In-Character thread for the 'Fall of Amarath' Campaign. I'll be updating this when I return from work at which point we will be ready to go!

Characters | Players
Garnet | Squinty_Eyes
Kronos | Zinger2099
Valenthal Stalwart | Shockwave07
Jastor Fontaine | Bounty Hunter
Vigo Braelux | Monter-Robot
Alladar | Lazymarine222
Indrick | Mr Windspear
Vanya | Mr Windspear
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Chapter 0 - Prelude to Destruction

The City of Amarath has long been considered untouchable. Behind walls of black stone and ancient magic the city calls out across the world; a siren's song to the shunned and dispossessed whose actions and beliefs would have them branded outcast and heretic. From within his palace at the heart of the city the Lord rules Amarath with a fist and will of iron to ensure the prosperity of his works - fealty is a small price to pay for the safety and freedom he provides. For over eight hundred years Amarath has withstood the assaults and machinations of a world which would see it raised and it's people slaughtered.

But nothing lasts forever. The streets of Amarath swell daily with refugees from the south lands; ashen faced and with eyes and words filled with dread. Whispers of a silver herald to a radiant horde and cities burned from the map in holy fire. Fear is spreading like a sickness across the city and all await with bated breath the spark which will start the fires.

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Location: City of Amarath, The Golden Way, Great Plaza
Time: 12:34pm

Another miserable day in Amarath. The mid-summer heat is stifling and the constant rain, now four days in and showing no sign of abating, has turned the city oppressively humid. However even in this dismal weather the Golden Way is ablaze with activity. The mercantile heart of the city, the Golden Way stretches from each of Amarath's gates, meeting in the center of the city at the Great Plaza. Shops and stalls run the length of the streets and vendors of all kinds compete to hawk their crafts; luxury goods, rare materials, magical components, beasts of all shapes and sizes, fine foods, expensive wines, servants, slaves, pleasures of the flesh and promise of religious salvation. They say anything that can be sold will be available somewhere along the golden way and it's strange and wondrous items brings out even the most unusual of characters.

Jastor Fontaine

Amid the hustle and bustle of the crowded street an armored figure moved with purpose not stopping to check the wares at any stalls nor paying any heed to the cries from various peddlers as they competed for attention of the masses. Those that recognized the armor of the Royal Guard quickly skittered to the side without a word and directed their attention elsewhere, those new to the city or from parts unknown quickly understood and made a path available as quick as they could. There were those in the city that understood the purpose of the guard and had a sort of respect for them while others harbored hatred claiming them to be to brutal or unforgiving. Here on the streets though whether you hated them or respected them, you didn't dare stand in the way of one with somewhere to be.

The clomping of his sabatons echoed in Jastor's mind as he trudged on towards the duty that awaited him, sleep handed came easy to him the night prior and beneath the plates of his armor several fresh bandages covered wounds that had only this morning finally ceased to bleed. With each step, each time the steel of his boot struck the wet cobblestones of the road, vibrations echoed up his suit of armor and rang out amidst the din of the crowd. Though he normally preferred his helmet to be off to provide for a large field of vision today he wore it to shield from the incessant rain that had plagued the city for half a week now. Large raindrops splattered on the dark plates of his armor and droplets ran along their smooth faces racing each other towards the cracks where they'd fall through and seep into the leather padding beneath.

'The start of another beautiful day in Amarath...' He thinks as he walks along The Golden Way scanning for the City Watch who would reportedly meet him here or the paladin adorned in silver who had been such a epicenter of distress it seems.

As of late Valenthal Stalwart had found himself spending more and more time in the market, his second home of sorts. It wasn't that life in his now deceased parent estate had grown dull, it was more of trouble in his place of arcane studies within the city. Dealings with my mage colleagues has grown rather strained as of late. Oh, who am I kidding? It is with one colleague in particular. Never thought I'd take Undercommon studies quite that far with her...

It angered him slightly that even here of all places his mind still dwelled on it, but considering the need to master the magic in his blood being able to have a place to study was vital. Maybe I ought to seek passage back to the Mansion at the Chasm to resume studies there. No, must see to working my inheritance here. Abyssal monstrosities! I am still stressing this!

