after closing the Worldwound and killing Baphomet and Deskari.
Huh! We killed neither of them… Congratulations!
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In Herald of the Ivory Labyrinth, Baphomet transformed Iomedae's herald into his own. His CR is 20 and he also has 8 MR. Does that mean, while he is the herald of a god, he cannot be conjured with Greater Planar Ally spell? While this is a great example of a demigod gaining a herald, it is achieved by re-educating a pre-existing herald of a major deity. That sounds like it might be a loophole around the rule, rather than a disproof of the rule. Wasn't the Hand of the Inheritor Ragathiel's herald before Iomedae ascended? According to the Pathfinder Wiki, he was merely «a servant» of Ragathiel's. https://pathfinderwiki.com/wiki/Hand_of_the_Inheritor In any case, I'm fine with not getting the title of Herald. My legend will speak for itself. And since I'm apparently only about two CR steps away from Ragathiel himself, maybe I should aspire to become his peer rather than his herald. >:)
Thanks James! Since WotR was 1e, I guess I should be bound by the «core deities only» design choice. Then again, I’m effectively immortal now and might plausibly survive into 2e times. What’s that about demigod heralds in WotR? Does Baphomet’s daughter count? In any case, it seems the title of herald is more of a technicality — perhaps it’s better if I can’t be summoned with Greater Planar Ally. Then again, in WotR certain deity finds herself restricted by her lack of access to her herald, so I guess there’s more to it after all?
I just graduated from Wrath of the Righteous as a 18th-level/10th-tier Inquisitor of Ragathiel and have been wondering whether becoming a herald of Ragathiel would be a possible long-term outcome for me. I'm certainly significantly more powerful than the typical 15th-level heralds normal deities seem to have... but can demigods have heralds, or is that restricted to capital-G Gods? Cheers, Lady Jādhanakṛti Vārima, Sixth Wing of Ragathiel, Avenger of the Worldwound, Wielder of Symmetry
Hey Ragathiel, remember when you appeared to be while I was dead and then later I figured I had probably imagined it all? Statistically speaking, down here in the Material Plane, almost any explanation tends to be more plausible than you met your God. But here I am, back from not only a private audience with Nocticula, but also Baphomet showing up in the flesh to murder me with his own hands. Thane and I even got to land a blow on him. I cut a god! Just a little bit, of course, and he would have sliced us all in half a moment later if Nocticula hadn't stepped in and showed him who's boss in Porpy-Porpy Land. But still. Here we are, back from our suicide mission to the Abyss. Strange times indeed. By the way, whatever boon you bequeathed on my new and indisputably improved body, it's been working wonders. Of the three major fights we had in the Abyss, I spent only one on the ground bleeding, another one stumbling about blindly, and a third one actually fighting. Gods mighty, what a change! And to be fair, the punishment it took to take me down in that first fight would have been enough to mince an oliphaunt. I feel like I'm finally fit to face the challenges you send my way, but now that our opposition has escalated to the level of god-spawn and gods themselves, it's only a matter of time until I'm shown back in my place. I'd better enjoy the feeling while I can. Oh, and can you believe Tanaquil and Arueshalae are finally boinking? I mean, they've been weird around each other since day one, but I figured Arueshalae was too afraid to let anyone touch her, lest her past as a succubus catch up with her and consume Tanaquil in a torrent of sin and doom, or something. As for Tanaquil? I wouldn't have put it past her to remain stuck in that maelstrom of self-doubt, ethical conundrums and all-around overthinking that nerdy types like her tend to wallow in until their object of adoration gets tired of the thinly-veiled fawning. But it turns out they were just both shy about it. I think I just saw Tanaquil blushing at her journal, if you can believe it... well, nothing that a few more weeks of boinking can't cure, I'm sure.
I finally found a great name for my Sword of the Planes. At first I was trying to come up with puns on «planes», but the choices were atrocious throughout. Plane Vanilla? Plane and Simple? Snakes on a Plane? Ugh. No, I have named it Symmetry — proper amount of gravitas, fits well alongside Radiance, resonates with the Planes by its geometric connotations, and implies law and order, and thus anathema to demonkind. It sounds nice, too. Perfect. It's time for the axis of Symmetry to bisect some demons.
