, he makes it up by combining intellect, wisdom, and presence into a heady mixture. Quick on his feet and quite strong despite his sickly disposition, what is most noticeable is the fact that the man is certainly not alone. Shadows move with him, voices whispering into his ear, and he seems to stare off into space seeing something no one else sees. At times, he cocks his head as if listening to a voice that no one else can hear before spouting wisdom that even his well-read self would not know. Most of all, he acts the part of the humble nobleman. If one needs knowledge, he is there to help. A sparring partner? He is willing to practice. His education is stern but never too condescending, his barbs meant to illuminate weaknesses in thought or in form. The man seemed capable of strange miracles, guided by the unholy power they served but something else. If one looked at him in the peripheral, they may catch sight of it. An older, decrepit tiefling with horns amidst the gaunt shapes of others of House Fal, his kin and his and their victims. Araton would visit the terrified squire, seeing a chance to hone his craft on breaking the young man's spirit. A true faithful of Mitra was a test but with his master's death, a crack had been formed. So began his nearly daily task of bringing the young man the rich foods he savored in Cardinal Thorne's employ, a benefit of serving hell when mere days and then weeks ago, he was preparing for death. "Hello Timeon..." Each day would start with Araton's wicked smile before he closed the door to show Timeon the pleasures and horrors of Hell.
Conversion!:
Absolutely. Araton is all for corrupting and bringing others into the fold of Lord Asmodeus. He brings order, discipline, and a proper place for every tool to belong.
Ah, yes, you are the more ranged fighter of the group. That is fair then; I don't think it makes story-sense to pick up a feat that you won't really want to use unless you're absolutely okay with it. I could go with Bonded Mind then instead, though I'd like to figure out the thematics of how we became capable of it.
Having looked at the choices there, I am all for Outflank. We have some crit fishing to activate its special function. The Improved version makes sneak attacks and precise damage super easy to do as well. I am all for Outflank, myself.
"Felthune, I thought I recognized you." Araton said with a small smirk, his eyes taking in the young man. There was something wrong though, the confidence that was there was now missing. He remembered the charisma that Felthun spoke with, the bravado showcasing his talent for the Infernal texts and the dialects between the different levels of Hell itself. He had been pivotal in helping unlock the secrets of his family's tome, bringing Araton into contact with his "uncle". That man was gone and the haze around him was reminiscent of an illusion. "Much has changed since we last met. It is...good to see you surviving. I had worried that the Inquisitors had gotten their talons into you. I am simply Araton now, my lands were seized after my...heresy...was discovered." The man that Felthun had met before was sicklier and frailer; the one before him brimmed with new power. Strapped in full plate, a sword on his hip, there was a palpable aura of menace that exuded away from him. His smile was polite but nonetheless, there was a predatory quality to it that could not be missed. His attention turned back towards the other woman, the one bulking with muscle and standing with a less ostentatious presentation. Her weapon and relatively simply decor was analyzed carefully for a moment, information stored away in his mind. He had seen what the unassuming were capable of when it came to combat and he had no doubt that if she had Thorne's favor, she must be useful. The last figure appeared absolutely perfect. Every part of them was made to look exquisite, placed exactly where it belonged. Even with Sarela, the woman had her momentary lapses of human failing but upon this subject was perfect. Unnaturally so. Araton nodded his head towards the strange figure. His actions even more so as he tilted his head.
His head twists quickly to the side, quirking to the side as if something spoke into his ear. His eyes widened for a moment, nodding his head gently before pursing his lips. "Interesting..." Araton murmurs to himself, stepping forward to look over the contract offered. With a slightly sharpened nail, he cuts his thumb and drips enough blood to wet the pen before writing his name upon the infernal contract. With it sealed in blood, he turns to the others. "For you, my comrades." He offers it to each of them in turn, eager for their true training to begin.
Araton focuses, in his training, on his reaction speed. To hesitate against their enemies would invite ruin and death. Striking faster and harder would make him fierce, deadly, and more useful to those within his compact. The armor sat upon him more naturally, his ferocity and strength growing. His Uncle's whispers were becoming clearer as the darkness in his blood began to manifest itself. Soon enough, their time would come.
