For several weeks, excitement has been building
in Kenabres—Armasse is coming! Traditionally an
opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to
study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden’s
death, this holy day has become more about training
commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining
new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass
jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments,
and other festival events.
In Kenabres, the festival (which takes place on 16 Arodus) is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on thefront line of the war. Smiles on faces normally marred
by downcast eyes and furrowed brows do wonders for city
morale in the weeks leading up to the event.
Armasse is a citywide celebration, but the majority
of the event, including its jousting matches and other
entertainments, takes place at Clydwell Plaza, just west
of the cathedral. It is here that the campaign begins,
with the PCs in attendance near the cathedral’s facade—
they’ve been lucky enough to get good spots to observe
the opening ceremonies at noon.
The players should take a few moments to describe their characters to each other and make introductions.
Vorshek stands six feet tall, with grey/black skin and large grey horns on his forehead, and smaller ones on his chin where a goatee would grow. His feet are clawed and resemble those of a reptile. He weighs two hundred and twenty pounds, and is very muscular, with a dexterity that one would not expect from one so large. As inhuman as he looks, though, he commands a presence that makes those around him feel safe, no matter how dire their circumstances. However, he learned at an early age how to use his imposing visage to his advantage, when intimidation was more important than diplomacy.
Vorshek sits in the front row, a place afforded him by his popularity from the temple. It seems as though many people recognize him, and take no second glances at his otherworldly looks. Those who have never seen him before, though, stare unabashedly with mouths agape.
Vorshek seems to not notice any of this, however, as he watches the opening ceremonies intently, as though looking for threats in the shadows. His massive sword, Sempiternal Vengeance, leans against his seat, loose in its scabbard. Those who know him, and of his god given dreams, seem worried when they see that look on his face, thinking he may have been sent some kind of warning from Ragathiel. The truth, however, is that he is simply looking to see if he can catch a glimpse of the contestants in the celebratory duels and jousts.
Not seeing what he is looking for, he sighs and leans back in his seat, taking a huge bite of a roasted roc leg, and absentmindedly running a finger over the engravings in the crosspiece of his sword. Those who know of Ragathiel, or can read Abyssal, would know that the engravings are the holy text of Ragathiel, red letters on black metal, promising swift and brutal vengeance against those who would bring evil to the world.
Finishing the giant piece of meat in a few bites, Vorshek looks at the people around him, to see if any of them might have enough knowledge of martial tactics and skills to have a good conversation with while the day's events play out.
Thanguron,pronounced, Than-JER-on Stands five foot eight inches tall with a slender, but muscular frame due to his time training with the Order of the Shield in Nerosyan. His hair is dirty blonde and eyes bright green in color.
Making his way to his seat, he notices a strange creature sitting next to his own. It very much resembles a devil, with its curved horns and sharp teeth. Giving the creature the benefit of the doubt, as Thanguron didn't believe it would just be out in the open among the large population of Kenabres if it wasn't accepted. He bows to the creature and introduces himself. Greetings, my name is Thanguron Silverheart, cavalier to the Order of the Shield. I believe my seat is next to yours. Shall we see what city has brought to us this day for entertainment?
Vorshek gives the elf a sort of appraising look before he begins to speak, but then genuinely smiles. When he speaks, his voice is deep, likened to that of a large dragon, though it's not threatening, but hearty and joyful.
Greetings, Thanguron! I am Vorshek Firesoul, paladin of Ragathiel! One could not hope for better company than a seasoned elvish warrior like yourself! The entertainment, I've been told, are several dueling and jousting competitions. Would that I could join, but I am here representing the Temple of Ragathiel today. Please, sit, and let us talk of honorable battle and martial weapon play!
He moves his great sword over to afford Thanguron more room to sit, and waves to a server for food and drink.
By the look of you, friend, and the way you move, I would say you have trained hard, and extensively, at your craft. Tell me, where did you train? I have heard of your order, but never have I had the honor of meeting a member.
Vorshek bows his head in respect as he speaks the last part, and holds his hand out to shake.
