Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

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Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

Sztharaxycus
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This post was updated on .
Howdy ho, MRPites! Welcome to my PF campaign, set to tip off January 31 in the psychology auditorium at 5:30 p.m. It's a homebrew campaign setting so there's no big fancy world map (yet). Any NPCs, history, and locations you want to create in your backstory or character journals will be canon. A few house :

*Dice rolls that hit the floor don't count unless you call Jumanji before it stops rolling.

*We'll be using fast track XP since many PCs have prestige classes they're trying to reach and I don't want the campaign to die before we get there.

*When addressing me as GM and not speaking to an NPC I am Szthraxycus the Winged Blight, not Daniel. Feel free to come up with adorable pet names like Szthy or Lord Blightwing.

Character Creation:

*Ability generation: 17-point point buy

*All Paizo material is free game with the exception of the Gunslinger class and Psionics. If you see any 3rd party material you want to use just show me and i'll approve it on a case-by-case basis.

*I've created a few races from the Magic: the Gathering multiverse using the rules from Advanced Races Guide. They are playable. Moonfolk (aka Soratami), Rhox, Loxodon , Vedalken,Merfolk_Race.pdf, and Viashino.

*
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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

Gcjones
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This post was updated on .
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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

Gcjones
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The Solara:



The Solara is a dualistic religion of twin sun deities, Aea and Helana. They each govern aspects of the sun in all its radiant glory, and though certain aspects of their domains may intersect, they are different none the less.

However, as different as they may be, they are typically worshiped as one. Every shrine, temple, or any other religious site of Helana is also a temple of Aea, and vice versa.

They church itself is of one body, although it has within it two main factions that work separately, but equally with no animosity between the two. They are serving the will of the Solara, no matter which deity they may represent. Whenever a being wishes to become a holy servant of the deities, they typically assume the mantle of one of the two deities, though they still worship both. For instance, a cleric may worship the Solara as his or her deity, but they may be a Servant of Aea or a Servant of Helana, as these are the proper titles.

The church is headed by a set of twins (identical or fraternal), as twins have a special significance to the worshipers of the Solara. Usually chosen from birth, they are groomed until one of the two current Archleaders can no longer lead, with the other leader stepping down with the loss of their sibling. Once a set of leaders have taken their place as the heads of the church, they will serve until the death or incapacity of one of the current leaders (as the leaders may only lead as pairs, never as the sole leader). They current leaders of the church as Archpriest Pylas, a Herald of Helana, and Archpriestess Gwendolyn, a Herald of Aea. Though they are only in their fifties, they are among the longest reigning heads of the church, ascending to the leadership at the age of six. Every smaller religious body of the Solara is lead in a similar way, with two leaders, one of each deity.

Whenever one becomes a servant of the Solara, they are emerged in a pool of glowing Sunwater, holy water which has undergone a divine spell. Once emerged, they are a completely new person. Their old self has ceased to exist. As such, they are given new names and their old identity is forgotten by the church. The initiated may choose any name that they wish, with names of historical religious leaders throughout the church's history being quite common. For example, a new Cleric of Aea may choose the name Yusuf, after the second Archpriest of the church. If he was hailed (the term for the immersion in sunwater) in a temple in the Riversend region, they the name he would take would be Yusuf of Riversend, or more commonly, Yusuf Riversend. This also allows servants of the Solara to identify one another and know where  they came from. Worshipers however, are never expected to make this commitment to the church, though the hailing in Sunwater is not uncommon.



Aea, the Healer. She and her worshipers often protect and heal others. They see their duty as being pillars of communities or traveling to help the sick and wounded. It is not uncommon to see warring factions have Servants of Aea on each of their sides, as the Servants of Aea look to ease the suffering of the masses often regardless of political or religious ideology (with the obvious exceptions being those who bring mass suffering into the world).

Aea herself is often symbolized with the glowing warmth that the sun brings, in addition to the yearly harvest that so depends on the sun's rays.

Domains: Community, Good, Healing, Sun



Helana, the Valkyrie. She and her worshipers intend to end the blight of evil in the world, as they see it. It is not uncommon for the church to call for a crusade to push back the forces of darkness every few generations. With the exception of the few that stay within the temples and protect the communities that they are in, most Servants of Helana find themselves traveling in order to both seek out evil and protect others from it.

Helana is often symbolized as the light that the sun shines upon the land, bringing protection from the night and all those who roam during it.  