Some Of Us Heard Yanniel And Some Of Us Heard Lauriel
Hey Ragathiel— so... was that you? I suppose I should put too much trust in my recollections, given how disoriented I was when I returned from death. You seemed surprisingly informal and approachable for a god, and even for a general... no vast throne room, no chorus of archons singing your praises, just you and me against a featureless white backdrop. I wonder whether my mind just made it up, or whether you kindly reduced the complexity so I could make sense of it. Either way, thanks for the kind words. There's a lot more work to do, and I'm here for it. Death by disintegration is more painful than one might think, given how quick it is. Maybe it rends mind, body and soul alike? But then, I feel healthier and more focused now than before, like an oak on a hilltop. Maybe it's because of my shiny new body. I hear only a handful of dust remained of my old one. (What is that dust, by the way? The slag? That would explain it.) Or maybe you pulled some strings when you sent me back, ironed out a few cracks and fault lines. I won't tell anyone if you don't.
Sorry about that; I am somewhat short on breath on account of all the running and shouting and hurtling toward towers at break-neck speeds. Drezen is about to fall to an overwhelming force of demons, rendering our entire expedition moot, and also dead. I suppose we could have seen it coming, had we had our wits together. I did, in fact, see it coming to some degree, but didn't have the self-respect to convince myself of the urgency of my suspicions, let alone the others. Gods, why is it that you so rarely bequeath wisdom and confidence unto the same people? Something to consider when you guys inevitably scrap this burning shipwreck of a world and start over. While you're at it, you might also want to rethink your minimal-intervention philosophy. We really could have used a few more pointers. Perhaps you cannot really conceive of how limited our point of view is, dirtside in the wounded lands, while you float somewhere remote in blissful omnisapience. In any case, while we were off gallivanting across the land for days so Tanaquil could collect her sexy dream succubus who wasn't even in a hurry to be saved, the Tiefling mage from the citadel's basement had all the time in the world to reattempt her apocalyptic ritual with a fresh batch of vrocks. (One of which, by the way, is of mythic proportions and glowing — no doubt another of those freakishly overgrown monstrosities like the chimera and the wyrm that this land likes to spwan.) All of that would be bad enough if our meagre ranks weren't consuming themselves in madness and corruption. I found Jesker, the wreck of an Erastil cleric we rescued from the lava cave a while ago, babbling in self-deprecating desperation while preparing to hurtle himself off the temple walls. It took both me and Thane our utmost to first talk and then shout him out of it. While Thane went off to rally the troops, I meant to traverse the temple to reach Jesker but was stopped by the sight of Sosiel cradling the corpse of Aron in a puddle of blood, throat freshly cut. Clearly the two of them hadn't suffered enough in the past weeks. I tried to talk to Sosiel, but he was mad with grief and attacked me with his sacred glaive before slumping back down next to his lover's corpse, clearly beyond any capability of lending our forces his much-needed clerical aid and succour. When I reached Jesker, I found him drenched in fresh blood, which seemed to implicate him as the murderer (along with his crazed wailing about his horrible deeds), but since neither he nor Sosiel were willing to stoop to speaking a word to me about what had happened, I wasn't going to leap to assumptions. What if he had merely ineffectually tried to save Aron? I wasn't going to be the inquisitor who beheaded bystanders at a mere suspicion, tempted though I was. Instead, I threw him over my shoulder like a bag of turnips and carried him all the way to Irabeth. Even if he is guilty of the murder — be it by demonic possession or by ridiculously bad judgment — we might still get a few spells out of him, and that's better than having no cleric at all. I would much rather have saved Sosiel, but I had done what I could on that front. I'm afraid he will die alone in the temple when the demons breach the walls. Maybe we'll be lucky for once, and the demons will head straight for the citadel. However exactly that murder ploy played out, it took out both of our two clerics and one of our two experienced scouts. No doubt this was the work of the infiltrator from the Baphomet temple (whether or not that person was Jesker). Well played. I would have loved the opportunity to root them out ahead of time. I was kind of looking forward to actually doing my job as an inquisitor for once, and perhaps even garner some positive public recognition for the profession, but no... we were gallivanting across the hinterlands in search of a sexy demoness while the infiltrator wrought their evil, and now it's too late. And now I find myself guarding some pointless gate against ground troops while, far above us, the Sword of Valor is under attack and exposed to the vrocks and dragonriders. If it falls, any demon in the region and their demonic dog can teleport in, and the battle will be over. It's certainly what I would do in the invaders' shoes, and I did voice that concern to Irabeth and the others... but not convincingly enough, it would seem. Maybe I should have a meltdown of guilt and self-pity too; it's certainly all the rage among the divine servants around here. But truth be told, I'd rather go out barreling up toward the tower like a vrocking cannonball, sword in hand, crimson cape billowing. Let's see if I can't distract them from the tapestry for long enough to make a difference.
