My name is Valeria Pandarian, and I am a warrior sworn to the service of the Goddess Melora.
‘Twas not always so – once I was just the only daughter of “Lord” Robert Pandarian. When I say “Lord” what I really mean is a vicious and contemptible robber baron. Don’t get me wrong, he was (and I presume still is) a kind, gentle and loving man towards his family and friends. Unfortunately it didn’t change the fact he was also a highwayman.
As I grew I lacked for nothing. I had fine clothes aplenty, and jewellery, furs worthy of a true noble, tutors in all things scholarly and military and my own maid. All paid for by the blood of those in the wrong place at the wrong time, though I cared little about that at the time (may all the Gods pardon my miserable soul). One of my tutors who taught me my three Rs also gave me a broad education on religion. His name was Jerric and he was a priest of Melora.
Despite what my father later claimed he thoroughly discouraged me from the worship of any single god, teaching that all the Gods should be feared and respected equally. So it was not his fault that when he spoke of Melora I heard Her voice through his lips. When I studied scrolls about her and her worship, I saw Her face looking back at me from behind the curving script, her eyes staring deeply into my eyes and down into my heart. I knew almost immediately from then that my soul was Hers, and when I turned eighteen I revealed my faith to my father and asked his blessing to study Her mysteries.
He was enraged that his eldest child should want any more from life than following in his footsteps, ordered me to my rooms and quite literally hurled Jerric from the keep. Guided more by instinct that any pre-laid plans I gathered some travelling clothes, my father’s sword, and some provisions and hurried after Jerric. We discussed my future that night and agreed that I had not the patience for scholarly study and no talent for magic that the path of the cleric was not for me, but my use of the sword and desire to do Melora’s work in the world would be of use. Thus he took me to a chapel and I soon found myself making my vows ready to begin my training as a Paladin for my beloved Goddess. A year and a day later I left under his guidance to begin my work in the world. We undertook many quests aiding those too poor to pay or to weak to fight for themselves, and stood side by side through many dangers. Through it all we became so very close, though we never were lovers. We were too close for that, and I knew my tastes lay elsewhere.
Eventually we found ourselves leaving Fallcrest on the road to a wretched little hole by the name of Winterhaven. I can no longer even think that name without a shiver of disgust running down my spine.
I found it to be a squalid little pit that made no effort to render its environs safe for travellers (though its Lord claimed he had not enough people to do the job). We were waylaid several times on the road by goblins and kobolds. We fought the first to attacks off with little difficulty, though we were wearied by the fighting. The third ambush caught us unaware, and I only just managed to kill the last kobold before succumbing to unconsciousness. Jerric had fallen himself, but I could do nothing for him before the great black claimed me.
Dawn’s glaring light woke me, and murmuring my morning prayers to Melora I felt the pain of my wounds evaporate with the morning dew. I took stock of my surroundings, and saw Jerric lying where he had fallen the night before. I needed only one look to know that he had passed. We were poor, and aside from some few religious artefacts we had no material wealth to trade for a resurrection even if he had wished for such a thing. I dug him a simple grave, garnished it with some fresh leaves arranged in my personal sigil and muttered some broken prayers and some appropriate words before continuing in my journey to Winterhaven.
I had but one thought – to train a militia there to keep the roads clear so such tragedies would be less likely to happen. Gossip in the village diverted my attention.
Necrotic powers being unleashed from a portal under Winterhaven keep threatened the rest of the dead, and the thought of Jerric being subjected to such a crime sickened me to the soul. Apparently only one small party of volunteers of dubious repute had set off a few days before and no word had been heard of them since. They could all have been dead by then, and were they not it was unlikely they were equal to the task. I decided to go forth into the keep and aid them, not least as I felt it was my duty but also for Jerric’s sake.
May the Gods, and especially Melora aid me in my quest.
So, winterhaven turned out to be less than even I expected of it. No sooner had I arrived and ordered refreshments at what passes for the local tavern than yells of the fearful reached my ears.