Domains: Glory, Law, Protection, Sun, War

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The Solara

Sztharaxycus
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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

phishcelestine
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Belor Yolkiin
       Long ago, the great gold dragon Zintoorriik took form of a Loxodon man to enter a local village of the proud race.  There, in the market, he met a young Loxodon woman: Izora.  Over the course of a few weeks, the two fell hopelessly in love.  Then one night, he led her into the woods and lifted his guise to reveal to her his true form.  Izora ran back into the village, fearing for her life. Some of the townsfolk were quite suprised she was afraid, seeing as dragons rarely fell for the races of man and that was an honor.  Months later, her son was born.  He was given the best education and provided for by the community until he came of age and, thaking the name Yolkiin, started an arcane school claiming the dragons blood made him more powerful.
        Here we are, five generations later.  Belor Yolkiin, the second son of Vorek Yolkiin, archmage of the Yolkiin College of Combat Arcana, has just graduated from his father's school.  His brother, being eldest, was destined to take over his father's legacy and become Archmage when his father retired.  So where did that leave Belor?  Growing up he had taken great pride in the legends of dragon's blood in his veins and dreamed of adventure.  This was his chance.  He told his parents that he wanted to go on a journey and see the world and gain more insight to his abilities.  His parents supplied him with money and traveling gear so that he could live out his fantasies, believing he would return within a week or two missing his home and luxaries.  Little did they know, Belor had no intentions of returning home without learning the full extent of his abilities and mastering all that Zintoorriik had to offer him.

Yolkiin College of Combat Arcana and the Yolkiin family crest
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A new challenger appears......

Jacbo117
This post was updated on .
In reply to this post by Sztharaxycus

Keiran Erebus


  

Race: Human

Age: 22

Religion: Keiran is reverent of multiple Gods, since over the years he has come into contact with many religions.

Physical Description:
     Keiran is flexible and lean as a result of nearly a decade of living off of the land. He is also fairly pale, a side effect of his time spent on the plane of shadow. He typically dresses in a cloak covering his weapons and shading his face.

Personality:
     Keiran adventures to see the world and learn everything he can. A life of wandering has made him self-reliant and incredibly knowledgeable, but it has also made him slow to trust and reluctant to have faith in anyone whom he does not consider a friend. While he may seem distant at first glance, he is loyal to those who manage to gain his friendship.
     Keiran is strong-willed, patient, and perceptive. He prefers to not be the center of attention, but if needed he will put his reservations aside and take command of a situation.
     Keiran follows his own moral compass. As such, he is skeptical of societal rules, and he will ignore them if he finds them to be wrong. Keiran is reverent of nature and easily offended by those who are not. He also has a deep hatred of those who attack innocents, and he will protect those who cannot protect themselves.
     
History:

CHILDHOOD:
     Keiran was born to a poor family with nothing more than a shack to their name, in a small village that has long since been forgotten. Throughout his childhood, Keiran was known for being too smart for his own good. Keiran learned to survive on the streets, having rely to his wits to procure a simple meal. At the young age of 12, a group of raiders attacked, killing everyone in sight. Keiran managed to evade his attackers by fleeing into the forest; when he returned, Keiran learned that he was the only survivor. With nowhere to go, Keiran gathered what he could from the village and ventured into the forest.
ADOLESCENCE:
     After losing his family, Keiran became a wanderer, travelling from town to town and never staying in one place for long. Whenever Keiran came upon a town, he would "borrow" any source of knowledge that he could find, and return it after he had learned everything he could from it. One day while travelling in the forest, Keiran came upon a peaceful grove. While pausing to admire the scenery, he witnessed a bandit attacking a nymph. Keiran quietly rushed to her aid, and with a heavy blow to the back of the head, rendered the bandit unconscious. Impressed by the young boy's courage and sensing the great pain and loss within him, the nymph introduced herself as Flidais. She offered to teach Keiran the ways of the forest, so that he may always feel at home within the wilds. Keiran accepted the offer and the two became friends. Flidais taught Keiran the language of the trees and the Fey, and, over time, Keiran gained a profound reverence for nature. After living in the forests near the grove and learning much from Flidais through years of study, Keiran said goodbye, for he wanted to see the world. Before he left however, Flidais bestowed a blessing upon him. Keiran began wandering once more, learning whatever he could, wherever he could.
ADULTHOOD:
     At the age of 19, Keiran became intrigued by shadow magic. He managed to locate a dark looking gnome who offered to teach him hidden knowledge of the shadowcasters. He introduced himself as Kern, and led Keiran down a dark alley. The two approached suspicious looking door, and Kern instructed Keiran to step through it. When he hesitated, Kern shoved him, forcing him though the door. When Keiran turned around, he found that the door had vanished, along with the gnome. As he examined his surroundings, he realized that he was no longer on the material plane. Keiran had been banished to the plane of shadows.
     Surrounded by darkness, Keiran once again had to learn to survive. After consuming the food and water on the plane of shadow, Keiran noticed a change within himself; over time, he began feeling a profound connection to the shadow itself. After a few months of struggling to survive, Keiran managed to find a community of sentient shadow beings. Gathering what little information was available, Keiran discovered that shadow magic was the only way to return to the material plane. After 2 years of aimlessly searching for tomes of shadow across the plane and piecing the information within them together, he eventually was able to use his abilities to locate a tear linking the shadow and material planese and return home.
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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

Gcjones
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This post was updated on .
In reply to this post by Sztharaxycus

                        The North is only as cold as the people that inhabit it. The nomadic tribes that inhabit the tundra are rarely at peace with one another and even when they are not fighting, it does not last very long. His mother had come from another tribe. An arranged marriage where she was merely a bargaining tool in the terms of this temporary peace, though no one would acknowledge that such an arrangement could not last for long.

