[PF] Wrath of the Righteous [Alpha Team]

[dream]

Wrath of the Righteous

" 'Tis Fate that slings the dice,
And as she flings,
Of kings make peasants,
And of peasants kings."
~ Miammir, 'The Scholar of Blackwing'



"Since the first days of the Worldwound, Kenabres has answered the
call to action demanded by the coming of the fiends. We opened
our gates to refugees despite the danger. We tracked down demons
hiding in the guise of men and set them alight with righteous flame.
Still, the tide of fiends never ceases. They surge pitilessly toward our
shining border, that churning throng of creatures clamoring for
virtuous blood. Kenabres is the bulwark behind which we throw our
weight. The wardstone is our shield and also our greatest weapon. As
long as Kenabres stands, we will keep the demons trapped, and our
crusaders shall ride forth and put an end to their foul existence.”
— Onevere Worin, City Defender of Kenabres

16 Arodus
0900 hours
76 °F


A city of glory, Kenabres glitters in the early morning light of a golden sun as its thousands of residents, and hundreds of visitors, strive to meet the day Iomedae grants. It is Armasse: a week-long celebration of the fallen god, Aroden, which remains one of the most-revered traditions among the followers of Iomedae. While primarily a time of scholarly exploration and spiritual renewal, Armasse has come to be a holiday filled with revelry. Local merchants and politicians wont complain, as the swell of visitors to the city brings much-welcomed wealth. Locals set-up numerous carts and shops to market their products or talents to travelers seeking the hallowed wonderment of Kenabres.

The streets get packed very early: fishermen with their poles headed for West Sellen River; myriad priests pacing the crowds preaching their revelations to all within earshot; foreign scholars wander the city with books marking Kenabres' historical importances; nobles with their entourages glide among the commoners taking in the festive environment; families stroll across the city taking note of merchants and merriment; stray children dash about seeking fun in all its forms; Kenabres city guard, adorned in ceremonial armor, patrol city districts with large, vigilant units; and thieves --- yes, the rogues of the region have also flocked to Armasse seeking to find their booty, by any means necessary.

Armasse comes but once a year, but it is a special time for all involved, primarily the faithful of Iomedae. It is this large group that dots the terrain of Kenabres, making sure everyone knows the "true meaning" of this occasion. The celebration brings with it events, such as contests of strength, speed, endurance, and warcraft. Also, included are ballads sponsored by local crusaders looking to both entertain and educate audiences. There will also be training events, where people can be familiarized with the martial arts by skilled instructors drawn from a collection of locals and visiting warriors.

The city is electrified by vibrant crowds, amusing music, smell of delicious foods, teachings of priests and scholars, as well as the various colorful banners waving in the air above the streets. One has trouble walking in a straight manner for all the people of some many races and places now rambling about Kenabres. For a city that has endured so much over the years, this is definitely a grand moment! A moment that culminates in the noontime Armasse commencement address by Kenabres' beloved prelate, Hurlun Shappok, renowned demonbane knight of old. On the streets of the mythic city, people bump, bribe, and belittle the PCs: you see, here in Kenabres, all who enter are in .... for a penny, or a pound.

Spoiler: Map

Show

[Kish]

Tall and handsome, albeit with a face that doesn't smile easily, Matai has little trouble pushing his way through the crowds. Lecturing on Iomedae or Aroden would likely just annoy them, he reflects, glancing at the two following him. "We should make sure to hear the commencement address," he says. In the meantime, he tries to take in a sampling of everything at the festival, paying attention to his companions' reactions; if they seem to be paying particular attention to a ballad, he'll linger in that area; if they show particular interest in a contest he'll suggest that the group can participate; if they seem particularly interested in a type of food he'll buy some of it, remaining in motion or suggesting sitting down for a little while to eat depending on the food type. Should either of them ask him a question about Iomedae, Aroden, the basis for the holiday, or indeed the name of the month, he'll exposit with barely restrained enthusiasm.

[daelrog]

Doshk took a swig of his Kumis wineskin, letting a little dribble onto his chin. It was warm. It wasn't a drink that was particularly good warm, but the Kellid Tiefling was distracted by the city. He'd only been here a couple days, and found the city was a lonelier place than the cold, barren steppes he was used to. Out there he had the cold, the wind, the stars. Here it was busy, stifling. All the laughs, all the the merriment, the lovers and families each were a reminder of what Doshk didn't have. He understood the common Taldan dialect well enough, he made a point of learning it, but it did not help him understand their mannerisms and attitudes.

It seemed for every appraising look that said 'good to see one of your kind fight the good fight' there was another that seemed to imply 'watch your back, fiend'. At least the latter was familiar. It was fair enough. He was more than aware that the number of Tiefling disappointments far outnumbered those who became proper heroes, whatever these people considered a proper hero to be. He'd been reminded of it every day of his long childhood that he was a monster, but with proper discipline, and direction he could be a monster that would serve his people. Discipline... it was a word that held a different meaning to the Kellids. Here in this city discipline was keeping stoic, standing still, listening to orders. To the people who raised Doshk, discipline was not being a burden either through weakness or being too unpredictable. Doshk struggled with the second of the two.

