Trichotome's Player Journals - Hell's Vengeance

[Trichotome]

24/01/19 - Session 66 - The Crown’s Contingency
Fireday, 18th Kuthona, Egorian, The Heartlands
Participants: Queen Abrogail II

Though we do not acknowledge it openly, we find ourselves in a dire predicament. One that requires measures we have thus far avoided, but that can no longer be neglected.

In but a few short months, enemies and incompetent fools have repeatedly tried our patience. Dissident zealots have ravaged our nation over a paltry magic blade, an unpleasant relation bungled his exile so extraordinarily that it cost us an entire Archduchy, and those sycophants of the Church of Asmodeus openly attempted to subvert our authority. Alone, each of these problems could be addressed with little cause for concern. For them to all happen simultaneously is either misfortune of the highest order, or a conspiracy so grand that it surpasses the means of even our greatest competitors. We suspect that our Infernal benefactors have a hand in these machinations, but this, we cannot prove. Naturally, our own aides remain stoic when presented with the notion.

Though we find ourselves inconvenienced, we are nevertheless far from incapable of addressing the issue. The loss of Ravounel by means of the Kintargo Contract was disappointing to say the least, but it did present an intriguing opportunity. The contract defines a manner in which an individual can secure a stronghold which cannot be infringed upon by anyone that wishes to continue to receive the support of Hell. This impedes us as a nation, as we cannot directly interfere with Ravounel without nullifying our Infernal Contract. For us personally however, it can serve as a template for a similar contingency. As our great-grandmother once secured herself a backdoor to escape, should she find herself betrayed, we might do so ourselves. The difference is that we can iterate and improve upon our ancestor’s legacy. It would not be the first time that we have done so. Abrogail I damned herself and her family, but we damned the nation. The Kintargo Contract is flawed, in that it offers little means for the exiled in question to retake Cheliax thereafter. We will ensure that if the time comes, such a feat is not only possible, but assured.

Conveniently, the Glorious Reclamation insurrectionists provided us with the second ingredient for this project. When we offered the soul of Cheliax to Lord Asmodeus, our definition was very carefully worded. Key technicalities ensured that Westcrown would be permitted a certain degree of freedom from Infernal influence. At the time, this was owing to limitations relating to its dedication to Aroden. Though deceased, the god and his successor held enough sway to make Westcrown’s damnation a challenging prospect. We were content to let the city rot in obscurity until such a time that we could find a purpose for it. Unbeknownst to the Reclamation, they gave us just that. Their seizure of the territory within Cheliax’s borders broke the tenuous balance of power over that forsaken city, giving us legitimate means to seize and reconsecrate it. The documents we had Temoni retrieve confirmed as much.

When we called upon the contract devil Odexidie, the very same architect of great-grandmother’s gambit, he seemed amused, but not surprised, by our proposal. Evidently Hell recognised the situation just as we had. Even more interesting was the intercession of a third party, an apostate devil named Vipostix. We recognised this to be the one to which Dominus Fex was bound. His offer of support was well worth the comparatively meagre cost he requested. We would have little use for the upstart Cansellarion or the Iomedaean artefact.

In accordance with our agreement, the drafting of the Westcrown Contract will commence, and will be completed pending a few key tasks.

First, the siege on Citadel Rivad would be lifted. This is not a stipulation of the contract, but rather a tactical choice to simplify future tasks. Our informants confirmed that the crusaders foolishly dedicated the bulk their military strength to this endeavour, meaning a well placed strike would devastate our enemy’s numbers while indebting the Hellknights of the Rack to us. The tathlum our agents have recently procured for us will serve as a useful tool for this purpose.

Second, our agents will perform the necessary rituals to rededicate Westcrown to Asmodeus, setting the groundwork for the contract’s stipulations, and guaranteeing the city a steady influx of Infernal forces to support its seizure in our name.

Third, eliminate the Glorious Reclamation, and secure Heart’s Edge and Alexeara Cansellarion, living soul and mind intact. Once secured, the weapon and woman may be left in the care of Dominus Fex, as Vipostix’s intermediary. May whatever horrors they inflict upon her reflect the punishment she deserves at our hand for the trouble she has caused.

Once these tasks are complete, we shall see to it that Westcrown’s power structure is rebuilt in accordance with our needs, and populated by those we know to be trustworthy. To that end, we shall begin with the bound agents we have sent to complete these labours.

When we sent Paraduke Temoni Kennari to assist our agents at Citadel Dinyar, we thought little of it. That choice has returned dividends, as he is a better field agent than anticipated. He has served our family diligently since the time of my great-grandmother, and we believe him to hold a long standing unrequited love for her. We suspect that same feeling has extended to us, as he sometimes fails to recognise the difference between ancestor and descendant. That sentimentality blinds him at times, but does ensure that his loyalty is unimpeachable. Despite his attachment, his judgement is sound and his skills ample, and we will not deny a certain comfort in the familiarity. We need merely recognise him for his worth, and he shall do what we require.

Archpriest Dexsius Oscellus, by Temoni’s account, is a capable and ambitious priest. We know from his records within the Church of Asmodeus that he has often been denied positions of higher power, owing in no small part to his Infernal taint. His actions to denounce Luthon Malix in our court, in direct defiance of the Grand High Priestess, suggest that he may well be a useful means to redefine the Church of Asmodeus. The religious authority of Egorian has long used Westcrown to exile its undesirables. Let our city then become the training ground for a new, more amenable clergy. If Dexsius can recognise the opportunity, then perhaps he is worthy of our patronage.

We did not think it worth our time to consider Ser Quintus Tanessen, but recent events in Ravounel have reframed his potential. The Tanessens are not only a Ravounese family, but one of the houses capable of ratifying a Lord-Mayor in Kintargo. As such, he may yet hold a key to reclaiming our rebel Archduchy. At the very least, he might allow us to subvert the Kintargan branch. Presently, the boy is clearly inept at courtly matters, but with Temoni’s instruction, he may yet prove a useful asset. The boldness with which the boy made the request to retain his noble title, awkward as it was, showed some promise at least.

Having now met with the voice of his “Divine Order”, Archbaron Dominus Fex’s nature has become abundantly clear to us. We commend Vipostix for his work; we have not encountered a mind so thoroughly twisted in its fundamental understanding of the world. Temoni asserted that Dominus views me as the rightful claimant to the mandate of Hell on Golarion, which assures his complete loyalty, contingent on us not losing that mandate. We recognise therefore that he is to be treated, first and foremost, as an agent of Vipostix. For now, that is sufficient to make use of him, but it remains to be seen if that is an alliance that can endure. We shall take precautionary measures nonetheless, though in truth the puppet is little more than a psychotic brute masquerading as a sophisticate. He is easy to subvert when one understands this. His patron is the far greater threat.

This leaves the last and greatest variable among our bound agents. Arcatraz, daughter of Athervox, and her entourage are an unexpected ally. Naturally, our nation’s previous conflicts with her mother and grandfather lead us to be sceptical of her intentions, and her irreverence makes clear that she does not view her role as subservient. However, she has shown no trace of deceit, save her modifications to the tathlum ritual, which she disclosed and which ultimately served our ends as well as hers. During our briefing of the Westcrown mission, she spoke of spoils. We doubt that greed is her sole motivation, so we have tasked Temoni with investigating further.

The dragon alone is a threat, but her entourage of kobolds are themselves not insignificant. The one they call Kezax is not one to draw attention to himself, quite the contrary in fact, but his cunning and skill were made evident on more than one occasion, as were Zylstra’s. Our understanding is that these agents are unwavering in their support of their mistress, so subverting their loyalty is unlikely. They will need to be accounted for, should the need for action arise. We shall also require our espionage countermeasures to be significantly bolstered. To have our private conversation eavesdropped upon within a secured chamber is simply unacceptable.

While perhaps not ideal in their specifications, these agents have proven on multiple occasions their value to us, and their pledges mean that direct opposition to us is all but impossible. We’ve already gone to great lengths to ensure Temoni’s loyalty. As for the others, we expect that the Paraduke’s guidance and the boons we can offer them will be sufficient.

If not, then so be it. Finding suitable replacements would be tedious, but far from impossible.

24/01/19 - Session 66 - Claims of Caina
Fireday, 18th Kuthona, Caina, Hell
Participants: Vipostix

Mortals are such pitiful creatures. They always seem so sure that they are in control of their own destinies, that their choices are their own. They rarely even stop to consider all of the pieces at play, all the little nudges and influences that truly shift the world one way or another. They are incapable of understanding that they are all pawns, from the lowest peasant to the grandest empress.

In fact, the higher one thinks themselves on the ladder, the more amusing it is when the reality of their fragile little lives comes crashing down.

In spite of his arrogance, or rather, because of it, Vice Barrister Odexidie was an ideal engineer for the chastisement of House Thrune. The impetuous phistophilus has been looking for an excuse to expose his work on the Kintargo Contract for a century. Barzillai’s ridiculous ambitions offered him the perfect opportunity to do so. How inconvenient that this subversion would come at a time when Cheliax was embroiled in another rebellion, and would be unable to respond appropriately. For so many things to happen at a time when Abrogail thought herself at the height of her power… When she thought herself above even Hell itself.

For their kind to think this a coincidence is proof of their utter foolishness. Infernals do not deal in chance. Only the certainty that comes with the predictability of the ignorant. In this, even a Queen is no different than a pauper.

Our design was elegant. A small group of outcasts and deviants, born of Cheliax’s rotting bosom, but shunned by the establishments they cling to. We gave these outcasts gifts, the talents they would need to seize power for themselves, but linked these gifts to service they will not and cannot object to. A little nudge here. A whisper there… The right words in the wrong place. These are all the ingredients needed to create people who will alter the world to suit our needs, be it the “heroes” that will save Cheliax, or the overstepping officials that will fragment it.

Some of you less versed in our mechanisms may be confused by our intentions. I do not begrudge your limited minds. For you, I will keep it simple. It is not our wish for our favoured nation to fall. Rather, we must remind the mortals of their place in our arrangement. House Thrune and the Church have grown so bloated with self-importance that they have forgotten who they serve and where their value lies. Their pride grew excessive, even for our purposes, and so they needed a dose of humility. Barzillai Thrune, Darellus Fex, and Luthon Malix were weeds that grew from such an environment, where arrogance leads one to believe a mortal can know better than us our designs. These were weeds that we cultivated, until they could not be ignored. When faced with a clear and present danger, House Thrune thought themselves capable of trusting such weeds to aid them, as though they were immune to the follies of mortal ambition. In this, they have received an awakening.

This is merely the first step, however. Aware of the problem, our vassals must then be reeducated. They must know where to put their trust. This is when an opportunity must present itself. A solution not previously known, with proof of its success. If Abrogail the First could secure a pocket of safety from those that would stab her in the back, why not the Second? All it would take is the cost of a city.

Westcrown has eluded us for far longer than I care for. I’ve made much of my career on the systematic seizure and corruption of the Inheritor’s “gifts”. The emergence of Heart’s Edge is what brought this conflict into my sphere of interest, after all. When it became known that the leader of the so called “Glorious Reclamation” supposedly receives the words of Iomedae in her ears, that the mortal pretender god would have the AUDACITY to use MY methods to craft a champion?! Cheliax’s bonds to us should make such an incursion impossible, in all save a few places. Those final bastions not yet under the full control of Hell.

The City of Twilight clings to Aroden like an orphaned child clings to a dead parent, unwilling to acknowledge that it seeks comfort in a corpse. It is pathetic, but that desperation does grant his herald some sway. Just enough for Heaven to engineer such a pitiful scheme against us. What they do not realise is that this has given us a wonderful opportunity. Our vassals, alone and desperate, will seize Westcrown, and rededicate this bastion of Man to something more tasteful. We grant our beneficiaries the privilege to give this to us, and in return, we will receive the mortal god’s favoured pawn as well as her blade. We gain a city, a chosen one, an artefact, and the deepened subservience of our vassal, while Heaven loses what little hold it had on our chosen territory.

To think, Abrogail believes it is her idea. Such is the folly of mortals.

GM's Notes: And so we begin book 6! In celebration of this achievement, I did a double entry, showing the perspectives of the party's two benefactors.

The Westcrown Contract is something I cooked up for my interpretation of this campaign. I wanted to give a bit more meaning to the plot to take Westcrown, and leave a bit of room to allow the party (who have already proven in previous books that they're a bit out there to comfortably settle in with the established Egorian court) to have more meaningful roles in the epilogue. I know that Dexsius is gunning for the title of Grand High Priest, but the books don't lend themselves well to that sort of project, so I figured I'd instead find a way to subvert it entirely. Why take over their church when you can build your own?