He gravitated towards the slave pens and illicit substance merchants. Whispering to himself he said, "Maybe I can seek some relaxation here... Oh, what am I saying? I have already stretched my personal budget for this month already," Even with this personal note the pull did not dull. "Though I don't suppose it would hurt to see the current market prices on dusts and skin. Might be able to turn a profit when demand rises..." He adjusted his glamour Mithral armor, currently appearing like the light grey and white summer wear underneathand, and approached keeping an eye out for anyone suspiciously interested in him.

Garnet sits atop one of the higher buildings of the market, in whatever shadows she can find, watching the crowds below. The large axe-handle digs into her shoulder a bit as it rests against the roof she's perched on, the heft of it supported by the building. She watches the comings and goings of the people below, looking for anyone out of the ordinary. New to the city, she needs to find an in.



~SE++

Jastor Fontaine

'Typical. Little better than the rabble itself. No ambition...no PRIDE.' Jastor thinks to himself making his way to the front of the Dragon's Tongue and the three lackeys sitting there in a pathetic attempt to live up to the title of 'watchman'. Coming up along the table the royal guard looks out over the courtyard as the watchmen had pretended to be doing, not even giving them the respect of looking at them when he address the group rather than any of the three in particular. "What have you to report?" Already he was beginning to grow tired of trudging about in the rain and wished for this assignment to come to close quickly but that looked less and less a possibility considering the 'help' he had been burdened with. Still, perhaps the presence of a few more bodies would persuade the silver-adorned fool to cooperate rather than struggling in the name of whatever petty ideals they usually clung to.

Jastor Fontaine

Jastor bides his time as the mess of a sergeant gives his 'report' which is nothing more than a few slurred sentences that any bar fly at the Dragon's Tongue likely could have rambled off had they been asked or offered a few copper. He doesn't even bother to reward the mans attempt at a salute with a gesture in kind. As he listens he turns his attention across the throng to the pair of wagons the watchman had pointed out; emblazoned with the sort of iconography that most fools who fancy themselves a righteous force tend to adorn themselves and their belongings with. His green eyes narrow beneath his helmet as he peers out from the larger of the slits in his plated helmet and studies the scene.

"You can drop the charade now sergeant." Jastor says, before turning finally to face Sergeant Caleb and raising the visor of his helmet to look the man sternly in the eyes. He studies the man for the briefest of moments and then speaks again before the sergeant could respond. "It is an act after all...trying to blend in as just a few off duty guards having a few too many after their shift?" He places his gauntleted left hand upon the table and leans a few inches closer to the inebriated guard before continuing. "Not one of you could actually be fool enough to get drunk off your asses when you knew that you had orders. When you knew that the situation warranted the attention of a member of The Guard. When you knew that one of us was being sent to handle this personally." Each time the guard said the word 'knew' it bore increased stress and inflection and though no anger showed in his voice he hoped to get the point across to the uncoordinated watchmen that they had utterly failed in their duties. "When you have order sergeant you follow them, I don't give a damn how long you have to sit idly by at a inn pretending to be more than just a rack for that uniform. I can promise you this, my time comes bearing a much greater worth than yours, and the first five seconds I had to endure your utter ineptitude I fell more into debt than the lot of you combined." For a split second he considers bowling over the empty tankards that liter the table with the back of his gauntlet but rather than show outright anger he simply turns his attention back to the two wagons. In his right hand he tightens his grip on his large shield and the wet leather creaks and groans.

"Ready?"

"...Blasted rain," the half-elf said shivering despite the sticky heat. He wiped the drop that had splattered on his face and started to walk with more urgency. His mind would just have to remind himself of another worry. He gently slid through the crowd, catching scents of those he passed. Some smelled of incense, others cooking woods. Others smelled of little besides body odor. His eyes glanced for new faces that could be exploited, and eyes turned to see what kind of quality slaves were being sold off into whatever hands would take them.

I need to talk to someone. As interesting as browsing is there are more pressing matters. his mind thought for a second thinking of those skilled in the deducing of arcane effects.

Garnet looks around a bit more, then heads to a quiet section of the alleys, slides her axe down and then shimmys down the wall after it. She makes her way to The Dragon's Tongue Inn and heads inside of it.