I should have listened to Jadni more.
Hey Ragathiel Gods and devils, and here I thought Heroism felt good. Now that I've had a taste of channeling Resurrection, everything else feels stale and pedestrian. You know I've never been the type to burn with faith or zeal, but the sheer magnitude of power you exerted through my hands, the way Nature herself relinquishes Death — her most final and fundamental principle — to your Divine Will... that sort of thing will turn an apricot stone into an ardent believer. I bet people would use Resurrection recreationally if it weren't so expensive. Mmm, apricots. I still miss Oppara. I should remind Horgus about my request for procuring tea, at least. How hard can it be? The stuff is light as a feather and keeps for years. Arueshalae seems nice. I had sort of dreaded the confrontation and the responsibility of judging her nature and intentions, but when it came to it, I was just like, yeah, she's alright. Sure, demons are known to play harmless to deceive their marks, and succubi doubly so, but somehow there's something about her insecurity and anxiety that feels... meek? ...in such a human way that I can't imagine a demon pulling it off convincingly. A demon in the traditional sense, that is. I suspect a lot of textbooks are going to have to be rewritten after we properly get to know her. She seems less ready to trust the lot of us just now — me in particular, of course, because something something Inquisitor. If we ever get back to our normal lives, we should perhaps hire some bards to work on our public image.
Early suggestions ranged from imprisonment to banishment to forced re-education. All of these sat ill with me, considering we were discussing people who had committed no known crimes. I detect as evil, after all, for the grave sin of casting spells of healing and protection upon myself.
Hey Ragathiel— I never subscribed to the notion that you should never meet your heroes. If your heroes don't hold up to scrutiny, you're just bad at picking heroes, as far as I'm concerned. It certainly helps to have picked a god! On the contrary: If I were ever to meet you, I would be the one to make a fool of themselves, no question. I mean, I just recently met my first queen face to face and managed to interrupt her. Don't get me wrong, I would still want to meet you. I've always had a weakness for stories where devout protagonists face their gods and melt into a quivering puddle from sheer awe and honor. And then of course the god is all, rise, my faithful knight, it is you who bring me honor, let's sing an aria together, that sort of thing. I didn't think I'd be the type for it, but man, I miss Taldor... I miss having nothing more pressing to do than listening to an opera and going out for late-night angel bobs afterwards. For all the faux pas I'd be doing, at least I think you'd be pretty happy with my new look. The Armor of the Pious attuned to me, and it's a beaut'. All bronze and blacks, sheer mithral flashing through here and there; embossed patterns and liturgies everywhere. I look like a walking castle. Best of all, the armor grew a blood-red cape with feathered edges, as if I'd found your sixth wing and decided to wear it! No offense to your actual sixth wing, may it rest in peace. Now, heroes aside, I absolutely think you should never meet your childhood nemeses. I did, and it was humiliating. I wouldn't have minded meeting that demon who nearly killed me as a defenseless child and pay it back with a swift death now that I was all grown and trained, but I was almost as powerless against it as I was back then. My Cold Bastard just whooshed through its shadowy form, leaving barely a mark, even though I had charged it with a demonbane liturgy. Only Thane's legendary sword seemed to bite against it, and it evaded that easily enough simply by flying. At least it didn't manage to hurt us either, and had the good sense to escape before we found the Sword of Valor and locked it in within the citadel. I guess it does pay to be a trained adult. But we can add ranged combattants and incorporeals to the long list of tasks we are ill-suited to — at least, resource-depleted as we were.