Really? Did that bozo have to close the bar for the ceremony? I mean, it's not like anyone hasn't seen it before. Dennis thinks to himself as he is ushered out of the pub he had been frequenting. Well at least he was willing to fill my skin from the cask before I went.
and he wanders out towards the ceremonies pouring more ale down his gullet.
Heh. These somber fools. Cayden throws one hell of a better ceremony. These chumps are as stuffy as my parents.
Then he sees Vorshek and it triggers some bad memories. Being somewhat lit already and in a bad mood he decides to confront the obviously unclean being at the ceremony, which he forgets he didn't care much for in the first place.
"What in the nine hells are you doing here creature?"
Dennis is a human of slightly above average height, dressed in scale male, with a shield strapped to his back and a scimitar at his side. He is fairly burly, currently tipsy, and reeks of alcohol. If you get a close look there does seem to be something in his eyes which is rather dark.
Well met Vorshek, I trained in the capital city of Nerosyan. I have yet to see battle, so you can say I'm a bit green. You say you worship Ragathiel, a god I'm not very familiar with! Would you mind telling me more about him or her?
A seven foot tall barbarian, fair and handsome, his midnight dark hair hangs loosely down his back secured by a simple leather throng. His lean body drawing many eyes to his scupted chest, his well muescled arms and his long stride speaks of confidence. His youth is obvious however as this young ulfen already on the verge of manhood towers above his peers.
Battered scale mail that has seen better days with what seems to be a tattoo of something with wings peeking out over broad shoulders. His battle axe strapped to his side.
Seeing a possiblity of a fight about to be started, he moves like the great hunters of his home. Purposeful.
As Vorshek begins to tell Thanguron about the holy vengeance of Ragathiel, a subject he could literally preach for hours about, the drunken warrior interrupts him. For a few seconds, Vorshek is speechless, trying to figure out the best way to diplomatically stop a scene from happening. For a second, he seems sad, but the moment passes and he regains his composure.
My friend, I am no monster, but a paladin in the service of this city, and all who need protection. I can see by your armor and weapons you are a skilled warrior, and quite possibly a worshipper of Cayden, by your commendable ability to hold your liquor. Why don't you sit with us, and enjoy the fights?
He gestures to an empty seat and waves impatiently at the server to bring more food and drink.
"By the gods they let anyone be a paladin these days...
Oh, they're serving booze out here? OK, I'll sit, but I'm gonna keep an eye on you and you're buying. "
Stepping in as the Wind has lead him, the barbarian from the northlands comes forward. With his baritone voice, deep yet not loud.
"Is there room for one more? The whispers of the North wind brought me here."
Well, I don't know if there is alcohol, but the opening ceremonies should be starting soon, and that is certainly something to behold. Tell me, where are you from? I am the son of the late high priest, and one of the events is going to be the coronation of his replacement.
He glances around, looking for the server, and turns back to Thanguron and the drunken fighter.
Well, while we were waiting for refreshments, we were talking about our knowledge and skills in martial combat. Why don't you tell us about your own abilities?
He seems relieved that a fight was avoided, and sits back, relaxed once again. However, when the giant barbarian steps up, he seems flabbergasted yet again. He looks at Thanguron, bewildered, and then speaks.
The north winds you say? I would very much like to hear your story as well, indeed there is room for one more, have a seat!
"What kind of festival can if be if they don't have booze? Bloody heathens. Why is there only one sane god? Good thing I brought my own" he says in a voice which has a trace of slurring as he guzzles down more ale from his skin.
"Oh, what do I do? I hit things with my sword. What does it look like I do? Oh, and I drink. That way I can forget. "
Windsworn looks at Vorshek and with a grave expression thanks him.
"Thank you horned one. I am Windsworn Son of Galan Windborn, forsaken of the Nighthunt clan of the North. THe whispers of the wind has brought me here and I doubt you can hear them."
Taking his seat, Windsworn asks only for water.
"Water? That's for washing. Here have some ale. " he says as he passes over the waterskin of ale.
