Sleepthief

[vainadaite]

Slots filled. Playtime Mondays 7pm @ GG.

Adlam burst through the doors of the Winking Boar, his travelling clothes dripping from the rain.
"About time you got here." A haggard sailor exclaimed, waving his friend over. "Rain got to you eh? Well, you better get used to wet, it's going to be a long trip to Renyaec."
Adlam wringed out the water in his cap, and hung his cape by the fireplace to dry, "I hope I get there in time, the Lady will want to hear of these tidings." 
The sailor laughed, "Addy, the lady wants to know of everything. She'll probably dismiss your crazy theory, probably some necromancer or something raising all of them crazies."
Adlam stopped and stared at the sailor, his voice lowering to barely a whisper. "Jack. You don't understand." He took out a small wooden box, and Jack could smell the scent of decay from within. Adlam opened it just a crack to reveal a small rat, scampering about the box. The straw and wood was stained with blood, but the rat seemed unharmed and in the pink of health. Without warning, Adlam drew a spike, and drove it through the rat's skull, sending a stream of blood spurting up and onto Jack's face.
"WHAT THE HELL ADDY!" Jack yelled, attracting the attention of the other patrons. He wiped off the blood and grinned at them sheepishly as they returned to their drinks.
Jack glared at his friend, "what the hell was that?"
"Shhh... watch." 
Jack looked at the corpse of the rat, it's blood soaking the straw and the inside of the box. Gruesome, then again he never liked rats, although they always found their way onto his ship and ate through the provisions. Damn rodents, raccoons were worse though they - wait, did that rat blink? 
He looked up to see Adlam grinning back at him, and he knew then, he did not imagine it. He watched as the blood from the rat's wound coagulated and stopped. The rat's eyes blinked once, twice and as if nothing happened, began scampering around the box, gnawing at the bloodied wood.
"Bloody hell..." Jack whispered. The rumours were true... the dead, were not dead.



About the Campaign
This campaign is a horror / roleplay heavy free-form campaign will challenging fights that will kill players. Every action has it's consequence, and alignment adjustments WILL be enforced. PK is ill-advised but not out of the question.

Character Creation:

• Anything goes, 3.5ed stuff are okay with me as long as you have the resource, 25 point buy, 2 traits no restrictions.
• Characters start at level 3, 2500gold to start.
• Do list down your character's backstory, motivations and whatever goals you have for your character. 
• You can choose to belong to one of the factions below, or remain factionless.
• Note: Capping players to 6. 

What you need to know!

The campaign setting is set in a custom world made of multiple planes of existence - The Material Plane, Plane of Good, Evil and the Lesser planes in between (think of a multi layered egg with earth aka the material plane in the middle). 

The game takes place on a fictional world where the earth has been split into roughly 3 main continents and a smattering of islands on the west after an incident known as the Sundering 300 years ago that has rent most of the world uninhabitable. The larger two continents are uninhabitable due to strong elemental effects - The North is frigid cold and covered in ice, the East a dangerous forest with poisonous marshes and toxic fumes, the South is a scorching hot desert and the West is a smattering of Islands with dangerous shallows and strong currents.

Most of chartered civilisation occurs on the main island known as the "Heart of the World", it's biggest city-state is Renyaec. 

Renyaec
All characters start off in the city of Renyaec (Rhen-yas). Renyaec is situated by the ocean and at the centre of various trade routes, it welcomes any and everyone. In Renyaec, wealth is power and anyone from any culture can carve their mark there, provided they have the gold to show.

Renyaec is ruled by the council of 11 - made out of representatives from the 7 Merchant Houses, the Priory, the Fiscal Union and the Uncaste. The eleventh party member is decided by vote, giving that house 2 seats in the council. A Moot is held every 6 years to decide upon the members of the council.  For the past century, a tight alliance between three of the merchant princes and fiscal union has led to a dichotomy, where the alliance is strongly in power


The Factions

House Shaitan
Requirements: Wisdom and Charisma at least 14.
Goal: In the business of information, Shaitan operatives are always on the quest for the latest information and rumours on the grapevine.
Crest: A white face with no mouth.
Relations: Friendly rivalry with Germaine
Benefits: All Shaitan members have a magic tattoo engraved upon their skin, this gives them +2 resistance to charm spells and prevents enemies from reading their minds. It also works as a form of identification. Shaitan members can always find information where others might not.

Lady Nightshade commands Shaitan, which boasts most of Renyaec's most wanted assassins. However, Shaitan's real value lies in the power of information, and business is usually conducted in the ways of information. There are Shaitan operatives throughout the world, and secrets can always be traded - for a price.

