Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The Grafhamir Journals 1

In character journal entry follows for my groups first session of the "Wrath of the Righteous" AP.  My character is Henric Grafhamir, Paladin and the third noble son of a old Ustalavic Family that has been part of the Mendevian Crusades sense the beginning.  He thinks they are nothing but honorable and glorious stories, and is in for a bit of a problem when he runs into the truth of them...

Things are worse than the stories my parents and grandparents had told me.  I had planned to arrive in Kenabres to take my oath as a Crusader, but even Iomedae couldn't predict the horrors this day had in store.  When I woke up in the dark, I didn't understand what happened- I tried to help others, despite the confusion we faced.

Then I remembered what happened.  Armasse, the weeklong festival that used to be held for Aroden, was in full swing in Kenabres.  I'd come to Kenabres to say my vows as a Crusader, to finally take my place in the Crusades as the Grafhamirs before me had.  But things went wrong.  The Storm King, I refuse to write his name here, attacked.

Its all a blur, but I remember seeing the Silver Dragon Terendelev being struck as the ground under us fell apart.  Her magick stopped our fall.  That was the last I saw, a silver dragon reaching out to save us as the Storm King tried to strike her down.

We collected ourselves at that point.  In the dark, seven survivors and I found one another.  Iomedae saved us from the same wounds and deaths that met others.  Yoruba, Magaambyan Conjurer and a Elf looking into the story of his parents who'd orphaned him; Makoa the Strong Armed, a half-orc savage who seems to enjoy violence a bit too much, but his strength is to be respected; Helin Ius, a local Tiefling and a thief who I am to try and reform, although she things I can't notice her thieving ways.

There were some wounded too, Anevia Tirablade, a young woman who broke her leg in the fall.  She hasn't said much about herself, but I think she's warmed up to us.  Aravashnial, a Riftwarden who was blinded by the Balor's strikes.  He and Yoruba seemed to have bonded, through whatever arcane matters that bind wizards.  He's been informative... albeit not as morally as I'd like.  Lastly, there was Horgus Gwerm.  Gwerm is a Mendevian Noble.  He respects my own heritage enough that I can lead him to act better than his instincts- but he still has cowardice trapped in him.

There is something more going on, but I trust Iomedae to reveal what is going on with Gwerm, Anevia and Aravashnial in time.  If I need to know it, I'm sure she'll reveal it.  Otherwise, I'll keep myself to my own business.

We sent Makoa and Hel ahead, so they could use their ability to see in the dark to spot danger ahead of us.  There were some dangers, and some interesting things we found.  I became certain of Hel's thieving nature based on a squabble she started with me over potions- something I purposefully asked for that seemed to draw out her greedy nature.  I'm not going to confront her on this, but I plan to try and see if I can steer her to a more righteous path.  I have more immediate concerns, and Iomedae has taught us to lead by example anyway.

They found a Chapel of Torag in the passageway.  It was important to note, because it had been abandoned.  A dwarf in the chapel had become some sort of undead thing in the Chapel proper.  It attacked us, slashing into me.  Mokoa had been quick to slay it, however.

We didn't leave the Chapel right away- despite Gwerm's objections.  I helped to show everyone how to cleanse the Chapel.  We cleaned it and rededicated it- to the best of our ability.  We could feel Torag's blessing at that.  

I became convinced at that point that we had been saved by Iomedae for a greater purpose.  Even though many others had fallen, why just us?  We need to prove ourselves to Iomedae.  We need to lead and help people.

Later on, things almost went horrible, if it hadn't been for a our mysterious Alchemist companion.  A mad Dwarf Wizard ambushed us, his spell knocking Hel and Makoa unconscious.  Another spell nearly killed Yoruba.  I struck at the wizard, not certain how long I could stand... until a bomb from our Alchemist companion left a burnt corpse.  I don't know what we could've done without him.

We continued on, coming across old Crusader statues from the First Crusade.  Aravashnial proposed a theory, suggesting that demon-tainted descendants of the First Crusaders built them, and now dwelled in the tunnels we were wandering.  We saw, not long after that, that he was right.

At one long tunnel, we came across two people- deformed, perhaps, but still people.  We helped save their companion from under a boulder, in return, they took us to where their people lived- a place they call Neathhome.

Perhaps the one part that gave me the most pause along that journey was the pair of Crusaders we found dead.  One of them had a unholy symbol to a Demon Lord.  The Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth.  We left the unholy symbol there, all the better.  One doesn't want to be caught with such a thing in their possession, be it against the Inquisitors, or be it against the taint of such Demon Lords at all.

We arrived in Neathhome.  The local chief or leader (I don't remember getting his title) greeted us, and informed us of another group of those underground who were working with the Templars.  He pledged allegiance with those aboveground.

I'm unsure of going to the surface yet.  Iomedae sent us here.  We are obliged to stop the Templars I think.  If I can, I'm going to suggest to my companions that we try to swear an oath to Iomedae that we'll stop the Templars- to prove ourselves worthy of her attention.  Then again, who knows what they expect to do... But I feel a strong bond forming between us, even if what horrible things I've seen so far don't measure up to the stories my parents and grandparents had told me.
Henric Grafhamir, Arodus 16, 4613 AR