Luthantulas Malmara'Amamai the Champion of the Virtues

Role

Chapter 16

I grow tired of the illogical discussion of spark and redemption from
the Prophet and Cardinal, can they not see that Therans will be who they
will be. Preaching redemption and offering empty faith is foolish.
Perhaps I should take a seat of Leadership among the Marans and begin
recruiting those that are of my faith. As a leader others would be more
strongly influenced to follow directions of faith. Besides the ideals of
the Maran are from a god long since dead. I hold no favor with the Lady
Jaguar however and that may be a nail in the coffin.

I cannot help but smile and sulk at the same time. My reputation
affords me rarely the chance to engage in single combat. Numbers come at
more often than individuals. I must give credit to the last two of a
dying age Aaoltha and Varaez they are more than willing to face me.
Varaez, though he be drow and risen to be a great combatant. Where once
he was sullen at the idea, he now looks to fight me with vigor. Thanks be
to Akresius for his wisdom and teachings.

Looking down at his finished work, he smiles at the memory of facing the
Imperial Warmaster on the Warmasters terms, and defeating him none
the less. This drawing depicts the immolated warmaster silently screaming
in pain as his last breath is consumed by fire.

Role

Chapter 5

You going to lie there all night? asked a voice in the moonlit night.

Suddenly I became aware of the cold water soaked earth I was laying on.
A sharp pain in my chest caused me to open my eyes. In the umbra of the
night I could see the fletching of two arrows sticking out of chest.
They look to be fatal hits.

Before I could ponder the notion I hear motion in the direction of my
feet, and a voice, more annoyed than before, saying, Get up, and stop
wasting time.

I place my hands down on the soggy ground, and sit myself up. I winced
as I could feel the arrow heads protruding from my back, damn Drows and
their Iron. I gathered myself up to take the pain as I stood.

It was then, as I stood and got my bearings, that I saw Lord Akresius
standing before me. Your blood flows to the Chalice, he told me. He
pointed to the ground for me to look, and when I turned to look I saw
that the soggy ground was not from water, but from the blood that spilled
from my body.

Have I perished in battle? as I asked candidly.

You have, he replied matter of factly, but you will rise again as one
of my holy soldiers. Your fortitude and spirit have earned a VERY small
amount of respect from me.

With god like speed he shoved the arrows through my chest, and then
pulled them from my back. It as an astonishing pain, but as quickly as
it came it was gone. I looked down and saw no more wounds, no more blood,
and in its place was the tabard of the sanguine chalice.

You will learn the tenants of the sanguine chalice, he told me. In
time, I expect you to be a master of them. Your road will be hard, it
will be arduous, and it will not always be victorious. Seek out my
Avatar, Marintok, for knowledge. Above all things you will place me;
above your aid to the Fortress, and even above your very guild.

His last words were clearly a warning. I slowly nodded my understanding
of what he told me. It had not have been enough of a confirmation,
because he lunged at me with his god like speed and plunged his hand into
my chest and firmly grasped my beating heart.

Are we clear on this!? Akresius challenged as he induced horrific pain
upon my chest as he began crushing my heart to his hand.

Yes, my Lord Arkesius! I cried out as I bolted upright from my bedroll,
my hand firmly against my heart. My oath was made. The pain from the
dream faded

Role

Chapter 6

It was a deep blow to his soul as he stood before Akresius in judgement.
Lord Akresiuss condemnation of Luthantulas could not be disputed. He
was wearing the many marks of maran, and in so the symbol of another god,
Shokai. He had in the eyes of Akresius put both the Fortress and Shokai
before him, a disrespectful and short-sighted act that he would not
tolerate. Lord Akresius proclaimed him in atonement for an unspecified
time in which time he would pay an unknown penance for his short-sighted
deeds.

From that moment Luthantulas removed from him all signs of gods known to
him and more diligently mades sure to let it be known that he is a holy
soldier of Akresius, first and foremost. Through age and time in
atonement his distance from the Fortress and the Paladin guild has more
focused his mind. He embraces the combat for himself and for the beauty
and pleasure of it. He sees himself as one who searches for combat
inside his personal moral code, oaths of honor and his promise to combat
evil. It is secondary and almost uncalculated the benefit it gives to
the fortress and the world.