In any case, from that idea the rest of this kinda just spilled out. I liked the idea of Hell's Rebels (a campaign near and dear to my heart) having a greater impact on Hell's Vengeance, and the Kintargo Contract seemed a great way to build on that. It also gave me something for Abrogail II and Temoni to chat about.

Session 66 was maybe 50% Abrogail exposing her super secret plan to Temoni (and giving him a Robe of the Archmagi for his loyalty) while Kezax eavesdropped with his 50+ stealth and perception. 30% was Archie and the Queen having a sass battle and both of them kinda respecting each other for it. The last 20% was Quintus trying really hard to get acknowledged as the true head of House Tanessen in Cheliax, and then getting a terrible roll in his diplomacy check to ask the Queen about it.

Next time, the party is going to Citadel Rivad, and we resume combat shenanigans. It ought to be fun!

P.S. I feel compelled to point out that the first entry for Book 6 is entry 66. We could not have timed that better, heh.

[Trichotome]

24/01/26 & 24/02/02 - Session 67 & 68 - A Broken Siege
Starday, 19th Kuthona, Citadel Rivad, Longmarch

Prior to embarking on my quest, my experience with the Hellknights was that of a distant admirer of their philosophy. Their commitment to preserving Justice and Order against the unending tides of chaos and heresy is an ideal I’ve always held in high regard. That is to say nothing of my appreciation for the Godclaw’s keen understanding of the greater religious realities that form the Divine Order, a reality few others truly grasp.

It is, therefore, a true sign of my favour and the righteousness of our mission that we’ve found ourselves aiding no less than four of these Orders, two lesser and two greater. Our assistance to the Order of the Pike established the union between these noble hunters and my family’s holdings. Liberating the Order of the Glyph from their watch was instrumental in setting the groundwork for Cheliax’s glorious new future. Though lesser Orders, these contributions were still significant in their own right, and personally gratifying.

Our deeds in service to the greater Orders however, speak to the more fundamental pillars of our struggle against corruption. To retake Citadel Dinyar from the lost sheep was a pivotal step in restoring the proper hierarchy of the faiths, and in doing so purging the false narratives of the Reclamation heretics from the sacred lands of Cheliax. That blow effectively isolated these wayward souls to a single pocket, the city of Westcrown.

The wise choice for the heretics would have been to realise their falsehood and disperse, but in their deluded pride, they instead sought to try their hand at yet another citadel, this time Rivad. In my understanding of the Divine Order, I cannot help but see the symbolism here: if the restoration of the Godclaw represented a spiritual salvation, then the restoration of the Rack shall represent mental salvation. The Reclamation heretics, in all their delusion, must grasp with their minds the futility of their rebellion, and what better way to do that than to eradicate their standing army?

Our arrival in the outskirts of the citadel was marked with overcast skies, a perfect shroud for us to approach unseen and judge our adversary. Paraduke Kennari was gracious enough to supply us with a suitable magic abode to shelter us, while Mister Kezax undertook the valuable task of gathering intelligence on the sieging force.

Mister Kezax’s cunning infiltration is a feat very few could accomplish. The army clearly had some measure of discipline in its methods, and no doubt anticipated our appearance. To sneak in from a supply wagon, distract the sentries with a broken wheel, and then navigate each of the camps… Were it not for the sheer duration of the infiltration and the attentiveness of the more seasoned soldiers, Mister Kezax may well have sabotaged the entire camp by himself! However, to identify the specialities and supplies of each camp and to escape without drawing significant alert was more than impressive enough. It gave us ample information with which to make our next move.

Given the placement of the camps, we chose the deployment location for the tathlum carefully. Our sacred weapon would strike at the heart of the most seasoned and crucial support troops, leaving only the remnants of the inexperienced soldiers and devil hunters to reckon with the aftermath. Given their lack of anti-air defences, the actual deployment could be left to Miss Arcatraz with little concern.

The detonation was a sight to behold! To witness the righteous fury invoked by our ritual unleashed… Never before have I seen such immense concentrated power! Were one not aware of the true source, it would be easy to assume it a smite from the gods themselves. In some capacity, that is not far from the truth, as few can claim to be so closely representative of the Divine Order’s will on this plane. Nevertheless, the bulk of the forces were instantly cleansed. Given the specific blessings bestowed upon the device, I have confidence that their souls have seen sent to Hell for proper rehabilitation. An expedient solution, to be sure! As for the remainder, the spirits of divine retribution that emerged from the tathlum’s fallout made short work assimilating them. Although I recognised these creatures to not be inherently Orderly by nature, the tathlum’s Infernal energies no doubt ensured that these manifestations served the Divine Order in their own right. Thus, they could be safely left to their own devices.

This suited us well, for as the body of the lost lamb lay shorn and butchered, the rest of us attended to the head, that being the command tent perched a distance away from the fighting force.

These leaders of heresy had the foresight to prepare for our arrival upon witnessing the tathlum’s brilliance, but they could not in their foolishness anticipate our strength. Miss Archie’s acid interrupted their dwarven rider, while Mister Kezax severed and stripped the celestial protections of the commander’s sworn shield archon. This granted Father Dexsius the means to attempt something rather ambitious: he would steal the heart of the archon, and use this theft and his most powerful scroll to pledge the creature to Asmodeus. I’ve heard of a similar act once before, in a rather infamous event during the Fifth Mendevian Crusade. In truth, even I did not expect such a thing to be possible by mortal hands, but a soul blessed by the pinnacle representative of the Divine Order and infused with the very fabric of the Infernal can hardly be considered a typical mortal.

So it was that the archon Othiel ascended to a higher being, dedicated to the Divine Order in a manner his fragile soul could never accomplish before. Such a marvellous gift! The other leaders were not so fortunate. The dwarven knight would ride his last in a futile attempt at a charge, and Miss Archie would pluck the commander from the battle entirely, a prisoner for us to interrogate at a later time. The remaining soldiers fell in short order, unable to do more than lash out in desperation at Father Dexsius. Of the three that remained after this folly, two saw the error of their ways and surrendered themselves, while one last fool clung to his delusions. Paraduke Kennari’s summoned erinyes saw to the two seeking salvation, while he personally obliterated the last.

Thus, in one night, we have eliminated all but the final grasping remnants of the Reclamation heresy. We need but complete the ritual to dedicate Westcrown to its true masters and remove the last remaining fragments of pestilence, and then finally, Cheliax may heal in earnest.

But first, we should pay a visit to the Citadel…

GM's Notes: Was it a bit bold for our cleric to request to do "that thing from book 5 of Wrath of the Righteous" to a shield archon? Yes. But, I told him it would take a scroll of Miracle to do it, and sure enough, he was willing to pay that price, so I figured what the Hell. It's book 6, after all.

We had a bit of a pause there because of an industry event (if you know my professional background, you can probably guess), followed by me being very sick for two weeks. But this Friday, we should be able to resume the campaign, and with it, the subjugation of Westcrown will begin...

[Trichotome]

24/04/06 - Session 69 - The Rack Extracted
Starday, 20th Kuthona, Citadel Rivad, Longmarch

Citadel Rivad is undoubtedly an impressive structure befitting the Order that holds it. The Hellknights of the Rack bear the unenviable burden of combatting dissenting thought and belligerence within Avistan. Among their enemies lie not only those who commit heresy, but those that may unknowingly be walking towards that path. As one who understands all too well the fickleness of the mind and the dangerous appeal of curiosity, it is an understandably difficult mandate to maintain. It is for that reason that I’ve always held a great respect for the Order of the Rack, second only perhaps to the Godclaw.

Some might think there is an irony that the new Lictor of the Rack is of the Signifiers, an uncommon occurrence among most Orders. However, this strikes me as an eminently logical approach. Magic can hold immense sway over the thoughts of the unsuspecting, so it is only natural that an Order based on the cleansing of ideas have a profound understanding of that facet. This aside, Lictor Darcyne Wrens comports herself with all of the authority and poise one ought to for such an important role.

Her wisdom was apparent when she welcomed our group to the Citadel readily, swift to secure the captured Knight Commander for further interrogation as she briefed us on the situation in the region. Regrettably, the siege limited what intel they could provide, though Lictor Wrens at least supplied us with the names of those most important foes we must vanquish to eliminate the false power structure in Westcrown.

By the Lictor’s account, the Reclamation’s heretical leader, Alexeara Cansellarion, has surrounded herself with powerful and noteworthy followers. She spoke of the woefully corrupted priestess of Iomedae, Bellinia Dorjana. To think that a descendent of pious royalty would fall so low emphasises the depths of this festering wound in the Divine Order. Another was the dwarven oracle Gardel Vargrinnar. He is an old friend of the Cansellarion family, and thus was likely led astray well before the Reclamation took shape. Vors Kyniar, the Taldan ambassador to Cheliax, was also implicated as a heretic sympathiser, which explains Our Highness’ desire to see him returned to the capital before he might inflict further damage through his diplomatic channels.

The corrupted consisted not only of mortals, however. Aveshiel and Maraya, a planetar and brijidine azata respectively, count among the ranks of the Reclamation heretics. Azatas, being the pests that they are, are an understandable presence among the corrupt, but to hear that such a significant warrior of justice also stood among them was disheartening. For this folly to reach so high into Heaven’s ranks, I can only fathom the depths of the surgery we must complete to remove this infection…

Fortunately, not all of the names spoken were foes. Lictor Wrens provided us with some valuable information regarding potential allies. The High Priest of Asmodeus, Jarvaxus Garestic, was among the first to be proposed. Our Queen also spoke of him, and it would seem Father Dexsius knows of his name as well, so perhaps there is some merit in rescuing this priest. She also indicated that several major houses remain intact in Westcrown to her knowledge, some of which may simply be biding their time to support an initiative against their captors. Last among the list, the Lictor spoke of one of her own, Paralictor Gonville Chard. When last they communicated a few days ago, Taranik House, the Rack base of operations in the city proper, was under assault, and though the Lictor feared the worst, she suspected the Paralictor would be shrewd enough to evade capture and execution. Being an agent within the city, Paralictor Chard may indeed be a valuable source of information on the Reclamation’s workings.

This being said, all of this knowledge paled in comparison to the rumour Lictor Wrens shared with us. A detail that if true, completely alters the nature of this inquisition and my very role in this service of the Divine Order: it is said that Alexeara Cansellarion is spoken to by Iomedae directly.

This rumour bears similarities with one I had previously heard of Queen Galfrey of Mendev, an admirable figure that worked tirelessly to combat the wretched demons of the Abyss in the far North. These stories are often dismissed as absurdities, but I know them to be true, for it is a gift I share in as well. To be blessed with the voice of the divine is something very few can fathom, even among the learned and the wise.

If this is what Lady Cansellarion is experiencing, perhaps her misguided crusade is simply indicative of some flaw in her understanding? Or perhaps it is not, and this rebellion bears a greater significance? The machinations of the Divine Order are often complex, far too complex for mortal comprehension. In such circumstances, faith must guide us, and my spirit tells me that there is a Truth here that I Must uncover.

My contemplations would have to wait for after more material objectives were resolved though, as we had set our sights on our next objective: the rescue of Paralictor Chard and the first sacrifice in the rededication of Westcrown. Father Dexsius remained in the Citadel, preoccupied with stabilising the purification magic he had performed upon the shield archon Othiel, while the rest of us set off.

It is too infrequent that I praise our dear Paraduke Kennari. His magical acumen has been endlessly convenient in ensuring us both swift and comfortable travel, allowing us to focus our efforts on the tasks at hand with neither distraction nor delay. It is for this reason we permitted him a brief moment to lament the state of the city that was once his residence. The Paraduke had not returned to Westcrown in decades, and could only remark that the once beautiful jewel of the Chelaxian Empire was but a pitiful shadow of its former self. It is fortunate then that we have arrived, heralds of its rebirth and rejuvenation!

Mistr Kezax, ever the capable scout, took point in investigating Taranik House. The office had been struck fiercely. No doubt the Reclamation heretics feared what the Rack might do in response to their crimes, and launched an unprovoked attack with disproportionate force. These are the only circumstances in which a righteous Hellknight can be felled, as we have seen. Nothing of note remained in the mistreated building, so Mister Kezax continued his search. This led us to the Adeletti, a former warehouse that had been repurposed as the guildhall for the ferrymen who navigate the city’s many channels. It is there that we would need to make our first sacrifice, and there that we would encounter a situation.