Hey Ragathiel — (Can I call you Rags? Raggy? Raggamuffin? No...?) I am sure getting my ass handed to me a lot these days. I feel like I spend more time healing myself back up (badly) than dishing out the pain in the other direction. Serves me well for rushing in first every time, but... isn't that what you would do as well? Then again, I doubt you need to call medic at the first clash with the enemy. I'm told you wrestled a demonic serpent for 16 years. Probably didn't b~$&! about it either. I get it, I'll shut up now. I'm rather proud of how we fared with Joran Vhane and Nurah, though. Honestly, after seeing how Aron suffered under Nurah's manipulations, I had expected to strike her down in wrath at first sight. But she seemed so pitiful when we finally found her, like her work for the demons had cost her more than us. Tanaquil brilliantly stood her ground even when it turned out Nurah had been a slave to her reprehensible family back in Cheliax. Zsoltan managed to reach out to his uncle's family heart even though he been a toddler when he had last met him. While Nurah ultimately fled the scene under cover of invisibility, Joran was willing to guide us to the tapestry and then take his chances with us. I have high hopes for his redemption. On the flipside, Staunton Vhane gave no indication of being redeemable, so we had to defeat him the old-fashioned way. He and Thane more or less dueled each other, Antipaladin against Paladin, Evil against Good: a clash of extremes. If Tanaquil hadn't landed a truly Mythic Enervation on Staunton and I hadn't slapped some timely healing into Thane's back, he would likely have fallen. But then, having friends to back you up is part of being Good, so fair game in my book. We were even going to spare Staunton's life, but as soon as he fell unconscious, his body consumed itself in oddly crystalline-looking purple flames. Tanaquil called the color something like porpy-porpy and linked it to a certain place in the domain of the demon goddess Nocticula, so who knows, perhaps this display was meant to cheat death rather than to embrace it. We'll see. Ugh, but then the mage in the dungeon... a relative of Tanaquil's, apparently (what are the odds?), in the midst of performing some ritual to bring down the citadel, Drezen and everything around it in some new cataclysm. Protected by countless spells as she was, she herself proved rather unassailable. Meanwhile, I was stuck behind a wall of force and had to climb my way back out most ignominiously (in armor!), only to be taken out of the fight with a magical cloud of Chelaxian sewer gas. She eventually got annoyed of our cumbersome attempts on her life and made an exit. Oh well. At least we managed to interrupt the ritual. By the way, did you see my new armor? It's from the chimera's hoard on the tower we came in through. I love how light it feels — I wouldn't have made it over that wall in my old plate! I'm told it will change its heraldry to match my creed one it gets accustomed to me. I still have to learn how not to embarass you as a holy warrior, but at least I'll look the part now.
Heads up: While this WotR campaign is still on hold indefinitely, we're about to start our War for the Crown game as GMed by Kyrademon (Ice the mermaid, Mrriaál the catwoman, Tanaquil the evil sorceress). Stay tuned for the link!
Eh, I remember Saga being all about superpowered Jedis and underpowered muggles. Not my cup of tea. We had fun with a short game of Edge of the Empire a while ago, even if the advantage/disadvantage system slowed us down and felt like a chore (I guess it gets better once you have a better idea how to use it). I also find the system with the ability trees rather offputting — most of them just feel like unnecessarily convoluted ways to get to Dedication. (A notable exception being the Gadgeteer. Good stuff.) WEG d6 is supposed to be slim and elegant to give us a break from our Pathfinder addiction. I suspect it will do fine in that role.
Ooo, what kind of Star Wars game? Based on WEG d6 1st edition, with some house rules inspired by 2nd edition REUP. Homebrew campaign, I believe. Thane/Bit/Azriel is the GM. But best not to burn out on the game. Yeah, we're in it for the long haul. And I look forward to seeing how Kyrademon does as a GM! :) Me too, and War for the Crown should be particularly well tailored to his storytelling talents.