                         Years passed as his mother gave birth to him, his father being the chieftain of the Sibash Tribe. His father's position was a respected and honored one, but the tribe did not approve of his child or marriage. He was mocking them, he had been the only one to take bride from the Halun Tribe. They had been offered brides as well, but no one other than the chieftain had dared defile they traditions by bringing a foreign woman into their tribe, let alone having a child with her.

                       The boy was harassed, beaten, and bruised by the other children and even his elders. Though it was his place to one day take lead of the tribe, many considered him unfit to lead, if even fit to live in their villages. His only console was his mother. She was the only one to show any kindness towards him. His father never cared for the mother or the boy, placing his people before his family often meant isolating them as a source of tension within the community.

                       Perhaps thats why his father protected his people instead of his "family" when the orcs attacked. His mother wrapped the boy, no older than five, in a blanket and tried to escape, but she was caught. How she died, the boy can't remember, but he really wouldn't like to. On his own he had to crawl out off the village, injured from debris. He sought to hide in an unoccupied tent, unaware of the flames that would engulf it minutes after he hide.

                       Choking on smoke, too injured to walk, the boy was trapped in his own personal hell. Flames began to overtake the makeshift dwelling and made their way towards the boy. He was too weak to move and the flames swallowed him whole. A child's scream would only attract attention to his hiding place, but nothing could be worse than what he was already experiencing. Then, it happened, a miracle that he would directly attribute to The Solara. A man, encased head to toe in armor came into the tent and scooped up the boy in one swift motion of his massive arms. He managed to starve the flames, but the damage had been done. From shock and pain, the boy passed out, never knowing what happened to the rest of his tribe or his father. The only reminder he had of the tribe was the necklace his father had given him, indicating him as the heir to the tribe.

                     Several days later the boy became lucid again, in a field where he could feel something on his back that he had never felt before: grass. He had been rescued by a man with a sun emblem on his chest. His name was Gregory of Windfall and he was a Servant of Aea. None of this particularly meant anything to the boy, unaware of what any of this meant. He went on to say that he could not have stopped the attack on his village, but he could have at least rescued the boy. He only wished that he had seen the fires sooner so that he could have done more to help them.

                  Years passed and the boy grew up in the temple where the man heralded from. He grew stronger, sturdier, and more patient, though a fire grew in his heart; one of anger from his tribe and one of loyalty to The Solara. His burns had scarred most of his body, and though a few in the temple had seen his face, he preferred to remain covered at all times. The boy believed this fit with his hailing, as he was no longer who he once was. He was now Gregor of Blackstone, taking his name from his savior. He trained in combat, his attackers in his heart.

                Finally, it was time for Gregor to set forth on a journey, where he would extinguish evil and the hearts of wicked men from the world. Upon leaving, he was approached by his mentor. He handed him the medallion from his rescue. All these years, and he had forgotten about it. He told him that even though he had now dedicated his life to the church, it was important to remember where he came from.

                 He had always respected Sir Windfall, but now he was being a fool. Nothing was more important that who he was now and who he served for. If he was ever to remember where he came from it would be while he was swinging his blade into the skull of a brutal orc. He accepted the medallion in respect for their friendship, but he did not intend to keep it. On his first night of camping, Gregor melted the medallion over a flame. By daybreak, he had smelted it in its entirety.
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Character Journal 1

Jacbo117
This post was updated on .
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
It has been nearly three months now since I met Agamemnon, and nearly five months since returning to this plane. I thought that this feeling would fade once I had readjusted to life in the material plane, but it still lingers. I do not feel as if I truly belong to this world. It is as if I had left a part of myself in the plane of shadow, and that void within me was filled with the energy of that world, with shadow itself.

This "connection," if it may even be called that, has granted me abilities unimaginable, but at what cost? I sought the knowledge and skills to protect those who are defenseless against the evil within this world, to save them from the pain that I have suffered. Yet darkness and shadow are not trusted willingly, and no matter how naturally it comes to me, others will see it as abnormal and twisted.

There is some hope for me yet, it seems. Agamemnon is not afraid or distrusting in the least, from what I have seen during the time that I have known him. And it appears that the others seeking to help this small town will possess a disposition similar to his. Perhaps people will not judge me by my abilities, no matter their origins, and instead regard me by how I use them.
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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

Gcjones
Administrator
In reply to this post by Gcjones
              When we were in the cave, I saw something I had never seen before. A man, seemingly made of glass came to life and began to attack myself and my comrades. Had I not had Helana guiding my blade, I would have fallen and I would no longer be in this realm. I am disturbed by this creature.

              Upon returning to the village one of the fellows who had saved the children began to pour through tome after tome as opposed to resting. In the morning we had our answer, "clericglass". This made a shiver go through my spine. A man of the divine cloth had made this creature. Had he intended it to attack servants of good? Had he lost control of this abomination? Either was not an answer I wished to hear and the implications disturbed me the more they ran through my mind.

