Sir Ilivan of Erages's page

Iomedae.... He whispers softly.

In the distance rises a cloud of dust, whirling in the wind. The size of it gives away a simple fact... reinforcements are coming and in numbers. Sir Ilivan looks at the horde, looks at the captured crusaders, and then at the pathfinders.

Go. I'll buy you time. Get them clear...

He swallows for a moment, shaking before he closes his eyes.

Thank you pathfinders. Thank you for reminding me... Just... thank you.

He stares off at the cloud.

If you can... Remember me like this. Not the cynical coward you met.

Sir Ilivan takes the wineskin and downs it in great swallows before sighing and wiping his mouth. Shaking, he passes the now empty wineskin back and slowly starts to stand, wiping his face.

I just... I'm sorry... I got... During the fourth crusade, I got.... A demon took over... It was like... Watching from outside, screaming at myself to stop... I cut down my own men... two of my own men... gutted them with my own sword before they realized... I just... I could feel myself losing it and I just... I couldn't go through that again. I just couldn't... The rest of my men were able to hold me while the clerics purged me of the taint thank Iomedea.... but my weakness is why those men died. Died by my hand, by the man they trusted...

He looks down to the ground, rubbing his forehead and steeling himself little by little.

Flynn is able to find the tracks very easily. The burning one leaves very distinctively easy to find tracks luckily.

Sir Ilivan sits, trying to look composed and failing miserably.

It's... It's alright... It's just... It's what we have to do... to survive...

As Vespaja speaks calmly to the Crusader, he seems to come out of the fit, though slowly. As he uncurls, she can see that his face is streaked with tears, the dirt covering his face making the tracks clear as day. He waves at her weakly and mumbles,

I... You shouldn't seen that... i... we should....

He stumbles to his feet grabbing his horse and tries to hop on, but his fleet slips from the stirrup and he falls again into a loose heap. He starts to stand again, his whole body still shaking.

I'm... I'm fine... we should.... I...

He is clearly not fine.

Having seen the full course of what affected you, I will allow anyone a Knowledge (Planes) or Heal check to try and know what it was that affected you. If your going to speak further to Sir Ilivan, and try and calm him down or get more info out of him, please include a diplomacy roll with your attempt.

Sir Ilivan curls into the ground, his body shaking and shuddering, his voice tearing from his throat in screams of fear.

NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN OH IOMEDAE PROTECT ME NOT AGAIN I CAN'T I WON'T I CAN'T I CAN'T NOT AGAIN NOT AGAIN IOOOOMEEEDAE!!

It doesn't say special material is available, but I'll rule that if you pay the armory for it, you can pick up more cold iron ammo. I think that might be to precious to give out I'm these lands but if to have money that can purchase other useful supplies.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Sir Ilivan stares at Bo and Braxus and Vespaja for a long moment. His hand grips his sword tightly, and he takes a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of nose, he speaks firmly, but with frustration under his breath.

Fine. I may not be your commanding officer, but I promised I'd try to get you all home in one piece. I'll come along, if only to keep you from killing yourselves in the world wound before we reach the bones of those poor cavalrymen.

He quickly turns and hops onto his horse. He looks to Braxus, and there is a new sharpness in his eyes.

Your right to some extent. I have been tempered. But I have not been broken, not yet. Let's go risk our lives for some dead soldiers, but at the very least we can kill us some demons in honor of those who were stupid enough to get themselves killed last night.

To Vespaja, he gives a little grin.

A smuggler once, maybe. But I gave up the easy life a long time ago. Nothing is left but this struggle, and I took it on willingly. Let's go.

Once everyone is ready, he leads the team to the ford that marks the crossing of the West Sellen river. There, the trail is easy enough to pick up.

Sir Ilivan glares at Org, and his fists tighten in fury.

Big words from some soft grave-robber. You've not had to fight battle with hell itself. You've not had to spend every day watching people get slaughtered, tortured, and worse. You've not seen the screaming demons of hell come forward to rip souls from bodies and more.