Doshk was in Kenebras for two reasons. The first was to determine if he wanted to fight alongside these crusaders. He'd heard anything from begrudging respect to even a small amount of praise for the paladins and knights. He didn't particularly fancy himself in golden armor riding atop a white horse, though the thought amused him. The second reason depending on the answer to his first. If he was going to stay here, then how? If he wasn't, who else could he go to?

He wanted to fight the demons, the blood within him yearned for it. He doubted it was the same as the camaraderie he saw around, but it was at least something.

Doshk slowly made his way through the city, to where this commencement would be held, ignoring to peddlers and merchants as best he could.

[ylvathrall]

Helgi follows along in Matai's wake. He'd started following the larger man more or less by accident, but he's really quite glad it happened. He's been in villages before, many times, but this is something entirely different. Never, in his entire life, has he seen anything close to this any people; looking at the streets it seems more than anything else like an overturned anthill. There is an order to the movement, that's obvious, but it's an order that isn't clear to an outsider. And such variety of people!

Although, in truth, that variety is probably a good thing. It means that he stands out at least a little bit less. Somewhat short, with patchy black fur covering his skin, his face is obviously wolfish, with pointed canine ears and an elongated muzzle. There is something birdlike about him as well, something of the raptor in how he tilts his head to get a better look at all he surveys. Birds see more than anyone, of course, and he wants to see everything just now.

After a few minutes following along with Matai, he feels comfortable enough to ask the question that's been bothering him for days. "Do you know the reason for this...this?" he asks, gesturing broadly to take in the entirety of the scene. He glances at Ragarann to include him in the question as well, although he doubts he will get an answer from that side; this is a question better asked of someone native to this environment. "The pilgrims I traveled with said it was to honor Aroden, but they couldn't explain very well what an Aroden was. Maybe you have a better idea?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Active change shape bonus: +2 racial bonus on all saves.
Active feral focus: Falcon (+4 Perception)

[Kish]

Matai tries not to smile too broadly at the invitation. Careful, need not to push him away... "Aroden was the god who Iomedae served as Herald, before she became a full god herself. He slew many demons, and there was a prophecy that said he would usher in an Age of Glory, but when the time foretold by the prophecy arrived, instead Aroden seemingly died."

Spoiler

Show

He'll add more details as he thinks Helgi is likely to find them inspiring, but since his knowledge of Golarion religious history as it relates to the Church of Iomedae far exceeds his player's, Kish is not sure what those details would be.

[dream]

Matai:

Strolling about almost lost in thought, the cleric finds himself slowed by a couple walking ahead of him; a tall, long-haired Half-Orc in heavy armor with a cape bearing the crest of Iomedae. The companion is a short-haired archer (of some sort, based on the bow and quiver) wearing studded-
leather armor. The two seem very acquainted, chatting with their hands often locking at the fingertips as they walk. Suddenly, they stop and begin speaking loudly to each other, with a mix of finger-pointing! Matai can now see that both of them are female, their expressions seem irritated, and they ramble at each other in some odd, guttural language!

Then, the armored half-orc tosses aside her cape, her gauntlet falling on the hilt of a large, sheathed sword,

"Temptuous gutter-snipe! Why shouldn't I run you through for that blasphemy?!"

Stepping back a bit, the female archer tenses somewhat as the crowds part around you and the couple, displaying worried looks as they pause to watch the unfolding drama ....


Helgi:

The screech of a falcon draws Helgi's attention away from Matai as it come to rest on a nearby flagpole. Surprisingly, the pole bears a waving white banner displaying a purple butterfly: the symbol of Desna! The sight distracts him until a young human female dressed in flowing green robes bumps into the Witchwolf!

"ooOOH! What?! Watch where you're going ... you scruffy thing! Oh!"

The woman begins wiping her robes with her gold ring-laden hands, as if Helgi suddenly made her dirty. She isn't alone: five other young women are with her, all of them surrounding a portly, very well-dressed older human male. The green-robed women
stare at the feral hunter and murmur things to each other under their breaths, while giving him looks of mirth and disgust.

"Ha ha! Now you'll need to see a good healer, Claerna. No telling what he has."

"Yes, and those robes might as well be burned --- their ruined!"

They burst into laughter, as the woman "Helgi" bumped looks down at her robes, then at the hunter in anger! She steps toward him defiantly, raising a menacing hand to strike,

"I never ---!"

The older man shouts a command, stopping the young woman in mid-swing,

"Claerna! Now, now. Every dog is entitled to one bite. Leave him be."

The angry woman stares at Helgi, then returns to the group, which is now standing around him as the older man approaches. He appears to be around sixty, balding, gold rings with precious gems in both ears and on each finger. His clothing is rich and multi-colored, with his outer emerald robe bearing a golden crest resembling twin tree-like pillars. He smells of roses and honey-laced skin cremes.

"Hm. You aren't local, this is plain. Where are you from, boy? The northern wastes? The wilds of the western reaches? You stink of the forest, but I'm not one to judge character on appearances. Are you good with animals? I need an able stable-boy for our estates and I'm thinking you need work, correct? Can you even understand me? What is your name?"

Spoiler: DC10 Nobility check:

Show

He's some sort of noble.

Spoiler: 11-14 result

Show

He's a member of the the Gwerm House of Mendev.

Spoiler: 15+

Show

He is Horgus Gwerm, a well-known and influential local noble with powerful financial
holdings.

Doshk:

Suddenly, from behind the Tiefling,

"Hah! Haaah! Move along there, wisp! MOOOOVE!