The Adeletti was surrounded by dottari guards attempting to control what was apparently an active hostage situation. Mister Kezax was able to slip past the security barricade and enter the building to learn more. There, he found two iron golems standing guard, and beyond them the sounds of hurried construction and agitated pacing.

A well-placed spell to displace us to Kezax’s location brought us within the Adeletti, and face to face with the metallic guardians. We recognised these golems to be of Hellknight make, which made my presence ideal. My gauntlets made clear my place within the Orders, and thus I commanded the guardians to allow us passage into the adjoining room.

Days without food or bath left Paralictor Chard in a less than ideal state, but even then, there was no mistaking his identity as a proper Hellknight. Our mutual recognition made the ensuring discussion very efficient. The man had been instructing one of the ferrymen to repair one of the damaged barges, a means to secure his escape from the city to regroup with his allies in Citadel Rivad. We offered him an alternative: we would transport him directly to the Citadel, and in return, we would use his worker for a greater purpose. The other captives would regrettably be eliminated, so as not to disseminate any information to our foes. Paralictor Chard, sensible as he was, immediately agreed to our proposition.

The ritual was simple enough to conduct, remarkably so, given its potency. Though it was but a small fraction of the true effect, the Infernal energy I felt diffusing itself into the structure of the historic building marked our ritual as powerful magic indeed. The first step towards a truly magnificent reconstitution!

In part bolstered by the ritual, and desiring some measure of righteous retribution for the crimes committed against the Order of the Rack, we opted to confront the dottari directly, rather than flee without incident. By my own estimation, it would not do to leave such corrupt individuals unpunished, lest we give the lost flock a false impression of Justice.

The soldiers sent to capture Paralictor Chard were formidable for their ilk. If nothing else, I can appreciate that the Reclamation heretics have enough sense still to hold the Hellknights in such esteem. However, this was far from enough to prepare them for our presence. Mister Kezax’s well-placed bolts, Paraduke Kennari’s devastating fire and lightning, Miss Archie’s splendid draconic form, and my righteous blade would not be halted by their meagre protections, and their strikes could barely scratch the magnificently clad golems of the Rack. Paralictor Chard, even in his weakened state, joined us long enough to deliver the finishing blow on the last remaining soldier. His blade was not dull as it struck its mark with all the precision I might expect of a disciplined protector of Order.

So it was that we departed, most of us teleporting while Miss Arcatraz carried off the golems in her draconic form. The heretics would know that they could no longer touch the Hellknight Order of the Rack. In time, these paragons of True Law will surely return in full force to repay the debt these lowly criminals have incurred…

GM's Notes: There was a bit of a chain of events that led to yet another hiatus. I was travelling, then upon my return I was very sick, then another player was undergoing renovations... It led to a bit of a dry spell. But I resolved to absolutely play this past week so as not to let complacency get the better of us. Dexsius' player was regrettably unable to join, so I directed the party to a mission that would be relatively simple to pull off without him. Thus, the party has collected their first ally in this campaign.

I didn't have the privilege to play Council of Thieves, so I only have a passing knowledge of Gonville Chard, but I'm resolving to make him a pleasantly bitter stick in the mud of a Hellknight, more than willing to say "to Hell with it" at this point and help the party out, despite them being a group of very obvious psychopaths. So far, I'm having fun with it. I haven't even mentioned the names he (aka, I) gave to the golems.

Also, while I acknowledge that the book says the golems won't willingly leave the area they're charged with protecting, it seemed a waste to just leave them there, especially when we had a party member with the carrying capacity to bring them along. No, I think I'll make better use of them as background NPCs for some shenanigans...

[Trichotome]

GM's Notes: I'm actually a week behind on these, but 71 was a short session so I might just combine it with 72. For now, enjoy a double feature!

24/04/12 - Session 70 - Mortal Marina
Sunday, 20th Kuthona, Citadel Rivad, Longmarch
Participants: Vipostix

My dear puppet elected not to join the second sortie for the Pentagram Ritual. Hearing the rumour that Alexeara Cansellarion is a recipient of a god’s words piqued his interest enough to merit further conversation with the Knight Commander. All the better that he take some time away from his companions; it will give me more time to refine my control. One of the downsides of creating such a suggestible mind is that it remains susceptible from any source, and I am not fond of sharing. I may well need to keep a close eye until his purpose is served, lest someone try to take him from me.

But fear not, lovely audience. This “splitting of the party” will not deprive you your voyeurism. I’ll even grant you the privilege of seeing both perspectives. On that note, let’s see what little adventure the Agents of Thrune have embarked on…

With the first point of the ritual complete at the Adeletti, the Agents decided to continue the ritual in a clockwise pattern. It was amusing watching them try to reconcile the fact that they would not be following the order of a pentagram. Ultimately, they decided that a pentacle would be the next best thing, as though this had import. They try so desperately to cling to patterns, like ants unfailingly following the trail set for them. Naturally, we’ve ample contingencies to ensure that the ritual would succeed regardless of order, but their adherence to known structures is quaintly charming.

What does matter is the significance of these sites. Each tied to a founder of Aroden’s faith in Westcrown, and thus, a cornerstone of the dead god’s lingering hold on the city. The Adeletti honoured Founder Crucisal, spirit of water travel and patron od the adeliers. The Agents’ next destination was the Condottari Marina, where Founder Dotara, the spirit of guardians and patron of dottari, defined the structures of the city watch. Why she chose such a small secluded rock in the middle of the channel, I’ve never bothered to research, but it serves our purposes well. The Marina was guarded, but hardly by anyone capable of putting up a real fight.

As expected, it was a slaughter, and an entertaining one at that. The elven paraduke appeared before the halfling major and her three condottari in training with all the dramatic flair I would expect from one of Thrune’s beloved peons. He lacks the presence of a proper servant of Hell, but his ability to punctuate his taunts with sufficiently powerful magic validates his authority, perhaps even enough to consider him as a future project. Disintegrating the diminutive guardwoman’s firearm was a particularly nice touch, though personally I would have used it against her instead and preserved it. The weapon’s design was interesting enough to merit inspection. That said, I can hardly complain about the method of execution. The half-blood priest has taken quite a liking to his death clutch magic, and to date the spectacle has not worn out its welcome.

As for the trainees… There are times where I wonder what it must be like for a mortal with such limited vision, to find themselves fired upon by projectiles emanating from invisible forces. These deaths seem so pitiful when one sees as much as I do. From my perspective, the lizard and the would-be noble unleashed volley after volley upon those men with impunity, while all they could do was bob their heads in confusion and make futile attempts to swim to shore in the hopes of not being picked off one by one (which, as one might expect, is exactly what happened).

My favourite part of this charade of a defence was the attempt at an aquatic counter-ambush. That a cetaceal would think she could do anything of value against my agents was as laughable as seeing her be sent right back to her plane as soon as she emerged to confront them. Her summoned elemental soon after met a similar fate and now finds itself wallowing in so much dirt.

The triton servant to the celestial beast fared only marginally better before meeting his demise. In some ways, I could see some parallels between the aquatic sniper and the kobold butler. Their unfailing service to a greater being of planar power, their preference for crossbows… Would that he shared in the ability to be subtle, and perhaps he might not have died so pitifully. An ambush is only worthwhile if the follow through is successful.

So it was, the dockworkers hiding in the marina lost what little protection they had. One was taken for the sacrifice, and the others were made wonderfully awful prey to a swarm of insects. Not the most efficient use of manpower, perhaps, but it certainly punctuated the point. Only servants of Hell will be spared in Westcrown’s rebirth.

Now then, shall we see what my dear Dominus was up to?

24/04/12 - Session 70 - Where Only Statues Hear
Sunday, 20th Kuthona, Citadel Rivad, Longmarch
Participants: Dominus

As his companions preoccupied themselves with the continuation of their mission in Westcrown, Dominus remained at the Citadel, eager to sate his curiosity.

Endranni Malesk, Knight Commander of the Glorious Reclamation, one of Alexeara Cansellarion’s most capable tacticians, and the one tasked with the capture of Citadel Rivad, hung limply in his cell, the chains on his wrists keeping him upright. His body was covered in bruises and welts from prior interrogations, but between his mable skin and the heavenly chorus that seemed to supernaturally surround him, he appeared almost as though some religious monument.

That thought crossed Dominus’ mind as he entered the room, chair in hand. There may even be merit to it, in some capacity. He had come seeking spiritual clarity, after all.

Endranni woke when the cell opened, though he did not raise his head to speak.

“Have you come to end this charade, or do you still believe you can draw blood from this stone? You will learn nothing from me.”

“I beg to differ. I think there is a great deal I will learn from you.”

The new voice was enough to make the prisoner look up, seeing the smiling face of the knight sitting in front of him.

“Ah, the false paladin. The madman who believes himself some kind of chosen one.”

“Do you think it wise to taunt those whose mercy you depend on, heretic?”

Endranni spat on the floor. “Your mercy is as much a mockery as your faith, Fex. I’ve read enough reports of your deeds to know the kinds of atrocities you commit to those in your ‘care’. I’m under no illusions as to my fate. I fear neither death nor damnation. I’ve done my part to serve our Lady’s will. No torture will undo what we’ve achieved. Hurting me does nothing save validate my accomplishments. So do your worst. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Dominus’ smile never wavered, nor did his eyes turn away. It was the unnerving stare that frightened countless people, and for many, was the last sight they had ever seen. “You misunderstand. I have no intention of harming you. I merely wish to converse. However, you’ve touched on a subject I am rather interested in. Tell me, just what is it you believe you have accomplished? Your army is eradicated. Any influence your corruption has had on the land has been cleansed. Save for Westcrown, the ‘Reclamation’, as you call it, is a failure. So, what accomplishments do you speak of?”

A weak smirk adorned the general’s pale lips, though his missing teeth made it somewhat more crooked than it used to be. “The accomplishment of exposing the Chelish ‘Empire’ for a poorly supported house of cards. Even if I was not victorious, even if you manage to retake Westcrown… That damage is done. Thrune’s empire has been crumbling for decades, but now everyone knows how fragile you truly are.” Spurred by his own words, the prisoner continued with even more vigour, “Our movement will be the first of many. You’ve already lost Ravounel. You will surely lose more. Even if there isn’t another organised force, the vultures have already begun picking the carcass apart. It’s only a matter of time before your nobles and your church turn on each other, before citizens realise that they need not suffer your tyranny and call once more for justice… You’ve done nothing but delay the inevitable.”

For the briefest of moments, a twinge flicked across Dominus’ eerily still smile, though it vanished just as quickly as it came. “Amusing. I see what you are trying to do. You wish for me to lose my temper and strike at you, to justify to yourself that I am some base creature fuelled by hatred, as you are. But I do not hate you. Your ignorance is repulsive, but it cannot be helped, because you do not understand the world as I do. You do not know the Truth that I know.”

It was faint, but Endranni was clever enough to know when his words struck a chord. Arrogance inserted itself into his disdainful tone. “Is this where you espouse a sermon your psychotic faith, that you utter your nonsense that the Lady of Valor is somehow the Dark Prince’s servitor?”

A sigh escaped from the servant of the Divine Order, “No, I would not waste the words of the Divine Order on a wretch so far gone as yourself. Your leader however… This Lady Alexeara Cansellarion. She may yet be deserving of this wisdom.”

The mere mention of his beloved commander’s name made the aasimar’s blood boil. “If you believe the Lord Marshal would listen to a single vile word to come out of your mouth, you are gravely mistaken.”

The innocence on Dominus’ face may well have been feigned or genuine, few other than himself would know which it was. “But why not? She is already privy to the Holy Word, is she not?”

“Do not even dare to compare your psychosis with her!” Endranni’s voice increased to a shout, “Lord Marshal Cansellarion is a true conduit of the divine, not some pretender like you! It is the Inheritor herself whose will she channels!”

“Then it is true. Lady Iomedae truly guides the hand of this mortal soul?” The false paladin leaned in, eager for the next response.

Overtaken by emotion, the Knight Commander hardly noticed that he had played into his captor’s hand. He wished only to wipe the smile off of the vile being’s face. “Yes. I’ve seen it myself. The woman is blessed, and with our Lady guiding her, the Lord Marshal will surely end your miserable heresy!”

The response Endranni Malesk received however, was not dread, nor frustration. Rather, it was joy. The man sitting opposite him, who eagerly participated in tyranny and torture, had the unmistakeable look of immense jubilance.

“Such wonderful news… Wonderful!”, Dominus affectionately patted the prisoner's shoulder, as one would a companion, “Truly, I must thank you, lost lamb… To learn of this is a true blessing!”