             Having heard about the exploits of the cleric that invented the material that the creature was made of, I do believe it is safe to say that he was a good man. In all honesty, I had wished he wasn't. An evil man creating a being that attacks and cannot be reasoned with is something I am used to. The world is a dark place and it is my place to illuminate it with the flames of the Solara. Destroy the creature and smite the dark cleric. Problem solved. However, this man had been a good man. A man of my own cut. Yet, he had made this monster. This is most disturbing of all.

Is it possible for a good man to do something which he does not realize is evil? The implications of this are almost frightening to me. If a man like that could do something like that, then who is to say that I have done something for good intent that has only strengthened the foes of good?

Helana, give me strength
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Character Journal 2

Jacbo117
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
     Those damn quills. Some kind of toxin was on them, and now I can't stop itching. Everywhere. Constantly. Maybe it will pass it time, but I would rather not rely on that. I will have to head out into the forest to find a plant that I can fashion into a remedy for this. At least the quills are out. The barbs didn't help, and some of the quills made it deep enough to make them difficult to remove without damaging the surrounding tissue.
     As far as the kobolds go, they do not seem like much of a threat. We should not have any difficulty clearing them out. I wonder if they would be willing to leave peacefully. Perhaps if we were to find their leader and convince him to relocate his tribe, forcefully if necessary, we could avoid having to kill all of them. Considering their actions so far, however, that may be impossible. Perhaps it is better to eliminate them now before they cause more trouble.
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Character Journal 3

Jacbo117
This post was updated on .
Keiran awoke with a gasp, as blinding light filled the room. His vision was blurred, hearing muffled, body weak. He felt like death. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. The pain was immense, yet it seemed to be fading slowly. As his vision finally began to clear as the light began to fade, he saw everyone gathered around him. Gregor stood up, and offered his hand. As Gregor helped Keiran to his feet, Keiran noticed daylight shining down into the cavern from the surface. "How long was I out? It was night when we entered this place," Keiran thought. Keiran attempted to stand on his own, but his strength was gone. Agamemnon quickly handed him a potion, and upon drinking it Keiran finally had enough energy to stand. The others quickly explained to him what had happened after he was hit by the giant ape, how it nearly killed him unless Gregor had distracted it, and how when they had finally cornered it, Agamemnon accidentally cut his chest open, which Gregor managed to heal enough to keep him alive until morning.

Keiran quickly looked himself over for injuries. All of his major wounds were healed, aside from a few cuts and bruises. He walked to where the he had fallen the night before and looked around. The others had already disposed of the corpses, but the blood from last night could easily be seen. When he examined the pool of blood that was his own he noticed that there was much more than any normal human could survive losing. "There's no mistaking it, I shouldn't be alive right now," he thought to himself. Keiran could find no immediate explanation of what exactly had saved him, but his instincts told him that whatever it was, his new-found abilities were somehow the cause.
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k

Gcjones
Administrator
An ape. They were feeding it. A creature of that size and type isn't going to be found in a forest or an abandoned fort. The kobolds must have brought it with them. The amount of food that they were feeding the great beast could have fed at least a dozen kobolds. This is worse than I had feared. With more kobolds they could have sieged the village or some other tactic in order to insure their victory, but with the ape,  savage beast could have torn the town apart with its bare hands.

With the ape they could have killed every single person in the town or even demolished it. They are planning on making a full out attack soon, or at least they would if we weren't going to stop them. I must stop them. No injustice these kobolds might have endured could excuse their behavior. These vile creatures must pay for their crimes. They must never be allowed to harm another being again.
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Character Journal 4

Jacbo117
This post was updated on .
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
That was quite the stroke of luck stepping on that switch which opened the staircase leading to the lower floors. Interestingly enough the timing caused everyone to believe that I managed to pry open a stone door using a crowbar. Their reactions offered a lighthearted diversion from the rather macabre state of this old fortress. The decomposing corpses and rampant magical plant life has made it difficult to keep a positive state of mind. Humor was the only thing that kept me sane during that time on the plane of shadow, and I am glad that it still manages to have that effect on me.

Distractions aside, this substance that we discovered on the deeper levels has some very peculiar properties. The substance is similar to the material that permeates the plane of shadow, yet at the same time possesses wildly different characteristics. Shadow is a reflection of the material plane, simultaneously embodying the possibilities of that reality as well as its actual state. In this way shadow is something that is both tangible and incorporeal, a substance that is something, yet nothing. This substance seems to have the same properties, yet from the opposite perspective. While shadow is material with some immaterial properties, this "void" is immaterial with some material properties. I will have to study this further, as it may be profoundly connected to shadow in a manner I once thought impossible...
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Another Part

Gcjones
Administrator
               If no good has come from this day, the least I can say is that I have rescued the missing villagers. At least I believe they are the missing villagers, but at the very least my understanding of the universe as it stands has been gravely shaken.

             We ventured through the void, a truly remarkable nothingness, in the most literal sense. We found ourselves in a field that was pleasant enough. What I did not expect was how soon that "pleasant" field would become a nightmare. We spent hours traveling to no avail. We were no closer to any of our goals and not a single sign of civilization, past or present, was in sight. One of the more observant members of the group had pointed out that the sun had not moved from its fixed point in the sky since we had arrived.