House Vraxys
Requirements: Arcane spellcasters, must max knowledge (arcana). Must belong to Vraxys bloodline, human or human blood required (half elves, aasimar etc okay!)
Goal: Family first, advancement in the arcane arts second.
Crest: Gold dragon on a red background
Relations: 4 way alliance - Vraxys, Legato, Germaine and Fiscal Union. Unfriendly to Shaelyn
Benefits: Spellcaster level is +1 when determining spell DCs and effects. Allowed to take 20 on any knowledge arcana rolls even in combat.

Vraxys is overseen by Vicount Vraxys Vraxys IV. Members of Vraxys all sport red hair and green eyes. They're usually referred to as the "inbreds" due to the fact that they marry within family in order to preserve their spellcasting bloodline that they deem superior. Illegitimate children are accepted, provided they sport the Vraxys look.

House Legato
Requirements: None
Goal: Power can be attained, by force
Crest: Sword and Shield
Relations: 4 way alliance - Vraxys, Legato, Germaine and Fiscal Union.
Benefits: 100gp salary per week, rises as ranks go up.

Legato believes in force, and Legionnaire Legato leads the most powerful army in Renyaec. Soldiers, mercenaries and sellswords are popular in Legato as they take anyone who wields a blade into their army and provides them with food and lodging - far better fate than a life on the streets. Spellcasters are less popular, but those that survive under the militaristic regime usually find themselves in good position

House Dumar
Requirements: Non-Renyaec native
Goal: Equality of man, abolishment of Slavery.
Crest: Man and woman holding hands under a tree.
Relations: Hostile with Germaine
Benefits: None.

House Dumar is currently the weakest of all the houses, made out of immigrants who moved over. Unfortunately, they found themselves on the wrong side of the alliance due to their anti-slavery stance and Germaine's power alliance. They are asset rich though, owning various gold and jewel mines.

House Germaine
Requirements: Non Lawful, non Good.
Goal: Money makes the world go round.
Crest:  Stack of coins.
Relations: 4 way alliance - Vraxys, Legato, Germaine and Fiscal Union. Friendly rivalry with Shaitan. Hostile to Dumar
Benefits: Germaine is known for their wealth, and shopkeepers often open up "exclusive" inventories to these people. Additionally, Germaine members can always find lodging at one of their various establishments throughout the world.

Germaine is not afraid to take on deeds that are less than desirable in civilized society - slavery, prostitution, black market organ trade ... they do it all. Their contacts make them privy to much gossip and insider information, which they do not hesitate to sell to Shaitan - for the own price. Germaine is also known to host lavish parties that usually end up in great orgies that last days. Germaine currently controls the council with 2 seats.

House Shaelyn
Requirements: Favoured class must be non-spellcaster.
Goal: To find out a logical explanation for everything
Crest: Blue fire.
Relations: Unfriendly to Vraxys.
Benefits: All alchemical materials are bought at 1/2 price. +2 to any craft alchemical checks.

Shaelyn are scientists, they don't believe that magic and gods have any hold over human life and devote their lives to finding out logical explanations for everything. Alchemists, Gunslingers and others who embrace technology find their niche in Shaelyn. Unfortunately, this puts them at odds with Vraxys most of the time.

House Aralis
Requirements: Lawful Good alignments, bludgeoning weapons or barefisted ONLY
Goal: World Peace
Crest: Two doves in a nest.
Relations: None
Benefits: No penalty when fighting to deal non-lethal damage. Free Improved Unarmed Feat. +5 on all diplomacy and bluff checks. Due to their non-killing belief, they are accepted worldwide as diplomats and are at least tolerated in all societies. Note: they lose their benefits once they kill, except for improved unarmed.

House Aralis are pacifists, and although well versed in martial arts, they do not believe in killing and instead believe in the spiritual aspect of fighting. They are honorable and loyal and make good bodyguards and diplomats.

The Priory
Requirements: Good / Neutral Alignments only. 
Goal: To cleanse the world from sickness / destroy the undead.
Crest: Silver Chalice with a cross emblazoned on it.
Relations: Hostile to Uncaste.
Benefits: Characters from the Priory receive free-healing/restoration and can always get Silver version of their weapons at no additional cost. (a weapon can also be upgraded with a silver coating if the return to the priory)

Led by Prior Chellan, an old man in his 60s the Priory doesn't take part much in politics. The "Switzerland" of the council, the Priory's position is there by tradition more than anything. The Priory collects tithes from their members, and thus their lack of wealth leads to their poor political position in Renyaec. Clerics, Paladins and do-gooders set to wipe the undead out of the world belong to the Priory. They also frequently take in orphans and the destitute.