“Only a madman or someone who seeks absolution would rejoice at the promise of their own destruction… I pity you.” The knight commander could only look in confusion and concern. It was a look Dominus had seen all too many times from the priests on his pilgrimage.

The servant of the Divine Order sat back down in his chair, his exuberance tamed somewhat, “Your failure to see the Truth is vexing, but you have given me a gift, and merits reward. Speak then, how have you come to pity me?”

“I pity all who have succumbed to the temptations of tyranny. Your short sightedness will be your undoing, all of you. You chose to be loyal to something that has no loyalty towards you. Do you really believe Thrune won’t throw you to the dogs the moment it’s convenient for them? That Hell will spare you from the agonies of damnation? You will enjoy a brief privilege at the cost of an eternity of suffering, and you will realise far too late that it was a poor deal.”

Dominus stroked his chin, as though pondering the words. His impression of a scholar seemed almost comical when one knew of his reputation. “It is this that separates you and I, heretic. Your thinking is far too narrow and simplistic. You see this as some sort of battle where one side must win and the other must lose. Where power and suffering reside in what one can grasp with their hands or feel with their flesh. This is not the way the world works!”

“...” Endranni waited in silence, watching the twisted cogs turn in the broken mind before him.

“The Reality of this universe is more akin to a puzzle, or a beautifully intricate machine composed of many fine components, each working in harmony to produce something beautiful and meaningful. What are Heaven and Hell, if not gears that grind in opposition to each other, each necessary to maintain the motion of its counterpart? What is punishment, if not simply a purification of the materials? I do not fear such things, because I am pure, and if I were to receive such a thing, then I would know it is in the service of honing me, as one uses a whetstone on a blade to sharpen it. Do you understand? Divine punishment is only a punishment if one misunderstands its purpose!”

Dominus stood from his chair. He begun to restlessly pace around the cell, as though energy was desperate to scape from him.

“I suppose I cannot blame your ignorance. Even I did not fully grasp Order’s Will until now. I thought your uprising to be a festering infection, but that is not entirely accurate. You are impurities yes, but the nature of your rebellion is not chaotic, as a malady might be. No, this is a controlled extraction, as one might do to filter out impurities from clean water. I thought you all lost lambs, stampeding without reason, but you had a shepherd after all! I see now that your Lord Marshal truly is the other half to this equation. She is the anvil to my hammer! The one who sets firm the steel of our Empire so that I might strike it until it is perfectly shaped! She sees the Truth as I do, and we shall complete each other! This is the Divine Order’s Will!”

After hearing such a litany, it was all the Knight Commander could do not to weep for the state of the false paladin’s deluded mind. “Dominus Fex, I pray that one day the light of heaven will reach that tortured broken mind of yours, for it is clear to me that your are well beyond any sort of mortal salvation.”

As Dominus’ thoughts raced, he barely considered Endranni’s words, “I thank you, but the Divine Order’s light shines upon me amply. In fact, as Lady Alexeara has herded you to me as a herald of our joint purpose, it is only appropriate that I complete the ritual to acknowledge the message. For the anvil guides…”

Dominus’ hands raised up, revealing the heavy mace Sinderbos in their grip. Endranni closed his eyes for the last time.

“…and the hammer strikes.”

The flaw in the metaphor was not lost on either man. To forge an item with anvil and hammer, it ought to be composed of metal.

Be it made of marble, or bone and flesh, Knight Commander Endranni Malesk’s body would ultimately make a poor, and messy, substitute.

GM's Notes: Funny enough, none of my players seemed to have much interest in conversing with Endranni after his capture, and yet I had so many lines I wanted him to say to the party. Ultimately, I just ended up recycling them for this interrogation. It also gave me an opportunity to properly dig into Dominus' feeling about Cansellarion's "unique gift", which is something I absolutely would have taken some time with if I was still a player.

I actually knew about the "hears Iomdeae's voice reveal before we started the campaign. Before even that, I knew that there was an option to corrupt Alexeara, so the concepts I put forth for a character were all linked to the idea of corrupting others. Dominus ended up emerging to fit a need among the party for a frontliner, and fit the idea of a twisted Iomedaean perfectly. The hearing voices part I added in when that little detail was shared with me, which prompted me to turn him into even more of a sort of evil version of the BBEG (or BBGG in this case). Now, I can finally set the groundwork for that eventual payoff. It's quite exciting!

[Trichotome]

24/04/19 & 24/05/03 - Session 71 & 72 - Connect the Diabolical Dots
Moonday, 21st Kuthona, Citadel Rivad, Longmarch
Participants: Vipostix

The Pentagram Ritual continued on track. Given the individuals we have sent on this mission, one could hardly expect otherwise.

The remaining points selected for the ritual were the Southrun Eddy and Founder’s Peak. Neither are sites of any particular worth beyond historic significance. All the better that they be made useful.

First, the eddy. It could best be described as Westcrown’s sewage drain. A current pulls waste from the river into a whirlpool that naturally produces an unsightly accumulation of filth. A fitting metaphor for Westcrown itself. The death of Aroden left a city-sized gaping hole, and that hole has served as a gathering point for refuse and degenerates. Were it not for its significance, I would have preferred that we strike the filthy ruined city from the map and build it anew. Alas, far as Westcrown has fallen, it was once the greatest pillar of the human god’s worship, and that gives it worth, even in its decrepit state. Provided, of course, that it is properly cleansed first.

In that respect, the Southrun Eddy is much the same. At one time, the locals made a half-hearted attempt to clean the wretched whirlpool from time to time, but it was hardly enough to deter the immigration of a pack of omox demons. Those disgusting pests saw to the last few band of cleaners, and the effort has been abandoned since. How typical of the lazy Wiscrani, to abandon a site once sacred to their ilk for something so trivial. A properly managed territory would have sent a squadron to blast those nauseating creatures out of existence. Fortunately, Hell keeps its holdings to higher standards. Rest assured, if we create a heap of waste, it is out of intent, not negligence.

As for dealing with the interlopers, there is little to be said. The dragon woman ate one (green dragons do have questionable taste, after all) and the rest were obliterated by magic or projectiles. A savvy demonologist would recognise that omoxes weaponise their noxious bile as their primary form of offence, and such a practice can very easily be denied with simple magical solutions that purify air or avoid the need to breathe entirely. As luck would have it, the priest used just such magic briefly before the fight commenced.

My favoured pet would no doubt call this a brilliant act of prescience by one guided by the great Asmodeus. The Hellspawn priest himself may think something similar. That would be ridiculous of course. Dexsius merely made use of his magic to avoid an unpleasant smell, being the petty and vain man he is and ought to be. He was fortunate enough that it perfectly countered their upcoming foe. This fight was won not by the cunning of mortals, but by the inevitability of their natures. To understand those natures, and then to place them in the correct environments to yield the ideal outcome is how our game is played. It is a game I happen to be exceptional at. Though, I will grant, my pieces give me a modest advantage. Competent minions are a rarity these days.

There was one brief interference just barely worthy of note. In search of a suitable sacrifice, the agents seized a nearby fisherman. Uncouth and unrefined as any fisher, this one, though he had a singular talent for being astoundingly dense and irritating. Simply listening to the man prattle felt as though it were sapping my intellect, even as a distant observer. The agents dispatched him before he could cause any real damage, though they botched the sacrificial ritual in the process, wasting everyone’s time and forcing them to find another candidate.

Given the circumstances, it would be reasonable to assume that such an act was some sort of sabotage. Perhaps Iomedae or one of her inane cronies was desperate enough to attempt something, since they could hardly halt the process by force. I might have expected such a ridiculous scheme from the likes of the drunkard god-pretender or that pesky overgrown insect Desna.

And yet, it was neither. Rather, the irritating fisherman was little more than a tasteless jape from the Lantern King, of all things. Why an Archfey would dare to meddle here is beyond me, though most of their behaviours are, truth be told. Even my ability to comprehend foolishness has its limits. Let those absurdist caricatures keep to their First World; they ought to have no place in proper reality.

Well, there is little to be done over such a trivial thing as this. It did nothing but delay the inevitable by an hour or so. Let us hope they make no further attempts to derail this story, or we shall all have to suffer a most tedious tangent as we remind them of their place. None of us want that, I’m sure. This story has already gone on longer than it needs to.

Speaking of, let us take a brief moment to acknowledge the fourth ritual then be on our way. Founder’s Peak is located within the olive orchards of the Arthrugge estate. The Arthrugges are a middling noble family known only for their production of luxury oil. When the crusading army arrived, they smelt trouble and promptly left for an extended stay in Isger. A reasonable course of action for pitiful mortals with only material wealth as any metric of power. The priest considered this an act of heresy and, were it not for the interference of the teacher, would have sent his subordinates to kill them, which is hilariously in character for the zealot. If I didn’t know the reason for his continued existence, I’d have to wonder how he wasn’t already quietly assassinated by the church for his complete lack of tact. As much could be said for all of these agents really. The ways in which their follies fly in the face of standard decorum do make for great entertainment. It is the only form of chaos I can abide.

Initial reaction aside, the minions did have the sense to intend to spare the orchard of any collateral damage, lest they endanger Egorian’s precious supply of olive oil. It was a pledge that makes the ensuing events all the more amusing. You see, that plan changed rather abruptly when they came across a giant ram-shaped animate bush. Being the territorial creature it was, it attacked them, and in the ensuing commotion the peasants swiftly hid in their cellar, hoping to hide from the dragon that apparently roamed onto the premises. The agents took exception to the disrespect.

Well, I suppose they mostly kept to their plan. Only a modest patch of the orchard and all of its caretakers were incinerated or corroded, and a token effort was made to compensate for the destruction. Really, the only measure of restraint was that the manor was still standing and House Arthrugge may survive with only a few ruined harvests. Most likely, our dear Queen will rationalise this as the cost of doing business and find some way to turn backlash into political clout. At times, her ability to twist things to her favour rivals that of my precious Dominus.

It’s of little import to me, of course. Egorian could stand to lose a few of its luxuries from time to time. Such scarcities serve us well. You’d be surprised how many nobles are willing to sign away a soul or two for the sake of a few high quality ingredients. Of course, it’s never their own, but it serves us all the same. Chelaxian nobles are quite generous when bartering with goods that are not their own.

In any case, that sets things up nicely for the last and most important step of the ritual. Assuming all goes well, and there is no reason it wouldn’t, Westcrown will be in our hands by the day’s end.

What a wonderful way to celebrate Dies Irae!

GM's Notes: This one ended up being quite late. The sessions lately have been rather short and simple, so coming up with enough to merit a journal entry has been a bit tough. I've combined two sessions for this one, and will be combining the last session and the upcoming one as well.

The fisherman wasn't exactly planned, but just a joke that emerged from us joking about the fisherman being a very special kind of stupid where he didn't realise what was going to happen to him. Everyone was so eager to kill him, and then rolled a nat 1 on the Religion check to do the ritual, so I decided to turn it into a comical supernatural event.

Nettles was a fun encounter, but frankly suffered from the fact that the party is simply too strong. He got one two-person trample down before getting blasted into oblivion. This is what happens when a player gets hit too often in the early game and way overcompensates on their AC. Also, that map was entirely too small for Nettles, so I ended up using a big blank battlemap instead. In hindsight, I think I would have tossed a second one in there, just to keep them on their toes. It's a lesson I'm keeping in mind for the future.

[Trichotome]

24/05/10, 24/05/24 & 24/08/17 - Session 73, 74, & 75 - A New Crown for the West
Moonday, 21st Kuthona, Qatada Nessudidia, Westcrown, Longmarch
Participants: Vipostix

The Qatada Nessudidia is a lovely little piece of architecture. Perhaps the only redeeming feature of the festering blemish that is Westcrown. I must give some credit to Founder Vadrus, his crystal light fixture does make for a suitable focal point for what is perhaps one of the grandest seizures of my illustrious career. That the Reclamation would seal away something so grand with such a garrish thing as a rudimentary wall of stone speaks volumes to their lack of culture. Placing a statue of Lymirin on the dais was even further insult. These pitiful attempts at jabs against us lack any elegance or tact.

Nevertheless, the patron of first blood was a suitable spectator for the arrival of our agents.

Now, I could certainly provide a detailed recounting of the battles that ensued, how each soldier of the Inheritor fought in vain and fell before our might, or how a swarm of irritating motes tried again and again in vain to protect its charges, achieving nothing save to be a mild annoyance. I could even include some quips about the dragon of Geryon’s apparent contempt for stairs, opting instead to simply bore through the floors…

I could do all this, but I will not. The simple fact of the matter is, ascending the “tree of Nessus” was child’s play for Hell’s chosen. Maraya, the foolish brijidine, thought amassing some feeble footsoldiers and an overenthusiastic pile of window shards would be enough to so much as slow them down.

