Tsiron Ragmar's page

Every detail is clear to me even now. The beige walls of my bedroom, the scattered technological gear, the massive, homemade computer on my desk that operated faster than any gaming pro's, the pizza boxes strewn across my shag carpet. The sounds of Brad and Kenny bickering downstairs-most likely their morning routine bickering and &!7$jng about the sides of their room... and oh, yes, ohhhhh yes, that heavenly smell of pancakes! Due to my late night partying, I was barely coherent enough to open my eyes, but the seductive smell wafted into my nostrils, tugging me downstairs.

After lumbering downstairs-nearly falling two times (thank all of the gods everywhere that the wooden stairs had rails)-I sagged into my beat up, badly-needing-reupholtering stuffed chair, groaning. “Fooooood,” I moaned, looking miserable.

Mom looked down at me, exasperated. “I'm guessing you were partying again, judging by the rings under your eyes. Thank the gods your responsible enough to know not to do drugs or drink alchohol, Analise. Anyways, I made pancakes.”

I nodded in gratitude, and I wolfed down a massive stack of the things in 49.12 seconds. I staggered up from the chair and tumbled my way over to the threadbare couch, letting my brain cells atrophy by staring at the TV for a while. After enough express to kill a person of lesser coffee-swilling skills, my tired brain finally remembered it was Launch Day. I burst out of the couch and ran up the stairs with a sound that would've been described in Saturday-morning cartoons as binka-binka-binka.

Bursting through my room door-nearly slipping on three pizza boxes, accidentally spying my portly physique in the mirror that I keep putting off taking down, and crash into my bed, snagging the Riftgear laying on my charred desk, and pulled the bulky helmet on. I had arrived 61.85 seconds before the game went online.

The time slowly went down. As soon as the amazingly accurate clock in my head hit 3, I began the startup process. “3...2...1...SNAP!”

All was nothing for a moment, then white flashed into existence and streams of color raced by. Suddenly, a horrible wrenching began in my gut, and all was nothing again.

That was when I left Earth.

The first thing I felt was pain. And when I say pain, I mean horrible, unrelenting agony that would normally accompany being riddled with bullets, blown up by dynamite thirteen times, and being run through with a sword all at once. Thirty four times in a row. With nerves running at ten times capacity and sensitivity. I will neither confirm nor deny I screamed like a little girl during that time. After what seemed like untold aeons, the pain finally faded away, and I was able to open my eyes. The first thing I noticed that there was no HUD. No health bar, no mana meter, no quickbar... nothing. The second thing I noticed was that I was in a burning laboratory, with men shouting in a strange language, running around, and generally panicking. In a moment of absurdity, I thought Wow. These guys have obviously never read the Hitchhiker's Guide. There was wrecked equipment everywhere-reminescent of my room, actually-and what appeared to have once been sterile white walls were now charred black and grey. A big, strong man picked me up and rushed me out of the lab, out into a hallway. We took quite a dizzying array of twists, turns, and loops that I'm not able to remember what exactly the hallway looked like.

The Hulk-I'm calling him that, since he was that massive-rushed me into a lab, one that wasn't burninating. A harried-looking, greying man in a coat stood their, then attached a strange device to my head. “Can you understand me?”

I nodded dumbly.

“You are part of an experiment to abduct sentients from other planes to learn about their cultures, and add the information to our database. After we are done with our information gathering, we would release you to your home plane, but since you are our first experiment, the equipment had not been properly tested, and now the technology is rendered inoperable. Now, what is your name?”

I wasn't thinking about how this was completely impossible. I wasn't thinking about this had to be some crazy, in-game introduction. I knew in my heart that I was really on another world. What I was thinking about, however, was that I was angry. Very, very angry. How DARE these [bleeping] [bleeps] kidnap me! I was going to escape ASAP, but I didn't want to make the Hulk angry. I had I feeling that I wouldn't like him when he was angry. So, I complied. For now, at least.

“Analise Rodhire. May I ask a question?”

The old man looked at me dubiously-I think I'm going to call him Evil Gandalf-and said flatly “Yes.”

“What is the name of your organization?”

“The Technic League. Now, is your planet capable of interplanetary travel?”

“We're on the brink of it. What is your position within the Technic League?”

At the second question, Evil Gandalf looked slightly annoyed. “Prime Scientist. Does your plane have magic?”

Now this question surprised me. Did this place seriously have magic?!? I tried to retain my composure, and cooly answered. “No. Does your plane have magic?”

“Yes. In fact, I am led to believe that our technological advances our stymied due to intense reliance on it. Now, on to the next question.”