           Though the field was warm and the weather dry, i had a shiver run down my spine. The sun unmoving? This abomination was something I had neither encountered nor heard about from a single person, tome, or otherwise. How could The Solara allow this to be? Their dominion compromised? There had been no instances of anything like this happening in their eternal radiant reign. Had something happened to them? Were we in a place in which the Solara had no control? What does it mean that the gods have no control? These blasphemous thoughts filled my head and filled me with shame before I forced them out. The land was unholy, unfathomably forsaken by the gods.

           A sense of dread filled me, while my comrades were just as confused, they were not as truly terrified and disturbed by this as I was. I stuck my hand out to the sky, cupping the sun in my hands. This sun was not my sun, not the Solara's sun. It was free from the reign of Helana and Aea, corrupted beyond redemption. Whether it was always and vile creation free from the gods or rather a star that had been forcibly removed from their control I did not know, and quite frankly, I did not care to know.

          I held the sun in my hands. It was not my sun, but I controlled it. I brushed my hand across its blazing surface and the sun moved. My stomach turned as I had the power to move this sun with ease. No mortal should have this power. I am a Servant of Helana, a student of the Solara. I should not have control over their domain. I do not understand the slightest repercussions over what has happened. I should not have this power. They have lived thousands of eons before I set forth in this worth and will live for thousands after I perish. How can I even begin to comprehend what they do? How could I ever have their power or wisdom? This land is unholy, it is evil, and nothing good will ever come of it.

Nothing good will ever come of it.

           Perhaps that is why I am so chilled by finding the villagers in this realm. I assume that they are the villagers and they assume that they are as well, but how can I know? In this realm mortals have the powers of gods, is it not possible that I created missing villagers out of pure will because I wanted to find them? There is no way for me to ever truly know what occurred on the other side of that abominable veil, and I never wish to return. If I ever have to return to that unholy place then I will do so with my blade at the fabric of their reality and Helana's fire razing the land until it returns from once it came.

Praise the Solara.
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Character Journal 5

Jacbo117
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
    It seems that these ruins contain much more than just murals and kobolds. The void that we found seems to be merely a side effect of the portal contained within it. The portal seemed to lead somewhere on the material plane, but I could not determine where. But more interestingly, the portal led to some realm where the conventional laws of magic and physics have been altered. Not drastically, but enough to allow the willpower of those within the realm to control it's features. The most striking effects that we could produce in this realm were manipulation of the realm itself, even the heavenly bodies, as well as materialize various material, living and dead.
    There are limits to this control, however, as I discovered when I attempted to bring materials that were conjured with willpower back through the portal. These objects vanished upon reaching the other side, but objects that occurred naturally within that realm managed to maintain their physical presence upon reaching the "true" material plane. The villagers maintained their presence as well, so it seems that they are not conjurations of Gregor's will. I believe that they are as real as we are, and merely were lost inside the portal. Perhaps they escaped the kobolds and attempted to hide, or maybe the kobolds themselves trapped them inside the void? It matters little now; they are safe and will soon return to their homes.
    What puzzles me is the purpose of that portal, I find its location within the ruins to be too centrally placed to occur through some strange inter-planar occurrence, and the tomes that we found in town made specific mention of the void substance that the portal produced. Besides, I have never encountered any description of the plane that the portal took us to during my years of study. Perhaps the "plane" itself was made of this void, but in a different state? Could the portal be a tear in the planar barrier that causes anything spilling over into our plane to revert to the most basic material native to the other plane? That would explain the void substance that we encountered, but not our ability to alter the physical properties of that realm in the way that we could.
    Even more puzzling is that the realm inside the portal seemed to be a physical copy of our own plane. Perhaps this portal, and the realm inside it, were some kind of artifact. A map. A map that could show terrain at specific times of the day that could be viewed from the air. The person using this "map" could then populate the realm with false beings, that were real in every sense inside the map, but would vanish if removed. A map of this kind would be invaluable to military leaders. They could plan tactics using "real" armies in "real" locations, without any risk of losing men or territory. From what we saw it could have even been used to train soldiers, allowing them to slay combatants that acted just as a normal opponent would, but in a controlled environment without any true danger. These ruins were previously a fortress of some kind, so this conclusion seems just as plausible as the other ones.
    If this is true than what magic could have created such a place? And what being could harness such a power to create an entire realm under its control, a realm that from what I can determined has not deteriorated since its creation? No matter what it is, or where it came from, we have made a remarkable discovery today. I will have to return to this place to study it once we ensure the villagers are safe.
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Character Journal 6

Jacbo117
We backtracked and managed to find a way out of the ruins leading to the opposite side of the mountain, where we encountered even more ruins etched into the sides of the mountains. I was able to discern the worn faces of King Krantz and King Davis as well as two other rulers of the old kingdom. Babar sensed some kind of magical artifact in the spring where we landed, but even after digging through the sand and silt our progress was halted due to a layer of solid rock. I believe that this may be a sign that the ruins may run deeper than originally expected, but there is no way for us to determine this until we return with some way to remove the obstruction. A very rare species of bird had made a nest within the waterfall, and while the mother was nowhere to be found, the eggs were still there, meaning she would soon return. We had no further need to stay near the ruins anyway, so we began the return trek.