He steps forward, and inch from Org's face.

So don't you dare judge me. You haven't seen what I've seen... cause I guarantee you, if you had, you'd be pissing your pants at the idea of going into that hell to find some half chewed bones of dead soldiers who died because they where to stupid to realize a trap when it was laid out in front of there eyes! THIS IS WHY THEY DO THIS. To get stupid, naïve people to follow them and get themselves killed.

Sir Ilivan waits until the commander has left before snorting in derision.

This is clearly a fool’s errand, an ill-conceived endeavor dreamt up by an inexperienced commander wracked with guilt. Those men are already dead, and there is no point in wasting time throwing more lives after dead men. We should head back with our report and not waste time on this wild goose-chase.

His face is once again stony and unmoving.

Sir Ilvian's face hardens at the story and looks pointedly at the pathfinders.

Using the torture of innocents to draw out attackers for a sneak attack? Hardly surprising.

Sir Ilivan whispers quietly.

Nobody make any sudden moves. And by Iomedae don't touch your weapons.

He calls out loud to the sentry.

That the Black Prince might be redeemed!

A man leans over the tower, scanning them with a wary eye.

That's a paladin. Sir Ilivan whispers again.

Making sure we ain't demon possessed with his sight of Iomedae. Hope none of you read as evil.... you won't be killed, in case your just a nere-do-well, but You won't be allowed to enter the fort. When we do, please don't do ANYTHING that might give these paladin's cause to detain you. By the looks of things, this battle did not go well, and they will be very on edge.

To his credit Sir Ilivan faces Braxus's screaming with the stoicism of a soldier. After Braxus is finished, he looks again out at the retreating farmers.

Perhaps.... Perhaps. It was still an unnecessary risk, and it still put you in danger that could have ended the mission. But... some lives have been saved. Iomedae be praised, perhaps it's been to long since I've been able to utter that phrase. Come on, the lot of you, let's get moving, we have to make up for lost time for this little side adventure.

He guides the troupe back to his horse and jumps on, clicking at the beast to begin walking along the path again. As others speak to talk to him, he waves it off, grumbling softly something about being tired and not wanting to talk.

Sir Ilivan looks hard at Vespaja and is silent for a moment. Then he shrugs his shoulders and goes to stand, leaning against the tree. He takes a deep breath and then speaks, his actions trying to say "nonchalant" and "Unattached" but a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Fine. You lot are Pathfinders, not my soldiers. If you want to waste time, energy, and risk your necks to help a couple of cultists, so be it, I can't stop you. I'll stay here, and if you get slaughtered I won't be coming to your aid. I'll pack up and go and finish the mission and let your Venture-Captain know that your own foolishness got you killed. But if your smart, you'll know that it's best just to walk away...

He sounds very sad at the last, and he looks down on the folks below and shakes his head slowly.

Flyn, a bit shocked at Sir Ilivan's words, looks to the crusader. "Sir, with respect, surely what I've just told you must change your assessment..."

Sir Ilivan turns, his face flashing in anger momentarily before resuming his stony masked countenance.

Hardly. Two minor demons do not a host make. It's not worth the time to waste killing cultists, or the possible danger we may put ourselves in. It just means that the idiots actually succeeded in conjuring up the demons they so worship before getting themselves killed. Even assuming the two down their are "Pwor fwightened Innocents" then they'll just be killed the moment we go down there, and nothing will be solved except risking our skin, and then who will finish the mission and provide the report that command needs?

His voice is stiff, angry, and obviously holding back scorn and derision.

Besides, anyone who lets themselves get possessed by demons deserves what comes to them afterwards. Their weakness aids the enemy just as much as picking up the sword in the name of the dark prince does. Leave them, and let's march on.

You can really feel the hate in his voice as he finishes.

Sir Ilivan's face curls in disgust and he spts on the ground.

