#azata path

[laurelindis]

Happy birthday @nnibarrel ! Ramien is for you^^

[nnibarrel]

Desnan adepts without context.

Thall: "…Still, I think they've been away too long. I've tried to trace the teleportation twice, and… uh… failed." Ilkes: "Surely you don't mean that we teleportedthe champion of the gods, the crusaders' Knight Commander, and our friend, to a random point in space? With no way of even knowing exactly where? Ilkes is clearly beginning to panic." KC: "That's exactly what you did, you dimwits." Aranka: "Commander! You're back! What was it like? Was it beautiful? asks Aranka with bated breath, as her friends erupt in cheers and whoops of jubilation." ... Thall: "Thall the Wallflower takes a deep breath to speak and says with all the determination he can muster, No way. I'm not teleporting our friend to an unknown destination ever again. We'll try once more if we improve the ritual to make it more predictable. But… to be honest… I'm not sure it can be done."

Aranka: "Wallflower, I've told you so many times, you have an amazing voice! So deep, so striking… I'd have you trained up in a snap if only you wanted to sing!" Thall: "Sing? Me…? Just… no. Besides, I don't like being on show like that. Oh, look, Commander is here! It's probably something urgent!"

Ilkes: "Don't you miss the city, Aranka? People used to pack into the square to hear you sing." Aranka: "Il, you're hilarious. Of course I don't! What Desnan bard would actually miss the city? It's here that I have all of you and a magic garden in the middle of the Worldwound. But even if I didn't have that, even I was entirely alone, I could always sing for the clouds and the wind!"

Thall: "I'd love to see what Aivu will be like when she grows up. Adult dragons of her kind possess unique abilities. That said, that story about being able to breathe candy is probably made up."

"All three Desnan adepts are busy. Ilkes is praying, Aranka is practicing a new song, and Thall is immersed in his scrolls, stealing the occasional glance at Aranka."

Ilkes: "I never thought I'd ever meet someone like Arueshalae. She's a demon who wants to be better, she's been chosen by Desna, and she's… incredible. The times we live in are terrifying, but when miracles like this happen, you just can't help but believe that hope is shining bright and the world is changing for the better."

Ilkes: "I-It can't be! Are we… flying?!" Thall: "More like floating. Wallflower is calm and collected compared to the others, but his eyes are alight in a way you've never seen before. Our Court is now a floating island." Aranka: "Oh, Commander, is there no limit to the wonders that happen around you and because of you?" ... Aranka: "I can't believe this is all for real! It's just awesome! But… Wallflower, please tell me you have a couple levitation spells handy for us to get down safely!"

Ilkes: "Who thought it was a good idea to hang a hammock at the edge of the ridge? And how are we going to prevent our brave gnomes from using it as a swing?"

[dujour13]

falling and/or breeze for the micro fic prompts :-D

Hello Kat! Thank you so much 💕 I chose breeze but I'm saving falling just in case.

Also on AO3

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In the lush jungle underbrush of the Mountains of Miraculous Monsoons crouches a terrifying creature: a wyrmling of shimmering purple scales, dragonfly wings and a mouthful of razor-sharp baby teeth bared in breathless giggling.

She knows her auntie will eventually find her and give her a tickling to within an inch of her life after that stunt bending a branch into the waterfall so that it sprayed the elder havoc dragon in her sleep, but for now she is well hidden, camouflaged among drooping purple blooms.

Something tickles her nose. She sneezes and sits up.

Not a flower petal or a butterfly, and luckily not an Elysian wasp. No, it is something else strange in the air, something new and dangerous and wonderful.

Music? Aivu cocks her head. Drifting on the breeze like fragrant pollen, musical notes so light and soft they make her sneeze again. Strings, she decides, like a harp but less harpy. Like a fiddle but less fiddly. Sad, but sad in a way that makes you want to fly into the wind. A melody of adventure from a faraway land!

Curious snout in the air, she follows the breeze out of the underbrush, over the river, down the mountainside a little way through a grove of mango trees, to a hidden pond where she sometimes plays with the talking, multicolored frogs. Only there are no frogs now. The pond has been replaced by a shimmering pool of gold and purple light, a sparkling mist rising off its surface in lazy tendrils.

