Hi folks,
I'm working on a background story and character concept for a new campaign; Council of Thieves. Given the setting I'm tempted to go with a paladin. However I'd like to give this character a different spin and go for older (51) and more cynic paladin who is likely to spend a lot of money in Atonement scrolls as time goes by.
Below is my intro for other players. Haven't played Pathfinder before so if you've got any ideas, thoughts or suggestions what would be cool to throw in the mix, I'd love to hear 'em.
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Council of Thieves, Prologue – The Paladin
One week ago; Westcrown.
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The torch drops down and goes out with a quiet sizzle. An old warrior starts to climb up rusted metal ladder, leaving the sewers below him. It’s almost pitch black, just a glimmer of night sky is visible from above.
“Damn. Is it night already?” he swears silently when he makes it to the street level. The streets of Westcrown are lethal during night. Shadow beasts roam the city and only a few of the main roads are lit. They are patrolled by Hellknights, which right now could prove to be as fatal as the beasts.
Taking care not to make a sound the warrior climbs up and hides in the shadows. Concentrating for a moment he can sense the patrols moving nearby. A sound of footsteps alerts him and then quickly he vanishes to the small alleys.
As he’s walking closer to the inn he pulls off his cloak and wraps a great sword he’s been carrying into a bundle. Then he notices another figure walking brisk walk of the drunk. Closer to the door the figure turns out to be a young man mid twenties with pitch-black hair.
At the door the two collide and the young man snaps angrily “Watch it, old man.” Only then he notices the scale mail, which the old warrior wears and takes a step back. He grins with mockery in his smile “Well, I’ll let that slide. Age before beauty and all that, you know?” opening the door to the older warrior.
Grunting Sir Gregor of Baradin walks by and heads toward his favorite spot next to the fireplace in an inn he’s started to think as his home. The young man follows, joining his friends and making a joke, which is too loud to be polite.
The tired paladin sit by the fire in his scale mail, a worn dented armor that has served him well. His clothes are stained with dust from the road. On a small table besides him lies a great sword which is every bit as old and dented as his armor. A single word “Eálion” is inscribed into the blade.
“Old, useless, and worn. Just like its wielder.” Gregor glances at the sword. His hair is brown like the road, but now white mars his sides; A big and bulky, weary looking man, trying to avoid attention.
The paladin leans toward the fire, flames almost licking his fingers and shudders. Inside him is a chill that never ceases. It’s been two years since the campaign to White Throne. Two years since he made his way back through the mountains. Six days and nights he had camped in the snow, plagued by the winds and merciless cold. Whether it is fear of failure or something caused by those endless nights he does not know. But inside him is a coldness, which seems ever present.
Door of the inn opens with a thud. This late in the evening there are few customers in the main hall of the inn. The Hellknights walk in and all eyes turn toward them. Clad in black plate mail seven knights enter the inn. As they enter the paladin leans back in his chair fading to the background.
“We’re looking for a criminal!” the Paralictor proclaims to the innkeeper. “A man little over six feet was seen coming from the caves.” According to the law anyone exploring the caves must be punished. ‘As above, so below’- the estates belong to the nobles as does air above and the ground below. Anyone exploring is trespassing on private property and we all know how the nobles of Chelix guard their privacy - with vigor. The trespasser will be found and punished. “Who is the last one to enter your premises, innkeeper?”
The sullen innkeeper simply points a finger. One of the patrons, the young man with dark hair, turns to look at the knights and quickly averts his eyes. Smiling the first knight approaches him.
“Well, boys. It looks like we have our man. Stand up, you filth, and I wager you’re a little over six feet tall!” There’s panic in the young mans voice as he obeys and begs “I’ve done nothing wrong, sir! Absolutely nothing! I was with me friends, all night and that’s the truth of it.”
The knight glances at the innkeeper who barely shakes his head. “Well lad. That’s mighty unfortunate with you being seen to exit the sewers leading to the caverns and just coming to this very inn.” The knight turns toward others. “Tell me, Armiger, what’s the punishment for breaking into the caves that are on noble’s land?”
“The law is clear. And death is the only punishment that is acceptable.” younger Hellknight answers. The accused man is now breaking down in tears. “But that’s a lie! I’ve been no-where close to the caves or sewers! Please! I beg you. I’ve been here all night, I promise you!”
An older hell knight, wearing the stripes of a Vicarius, joins the discussion. “The law is clear, but we have no proof. You need to let this man go.” The Paralictor stops, surprised that one of his own would stand up against him. Then he continues nodding towards the Vicarius “Very well. You’re right of course. We need more evidence to command a death sentence. Men! Take him to citadel Rivat for further questioning.” Two of the hell knights grab the unfortunate young man, but the Paralictor is not done yet.
“But this rabble often mistakes our kindness for softness. That we cannot have. For that would lead to chaos!” he almost spats the last words “And it is our duty to protect the good citizens of Westcrown from such a fate. You all heard his words! For lying to a Hellknight I want his tongue cut to avoid repeating such a disgrace!”
"..to be commuted until the end of his stay at castle Rivat, sir?' asks the older hell knight dryly.
"Why yes - of course! Good thinking there. I know the Questors can squeeze blood out of stone, but no need to make the work more difficult." The Vicarius looks at the other hell knights who nod in approval. The screams of the young man fade slowly away as the knights leave the inn.