The Fiscal Union (Basically the IRS)
Requirements: Lawful Alignments only.
Goal: Raising taxes from citizens, accumulating wealth.
Crest: Golden balancing scales, on one side a stack of coins, and on the other a sword.
Relations: 4 way alliance - Vraxys, Legato, Germaine and Fiscal Union.
Benefits: 10% discount on any item purchased (subject to rank). At level 1, the discount can be applied to any item of 1000gp and below.

The Fiscal Union collects Taxes from the citizens of Renyaec and makes all government financial decisions. Corruption is rampant in the upper levels of the Fiscal Union, but due to backing from three of the merchant houses, they are untouchable. Their crest represents their desire for balance, and the force they would employ to maintain it. The Fiscal Union also controls the Army of Renyaec, on top of their own personal troops. Lawmen, soldiers, politicians and sweet-talkers find themselves part of the Fiscal Union.

The Uncaste
Requirements: Neutral / Evil Alignments.
Goal: Seek immortality through undeath
Relations: Hostile to the Priory
Crest: A skeletal hand
Benefits: Pact with the dead including ghosts/liches/vampires etc that do not allow them to attack each other on sight. Attacks have to be declared.

Uncaste are made out of necromancers and others that do not fear the dead. Led by a kobold lich called Two-lives, they managed to secure a contract with the dead. Uncaste are automatically friendly with all undead and are not allowed to be killed/attacked on sight, although that works both ways.

[Stephen]

Staklo Haubica, human male, agent of Shaitan, neutral
Str 16, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 14, Wiz 14, Cha 14
Fighter 3, Rogue (Poisoner) 1
Feats: Power Attack, 2-wpn Fighting, Double Slice
Wears fashionable armoured coat, armed with paired shortswords (with backkup kukris). Also sports chakrams and darts.
Alt racial trait: dual-focused.

Sketchy backstory/motivation/goals
Enrolled against his will in a Legato academy, possibly due to family debt. Railed against the regimented brutality. Paying his way out probably entailed betraying his family. This course of action caught the attention of House Shaitan. He readily signed up seeing Shaitan's methods as sophisticated and coveting the tattoo that would keep his thoughts secret, even from other Shaitan operatives. He's now fully subscribed to the dog-flips-over-dog world and participates in this mercilessly, though he's patient and can nurse plans of revenge for years. He's engaged now in developing his own network, within and beyond House Shaitan, quietly filing away whatever leverage or debts he can exploit later.
    He respects Lady Nightshade for the meticulous execution of her plans and careful manipulation of her pawns. But despite this, his ultimate goal is to depose her.
    He knows there's a gathering of up-and-coming players coming together soon. There must be something stiring here, so Staklo modified some paperwork to get him assigned to keeping tabs on this group. This could be the mission to get him the attention of Lady Nightshade so he can inveigle his way closer to her inner circle.