The music sounds stronger here. It tugs on her heart until it almost aches, like taffy on her teeth.

But behind the music from the pool-portal there are other sounds—sounds of bad things. The roar and clash of fighting. People crying. People who need cheering up!

And in the midst of all that sadness someone playing music, the kind that makes you cry soothing tears until you hiccup and fall asleep and wake up happy again.

Aivu realizes with excitement she knows this musician. She doesn’t know how, because they’ve never met, but her heart is as sure of it as cake.

My friend!

[lukedanger]

So, I was curious as to how Azata's abilities would sync with paladin in Wrath of the Righteous if not for the Lawful alignment issue (turns out: surprisingly well thanks to paladin's naturally high charisma attribute!), and it ended up triggering Aivu talking to the player for the first time... leading to this:

The cute dragon is threatening the KC in the first meeting! Well, at least not being evil will be the easy part! As for being a teensy bit rebellious... does telling Konomi where to stick the Royal Council selling Mendev out to Cheliax count?

But what if the Knight-Commander's heart is to do Iomedae and her Hand proud? :(

[starlightcleric]

So, I'm on my third attempt at Azata, hopefully third time's the charm. I'm still trying to develop the newest as a character, but I feel like rambling about them. (picrew here)

Amie Verdier, NG tiefling Hunter from the River Kingdoms, follower of Desna. Romancing Lann. Amie was my second character ever, actually, after Lorraine. She was first a Ranger before I realized I basically just recreated Arueshalae so she got respec-ed to Nature Shaman and then Hunter. She has an elk named Clover. The idea for her game was to get as many companions animal companions as possible and then share out my Teamwork Feats with Life Bonding Friendship. But I've restarted her game like, four times? Eventually I admitted she just wasn't catching my interest.

Angelina Ylvaris, CN->CG half-elf Bard from Mendev, follower of Calistria. Romancing Daeran. Angelina was my depression game, where I was starting to want to play video games again but I wasn't able to interact with mechanics so I just went through the game exploding all the enemies with Toybox. She got up to the end of Act III, but I've kind of lost interest in her game because it doesn't have any mechanical depth and it reminds me of when I was in a bad place.

Delilah Fujimori, N kitsune Sorcerer (Nine Tailed Heir), fey bloodline, from ???, follower of Shelyn. Romancing Lann or Woljif. My newest addition, who is mechanics first and I'm figuring out her backstory as I go along. She's an Enchantment focused Sorc, and has a DC 20 Will Save for the cantrip Daze. Will eventually be adding Favorable Magic, Zippy Magic, and Best Jokes in here. It's been real fun early game, but I suspect it'll fall off late game (I can't see CC-ing Deskari, for example).

[anony-mouse-writer]

im playing pwotr and couldnt find ramien after he ran off. i wanna do an azata path (my friend whose played the game told me about the mythics), so this is an issue.

i finally get made to do the defender’s heart fight and after 4 failures (communal protection from poison is my favorite spell ever now), i finally beat it.

and then i finally look up where to find ramien and he’s gone and hulruns gone and it turns out my game bugged out and both he and hulrun have vanished! so i end up loading a pre-DH save (sobbing) and find him first, do the fight again and just as the third stage starts MY COMP CRASHES

so now i get to do this fight for the 7th time and im still on my first playthru T-T

[dujour13]

Screaming foaming at the mouth Cassy. Not only is this gorgeous but I'm eating the symbolic elements with a great big spoon. What a stroke of genius, Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People for Siavash the Andoren patriot and azata commander. He is Mendev's "La Marianne" (except not tits out. for now). The transformed Sword Tree of Valor, the butterflies, the flowers springing to life under his feet, just brilliant 😳❤️😭 Vive la Révolution !!

For @dujour13's art trade--Siavesh as a rebel to the Abyss! This was a lot of fun to draw and I'm so happy I got the opportunity to do so.