Windsworn holds up a massive hand to halt teh waterskin's progress.
"I thank you for your offer but Windsworn will have only water."
Tell me, Windsworn, where do you hail from?
"They call it the realm of the Mammoth Lords. How litte they know. It has no given name nor will it accept any. The lands are harsh, ice covers all, the beasts always powerful and the winds blow fiercely but we of the land live with it. Others seek to tame it but we don't. I, Windsworn am forsaken by clan but not by land for it still guides me as the wind blows."
"Hmrph. Even the bloody savage doesn't like ale. Well, more for me. " he mutters under his breath before taking another swig.
Windsworn, you are wise beyond your years. Not many people realize the things you have spoken to be true. I look forward to hearing your stories of your life and battles today, if you are willing to share them.
He then turns to the drunken one and speaks.
My friend, you mentioned drinking to forget something. If it is not prying to ask, what is it you wish to forget so hard? Could it be that maybe Ragathiel can help with what ails you?
"<hic> Look buddy, I don't know about you, but I don't pry into the lives of people I just met. And Cayden is doing a fine job of keeping me going. It's not like anyone here on the border is without a story they would just as soon forget. Demons aren't some kind of kiddie game. I'd say they are worse than you can imagine, but you gotta look into a mirror sometime. "
"Could it be friend Drunk one that you too are a seeker? Though to what you seek I do not pry. I do not drink for this drink, you call ale, makes me not agreeable and easily angry.
In the frozen lands, not thinking straight is an early grave. Here in strange lands. it could get Windsworn killed as well.
For battles, there is nothing to boast about for I'm alive and my enemies are dead. The dead do not compare to the living."
"Seeker? If you mean my next drink sure. If you mean something more, then I don't think so. I fight for a living. About the only good thing about this area is that you can always find a job fighting. "
Vorshek listens gravely to Windsworn, and then speaks to the drunken one.
My apologies friend, it is only that I see a darkness in your eyes. One that I don't believe you deserve to carry. As a paladin, I hate to see suffering. However, your relationship with Cayden seems strong, and I have no doubts that he shall give you whatever you need... For now, let us be merry and enjoy the festival!
Windsworn looks puzzled.
"Windsworn does not see why is there a need for festival. Has there being some victory? Birth of Seer? Pray friend Horned one, tell me what is it they celebrate?"
"Because if they didn't have a festival to brighten up the place every so often the mass suicides would overtake the combat casualties. "
Vorshek's appears sad as he answers Windsworn.
Well, it's a mashup of several different official proceedings, such as revealing the replacement of my late father as head of our temple, and other such elections and decisions, and also a day of celebration of our life here. Hard as it may be, we fight every day, and this day is a reminder to the people that we must still be able to have fun amidst the sorrow and war.
He smiles grimly as he speaks the next part.
It is also a day in which we teach everyone how to fight, and conscript men into the crusade. Like everything in this city, today is indeed a double edged sword. That is why I have pledged my life to destroying the Worldwound, and every demon in it.
"Pledged to destroy the Worldwound and all the demons? Bite off a bit more than you can chew there buddy? I mean I like ambition and all that, but maybe a bit of realism might do you some good. How about you live long enough to retire in one piece while doing some good? That's about as lofty as I get anymore. I mean if you think that's actually possible I gotta say it's not me that should be cut off from the sauce."
I hold no false beliefs that I can do it by myself. I aim to join the next crusade and do my part. This journey was given to me at birth by Ragathiel himself. Who am I to deny it? I believe that as long as I walk the path he asks me to, he will preserve me.
Thanguron cuts in, I feel it our sworn duty as well trained warriors to give hope to the common folk and rid the world of all the evil that plagues our lands.
"OK, I must not be the only drunk one here. Fess up, where's the bottles?"
Windsworn feels the need to weigh in.
"Windsworn feels that we are all brothers in blades.. Looks at his axe and their swords Yes blades indeed. I'll add my axe to your cause and hope that the Wind answers. We are warriors are we not? As warriors we shall fight and let the other foul horned ones tremble at out approach." As Windsworn raises his tankard of water in a toast.