Hey Ragathiel — here we are again, treading the path of war. Unlike our little skirmish in the underground, the stakes are now infinitely much higher. The cost of failure is the instant death of tens of thousand crusaders all around the Worldwound, followed by no less than the extinction of mankind as the demon host takes the world by storm. The only thing that makes the pressure bearable is the sheer unimaginable scale of it — in contrast, our task is mercifully limited and straightforward. A small building, two and a half floors, roughly three rooms per floor; or so our sources claimed. Unlike the rival tribes of Descendants underground, our enemies here are beyond any moral ambiguity, and thus to be terminated with extreme prejudice. I try not to exercise my imagination too much about what we will encounter within these walls. I have no doubt that their numbers are stacked against us, and given the key importance of the wardstone in the enemy's grand design, I expect it is guarded by a choicer breed of demons and cultists than the ones we've barely prevailed against in the past two days. But there are no questions to mull over, no decisions to make. It's us or them, and the clock is ticking. Out there in the city, Irabeth's company is paying in blood, limbs, and lives for each minute we spend. I am become a blade. Wield me, Ragathiel. PS: I delivered a baby last night. Can you believe it? I was utterly unprepared, the birth was going traumatically awry, blood everywhere, no healer in sight. I spent the last of my own curative magic on Julli, as well as some of my scant consumables, and Tanaquil wrought some arcane magic on her to heighten her body's endurance. Even so, she remained unconscious and at death's door throughout, and just barely pulled through. I've never felt so helpless and out of my depth in my life. And yet it ended well. I grinned like a gingerbread horse when I held the tiny baby in my blood-soaked hands. If I could get through this, how bad can the Gray Garrison really be in comparison? PPS: I sent Thane to get us one of the company's actual healers before Tanaquil and I set off to find Julli. He did eventually arrive with a healer in tow — after it was all over. Just before Julli's husband fainted, he revealed the boy's name... I'm sure you guessed it. Thane. (Men...) I just hope when this opera of ours is finished, the critics will tear it apart. Thane is clearly a Mary Sue. PPPS: I later claimed Jadhanakṛti would have worked for a boy, but I suppose the male version would have to be Jadhanakṛta? I really know shamefully little about the Old Country's tongue. I'll have to study it someday, preferably when I've saved the world and retired and have more time on my hands than I can use.
Evil according to set, objective rules rather than some eternally arguable subjective ethos.
why Bestow Curse is less evil than Fleshworm Infestation
Hey Ragathiel — so perhaps I was exaggerating a bit when I likened the Defender's Heart to a metropolis. There's certainly a heartening number of survivors here, but they are as organized as a bag of cats. We were hoping to replenish some of our strained resources, but since there was no such thing as a warehouse or armory, we were pretty much down to walking through the crowded corridors and talking to people haphazardly until we met someone willing to barter. Thane got lucky and scored a solid set of half plate, whereas I spent all my time just looking for a healer to tend to my wound fever. I did eventually find a priest who cured me with a powerful incantation, far above what I can muster, for what seemed like a pittance of a price. He and his colleagues in vocation were so overworked that I half considered buying them some of their own medicine. In any case, I gave up on finding myself a cold iron bastard sword, as I had hoped. They're rare enough weapons to begin with, and even if there had been one up for bartering, I could have spent the whole night looking for it. My trusty morningstar will have to do for now. I do admit I'm starting to appreciate the solid report of a bludgeon connecting with its intended target. Sword wounds can be deceptive, but if you've hit someone with a mace, you know you've hit them. I hope you don't mind me going off-brand for a bit! But you're a soldier yourself, I'm sure you understand. Speaking of understanding: Irabeth openly distrusted Tanaquil, and not just because of the horns. Turns out she radiates an evil aura! I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself, and even so, it's blatantly at odds with her behavior and my assessment of her character. Anyway, none of our group seemed too fazed, and we convinced Irabeth to take our word for it. I had a very interesting chat with Tanaquil about the matter afterwards. According to her, her alignment is entirely due to her habitual use of evil spells, rather than to any heinous acts. If I understand her correctly, she deliberately does this to cultivate an evil alignment, so as to follow in the proud family tradition of her evil forebears. She seems hell-bent on living up to her parents' and grandparents' expectations, even though they most definitely earned their evil alignment the old-fashioned way. Talk about daddy issues! And would her ancestors really approve of her idealistic crusade on the basis of such a mere technicality? Well, I suppose exploiting legal loopholes is a traditional Chelaxian thing, so they'd have to respect that, at least. Tanaquil made a very good point on how the magic concept of Good and Evil is broken, on the basis of the extremely arbitrary way in which