[alienturnipp]

!! Reposting her because I accidentally deleted the post 😂

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Ballad for the Saints Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: T Status: In Progress (2/?) Main Characters: Knight-Commander Piper Chanterelle, All Companions Additional Notes: Novelization of Piper's Playthrough, Eventual Azata Path, Act 1 Word Count: 4.7k Summary:

When demons descend upon Kenabres, a tiefling bard with no name of her own and no place in the Crusades finds herself caught in the field of destruction. Worse than that, she finds herself inexplicably pulled into the front lines of the city’s defense as she struggles to understand the mighty and mysterious power she wields. Though the power is holy and her memories are muddled, she is certain of one thing: she is not the saint these people need her to be. So Piper does what any good bard does- she spins a song, she weaves a tale, and she makes the story her own.

read here on ao3

chapter 1 below

Death comes in the tolling of a bell.

The sound fills her head, spreads through her bones, reverberates harshly within her chest. It drowns out all other noises which once threatened to overwhelm her, those roars and crashes and shouts. Even her own screams fall suddenly silent as the tolling draws itself out in one long, unwavering cry. When the sound sweeps through her soul, memories come with it, flooding over her mind and slipping like silk between her fingers.

Running through crowded streets as twilight descends on the city.

Dancing in front of an audience, her ribbons a twirling whirlwind around her.

Sitting by the fireplace as her mother brushes her hair.

Watching a performance in hushed awe, envy burning like an ember inside her.

Whispering a prayer to the stars that glitter above like jewels in a dark velvet sky.

Magic rushing to her fingers, and the swell of pride that comes with it.

The cut of steel into her skin.

A gentle tracing of fingers along her arms, the touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

A heavy weight of judgement in the eyes of those who fear her.

Soft notes weaving through the air as she commands the room through the music of her lute.

Long days of stillness and silence.

Pain.

Her voice lifting in song, in screams, in an echo of the whisper soft in her ear- I promise.

A sharp breath bursts from her lungs, and as the deep tones of the bell recede from her mind, she opens her eyes.

The first thing she notices is the raucous pounding in her head.

Stars above, but it feels as if she’s just gone through three barrels of wine. She’s fairly certain she hasn’t- she remembers the festival, yes, but she never actually drinks much at those, and she’s been traveling long enough to know to keep her wits about her…hasn't she? It's difficult to say for certain; yesterday feels so distant now, and her thoughts are hazy and blurred. She tries to pull herself up off the ground and immediately regrets the action as every bone in her body rings out in protest.

(Stars, what has happened to her?)

She sits for a while, just breathing, and ever so slowly, bits and pieces of her memory return. There was a festival. Someone launched an attack- no, not just someone, demons- and she’d gotten lost in the storm of chaos and locusts. Then the ground had crumbled beneath her feet-

With that flash of understanding, the pains and aches make much more sense. She forces her aching head to focus long enough to get a good look around and quickly confirms that, yes, her memories are correct.

She currently is trapped in a giant hole.

Wonderful.

A small, insistent slice of sunlight has managed to slip through the ragged scar in the earth above, illuminating her surroundings. The walls are far too steep and tall to climb- and besides, she has no desire to return to the ruined battlefield above. Thankfully, she’s not completely trapped; in the weak light she can just barely make out a narrow path twisting away into the distant darkness.

She closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. The rhythm of her heartbeat is still echoed by a pulse of pain throughout her body, but she knows she has two choices: stay here and hope that someone will find her and fish her out of this impromptu grave, or set off into the ominous underground tunnels and hope they don’t lead her to some horrid monster’s lair.

This is exactly why she should’ve left Mendev in the dust when she had the chance.

(Didn’t she think that once before? Whe re had she wanted to go?)

The self-pity is comforting, but only for a moment. With a quiet groan, she pushes herself to her feet, stretching out her muscles and trying not to pay much mind to her aches. Sitting here doing nothing is as good as dying, and frankly, that option just doesn’t appeal to her much. The only real choice is to move forward. As far as she can tell, she has nothing but the clothes on her back, but she runs a hand over her pockets anyway. Maybe she has something useful tucked away- a dagger, or if she’s extremely lucky, some health potions…

Her hand comes back dark red and slicked with blood.

The wound is on her chest, large and gaping and bleeding through her tunic. It had escaped her notice before, simply because it doesn’t hurt- and why doesn’t it hurt, it should hurt, shouldn’t it? She automatically clasps her hand to the injury again, but before her fingers reach the wound it’s closed itself, her skin knitting together and leaving only a faint scar along her chest.

