Thank you for the time and effort placed into the game. I definitely know how time can be a factor. Good luck!
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Pytros sleeps as a soldier does - in quick bursts, seemingly at any place of his choosing. Long used to the fatigue during deployments, he is awake before the dawn breaks on the new day. He spent some time conferring with Irabeth during the evening, offering his tactical expertise in the defense of the refugee camp. He also helps triage new arrivals for injuries and helps debrief them to get a better idea of what parts of the city are salvageable. As Irabeth explains the discovery of the note, he feels a chill of recognition. This is the precise thing that he had come to the Worldwound to investigate and prevent. "As you may be able to tell from my accent," he explains, "I was born in Hermea. I was bred to be a soldier, to lead my people in war. It was in this role that I discovered a terrible secret. My squad destroyed an unauthorized ship attempting to gain access to our shores. In its ruin, I found a book that explained how to corrupt the Wardstones and how to use that corrupted power to mutate humanity to better suit demonic aims. I brought this information to the Council of Enlightenment, but I believe that one or more of their number have been corrupted. They sent a tiefling assassin to kill me. He killed my mentor, yet I escaped. I made my way here in an attempt to warn the leadership, but it appears that I was too late..." Pytros stops for a minute, letting his explanation sink in. "It seems that the cultists are capable of infiltrating our societies at the highest level. They are a cancer that must die whenever discovered. The more pressing matter is this troll and control of the merchants' shops. We will require an ample supply of both fire and acid to put it down, and intelligent tactics. Trolls are rash and stupid, but incredibly dangerous."
Sorry for the lack of posting. I have been preparing to leave Homicide with my impending promotion, which has taken a lot of my time and mental energy. My desk is now packed up and my documentation is finished, so I'm back on track.
Pytros instantly recognizes the effects of the gaseous form spell and the inherent weaknesses of the misty form. "Arwen, use your sword! The spell has no protection against magic attacks!" He backs up as Maximillian gathers a burst of color from his hands so that he is not caught in its wake. There's little that he can do at this point, and must rely on the others to finish off the marauder.
Pytros snaps his whip quickly at the man, but he has to wrench back at the last moment as Arwen wanders into his attack angle.
Pytros feels the scorching heat blistering his skin. The armor shields him from the worst of it, but he can feel the burning flames licking his chest and neck. "Have it your way," he says to the semivisible wizard. "I don't take prisoners anyway." He doesn't make a move, instead waiting to strike if he casts another spell or tries to move away or stand.
Pytros takes advantage of the wizard's spell that grants him sight of the previously-invisible ambusher. He breaks into a sprint, dashing towards him while reaching out with his whip. The large man crashes to the ground as Pytros closes the distance between them, ready to brutally kick him in the face should he try to escape. "Surrender!"
Pytros walks in cautiously, ears and eyes open for anything out of place. If the demons have identified Anevia or Irabeth, it's possible that they might set up an ambush for them. The demons may be destructive and cruel, but they have a certain animalistic cunning that might result in an attack as thy try to claim the weapons. "Let's give it a moment," he whispers. "Alarm spells have two variants; the first sounds an audible alarm that we would be able to hear, and the second is a mental alert. I believe it has a one-mile range of effect. As we didn't hear the former, it is likely the latter - and the individual that cast the spell is within one mile."
Pytros grits his teeth as the demon's teeth and claws scrape his legs. He feels a touch ill as the others fall upon it and finish it off. His eyes look sunken and tired, marring his handsome countenance. He straps his whip back to his belt, wiping the blood from his legs. "Hideous little beasts. There are a thousand thousand more like them waiting out there for us. Let's check the area for survivors and be on our way."
Pytros steps forward, pressing the advantage of the last demon's blindness as Arwen and Ruarc kill the other. "Joao, now!" He steps forward and sweeps his leg in a smooth strike, knocking the demon off-balance. He follows up in an unbroken spin that flattens the demon right at the feet of his comrade. A few steps to the side and the Varisian should be in a perfect position to kill it. Even if he is unable to do so, the creature is surrounded by enemies and flat on its back - its defeat is a matter of time, and they will not accept the surrender of a demon.
Pytros steps back to protect the paladin's flank, standing between him and Aglamore. He strikes out with the whip again, trying to wrench the wrecker demon to the ground. He pulls the rat-like demon towards him, nearly knocking him off his feet - but the demon rights itself at the last moment to stay upright. "Anyone have a mirror? Wrecker demons cannot stand the sight of their own visage," he alerts the others. "Guard yourselves against their bite!
Sorry for the delay. I am finally done with the sergeant process that I have been working on for months. I finished the final step on Saturday and should find out about the results in a few weeks.