Sitting in the corner of the inn the old paladin looks at his hands. They’re shaking. Old mans hands. “Iomedae protect them.” he whispers. There was a time he would have grabbed his great sword without thinking. There was a time when even behind the enemy lines he would have stood up against overwhelming odds. But that time is past; his mission too important. Now he must survive and live to complete his mission.
On his back of his right hand is a faded a tattoo of a long sword before the sun. Swearing under his breath the paladin takes a worn leather ribbon with faded intricate symbols and wraps it around his hand to hide the tattoo…
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As part of the background setting for the character I told our DM that Gregan's lost wife & son to slavers two years back. He's been searching them ever since and in the campaign start he's recently arrived to Westcrown and looking for clues in the caverns below the city. Our DM's initial reaction was "I can work with that" so I guess that's a go.
Any ideas welcome!
Ps. This may be obvious, but please don't post spoilers about CoT! :)
Well done. I am running this for my group and I have to warn you it is very hard on Pall O Dines in this AP. If you travelled to this town from another country then your likeness and description would be semi handy for the Dottari to get. Coming into town all clergy of differing faiths are encouraged to visit the local Dottari office and register. If you are not registered and you are caught trying to convert others"Very loose definitions apply" you will have fines and maybe jail or stocks time. This is how I run my Westcrown. Your DM will do it as he or she sees fit.
Well done. I am running this for my group and I have to warn you it is very hard on Pall O Dines in this AP. If you travelled to this town from another country then your likeness and description would be semi handy for the Dottari to get. Coming into town all clergy of differing faiths are encouraged to visit the local Dottari office and register. If you are not registered and you are caught trying to convert others"Very loose definitions apply" you will have fines and maybe jail or stocks time. This is how I run my Westcrown. Your DM will do it as he or she sees fit.
Well I kind of like the challenge. I'm thinking to treat this as a war zone for the character. He is a native of Lastwall who's been on campaign in the north. Then something drastic happened which forced him to leave mid-campaign and return to south to look for answers in Westcrown.
As he enters the city he considers this to be an enemy territory, sort of "behind the lines". He is not LawfulStupid, and thus will take care to hide his faith, profession, alignment etc. as well as possible. What ever is compelling him to do this will become apparent to the other players later in the AP. So converting others probably won't be an issue.
And yes, I could see him needing a few Atonement scrolls in the near future. :)
Good luck to you and your character. You 2 will need a lot of it. Iomadaes blessings be with your party as well. Have fun storming the castle.
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Good luck to you and your character. You 2 will need a lot of it. Iomadaes blessings be with your party as well. Have fun storming the castle.
Thanks man. Looking forward to it. Here is more story related to the background. Figure I'll start to give these to other players as the sessions progress.
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Council of Thieves – The Paladin
Three years ago; Last Wall.
The room is dark, lit by a single candle. It’s a small room, a workshop with personal belongings. It’s early in the morning and sun is yet to rise. Sir Gregor of Baradin lifts the breastplate with care. Then, struggling a little while doing it, he fastens the clasps on both sides. It’s harder without help, but the last thing he wants to do is wake up anyone.
The platemail is a beautiful thing. A sun blazing behind a long sword has been skillfully imprinted in the front. He reaches out for a white cloak and fixes it over the mail. Then he lifts a white leather necklace over his head. The white ribbon of the necklace is inscribed with intricate golden symbols and a silver sigil of Last Wall.
Behind him the door opens and a woman stands in the doorway. Gregor spins around facing the silhouette of his wife. While years have taken their toll, Lilah is still dazzling, twice so much when she’s angry the old paladin thinks. Her hair is so dark that in this light it looks like blue shades would color it. Her eyes shadowy, yet the sparks are still there.
“You weren’t going to wake us.” It’s almost a question, but not quite. “You think you can just ride into your wars and leave me and Micah alone?” Her voice is quiet, yet furious.
“Of course I’d wake you up, my love. I just wanted to see that it’s all there and make sure I’ve got everything in order before bothering your sleep.” The paladin answers gathering his things.
His wife walks closer, deftly smoothing the cloth of the cloak. “Tell me. What is it this time?”
“Brandon rode in during the night. They need us in White Throne.”
“Stay. Don’t go to the north, I beg you! Please stay, beloved. You could speak with Alistar; he’d understand! Micah needs you here. I need you here.”
The paladin reaches out and gently touches her hair letting his fingers slide through the dark locks. “This is the last campaign, my love. I promise. We’ll be back before you notice. I promise we’ll be back at Last Wall before the first snow.”
Now angry Lilah pushes away his hand. “How many times has it been ‘just one last campaign’? You promised the last time! Molthun, Isger, Ustalav, Mendev… Do you want me to go on?”
“Dammit woman! You married an oath sworn Templar! You know what it means. Our would you rather have me as an oath breaker?”
Her voice is furious as she responds, “I’d have you alive. I’d have a father for Micah, not a tombstone and a legend to tell him. I’d have a husband to grow old with...” Her voice breaks down. She turns her head away from the paladin clad in full platemail and candlelight glimmers on the tears falling down her cheeks.
“Haven’t you served her enough? Will it ever be enough?” She asks quietly. And her voice loses all anger as she points to the holy symbol of Iomedae inscribed to the breastplate.
“I’ll be back before the first snow. I promise. “
Well written but this guy sounds more developed than 4th level?