As the benefits to the fortress go, he has noted that the Captain
position of the Fortress has been a vacant title for a while. It is with
a grumble in his mind that he may receive it. Being relegated to desks
and doling out discipline and overseeing training sound like a prison
sentence compared to being out in the fields engaged in combat. Although
he may be qualified for it, he sees no benefit to carrying a leader
weapon. It would only weigh him down, and keep him away from combat.

Role

Chapter 7

As Luthantulas continues to trudge the lands in atonement he comes to
grips with his limits in combat. Although he is decisive in combat,
being able to finish all of his enemies and put blood in the chalice has
shown to me much more difficult to complete. He has expected this
challenge when going up against such renown foes, but did not understand
the full spectrum of its ramification. He must decide now how to get his
foes to overcommit at the possibility, if false, of the possibility of
victory.

He has found that when combat is simply not attainable he uses art to
visualize the combat and relive the combats of the past. Although they
were initially just for him, he decided that perhaps others would be
inspired in the beauty of combat and may seek out Lord Akresius.

Role

Chapter 8

A charcoal sketch that looks to take place in the heart of the Silver
Woods, light filters down through the trees reflecting against the dust
in the air. The sketched rays of light illuminate things around the
meadow. Off to the left is the battered corpse of cheetah, fallen to
massive bone fractures and some open wounds. Wisps of smoke rise off
burnt skin. Behind the corpse in the shadow of the light a young storm
giant takes a knee resting his weight on a massive polearm. The main
focus of the sketch is an elf grappling with a shapeshifter. The
shapeshifter pinned on its back by the elf is in mid-shift between an
eagle and a wolverine. Mouth agape, it is unleashing its furor upon the
elf, flailing claw and talon. The elfs knees are pressed deep into the
lower extremities of the shifter, pinning it. The elfs torso is upright
showing corded muscles flexing on his upper body. Streaks of motion blur
the arms, making it appear as if the elf has several arms attacking the
body and head of the shifter a crushing defeat.

The final ray of light in the lower right corner illuminates a Sanguine
Chalice, with a note Rage does not win Combat.

Role

Chapter 9

A painting of exception details hangs here. It is an interesting
technique in which the center of the painting is very detailed and the
further out from the center it goes the more blurred the painting is. A
blurry temple in the background is shadowed by a dark clouded boarder.
At the foot of the shadowed temple a road adjoins to the gate. The
gargoyle and the elf are clearly painted in the center. As the left fist
of the armored elf is disintegrating the head of the gargoyle his right
fist is backhanding the face of a half-elf in priests robes. A ghostly
vaporous wight is pointing at the elf, uttering a wicked spell. A gaggle
of undead are blurred out behind the wight. Off to the other side is the
silhouette of a duergar dual wielding axes sprinting away from the fight.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note,
Misplaced faith in numbers.

Role

Chapter 10

A painting of exceptional detail is here sitting on an easel. A fight
between an elf and orc takes place on open plains, you surmise the blue
mountains in the background hide the elven city of Darsylon. Clear open
skies brighten the paintings back ground and help to highlight the
darker colors of the orc and elf. On the plain surrounding the pair are
weapons, a battle axe imbedded in the soil on the left side of the
painting, a flail pinned under the foot of the orc, and a jagged sword is
falling away from the right hand of the orc. All over the plains are
oily black bladders, devoid of their contents. The center piece of the
painting an orc backpedaling. Its covered in armor desecrated with the
blood and organs of his kills. His tusked mouth froths in his berserker
rage, while his beaded yellow eyes are a mixture of frenzy and panic,
like a cornered rabid beast trying to escape. The elf adorned in plated
armor, is in mid leap, his dwarven robe is spread open as the wind
catches it. One hand firmly grasp the orcs large tusks while the other
one is about to drive a thunderous blow into the throat of the orc. Its
possibly a fatal blow, should it land.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note, Not
enough blood skins.

Role

Chapter 11

A vivid painting using mostly shades of yellow, orange, red, and black.
Along the edges of the canvas is the clouded boarder of dark great black
giving your eyes focus to the middle. A brilliant crimson and orange
sunset provides a backlight to the Imperial palace. The Imperial
Palaces golden embellishments and gaudy impressions are but blackened
silhouettes. Before the open gates of the palace is the silhouette of
the Vanquisher, unmoving at the sight before him. Illuminated in the
golden and crimson sunset stands a bloodied elf with his weight shifted
to his left leg, shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion, and a deep gash
oozing blood down his right leg. His fists still clenched, combat just
finished. Lying before him is a drow, face down on the stone streets of
the imperials road. The drows crown lay a few feet away from him, turn
upside down symbolically, the end of a reign of terror. You also note
that the emperor was wearing those strange bracers coveted by so many.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note,
Emperors are not immortal.

