Inquisitor of the Silver Flame
Class & Level: Cleric(3); Church Inquisitor(3)
|Ability||Mod||HP: 32||Speed: 20|
|Str: 10||+0||AC: 20||Touch: 12|
|Dex: 10||+0||Inish: +0|
|Save||Base||A. Mod||M. Mod||Misc|
|Base Atk: 4||Grapple: 4|
|Armor||Type||AC Bonus||Max Dex||Check||Spell Fail||Speed||Weight||Special Properties|
|Protective Item||AC Bonus||Weight||Special|
|Protective Item||AC Bonus||Weight||Special|
|Protective Item||AC Bonus||Weight||Special|
|Skill Name||Key Ability||S. Mod||A. Mod||Ranks||Race||Misc|
|Extra Turning||Can Turn 4 more times per day|
|True Believer||Gain a +3 bonus on one save each day|
|Domain Spontaneity(Purification)||Spend turn attempt to spontaneously cast a domain spell|
|Spontaneous Domains||Leave your domain spell slots open to be filled at need|
|Detect Evil||At will|
|Immune Charms||Immune to all charm spells and effects|
|Pierce Illusions||Will save to see through any illusion or disguise spell. (need not touch)|
|Level||Spells / Day||Domain|
Part 1: Birth
Seven of Eberron’s moons stand full in Karrnaths night sky shining down on the Ashen Spires. Five of the remaining six stand near to full. This summer night is bright, and visibility is excellent on the plains south of the spires. A wind came roaring out of the mountains and beat against five riders approaching the southern slopes.
Pentar Karavastar raises his right hand, gauntlet shining in the moonlight, and the four other riders halt behind him. A brisk wind out of the north flails their white cloaks revealing five flamic holy symbols. His breastplate has obvious markings identifying him as a high ranking templar in the Church of the Silver Flame. Seven moons, he thinks to himself. That was the order handed down from the flame itself.
“On a summer night with seven full moons a vile ritual will be conducted by Blood of Vol cultists, and it must be stopped at all costs. Make great haste to the Ashen Spires, and avoid notice. On the south central spire you will find a formation that looks like a dragon, and at the base of that formation is a cave, and within there the ritual will be performed. Take a small contingent with you, but move quickly and be prepared for anything.”
Pentar, a tall, lean man with short blond hair, and compassionate blue eyes, pulls a piece of parchment from his belt pouch, unfolds it, and begins to study. The two women behind him, one a short light skinned human with long black hair and brilliant green eyes, and the other slightly taller with dark skin and long brown hair have similar markings as Pentar on their breastplates, but the two men behind them do not wear armor. The bald, dark skinned man wears pristine white robes with silver embroidered flames down the sleeves and around the hem, and the other man, taller than Pentar, has sun darkened skin, brown eyes, and short brown hair. He wears loose fitting pants, and shirt of white linen, with a belt of silver colored rope.
“Drego.” Pentar says looking over his shoulder at the dark man in white robes. “Odilina’s eyes are far better than mine. Can you have her verify we are where we need to be?”
“Of course High Commander. Let me see the parchment so I can tell her what to look for.” Drego says as he rides up next to Pentar. The hilltop they stand on is covered in grass rolling in waves from the wind as far as the eye can see, and looks down upon a cave entrance about one thousand feet away. The light of all the moons makes visibility excellent, and gives an eerie surrealism to the whole scene.
A brown spotted owl comes streaking through the moonlight sky to land on Drego’s outstretched arm as he pulls up. Pentar hands over the parchment, a very detailed drawing of the cave entrance they are supposed to enter. “I didn’t know the Keeper was such a good artist.” Drego says while examining the parchment. He then looks up, and whistles, and the owl, Odilina, takes off to sweep by the cave for a closer examination. She returns shortly landing again on Dregos arm. “She confirms this to be the place, all the way down to the corpse just outside.” Drego says pointing to the picture. “Just as its drawn.”
“Very good.” Pentar replies. “Praise be to The Silver Flame for bringing us safe passage through the war torn lands of a light forsaken kingdom.”
“The Flame burns brightly.” the rest reply.
“Praise be to The Silver Flame for with its aid vileness will be destroyed this day.” Pentar intones.
“The Flame burns brightly.” the rest reply.
“Praise be to The Silver Flame to see us safely out again.” Pentar intones.
“What The Silver Flame wills will be.” the rest reply.
Pentar raises his right hand and then points towards the cave, and the five templar ride down the hill steeling their minds for the approaching encounter. When they ride within one hundred feet of the entrance Pentar raises his right hand to call a halt. “Dismount. We’ll move on from here on foot.” Pentar commands, and the five dismount, dropping their reins. The horses, being very well trained, know this to be a command to stay.
Pentar turns to the short, green eyed woman and says “Lycia, would you perform the necessary blessings?” The young woman nods, and takes hold of the flamic symbol around her neck.