The journey was uneventful until we turned in for the night. The night was clear, and I decided to forgo using my hanging tent. I will never make that mistake again, no matter how clear the weather may be, for the decision to sleep outside nearly cost me my life. I awoke from the stinging pain of a large spider biting at my arm. The poison quickly set in and I collapsed soon after. When I awoke I found that my wounds had been injected with another poison, one with to digest the flesh instead of weakening it. Luckily someone among us thought to drain the wound, or I may not have survived. At present we are relatively close to the city, but in my present condition it will still be rather difficult to make it back to town. I will need to rest to recover my strength and let my body rid itself of this foul poison.
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Familiar

Jacbo117
In reply to this post by Jacbo117
Nagin

Species: Dark Hawk



I had been resting all day inside, barely able to move. Whether that was from the pain or from the poison still lingering within me I could not tell. By midday I finally felt able enough to leave my room and step outside for a few moments. The weather was perfect. I had missed days such as this while I was lost in the shadow, for the weather on the plane of shadow was erratic, dark, and cold. Yet today was the very opposite, providing an excellent setting for rest and recovery. I wandered out into the woods near town that had been spared the lumberjacks' saws. An hour passed as I walked amongst the trees, and I found myself inside a small grove. A small creek curved through the clearing, slowly making its way to a small spring, which in turn fed another creek even tinier than the first. The forest around me was nearly silent, the only noise coming from the water trickling its way across the ground, joined by a small symphony of trees slowly swaying in the breeze. I thought this a perfect spot to meditate, I felt that my recent exploits and injuries had somehow altered my person. I had grown, but I had not yet learned what that entailed.  

I sat there in the clearing, perfectly still, grasping at the shadow inside me. It was strangely malleable;  I had never experienced such control over it before. Once I had feared that some day the shadow might consume me, but now I began to realize that I was growing to a synthesis between myself and the shadow within me, rather than a domination of one over the other. As I meditated, could feel a presence above me, one that slowly descended, circling in the air, before landing on my shoulder. I maintained my concentration, continuing to meditate thinking the creature would soon depart, yet it remained for well over an hour. I could somehow sense that I had drawn it to me, as a moth is drawn to a flame, yet I did not know how. I opened my eyes and turned to see what creature had perched itself on my shoulder and found myself face to face with a hawk, black feathered, and completely unafraid of me.

I sat there, puzzled, and strangely, I was able to feel somehow that the hawk felt the same way. It was at this moment that I realized that I had drawn the hawk to me and bound its soul to mine. Upon making this realization the hawk, which was perfectly still the moment before, began to move. It spread its wings, and as it did, I began to notice that the bird was slowly changing. Its already black feathers were becoming even darker, now bearing a resemblance to a cloudy night sky, as well as becoming somewhat translucent. As it began to lift itself into the air, it moved with a wispy gracefulness that I had not seen since observing the creatures on the plane of shadow. This creature had received a part of me, and the shadow within me had fueled its transformation into something more than just a hawk. It had become as I was, a union of physical matter its shadow. As I searched for a name, the word "Nagin" came to mind, meaning "hawk of shadow" in a language long dead. Even though no words were spoken, I could sense a feeling from agreement from the hawk. So it was decided. His name would be Nagin.
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Nodachi

Gcjones
Administrator
            There is a practice in the temple of Blackstone from which I hail. When a young Paladin comes of age, they are to travel to a hallowed site far in the East. The young clerics have another rite, the specifics of which I do not know. Whether other temples have a similar custom is unknown to me as well. The site is many days travel from the temple on horse back, resting only when the horses need. Sir Windfall, my mentor and only true friend, accompanied me on this pilgrimage, but said little of what I should expect. At night, around an extinguished campfire, I would ask him what I should expect at The Thorn, as it is called. He would laugh, stir the ashes in the hearth, and tell me that if I knew what was at the Thorn, then what would even be the point of going?

            When we had finally arrived, I did not understand the meaning of "The Thorn". We stood at the entrance to a cave, and while it was indeed a massive cave, it was by no means intimidating. Sir Windfall began to speak, "What you find in the Thorn may frighten you, or confuse you, but it will not hurt you. That is not to mean that what you find is not dangerous. In fact, in this cave, you will fight the most dangerous foe that you ever have, and perhaps ever will fight." He would so no more about what I would find, but he did hand me his sword before I entered the cave.

            I walked for several minutes until there was barely light left in the cave. When I turned around took look back at the entrance, I could no longer see it. Confused, I started traveling back towards the entrance only to find that it was impossible to find. As I turned back around, I found myself no longer in a cave, but on the snowy tundra of my youth. The snow was bitter and cold as it stung my face. It was bright, but you could not see so much as a few feet in front of you due to the blanket of white whirling through the air. I could not understand what was happening. Five minutes prior to this I had been walking in a dark, damp cave only now to have my feet crushing the snow below them.