some spells are Evil-aligned whereas others are not. She takes this as proof that Good and Evil are not actually a matter of laudable and objectionable morals, but rather just different cultural tradition... like tea and coffee, I suppose. (Where coffee would correspond to Evil, obviously.) She agrees that most Evil Chelaxians behave in reprehensible ways («giving Evil a bad name»), but she blames that on the corrupting influence of Chaos, rather than Evil itself. I did point out that the same rules of magic that she invokes to defend Evil also insist that most of those Chelaxians are, in fact, Lawful rather than Chaotic. She had no answer to that. Maybe I'm actually getting through to her? And if Chaos were the problem, wouldn't the faithful of Desna be a scourge upon the land...? Tanaquil is a good person, no doubt about that. I do think her fixation on Evil is unhealthy, and she would be more at peace with herself and her convictions if she embraced her goodness rather than masking it with an artificial stigma of Evil. I'm not going to risk our rapport pushing the issue, but I hope being part of our group and fighting demons among the forces of Good might naturally soften her stance and bring her to reconsider. The mundane concepts of Good and Evil might not be as objective and testable as the magical ones, and the two concepts might be at odds with each other, but that doesn't render the former moot. Thane and Tanaquil think me naïve to believe in the former, but things like morality, altruism and kindness are older, more universal and more relevant concepts than the technicalities of arcane theory. If magic evil fails to match moral evil, it is the former that should be discredited.
Hey Ragathiel — is it just me or are things looking up a bit? Irabeth's improvised stronghold feels like a metropolis after the desolation we've wandered through. We've managed to vanquish all the demons we met, we saved a pregnant woman, we reunited Anevia with her wife, and best of all, we got rid of Horgus. Things could be worse. It's not that I don't see the other sides of those coins. The survivors are a mere sliver of a shadow of the city's original population. For that one pregnant woman we saved, countless others were slaughtered. The demons we faced were the least of their kinds, and yet it cost us our utmost to prevail against them. Meanwhile, the paths of destruction through the buildings and the verbal accounts of the survivors speak of demons of unimaginable power. We might just have been exceedingly lucky in our choice of path so far, and the next encounter might spell our certain doom. But be that as it may, the fates have tossed us a bone, and I'll be damned if I don't gnaw the hells out of it. Who knows, maybe they even have tea at the Defender's Heart.
Hey Ragathiel — I'm not sure what I expected from Kenabres, but it caught me unprepared. I should be glad the streets weren't swarming with demons anymore, but the emptiness is difficult to stomach. Only a fraction of the buildings lie in rubble, with the rest just... given up for lost. Perhaps a giant crater would be easier to deal with. The worst part is that when we finally met someone in the streets, it was a band of desperation-crazed survivors about to slaughter an innocent girl on the off-chance that it might grant their swords magical powers against demons. With that sort of crusader, who even needs demons? If you gods were trying to prove a point here, yes, we get it. The bad guys won. The crusade is crushed both in body and in spirit. At least they had the good sense to give up the girl and leave. The proverbial withering glare of the inquisition at work? I just hope they won't just find another orphan to sacrifice to their superstitions once they're out of our sight.
Also, what kind of crusader needs a demonic invasion to figure out that regular weapons barely so much as scratch demons? The pamphlets with Yaniel's sound advice are everywhere (sponsored by the weapon shops, sure, but sound advice nonetheless). Even I read one, and you know how much I loathe reading. It's not like cold iron costs the world, either; everyone can afford at least a cold iron dagger. Back in that maze, I was certainly glad to have that cold iron morningstar at hand, uncultured as it may be compared to my blade. I had to crush the three demons more or less by myself after they took out Thane and Zsoltan with that cloud of miasma. Tanaquil did surprise me once by planting a cold iron bolt solidly into the second of the demons, and then again by rushing the last one of them with her spear when I threatened to succumb to it. She's full of surprises, that one! Zsoltan may have fists of steel and the temper to go with them, but he didn't get past the demons' tough hide. We'll have to get him a cold iron weapon as soon as we can. I just hope he didn't take an oath never to bear arms or somesuch. I suspect it might be spectacularly difficult to change his mind on anything, even for dwarven standards. At least Thane got a cold iron sword handed to him on a silver platter, and it's no less than Yaniel's own legendary blade. To be fair, he probably could have hewn his way through any demon with that old greatsword of his... And he seems to be having trouble adjusting to the shorter blade. From the way he's swearing at it, one might think Iomedae sent it to him personally as a convoluted form of punishment. But I admit I was amazed to see a magical weapon up close, and a legendary one at that. Thane seemed to share some sort of religious bonding moment with it when he picked it up. Good for him, I guess.