Doshk sees a huge barbarian warrior adorned in heavy furs and brandishing two large Greatswords on his chest riding a magnificent white stallion forcing its way through the massive crowds! People shout as the beautiful warhorse mashes through them! Doshk immediately recognizes the barbarian as belonging to a clan that rivals his ---a clan known for its cruelty and avarice! On his face nearly obscured by his large horned helm, the massive, sun-tanned fighter clearly has the scarred brands of his blood-thirty clan; a crude skull symbol! From the ends of both swords hangs a small, metallic chain from which equally small metallic skulls dangle as he rides slowly! The sound of heavy horse-steps and the chime of metal echoes the barbarian's every move as he closes to within 20' of the Tiefling. As he brings the warhorse to a stop, the barbarian eyes the crowd keenly, his gaze finally coming to a stop on Doshk ....!

"Washdog*! Come mind my steed while I dismount .... and make sure to tend his coat in my passing!"

The crowds part away from the two barbarians, onlookers gaping wildly at the fearsome duo as children as snatched closer to their parents ...!

Spoiler: Washdog

Show

Among many of Doshk's regional clans, a "washdog" is a man unfit for battle whose job is the care of dogs and other animals. These men are treated as lesser folk and are the equivalent of slaves in many other cultures! He may recognize Doshk as a rival ....

Spoiler: DC10 Geography check: 10+ result

Show

He's a rival clan barbarian, with a nasty attitude!

Spoiler: 11-14 result

Show

He's a member of a clan that frequently raids other clans like yours, stealing women
and provisions!

Spoiler: 15+

Show

He's a highborn, with influential relatives among his warlike clan that sees all others as
nothing but animals. He will expect your obedience and any resistance will be interpreted
as an insult ...

[ylvathrall]

Helgi tries to follow along with what Matai is telling him. He lacks the context necessary to understand much of the information, but it is still interesting, and he thinks he is learning things about these people. It seems odd to have such a very large mourning celebration, but perhaps the rules are different for gods. Helgi himself has never had to mourn the spirit of anything larger than a tree, so he supposes he wouldn't know how to go about it for a god.

Then, while discussing gods, his attention is caught by a falcon which stoops down and perches on a pole displaying the symbol of Desna. He smiles at that; to send a falcon to him at the moment the topic of gods is discussed, while he himself is embracing the nature of the falcon, is surely no coincidence. Desna must be a powerful god indeed, if she can spare such an omen even for him.

Unfortunately, his attention is distracted by this as a woman runs into him. Helgi listens to the group of them insult him patiently, if not gladly. The accusations are nonsense—he likely keeps himself cleaner than these people do—but he knows better than to argue. This has nothing to do with truth, and everything to do with his own appearance. Similar things have happened often enough that he doesn't even bother to really pay attention to it anymore. Even when she seems about to strike him, he doesn't react. It seems little threat, particularly when he is armed and she is not.

He is glad when the older man steps in, though. He listens patiently as the man talks, and then nods to him. From the way he was obeyed, he is clearly dominant within the group, and the dominant usually like to be recognized as such, even by those who aren't subservient.

"My name is Helgi," he says. "I do come from the forest, but I am not diseased, if that is what you fear. While I appreciate your offer, I do not want to work in a stable, so I will decline. I was trying to have a conversation, so I will be going now."

Helgi then steps around the group and continues. His movements are more sinuous now, almost serpentine. The snake is quicker than any other beast, and he might need quickness now.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Swift action to change Helgi's active feral focus to snake (+2 attack on attacks of opportunity, +2 dodge bonus to AC against attacks of opportunity). If he makes it past the group successfully, he will switch back to falcon.

Knowledge (nobility): (1d20+1)[13] (untrained in this skill, so the highest DC he can get is a 10)

[Metroid33]

Vivian

Vivian awoke early that morning, eager for the parties that always came with Armasse. She had put on her finest sun dress and and clipped on her belt, a small stash of bolts attached to the back. Finally to top it off Vivian tossed a head dress over her hair and marched out into the the morning ready to party. But as she stepped out of the door a voice in her head second guessed everything she had done to prepare. Brushing it off she continued anyways.

The morning moved on ad she went from group to group in the festival areas getting to know people as she went and as they bored her she went and moved on to another. That's how it always was, she would talk to someone and get along and then that little voice would point out the flaws, the dangers in certain people. Getting just a bit annoying and she would move on to someone else. This day was just worst. With so many people it just happened more often in a day. It got to a point where vivian had to go off on her self into an ally and calm down, and talk to the voice.

"Can't a girl have some fun with out being second guessed on every move?" But the little voice didn't respond this time leaving her to feel alone for just a moment. "Thank you." She said getting ready to move out back into the crowds.

[dream]

Vivian:

As she met Kenabres and its visitors, she sees two tall, handsome men, one a silver-haired elf wearing dark blue clothing and a matching cloak, the other a human warrior of some sort wearing decorative chain-mail and a red cape. They stop within a few meters of Vivian and seem to be having an intense discussion. Over the sounds of the crowds, she hears words like,

"... Worldwound .... Riftwardens ... Faxon ... Crusaders ... Blackfire ... Hulrun ... Templars ... Cobelen ..."

The duo nodded to each other and looked around the area, occasionally greeting others who passed-by.