Intro
The large furtive man was clearly agitated. He didn't slow his breathing until he was in the apartment and had slid home the several deadbolts of the door. Striking a tindertwig it was only in the sudden flare that he realised he wasn't alone.
    "Dear me Gascon", began the pale figure seated at the window overlooking the alley, "it almost seems like you've been avoiding me."
   "Staklo! You're here!"
    The seated man’s attention was fixed absently on the narrow street below. Without looking up he gave a charitable tilt of his head and hinted curl of lower lip to indicate this statement of the obvious could be passed over. "I wanted to talk to you Gascon."
    A sudden hiss of pain from Gascon saw the room plunged once more into darkness as he dropped the tindertwig that had burnt to his fingers. He fumbled for another and lit a taper. In the new flare of light the figure at the window was now turned directly towards him, sat erect in the chair with his pale hands neatly on his lap like some sinister etiquette master. On his throat, left of his adam's apple in ominous brooding witness, was the tattoo of a white mouthless face.
    "So the rumours are true, that you're with Shaitan now", Gascon managed with only a trace of a stammer as he lit the lamp on the table between them.
    "Rumours about me Gascon? How interesting. Pray tell, what are they saying? And who's doing the telling?"
    "Well for one, they say that House Shaitan is run by assassins."
    "My my Gascon, is that why you seem a little agitated? A proud Legato officer such as yourself? I wouldn't put any store in rumours like that. As for me, I'm just a courier. A messenger if you like."
    "Oh yes? And I suppose you’re here with a message for me?"
    The two men shared a military bearing. Both were broad shouldered, clearly strong, and moved with the grace of killers, though the seated man betrayed a delicateness of constitution that would have made military life an ordeal. Both wore long armoured coats, discrete but practical in these days. Gascon felt his Legato standard-issue gladius reassuringly scabbarded beneath his coat and the hefty dirk on the opposite hip. Staklo's weapons weren't immediately obvious from this position, but Gascon had heard that the dropout had eschewed Legato's standard weapons despite the years of training he'd received in them. The rumours were he'd adopted the jungle kukri of all things, a primitive blade, more axe than dagger; an effective chopping weapon, but one that sacrificed all ability to parry. Anyone choosing to wield a pair of these would have to be a fanatic.
    "But where are my manners? A drink then, since you're here?"
    Staklo assented with a gracious by-all-means nod and a broad grin. "I knew I could depend on your hospitality."
    Gascon fetched glasses and a decanter and poured two generous measures of a fiery amber liquid. "Old friendships", suggested Gascon and raised his glass.
    "Old memories", responded Staklo and the two men took a deep draught.
    "Smooth" choked out Staklo and the larger man laughed before topping up the glasses.
    "So Staklo, to what do I have the honour?"
    "Oh, it's more a courtesy call; a small matter. Just that your credit line at Aethertop was getting a little long and I've been asked to confirm that you're good for it."
    At this Gascon's face turned black. "Courier you say? Or repo man?"
    Staklo set the glass down gently and spread his hands wide. "Zereft's honest truth Gascon, my errand is one of simple information. Baryax merely wants to know you have the means to pay and he asked House Shaitan for details. Since we go back some I thought I'd drop by and say hello and seek your reassurance."
    "Well you can tell Baryax he'll get his money in full”, spat out Gascon. “I just need three more days. I'm going to the family estate at Harcastle to get some assets. See this", he said turning to the shelf and pulling out a small red-leather-bound volume. "A treatise from the years just after the Sundering. Worth a fair bit. And there are plenty more of these. Baryax will get his money."
    Staklo stood up. "Then I can see that everything is in order. I won't hold you up any longer." Lifting his glass from the table he offered, "To good fortune".
    "Good fortune" Gascon reciprocated and the two men downed another good measure. Staklo spluttered and his eyes watered.
    Gascon grinned again. "This is the good stuff Staklo! Man, you always were a wimp. Savour it though; are you not getting those rich toffee notes, a shade of peach? Touch of cinnamon?"
    "A hint, perhaps, of fugu fish?" offered Staklo, now rather muffled and remote. Gascon's lips tingled disconcertingly as the room receded vertiginously.

[comradechris]

Dibbity dib dib!

[roderick]

Me 2..

[Daryl Kong]

Codename: Anferno

Human (Disguised) Male,
Corporate Mage (Disguised),
Agent and Enforcer of House Germaine

High Dex & Cha
Good Int & Con
Average Str & Wis




The Winking Boar,
Renyaec, the Heart of the World,
2313hrs.

"Were you followed?"

"No... I don't think I was. Here's the thing you wanted, now where is my gold?!"

"Easy there, champ. Let me buy you a drink first."
The Hooded One takes the item, pockets it in his coat and signals to the bartender.
"Good Sir! The Triple-X Wacky on the rocks for me and my friend here."

"Look, I really don't want to waste time here..."

"Milieu look, you've done us a great job and your gold is waiting for you at the usual General Goods Store. But please, let us toast to properly close this deal."

The Bartender comes up to the pair and serves the drinks. The Hooded One senses something is wrong.

"To a better future and living, my friend."

The two glasses clinks and the Hooded One drops his drink. In that split second, he grabs Milieu's collar with his right hand and pulls him down as he utters a quick spell, swings up his left hand and blasts the Bartender in the face.

"WHAT DA....?!" Milieu screams.

"YOU WERE..." The Hooded One pulls Milieu and drags him low quickly towards the back exit. The crowded tavern is now in chaos as patrons scramble for exits while uniformed guards rushed in through the main entrance. "...FOLLOWED!"

The two quickly make their escape and enters the dark alley behind the Winking Boar.
Two guards can be seen moving in at the end of the alley and two blasts later, the way was clear.

"Go get your gold and leave! Save your family!"
Both men head separate ways, into the cold night of the over-crowded city of hopefuls and ambitions, the last bastion of civilization in an untamed world.

[Richard Loh]

"Summon the mindbender!" shouts the guard sergeant of House Vraxys.

