| Stip |
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I wanted to add in at least one scene with Vorlesh so the PCs could start to build a relationship with her. so their first night out in the worldwound I had her kidnap them and take them to Undarian so they could have dinner together. It was an incredible scene - the highlight of book 3 for the PCs thus far. I've made some fairly substantial changes to the larger metaplot (I've discussed some of them in the threads with the prologues and cut scenes). Of note for this scene is that the PCs connection to the wardstone directly connects them to Iomedae (given the intervention of the Herald - stuff that will become plot essential in books 5 and 6 that I want to foreshadow now. She wants to see if the PCs can kill some of her rivals in the Worldwound as she makes her own bid for divinity at the end (but doesn't want to directly anger deskari until she is strong enough to defeat him or move past him), and the PCs are now wondering if she is responsible for their mythic status.
The intro text is below, as well as some responses to likely questions I had pre-scripted, though it was a wide ranging conversation, and she was a lot of fun to RP (note that this Vorlesh is much more restrained and in control - taking inspiration from the Vorlesh artwork for the WOTR video game, which I have sadly not had time to play yet - though this entire sequence is inspired in part by the great work Owlcat did making Nyrissa a character in Kingmaker)
My Dinner With Areelu Vorlesh
22 Lamashan, 4723 Undarian
You break for the evening, preparing to make camp, keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings. It is your first time spending an evening alone in the Worldwound without being surrounding by an army of paladins, and your senses are hyper vigilant. You had forgotten the vile toxicity of the Worldwound, after spending weeks under the protection of the Sword of Valor. The dusk is cold, and the sunset has a putrid yellow and orange glow. The air smells of rot and corruption, and in the distance the silence is broken by intermittent howls and screams. You do not know what’s out there, and after some discussion, you decline to make a fire, opting for cold rations and cold bodies rather than draw unnecessary attention to yourselves.
You all feel a distant tugging, and then an implacable force seizes hold of you. You try to resist it, but you are hopelessly overmastered, and your bodies begin to grow translucent. There is a flash of purple, a surprisingly sweet scent—distantly familiar notes of ginger, cinnamon, and vanilla, and you vanish.
An instant later you stand at the entrance of a huge, ornate dining room. An immaculate red and purple carpet lies beneath your feet, and behind and in front of you are beautifully carved sets of wooden doors. Two human sized figured dressed in chitinous green plate, holding scythes, stand at either side.
Enormous stained-glass windows depict exquisitely crafted scenes of Deskari triumphing over his enemies. The dead god Aroden, his ancient foe, seems to be a common subject, though all the Gods supporting the crusades are present. Various statues and vases of Sarkorian design are arranged on plinths between the windows, and a massive chandelier hangs from the vaulted 50 foot ceilings. You take a moment to clear your head. This doesn’t appear to be a dream. Several lifesized and impressively realistic statues of finely dressed human servants stand at attention along the wall. You blink, and realize that these aren’t statues at all – just people standing perfectly still. As you look closer, you can see that while their faces are composed, their eyes look absolutely terrified, and their foreheads are beaded in sweat. Two cavernous fireplaces are centered along the eastern and western wall, their flames well fed, giving the space a cozy feel that belies the petrifying dread in the air. In the center of the room is a massive table with six table settings.
But your eyes are drawn in horror to the head of the table, where, sitting comfortably in an elegant high-backed throne, is Areelu Vorlesh.
Even from the other side of the massive, opulent chamber, and without magical senses, you can feel arcane might emanating from her in overwhelming waves. You sense, instinctively, that her power dwarfs that of Iomadae’s Herald, Terendelev, even the Storm King. You feel frozen in place, not due to any magical commandment, simply locked down by your own fear.
She stands, gracefully unfolding her wings as she does, moving with a sinister, controlled ease that is exhilarating and terrifying to observe. She wears a beautifully tailored burgundy dress, masterfully cut to show off her perfect figure without revealing it. Her horns are encircled with intricately engraved silver bands, her arms covered in tattoos of Sarkorian design, and she wears a platinum crown and diadem, each bearing a giant ruby. Her lustrous auburn hair cascades down her back, and the rune of Deskari upon her chest glows a fierce purple. She shows no signs of the terrible wounds inflicted upon her by the wardstone. Her scent is exotic, exciting, and you find yourself compelled to please her despite your revulsion. She places the book she was reading carefully, delicately, upon the table. You do not recognize the language in which it is written. She favors you with a resplendent smile, warm and inviting, but it does not reach her piercing red eyes - which take you in with a calculating, deconstructing gaze that evaluates your worth at an elemental level and find you utterly wanting.