Hefting my father's sword and my shield I rushed for the gates, seeing the gate guards in full
retreat with skeletons visible without. I rallied them with swift and well chosen words, and they fell in behind me as I engaged the foe, the prayers of Mellora on my lips and her blessings guiding my arm.
Knowing I must soon be overwhelmed I yelled at the guards to close the gates. Praying for a miracle, one answered me. Two arrows streaked passed my face, dispatching a pair of skeletons. Help had arrived at last! An elf which I had noticed briefly at the tavern had come out to see what was going on, and had lent his skill with a bow to my efforts. His race's familiarity of that weapon showed itself well, and we held as the gates closed. I darted back through at the last possible minute and the village was safe. For now.
More guards were turning out, and I handed over duty to them as I went to enjoy the drink I had ordered before being so rudely interrupted.
The elf's name turned out to be Lenwë, a member of a rough sounding crew by the name of the Red Order. They were currently undertaking the looting of an old keep nearby, ostensibly in the name of cleansing it of a great evil. Hearing of its source, I inwardly swore to assist them as soon as the situation in the village had been taken care of.
Despite my repeated insistances, Paidren the mayor refused to move against the enemy, which had fallen back on the graveyard. He claimed not to have the forces to undertake the mission, though in my opinion this could be achieved had the adults in the village achieved some minimum martial training. In the end the town's wizard provided the solution, having through the use of magic summoned the Red Order back from it's business. After they attended to certain priorities (they involved alchohol and dividing their Ill Gotten gains) they condescendingly offered to 'Allow' me to accompany them (as if I could do anything else anyway) and offered me the use of some wonderful armour and a holy sword of Bahamut. Under the understanding I pay for them in full later on of course.
We advanced confidently, myself and Ander, a halfling fighter led the way. The graveyard's tall iron fences were still intact but the gates loomed open. We spread out as we entered, Adrik and Ander went right, Shibboleth and I went straight on, but I bore left to investigate one of the crypts for sings of tampering. Immediately as I reached the door, it burst open and a cowled figure yelled out:
"Your meddling ends here!" she shrieked . "The chosen of Orcus will walk free again and the world will burn before them!"
She tried to mutter some foul curse at me too, but I interrupted her with Aecris, wounding her deeply. behind me I heard many skeletons rise up and rush towards my allies. two arrived behind me to block me into the crypt, scratching ineffectually at my armour. She recovered all too quickly and cast a spell which robbed me of my sight, and slipped passed me before I could react. Blindly I lashed out at her minions behind me and was rewarded by the sound of one cracking beneath Aecris. I battled the other, praying to Mellora to restore my sight. By the time she saw fit to do so I had dispatched another skeleton, but the cowled figure had disapeared. I saw her cowl on the ground and heared her voice from around the corner:
"This isn't over. You have won nothing here today. Soon Kalarel will open the portal and then nothing will be able to stop us!"
Lenwë retorted with his bow, but his elven eyes failed him and his shots went wild. we despatched the remaining skeletons before pursuing her into the woods. We tracked this female, who had apparently been posing as a florist in Winterhaven, to the very gates of the Keep before we caught up with her, and Lenwë, apparently eager to make up for his poor shooting earlier dispatched her with an arrow to the head at the very stairs down which she could've escaped. Having saved the village from its troubles, we decided to descend and cleanse the keep of the greater evil of this Kalarel.
I do not fear, Ander and Lenwë have proven capable fighters, and Shibboleth at least appears to be fighting for something more than selfish reasons. His prayers to Bahamet show a growing force for good to those who know how to look. As yet I am undecided on the two wizards. They seem to be more full of talk than action,and neither performed particularly effectively at the graveyard, more intent on bickering about whether Adrik was a demon worshipper or not than killing the enemy. It is far too early to judge either way and I'm sure whatever their capabilities I can employ them effectively during my quest to kill this Kalarel.