Here is my excessively long entry;
Aelynthi had thought her fortunes had turned around when she enlisted in the Order of the Shining Rose, a self-proclaimed order of Paladins devoted to the god Erastil based several miles outside the city of Elidir, in central Isger. Though she had never been more than passingly religious- enough to keep the local zealots off her back- the thought of regular meals and a free roof over her head was more than enough to turn her into a fair-weather friar after several months of near-starvation following the Goblinblood Wars. Though Erastil never responded to her lackluster devotions, her passing skill with the blade and her eager- if hotheaded- manner was enough to keep her within the order, earning her a place as an Initiate Paladin within 6 months. The Order itself was a bit of a lark- made up more of idealists and young eccentrics than seasoned veterans- and few within the city took them very seriously, save for the Diabloists of Cheliax, who sought to increase their influence, and who were more than a little hostile to the naïve Paladin order, though it seldom came to open conflict between the two parties. Some time into her second year as an Initiate- the preceding two years having been filled predominately with weapons training and the occasional dull sermon- the Order was called into the city of Elidir itself to help drive off the attentions of a particularly nasty cult who were suspected of abducting several citizens in the preceding weeks, none of whom had been seen again. Aelynthi found herself thrown into the rearguard of the strike team, outfitted in a suit of four-mirror armor and given a finely crafted falchion, the elder paladins intending her to gain a little experience in actual combat with little supposed risk.
Unfortunately, the assault went about as poorly as was humanly possible. Within the first three minutes of the engagement nearly every member of the Order was slain, the strike team finding itself outnumbered 3 to 1 in the small confines of the city basement they were directed to by the governor. It was not until several days later that Aelynthi learned that the governor had led her Order to slaughter deliberately, having caved to the demands of the growing Diabolist contingent within his city, who demanded their deaths as payment for promised wealth and power. As she watched her friends and mentors die by the score against hellish outsiders summoned by the Diabolic cult, Aelynthi prayed- not for grace or healing, nor for peace and honor, but for vengeance. Erastil- as so many times before- did not answer. But another did.
For the first time in her life, Aelynthi felt the strength of a god's blessing flow through her- not the peaceful, serene grace of Erastil's anemic creed, but the righteous, wrathful fervor of Ragathiel, General of Vengeance. With Ragathiel's burning blessing, Aelynthi fought her way free of the ambush, slaying several of the cult's demonic allies in a berserk fury. This rage dimmed only slightly in the coming days- fading to the background only when the perfidious governor lay dead at her feet, his promised rewards ungiven. Escaping the city just ahead of the headsman's axe, she fled to the nearby Kalistocracy of Druma, remaining there a few days before taking a ferry across the lake to the town of Vellumis in Lastwall. Feeling safe for the moment, she took a room at one of the local Inns and began to consider her options- Isger itself was not a powerful nation but she doubted her execution of the governor would be looked upon kindly by it's Chelaxian lords, and those were not the sort that one offended if they expected to go on living. The life of a wandering outlaw did not exactly appeal to her, but then neither did dying ingloriously at the hands of midnight assassins. With a steadily depleting purse, Aelynthi considered her frustratingly limited choices.
A few days into her deliberations, a newcomer came to the Inn, taking a room next to her own. This was not uncommon, however that evening as she sat at a nearby table in the common room, she noted a tattoo upon the newcomers hand- a demons grinning face with burning eyes. Several days of surreptitious shadowing along night-darkened alleys found Aelynthi in a now all-too familiar situation; a pack of Diabolist cultists in front of her with knives in hand, her falchion in her fist and Ragathiel's wrath welling up inside her. She had not been as sneaky as she had thought, and despite her precautions she had walked into yet another ambush. The Grandmaster would have been less than impressed, had she been alive to see Aelynthi now.
A minute or two saw several cultists on the ground in various states of mutilation, with Aelynthi herself sporting a dozen or so wounds that- though none were fatal- were certainly beginning to slow her down. With more than half a dozen cultists still standing, she considered that maybe she should have picked one of her terrible options sooner rather than later. As she wearily readied herself for what would almost certainly be the last clash- having glumly admitted to herself that it would likely see her joining the bodies underfoot- she was as astonished as the Diabolists to see the foremost cultist suddenly sprout an arrow in the throat and fall backwards, arms flailing, as a hail of shafts flitted down from the rooftops above to pierce chests, throats and limbs. Shrieking in fear, the last remaining cultist began to flee back down the alley, making it only a few strides before Aelynthi's falchion pierced him through the spine. As she turned clumsily from the corpse, sinking slowly to her knees beside it, a large shape dropped down from the nearby rooftop. Stepping forward from the shadows with hand extended, a gruff voice introducing itself as Jando Parr. With a drowsy grin, Aelynthi tried to put forth her hand to shake his- only blearily noting that the hand itself was greenish in tinge- before collapsing face-first into the dirt of the alley, unconscious.
It turned out that Jando Parr was a Ranger- a half-orc Ranger, to be precise- who acted as a sort of vigilante in Lastwall, hunting down members of a cult known as "The Whispering Way." Truth be told he had thought that the Diabolists of the night before had been members of that cult, else he may not have gotten involved, but having seen her skill with a blade he was glad he had- she may be useful. As she healed from her wounds over the next week, Jando brought her up to speed what he knew of The Whispering Way and its goals, as well as rumors he had heard regarding some potential cult activities in a village by the name of Roslar's Coffer. Before long Aelynthi found herself agreeing to travel ahead of him to the village and to meet up with him there, deciding that life as a vigilante would suit her far more than life as a refugee. Once her wounds were more or less healed she began making her way to the village, bidding farewell to Jando and mentally preparing herself for the coming storm. From what Jando had told her of the Whispering Way, she was certain that her god's righteous wrath would be more than well-deserved when it was brought down on the cult's heads
Build: intending to build as a 2H heavy hitter, with the Oath of Vengeance archetype giving me the option to sack some lay on hands per day for extra smites and netting me the ability to grant allies the effects of my smite starting at lvl 12. Was considering switching to a lancer build to complement our new samurai friend but its probably enough to have one mounted party member.