“Praise be to The Silver Flame.” She intones, holding her symbol high above her head. “Bring us your blessings, your strength, and your will. Let us be agile as a cat, and endure like the bear. By your will will this vileness here tonight be destroyed. Bring us the power to see it through.”
Engulfed in divine light she steps up and touches everyone on the forehead spreading the light equally among the five. Now standing in the middle of the group she, again, raises her holy symbol high above her head.
The rest of the group raise their holy symbols and direct them at Lycia’s. The divine energy swells to a climax forming a circle between all five of the templars. In unison they all cry out “What The Silver Flame wills will be!” At that the divine energy pops and the visible aura dissipates, drifting away like snowflakes.
“Draci,” Pentar says turning to the dark skinned young woman. “You’ll be entering alongside me. Drego, and Lycia will follow behind, and Zoder” he says, turning to the tall, sun darkened man in white linen. “You watch our backs, and make sure Lycia and Drego can do their thing. We have no idea whats in there and without them we may very well fail.”
“Of course Sir Karavastar” the tall man replies in a deep resonant voice. “I will perform my duties to the fullest.” With that they all salute and form up, and at that very instant the sound of a womans scream comes echoing out of the cave entrance.
“Lets move!” Pentar cries and the contingent of templars charge into the cave drawing their weapons as they run. The blessings have been lain, and the granted power is exhilarating. He thinks to himself. Let the Blood of Vol feel the mighty wrath of The Silver Flame!
A pregnant woman lays naked, covered in blood, and giving birth on a stone altar within a large cavern. Her screams echo off the cavern walls, and made all the more eerie by the flickering candles giving off dim illumination, and laying long shadows dancing across the blood and gore covered walls.
Twelve cultists, dressed in red embroidered black robes with the hoods pulled up, encircle the alter and chant in low, droning tones, while a tall man with long, greasy black hair and long flowing robes the color of fresh blood stands in the middle of the circle, next to the alter, holding a large sacrificial dagger, and stares hungrily at the pregnant woman.
“Long have we waited for this day!” The man in red proclaims. “For generations we have worked to bring forth this child. Come, little one, and fulfill your destiny.” Immediately the woman screams, deep and guttural. She makes one last heave and the child emerges. The man in red picks the infant up by his legs in one hand, and holds him up in the flickering light. The infant takes a deep breath, and begins to wail not knowing that in just mere moments his life, so new, will be riped away and splayed out on an altar for some truly vile purpose.
The man in red holds the child aloft in one hand and the dagger ready in the other, and he proclaims “The day has come! The bloodline is pure! Goddess, take this sacrifice and…”
A bar of liquid white light shoots through the cavern and touches the man in red. A look of shock was all he had time for. His body quickly flashes a fiery red, and then is dust floating gently to the ground. The dagger and the child fall. The child, at least, is stopped by some unseen force, and slowly floats towards the cavern’s entrance. At the clang of the dagger hitting the ground the cultists begin to chant much more quickly.
As Pentar and Draci enter the room the mother crawls off of the altar and over to the sacrificial dagger. Without hesitation the two paladins charge towards her. They reach her as she drives the dagger into her throat spewing her blood all over the center of the room, and collapsing into a heap. They look at each other, shocked.
Dozens of bolts of energy fly from Drego’s hands and into the cultists. They wobble a little on their feet, but don’t break the chant. “Persistent buggers aren’t they?” he asks turning to Zoder. The tall man nods. “How about something a little warmer?” he asks with a sly grin. Zoder smiles. Rays of fire shoot from Drego’s out streched fingertips burning holes through the chests of three of the cultists. The circle reforms and they keep on chanting.
Lycia calls out holding a book open in one hand “What you do here is foul beyond belief! You bring darkness and decay to the world worshiping as you do! The light of The Silver Flame brings enlightenment, and purity, and what you perform here is an abomination. Feel the justice of The Silver Flame! It will purify you!” She claps the book shut and all the remaining cultists shudder. The rest of the templars, on the other hand, stand straight with their heads held high, proud of who they are and what they were doing.
Pentar and Draci, inspired by Lycia’s words, turn and face the rest of the cultists with swords at the ready. The cultists chanting grows louder and faster, and the womans corpse rises from the ground, convulsing, slinging her remaining blood on the two templar. A darkness grows inside the room, and the womans body rips apart. Hovering where her body once was is a tall man clothed in a black silk robe, and trousers. Silky black hair falls past his shoulders, framing a face pale as an eggshell with high cheekbones, and solid black eyes. With his sinister smile, bearing fangs three inches long, the cultists chant abruptly stops.
Flinging his hands towards Pentar and Draci, he roars. The two paladins, hurled across the cavern by an unseen force, slam against the wall with the loud clang of metal on stone. They do not fall. “It is good you let the child live.” The vampire says, smile fading from his lips. “You have hindered our plans, but have not foiled them. The child is too old now for our purposes, but he will help produce the Sacrifice.”