Well, that is not entirely true. Maraya knew what was coming and did try desperately to relay a warning to her masters. It’s a pity they never saw fit to send her the reinforcements she requested. How utterly unfortunate for her to suffer such a simple miscommunication…

Dear reader, I do hope you’ve caught on to the sarcasm in my words. Naturally, this was my doing.

You would think followers of a war goddess would better secure their logistics from tampering. Then again, these are the same followers that allowed the likes of an azata into their ranks, so their grasp of structure and security was already questionable at best. I can hardly take credit for sabotage when my opponents are so woefully inept. I still will, of course, but it’s a meagre accomplishment.

Maraya herself was ever so moderately more challenging than the rest of her fodder. Truly, the sole reason for that was the gift she had received from her deific patrons. Were the brijidine’s flames not bolstered with divine force, it would have been a farce to pit her against Hell’s champions. Nevertheless, even with such a gift she was humbled swiftly. Surely, she should have expected a dragon like Arcatraz to attempt to seize her and prepare some countermeasure. Or at least, a countermeasure that had not already been assassinated near the beginning of the fight. How pitiful it was, to spend her last moments being devoured, unable to flee and with her divine boon severed.

A fitting end for one of Elysium’s vagrants. Good riddance.

In the process of liberating Lord Asmodeus’ place of worship, our agents also had the good fortune of rescuing Westcrown’s High Priest, one Jarvaxus Garestic. I’m rather fond of the mortal myself. All the acumen that his father squandered was put to good use in his son by having him serve us directly. He has enough intelligence to act with only minimal guidance, unlike my dear pet, but nevertheless knows his place well enough not to overstep, unlike so many of the “faithful” in the service of our Lord. It was a stroke of wisdom to place him in Westcrown, where he could be truly useful in organising our seizure of Aroden’s last bastion. In that, he has played his part adequately. No doubt his promise would have swiftly eroded in Egorian’s courts. We have ample sycophants as it is.

Dear reader, I wish to convey how deeply pleased I am with our accomplishment. As you can surely surmise, the Pentagram Ritual was a success, and so it was that on this, the Dies Irae 110 years after the death of the mortal god Aroden, Westcrown was given over to a new master.

Now that it is well and truly ours, there’s just the simple matter of removing the unwanted guests…

GM's Notes: As you may have noticed, there was a pretty long gap since my last post. Long story short, summer schedules were hard. We got there eventually though.

Most of the temple fight was pretty standard. Most of the soldiers could barely make a dent in the intensely tanky frontline, so it was a pretty brutal stomp.

To make the final fight not be laughably easy, I added a couple chaplains and a third sword knight to support Maraya, and then made the call that Maraya had received an extra blessing, so all her fire damage was half-fire half-holy. I also turned her fire storm spell into the mythic version. That spell made a dent in the party, enough that it actually made her a threat.

Well, that was until Archie grappled her. Turns out Maraya had nothing to counter being grappled, and her one counter for that was the cleric that Kezax took out in the second round. I had a plan where she had a lower DC to escape since Archie was specifically holding her against a wall, so I was going to let her have a chance to use Meld Into Stone if she could find an opening. She didn't, and Kezax hit her with sever alignment, which I judged cancelled out her extra blessing instead. By then, the fight was pretty much over. The only thing that prevented her from dying immediately then was Dexsius being unlucky with his checks to get past her SR.

We had another session yesterday to close out that part of the campaign, but Archie's player was unwell so I just turned it into a shopping and recap session. I've got a couple commitments so it'll be a few weeks before I resume again, but after that I plan to see this ride to its end.

P.S. I don't know what's up with the post above this one. Reads like some AI spam, and the account has nothing else. I'm just going to report and move on.

[Trichotome]

24/08/23, 24/09/13, & 24/10/18 - Session 76, 77, & 78 - Order of Operations
Moonday, 28th Kuthona, Qatada Nessudidia, Westcrown, Longmarch

Yes yes, I know it’s been a while since I updated this little record. I promise you, it was not on account of any lack of drive on my part. Quite simply put, I was otherwise occupied, and there was fairly little that transpired here that would be worthy of committing to the written word. Despite how my dear puppet so often makes it out to be, not every moment of Our grand designs are particularly glamorous, nor do they all make for harrowing tales or opportunities to provide insight. Nevertheless, I would not wish to leave you, dear reader, with nothing. Fortunately, enough material has now accumulated to be worth my time, and by extension, yours.

One of the boons that comes with completing the Pentagram Ritual is the ability to use it as a focus point for the Inferno Gates. Given that our agents had already secured one such gate, the realignment was quite simple. Now, there is a direct passage from Malebolge to Westcrown, meaning we can accumulate a suitable legion to bring down upon the upstart Iomedaeans. Much of the week was dedicated to this purpose. Now, I cannot say that we are sending our best. After all, this is a mortal affair, and thus needs only minimal investment on our part. Nevertheless, it will be enough to fulfil our end of the bargain. One interesting detail I’ve heard is that among the forces there are signs of some of green draconic influence. No doubt Gartheris’ prolonged proximity to the gate had something to do with it. Not that We mind. If anything, I suspect Lord Geryon finds it amusing.

Visperthul grumbled somewhat at his relocation, but in time he came around to appreciating the importance of this new assignment. The appropriation of Westcrown is no small achievement, and as such its bridge to Hell merits at least some measure of competent oversight. Well, competent might be a strong word. For an Ayngavhaul of his station to allow someone like the elder Fex to uncover his true name is a significant failure. However, it is a failure that serves me well. It is by my underling’s hand that Visperthul retains some measure of freedom, a debt I will all too gladly collect should I ever have need of it.

Now then, back to the triteness of mortal matters. As our agents have surmised, the Glorious Reclamation’s power structure is ostensibly solid on the surface, but is actually a very fragile house of cards. The bulk of Iomedae’s crusaders are putting all of their effort into maintaining a secure central perimeter around the Korradath. It should come as no surprise that the Inheritor’s vermin would scurry back into her former master’s seat of Imperial power. These simple creatures live in the past, yearning for a lost glory they only believe they once had. In doing so however, they’ve entrusted the care of the rest of the city to but a few key influencers.

Conquest is a simple thing when the enemy misplaces so much trust in their emissaries. Westcrown is in a raw state, easy to sway one way or the other with the right pressure. All it takes is to knock over a few cards, and the underlying support that the Reclamation relies upon will fall apart.

The first, and perhaps most significant of these cards was Aveshiel the Swift. Over the years in my role as the Arch Adjudicator of Celestial Acquisitions, I’ve often found myself at odds with this particular planetar. Iomedae seems to enjoy sending this general to time sensitive situations, which is a descriptor that applies to most instances where I have sought to appropriate heavenly relics. Too often, Aveshiel has swooped in at a most inopportune moment to attempt to deny me my prize.

To date, the most problematic aspect of this planetar is that they are blessed with divine speed. They’ve never sought to confront me nor my minions directly. Instead, they seize that which I covet and immediately abscond beyond Our reach. In Westcrown however, their role is somewhat different. They’ve been tasked with eradicating organisations of lesser mortals and intercept their logistics. The lesser mortals of the Infernal clergy and the Hellknights are too feeble to face an angelic general, so Aveshiel functions as a sort of catch-all one-angel patrol force. A suitable role, all things considered. Something akin to an angelic janitor.

What a shame for them that this also means they would have nowhere to run, lest they abandon their post. It is a rare opportunity, to force my pest into a confrontation from which they cannot flee.

Aveshiel the Swift, swift though they may be, is far from strong enough to contest our agents. Their speed cannot pierce the armour of a high tier Infernal battle cleric. Nor can speed account for that which is undetected, such as the bolt of a particularly subtle kobold assassin. A bolt, might I add, suffused with the power to disrupt angelic properties.

Speed is a useful blessing, but it is, in essence, a multiplier. It relies on a strong base to offer any real benefit. No amount of speed can compensate for impotence. And there are few things as impotent as an angel stripped of their divine connection.

Aveshiel’s demise and its consequences were indeed swift, so their title remained consistent even in death, at least.

The battle transpired in a public space, where many onlookers were able to confirm with their own eyes what had happened. The Wiscrani are an opportunistic sort, shrewd and unprincipled enough to accept whatever status quo befalls them. Seeing one of the Reclamation’s strongest allies fall so resoundingly was a clear message. The streets were no longer the uncontested territory of Heaven’s knights. Rebels could no longer rely on their angelic protection. Loyalists could resume their minor operations with impunity. The citizens of Westcrown would quickly learn to adjust their behaviour.

As for our agents, they chose an interesting trophy. Dexsius’ decision to construct a reliquary from Aveshiel’s fleeting ashes was amusing to say the least. For a mortal to bear the remains of an angel in such a prominent vessel is a mark of great arrogance which I for one applaud. Naturally, it will paint a target upon him for his enemies and rivals in the clergy alike, but Mephistopheles’ pet projects never seem to be too fond of subtlety in their ambitions. When all is said and done, I look forward to adding the trinket to my personal collection, but it shall do well enough in his hands in the meantime.

Speaking of the Hell-touched cleric, he had sent out some of his minions into the northern district of Rego Cader in search of some allies some time prior. The next chronicle in this project of ours will surely have something to do with the outcome of that excursion…

GM's Notes: I am very much behind on these journals now. For reference, we did session 82 this past Friday. Let's just say the tail end of this year has been keeping me very busy, and with the frequent delays I kind of lost my routine of writing these entries out regularly. I've got a bit of a break for the holidays, so I'm hoping I'll manage to catch up before the next session rolls around in January.

For anyone curious, I'm making an effort to buff pretty much every encounter from this point out to make up for the fact that the party is absolutely stacked. For Aveshiel, that came in the form of giving them the Mythic Agile template. In the end though, it wasn't all that effective. Being a cleric with absurd amounts of wealth at his disposal means that Dexsius' AC is simply too high for Aveshiel to make a dent, and Kezax's raw stealth is so strong that Aveshiel only beat it once very briefly. The two arcanists didn't give Aveshiel nearly as much of a reason to draw aggro, though I know they could have easily held their own as well.

Greater dispel magic on Dexsius and dismissal on Othiel were effective at giving the party a bit of a scare, but Dexsius had so many buffs that Aveshiel still couldn't reliably get past that crazy AC (at least not enough to surpass the cleric's healing abilities), and Othiel was brought back in the same round as he was dismissed by way of a scroll of Wish. Archie and Temoni basically spectated as a flex, with a few spells tossed in for good measure. By the time Kezax landed his Sever Alignment shot, Aveshiel was already in an absolutely no-win scenario.

I don't mind at all though. These are capable players using their high level characters to their fullest, so it's only natural they be so effective. What this helped me see is just what sort of strengths and weaknesses I'd be dealing with for the few future fights that were meant to be somewhat threatening. Short answer: lots and lots of saves in a short time span, preferably Reflex or Fort. I'd get to test that out a few sessions later with the Dorjanala, but I have more journals to get done before I talk about how that went...

[Trichotome]

24/11/08 - Session 79 - Enough to Make Your Skin Crawl
Toilday, 29th Kuthona, Qatada Nessudidia, Westcrown, Longmarch

As I mentioned in my last tale, the cleric in Our service sent some of the more skilled members of his delegation to Rego Cader on a quest to find some allies. Technically, that is sufficient context to proceed with the story, but that would be sloppy on my part. Your uneducated mind has no reason to recognise the implications of such a statement. Would you, ill-informed as you certainly are, have any reason to know what Rego Cader is or why one might go there in search of potential allies to our mission? Of course not, dear reader. Fortunately for you, I am nothing if not thorough, and I take pride in instructing those in need of education, as you’ve no doubt come to learn by now. Rest easy, as I shall simplify all these mortal entanglements for you.

Rego Cader is a ruined area in the northern end of Westcrown. It is a hive of scum and villainy, mostly of the distasteful sort. It is separated from the marginally more respectable Rego Crua by a rather large wall, with only the heavily fortified Obrigan Gate functioning as a connection between the two. Well, that is if we exclude the innumerous ways one might get around a perfectly mundane high wall, but it is nevertheless sufficient for the feeble mortals and creatures that inhabit that field of refuse.