The elvish man takes notice of Vivian and approaches,

"Good day, traveler. Tis a beautiful day Iomedae grants for this Armasse celebration, isn't it? I could be mistaken, but you do not seem familiar to Kenabres. I am Aravashnial, and this is my good friend, Beltran. Where have you traveled from?"

Beltran wanders closer and you find both men eyeing you curiously ....

[Kish]

Not noticing what's going on with his companion, Matai adjusts his holy symbol around his neck to make sure it's immediately visible that he shares a faith with the half-orc woman, and steps forward. "Is there a problem here?" he asks the two women, looking back and forth between them.

[Metroid33]

Be careful here. The voice said in Vivian's head. she looked the two men up ad down making a quick check of them with her eyes. "Well, Aravashnial, I've actually lived here my whole life. Was orphaned pretty young." She said giving him a smile. "I was just a little mentally exhausted. Now I heard you mention Riftwardens so I can only assume your part of the crusade.and before you ask how I know about them I should show you this." Vivian then pulls aside her left strap and shows the two of them the sign of the seeker's spiral. The symbol that had been on her body for aslong as she could remember and the one that was associated with the riftwardens.

[dream]

Matai:

The seemingly-irate half-orc warrior and female archer look at Matai, then at each other. The both of them seem to freeze, then they relax as the half-orc smiles and responds,

"Okay, stop this, Anevia. Now, please. I've managed to embarrass myself before a cleric of Iomedae."

The archer turns to the crowds, half-grinning,

"Sorry folks! Just a ... reenactment of a historic Kenabres conflict. Nothing more. Please enjoy your day."

As the archer reassures the passing crowds, the half-orc approaches Matai with a friendly but confident smile,

"My apologies, cleric. I was caught-up in the moment and lost my bearing there for a moment. Not very becoming of Iomedae's own, I know. I am Irabeth Tirabade, knight of Iomedae. And you are ....?"


Vivian:

As the charismatic Psychic reveals her mark, the men lean in to see, with Beltran leaning a little too much as he nearly stumbles into Vivian, if not for Aravashnial's quick hand catching him! The armored man rights himself, clearing his throat and looking around as the elf's eyes light up,

"The Sign of the Seeker's Spiral! You are the child of Riftwardens!"

He suddenly realizes how loud his comment was and looks around at the crowd, regaining his composure and nodding at people passing by. Beltran comes to stand closer to Vivian, a mild blush on his face, and speaks in a semi-hushed tone,

"How is it that we knew not of you before this day? You should have come to us, if only to make an acquaintance. As Riftwardens, we are charged to protect all against the fiends of the Worldwound, but you most of all. What is your name?"

Aravashnial draws close to his ally and the psychic,

"We mustn't discuss these private matters here openly. Her safety is always at risk, as the enemies of the light are constantly watching."

Beltran nods in agreement, then looks again at Vivian,

"Please tell us your name, fair woman, and then walk with us. We have many questions for you, and perhaps answers as well."

The gentlemen gaze at Vivian with glowing enthusiasm, awaiting her response .....


Helgi:

If he looks back, the Witchwolf would see a stern look on the man's face. He is obviously a noble of some sort and probably isn't used to being brushed-off. Just as he seems to speak in Helgi's direction of flight, his female companions rush to his side, drawing his attention and within seconds, they are back to strolling the crowds.

[Kish]

Matai smiles, glad to see it wasn't a real problem. "Not at all. We should all enjoy the celebration. I am called Matai Dorn, and I am pleased to meet you, Lady Knight. My apologies for embarrassing you." He finally notices that his companion seems to have had some kind of altercation while he was focused on the acting pair; feeling slightly chagrined at having been distracted from something potentially dangerous by something that wasn't, he looks at Helgi and then at the departing noble before returning his eyes to meet the half-orc's politely.

[Metroid33]

Well sure, tell them all of our secrets. The voice whispered to Vivian.

"Well my name is Vivian, I never knew my parents I've just got this mark. " Vivian said, ignoring the pestering voice. "If you wish to discuss matters in a more private setting I wouldn't mind. I would like to know if I could get more info. a Girl can only learn so much from the library."

[dream]

Matai:

Irabeth watched the cleric's eyes, seeing Helgi nearby, then shakes her head at Matai,

"No, you've no need to apologize. It was I who momentarily forgot my oath, for which I will ask Iomedae's forgiveness. I cannot say I remember your face from around here, although I spend many a great deal of time away from Kerabres. Where are you from, Matai? Are you a crusader?"


Vivian:

As Aravashnial steps off, Beltran nods and smiles,

"Library? Hah! That's exactly where we're headed. Please ...."

Beltran politely gestures for Vivian to walk with them, and begins following Aravashnial who is only a yard ahead. Nodding at many of the passing people, some who reach to shake Beltran's hand, it isn't difficult for Vivian to realize these two men are very well-known in Kerabres. While waving at another passing couple, Beltran asks,

"What do you know of the Librarium of the Broken Black Wing?"