Vorlesh speaks, her voice warm and full of honeyed menace, every word simultaneously an invitation, promise, and threat.
“So we finally meet in the flesh, Order of the Silver Scale. Welcome to Undarian, and my home. Please, join me for dinner.”
With her invitation, a dark purple imp appears from the shadows, perched on top of Vorlesh’s throne. It is clad in leather armor, its face obscured by a mask. Glowing dull green lines form highlights on its wings. It clutches a gleaming war razor with a carved bone handle, as it tracks every one of your moments.
You glance at the long mahogany table, also of Sarkorian design. The outer doors open, and servants rush in, laying out a sumptuous feat with masterful precision. You note, with some alarm, that the banquet consists entirely of your favorite foods, details Vorlesh should not know. Lobster, lamb stew, shepard’s pie, ramen noodles, eel pie, steaming potato bread with chunks of Manchego cheese. Other servants’ wheel in carts laden with an impressive selection of wines, meads, and ales, as well as a collection of finely crafted pipes and pouches of expensive weeds and herbs. The servants lay the table and depart with clockwork efficiency. Vorlesh looks at you expectantly.
“I assure you, you may relax. If I wanted you dead, it would be over before you could even blink an eye. I find you intriguing, and would know more of the brave Crusaders so intent on resisting the inevitable. Tonight you are my guests. Surely we can be civilized together.” And with that, the hold she had over you lifts, and she sits back down upon her chair.
Vorlesh gestures to one of the servants standing along the wall, who hurries over to fill her bowl with delicious smelling ramen. The servant waits for a moment to see what else her mistress may require before retreating back to her position. Other servants’ approach each of you, waiting to learn what you desire. Behind their composed features is absolute panic. Vorlesh looks at you, expectantly.
“It would be terribly impolite for the hostess to start before her guests, but I do not wish for the food to get cold”
(PC’s refuse to eat)
Vorlesh nods her head, and a different set of doors open. Several more guards, decked out in the same chitinous plate, escort in 6 more servants, dressed in finally made servants clothes and well crafted aprons. Queso, you stare in horror as you realize one of them is your mother. “I went to great expense to bring these fine chefs here to create your favorite delicacies. If you refuse to eat you insult them, you insult me, and there will be consequences.” The cooks stand at loose attention, shaking with fear and low, quiet moans of terror. “Alternately, we can enjoy our meal together, and they will be returned to their homes, unharmed. I give you my word.”
(PCs place their order)
Vorlesh picks up a spoon, and with remarkably fluid poise, begins to eat. She swallows, and looks at Kiryn appreciatively. This is really quite lovely. I can see why it is a favorite of yours. Now, what to talk about. I propose a question for a question.
Some Q+A
What does Vorlesh want/Why does She serve Deskari/Will She Betray Him?
I was wronged by the small minded bigots of Sarkoris. They sought to imprison me within that accursed tower. The planer boundaries are thin here, between Golarion and the Rasping Rifts in particular. And in exchange for opening a door for him, Lord Deskari gave me the means for my revenge.
I do not serve him because I care about chasms, or swarms. He is a source of power, a means to my own ends. He is a demon lord, not a God. He cares not for the faith or belief of those who serve him. Merely their obedience, and their value. And I am my Lord’s most valuable of servants
And I respect the Abyss. At its heart, it is raw chaos, and chaos is nothing but potential waiting for the application of will. And my will is very, very strong.
I have had my revenge. Sarkoris is no more. Your paltry crusade means nothing to me. One does not swear revenge against ants at a picnic. One simply eliminates the nuisance if they misbehave. No, I am after so much more, and Deskari will help me achieve it, whether he realizes it or not.
On Morality?
Good and evil are fairy tales for children. These are just the words we apply to rationalize our action, legitimate our privilege, or excuse our weakness. I am not evil. What I am, my friends, is ambitious.