The vampire beginnings to stride forward, that sinister smile returning to his lips. The jet black pupils that seem to have swallowed his iris’s begin to soak up more and more of the light with each of his steps. A streak of white bolts towards the vampire, and the flurry of blows that Zoder lays upon him seem to come all at once. The vampire rockets backwards into the cave wall behind him, plowing through the circle of cultists in the process. A woosh followed by a thunder clap fills the room as the vampire is in flight, and his crash into the wall drowns out Pentar and Draci’s fall to the ground. The light turns to its original dim flickering.
Zoder stands at the ready up on his toes. The child’s screams, echoing off of the cavern walls, are the only sounds heard. Lycia and Drego begin to approach, her holy symbol in her left hand glowing a bright white, and his hands engulfed in white flame as Pentar and Draci begin to pick themselves up off the ground. They all freeze, shocked, as a black blur whips towards Zoder. The last thing they see before all of the candles are snuffed out at once is the vampire wrapped around Zoder like a constrictor, fangs already digging into his neck.
The childs wails persist. The only light emanates from Lycia and Drego. Two more lights quickly appear at the ends of Pentar, and Draci’s swords. Drego begins to murmur, and all four raise their holy symbols high above their heads. “In the name of The Silver Flame,” Drego roars “I reveal you!” And the cavern flashes to light like the sun at noon.
Hissing, the vampire drops Zoders limp, pale form to the ground, and retreats to the hole he left crashing into the wall, dragging along with him two of the cultists. Angry muttering and the sound of bodies being ripped apart leave the hole, but nothing else.
Lycia darts up to kneel next to Zoders body, pressing her holy symbol against his chest above his heart, and begins to pray, tears running down her cheeks. Cowed, the rest of the cultists lay prostrate awaiting death. Calmly Pentar and Draci walk up and swiftly take the head of each of the remaining cultists, mumbling a soft prayer each time.
After inspecting the hole, and finding only blood soaked walls, and the remnants of the two cultists that were ripped apart Pentar and Draci sheath their swords and approach Lycia, who is still kneeling and praying over Zoders form. “This was bigger than I expected. Much bigger.” Pentar says, taking in the the events that just occurred. “To think they were prepaired to summon a vampire as strong as that one, one that can blood warp, while already having a vampire performing the ritual, albeit a much weaker one. To think that was built into the ritual shakes me to the bones.”
Looking down at Lycia and Zoder Pentar frowns. “If that salvation spell hasn’t worked yet, Lycia, its not going to. Steak his heart, and cut off his head. Drego can cremate the body. We will send Zoder to join The Flame before its too late.”
Coughing, Zoder stirs, opening his eyes straight at Pentar. “Don’t be so hasty old friend. I may be weak, but I’m not lost yet.” he weakly says, a faint smile crossing his lips. “The child, it stopped crying.” He looks up at Lycia, her tears of woe now tears of joy. “Thank you, dear Lycia. You are the finest worker of the healing arts to ever grace the face of Eberron.
“What are we to do with him?” Drego asks pointing at the child sleeping gently on a coushion of nothing. “What do you think he ment when he said this child would help produce the Sacrifice?”
“I do not know.” Pentar replies. “For now let us bring him back to Flamekeep. We will let the High Cardinal, or the Keeper decide what must be done with the child.” Pentar picks up Zoder and throws him over his shoulder. “I will carry you to your horse, old friend, and I’ll strap you to the saddle if I have to. I won’t leave you to be lost.”
“Thank you, old friend.” Zoder replies. “May The Silver Flame bless you, and forgive me.” A look of horror comes over Pentar’s face as Zoder whips around and sinks long fangs into his neck. Pentar’s holy symbol flashes white, and then so does Pentar and Zoder. All that remains of Pentar Karavastar is his holy symbol, which drops onto the chest of the rescued infant boy, and fitting neatly around his neck. When this happens a huge, white Dragonmark appears centered on the infant.
Drego gasps. “This must be copied, and studied. I can’t read much from it, but what I can tell is dire. It seems that the fate of Eberron itself may rest partly on his shoulders. We must protect this child at all costs, and quickly spirit him back to Flamekeep. The keeper must know of this.”
“Agreed.” Draci and Lycia reply together. After a little while for Drego to copy the Dragonmark, the three leave with the child.
“What are we to call him?” Lycia asks “We can’t just keep calling him boy, or the child.”
“What about Alestair after legendary Templar who killed Lim Karthu, the vampire king?” Drago suggests.
“Yes.” Draci says. “But he should take Pentar’s sir name in honor and memory.”
“Yes.” Lycia agrees. “Alestair Karavastar. A strong name. A name worthy of The Silver Flame.”
The journey back to Flamekeep will still be long, and wraught with obstacles, but it is just the beginning for the one who will be known as Sir Alestair Karavastar, Inquisitor of the Silver Flame. Savior of Eberron?