The drilling continued to for hours. I gained information about his world-called Golarion- exchanged for information about mine. Apparently, I was in a country called Numeria, a land of deep contrasts. Due to a starship that fell here long ago, Numeria was extremely advanced compared to the rest of Golarion. Howver, the Technic League tightly controlled the flow of the tech, and so a lot of the place was relatively primitive. Finally, Evil Gandalf said “That was satisfactory. Targon, restrain Analise and take her into the experimentation rooms. I want to see the genetic variances between humans of this plane and hers.”

The Hulk advanced menacingly upon me, and picked me up like a baby. I struggled, squelead, and again, I will neither confirm nor deny I screamed. I was hyperaware when he took me out of the room, looking around at my surroundings. I was in a hall made out of metal, kept scrupulously clean, with blinking lights everywhere. Then, I noticed that the Hulk was... clanking, for lack of a better word. He was a robot. He was a [bleeping] robot. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I started laughing hysterically. A [bleeping] robot. There seemed to be an access panel in his back. I then had an absurd idea. Something that would very likely get me killed. I tried to get to it, but the panel was just barely too far away. Then, I sort of... reached.

It was as if some door in my unconscious was thrown open, and a massive well of energy was in there, just waiting to be used. Somehow, I knew-barely-how to use it, and slowly, excruciatingly, I used the strange telekinetic force I had summoned slide open the access panel and cut wires. It’s “nervous system” went down, I squirmed away, and ran like the wind.

I scurried away through the twisting and turning hallways. Distantly, there was the sound of something exploding, then yelling. The place was a veritable labyrinth, and I had no doubt that would find me before long. Desperate, I made a few turns... then found myself at an apparent back door. I heard metallic clanking behind me that reminded me waaay too much of Cybermen from Doctor Who. I ran at full tilt-surprisingly fast, given my rather chubby frame-threw open the door, and pressed a random combination of buttons that happened to lock the door.

From there, everything was a blur. I had absolutely NO idea how I managed to outrun the Cybermen-was it my imagination, or was I hearing “DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.”?-but I eventually managed to run far away enough-well, more like wobble-to find a small grove of oak trees. Twisted, mutant oak trees who looked like they wanted to eat me, but it was getting dark, and I was willing to hide anywhere.

I wobbled (yeah, in my early days in Golarion constituted of wobbling, thank the gods that casting spells burns a lot more calories than you think) into it, and promptly collapsed.

When I awoke, I was distinctly aware of what appeared to be a living tumbleweed on my chest, sucking out my blood. Screaming-okay, I admit it, I screamed-I drew upon that power again and blasted the damn thing with something that looked like it came out of a flamethrower. Perhaps due to my panic, the spell was extremely effective, and it was incinerated the damn thing. Will the horrors never cease?

I meandered my way through the countryside for the next few weeks, incinerating any who dare come near me. Okay, so maybe it took all of my castings for the day sometimes, but it proved generally effective. As I learned at Torch when I got there, I was, quite simply put, absurdly lucky while I was traveling through the Hills. Wrong turn there, a couple steps over that way, and I would’ve fallen play to numerous mutants, bloodthirsty Sunder Horns, and hungry mutants. Really, the only thing I did of note was to scream like a little girl when a cute-ish junkyard robot lumbered at me. It probably didn’t even want to hurt me, although I turned on the heat anyways. I sprayed fire at it for a solid forty seconds. It was a pile of molten slag by the time I got through with it.

So, I eventually wandered into the plains, where I found Torch. A small-time local wizard helped train me there. Eventually, the fire went out. Bad, bad, very bad, badbadbadbadbadbadbad news. For some reason, I could smell the League all over it. The scent of evil: machine grease, burning, and Numerian fluids. So, I decided I might as well help out with my newly honed powers.

That was a mistake.

A big one.

More like a Godzilla-sized one.

That’s when everything went cuckoo.

That beautiful, terrible, wonderful, tear-jerking day.

Every detail is clear to me even now. The beige walls of my bedroom, the scattered technological gear, the massive, homemade computer on my desk that operated faster than any gaming pro's, the pizza boxes strewn across my shag carpet. The sounds of Brad and Kenny bickering downstairs-most likely their morning routine bickering and &!7$jng about the sides of their room... and oh, yes, ohhhhh yes, that heavenly smell of pancakes! Due to my late night partying, I was barely coherent enough to open my eyes, but the seductive smell wafted into my nostrils, tugging me downstairs.

After lumbering downstairs-nearly falling two times (thank all of the gods everywhere that the wooden stairs had rails)-I sagged into my beat up, badly-needing-reupholtering stuffed chair, groaning. “Fooooood,” I moaned, looking miserable.