Araton bows his head to his companions, silently thanking them for their service. They had helped him escape from the bonds of Brandenscar and succeed over the trials underneath the manor. They would be remembered in his path to glory in Asmodeus's name. The door closed behind them and he would turn his attention towards Cardinal Thorne before slipping the amulet of Mitra into his belt pounch. "Thank you, Cardinal Thorne, for your hospitality and the opportunity to prove ourselves to you. I-We look forward to the next steps." He would turn with Tiadora and begin to follow her out of the room. His eyes, sunken into his face with a sickly pallor, would regard Sarela for a moment before a small grin spread across his face. A worthy comrade, he would see what these others had to bring to the table. Disappearing into his room, he would let the slaves wash away the sweat and grime of combat before polishing his armor and making sure he was presentable for the last, true, high priest of the Lord of Hell. Entering into the office, his eyes would take in the three others that were there with a calculated, cold stare. His hair was short and white upon his head, his eyes almost brown unless one caught them in the right light to see the orange that filled the spaces between. A tiefling through many lines of blood, he appeared more of a normal half-elf than one blessed by fiends. His physique was lean and strong, albeit it not very healthy. His skin was pale and there was a sick look to him, his eyes sunken into his face. He stood proudly though in a suit of full-plate, cleaned and taken from the slain paladin down below. For those sensitive to such things though, there was something about him. Not in his appearance, as handsome as he was despite his constitution, but something actually about him. Like a shadow that only would appear in the peripheral of one's sight. The man was not alone. Listening to Cardinal Thorne's speech, the fire in his eyes bloomed and his smile, menacing and dangerous, grew as he took a step forward and placed a closed fist over his heart. "I will serve the Dark Lord's will and shall shatter this land in his name. I will be your dark blade, Cardinal Thorne." Araton swore. A chance for vengeance, a chance for power, it was what the tyrant craved. He would rise in power and carve out his own destiny from the corpses of Mitra's faithful.
Welcome everyone! Glad to have you with us! It is okay that not everyone worships Asmodeus, as long as you serve admirably. Using the Lord of Hell as a business associate is entirely acceptable <3
Hey there folks! Everyone's favorite, sickly anti-paladin here! We're looking over character sheets and stuff so if you have the time to update them, please do. Some of the sheets are missing backgrounds, having adjusted to the build rules, or both. Personally, I'm less interested in the mechanics because our benevolent, kind, merciful, and definitely-won't-smite-us DM has given us a big, badass build rules to create some truly potent villains. Even ineffective builds can be effective here with how many feats are being added to the mix along with our template abilities and the potency of gestalt. With that in mind, I am (personally) looking to what the characters can add to the story. What rivals does the character have and drives them forward? What makes them likeable as a villain? Why would they serve Asmodeus and why would an organization dedicated to him the overturn of a Mitran government select them? I ain't asking you to figure that out here in the recruitment but look more into what you want to accomplish, how it meshes with everyone, and what the story will be. That's what I'm going to mostly be looking for. Please also try to avoid completely shenanigan builds; our DM already has enough on their plate :P Looking forward to seeing updates and reading more! Once your character sheet is finished, background is there, and it is updated, let us know here so we can give it a proper peek before the deadline. Thank you! <3
With Sarela's task done, Araton slowly enters in and stands beside the young, terrified man. He places his hand upon him and for a moment, Timeon can see them. The shadows in the corner of his eyes, victims and ancestors alike, watching the dark paladin make his mark upon him. "Young Timeon...you must be wondering why you'd been forsaken. If Mitra was so powerful, so generous, why would they let you suffer like this? It seems...almost cruel." Araton says, sighing wistfully before offering a sad smile to the young man. "Alas, it is because despite my master being the Prince of Lies, Mitra is the master of them. The world they ask you to believe in...does not exist. Cruelty exists. Injustice exists. All because they lack the will to instill order." The antipaladin leans over the man, his sickly eyes staring down into the young squire with a conviction that was so confident as to border madness. "Only Asmodeus can save us from this madness. His justice is true and unforgiving. He would not let you suffer here because He would've made you strong enough to never been caught. He would've made you stronger to not have betrayed your master." Araton's smile became a little crueler as he shrugged. "It isn't your fault...they made you weak. You could be more...if you could embrace it." Patting his shoulder, he would turn towards the door. "I will inform my master that you still live. What he does next...I do not know. Perhaps you'll be given a choice. Perhaps you'll have a chance to ask Mitra why they deceived you so..."
Sorry for the quietness! Have had a lot of life suddenly happening. I'll get stuff here and look through the submissions momentarily <3
I'll post it in the chat in a little bit. I was doing some looking at the numbers for folks and I was curious, oh good DM, if I could potentially add another template onto my own? I love the flavor of the Haunted One and wouldn't want to lose it but I also do realize that its fluff is quite a bit behind what other folks are grabbing. I would like to combine it, if possible, with this template here. It could've been what Araton and the ghost of his great-great Uncle may have been searching for and trying to perfect before he was captured and sent to Brandenscar. What do you think? I just want to be able to keep up, stats-wise, with the front-liners to some degree since they're going to be hitting super heavy.