You know, come to think of it, the strange coincidences that brought our group together, spirited us away from the midst of mayhem to relative safety, led us to a forgotten army of reinforcements just waiting to rejoin the fight, and thrust a sword of legend onto Thane would make a curious amount of sense if we were living through the origin story of a hero. Are we all supporting characters in Thane's gods-ordained path to glory? He did start on a low point, turned away from his faith, but already things are starting to look up for him with the discovery that demon cults might be responsible for the horrors he witnessed. And the rest of us are a suitably diverse cast of characters: The blinded sage, the hobbled ranger, the grim dwarf, the insufferable rich imbecile, the exotic warrior princess, even the requisite token devil... And then there's the unlikely relations, too: Two cousins, polar opposites in many ways, grown up in distant countries and estranged by a decade, suddenly reunited? At least three people with independent ties to the mysterious Irabeth? It's a bit much, even for an opera. I can only hope it's not the kind of story where the supporting characters die horribly one by one to heighten the hero's drama.
Oh, is *that* the tea you're missing? And here Tanaquil was thinking you were longing for a nice orange pekoe.
Hey Ragathiel — We went to war. I hope to gods it's the right side we're fighting for. It's one thing to cut down the demons invading our land, whose evil is woven into their very being... but here, we're eradicating one tribe of deformed humanoids merely on behalf of another tribe of deformed humanoids, on nothing but Chief Suul's word. We're the invaders here. If we had met the tribes in the reverse order, would we have fought for the other side instead? Probably not, to be fair. The human cultists among the other tribe wear their demonic allegiance in plain sight and clearly fill some dominant role in their society, whereas Chief Suul makes a convincing argument for his people's century-long perseverance in the service of the crusades. If he is to be believed, there is a veritable army of their kind living in this network of caves, and he is rallying them to join the fourth crusade, what little there may be left of it. In cleaving them a path through the cultists to the surface, we might end up aiding the crusade much more than if we'd simply joined the fray on the surface. It's the right thing to do. Also: Ouch. Warfare hurts. That last fight almost took us all out. Without Chief Suul's curative potions or Aravashnial's powerful scrolls that Tanaquil expertly employed to shape the battlefield, we would be lizard food now. Aravashnial also worked some advanced magic on me to enhance my heroism, and I did get to put it to good use a few times. I hope you were watching! At least I now know the meaning of fighting to exhaustion. I'll have to learn that spell for myself one day, it feels good. I suppose we've cleared at best half the enemy forces so far, so we've still got a lot of fighting ahead of us — without the benefit of magic scrolls. At least we found a wand on the dead inquisitor, which she had used to summon a spiritual weapon to attack me during our confrontation (again: ouch), and there are a few charges left on it. Apart from the regular tribespeople, who don't worry me that much as long as they don't get to crowd us, there's at least one more cultist at large. The archer also got away, but I'm hoping she abandoned the lair entirely. I suspect she threw her lot in with the cultists for practical rather than zealous reasons. She certainly knows how to make an arrow count, just ask Thane... Tanaquil seemed positively smitted by the archer's appearance. I can't say I see what she sees — several eyes stacked one above the other, and spider legs sticking out of the back? If anything, one of the first locals we met, Lann, is rather cute. Part of him looks like it belongs to a lizardfolk or nagaji, but it meshes rather well with his human part. It's really more like well-done theater make-up than a deformation. In other circumstances, he could pass as a half-dragon. I was rather dismayed by the revelation that the locals have greatly reduced life spans, with thirty years counting as venerable age. Given Lann's well-behaved morph, I can only hope he's one of the longer-lived ones, and that life on the surface will do him good. But I shouldn't divert myself with such frivolity in the middle of an act of war. Especially given that I lost my entire stash of night-tea in the fall.