          After hours of walking through this winter wasteland I managed to find a small indent in the side of a mountain. It must have been less than ten feet deep, but at least it shielded me from the outside world. I managed to build a fire and huddled myself as close to it as I could without putting myself in danger. I couldn't feel my feet, and my hands were increasingly becoming numb. I began to fear that I would die in this nightmare world. Is this the Thorn? Is this what every Paladin from our temple must go through?

          In the morning I awoke to find that the weather had not improved in the slightest, and at best had only increased in its ferocity. I had determined that the only way out would not be found in my temporary abode, so I began to venture out in the barren tundra once again. I walked through the wilderness, my mentor's sword on my back, my arms across my chest hoping to find warmth. I cried out multiple times looking for somebody, anybody who might hear me. The only person I would find however, was already looking for me.

        I began to hear a crunch in the snow, it was loud, loud enough to be heard over the wind whipping through the air. "Hello?" I found myself saying. I saw a dark figure that was unclear through the snow. It was vaguely humanoid, but as it became increasingly clear, what saw me only caused a chill to run down my spine in this already frigid climate. I thought my eyes deceived me, but they were not. I was indeed looking at a seemingly identical version of myself. Which, perhaps, is why I was unprepared for the blade that entered my body.

       I fell to my knees, his sword, rather my mentor's sword, embedded inches within my side. As he withdrew his blade my blood  spurted onto the once white snow. I looked up at this demon, his eyes fixated on me and filled with hate. Filled with anger. He reached his arms over his head, sword in his hands, ready to land the killing blow. I managed to pull my blade out in time to parry his blow, but I was still bleeding out and struggling to get back on my feet. He began screaming as he swatted his sword at the ground striking the ground where I had just been. I tried speaking to him to try to reason with him, but he would not respond. I could feel the hatred beaming off of him, off of me. Whenever I would try to strike him, he would always evade or block my blow. He kicked me in the chest, causing me to topple over and my blade to fly several feet away from me. He stood over me, his sword pointing downward at my chest. This was my final moment, and I could do nothing to defend myself. I closed my eyes and praised the Solara for what I assumed was the last time.

       However, the blow never came. After several seconds of tense nothingness I opened my eyes, only to find myself in the cave once again with the entrance within view. On top of that, my wounds were not only apparent, it seemed that they had never occurred in the first place. I saw Sir Windfall waiting for me by the mouth of the cave. He had not set up a camp, there was no evidence of a campfire. Had he been standing there all day and night?

       "Good to see you back out here, its been boring the last few minutes without you." I was confused by this statement, but it seemed that it was true. "Confused?" he said, "Don't worry, I thought I was in the Screaming Mountains for months, turns out that I had been gone for less than an hour." I still did not fully comprehend what had happened, but I did not wish to ask any questions. I was silent as we rode back to Blackstone.

      Around the campfire, Sir Windfall asked me about what I had seen, and was not the least bit surprised by my winter wasteland or my encounter with myself, or whatever it seems that was. He laughed, drinking heartily from his waterskin. He began to speak up again, "I must ask though, why have you been so quiet since you left the Thorn?" I looked down at my cup of water, staring into the reflection. "Because I lost. I almost died". He laughed at me, I felt hurt and confused, "Well of course you lost! If you had won then you would have nothing to better yourself. Could you imagine?" I still don't understand what Sir Windfall meant by that, but as the years pass I begin to understand my trial at the Thorn more and more.

      The anger that I felt coming from myself when I fought at the Thorn. I had already felt that, I still feel that. The hatred that comes when I see anything from my past, from my youth. Sir Windfall, and even the Thorn has implied that there is more to serving to the Solara than my vengeance, and they are both right, but by no means is my vengeance something to waste.

Praise the Solara

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Re: Crimson Rebirth (Pathfinder)

TheShadowCaptain
In reply to this post by Sztharaxycus
 Sorry if this is too long guys I got alot of catching up to do!

TL;DR Hellas is Greece-island. Nemea is city where Aggamemnon is exiled from. He is royalty.

Part l
<(-_-<) <( -_- )> (>-_-)> <( -_- )> <(-_-<) <( -_- )> (>-_-)>

Part ll

Hellas; a mountainous country encompassed by sea and cloud. Her craggy cliffs and monstrous fauna make her an unforgiving mother, but one who breeds strong children. Sprinkled across the face of the island, in the valleys and cliffsides, cities of men are found, cities old as the island herself. This is true.
   
 Hard country makes hard men. The people of Hellas are said to be descended from the first men, those heroes and demigods of legend. The Laconians for example, famed for their martial prowess and strength at arms, claim Herakles, son of Zues allfather and slayer of the hydra, as their primogenitor.    

 Among the cities that make up the core of Hellenic politics is Nemea, land of lions. The fighting men of Nemea have a reputation among the Hellenes. The armies of Attica, Illum, and certainly Laconia wage war with soldiers' discipline, but the warriors of Nemea have their warriors' pride. It is a tradition of Nemean kings in war to challenge the enemy to ritual combat between champions. As such, the king surrounds himself with the best warriors of the city, and is always at the front of the fighting himself. No Nemean is a man until he has slain his first foe on the battlefield. This is true. Only then does he have a position on the city council. For this reason some Hellenes regard Nemea as backwater, but culture and philosophy exist just as well there as in all the cities.