"Right, kill demons. I'm on board. Cheers and all that. "
Vorshek looks genuinely surprised, and then contemplative for a moment. We he speaks, you can hear the joy in his voice.
Well, I must say I did not expect to meet friends here who had the same goals I do, but now I think that this meeting was not by chance but fate? If you wish to go with me into the crusade, then let us take an oath, on our honor and our blades! We shall be brothers in battle, and never shall we fall as long as we stand together!
He raises his flagon of spiced mead in a toast.
"Wait a minute there buddy, I'm here for a toast and a seat. I've already got a job. I get paid to kill demons. Business and pleasure. I still gotta make a living. "
If it is money you want, I am sure there is much to be made by fighting in the Worldwound, and if the fifth crusade really does begin soon as my dreams have told me, then you could become a very rich man, while applying your skills to something more good than any one person could do alone. But it is not my place to tell you to do anything, the choice is yours friend.
"Look, I've got nothing against you fellows. You seem decent enough, but I don't know if you are up on what you are getting into. I know the Rampant Gryphons are an established company, and they will have my back. No offense, but I don't want to test out idealism against demons. That sounds like a way to get on the menu in a hurry. "
That is your own path, friend, but do not make the mistake of thinking you cannot remain here and enjoy the day with us! Please, let us watch the opening ceremonies, and enjoy the duels and jousts together!
A slender elven man, standing just shy of six feet tall, weaves his way through the center of the mass of people gathered to celebrate Armasse, stopping every few seconds to offer something he held to a passerby. His dark brown hair is cut rather short and close to his skull and his skin tone is moderately tanned. His manner of dress is simple, but also seems to imply a hunter of sorts: the long cloak he wears is colored with a seemingly random pattern of mottled browns and greens, doing little to conceal him here in the middle of the city but a pattern that would clearly help conceal him in the forest. His eyes, however, are a clear, crystal blue color, the brightness creating a sharp contrast with the otherwise earthy tones he is otherwise covered in.
Watching him for a few moments, it's clear that he moves with an ease that is atypical even for one of the fair folk, bobbing and weaving amongst the throngs of people with what seems an instinctive grace. Occasionally, an exchange of a small paper-wrapped bundle from a sack carried in his hand with a few coins can be seen.
As he approaches the others gathered together, the elf's voice is heard more clearly and it becomes clear that he is not here explicitly for the purpose of joining the Crusade but is, instead, attempting to earn some coin by selling slices of venison jerky to the reveling crowd.
He catches sight of the others gathered together, and while he starts at seeing the horn-headed man, it doesn't stop him from approaching group of them to offer his vittles. Good afternoon to you, gentlemen! It's a fine opening to Armasse this year, is it not? I've seen this festival come together many times now and I have to say, it's been my experience that all the celebrating tends to leave one with quite a hole in their stomach that needs filling! Perhaps I could offer you a piece of my own specially-seasoned venison jerky? I've been working on the curing process for a long time and I promise you, it's a great deal more satisfying than that tasteless mess you get in a pack of trail rations! Here...I've a sample or two if you'd be interested in giving it a shot before purchasing a full strip." he offers, opening up the sack he carries and pulling a smaller one out.
The smaller sack is filled with small shredded pieces of the dried meat; the sudden opening of the container which has spent most of the day closed releases a faint, savory aroma into the immediate air. "Three coppers for a single strip or half-a-silver for two! You won't find any better venison jerky in all of Kenabres!" he states confidently.
Windsworn tries out a sample. Chewing on it, he finds it pretty good not like the normal fare he's used to.
"Windsworn finds this not bad. It's not as salty as the Rations Windsworn has had to make do with over the last few years. Windsworn thinks cook here should join us too. Windsworn can't make meat like this very well."
Aladir cocks a curious eyebrow at the large bull of a man, amazing at the fact that there is a human present that is a good foot taller than he is. "I, um...I assume your name would be Windsworn, then? Where exactly are you all going?"
Windsworn stops chewing for a moment.