Mom looked down at me, exasperated. “I'm guessing you were partying again, judging by the rings under your eyes. Thank the gods your responsible enough to know not to do drugs or drink alchohol, Analise. Anyways, I made pancakes.”

I nodded in gratitude, and I wolfed down a massive stack of the things in 49.12 seconds. I staggered up from the chair and tumbled my way over to the threadbare couch, letting my brain cells atrophy by staring at the TV for a while. After enough express to kill a person of lesser coffee-swilling skills, my tired brain finally remembered it was Launch Day. I burst out of the couch and ran up the stairs with a sound that would've been described in Saturday-morning cartoons as binka-binka-binka.

Bursting through my room door-nearly slipping on three pizza boxes, accidentally spying my portly physique in the mirror that I keep putting off taking down, and crash into my bed, snagging the Riftgear laying on my charred desk, and pulled the bulky helmet on. I had arrived 61.85 seconds before the game went online.

The time slowly went down. As soon as the amazingly accurate clock in my head hit 3, I began the startup process. “3...2...1...SNAP!”

All was nothing for a moment, then white flashed into existence and streams of color raced by. Suddenly, a horrible wrenching began in my gut, and all was nothing again.

That was when I left Earth.

The first thing I felt was pain. And when I say pain, I mean horrible, unrelenting agony that would normally accompany being riddled with bullets, blown up by dynamite thirteen times, and being run through with a sword all at once. Thirty four times in a row. With nerves running at ten times capacity and sensitivity. I will neither confirm nor deny I screamed like a little girl during that time. After what seemed like untold aeons, the pain finally faded away, and I was able to open my eyes. The first thing I noticed that there was no HUD. No health bar, no mana meter, no quickbar... nothing. The second thing I noticed was that I was in a burning laboratory, with men shouting in a strange language, running around, and generally panicking. In a moment of absurdity, I thought Wow. These guys have obviously never read the Hitchhiker's Guide. There was wrecked equipment everywhere-reminescent of my room, actually-and what appeared to have once been sterile white walls were now charred black and grey. A big, strong man picked me up and rushed me out of the lab, out into a hallway. We took quite a dizzying array of twists, turns, and loops that I'm not able to remember what exactly the hallway looked like.

The Hulk-I'm calling him that, since he was that massive-rushed me into a lab, one that wasn't burninating. A harried-looking, greying man in a coat stood their, then attached a strange device to my head. “Can you understand me?”

I nodded dumbly.

“You are part of an experiment to abduct sentients from other planes to learn about their cultures, and add the information to our database. After we are done with our information gathering, we would release you to your home plane, but we don't have the planar coordinates, or the ability to get those coordinates with our current technology. Now, what is your name?”

I wasn't thinking about how this was completely impossible. I wasn't thinking about this had to be some crazy, in-game introduction. I knew in my heart that I was really on another world. What I was thinking about, however, was that I was angry. Very, very angry. How DARE these [bleeping] [bleeps] kidnap me! I was going to escape ASAP, but I didn't want to make the Hulk angry. I had I feeling that I wouldn't like him when he was angry. So, I complied. For now, at least.

“Analise Rodhire. May I ask a question?”

The old man looked at me dubiously-I think I'm going to call him Evil Gandalf-and said flatly “Yes.”

“What is the name of your organization?”

“The Technic League. Now, is your planet capable of interplanetary travel?”

“We're on the brink of it. What is your position within the Technic League?”

At the second question, Evil Gandalf looked slightly annoyed. “Prime Scientist. Does your plane have magic?”

Now this question surprised me. Did this place seriously have magic?!? I tried to retain my composure, and cooly answered. “No. Does your plane have magic?”

“Yes. In fact, I am led to believe that our technological advances our stymied due to intense reliance on it. Now, on to the next question.”

The drilling continued to for hours. I gained information about his world-called Golarion- exchanged for information about mine. Apparently, I was in a country called Numeria, a land of deep contrasts. Due to a starship that fell here long ago, Numeria was extremely advanced compared to the rest of Golarion. Howver, the Technic League tightly controlled the flow of the tech, and so a lot of the place was relatively primitive. Finally, Evil Gandalf said “That was satisfactory. Targon, restrain Analise and take her into the experimentation rooms. I want to see the genetic variances between humans of this plane and hers.”

The Hulk advanced menacingly upon me, and picked me up like a baby. I struggled, squelead, and again, I will neither confirm nor deny I screamed. When he took me out out of the room, I got very angry. And I also hulked out. I felt like something was rolled aside in my mind, and there was a massive pool of power there, just waiting to be used. I touched it.... and I grew.