Trembling in fear of the dreaded mindbenders, the prisoner paled significantly. Mercyhaven, an asylum in name, infamous torture chambers at best, houses the cruelest interrogators on the face of Renyaec. Mindbenders are the worst of the lot, as they inflict emotional scars, scars so deep that most often, they drive the patients insane.

While the torture chambers of the other guilds are physical, it can heal with time. Here, under the watchful eyes of the mindbenders, such tortures are mental and most of the "patients" with the group have never recovered. Such mental traumas has only been inflicted for fun and those who can drive most of the patients insane the quickest are welcomed as celebrities. It is rumoured that even the dreaded illithids, the mind-flayers are impressed with the ruthless efficiency of the mindbenders.

In response to the summons, a frail robed and hooded young man sidles in, his sandaled feet not making a whisper. Looking up from beneath his hood, his eyes matching the sergeant's, the guard involuntarily takes a step back at the intensity of the gaze. "You are dismissed."

Whimpering slightly, the guard quickly dismisses himself. Echoing the guard himself, the prisoner, who is tied to the wall with manacles holding his legs and arms apart in an akimbo position, tried to steel his resolve. 'I have endured such tortures at their wizards and have spoken nothing! I should be able to resist! And when they finally kill me, at least I know that my wife and son will be safe. Please let him kill me fast.'

"Not so soon, my friend. Milieu is your name, isn't it? Rest assured that your wife and son will be safe if only you co-operate with me. Surely, you know that House Vraxys penchant for destructive anger can be rather quick if you are un-cooperative. Don't look so surprised. Surely, you know what the term 'mindbender' means, don't you?"

Nodding, Milieu started spilling the beans in the hope that his family will be spared from retribution. After knowing all there is to know, Milieu looked into the stranger's eyes and noticed a flicker, which looked strangely like the shimmering of a mirage on the desert sands, and expected death to come swiftly. "You promised my family safety! Please honour it, my lord. I should never have joined House Germaine, but I need to feed my family!"

The robed man coughed and with a rasping voice, continues "You are free to go home. Thank you for your co-operation with the mindbenders. Your release will be settled at the gate"

The prisoner's shocked expression is amusing to one such as Emeron who enjoys seeing hope given to people. "Thank you, my lord! Thank you! I will never forget your kindness! I'll get out of House Germaine as soon as possible!"

Hurrying back to his family's farmlands on the outskirts of Renyaec, he sees his family farmstead in flames and his wife and son running, screaming towards him, with an orcish pack at their back chasing them. "NOOO!!!!!" Running towards them, he was felled by an arrow to his knee, and as he falls, he sees that his four-year old son, a charming little boy by the name of Roland, whose smile lights up his life every single time, gets cut down by an orcish double-axe. "NOOOO!!! Leave them alone!!"

And his wife, was caught by a band of orcs and the results of a human in the hands of orcs often resulted in unnatural off-spring known as half-orcs. Crawling towards the band of orcs, he finally reached his wife and held her torn, bleeding form. Tears blinding his eyes, his shattered heart have no fire left in him as a wicked orcish blade swung down on his neck, then blackness.

In cold sweat, Milieu realised that he woke up to a terrible nightmare, and that, the job for House Germaine must be playing tricks with his conscience. 'Well,' thinking to himself, 'such silly silly nightmares. Whew! It should never happen in my lifetime!' Walking back to his family farmstead, he saw that his farmstead is in flames and his family is running towards him. As luck would have it, an arrow caught him in the knee again, with orcs being the invaders, but now with entirely different fates waiting for his wife and son.

Stepping into the cool, dank cell, the sergeant stepped in. "Master Emeron, is the deed done yet? Do we have the answers and will we ever be expecting any trouble from this man?"

"House Germaine is behind this heist, but it is no matter. With hundreds of years of documented records on ways to die, to be tortured and dismembered, how many lifetimes do you think it'd be before he can come to his senses, if he ever will? Even now, while we're still talking, he would have seen his family perished at least ten times in his own mind. No, my friend. It'd be a really long time before we have to worry about him again."

Strolling past the sergeant, the sergeant shuddered involuntarily. He knows never to get on the wrong side of House Vraxys, lest he is incarcerated in Mercyhaven. An asylum, for the insane, by the insane.

[RancidHall]

As he stood within the ever flickering boundary of consciousness, stoically basking under the warmth of it's flame, he waits. Bleeding memories of elation and sorrow assault the calm of the dark, violently twisting and blinding, he waits. The stones drip in dissonance, laden with the raw stench of agony and decay. It pools, gently, deliberately, like a new born finding it's way, naive, secret. It washes over the foul contraption, a relic of immeasurable disillusion, an alter in many ways to a pagan god long since forgotten.