Cultists I bet. Fools, hoping the demons will give them reprieve if their vile acts are done in their name. Pathetic. Necromancy to, just to ensure their souls are damned and consumed by the beasts of hell. It's just a small batch of them though, nothing worth wasting our time on.

He looks around for a moment before turning his back on the scene.

Let's get moving team. There is no greater force here to report on. We have a mission to get back to.

He begins to walk away from the scene below, his face a stony mask.

Sir Ilivan pats his horse a few times.
Be good Rokko. I'll be back soon.

He turns to the team, his voice quiet and hushed.

Up ahead is Bedis, a small fishing and farming village, until the demons drove out it's people almost 40 years ago. Nowadays, we mostly use it as a stop off point to let horses water and eat in the old orchards here before continuing on. Now, the village itself is just up ahead, and the enemy has used it as a staging ground in the past. There also happens to be a hill that's a damn good vantage point that will let us see into the village without being spotted ourselves. I want to drop in, make sure there is no amassed enemy forces, and then continue on. Follow me, and keep quiet.

Sir Ilivan chuckles darkly.

This is the world wound. Going outside means fighting for your life against the forces of hell, let alone going on a scout and report. Yes, our goal is to find out the damage and report it. But don't let the mission parameters fool you into thinking this will be "Safe." Like I said, follow my orders, don't do anything stupid, and don't get yourselves killed.

Sir Ilivan nods to Braxus, his face stony and his eyes hard, but appreciative.

Thank you. Her Majesty is a kind, good leader, and I'm proud to serve her. I will not pretend that the mistreatment I received in Kyonin did not guide me into who I am, but I like to think it strengthened me, helped me realize that blood is not what matters, it is actions, and deeds that make us who we are.

He turns and looks to the group and meets each team members eyes one by one before continuing.

You pathfinders are not my soldiers. I can't, strictly speaking, make you obey me. However, if your smart, you'll listen to my orders and follow my lead, it'll give you the best chance to survive. The demons of the world wound are a horror that will shake even the mightiest of wills, so don't get cocky. Once we adjure here, we'll meet at the front gate in a few hours to give you time to gather your things and make any last minute preparations. The fort isn't to far, but it's gonna be a bit of a trek, so be prepared for the march. Now, are there any last questions before we set out? Otherwise, I'll see you in the field beyond the front gate.

Since the last major attack, the demonic armies have retreated into the Worldwound’s interior. We will most likely face minor demons sent to test the current efficacy of the wardstones. Expect dretches, brimoraks, and possibly schirs.

Ilivan turns to Vespaja and looks her up and down, his eyes resting on her Calistrian tattoo before nodding curtly, seemingly unaffected by her close proximity.

Yes, I used to be a smuggler. Damn good one too. But Iomeda gave me the redemption that I sought, and then gave me the power to use the strength I found in that redemption as her tool against evil. The past is not erased, but it is forgiven as I give my life to serve good. I hope your faith in The Savored Sting lends you the solace for your former life that it did for mine, and the power necessary to survive here at the wound.

As she steps away from him, he continues.

I know the dangers of the world wound well enough, and with any luck, you won't have to face anything too difficult. As for any information on the attack on the fort, the report was rushed and minimal, merely reporting nearby attacks. Simply put, we need boots on the ground and eyes on the damage to know the extent.

“Pathfinders,” he barks in quick staccato without further preamble, “our mission is simple. The recent attacks on the wardstones have compromised our defenses, and the enemy presses its advantage. We have received word of attacks on Fort Portolmaeus to the north, but the crusader leadership suspects that other parts of the line may have been breached as well.

We will proceed to Fort Portolmaeus tomorrow morning on horseback to assess the damage, using the passphrase ‘That the Black Prince might be redeemed’ to permit us entry. On the way there, we will scout for enemy movements and other signs of demon activity. Once we have completed our assessment, we are to return to Nerosyan and you will be relieved of your obligations to the Crown. Do you have any questions?”