Role

Chapter 12

Rolling green hills on the left and deep forests on the right boarder a
detailed picture of the eastern road. A duergar, a half-drow, and orc
and an elf stand on the muddied and broken down cobblestones of the
eastern road. The duergar, half-drow and Orc are surrounding the elf in
a semicircle. The duergar clad in heavy and blackened imperial armor, but
with the imperial symbol rubbed off, is turning away from the fight with
a frightened and panicked look on his face. On the cobblestones of the
eastern road are a couple oily black wineskins, quite deflated and void
of their contents. The Orc is blindly in his rage; his frothing mouth
spills from his lips as he swings his iron wrought weapons. The
half-drow in light imperial armor, also with the imperial symbol rubbed
off, is in theatrical pose and has a very frustrated look upon his face.
The elf, compared to the others, appears calm and is prepared to fight.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note,
Misplaced faith in numbers II.

Role

Chapter 13

Every inch of this canvas is covered in an abundance of detail. A
village stands up on the hills, many huts of simple design, and a couple
longs houses. Further down the hill is a wooden palisade formed in a
circle, an arena of some sort. Down the path from the village at a crack
in a ruin city wall a massive giant faces is swinging giant fists at a
small Svirfnebli that a shield of magic absorbs. Luminous bolts of
elemental magic strike out from the hammer and palm of the robed
svirfnebli, striking deep and hard through the giant. On the other side
of the crack in the wall a half-drow in imperial priestess robes glares
In menace and deep hatred at an elf with short hair clad in diamond armor
and platinum armor. The elfs is clearing looking at the shaman as he is
rising from his last strike, a strike that was the finishing blow that
shattered his fist through the skull of the froth-mouth orc chief. The
blackish orc blood is pooled up below the corpse. Off the wall is a
bearded dwarf leaping at the svirfnebli invoker with two maces preparing
for a most powerful downward strike to their head.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note,
Situations can give advantage.

Role

Chapter 14

A charcoal sketch of a battle drawn on thick parchment pinned to a board.
At the edge of civilization and rugged wilderness a path is leading
around a huge wall of iron spears, and beyond that wall a grand palace
where banners wave in an unseen wind. Below the wall of the great city
of Hamsah MuTazz a duergar wears freshly polished heavy black imperial
armor, that of a warmaster. Though he wields two swords, the duergar is
fleeing around the wall in the direction Empire. His skin and beard
smolders from wrath wrought by an elf paladin. That paladin who has his
attention turned on a half-drow in pristinely new and proper imperial
high priest robes. Those robes, though new are blooded and dirtied as
the paladin has battered the priest to death along grassy shore of the
white choppy river that runs through the city.

In the lower right corner is a Sanguine Chalice, with a small note,
Anathema now Imperial turned corpse.

Role

Chapter 15

As Luthantulas sits before the Golden Chalice sketching in charcoal he is
deep in thought, wandering back and forth between what his future holds.

This body, though not so fragile, has taken a toll of abuse from his
combative youth. Oh, to be able to give the knowledge I have now to my
younger self. Alas its not to be and he must find a way to strengthen
myself so that I can continue his engaging in the truest and most
beautiful combats. The failed experimental potion from that drow
laboratory of Kteng left me with one less option. It doesnt appear that
the experiment is repeatable and I am hesitant to waste my remaining
fortitude on another possible trip to face four lesser bone demons.

If by chance I can find a way to rise beyond this mortal body.
Perhaps through Davarrah I can reach immortality? Davarrah, a vampire,
has been seeking a torch of shadow from the Lyceum. If Daphadee, that
sweet mage, can ever get in contact with the vampire I could perhaps work
some kind of way to cross over into a stronger self, and then search for
greater immortality. I will have to weigh long term effects.

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 4

Years in training and a focus on combat has established Luthantulas as a
known combatant who is not afraid of combat, as one who fight on his
terms, and who shrewdly gauges his opponents. Most who meet him know
that he receives his divine inspiration from Lord Akresius. What most
dont know is how much he idolizes Akresius and how he looks to him for
the wisdom to find the purest form of combat.