Hello there folks! Araton here, your local antipaladin! So far for builds and such, Araton is a supportive front-liner and uses Oracle stuff for buffing and the Ancestors purview for extra support. He fights well enough up front in combat and I am looking to go down the Intimidation-line of debuffing in combat. I've helped the other player building the half-dragon to get their character set up; they're fighting with a scimitar in hand and secondary natural attacks. Lots of flanking and all that goodness as well. She'll hit hard and hit often while scouting and disabling traps as well. I haven't really sat through Sarela's but I know it is an interesting combination.
Hey DM! We are thinking of going with Humanoid for the first favored enemy and I was curious if you'd be willing to let us take two humanoids for the first one since there is a wide breadth of what counts as humanoids. Let us know at your earliest convenience.
They'll be a little more available later today so they can roll for their stats. There was also a third-party archetype we were wondering if we could use for the unchained rogue. They're going for a strength-focused build so this archetype synergizes with it far more. Does that sound okay?
We definitely aren't inventing a villain (hero) who killed mother and now wears her skin as armor. Not at all.
I think we were going with Green; the child of the last green dragon before they were slain by Talingarde's heroes.
Would it be okay for me to invite my friend to the discussion board so they can roll their stats out? We've talked and I believe they're going half-dragon human ranger (skirmisher)/rogue (scout). Just let me know and I'll invite them in!
Big groups aren't always an issue, though I know that means adapting more stuff for our good DM to do. So I am fine with opening for recruitment for more or not. Since we were the misfits, I'm going to tell my friend to check out the templates that are already up on there and see if there is any they would pick up to try and create less work.
Well, I do have someone that is willing to join. She is super active in my other groups. I don't think it'd be bad to pull everyone together; we've got all the players we need and I'm a good friend of Javell. I am also all leveled up. Got the APB bonuses applied, leveling up, armor, all that noise.
I've really been enjoying Araton and look forward to how he grows in the campaign itself. I'm interested to see how everything goes when we're merged with the other group. Will we be adapting to their story or them to us? I'm going to peruse their character sheets in a bit and see if an Ancestor Oracle still works well enough or if we have enough support that I could do something else potentially.
Araton grins as he watches the proud knight be taken low, crushed by overwhelming odds and defeated in Asmodeus's name. Dying and unconscious, the paladin has his armor taken off and disposed of. Araton eyes the masterfully made full plate and the heavy shield, noticing that it would need to be redecorated and the fittings changed but it would be a sizeable improvement to what he was already wearing. "I can heal the young man's wounds. What...is it that you're doing exactly?" Araton asks, curious of it as he lifts the potion as well. He offers it first to Sarela and, if she does not want it, secures it to his belt. He takes the beautiful amulet of Mitra that hangs on the corpse of the paladin.
"Dear paladin, it is not Mitra who brought me here. You...you are a test to prove my worth to the Lord of Hell." Araton growls out, deflecting the blow off of his shield. He pivots with his longsword in hand, exchanging blows once more. "You are simply an enjoyable stone for me to step upon my story of conquest. A footnote, at best!" With his shield in hand, Araton deflects another strike to the side and swings hard and fast at an opening to wound the man before him.
I forgot to respond to this but I'm totally okay with it. I'm playing with Javell (Morthus) in a few other games and we're decent friends from it, he roleplays well. I look forward to bringing us survivors together :D EDIT: I also have an amazing roleplayer that is sitting in the wings if we ever have the space for it. She's exquisite. Just let me know <3
As necrotic energies infested into the man, the magic would dissolve around him. Like melting flesh, the friendly soldier dripped away to reveal the hateful eyes of Araton underneath. He pulled his hand away as his comrades came closer with weapons drawn and violence in their eyes. "A trick that a fool would fall for! Do you remember me Sir Balin? I remember the joy on your face as you destroyed my home. Your squire is here and trust me, his suffering has only begun. We'll break his will once we give him your head!" Araton spat out, his hate like venom on his tongue. This man's death would not be enough to right the wrongs done to him but they would be a start nonetheless.