Let us imagine a time 10,000 years from now – a year for every person I would kill to achieve my ends, without a moments hesitation. 10,000 years from now no one will recall a single one of their names, or the tiniest detail of their lives. It is like they would have never lived at all. But 10,000 years from now they will know me, what I have done, what I will do. And so what price is actually paid, when the currency I spend is worthless.
Why do you resist (to the PCs)?
Do you know where demons come from? They come from sin. They are our darkest desire made flesh. Unless you can eliminate want and need from the mortal experience across all of the planes demons will remain. We are just the honest truth of mortality reflected without lies or veil.
On the PCs New Powers?
I find your ignorance slightly offensive. You have no idea of the sacrifices that were made to grant you your power. To not comprehend the grand design or to be unaware of its purpose can be forgiven. But to not even be curious? If I had created you, I would be terribly disappointed.
Here – I will gift you some knowledge. True Gods, and to a lesser extent demon lords, are conduits of raw power. Whereas an arcane practitioner rips their magic from the fabric of the universe, the God shares theirs out, in infinitesimally small portions, a bribe to their followers in exchange for their devotion. It is an honest trade. I do not begrudge the deity the exchange, though I have little patience for the sanctimony of the recipient. (She looks at Rischa and Kiryn) – would you bow if not for the gifts you receive?
The more power the god grants, the stronger the connection. A god’s most powerful servitors are drawing upon their energy constantly in a perpetual flow. And the wardstones were an immensely powerful conduit to Iomedae. Their destruction destroyed that connection, but a considerable portion lies within you.
Why are you telling us this?
Because I want you to be successful. I have amassed all the power I need to achieve my own designs. The game the Herald played with the wardstones may have disrupted my initial plans, but this new timeline is a blessing in disguise.
Every ally is also a potential rival, a future threat. So I invite you to try and stop Deskari. By all means, get as far as you can. Xanthir Vang, Minhago, Hepzimirah, Aponavicius, Anemora, the Storm King, Baphomet. Every one of them you manage to eliminate is one less awkward conversation between myself and my Lord. By all means, get as far as you can. I applaud the effort
Will you help us?
I am standing aside. The rest is up to you.
We will stop you
Vorlesh laughs. That’s adorable. The full force of the wardstone’s power caught me unawares and couldn’t destroy me. What makes you think you can possibly do the same with the diminished fragment you carried with you. There is only one way this ends, and the only question of relevance is how useful you wish to make yourself to me before it is over.
If at any point you pose even the tiniest threat to my plans I will end this game, and you, in an instant.
Farewell
Thank you for the evening’s conversation. I shall watch your efforts with great interest, and I wish you all the best in all (she stops and smiles), well most of your endeavours. Before we depart, let me offer you a final motivation, to ensure you do your best”
Vorlesh nods her head, and the doors open once again. Several more guards, decked out in the same chitinous plate, escort Queso’s mother back into the room.
With that, Vorlesh reaches into her pocket, and takes out a beautiful black gem. She pauses for a moment, gazing upon it appreciatively, taking the time to savour a beautiful thing. Then she looks up and speaks an arcane word. With a surprised squeak, queso’s mother collapses, and a thin silvery strand is pulled from her body and sucked into the black gem.
She stares at you with a flat intensity. “Come and claim her, if you can”. And faster than you can track, she casts a spell – there is another purple flash, a hint of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla, and you are back at your camp.
| Mightypion |
Well, its act 2, are beginning to storm Drezen and well:
One PC, who got saved by a Sucubus as a Kid (she was essentially a mercenary) has uncovered a lore of Cyric thrice damned, a Lich who wished for "Nocticula as my puppet" and got a hand signed Talking doll in Nocticulas shape. Said Doll later destroyed his phylactery as he was battling adventurers, Midnights vengeance is always amusing.
The chaotic neutral Skald alcoholic "Crusade commander" Askold "Beerfiend" Magnusson, who think that him being crusade commander is clear proof that the forces of good are totally losing it, has acquired said puppet, used his very high knowledge planes to find out what Nocticulas favorite cocktail is (B-69), poured the puppet this exact cocktail, put a map showing drezen according to crusader scouts next to it, left the room, an returned to find some empty cocktail glasses, a wishlist (He does not know what the "Moscow" in "Moscow Mule" is for, and it also confused that a "Cai-Piranha" has nothing to do with carnivorous fish, but he can mix either) and very accurate entries of demon and cultist positions.