Prior to the invasion, the guard faction known as the rundottari took on the responsibility of patrolling the region, but with the Glorious Reclamation at the helm, they’ve reduced that patrol to merely holding the wall and gate. This allowed the riff raff of Cader to fester and form into cabals, or at least the nearest thing their puny minds could approximate to structured organisations. Still, the evolution was significant enough that there might be some value in negotiating with them, at least in a capacity as fodder against the Reclamation…

There is some merit to using such scum for our gain. After all, the Iomedaeans could hardly call themselves orderly if they permitted bandits and monsters to run free, and the more distracted they are, the more freely we can act against them. Ultimately, it is not too dissimilar to how the faceless stalkers were used in Kantaria.

This was the premise the High Priest of Westcrown and the Hellknight Paralictor brought to our agents, and the reason for Dexsius sending his underlings into the rego.

But as one might expect, the minions of minions are rarely so impressive, and these three sub-agents found themselves prey to one of the more able groups within Cader, that being the vampire harem of one “Skinless Sark”.

Do you know of ecorches? I do not refer to the artistic rendition of a skinless humanoid, but rather the creatures that evoke their namesake. Quite nasty things, those giants of flesh and muscle. I’ve made a few of my own over the years, mostly out of boredom, though they can be quite useful for infiltration missions. Simply provide them with a skin, and they can wear it with surprising ease. I confess, I take quite a bit of pleasure in observing the horror in a mortal’s eyes when they witness a massive undead abomination burst out from what they believed to be their comrade or precious mentor. That particular flavour of shock and horror adds a very special spice to their souls.

As you might have surmised by that tangent, Sark was just such a creature, though not one of mine. As for the vampires, I believe they were once the toys of some forgotten actor or some such. Hardly anything worthy of note, save perhaps if one is an aficionado of the Wiscrani theatre scene.

In any case, with the context out of the way, we can resume the tale. Dear reader, I do hope you appreciate the effort I put to enrich these narratives for you. Many in Hell would be honoured to receive a fraction of the attention I generously offer you. I heed you not forget that.

Now, where was I? Right, the sub-minions in the clutches of Sark’s vampiric harem. Trapped as they were, they did still manage to accomplish their task, which was to relay a request to parlay. Sark and his wenches, though undead, were not mindless. They knew the chance to speak to the enemies of the crusaders was one they could not ignore. So, an invitation (though some might call it a ransom) was delivered to Dexsius by way of a scroll of sending. The invitation was immediately accepted.

Our agents were told of Sark’s reputation as a major player in Rego Cader, and subsequently had little trouble making it to the designated meeting place. Naturally with their lizard’s skills, they knew what they would be getting into well in advance, but nevertheless they chose a more diplomatic approach. The negotiation was as simple as one might expect when a trained priest of Asmodeus negotiates with a petty thug with a rotted brain. Sark may be shrewd for his kind, but that only makes him marginally more clever than the average Iomedaean knight. It is much akin to witnessing a trained duelist sparring with an infant.

Much as I would love to disclose the full contract here, it would be poor form of me to publicly expose the exact details of a barrister’s work without formal solicitation. Instead, I shall summarise the broad details of the contract for you: Sark would be granted occasional access to Rego Crua in exchange for rendering services to House Thrune and its representatives (most likely this would come in the form of designated feed targets, but other forms of service were not excluded). Additionally, Sark would return Dexsius’ three valuable underlings for no less than 20 live prey, as well as at least one lieutenant from the Obrigan Gate for Sark’s personal use as a new skin suit.

In order to seal the agreement, our agents needed control of the Obrigan Gate. The ensuing massacre was predictable. A squad of mundane guardsmen and a few lesser holy knights could hardly pose a threat to our chosen Infernal servitors. One earth elemental, various evocations, a few well placed bolts, and an abnormally large swarm of hornets later, and the rundottari were made to provide a sizeable portion of the contract’s prey requirement. Meanwhile, devils and agents loyal to House Thrune would take over operation of the gate. With the loss of Aveshiel, there was nothing the Reclamation’s few remaining patrols could do in response, save abandon the district. The butchers and meat peddlers of Rego Crua would need rely on the benevolence of their returned masters if they did not wish to become meat themselves. A simple arrangement to secure their compliance, indeed.

It remains to be seen for just how long Dexsius intends on keeping his agreement with Sark in place. The undead did not think to include any clause protecting themselves from later retribution, should our agents or House Thrune deem them past their usefulness, but such a clause could have easily been navigated if it was. Such is the folly of negotiating with Hell’s favoured.

That being said, the priest had no qualms with the notion of supplementing the prey quota with his own lesser followers, a surprisingly generous stance towards the ecorche all things considered. Perhaps our tiefling cleric sees special value in keeping Sark satisfied? Could it be part of some grander long term machinations on his part? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps Dexsius truly sees such little worth in the masses of his congregation that their sacrifice are worth it to save him some administrative effort.

Naturally, it would not be difficult for me to expose the reality, but I would not wish to rid you of the privilege of speculating upon it yourself. Stories are always better with a little bit of mystery, after all.

No need to thank me. Simply think of it as another favour on my part for your enjoyment. As you should know by now, we devils are always happy to grant favours…

Player's Notes: Another entry down, and two more left before I'm caught up!

I genuinely wasn't sure how the negotiation with Sark was going to play out. I beefed him and his vampires up, equipping the latter with some spells to make them able to pose at least a bit of a threat if push came to shove. I could have seen an outcome where Dexsius didn't tolerate the idea of his agents being used as snacks, and killed the vampires for the audacity of doing so. I also could have seen him accepting Sark's initial offer and leaving them to him, since they had allowed themselves to get captured.

Instead, he (with Temoni's help) simply made use of his beastly diplomacy skill to convince Sark that quantity would be preferable to quality. It worked out for me either way, and helped give Dex a bit of a character moment.

The subsequent Obrigan Gate fight was stretched out by the sheer volume of soldiers I added, but it didn't stop it from being a slaughter. Given that I was going to be making a lot of the subsequent fights much tougher, I figured I'd keep this one as more of a beatdown. It made for some good opportunities for the party to get their villain vibes out, which is always fun.

[Trichotome]

24/11/22 - Session 80 - Report From High Priest Garestic
Oathday, 31st Kuthona, Qatada Nessudidia, Westcrown, Longmarch

To Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune,

Your Majesty, I am pleased to report that the ongoing project to retake control of Westcrown is progressing smoothly. The agents you've sent have continued to demonstrate excellent skill in systematically demolishing key pillars of the Reclamation’s infrastructure. At our current velocity, I anticipate Westcrown’s complete submission within a month's time.

To corroborate the account of the situation with Ambassador Kyniar, I can confirm that Paraduke Kennari and Archbishop Oscellus were successful in persuading the Taldan ambassador to comply with the relocation request without the need of any magical interference nor problematic methods. Classic Chelaxian diplomatic insinuation was sufficient to persuade him to go along willingly.

The Fey Court’s plot against Ambassador Kyniar was very helpful in the discussions. I applaud your intelligence network for their shrewd work. Naturally, there is no tangible reason for the ambassador to suspect that we had any involvement in the Court’s actions against him, though from what I know of Vors, he may come to believe it was our doing regardless. If he does, rest assured that there is no proof with which to make such an accusation credible. Similarly, I do not believe the agents suspect any such conspiracy exists either, or if they do they are discreet enough for it to not be an issue.

The protection provided by the agents was satisfactory. They were effectively able to repel the ankou without any harm coming to the ambassador. One bodyguard suffered injuries, but nothing that wouldn't be expected in the line of duty, and all clearly perpetrated by the fey assassin.

Special mention is merited for Paraduke Temoni. His magical protections and overt selfless acts were instrumental in preventing any harm to the ambassador while demonstrating the sincerity of House Thrune’s protection. His political and arcane acumen are excellent, and his devotion to you rivals, if not eclipses, that which he had for your great-grandmother. I understand that your Majesty holds the Paraduke in high regard, so I wish to express my gratitude for sending him on this venture. During his escort of the ambassador, I understand he took the opportunity to report to you personally and offered his own assessments. I pray to Lord Asmodeus that his opinions on me were similarly favourable.

With regards to the kobolds in service of the green dragon Lady Arcatraz, the one known as Kezax did an exceptional job not only in permanently eliminating the ankou, but also in cleaning the suite after the job was done. There was hardly any work left for my own subordinates. However, we observed that after the incident, he brought back a component of the shadow creature. Lady Arcatraz made use of our ritual circle to bind these properties to him. I was not able to take full stock of the effects, as the dragon is not fully forthcoming with her knowledge, and Kezax is exceptionally hard to perceive, but from what I was able to gather, I believe the kobold to now be capable of limited magical power. I'll continue to take stock and provide a summary as I learn more, though it stands to reason that his already considerable assassination skills have been made even more potent. Nevertheless, neither he nor his master have given any indication of enmity against your Majesty at this time.

On the matter of Archbishop Oscellus, following his discussion with you he came to me with a question regarding spiritual matters. In essence, he wished to know whether Hell’s favour is tilted towards House Thrune or the Asmodaean ecclesiarchy.

My answer to him was the same one I once gave to your Majesty: Hell will stand to gain regardless of the victor. The mandate of Hell is given to the mortals who have the drive and guile to claim it, so it is in one’s best interest to use these traits to prove their continued worth to Lord Asmodeus. Those who succeed will have his favour so long as they do so, but those who fail irrevocably will only have value as fuel for his engines, regardless of their intents, ambitions, or faithfulness.

Dexsius was unsatisfied with this response alone, as it did not give him a clear answer, so I continued the exercise by guiding him to assess the two options in as objective a measure as possible. He naturally came to the same conclusion as I did, and sees continued loyalty to House Thrune as the best avenue for personal accomplishment. In my estimation, his loyalty is secure for the time being.

You requested my opinion on Dexsius Oscellus’s suitability for your goals. Your Majesty, he is a blunt instrument of pure Infernal force. He has great talent and acumen that rivals many High Priests, particularly in his mastery of Hell’s gifts, but these talents are more innate than they are the product of trained devotion. His grasp on the political nature of the faith is his weakness, especially considering the immense potential he has. This is why he has not risen the ranks of the church until now, despite his extensive tenure. If he were to wield his skills with more tact, I believe he could easily become one of Hell’s most powerful servants on the mortal plane. However, I believe this same weakness is a strength for House Thrune. So long as Dexsius is convinced of the truth that service to You is service to Lord Asmodeus, then his power is yours to wield as you see fit. You need only ensure that no other force lead him astray, which would be a difficult proposition, given his ironclad will.

With this in mind, I am confident in my endorsement for his candidacy as your next High Priest in Westcrown. With my supervision, I believe he can be a fitting bulwark against any opposing ambitions, while securing your continued relationship with Lord Asmodeus.

On the subject of endorsements, there remains the matter of the new Archbaron Fex. With all due respect your Majesty, the reports of his mental state were severely understated. The man’s mind is so far gone that I hesitate to call him cognisant. The influence of the deimavigga Vipostix is so thorough that it would be more apt to call him a puppet. What I found most impressive while speaking to Dominus is his ability to rationalise any situation to fit his twisted perspective, even without his master’s intervention. As a servant of Lord Asmodeus, I am incredibly impressed with such an effective and obedient agent, and would counsel that you make full use of Vipostix’s talents if you are able. As a mortal servant of House Thrune however, I must advise caution. Vipostix is a manipulator of Hell’s highest order, and his interests in this conflict go beyond Hell’s contract with House Thrune.

Vipostix’s primary objective appears to be to hunt for Iomedaean artifacts. The acquisition of Heart’s Edge is among his top priorities, but from conversations with Dominus, I’ve come to believe that he also has an interest in acquiring Alexeara Cansellarion herself, given her supposed direct connection to Iomedae. My view is that Vipostix takes personal offence at the fact that Iomedae is using a similar form of influence to what he has done with Dominus, and wishes to pervert it to his own ends.

Given our aligned objectives, I believe it would be in your Majesty’s best interest to negotiate a contract using these assets to secure Vipostix’ ongoing alliance after the rebellion is concluded. This should allow you to keep Archbaron Fex as a useful pawn for your projects. I fear that without an established arrangement, Vipostix will have no reason to keep Dominus explicitly in Cheliax’s service once Heart’s Edge and Alexeara Cansellarion are secured. Without that restriction, the risk of collateral damage from his continued existence could prove problematic, to say the least.

This concludes my report, your Majesty. I will continue to observe and report as per your wishes.