Pytros hustles quickly to position himself next to the cleric of Iomedae. He coils his whip, ready to bring down one of the creatures as they approach them. If he times it correctly, he can trip one of them as they approach Aglamore, giving the warrior-priest a chance to keep it at bay with the superior length of his spear. Meanwhile, he tries to recall any information about the exact nature of the demons - strengths, weaknesses, and how to best kill them.
"This particular challenge is. Should we go in unprepared, we've become part of the problem and we either die or force the defenders to expend resources on our rescue. Are there any other sources of something that can cause harm to a fiend-blooded troll?" He thinks of what he knows of both trolls - admittedly hardly more than common lore - and what he knows of demons, and how the natural strengths of both might interact. "They are resistant to flames, the weakness of trolls, as well as all weapons. Resistant to spells as well, and most weaponry. Of course, it may be more deeply affected and be a half-fiend, in which case it would be resistant to acid as well. It will be a difficult creature to slay, regardless of the difficulty of ensuring that it does not immediately regenerate."
Pytros shakes his head in disagreement. "Trolls eat human flesh, but it will want to make its meal last. I doubt that it will eat more than one person in the time it will take us to find additional weapons and resources. Look at what the troll did to the patrolmen. We will need weapons. Do any of you have the source of fire or acid necessary to suppress its regenerative abilities? As much as I admire your desire to rush headlong to their rescue, the sensible thing - the thing that will allow us to do so safer and to save more of them - is for us to find additional arms." He scowls as he lays out his analysis, unhappy that he would leave the townsfolk without help for a period, but he sticks by that difficult decision.
Pytros follows along, not inserting himself into the discussion about the prisoner's fate. He believes that the man should be hanged for his crimes, and that they would have been justified in handing down the judgment on the spot. With the city nearly destroyed, their personal morality is the only real law that remains. He ponders the anarchy that could result as he reads through the books quickly, tossing them aside if they are not useful. He examines them with the hope that he will find information about the Wardstones or the demonic horde in general.
Pytros darts through the stacks to the mercenary standing in a magical grease. He reaches out with his whip and yanks at the man's weapon as he falls to the ground. In a disadvantaged position, the mercenary will likely be out of the fight immediately, allowing the rest of them to focus on the remainder of the force.
Pytros whispers his orders to the others, "Let's go. Aglamore will draw their attacks with his size, surely. Summon your shield, priest, and fight with caution to cover our entrance alongside Arwen. Move quickly and strike hard and fast. Don't let them isolate any of the wizards, especially Max. Spread out to ensure that we are not a single massed target." Pytros takes a position behind the rapidly-enlarging cleric of Iomedae and the tiefling paladin.
Pytros keeps his eyes open for attackers, finding a position of cover while Aglamore works to gain entry. Better the cleric than him. His clear manner might help later, but it likely wouldn't make a great impression upon the scholars they set out to rescue.
"Knowledge is more powerful than any weapon. Demons, for all of their savagery, understand this intimately. They may lack the discipline of the Hellish legions, but they have every bit of cunning." He offers a hand to Maximillian. "I'm Pytros. Do you know the martial capacity of the demons? Hopefully they sent forth a force capable of taking the library under the assumption that it would be relatively unguarded. A group of nabasu, for instance, would be ideal as a strike force of that type. Did you get a good look at their numbers? If it is within the capacity of our defenders to defeat them, we should immediately head there with the intent to save the remaining scholars and the contents of the library." Pytros immediately begins sketching out the details of a plan, waiting for information to fill out and change it. "How did you elude them and get here? What sort of defenses does the library currently have? Do you have a map of the exterior and interior of the library and the surrounding buildings?"
Pytros isn't remarkably pleased about having another tiefling in the group - but at this point, he cannot be picky about his allies. Likewise, he frowns at the relationship between the two women. In Hermea, such a relationship could not result in children and thus was banned. However, this is not Hermea, and he keeps his feelings to himself. "I am Pytros ex-Lucarus. We have fought our way from the infested bowels of this city to this freedom. The demonic power is undeniable, but our human resilience and steadfastedness is greater still. I will tell you what you need to know." Pytros explains the circumstances of their stranding below the city and their formation into a ragtag unit. He explains the battles and makeshift alliances with the mongrelmen, and the presence of the cultists in the caverns. He lays out the intelligence they discovered and the sick, insidious penetration of the cultists into the city. He warns her that some of the soldiers are desperate and mad with that desperation, and the devastation that they saw.
Pytros darts from his position of ambush, setting his feet and shooting the nearest cultist with an arrow. "Free yourselves!" He shouts encouragement at the prisoners as his arrow hits. He prepares to strike out with his feet should the opportunity arise from a careless foe approaching him.