It whimpers...

It's tears of desperation feeding the frenzy of the deafening silence. "Roland..." it whispers, barely surviving under the weight of it's breath. A distraction from the horrors of reality, a chilling reminder he is all too familiar with. Was this not the world he knew, or a new imaginarium of the horrors he recklessly seeks. His sojourn into the far reaches of the shattered world has left many a question as to their nature, and the secrets he has gleamed there. Could the lands beyond the gates of civilization hold the key to their survival, the promise of greater riches, or a darker truth that herald the end of all life as they knew it. The answers reside solely in his mind, deep beneath the chaotic turmoil of his beliefs.

He stands, purposefully, effectively concluding his sympathy for the shell of a man in the cell before him. The hustle and bustle of the world comes to life around him as crawlers of the night start pouring in, he knew it was time.

The stale air stirs as the guards begin the change in shift. With a deep rumbling, and the slightest sparking in his eyes, he breaks the bonds of his incarceration, dropping the heavy manacles beside the lifeless body of his mindbending benefactor, taking leave down the corridor. The intensity around him stars electric passing the myriad torture chambers and rotting cells, as the guards, echoing in all directions, close in to their posts. Cornered by the threat of detection, he gains a whiff of the coming storm from a slit in the wall and pauses in the moment to center his gaze as though staring far beyond the earthly realm. In the deafening moment of a peeling thunder, he vanishes in a large blast of smoke, wafting swiftly through the labyrinth, past the guards. As the hour of judgement comes to hand, he reforms back into his human appearance before the keepers of his prison.

"What is the meaning of this! How did you get here!?"

He regains his bearings and stares curiously at the well uniformed man, dressed with an innumerable display of pins and medals.

"You've picked the wrong place to show, dog!" "We're gonna' enjoy wiping that insolence from your face, no one survives Mercyhaven!"

As the armed men surround him, he narrows his gaze and trades daggers with the sergeant.

"Do you not hear it?" "The storm, she gathers."

"And she comes, for you..."

The walls begin to defy convention, corroding at an alarming rate, the sergeant falls back, wrestling for shelter from the strange phenomenon. As the structure stands exposed to the elements, a great peel of thunder rings through the clouds once more. The sergeant, frozen in fear by the unrelenting gale force stares right into the heart of the storm, and with a surgical flash reflected across the whites of his eyes, he had experienced, first hand, the mercy he had become accustomed to.

Weathering the storm, he makes his way down from the institute, disappearing seamlessly into the slave squabbles of Renyaec.


Dr. Varin Qui'dzar
Lawful Neutral / Factionless / Menhir Savant 1 / Eagle Shaman 4 / Sensei 1 / Medium Size / 6 ft. / 160 lbs.
Dark Black Hair / Purple Eyes / Beige Skin
STR 10, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 14, WIS 20, CHA 10
Archon Blooded / Native Outsider / Dark Vision / Incorruptible
/ Magical Knack
Woodland Stride / Eagle Totem Transformation / Trackless Step / Resist Nature's Lure / Wisdom Armor Bonus / Unarmed Strike / Stunning Fist
Advice: Inspire Courage
Shape Shift: Predator Form (Panther), Ariel Form (Raven)
Spirit Sense: Undead, Fey, Outsiders, Astral, Ethereal, Incorporeal
Celestial Resistance: Acid 5, Cold 5, Electricity 5
Languages: Common, Celestial, Drudic, Sylvan, Elven, Draconic, Giant
Spell Focus: Conjuration / Greenbound Summoning / Ashbound Summoning / Dodge
Diplomacy 6 / Escape Artist 6 / Fly 11 / Handle Animal 4 / Heal 14 / All Knowledge 6 / Linguistics 7 / Perception 16 / Sense Motive 9 / Spellcraft 11 / Stealth 6 / Survival 9

[roderick]

The stranger paid no heed to the gore that covered his blade or his elbows. His steps remained measured and purposeful. He had taken his time this night. His focus diamond. And so they had died. Quickly or slowly, soundlessly or preceded by screams of utmost agony, they had died. until the last and best of them remained. The shadows seemed disturbed in his presence, writhing and twisting, seemingly alive, the heralds of the grave.

Who the hell are you? the old orc challenged, his knuckles white on the haft of a mighty battle axe. You won't take me that easily.

The stranger cocked his head and considered, then shrugged. I am Dace of the House Aralis, well formerly of the House Aralis...came the bitter reply.

The fight lasted mere seconds pitting sheer power against sublime skill and speed. Looking at the steaming corpse, Dace nodded solemnly and whispered to the dark. You never really stood a chance.I loved her...