One thing that required serious contemplation was the tenant of the
Sanguine Chalice that states followers transcend the quarrels of the
virtuously good and purely evil. To him he believes that though his
enemies are inherently evil , combat in itself was about the challenge of
oneself, the risk of failure or death, and beauty of a well-earned
victory. There is much more to learn and understand though.

Role

Chapter 3

The Paladins explained that the foresight I had was a divine revelation
and had aided me in combat. If I wished, they would teach me how to
harness the divine gifts that were but a prayer and a focused mind away.
If I wished? I was already in the Paladins guild because I knew it
was where I supposed to be.

Over his time as a paladin he has been a sword for hire for many people.
He has always gauged the worth and value of his aid to others checking it
against his own personal code of honor values. He has taken it upon
himself to aid the Fortress in their battles against reavers, and
Imperials and all those who would combat them. It is a morally righteous
fight and it affords him the opportunity to combat challenging opponents
and find the purest form combat.

It is his hopes that he can help lead people of good morals by; being an
example of someone who cares about others and the state things being an
elf of character and principle, being competent in both battle and
religion, by being consistent in all who approach him, and showing his
commitment to the Fortress and combating evils in the world.

Role

Chapter 2

I cried out as I clutched my chest and bolted up from my sleep. Light
sweat beaded on my forehead as I panted trying to catch my breath. They
were memories of bygone battles still replaying in my dreams as if they
were being lived again. I swear I could smell the drow blood that time.

For years I was a part of Darsylon's military. There were many unnamed
campaigns, and battles fought. I was separated from that life for 20
years. More days than not, I had the shakes. My hands would spasm
slightly. Healers explained that my spirit was damaged from years of
combat. A quiet life was the cure they said, a peaceful existence. I
attempted it, peace, for some 20 years. The shakes continued unabated.

It was that she blended to well into the crowd that first caught my eye.
Then how she melded and formed to the shadows as I followed her through
the crowd. How had it begun? Oh yes, the glint of metal in the light as
a dagger was unsheathed. I will never know her intended target because
she never made it more than two more steps that night. With the drow
subdued into unconsciousness I reflected back on what had happened.
Mentally my mind entered a void. There was only my enemy and myself and
battle was going to happen. I assaulted her with fists and strikes of
lightning fury. Like a lucid dream, I had foreseen her attacks and was
able to act long before she could even think to finish her action. My
recollection ended with me staring down at my hands, not a quiver or a
shake.

What the Healers did not, and perhaps could not understand, was that
combat is where I am at peace. It is as much a part of me as the blood
the pumps through me, and the air the pulls through my lungs. Combat is
a part of who I am.

Role

Chapter 1

"Reinforcements to the right flanks," cried the battlefield commander!

He could barely be heard over the roar of the battle. A quick glance to
our right showed a platoon of drow rushing the formation from an unseen
source, probably a hidden tunnel dug out from underdark. There was a
seamless shift of warriors and spearman across the phalanx as the right
side was bolstered to intercept. Things were going as smoothly as
possible considering our fog of war. Scouts reported the massing of drow
forces along the tree line southwest of Darsylon just before dusk. They
hoped to take advantage of the cloak of night. Vigilance is key to
security. We were on the march a few hours after dark. We have been
fighting skirmishes for nearly a day now. We aren't sure the total
number of drow forces, but the numbers appeared to be manageable.

"Shields High," he commanded! "Arrows incoming!"

The blue sky was suddenly blocked from view as we interlocked our shields
in unison. Arrows bounded and rebound off our shields like the sound of
heavy rain through the summer leaves of the giant oak trees. The rain of
arrows lasts only moments, but as we reassembled to advance our formation
we saw the company of drow archers off in the distance drawing for
another volley. With the advancing platoon, this would create
casualties.

We met force on force with the platoon as the commander called out the
next volley of arrows in coming. Like a well-oiled machine the interior
rows, those not on the front line, raised and interlocked their shields.
It gave partial cover to the front line but it wouldn't be perfect. The
drow's sapper platoon was not well equipped to face our sword and shield
formation. I deflected dagger and mace strike with ease. I saw out of
my peripheral that a drow was about to slip a dagger in my
brother-in-arms belly. A hard bash against the drow stopped her cold.
It was then that arrows came down, and I was fully exposed from the
shield bash. Like a pin cushion arrows began to protrude from my chest!

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