Spoiler: The Librarium

Show

If Vivian isn't familiar with the site, make a DC10 Knowledge: Local check:

Spoiler: result of 10+

Show

Thirty-six years ago, a caravan returning to the city from Truestone Quarry was set upon by a gang of vrocks. The caravan might have been outmatched if not for one of the recently hired guards, a wizard named Quednys Orlun. Orlun had spent years studying demons, and his spellcasting turned the tide of battle in favor of the caravan. After serving as a guardsman for another few years, Orlun founded the Librarium of the Broken Black Wing, pinning one of the preserved vrock wings above the entrance. The Librarium, often called “Blackwing” by locals, has since become the premier library for demonology andn planar travel research in Mendev. In addition to being a library, Blackwing is a museum of demon skulls, talons, and other grotesque trophies. An aged Orlun still oversees the collection of tomes and scrolls and is always keen to acquire new research material for the stacks.

[ylvathrall]

Helgi glances back to see the nobleman's reaction, and sighs. That's trouble later on, he thinks to himself. Still, better than the likely result if he'd stayed and conversed. It would be only too easy to make a foolish misstep when he knows this place so little, and the woman would have tried to make trouble for him even if he did everything right.

He hurries forward to rejoin Matai, going back to scanning his surroundings now that a sudden attack seems less likely. "What is that?" he asks, pointing towards the flag with Desna's butterfly on it. "I think that I'm supposed to go and look at it."

It's only at this point that he realizes he's interrupting something. If he were in human form, he would likely flush with embarrassment at having made such an obvious mistake; as it is, he whines quietly deep in his throat, and his ears fold back against his skull. "Excuse me, miss," he says, nodding to the knight. "I apologize for intruding. My name is Helgi."

[Extra Anchovies]

Ragarann passes through the Armasse crowds with ease; throngs of celebrants part readily for a man of his stature and savage appearance, especially when such a man is visibly armed. Between his towering build and the massive spear he wears on his back, he is given a wide berth by most of the party-goers - food stands find themselves mostly devoid of patrons when he stops to purchase food or drink, challengers in contests of strength and skill are rare, and even the pickpockets dare not approach him.

Although he is taking what opportunities he can to enjoy the festivities, Ragarann is not in Kenabres to celebrate Armasse; in fact, he had no knowledge that a festival of any sort was occurring until he stepped through the gates of the city.

These people are strange. Is this how they live every day? It is a very... excessive lifestyle.

Despite the strangeness of his situation, Ragarann was not having an unpleasant time in the city; the presence of so many others, none of whose names he knew or would ever know, was disquieting, but at least they were paying him no more attention than they had to. But although at least most of the sweetmeats and ales he'd purchased hadn't been too bad, he wasn't in the city to celebrate the death of a god. It struck him as odd that the people would hold festivals on such an anniversary, but that was of no matter to him. He was here to join a crusade, that he may bring glory to his land and people and spare them the fate he had seen in his dreams.

To this end, Ragarann needed to find some crusaders. And find them he does.

He sees a group of four individuals exchanging greetings - two of them bear the symbol of the crusaders' god (Iomedae, was it?), and those two, along with one of their companions, are visibly armed with an assortment of weapons. The fourth member is curious in appearance; they seem to be some sort of wolf-man, perhaps through similar magic to that practiced by the beast-shamans in Ragarann's homeland. He walks purposefully towards them, but a child among the crowd to his left decides that it would be funny to toss a handful of gravel at the fur-clad outlander. His head snaps towards the source of the pebbles, but he sees nothing, so he looks forwards again - just in time to run straight into one member of the group he was approaching.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Sorry for not posting until now, I've been busy.

Roll to determine who he accidentally runs into:
(1d4)[3]
1 - Matai
2 - Helgi
3 - Irabeth
4 - Anevia

[Kish]

As Matai draws breath to respond, a stranger plows into the knight. "Oh! Are you all right?" he addresses her, rushing to offer her a hand up. He checks unobtrusively to make sure she's okay before looking at the stranger. "Only an...aspiring crusader, for now," he answers Irabeth's question. "I've lived in Kenebras most of my life. Are you all right, Helgi? I'm sorry I didn't realize what was going on there." Matai apologizes smoothly.

[ylvathrall]

"All is well," Helgi says, watching the woman on the ground to be sure she isn't injured. Better to leave her to Matai, if not; more hands will not help here. For that matter, if her reaction to him was similar to that the previous group had, it might be better to leave her on her own than for him to help her up.

"Do any of you know what is over there?" he asks, again pointing towards Desna's flag. "I think I am meant to look at it more closely, and it is best not to argue with such omens."

[daelrog]

Spoiler: Knowledge: Geography

Show

Doshk has no ranks.

Doshk didn't know this man. In truth, he didn't really care either. He ran his claw through his horns and hair, breathing in through his nose to get the scent of what seemed like an impending fight. "You wear your swords as if you can wield them both at once. Curious. I don't think I've ever seen a man wield two greatswords at once. At least not with any skill. I'd like to see that. I'd like to see you try, on your horse or off it, show these people what you are." Doshk didn't reach for hsi own sword, instead flexing his claws which made sickening popping noises as he did so.

[dream]

Matai, Helgi, and Ragarann:

The she-knight stumbles awkwardly nearly falling, but is steadied by her companion who snaps at the lumbering warrior,

"Watch where you're going, brute! You aren't wandering the Tusk Mountains anymore!"

The half-orc puts a hand on the irate archer's shoulder while turning to see Ragarann,

"Easy, Anevia. It is Armasse --- look at all these people. Accidents happen. Relax."