[Daryl Kong]

A successful Knowledge Local or Diplomacy (DC 10 for both) on a House Germaine member would reveal the following information about Anferno...

SPOILER: Click to show

Anferno is a codename, real name unknown, for the current rising star within the lower ranks of House Germaine.
Members who had traveled with Anferno during his initiation steps to becoming a full fledged member, speak of the time he tracked down a missing shopkeeper and learnt about why he has not being paying his dues. Anferno had discovered that the shopkeeper has a very sick teenage daughter who he was spending all his gold on to purchase medicine. It was not known how Anferno managed to persuade the shopkeeper to hand over his sick teenage daughter over to House Germaine, where she received the best medical attention and recovered fully. The shopkeeper is now back at work and paying his dues, while the daughter has been coerced into the flesh trade to pay for her medical bills.

Other members also speak off the time Anferno had accompanied some seniors to a secret trade deal where it all went south. Only Anferno made it out alive and with both merchandise and gold. But one story was the most unbelievable. It was said that a group of dark arts cultists had murdered a few of House Germaine members when they made fun of them and Anferno went after those cultists. Without waiting for backup, Anferno entered the abandoned house alone and made it out later without a scratch, leaving all the dead cultists bodies behind.

The members describe Anferno as a reserved task-oriented individual who is obviously trying to climb the ranks of House Germaine. He wears hooded longcoat with the latest style of noble's outfit and carries two katanas on his back. He also wears this strange device, two tainted glass pieces attached to steel that is worn over his eyes. It is noted that no one has ever since Anferno using the katana to hit anyone, only to intimidate...

[comradechris]

His foes, nay, his inconveniences fell before him. Their bodies thudding to the ground, gurgling their last breaths, their throats ripped open by his talons. No fear, no remorse, no hesitation - only vengeance. Vengeance for his mother, who was deceived and yet punished for it.

Deeper he went, closer to his quarry. More guards came, but this time, someone was smart enough to bring a priest. Designating her as a priority target, he dashes towards her and snaps her neck. Unable to channel, the threat was neutralised. Prioritisation and speed, key factors of survival, a lesson he learnt during his life. Having been exiled to beyond the city’s protection with his mother when he was still a baby, he learnt to fend for himself fairly quickly. Such was life when one did not have walls, laws nor money to hide behind.

Two turns, one corridor and a dozen guards later, he came to a large set of doors. He ripps them apart, and triggers a trap. Caustic liquid splashes on him. His garments hiss as the liquid eats away at them but his skin is untouched. Grinning, he enters the room and gazes upon his quarry. A middle aged man, obese and quivering, begs for his life.

“Please, please! Whoever is paying you, I’ll triple it!”

He grins and gestures to his scrawny form with his talons and hisses, “What ussssse is gold to me?”

The fat one pales and gulps, “Oh gods… who… who sent you? Have mercy on me please!!”

“Merssssy? You know not itsssss meaning. You did not bessssstow it on Mother. Exssssiled her when sshhe wassss innossssent.” He approaches the fat one, whose eyes widen in realisation.

“I’m sorry!! I didn’t know what to do!! I wasn’t thinking straight. I was worried how my peers would see me,” sobs the fat one.

He places his talons on the edges of the rotund face, “Do not worry. If fasssse issss all you want, I sshhall take nothing elssssssse”.

The fat one screams as his face his ripped off. He screams and screams and screams as he rolls in agony, while his attacker keeps to his word, not laying another finger upon him but watches in silence.

The taloned figure watches in silence, grinning as the debt of suffering is repaid, remembering all those years that his mother and he had to fend for themselves outside the city. It was a death sentence that was dealt to them, all because one man’s pride was greater than his love for his wife.

Eventually the screaming dies down to a mewl, before ending in silence. His thoughts come back to the present, and the future. Now that he who exiled his mother lay dead, his thoughts came to the one who started it all. His biological father, who had assumed the form of his father-in-name and lay with his mother, was now his next target.

It would be a huge task to find an outsider whose true form was hidden even to the woman he lay with, and the planes are many. But then again, he had all the time in the world. His thoughts are interrupted by the slight rattling of chains. He turns to a wall and steps closer, noticing a hidden switch. He flips it and the wall moves aside to reveal a hidden stairway.

He descends and enters to a hidden torture chamber. There is a figure chained to the wall on the far end. He steps closer. The figure is frail old man, with scars all over his body. His head lifts, and tired eyes gaze upon the intruder in fear and surrender.