Pytros peeks above the rubble to eye the prisoners and their captors. He tries to gauge how difficult a battle it might be if they ambush the group, and how many of the prisoners might die in the melee. Sometimes it is not enough to do the right thing - saving prisoners - if the right thing is suicidal.
I am studying for my sergeant test, which is a month from today. I expect my posting to be very sporadic.
Pytros gestures to the others, passing on the message for them to find a position of cover. With too many unknowns still present on the battlefield, they cannot assume that the incoming sounds are friendly. If they are, all the better, but it is far better to be prepared to evade or ambush enemies. With the destruction all around them, it is not terribly difficult to find a decent spot of cover. He pulls out his stolen bow and nocks an arrow while crouching on one knee.
Pytros quickly assesses the situation, recalling the words of a crusader who he spoke to on the long trip from Andoran to the Worldwound. The young man had told him that he was in need of the services of a prostitute to ensure that he had no virgin's blood in him so that he could be less attractive to demons intent on torturing him. 'The young man is likely dead now,' Pytros thinks to himself. The crusader had considering remaining in that state so that his blood could be useful in an emergency because the blood of a virgin has properties that could harm demons. It stands to reason that this is the intent of the crusaders. Pytros sheathes his blade and draws the whip from his belt. Should it come to violence, the defenders must live - even if they must learn a lesson well. "We must insist that you leave her alone, soldiers. Who among you is the commander of this unit?"
Pytros gestures to the others to follow the sound of the screams. He keeps his longbow at the ready, leading the group in that direction. He hustles to the bend in the road, taking care to use cover and concealment as to not expose his position prematurely.
Updated Pytros's character sheet. I added another level of fighter (lore warden) and took Improved Trip for the level 3 feat.
"Let's go. Stay alert to stay alive." Pytros scans the sky and surroundings before leading the way in the direction of the manor. He keeps his stolen bow in hand and leaves his whip on his belt.
Pytros emerges from the hole in the ground, looking for signs of life or danger. He whispers to the others, "The defenders - if there are any left - will have created a secondary front and a command post. The attack came from the west, so we go east looking for the command post. If we are fortunate, we are already behind friendly battle lines. We move quietly, quickly, and from cover to cover. We'll stop and scan each time we find a position of cover, then plan where to go." He doesn't mention the devastation, as it is a secondary concern to him compared to finding friendly allies.
Pytros nods to Aglamore. "You should bear it. You may need additional options if pressed into tight quarters where your spear is a hindrance. I am trained in hand-to-hand combat as an option if I am unable to use my whip."
Pytros finds the letter - bloodied and crumpled by the violence - in the cultist's pocket. He reads it aloud to the others in a voice that clearly shows that it is not his own words. "Hosilla, You will remain for the time being in Kenabres, but know this: the city's days are numbered. Seek a place of safety. The underground den of your mongrel lackeys should suffice to keep you safe from the devastation to come. I shall assume command of Drezen shortly and once Vorlesh has finished with the wardstone and Kenabres is no longer of interest to us, you are to return to my side. Your procurement of Yaniel's sword from the museum was masterfully done. I will see that everything is prepared for its corruption once you bring it to the fortress. Also before you leave the city, there are three independent cultist cells I would like you to collect and bring in. They are based out of Nyserian Manor, Topaz solutions and the tower of Estrod. The usual passphrases apply. May Lord Deskari and Lord Baphomet watch over you, Vhane." He ponders over the words of the letter for a few moments. "Do any of those names spark any memories? We must get this information to the city's leaders, or at least what remains of them."
Pytros then pages through the prayerbook looking for some clues as to the mindset of the cultists. He can read and speak Abyssal thanks to his research into the book that eventually drove him from Hermea. Hopefully his knowledge will shed some additional light, especially as to what the 'usual passphrases' might be.
Pytros presses one hand against the table, breathing hard. The fight had been long and vicious, but they had emerged victorious with no true losses. "Everyone all right? Strip the bodies. Perhaps they have supplies that we can use." He heads back to the cultist to see what she has on her person.
Pytros maneuvers through the barricades and through the door, barely giving the cultist another look. "Maeve, let's go!" He shouts an instruction at the scarred woman as he exits the room. The only remaining enemy - the spider-like mongreloid with a bow - is surrounded. He presses the advantage that gives him, sliding next to Ruarc. He raises his right leg and delivers a punishing kick to the creature's chest, rocking its carapace hard and feeling a satisfying crunch as the bony armor begins to break.
Pytros sprints forward as Joao gets between him and the cultist. The whip was having little effect anyway, so he moves to melee range. He drives his fist hard into her just as she tries to bring her glaive down upon him. The powerful blow drops her quickly in a clanging collapse.