Her knees, already sore from the fall, give up the fight completely, and she stumbles back to the ground. She barely notices the fall; she still has one hand pressed to (her neck) her chest, where her strange wound which had certainly been there just moments before has simply stitched itself together. Blood remains- difficult to see against the natural rosy-red of her skin but still very much present, proof that this was more than mere imagination.

“What…” she whispers, her mind now spiraling as this day just keeps getting stranger. Although maybe it’s not so strange- she knows her fair share of magic, after all. (Doesn’t she?) Perhaps she’s spontaneously added healing to her arcane repertoire. Or perhaps she’d simply hit her head in the fall much harder than she thought.

But she can only allow herself a few moments of panicked confusion before deciding that this is one of those times when the wisest thing to do is to not ask questions. At this very moment, she’s not in danger of bleeding to death, and that will just have to be good enough for now.

Returning to the task of escape, she tears a few pieces of fabric from her long skirt- a pity, but it’s already ruined beyond hope of salvaging- and ties one of the cloth pieces around her scar, just in case the wound decides to open up again. The other she uses to tie back her matted silver hair, thanking her stars that no blood is leaking from her head and that her horns remain smooth and unbroken.

Her weapons (weapons?) have vanished, but there’s nothing to be done about that; her trick swords wouldn’t be much use down here, anyway, not if there’s anything truly dangerous lurking in the shadows. She does, at least, find her small carved flute tucked away in her skirts. Maybe it’s silly, but having the familiar (familiar?) object back in her hands is actually quite the comfort.

All in all it isn’t much, but it’s far better than nothing. She’s certainly had to make do with less. (Hasn’t she?)

And so with one hand gripping the flute and the other held aloft to provide a soft magical light, the displaced bard gathers as much courage as she can scrape together and limps off into the shadows.

[muskegs]

rainier rainier

[rpgchoices]

Companions' reactions to choosing the Azata path!

Ember, Sosiel and Seelah seem to be the ones who approve the most! Daeran does not mind (but he is much more enthusiastic in the Trickster path), Regill hates it, Ulbrig is suspicious.

(Nenio always comments the same)

[thatratgo]

This is what the commander and Regill's relationship looks like in trickster path. It's just how it is.

[rivilu]

Trickster mythic 10. bad / good end.

Bonus little outfit:

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 18. Dancing lights

Part 1 of 2 of "Blue Skies Over Mendev" - also on AO3

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When in her unnaturally long life, Galfrey wondered, had the storms of chaos ever ceased thundering on her horizon? She squinted across the valley to the fortress prison of Threshold where it squatted atop the next ridge under writhing black clouds, bolts of Abyssal lightning flickering on her upturned face.

Could this truly be the end?

And she, no more than a spectator?

No—she must come to peace with it. She’d done her part all these hundred years and more. Worked until days and nights bled together into a ceaseless, weary march. Fought until her bones felt they would crack under the blows. The black blood of the balor Khorramzadeh stained her white-and-gold armor but even that felt like a trivial victory next to what the Knight-Commander faced even at this moment.

She could only hold vigil. Watch and hope.

If he failed and the Abyss was unleashed she and her armies would never have time to retreat; they would all perish here. Their lives, the future of Mendev and that of Golarion itself hung in the balance and all she could do was helplessly search the maelstrom over Threshold for a sign.

And pray. But she’d been doing that so fervently for so long it felt like empty, rote words now, a senseless child’s rhyme answered only with silence. The Inheritor had come down from the Heavens not to her, but to Siavash Mirani, some feckless Andoren diplomat with no title and no heroic deeds to his name, just a guitar and a charming smile.

And, she reminded herself, a genius for rallying the myriad forces of good to one final, triumphant push against the Abyss, guided not by careful planning but what could only be divinely inspired reckless impulse. So be it, she told herself for the hundredth time. If it was Desna’s star that guided them to victory who was she, the faded old Paladin Queen, to think she could outshine it?

She felt rather than heard them gathering, common soldiers and generals alike, shoulder to shoulder, all watching, all holding their breath, all daring to hope.