Faithfully yours,
High Priest Jarvaxus Garestic

GM's Notes: Since the mission was relatively simple and more time for this session was spent on roleplay, I opted to shake things up a bit and offer a summary from another character's perspective. When we ended the session, the party expressed quite a bit of fondness for Jarvaxus, which I was very happy to hear.

I've intentionally played the High Priest as much more forthcoming and straightforward with the party, which is kind of a breath of fresh air for them. He also expressed that he "enjoys the challenge" of Westcrown and considers his work there to be "true ambition" compared to brown nosing in Egorian. It aligns him philosophically with the party, who prefer carving out their own power rather than politicking. He's also acutely aware of the fact that the party is far more powerful than him at this point, so I toned down his imperious aspect mentioned in the book and made him more down to earth and friendly (perhaps too friendly for an Asmodaean, but at the same time that's what makes him so good at it).

The whole thing about Hell's mandate came from Dexsius having a conversation with the Queen where she admired his new trophy (the reliquary of Aveshiel's ashes) then questioned him to judge his worthiness as a High Priest candidate (in case you missed or forgot it from the earlier entries, in this version Abrogail II is using Westcrown as her insurance plan in case Aspexia Rugatonn or someone else tries to backstab her).

That discussion led to Dexsius trying to figure out whether he should be working towards going up the ranks of the clergy, or taking the "exile" job in Westcrown. Dex's player felt my "mandate of heaven" explanation of "Hell doesn't care, just make sure whatever side you pick wins" wouldn't satisfy Dexsius, so that led to Jarvaxus having kind of a mentorly chat where they broke down the pros and cons of each side until Dex decided Thrune was the way to go. I wasn't explicitly trying to manipulate him to that conclusion, but writing the journal out to imply Jarvaxus kinda did felt very fitting for him.

Anyway, that just leaves the two session-long combat with Silvereye as my last journal to be up to speed. That said, I might combine the next session into it since I left it at the very tail end of combat, so I don't have the aftermath yet. Then again, I could turn that into its own 3rd person entry like I do with the bookend journal entries... I'm still undecided.

[Trichotome]

24/12/13, 24/12/20 & 25/01/17 - Sessions 81, 82, & 83 - Eye of the Storm
Fireday, 1st Abadius, Dorjanala, Westcrown, Longmarch

Too long has it been since I last recounted the exploits of our righteous quest. Speaker of the Divine Order Lord Vipostix has of course been monitoring our mission closely as of late, so my own reports have been unnecessary. I took this time to take charge of my recently inherited role as Archbaron. As the Inferno Gate technically resides within my domain, responsibility for its continued rulership falls to me.

Part of that mandate has been the organisation of the Infernal forces we have brought forth to restore Order to Westcrown. It has been a true pleasure to set my ever-growing legions upon this most important of tasks, and to great effect, might I add. High Priest Garestic and Paralictor Chard have been truly helpful as well in pinpointing the critical points of control within the city. Ser Quintus has also served me well as a troubleshooter. Once we are done with our mission, I have a mind to take him on for my personal retinue, as Father Dexsius no longer seems to have need of his services.

My comrades have not been idle, of course. Lord Vipostix regales me with their exploits in service to the Divine Order, and it would seem they are doing splendidly. Much of the Reclamation’s heresy has been cleansed, with but a few blemishes left to scrub.

One such blemish was brought not just to their attention, but mine. The Dorjanala, a place of both Chelish royal history and a beacon of Arodenite faith, remains an obstacle to the complete dedication of Westcrown to its rightful masters. We recognised this to be the work of Bellinia Dorjana, the Chelaxian high priestess of Iomedae, known as the Silvereye for her rather unique blessing. To complete our work, we would have to remove her.

Much as I respect my allies, they lack the understanding of this mission’s significance, knowledge that I possess. They surely see this as another rebel attempting to defy Hell, but that is an oversimplification of the ritual at play. High Priestess Dorjana, blessed with the vision and role that she has, surely understands that the Divine Order’s blessing requires not just the authority of Hell, but the submission of Heaven. As the Inheritor of Aroden’s will, it is Iomedae’s responsibility to formally complete the transfer of ownership. Likewise, as the descendant of Chelish royalty, it is High Priestess Dorjana’s responsibility to formally cede Westcrown to House Thrune. This is a necessary pact for the proper completion of the Pentagram Ritual, one that we must not neglect any further.

For that reason, I chose to join my companions on this particular mission. It is best that I be there to ensure that the transfer of power is completed correctly, after all. Lady Arcatraz, knowledgeable in rituals as she is, opted to leave this one to us, as this was first and foremost a ritual steeped in religious significance.

As always, Mister Kezax took the vanguard, scouting the Dorjanala. The site was unmistakably bathed in the Inheritor’s light, protected not just by its attendants, but by the Lady of Valor herself. The Light within the Shadow made for splendid imagery. It filled me with anticipation for the eclipse that would come.

Temoni’s magic and Othiel’s divinely structured presence ensured that the barriers would not prevent our arrival. None greeted us, though the sounds of prayer emanated from the conservatory. High Priestess Dorjana and her acolytes surely expected our arrival, and had wasted no time in preparing the site of the ritual.

Before we could join them, Othiel declared our arrival with a wail of ecstasy, a cry that alerted us to the presence of other guests. A group of wolf-like beings were waiting in one of the side rooms. I’ve long understood the symbolism of hounds as the guardians of thresholds. So many times, even going as far back as the rebels in Longacre and my very first mission upon returning from my pilgrimage, they have been a symbol of my taking a step into a new phase. Clearly, these beings, so far from home, served a similar purpose.

As I got to work completing the first stage of the ritual, Father Dexsius continued to the conservatory. In that moment, he faced the next test, one that challenged his strength of devotion. Much like House Thrune, thrice he was damned with the words of Destruction, and then struck with the fires of perdition. An unworthy representative would have surely perished, but Father Dexsius did not falter in the face of this test. I thank the Divine Order to have granted me such a stalwart ally, as I can think of none better to hold its virtues with such unrelenting determination.

As Father Dexsius held his ground and I tended to the hound-men, Paraduke Kennari and Mister Kezax saw to the attendants at our rear. Surely, as representatives of the Inheritor, a test of strategic acumen would be needed, so an ambush ought to be expected. The priests divided our battle with walls of blades, leaving Othiel with me and the Paraduke with his summoned earth elemental and Mister Kezax to support him. Clearly, the next test would be whether we could be divided and conquered, as surely the servants of the Divine Order would maintain unity at all times. The High Priestess sought proof by attempting to remove some of Father Dexsius’ protective magic. The Paraduke, despite being obstructed, still came to his ally’s aid and denied this, once more proving our righteousness.

For the next test, Father Dexsius would have his faith tested. The hound-men, satisfied with my performance but needing to prevent interference for this stage, covered the corridor with sleet. This allowed High Priestess Dorjana to focus her attention on the Asmodaean. She struck him with a powerful word of magic that could not be refuted. Under any other circumstance, no mortal could withstand such an utterance. Here, it was not Father Dexsius’ personal strength that was tested, but his faith. By invoking Lord Asmodeus against impossible odds, he proved his devotion, and in doing so, averted certain death.

If there was any doubt left in Father Dexsius’ worthiness as an avatar of Hell’s authority, it was snuffed out in that moment.

The hound-men departed in that moment for the conservatory, which made clear that it was my turn to join in the next test. Paraduke Kennari was kind enough to remove the storm that raged, giving me passage to join Father Dexsius. There, I saw a ghaele azata poised to strike at him. Perhaps some might question why filth from Elysium would enter such a place of sacred Order, but its purpose was clear. Just as Desxius proved that the Divine Order must hold firm against all challenges, I needed to prove that we are able to strike back at the nefarious forces that would erode us. After the magnificent performances thus far, I could not be lacking. I was not, and my sword struck as true as it should.

By this point, Paraduke Kennari and Mister Kezax had done enough with the rear guard to leave what remained to the elemental and join us in the conservatory to begin the offensive. We had done admirably thus far, but the test was not yet done. High Priestess Dorjana called forth magic befitting Iomedae’s representative. None save Othiel and myself, as servants who recognise the Inheritor’s graceful role within the Divine Order, were granted the next privilege: an audience with Iomedae herself!

Brief as it was, I could not allow the opportunity to go to waste. I pledged before the Lady my undying devotion to the cause of the Divine Order, that I would see the mission she had set before us to completion. Her High Priestess, who so graciously offered herself as the sacrifice for such an important ritual, would be handled with the utmost respect, and soon I would see to it that Her chosen Alexeara Cansellarion is properly shepherded into the Divine Order, as she so clearly wished. Exalted as I was, I was unable to register the words she spoke to me, though I need not hear them to know their contents. I have not a shred of doubt in my mind that she is proud of the services I have done for her and the Divine Order.

When I returned to the plane of mortals, Othiel was still wrapped in his communion. As a celestial himself, I understand his desire to remain in that blessed place for a while longer.

While I had been speaking to the Inheritor, the clerics had turned their attention to the Paraduke. Though the strength of his devotion is admirable, the depth of his faith are not as profound as that of Father Dexsius nor I, so while he passed, it was with some difficulty. Fortunately, in his wisdom he used the last of his strength to join Father Dexsius, who returned him to form. The Divine Order is a testament that a whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and so too is a band of comrades greater than any one agent.

Contributions from Father Dexsius, Mister Kezax, and even Miss Zylstra brought an end to the test, ending the attendant clerics. I personally saw to the azata. A single hound-man pledged itself to its new purpose, and was generously taken in by Lord Vipostix. A single cleric remained in the main hall, keeping Tayapket and the Paraduke’s elemental preoccupied so as not to disrupt the final ritual.

With all of her trials completed, all that remained for High Priestess Dorjana was to submit to the final stage that would mark the complete transition of power. Naturally to prevent any mishaps, I took measures to ensure that any involuntary reflexes such as a flailing limb would not interfere. Mister Kezax was kind enough to assist; bolts make excellent stakes.

As Father Dexsius is our representative of Lord Asmodeus, apex deity of the Divine Order’s hierarchy and recipient of the ritual’s charge, it was appropriate that he oversee the ritual. I merely uttered words of thanks to the Blessed Hierarchy for this glorious evolution. Every Duke of Hell bore witness through the stained glass as the Inheritor’s light relinquished its hold over the ancient bastion to the Infernal Masters.

Once before, at the Winter Grove, we heard the approving voice of the Dark Prince, and now, we were granted the wondrous gift of hearing it again, as he claimed the High Priestess’ soul in honour of the new pact finally sealed upon Westcrown. Never before have I witnessed such a beautiful sight or heard such beautiful cries! I pray only that I might see it again, to bless us when we complete our quest and I am finally able to elevate Lady Cansellarion to her rightful place beside me as a fellow herald of the Divine Order!

GM's Notes: This ended up being a pretty long fight, with a final narrated conclusion in the final session as Dexsius pulled his sequence of debuffs and damnations for the final ritual. In-game, this took place on new year's day, while IRL the fight spanned our own new year, an amusing detail.

As you might have noticed, I brought Dom back to narrate this one. The party specifically requested to bring him along, and it felt appropriate given the subject matter. He spent most of the fight tearing apart the adlets (this campaign really loves throwing dogs at you in one form or another; the fact that these ones were basically proto-Yaros from our Starfinder game was a funny anecdote I didn't really acknowledge in the journal). Then he had one opportunity to come in and save Dexsius from a rare instance of a creature that could hurt him (the azata), and he immediately got a crit. His blade did not falter indeed. I love it when the dice play along.

If you're wondering what hit Dexsius in that surprise attack when he opened the conservatory doors, it was three Destructions and a Flame Strike. I had all the enemies in this fight pre-buff, and I slapped the Divine Guardian template on ol' Silvereye. That plus a few spell adjustments made the fight a proper challenge for this monster of a party. The ambush attack would have downed literally any other party member, and Dexsius only made it because he made every single save (he is admittedly really good at not failing saves). It couldn't have played out more perfectly.

As for the other thing that nearly killed him, that was Silvereye hitting him with Power Word Kill while he was still weakened by all the heavy spells. By RAW he would have died, but I allowed him to use his Divine Interference to force Silvereye to reroll her spell penetration against his SR, and he used the highest level spell in his repertoire to drop the check. Even with that, she only barely failed, but it made for a perfect moment as Asmodeus came in and denied what was probably the single strongest act of aggression Dex has ever received.

Paraduke Kennari almost dying was a case of him eating an Implosion spell from Silvereye and being left at exactly staggered. He used it to dimensional slide over to Dex. I also wanted to include the mention of his horrid wilting spell on the garden, which was both an effective attack and a cool narrative moment in the fight against this site's blessings, but I couldn't quite fit it organically in the journal's flow, so I'll just mention it here.