Turning back to Matai, the she-knight continues,

"You're from here? Hm. I really need to pay better attention to our congregation. You said 'aspiring crusader', Matai ... the least I can do is introduce you to my order, the Eagle Watch. Does that interest you?"

The archer, still eyeing Ragarann suspiciously, turns to the half-orc,

"You've forgotten already, Irabeth: our previous engagement ...? Besides, as you said, it's Armasse. I'm sure these fellows are eager to take in the sights ..."

The cape-and-armor half-orc looks surprised, then gives Matai a resigned look,

"Matai, again I'm apologizing. This is a special day and as I'm reminded of my commitments. But, the Eagle Watch gathers at noon in Clydwell Plaza for Lord Hulrun's commencement address --- please tell me you will be there?"

Strolling around the taller half-orc, Anevia the archer comes to stand near Helgi, looking him over,

"Greetings to you, Helgi. You speak of omens .... are you a follower of Desna? It would fit, with your Kellid background. But, there's something else about you ..... the accent .... Numeria?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Anevia's check:
DC10 Geography check vs. Ragarann's heritage: 1d20+2 19
DC10 Geography check vs. Helgi's heritage: 1d20+2 13
Players can make DC10 Geography checks if you like to learn where Anevia might be from, along with any other rolls you might want to make;

Spoiler: 10+ on Geography check

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Anevia's accent betrays her Nisrochi orgin: Nisroch is the largest city in Nidal, known for its pirates and corruption.

Doshk:

The prodigious barbarian steps forward to stand less than a yard from the Tielfling warrior,

"You'd like what? Are you sassing me, dog-beast! I am Uwhurain Elt Dragonslayer, prince of the Icestair and scion to the Crown of the World! I've come down for the tournament, to show the crusader-welps of Mendev what true warfare looks like. Please tell me you foolishly entered the contest, so that I'll have the opportunity to teach you to mind your master! You will show me my respect ... or I will leave you in three pieces! While I cannot make out your clan, you're surely from some outcast mongrel pack!"

"Dragonslayer" seems very intent on showing-off to the crowds, who gather at a safe distance to watch the spectacle. Doshk also notices several armored city guardsmen inching through the crowds in your direction ....

Spoiler: OOC

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Make a DC15 Sense Motive or Perception check for Doshk to pick-up on something .... also, you can make DC10 Knowledge checks untrained (without having ranks).
Dragonslayer tries to Demoralize Doshk, who resists due to his Outsider nature!
DC11 Intimidation vs. Doshk: 1d20+3 18
Dragonslayer's Geography check fails:
DC10 Geography check vs. Doshk's heritage: 1d20-1 0

[daelrog]

Spoiler: Rolls

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Ah right, my mistake.
Knowledge Geography: (1d20-1)[0]
Perception: (1d20+4)[15]

And looks like the intimidate was successful against him.

Doshk hesitated. Perhaps this one was worth his claims? He sized the 'Dragonslayer' up, and smiled. "Tournament?" The Tiefling barked out a laugh. "My fight is out there." His hand pointed out to towards the direction of the Worldwound. "I came here to fight demons, to bathe in their blood, or for them to bathe in mine. When I die it won't be for some scion's pride, it'll be kicking and screaming as an unnamed horror feasts on my heart. That is a fitting end." Doshk's eyes shined with a slight bit of bloodlust and madness. He wasn't lying. He meant every single word he was saying.

Spoiler: Another Roll

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I think Doshk's response is worthy of an intimidation roll as well
Intimidation: (1d10+5)[6]

[ylvathrall]

"I am indeed a follower of Desna," Helgi says politely. "She saved me in a very dark time, so I know that she is a powerful spirit indeed. Later I learned that she says good things, so I honor her for her wisdom and the help she gave me. As to your other question, I was born in Numeria, and I have traveled there for some time. I do not know that I can claim them, however, as my parents were wanderers, the same as I am."

He then clears his throat. "When you say you are crusaders, this means you fight the Worldwound, yes? I came to this place hoping to do something similar. That is where I was when Desna saved me, and I saw how it poisons the world around it. I do not know if I can help against such a thing, but if so, I would."

Spoiler: Rolls

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Knowledge (geography):(1d20+5)[10]
Diplomacy (if necessary): (1d20-5)[9]

[dream]

Doshk:

Dragonslayer seems to pause in mid-word, as if losing his train of thought, then his face hardens,

"Bah! A coward then, like the others! You would rather die in the shadows chasing childish crusader's dream! Go then. You aren't worth the edge of my swords! I'll find worthy prey elsewhere."

He draws the reigns on his warhorse and both turn away towards a nearby inn, as at least seven city guardsmen, hands on their sword-hilts, watch the scene. The mass of onlookers, most dressed as pilgrims and travelers, begin to move on as they sheepishly eye Doshk. Just as the Tiefling destroyer resumes his Kenabres mission, a low, sinister voice echoes across the area --- and the language is clearly demonic!

" ... Doooossssssshhhhhhk ...."

Spoiler: OOC

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The voice speaks his name in the Abyssal tongue.

Helgi:

The Witchwolf recognizes Avenia's heritage, and instinctively understands he should watch his step: Nisrochi are very well-known rogues capable of deceiving even the wise. Avenia nods at the hunter's words, turning her head side-to-side to admire Helgi's features,

"... What, exactly, are you, stranger? I would perhaps name you 'friend', but you seem capable of changing your face ... as a demon would ... is your blood mixed with Hell? Are you a warlock?"