I don't remember much of what happened after that. I escaped the Hulk's clutches, and fled, running through the twisted hallways, and finally escaping to the wilderness. After a while, I shrunk, and I arrived at a pool of water. Astoundingly, I had lost two hundred pounds. Now that that stage is past me, yes, I will admit it: I weighed three hundred pounds. I guess the interplanar travel did something to my body, because now, I was beautiful.

I drank from the pool, and then wandered around, eventually finding the town of Torch. I spent about a year there, learning how to better control my-dare I say it? Yes, I do-magic there, and learning proper Taldane without relying upon the translation device. However, the fires of revenge burned hotly inside of me, and I lusted for revenge against the Technic League. (Yes, I know, that was a bit melodramatic.) I trained with sword and spell, learning how to fuse both as a weapon against the League.

I was out of town, properly exploring Numeria, when news reached me that Torch's fire went out. I immediately smelled Technic League. Most likely, one of their experiments went wrong (as they often do) and it somehow extinguished the flame. Rushing back to Torch, I was eager to get revenge on the jerks...

And that's when everything spiraled out of control.

That’s how old the children were when they were taken.

Old enough to have awareness, young enough to not know what to do with it. Old enough to understand what was said, yet young enough to have nearly boundless energy. The children were like fresh, wet clay. The centurions would have a long time to shape them into the perfect soldiers.

The normally bustling city of Kuros was quiet and subdued on the first of every June. The Culling swept through the city on that day, picking up the most obedient, intelligent, and strong of the children, and tossing aside the remains like bent bronze. Girl or boy, it did not matter. Despite the stereotypes, they made equally good soldiers.

Even though it was over fifteen years since that day, Aelia still remembered her Culling vividly. The bright, shining centurions lining the silent children up, inspecting them, checking or crossing their names off of their parchments. Finally, they came to her. “Name.”

“Aelia Rodhire, sir.”

“Parent’s occupations.”

“My mother and father are both legionnaires, sir. Retired, sir.”

“Stand firm.” The centurion pushed Aelia, landing his open palm on her chest. She instinctively shifted into a wide stance, and the young girl barely swayed.

“Satisfactory. Next!”

They started marching ten minutes after Aelia’s test. Most of the children remained. Aelia and five others followed the centurions. They strode through the city in a uniform march, not saying a word. All of them knew that the rest of the children were safe at home, their parents crying tears of relief over their safety. But that was not their fate. The purpose of the Culling was to find children to shape, to mold, into the perfect soldiers. People looked up at them with aspiration and fear. They were to become Spartans.

The barracks were placed just outside Kuros. The area all around the encampment was churned mud, and the sound of shouting and metal clanging against metal resounded throughout it. The centurions led the children through it, and they looked at it all with wonder and awe. They finally reached the center, where a small space has been cleared for them. The centurions instructed them to sit down, and then one stepped up. “I am Prime Centurion Darius, of the 65th legion,” he began. “You are new recruits. But before we start, I will tell you an old legion legend.” Darius turned and gestured at the distant mountains. “It is said that, soon after Attica was founded, invaders from beyond the mountains decided to strike at the foundling Attica and plunder our land. Attica had only trained three hundred elite warriors at this time. It seemed that Attica would die before it had even begun to flourish. But the three hundred warriors marched beyond the mountains, and guarded the only pass through. Day after day, night after night, the enemy hurled themselves against the tiny army. Again and again, the warriors prevailed. This went on for some time. Finally, the invaders were repelled. Our army and their army were completely decimated-there were no survivors left. Three hundred versus two thousand, and yet we, in a way, prevailed. In the old tongue, spartan meant ‘unbreakable.’ That’s what we will train you to be: unbreakable.”

After that, all was a blur. The next clear memory Aelia had was her first training match against Taron, her warband’s leader. She was ten at the time. They faced each other, clad in full combat gear. Then, Taron charged. His form was excellent. Taron leaned forward as he charged, keeping his shield tucked to his side. Taron’s sword was crossed across his chest as to completely guard himself. Aelia readied her shield, waiting for the exact right moment. Right when Taron was about to release all of his momentum at her shield, the moment when he was unbalanced, Aelia pushed mightily with her shield, sending him stumbling back across the arena. The young girl quickly followed him and ruthlessly followed up with an underhand jab at his abdomen. The sunlight glinted on the bronze of the dulled sword as it thudded into Taron’s stomach, sending him sprawling. Aelia coolly sheathed her sword, stowed her shield, and offered a hand to help her leader back up-which he accepted.