~SE++

Vigo Tenebrae and Indrick

The tall blonde Aasimar walks through the market, stopping to look at the trinkets on display, occasionally buying one as directed by the tiefling at his side, standing a clear head above the majority of the market his long golden hair seems to glow slightly as the wind takes it, and his robes, apparently made of fine silk, hang with expensive looking baubles and icons.
The crowd seems to be giving him a wide berth, a small circle opening up as he lazily peruses.
The Tiefling , clad in basic leather armour, carries a ledger under one arm, referring to it regularly,clearly some sort of shopping list, whilst a young human, in similar (though much poorer) robes to the aasimar follows them both diligently, with a wide umbrella to ensure his master does not get caught by the constant rain.

"You know, you'd think they'd be more appreciative, what is it, 4 terrible daemons I've saved this miserable town from already"
"5 sir", the tiefling at his side answered with a sigh.
"Well, if you're going to count that little skirmish at the coach-house certainly, but regardless, all we've had so far is a quick thank you and a hurried exit. If i'd known the amarathians were such a rude lot, I'd have stayed in the northlands, I'll need to have Ix step up his game, speaking of which, isn't it about time he showed up"
The tiefling pulls a small clockwork device from his pocket and examines it, "In about 10 minutes sir, I'd suggest we retire to the wagons to prepare".
"Yes Indrick, we shall"

Turning on his heel he makes his way back through the marketplace, grabbing one of the juicier looking apples on display as he passes.
"The church of Iomedae thanks you trader"
With a bored look he heads back toward the wagons and climbs the ramp to the rear.
"Squires, attend me" can be heard from the covered wagon, followed by the sounds of straps being tightened and armour plates chinking against each other.

After a few minutes, the holy knight steps forth, redolent in shining silver platemail inscribed with the same heraldry as on the wagons somehow this manages to even further reinforce his deific heritage and the armour itself seems to shimmer with an otherworldy light. A huge wide bladed sword with a hooked end traced with arcane symbols is strapped to his back, and he stands, alert, watching the crowd, as if waiting for something.

"Odd..." said Valethal, reguarding the merchants that were less than willing to sell there goods. Some alterior motive perhaps? He made a note to be alert for it if he choose to address them.

Yet the offer of a deal caught his attention, and his mind wandered to the caged gnome. His hands began to quiver a little. So many abyssal thoughts going through my head and the offer a deal still entices me. Even aware of this personal weakness, he still allowed himself to ponder the situation. Not wanting to cause a scene with a cause of public spell casting, though a few of the wiser merchants had already caught onto him having such abilities, he decided to do try and solve it in a more mundane fashion.

Addressing the fat gnome in what was likely his native tongue Valenthal said in a teasing tone, "You know you are a lot less likely to be believed to have riches when you standing in a cage, no matter how decent your girth is,"

Sensing a hint of an untruth the half-elf decides to pry just a little deeper starting with a lie, ("I am familiar with glamours and their uses. And I must admit hiding a chest admist an ambush is quite the feat. And I am sorry to say I am quite unfamiliar with your name. No offense, a lot of us merchants love to believe we are better known than we truly are,") he said glancing around for a possible sign with the gnomes price on it, if that being unavailable calling the nearest slave trader. Not that he was ready to commit to a possible deal quite yet.

Odd that I'd be thinking of talking to a merchant that understood the arcane and this gnome claim to be such.

("While I see what it would take to make this deal legal, don't want to cause a fuss in the city I happen to live in, would you mind telling me of some your work as a traveling merchant? Perhaps some of the items you have sold?") he says hoping to gauge if he really was a merchant to start with.

Keeping a level eye on the one shouting out, Garnet will address the barkeep. "I think I've found what I'm looking for," she says. Flexing her arms, she reaches into a pouch and pulls out a silver coin, palms it and summons the strength of her ally. Shadows form around her and pull her up to a full height of just over eight feet tall, dragging the large greataxe across the floor as her arms raise farther from the ground. Plates of solidifying shadow form around her and muscles bulge under the strain of growth until she and her eidolon are as one. Staring down the orc, she grins and flexes her newly formed muscles.

"You were saying, little man?"



~SE++

Garnet reaches down with her free hand and grabs at the helpless orc.



She raises him up and wraps both arms around him, and squeezes as hard as she can.



~SE++

Vigo's brow furrows as he notices the commotion at the tavern.
"It's always something isn't it..."
Sighing he heads back up the ramp into the covered wagon.



Emerging a few moments later he strides in the direction of the tavern.
"Might as well make the most of it," he mutters under his breath ,"Indrick!"
"Sir?"
"Fetch the bards, apparently we have a daemon to smite."