Finally, that bit about Dom seeing Iomedae was Silvereye casting Overwhelming Presence, which affected Dom and Othiel. I reflavoured it as her literally invoking Iomedae to come down and smack some sense into these corrupted individuals. Then Dom rolled a nat20 on his very next save against the effect, so I played it as him being so deep in his corruption that he bragged to Iomedae about how he was going to kill her high priestess and corrupt her mortal herald, and declared it as her bidding. Literally left her baffled. That was another pretty special moment at the table. As for Othiel, he didn't make a single save, so he was just stuck there struggling against his conditioning the whole time.

Something that was funny in game but didn't make for good journal text was the one remaining cleric at the front entrance. By the time I decided the fight was over (all the clerics had left were a bunch of healing spells, and I didn't want to prolong the inevitable at that point), he was still doing fairly well health-wise. However, he was stuck in an endless loop. The earth elemental was knocking him into a wall and forcing him to fall prone, then attacking him when he got up, just to do it again on the next round. Tubthumping by Chumbawamba may have been referenced in response to this situation.

Anyway, for the next segments we've decided that we'll skip a couple of the side missions and just do the noble intrigue and bridge fights before moving on to the final dungeon. The duxotar and prison barge missions will essentially be a narrated segment of what Dom, Quintus, and the NPCs have been doing while the main party's been busy. Might be a while yet before the next journal, but we are starting to see a light at the end of this infernal tunnel!

[Trichotome]

25/04/23 - Intermission - Jailbreak Part 1
Oathday, 31st Kuthona, Qatada Nessudidia, Westcrown, Longmarch

I know I know, it must feel like an eternity has passed since I’ve last regaled you with a tale of our conquest. Fortunately, time is irrelevant to a planar creature such as myself, so I am very much unbothered by this delay. The conclusion is all but inevitable at this point, after all.

Still, it would not do for me to leave you completely unsated as the threads of fate untangle this mess and see it resume, so instead, allow me to offer a couple stories that occurred previously, beyond more attentive eyes.

You may have noticed that several players in this game of ours have been conspicuously missing. Dominus, my dear pawn, did not make an appearance at the Obrigan Gate, nor did he contribute to the escort of the Taldan Ambasador. So too has the loyal knight Quintus been absent. You would certainly be forgiven for thinking High Priest Garestic and Paralictor Gonville Chard, being mere secondary characters in this tale, were inconsequential, but it would be an error nonetheless. Then of course, there is the matter of all of the many undeclared devils and cultists, and even less known kobolds under Kezax’s command. These hordes are oft forgotten, but in the case of the kobolds, this is by design; do not forget who it is that leads them, after all.

In truth, all of these pieces had their parts to play in this game of ours. Much of it administrative, of course. It is not as though the populace of Westcrown can be trusted to keep themselves in line while the primary agents are busy with more significant objectives. They have already shown themselves to be unruly and willing to bend for whatever master might come into their presence. It would simply not do to leave a vacuum behind. Still, that is not the part of which I wish to speak in this little aside.

Rather, I thought it interesting to tell a tale about a couple more significant systemic tasks that were undertaken by our rear guard. The first of these is the cleansing of the Ducotrion.

Ah, right, I believe we’ve established previously that you may yet lack the vernacular to recognise such a title. The Ducotrion is the headquarters of the dottari. In more vulgar parlance, it is the primary station of the guard. Since the Glorious Reclamation took hold of Westcrown, the organisation has been taken over by a half-elf named Ariende Jharnavar. Much to our simultaneous irritation and amusement, Duxotar Jharnavar is an efficient commander. In but a matter of weeks, his work has done much to rectify the mismanagement of decades of inept leadership.

Were his focus solely on the dottari’s incompetence and corruption, there may have been a case to convert the man. In fact, under a less pressing timeline, I might even have enjoyed adding him to my collection. Capable summoners are rare, and quite useful. Regrettably, his most interesting facet is also the one that makes such an endeavour problematic: the patronage of his bonded angel, the one so presumptuously titled “Righteousness”.

To an inhabitant of the Outer Planes such as myself, an eidolon is a curious thing. It is a greater commitment than answering a simple summon, but less so than answering a calling. We do not invest our whole selves into the service of the summoner, but we do bestow unto them a great deal of power as well as the autonomy to direct that power themselves. That is not to say we have no influence at all, of course, but it is an implicit understanding that we are giving the summoner the authority to use our gifts as they see fit. You can think of it as us making an investment in a particularly promising individual and hoping that they will use our contribution in a manner that suits our interests.

As you might imagine, I am not overly fond of the practice. The notion of leaving my power unattended in the hands of some lesser being is thoroughly unappealing. The minds of mortals are far too malleable to entrust with anything of value. I know this better than anyone. Gambles like that are for those too undisciplined to forge their own success. No, I much prefer the manual approach. If you’ve taken measures to mould your subject properly, then you can always be certain that they will do exactly what is required of them, no matter the circumstances. I would hope that Dominus has suitably demonstrated just why my method is so effective.

…

What relevance, you might ask, does this have to do with the mission to reclaim the Ducotrion? Why, it is to illustrate one simple point. It is important that you understand why my methods are superior to those used by the Duxotar’s patron saint. Not only will it be the key difference that spells victory here, but also in another tale I will tell in the future. Fear not, you’ll understand in due time.

In any case, back to the story.

Entering the Ducotrion itself was a trivial matter. With the city all but completely overrun with our servants, the guard was spread dreadfully thin. Even if they did not underestimate the wrath of Hell, they had no means to safeguard themselves against it. Perhaps they even believed that we might ignore them in favour of higher profile objectives. Well, in a sense that is true. We didn’t send our main force to deal with them. Still, we’ve been careful in cultivating enough resources that we can afford to be thorough, and I am not one to leave loose ends.

All of that to say, Dominus, Quintus, and the Paralictor, flanked by the unseen lizard armies of the dragon’s retinue, simply walked through the front door. And my, what an arrival it was!

I confess, there was a small measure of amusement in finding that the clerk at the front desk was a pacifist Sarenite. Someone naive enough to follow the goddess of redemption had no place in an establishment of Lawful punishment. My dear minion knew exactly what was to be done. If the boy loved his mistress of flames so much, he should appreciate being immolated. In return for this gift, his howls of exaltation made for a fine alarm bell. Subtlety would only prolong the inevitable.

Much of the garrisoned dottari fell to our might swiftly. Hellknight Chard saved some time by dealing with the training group personally. No doubt, he had a score to settle with his supposed former comrades in law enforcement. Whatever the case may be, it left only the Duxotar to be dealt with.

Under normal circumstances, I’m certain this Jharnavar and his eidolon might have been some challenge. He was not a wholly unqualified soldier, as I’ve previously attested, and the eidolon so-called Righteousness was formidable in strength. However, this is where the key difference between his patron and I manifests, and I do mean “manifest”.

Perhaps those of you with some measure of cleverness might have already come to realise why my influence over Dominus is preferable to forming a summoner’s pact. What makes my power immutable and reliable.

Simply put, the power I channel through my servants cannot be dismissed.

The magical gauntlets gifted to Dominus by the Order of the Godclaw were a fine artifact, and quite useful in this moment when our arcanists were preoccupied with other matters. Quickened Dismissal is a very worthy enchantment, and its application was perfect for illustrating the moral of this tale. In a mere moment, the angel supporting Jharnavar was removed from the equation, leaving the summoner to fend for himself. Unfortunately for him, he relied far too much on the support of others, and so was helpless alone. Between the prodding stabs of swarming kobolds, a few well-placed arcane shots, and a final crushing hammer, the Duxotar was in pieces well before his patron saint could even consider how to intervene.

Would our agents have prevailed nonetheless? Almost certainty, but that isn’t the point. My angelic adversary here made a critical error, that being a lack of diligence, and it cost them any chance at victory. Their influence was ephemeral, tethered only through a vulnerable magical connection, whereas I was thorough. I always take great pains to ensure that no matter the circumstances, my servants are always of service to me. My will pervades them inexorably, and will do so forever.

That self-reliance, my dear audience, is the reason I will always be victorious.

GM's Notes: Yeah, this is a very slow process. In the time since the cleric battle, I managed to have a single full session, though I haven't posted it yet since we only got through about half of the bridge encounter. I did have some narrative sessions with two of my players in between where I laid out what was happening with the NPCs in the meantime, which is what I've written here. The prison barge was supposed to be included as well, but we never fully went into that one.

At this point, I'm leaning towards finishing the bridge fight and then jumping directly to the final fight in the hopes of just completing the campaign. I still refuse to give up this close to the end, but I'd like to actually see it to its conclusion at last.

In the meantime, I did start playing another campaign (Rise of the Runelords). The time slot and group make me think this one will be more reliable, so I'm looking forward to it. It's also the first time my wife's trying out Pathfinder as well, so that's exciting! I'll almost certainly be writing a journal for that one too, but I'm waiting to have enough material to actually have an entry to write.

[brownly]

Trichotome wrote:

As you may have noticed, this campaign has been on hiatus for...A while.

Long story short, the GM was no longer in form to run it routinely, and despite his efforts to do so anyway, it ultimately became clear that it wasn't working. So with his blessing I've taken over as the GM to bring this story to its conclusion... And just as we were about to start up again one of our players lost their computer.

That issue has now been resolved, and we can resume once more. Since I'm taking more of a back seat as a GMPC, we also brought back Arcatraz to round out the team. This session was mainly a session 0, but I included the little bit of context for what Archie was up to while she was away.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the grand finale of this campaign, because I am determined to see this one to the end!

24/01/05 - Session 64 - Revelation and Return
Wealday, 16th Kuthona, Archive of Redacted Histories, Warlock Island

For too long, this tale lies dormant, awaiting its reawakening.
Consider this the wake-up call. Hell is waiting.

You are perhaps wondering who I am, and what has become of that lovable psychopath Dominus Fex? True, my dearest and most successful project is normally tasked with reciting the exploits of Cheliax’s reconquering through his magnificently twisted perspective. For now however, he is taking a well deserved rest, and I, his humble handler, will graciously take on the task. I go by Vipostix, Deimavigga Principale and Arch Adjudicator of Celestial Acquisitions, though just Vipostix is sufficient here. You needn't concern yourself with any further details. Just relax and enjoy the story.

When last we left them, the Queen’s chosen agents had felled the Cult of Geryon and the Order of the Glyph in order to burn the contents of the Archive of Redacted Histories. They did so in order to secure the “ashes of history”, a key ingredient in a rather potent weapon.

Incidentally if you're curious, no, Lord Geryon cares little for this transgression against his...

I think he is right <a href="https://minecrftpatch.com/" target="_blank" rel="follow">Right!</a></p>

[brownly]

Trichotome wrote:

As you may have noticed, this campaign has been on hiatus for...A while.

Long story short, the GM was no longer in form to run it routinely, and despite his efforts to do so anyway, it ultimately became clear that it wasn't working. So with his blessing I've taken over as the GM to bring this story to its conclusion... And just as we were about to start up again one of our players lost their computer.

That issue has now been resolved, and we can resume once more. Since I'm taking more of a back seat as a GMPC, we also brought back Arcatraz to round out the team. This session was mainly a session 0, but I included the little bit of context for what Archie was up to while she was away.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the grand finale of this campaign, because I am determined to see this one to the end!

24/01/05 - Session 64 - Revelation and Return
Wealday, 16th Kuthona, Archive of Redacted Histories, Warlock Island

For too long, this tale lies dormant, awaiting its reawakening.
Consider this the wake-up call. Hell is waiting.

You are perhaps wondering who I am, and what has become of that lovable psychopath Dominus Fex? True, my dearest and most successful project is normally tasked with reciting the exploits of Cheliax’s reconquering through his magnificently twisted perspective. For now however, he is taking a well deserved rest, and I, his humble handler, will graciously take on the task. I go by Vipostix, Deimavigga Principale and Arch Adjudicator of Celestial Acquisitions, though just Vipostix is sufficient here. You needn't concern yourself with any further details. Just relax and enjoy the story.

When last we left them, the Queen’s chosen agents had felled the Cult of Geryon and the Order of the Glyph in order to burn the contents of the Archive of Redacted Histories. They did so in order to secure the “ashes of history”, a key ingredient in a rather potent weapon.

Incidentally if you're curious, no, Lord Geryon cares little for this transgression against his...

Visit Now minecrftpatch.com