The archer's curious look turns serious as her dark brown eyes lock onto Helgi's ....

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception check to pick-up on something about Avenia.

Spoiler: result of 20+

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While she looks female, there's something masculine about Avenia ...

[daelrog]

Doshk could barely contain his smile. It wasn't a smile of happiness, but more akin to a dog barring its teeth. Uwhurain Elt Dragonslayer, he'd have to remember the name in case it ever came up again. The crusader's dream though? Doshk doubted the noble defenders of Mendev dreamed the same as he did.

Doshk didn't need to hide any smile when he heard the voice. It left him entirely. He felt a cold stirring inside, not denying what he had heard. "Now this is interesting. Have only been here a day, and trouble already finds me." He said the words out loud, and any nearby would probably assume he was talking about the fellow Kellid barbarian. "I suppose I should be honored really." He picked up his Kumis wineskin and drank from it again.

[Extra Anchovies]

"My apologies. I know that I am no longer in the lands of my people; I have traveled from there to join the crusaders. You are one of them, no?"

[ylvathrall]

Helgi looks away from the woman's face, keeping his attention on her without quite meeting her eyes. Eye contact means a challenge, and a challenge here would be disastrous regardless of the outcome.

He also stifles his first response to her words, which is a rebuke of the sort that would make him very unwelcome in this city. He has been called a demon many times for his appearance, but now that he's actually seen demons, the comparison is unwelcome to say the least.

But he knows better than to initiate even harmless violence here, so he instead takes a deep breath and attempts to center himself before replying. "There is nothing demonic about me," he says, keeping his tone level and calm with an effort. "I am more kin to werewolves than anything. We are a part of the world that many do not care for, but we are still of this world."

Spoiler: Rolls

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Perception: (1d20+14)[23] (Feral Aspect is still falcon, so an extra +4 here)
Sense Motive to figure out why she's interested in him: (1d20+4)[20]

[dream]

Matai, Helgi, and Ragarann:

The conversation with Irabeth and Avenia continues for a while, with the heroes getting strong impressions about the duo: Irabeth is a noble and tireless champion of Iomedae, a true crusader, while Avenia is something of an antiheroic scoundrel one would have to watch carefully. The groups part on good terms as the duo goes to attend their business and the three adventures set about exploring Kenabres' holiday environment.

Spoiler: What Matai, Helgi, and Ragaran learned from Irabeth:

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Crusaders: The Mendevian Crusades have long drawn volunteers from righteous orders across Golarion. Not all these orders are large, well -established organizations, though. Smaller orders, some consisting of no more than a few dozen knights, arrive in Mendev by the droves. Some
of these “orders” are no more than a few friends banded together under a name made up on the spot. However, there are a few well-known orders in Kenabres.

Her order, The Eagle Watch, is a group of righteous crusaders who realized that though most of their enemies live in the Worldwound across the river, a great many walk the streets of Kenabres and make their camps north of the city walls. The group was founded by an Eagle Knight who felt that the greater threat to freedom wasn’t Andoran’s clashes with Cheliax, but rather the Abyssal rift spitting demons into world. Dismayed by the behavior of their brothers and sisters, the Eagle Watch seek to rid the crusaders of corruption and improper vices. Many other crusader groups see the Eagle Watch as a nuisance, and even Hulrun works to keep them marginalized.

All Heroes:

The crowds within Kenabres swell even more by midday, making street travel a challenge, and all the buzz on everyone's lips is the commencement address by Lord Hulrun, which is essentially hosted by the High Priest of Iomedae and the Cathedral of Saint Clydwell. All followers of Iomedae are required to attend, as the High Priest has demanded it, and will be giving the opening blessing. Afterwards, in and around Clydwell Plaza there will be many contests, demonstrations of the martial arts, sales of usually exclusive products, and open recruitment for crusaders and new converts to various orders. It promises to be a grand extravaganza that will draw thousands, as the adventurers learn by seeing many signs around Kenabres alerting patrons that most shops will be closed during the commencement address. Lord Hulrun is the beloved prelate of the city and that alone brings locals to see and hear him in person again.

The heroes can find Clydwell Plaza simply by following the crowds streaming in that direction just before noon ...

[dream]

All Heroes:

As the heroes push through the masses, occasionally a familiar face appears belonging to someone the heroes had met earlier in the day, but so many faces and so many voices! The crowd gathered in Clydwell Plaza quieted as the aged inquisitor, Lord Hulrun himself, took the stage, clad in shining, resplendent armor ...

Spoiler: Vivian and Doshk:

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Just now as the masses quieted anticipating Lord Hulrun's address, you hear something that makes your skin crawl; the low rumble of inhuman voices --- a multitude of them --- laughing in semi-unison! The most sickening aspect of the murmurs was the language --- demonic --- and it cascades across the plaza, coming from nowhere!

The Rending!

He cleared his throat, but just as he was about to speak, a bright light shone from the west, as if the sun were rising from the wrong direction. Hulrun’s shadow fell huge and distorted across the cathedral’s facade. A moment later, the sound of a thunderous explosion ripped through the air and earth, along with a violent tremor! The entire crowd of thousands seemed to shudder and shout as bits of debris started falling from the surrounding buildings! To the west, the fortress known as the Kite—the location of Kenabres’s wardstone—had vanished: in its place, a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning, and smoke erupted into the heavens!