"Sir Balin! You survived!" The false soldier said with relief in his voice while Araton quietly seethed. He knew that man's face anywhere; he was the one who cast judgement on him while his family's history, land, and riches burned away. What a sinfully delicious prize to have be brought before him. He maintained the facade though, letting the man believe that he had been rescued. "We were on the pursuit of fugitives from Brandenscar! It seems that the master of this place is not only responsible for your kidnapping and that of your squire but also orchestrated a prison break." Araton perfected the sound of astonishment in his voice as he climbed down into the sharp arena. He gestured for those who specialized in close combat to join him, the others staying back and out of harm. "Let us get you out of her sir. There are a few more rooms that we have not gone through yet and the threats here have been numerous. Let me help you through." His plan was to catch the man off-guard, to try and use the corruptive touch his dark lessons had granted him to inflict this righteous man with a touch of the suffering he had suffered.
If the man falls for the ruse, Araton waits till he gets close. Stepping behind him, he cannot stop the wicked grin from spreading across his face as he reaches out towards him with a purple balefire covering his hand. When he places it upon his skin, necrotic energies would burn and seethe through his flesh while it twisted his inside to make him sick.
Araton nods, straightening himself up and giving a devious smile. "I will try to lay my hands upon him. When I do, that is the time to strike." His unholy gifts have given him great power, enough power to perhaps wear the warrior down and make him an easier target. Once they were all prepared, he would lead the way into the room with a look of concern. "Ser Balin? Are you here?" He said in a light tone, twisting his voice to not sound as himself.
"A cunning plan for certain. Tawg, don't speak. He will notice your...patterns of speaking." Araton said, focusing for a moment before a glimmer would run over his body. He would transform his clothing and his face into one of the soldiers that had raided his home, dragged him outside like a common criminal, and burned down all that remained of his legacy. Their faces were forever etched into his mind, faces of vengeance. He would wait for the others to do the same before giving a nod and opening the last door, using the key to unlock it.
Araton moves around the empty coffins now, moving to put his back against the wall and flank the remaining undead with Tawg. Using the vicious goblin's martial skill to find openings, the dark paladin would strike viciously at it.
Araton barely dodges the strike from the captain, weaving out of the way before counterattacking with his blade. He aims to try and chop the undead apart before moving on to assist his comrades.
Araton ducks underneath the attack, dodging the blow of that greataxe as he prepares himself for combat. With his sword in hand, he readies to strike back hard and viciously. He dodges around another downward strike of the greataxe, bringing his sword across the undead's chest.
"It is true. The undead walk amidst us in many forms." Araton whispers, trying to move quietly with the rest of his companions. The lantern moves overhead in response to his words, the haunted antipaladin giving it a wicked glare for just a moment. He moves towards the other door, aiming to avoid fighting the hidden monstrosities.
"Now that, that I can do." Araton says, taking a breath. "I will try my best to be quiet and lead the way. Follow if you can." With that, Araton would begin to make his way through the room, skirting around the edges to try and avoid the large mushroom with the uncomfortable name of "shrieker".
"My...mentors...have taught me how to be silent. Alas, the armor I wear does not make it easy for me to be quiet though." Araton thinks for a moment, placing his shield on his back and securing it firmly. "I do not have any magics that may help me either. I will move as quietly as I can though."
Araton moves quietly behind Sarela, looking over her shoulder to see the large mushroom that dominates the center of it. He studies it for a moment, analyzing it.
"Well then, let us carry on, shall we?" Araton says, wiping his blade off on the goblin's corpse before moving to the wall to examine it.
Without any voice to interrupt him otherwise, Araton puts his foot down hard on the chain of the goblin to force him down towards the ground. Spinning the longsword around in his hand, the vicious smile grows across his face. "You served your purpose well, goblin. We thank you." And with that final measure, he brings the blade down upon him.
"He did. Do not take that jewel to the cardinal. It would go...poorly." Araton says, standing up and brandishing his blade. "The boy in the torture chamber could be useful. This goblin...doubtful. Should we cull it?" Araton asks with a mirthless smile, looking down at the little creature.
"A boulder trap then. Perhaps...the listen is believing him. He believes that the necklace and jewel are authentic but we know that Timeon's mentor lays somewhere in here. Let us move up the stairs, see what awaits, and then decide from there." Araton says, looking between his cohorts. His attention is stolen for a moment as he narrows his brow, his head tilting for a moment. "Is that so? You think so, uncle? Very well." The man clears off a space in the room, looking to the others again. "Give me a moment. I will commune with the others for guidance." As he sits there, the tiefling's movements grow less and less. Eventually, he becomes as still as the dead. The torches flutter with an unfelt wind, a chill growing in the room. Voices play on the edge of one's hearing and if you look away from the antipaladin, it was as if the shadows formed shadowy figures whispering into his ear.
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