Hey Ragathiel — If I had to guess, I'd say the theme of today's lesson is prejudice. Horgus and Aravashnial are certainly trying to outdo each other in overt racism, ranting against Chelaxians, «mole people», and even Dwarves in plain earshot of such representatives. Had I not shed my mother's accent among my Taldan peers, no doubt they would have added Vudrans to the list. Aravanshial is claiming academic interest as the reason for his behavior, whereas I suppose Horgus is comfortable just being an arse. As for religious prejudice, Thane appears convinced that we Ragathielites are fanatics who readily slay innocents if it serves our path to glory, whereas Tanaquil gave me the strangest of looks — almost panicked? — when I mentioned that the technical term for my vocation was Inquisitor, as if I were just looking for the nearest pyre to strap her to. Does she really doubt my judgment that much? Or does she just extrapolate from the Chelaxian brand of religious persecution? Then again, Thane does appear to have a dark history with his fellow Iomedaeans, and if these Baphomet cultists are any indication, the problem might be wide-spread and systemic.
As for my own prejudices? Well, for one thing, I am not particularly proud of having treated Horgus with nothing but impatience and contempt since the very beginning. Sure, his behavior is indisputably imbecilic and disruptive, but the confrontational way in which Thane and I have been reacting to him no doubt reinforced it. Meanwhile, Tanaquil seems to be making headway with Horgus. She is the only one in the group who can muster the patience to speak to him without losing her temper, and she appears to be getting through to him. Who knows, she might even get him to shut up and pull his weight. She puts us to shame, honestly. I do wonder, though, whether Tanquil adopted a considerate and de-escalating air as a self-preservation tactic, so as not to give the more fanatic elements of the crusade a reason to persecute her. Maybe that's also how you survive as a reasonable person under the merciless pressure of Chelaxian culture while avoiding forced re-education. Hmm. Add that to my list of prejudices.
O Lord RAGATHIEL, blessèd be Thy name upon the World: Hear my plight, for I Hey, it's me, Jadni. Remember me? I wouldn't blame if you didn't; I don't do this nearly often enough. Truth be told, I've always wondered why you accepted me into your service to begin with. You must know about the selfish motives that brought me into your fold. But I reckon you're the pragmatic kind of god — you're a general, after all —, and I do mean to bear the sword into battle for you. If you have a plan for me, please show me. I do hope you have a plan. Forgive my candor, but what the vrock were you gods thinking? Ten thousand faithful souls in that city, generations of paladins toiling their life away for you, jumping through all your hoops to please you, and you let this happen? What does it take to get a reaction out of you? Do mortal lives mean anything to you at all? We could have used a miracle, or even just a bit of warning. I suppose I should be grateful to be alive. Terendelev used her last breath to spare us. I'm not sure if I was imagining things, but it felt like she beseeched (beseech! that was the word! well, too late) us to take on her mantle as protectors of Kenabres. It's not like she had many options left, but even so, we're a pitiful investment. I mean, it could be worse. My cousin Tanaquil is here, of all people. Last time I saw her, a highly improbable demon-related freak incident almost killed the both of us. And now this? It has to be more than just bad luck. What if we were meant to end up here? But whatever purpose we're supposed to serve, I doubt we'll do any good like this, hobbling through the deep bowels of the Earth, half of us wounded, half of us mad, barely managing not to get nibbled to death by the vermin of the depths. We lost most of our belongings, too. We're counting every crossbow bolt and candle stump. Even my tea stash is gone. Mother's chai mixture, straight from the old country, half a hundred cups' worth. If this is your punishment, Ragathiel, I will endure it, but I'm worried it might not even be that. Do you not care for our fates? Or do you, but are powerless to interfere? Do you even see us down here? Please don't leave us alone. I beseech Thee.
1 | Lo! In the land of Taldor, there lived a noble house by the name of Vārima, and though they had served as a pillar of the royal court of Taldor for centuries, they kept in mind the customs of the land of Vudra, whence had come their forebears.
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