A tremendous wave of flame which explodes from the sky, raining down on all of Kenabres! Buildings, streets, even terrified people burn as fires light and grow all across Clydwell Plaza! The thousands in attendance scatter and trample one another in horrific rush for survival! Women, children, and men scream in terror as the streets of Kenabres are rent asunder, monstrous caverns opening at random! Worse still, twisted creatures begin to emerge from the tears in the street, nightmarish beasts of all shapes and sizes that attack fleeing Armasse participants!

A moment later, a powerful roar accompanied a welcome sight rising from the crowd—Kenabres’s greatest guardian, the ancient silver dragon Terendelev, who had until that moment been attending the opening ceremony disguised as a dwarf. Above, another form appeared, as nightmarish as the dragon was breathtaking. A humanoid shape three times the size of any man, with skin coated in fire and lightning, gripped a flaming sword and whip. The creature’s identity was immediately obvious: Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, had come to Kenabres!

As the ground continued to shake and disgorge demons into the streets, the dragon and the balor lord clashed above! The fight was over in a few harrowing moments, as the balor cut deep into Terendelev’s body, swooping down to strike the dragon and arresting her charge! A few more blows, and the titanic duo spiraled downward toward the crowd. The sight of the dragon smashing into the facade of the Cathedral of St. Clydwell is one no witness would ever forget. At that moment, a titanic demon erupted at the far end of the plaza, reducing several buildings to ruins as it smashed into this world. The rift it created shot across the plaza, and this time there was no escape—it opened below your feet, angling away into darkness. Even as you fell, the dragon noticed your plight. Though she saw death standing over her, she seized this final chance to save a few more souls. After she uttered a few arcane words and stretched out a bleeding talon, you felt her magic take hold of you, slowing your plummet into the darkness as if you were feathers falling into a pit. Yet the fall remained as inexorable, and as you drifted downward into the depths, the last thing you saw was the Storm King standing before the ancient silver dragon, his sword lashing out and cleaving full through her neck. As her severed head fell, the rift above you slammed shut, and the light of the world above was gone!

The Fall

"Fire tries gold. Misery tries the brave."

The heroes awaken coughing for breath in utter darkness! Dust and debris rain slowly down on them from above as the muffled thunder of what might be the world collapsing vibrates around them. Half-buried in rocks, the group spends a moment that feels like eternity freeing themselves from an unwanted grave! Stumbling in the dark on solid ground, dirt still raining around them intermittently, the heroes attempt to assess their situation. The sounds of shifting earth and distant bats echo around the blackness ...

Spoiler: All Players:

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Unless your PC has Darkvision, they are blinded by the darkness. Lighting a torch illuminates the area, revealing a vast underground cavern far below Kenabres! The PCs are covered in dirt, sore but uninjured, and disoriented. The cavern is not cold, but much cooler than the sunny environment enjoyed earlier. Movement here is no more than 15' per round due to scattered debris/boulders. You can attempt a DC20 Knowledge: Dungeoneering check (if you have ranks in it) to determine your depth beneath Kenabres.

Spoiler: Dungeoneering check success:

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roughly 250 feet.

Make a DC10 Perception check and you can begin posting your PCs' reactions here.

Spoiler: successful Perception check:

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Either via Darkvision or when the group has light, your PC notices a glittering necklace around their neck bearing a teardrop-shaped gem! If the necklace is removed, it vanishes, reappearing around the PC's neck!
A DC10 Knowledge: Dungeoneering check to determine the type of metal and gem the necklace is can be made Untrained:

Spoiler: Successful necklace material check:

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The chain is fine Platinum and the gem, a flawless diamond!

DC20 Appraisal to determine the necklace's value can be made untrained:

Spoiler: successful Appraisal:

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The fine platinum and diamond necklace is worth AT LEAST 10,000 gold.

[Kish]

While Matai doesn't try to intervene in his companions' interactions with the archer, he attempts to take the measure of her as he continues to speak with the knight, assuring her that he wouldn't miss it. Continuing through the crowd, he answers any questions the shapeshifter has about any subjects he knows about, including clarifying, if he realizes how his earlier words were taken, that the holiday is a celebration of the god's power which long predates his death rather than a wake.

When the demons attack, Matai is stricken. Looking around frantically for something he can do to help, he's aware of his weakness relative to his enemies in a way he hasn't been in years if ever. The brief spark of hope as the dragon attacks is quickly extinguished with her speedy death. Surrounded by darkness, Matai makes himself take several deep breaths. Get back. Find out what's left, if anything. Avenge--oh, Iomedae, my family is in Kenebras. I was going to buy a lantern before I went underground voluntarily; why did I delay instead of getting it when I bought this rope? "Who else is still alive?" he asks in a sharp, harsh-sounding voice.

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception check to pick up something about Avenia: (1d20+4)[13]
Untrained in Knowledge: Dungeoneering, no roll.
Perception check for anything I can hear, and for what I see when there's light, but I won't open the spoiler until someone says they light a light source. I hope someone thought to buy one or this is going to have a ridiculous, and possibly abbreviated, beginning. I swear a lantern is usually among my starting gear purchases; I don't know why I forgot it this time, sorry. (1d20+4)[17]