 The reign of the Leandrids has been long and bountiful. Since Sarpedon the Foespear ended the tyranny of his mad cousin Menalaus as was predicted by the oracles, Nemea has enjoyed the favor of the gods. There have been twelve generations of Leandrid kings. The reign of Antigonus lll has been cut short by the spears of war, a good death. Cadmus, captain of the Kingsguard and second brother to the king was sent to exile. As was custom when a king was slain in battle. This left his infant son, Sarpedon V, under the care of his youngest brother Lysander, who has taken up the regency until the king comes of age. Power corrupts the heart of man, though. This is true.

 Over sixteen suns the infant grew strong and tall, and many questioned when he would take up the throne. The time of his first battle, and therefore his ascension, was approaching at the perfect time. The Argonians had occupied contested land in the southern province of Megara and the Nemean are not a people to ignore the call of war. This is true. This was not to be Prince Sarpedon's battle alone, though, for he would be accompanied by his two cousins and most closest friends, Achilles son of Lysander and Aggamemnon son of Cadmus.


 The Battle of Megara: The Argonians have many men, but few warriors. The ritual combat was refused and battle formations were set. The young prince slew many men in the initial clash, only surpassed around him by his cousin Aggamemnon who they call the Black Lion of Nemea. The two had always shared a close bond and saw themselves more as brothers, along with Achilles son of the regent. Aggamemnon's skill came from the rigorous training the three of them had to endure as nobility. Being the oldest, Aggamemnon was determined to make himself strong so that he might protect the future king from the fate of his father. The battle quickly turned to rout. The shields of the Black and Golden Lions were dented, their spears broken, and their swords chipped, but battle was won. In the chaos of the death throes of battle, the bloodsoaked Sarpedon was set upon by a company of four Argonians, one among them standing a full head above the others. The giant Argonian cut down two Nemeans with his greatsword without even acknowledging their effort to cease his stride. Aggamemnon knew the giant's target. On his way to protect his prince, he was stopped by the giant's company. Three against one, and he was already tired from battle. He searched for Achilles in hope that his cousin might be able to reach the prince while he fought off the three soldiers, but only caught a glimpse of his crested helmet pursuing the fleeing Argonians. He approached his foes calmly, to rush in invites a quick death. This is true. They came at him as one, unlike the many Argonians he had slain earlier in the battle. Their swords and spears battered his shield, but he was not untrained. Faking a strike, his shield battered a foes head enough to knock his helmet to the side. The distraction was enough to open his neck with sword. The giant had reached Sarpedon. The Prince was no easy prey. He took blows from the giant's sword with his shield and lashed out at his unprotected legs. The giant remained unaffected by the blows. There was no way the prince could survive against such a foe. There was no time for caution. Aggamemnon went at his opponents with reckless abandon. Using shield and fist and sword, he slew his enemies, but at the cost of taking many wounds himself. The giant Argonian had taken the shield from Sarpedon, who now defended himself with his father's sword and the sword taken from the battlefield. Seeing his cousin's desperate plight, he called out to him, all the while throwing a spear which found itself embedded in the giant's thigh. The foe holwed out at Aggamemnon. It was a good sign; he could feel pain. Prince Sarpedon was too well trained to let such an opening go unpunished. Charging with all his remaining strength, he placed the two swords deep into the giants abdomen. Their foe was more beast than man, though. He lashed out and with the strength of the underworld secured an iron grip on Sarpedon. The young prince was no match for the strength of his assailant. Aggamemnon, discarding his shield, could not reach before the beast had removed the spear from his leg and impaled the prince. "Come, Kitten of Nemea, protect your king." the giant said as he cast Sarpedon's corpse at Aggamemnon's feet. Those were the last word of the giant before his wounds took him to the underworld. Aggamemnon wept next to the corpse of his closest friend, cursing what fate had decided for him. The Black Lion though, even overcome with sorrow, would not miss that the accent of the Argonian giant was distinctly eastern Nemean.



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Ankheg Carapace For Sale

Sztharaxycus
Administrator
So what is that ankheg carapace worth? Took some digging but I figured it out. I checked the craft (armorsmithing) skill and to make armor it costs 1/3 of the armor in raw materials. Hide armor costs 15gp so an armorsmith would be willing to pay 5gp for the raw materials (i.e. the hide). Makes sense, right? BUT this:

"The tough, chitinous carapace of an ankheg can be used in the crafting of certain exotic heavy armors."

ooh! Sounds like more than 5 gp. I looked up special materials to see if ankheg hide was listed and it ain't but bone is. Close enough. " Studded leather, scale mail, breastplates, and wooden shields can all be constructed using bone." None of those listed are heavy armors like the ankheg entry suggests but I don't want to jip you so let's go with the lightest heavy armor: banded mail. It costs 250 gp so you can sell your carapace for 1/3 of that: 83 gp. Not a lot but better than 5 gp, huh?
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