Pytros extends his whip at the woman, trying to snatch her glaive away. The whip wraps around it for a moment, only to find her able to hang on as he pulls backwards at it.
Pytros hears Maeve's description of the spell, which gives him enough information to determine the location of the invisible attacker. "There!" He traces a line back through the glaive of force to determine one vector, then does the same for the second glaive to determine a second vector. He traces them backwards to their convergence and snaps his whip at that spot. He pulls it back, disappointed at no cry of pain or drops of blood - but he now has a way to determine the approximate location of the villain.
Pytros steps backwards, hand to his side where the unholy weapon pierced him. He grimaces in pain and puts both hands at the ready to ward off more attacks - from either the invisible cultist or her glaive. He tries to recall what he can about such divine weapons, but it is difficult for him. Divine magic has always, and will always be, a bane to him.
Pytros stands back, scanning the room for the invisible cultist. That glaive could do plenty of damage, and he intends to rip it from her grasp when she reveals herself. He feels the beads of sweat of his exertion, tension, and the stress of the period since they fell accumulate on his person. From his vantage point, he can reach nearly any part of the room with his lengthy reach - except for beyond the barricades. Still, if she appear to attack any of them - even himself - he will be ready to try to take her weapon from her.
"Rest in an enemy's camp while they are aware of our presence? No, that will not occur. Our safest course of action is to break free of the enemy zone of control." He points to the hole in the ground. "When faced with an attack from one direction, the defender would not have retreated to a place with no further retreat possible. I'd wager that an exit to the cavern lays beyond there. We must press forward or fall back entirely, and I believe that this is our best and only chance to escape to the city above." He steps forward to drop down the ladder, waiting for at least one of the others to declare that they will follow.
"Fair enough. We have found common ground, I suppose..." Pytros responds with grim determination. He looks a touch perturbed by Ruarc's appearance, but seemingly keeps it to himself. He is quiet for a moment and looks straight at Ruarc. " You are not the tiefling that murdered my friend and who has hunted me throughout the Inner Sea. He has violet skin with differently colored eyes - one red and the other blue. It would be unfair to judge you based on his actions, especially since you have proven to be a valuable ally here below the city."
Pytros takes a step back as Ruarc answers his question in the worst way possible. He had suspected that the armored templar was inhuman, but he didn't seriously consider the possibility that he was a tiefling. It makes sense quickly to Pytros and places the soul-drinking in a dark new light. His mind rapidly sorts through several scenarios of combat as a reflex, identifying Ruarc as an enemy and neutralizing the threat. Taking his blade would be the first step -- he interrupts himself and disrupts the thought. Ruarc had proven himself time and again as a capable warrior, and his quest to find the Ivory Templars could shed light on Pytros's own investigation. He takes a breath to settle his mind just as Ruarc approaches him. "You are the first tiefling that I've come into contact with that hasn't tried to kill me," he explains. "You've given me no reason to doubt you. We have common cause, and I intend to ask you questions about the Ivory Templars when we arrive upon the surface. But I will look upon your face, just to know who I go into combat with."
In all honesty, Ruarc is the one most similar to Pytros. Pytros is just kind of prejudiced towards tieflings.
Pytros watches Ruarc warily. "What exactly did you do to them, and what are you?" His question contains little judgment, but rather a curiousity of assessment. "Earlier, you performed the same ritual on the necromancer. You said it is a blessing from your god. You know me to be Hermean by my accent, so you'll forgive my ignorance about the ways of the gods. But this seems unusual. You've kept that helmet on this entire time. What lurks underneath?"
Pytros keeps an eye on the hole, whip at the ready to take down any beast that comes up from its depth. "Are you all okay? That one must have been a chieftain. These creatures likely determine their leaders by strength." He takes one of the potions that the group was given and pulls out the stopper. Pytros drinks from the potion, feeling his bruises and injuries fade immediately. The stinging pain from the mongrelman's heavy blow disappears immediately, and Pytros feels a surge of energy. "I fear the one that escaped has likely mustered reinforcements. I say that we cover the hole and make it too heavy to move, then check for other exits. If none exist, we can return here to do what is necessary."
This mongrelman is a legend.
This mongrelman is causing a surprising amount of difficulty.
Pytros snaps the whip again, trying to catch the half-man's legs and bring him to the ground. He pulls it back without success, frustrated at the difficulty of tripping him. He steps around the table, getting within striking distance of the mongrelman. Hopefully his attacks can distract the creature, giving one of the others a better angle to take him down.
Pytros launches another snap of his whip, trying to put the hideous man down. With the table between them, he has to aim high. The whip snaps against the roughest part of the mongrelman's hide. It doesn't appear to cause it any pain whatsoever - not like Aglamore's piercing spear.
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