The years flash by again, and Aelia’s next memory was of her first battle. Their long-time enemies from beyond the mountains had started up hostilities again, and were starting skirmishes to test their defenses. Attica was more than happy to oblige.
A seemingly endless day of marching culminated in a night of blood and bone, of sinew and steel, of muscle and mayhem. Aelia had sustained minimal injuries, nothing but a broken rib and a stomach gash. But there were many more days like that to come.

After what seemed like a never-ending cycle of destruction, the hostilities stopped. The enemy was beaten back, and Aelia was assigned to guard a small town as a reward while her legion was not needed. All was calm. At least for now…

Str: 20 (22 with aegis)
Dex: 10
Con: 12
Int: 13
Wis: 16
Cha: 10

OFFENSE
two-handed mind blade +12 (4d6+10

Str: 14
Dex: 21 (22 with belt of incredible dexterity +1)
Con: 14
Int: 10
Cha: 9
Wis: 10

OFFENSE
Ranged: dagger +11 (1d4)
Melee: +1 kama +12 (1d6+6)
Flurry of blows full attack +1/+1 kamas +11/+11/+11 (1d6+6)

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn my inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

They were packed like logs. Commodities, nothing more. A quarter of them starved to death. Another half wasted away from debilitating sickness. Eoko reminded herself why she had to endure this torment for the fourteenth time…

The sisters sat around the communal fire in the temple. Lights flickered above, and Eoko could feel the power of the Gate whisper through her qi . The order-no more than 13 catfolk-sat in complete silence, until the matria spoke. “Eoko is ready.” This did not come as a shock. The Gatekeepers trained hard and rigorously, and Eoko was the most worthy of them all. “I have been… informed that there is a Gate beyond the sands.” This, however, did come as a shock. A gasp swept through the order. Only Eoko kept quiet. “This Gate is unlike any other. It leads to a place of great evil. An order-much like ours-guards it, communes with it, and tries to learn its secrets.” The matria turned to Eoko. “Watch these ‘hellknights,’ this ‘Order of the Gate.’ They have great potential-and so does their Gate. For now, simply place yourself in their order. Watch them, subtly guide them. While the Gates we watch-Light and Dark; Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire; and all that lay in between-have power, Hell is a place mortal souls gather and shaped. Its power is strange. Your Watch will be difficult. And so will the journey.”

For the first time in her life, Eoko set foot outside the sands of Thuvia, and traveled into Rahadoum. She allowed herself to be captured as a slave, most likely for a harem, and then she waited out the long journey. The young catfolk was one of the ten slaves to emerge from the bowels of the Red Devil slave ship, and the only one that was healthy. A hellknight, present at the auction, took note of this. He watched Eoko work all hours of the day and night hardly breaking a sweat-thankfully, she wasn’t bought for a harem-and then, quietly, he bought her off of Eoko’s owner. The hellknight took Eoko to Citadel Enferac, where she undertook her training. Now Eoko awaits her final test…

Str: 14
Dex: 21 (22 with belt of incredible dexterity +1)
Con: 14
Int: 10
Cha: 9
Wis: 10

OFFENSE
Ranged: dagger +11 (1d4/x2)
Melee: +1 shortsword +13 (1d6+5/19-20)
w/Power Attack shortsword +11 (1d6+7/19-20)
full attack +1/+1 shortswords +12/+12 (1d6+6/19-20)
w/Power Attack +1/+1 shortswords +10/+10 (1d6+8/19-20)

Then, by chance, I found the Red Feather gang. Somehow, I convinced them to let me in. I was their key to success, I threw around some good ol' fashioned hellfire and unholy lightning, and the little guys started pissing in their pants. Half of the time, they didn't even need to draw weapons. I, of course, demanded only some of the loot that interested me: bindings, stuff on Hell, anything that I could learn about that could help me find the Crown... Only some of my books got spared from the burning of my home, but it was enough. I even eventually convinced the gang to take captive a certain Asmodean priest. Again, the little hellfire trick convinced him to do the binding for me.

Then, bam! Somehow they found me, in the middle of the ritual. The inquisitors of Mitra locked down the binding circle like it was a child's chalk drawing, and then they proceeded to slaughter the rest of the gang. Just. Like. That. But, they had to make an example out of all of us. So four others and I-most likely the most dangerous out of all of the motley crew-were rounded up, branded, and sent to Branderscar. The mark of Forsaken burns with hatred on my shoulder even as I think. I will not die here. I WILL get my revenge. And I WILL find the crown.