“Uncle Ssssaleem…” the name escapes from his mouth as he recognises the figure from memory. He was a manservant from the household who would now and then brave his way out of the city to smuggle supplies to them. Of all the members of the household, he was the only one who did something to alleviate their suffering.

Old Saleem seems surprised that the creature would know his name. He leans forward to study the emaciated visage. A moment later, he smiles painfully, and sobs, “Oh… Young Master.”

Looking upon the pitiful form of the manservant, who no doubt must have been caught trying to smuggle things out to them, the intruder raises his arm and brings his talons down in one swift stroke.

Outside, two hooded figures, with cloaks embroided with a skeletal hand, observe and look at a small hourglass.

“Efficient,” comments one.

“Indeed,” affirms the other.

“And all he wants is to track down an outsider?”

The other figure nods.

“Does he have a name?”

“Disaad ibn Ja’ad.”

[Daryl Kong]

Session #1:

When the TradeWinds mysteriously returns and docks back at Renyaec, the Council sends its best men to investigate the derelict ship. The summons were issued and city's finest answered its call. And to ensure a better mission success, a few more mooks were hired.

The party bravely but cautiously approached the Tradewinds and encountered the living dead within its bloodied decks. The ship was cleared out and two mission items were recovered as evidence...

1) Scrying Device (Ship's Black Box)
2) Captain's Log

The party however unknowing triggered an area effect teleportation spell and was sent to a crypt. There, they met an agent of the Shaitan whom betrayed the party as soon as the party engaged more undead forces.

As the party stepped outside of the crypt, they discovered that they were in a village that was covered by a dome of magical darkness and tons of undead were crowding around a church with a big bon fire outside its main doors. The party quickly made their way to a nearby forge and barricaded the place and sorted out the loot they had acquired so far...


Check latest post.


The party hatched a clever plan and distract the undead by burning up another abandon farm house nearby, while sneaking to the back of the church where they entered safety. The survivors gathered around the party, both sides talked, helped out whatever they can and decide on their next plan to escape the village of undead.

[Daryl Kong]

As the party rests up and does their own thing for the 'night', Anferno approaches Master Emeron to... and before Anferno could even utter a word, the Mindbender already knew what he wanted, to open the scrying device and see what data it had recorded.

Anferno then speaks to the villagers with his diplomacy +10 & bluff +10, ensuring them that the party will lead them out of this place and to the safety of Renyaec where House Germaine will attend to their needs and help them build a new home. A little girl then comes up to Anferno and offers a loaf of bread which he accepts. He then picks up the girl and carries her, creating an picture perfect image of him being the savior, a shining beacon of hope among the crowd.

House Germaine,
by the people,
for the people,
we the people.


Anferno also call for any brave men and women who would assist the party as mook specialists, ie trap disabler, lock picker, scout, etc and maybe even a cleric. And would reward them plenty of silver to rebuilt their lives after they make it to Renyaec.

[Richard Loh]

Reaching for the holy water x2, Emeron takes it and stows it inside the folds of his arms. Out of sight of the Shaitan agent, and in the presence of Anferno, eh wait, your character's name is Anferno??? takes out the scrying device appropriated from the cheeky rogue when he was paralyzed, and attempts to see what it has recorded.

[Stephen]

Staklo doesn't know for certain who took the orb, but he strongly suspects the inbred 'bender. He'll pay close attention to what the redhead is up to.

Staklo took the first potion of CMW we came across to replace his own use of a pot of CLW.

[roderick]

Character name: Mai Ren Qing
Human Swordsage 3
Str: 18 Dex: 14 Wis: 16 Con: 10 Int: 10 Cha: 10
Feats: Dodge, Improved unarmed Strike, Power Attack, Adaptive Style
HP: 21
Traits: Suspicious, Sword Scion
Magical Equipment: Mithral Chain Shirt+1, Cloak of Resistance +1, Longsword +1, Ioun stone Torch, Potion of Barkskin
AC: 21, FF: 18, Touch: 16.
W : 8, R: 7, F: 3
Skill pts: 21
Sense Motive: 11
Acrobatics: 8
Jump: 10
Stealth: 8
Heal: 9
Knowledge (Local) : 5
Knowledge (Nature): 5
Swim: 9
BAB: 2
Initiative : 3
To hit: 8, CMB: 6, CMD: 19
Stances known: Island of Blades. Child of Shadows
Manoeuvres: Shadow Blade Technique, Sapphire Nightmare Blade,Moment of Perfect Mind, Mountain Hammer Strike, Baffling Defence, Emerald Razor, Burning Blade.