"We be going to the nearest gathering of horned ones and doing battle with them, slaying them all and coming back in glory. Windsworn thinks."
"If you ask me, they are on a one way trip to a funeral pyre, but they might disagree. Good grub by the way. "
The smell of the jerky is enough to make Vorshek salivate. Quick as a blink, his tail darts into his coin purse under his armor and produces two gold pieces, which he presents to the hunter.
That, sir hunter, is the best smelling jerky I have ever had the pleasure if encountering. I'll take two golds worth, please. And to answer your question, these two noble souls have decided to join me in what I hope to be the fifth crusade. My destiny since birth has been to do whatever I can to destroy the evil of the Worldwound, and by Ragathiel's grace, the time has come. I suppose after the festival, the three of us will seek someone who can set us up with the forces waging battle, but for now, we are here to enjoy the party, as our scimitar wielding friend says!
He munches contentedly after he is done speaking, and then smacks Thanguron on the shoulder.
You have to try some of this, it's the best!
Windsworn cocks his head as if listening to something. A voice that no one seems to hear as he nods in affirmation.
"Windsworn is told by the gentle South wind that Windsworn has yet to have proper introductions. The East wind demands that I not call you names that does not belong to you. Windsworn must ask for forgiveness as Windsworn does not know he gives insult."
My apologies! I don't know how that slipped by me! I am Vorshek Firesoul, son of the late high priest of the temple of Ragathiel, and paladin is his service. I grew up in this city, so I have a particular attachment to the crusade, which is bolstered by the dreams Ragathiel has sent me since I was a small child. In them, he has made it clear that I am to join the fifth crusade and help put an end to the evil that has plagued this land for so long. I hope you do not take offense to my forgetting introducing myself, it's just that I have never had a conversation with this many people at once... Most people judge and avoid me because of my appearance, and never take into consideration my actions. Here, I'll buy everyone some jerky to make up for my rudeness!
With that said, his tail darts back into his armor and produces five more gold coins, and presents them to the elf.
Please, good sir, allow me to purchase more for my friends here. Where did you learn to cook like this? The temple never had anything so delicious!
Almost being knock out of his seat by the horned paladin, Thanguron looks to the elf with the jerky. I will take the others compliments as a leap of good faith! I would like to purchase two gold worth of your offerings.. He looks at the other two with smile, Here's to good food and good drink! Bring on the entertainment!
The young man appeared at Kenabres. At first glance he appeared to be an idle, pampered youth. Blessed with good looks and a personal presence that radiated from his very core, he moved through the crowd with one comfortable in the heart of a large city.
A closer inspection of clothes showed a certain sloppiness in how he dressed. A few wine stains on his cloak and pants revealed he was a drinker. The mug hooked to his belt indicated he was prepared to take advantage of any libations, and wouldn't allow the lack of a mug to cause him to miss out.
Something about the well armed man with an obvious passion for drink and a holy warrior drew Beltin to the duo. He noticed that someone with a decidedly demonic taint was also nearby.
Approaching the group, he decided to ask out of curiosity:
"Gentlemen, it is great that accomplished warriors such as yourselves shall be protecting the city from evil. Lacking a formal military training, I unfortunately, will have to help in other ways. To the defenders of this city."
Grabbing his mug, Beltin looks around:
"I seem to lack the liquid for an appropriate toast. Where are the Cayden priests when you need them?"
Turning to greet the man in the stained cloak, Ask this guy over here, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, he wreaks of the ungodly liquid! Pausing for a quick moment he continues. Greetings friend, my name is Thanguron Silverheart. This here is Vorshek. Putting a hand on Vorshek's shoulder. That tall muscular fellow over there is Windsworn, son of Galan Windborn. And that man, Pointing to Aladir, Makes the best tasting jerky this corner of Galarion!
"Ungodly liquid? You just trying to temp Cayden's ire? Come over here sirrah. You're the first one who seems to have any sense around here. " and he fills the mug from his skin of ale.
"Oh, and since we're doing introductions, I'm Dennis. Yes, just Dennis. "