That was it, wasn’t it? Hope. After four failed crusades Galfrey herself no longer inspired such emotion. But Siavash did, rising from the ashes of Kenabres to victory after victory with his songs and his azata wings and his arms that embraced all, even those Galfrey’s Mendev had rejected and disdained.

And after all, she too dared to hope.

That was why she was here on the ridge rather than spending her final hours in her chapel tent in meditation. In tense and silent vigil she watched daylight wane, and by the time the baleful purple Abyssal lights began to soften she wasn’t sure if it was a trick of a mind deeply fatigued by decades of fighting. Of eyes that had hardly dared to blink in a century.

But she heard a murmur go up around her and felt a thrill in her heart such as she hadn’t since she was a blushing debutante.

No, her eyes did not deceive her—from Threshold there now grew a rosy hue like a spring dawn, lighting the angry clouds from below. The boiling storm began to contract and retreat, dark vapors dissipating on a fresh breeze.

A roar rose around Galfrey. Awed voices, so moved they could only moan incoherently.

Her eyes grew round and her vision swam; and suddenly, refracted through the pools of weary tears blazed a vast, glorious rainbow that split the night sky like a holy blade. Dazzled she squeezed her eyes shut just as her heart too squeezed with an ache that was deep and old and bitter.

Could it be?

Over at last?

“Inheritor.” Her breath rushed out in a sob.

If she weren’t the Queen she might have fallen to her knees as the rest of the crusaders did, but instead she stood rigid at their head, her breast rising and falling like that of a panicked bird.

And then Threshold lit up like an enormous Elysian beacon, beams of spring sunlight exploding from its walls, a shockwave of unearthly force blasting through the crusader ranks and nearly toppling her, and then like a gargantuan breath sucked back in, another shockwave blew through them from behind and nearly knocked them off the ridge.

Now the ridge and the valley all around her erupted into triumphant shouts and she felt her shoulders buffeted as crusaders surged forth roaring to greet the new dawn.

Something in Galfrey gave way then. Crumbled like a dam of sand.

Through her tears, the lights of Elysium danced.

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

There was a fun conversation happening in the Owlcat discord a while back where someone just could not understand why Iomedae is so against any mythic path that isn't Legend or Angel.

The two factions were Team 'Stupid Lawful Iomedae' and Team 'Stupid Writing' and unfortunately both of them are wrong. Trust me, my cousin's a lawyer.

It's not that being Lawful makes Iomedae stupid, it's that being Lawful means that she has to do some pretty heinous, backhanded shit to secure the legitimacy of her worship - and this is because that's what her church wants.

Throughout the game's narrative it's made abundantly clear that the Crusade isn't about preventing loss of life or retaking the blighted lands or even just saving people from horrible demise: it's about 'restoring order' and 'returning to the status quo,' for the purpose of insinuating Cheliaxian law on that region of Golarion. It's always been about expansion and conquest "done by the right people." It was convenient to sit for years letting the indigenous Kellids and Sarkorian population die out when the Wound first opened, so a Cheliax-backed conquering force could move in from their already established bases and annex all of that land for themselves.

That's why Lady Konomi is always pushing for the Knight Commander to kowtow to the Capital and the Capital's Allies in Cheliax. Mendev is excellently positioned to become an "ally" (read: vassal state) to Cheliax and secure their holdings in that central region - something that had already been in motion.

If you played Kingmaker, it was heavily implied (if not outright stated) that Pitax was the Chelaxian wedge in the River Kingdoms; losing that land to the suddenly extraordinarily successful barony-to-kingdom would have been a HUGE blow. Pushing even harder to have Mendev pick up the slack - especially with them being neighbors - would have been a major priority. It has never been about saving people.

Yes, by Gods, the Angel path does a lot of lip service towards the cause of the righteous, the inherent horror and sympathy of Galfrey's position, and the relative powerlessness of the Angelic Host to do much of anything without a mortal champion at the tip of the spear. But that mortal champion must also be aligned with the wants of the church, which are the wants of Cheliax. That mortal champion cannot be tainted by, say, a personal belief that slavery is wrong even if it is the law. Even if the Angel by their side also carries that belief*.

Demons are chaotic, and their hierarchy is lawless, therefore it MUST be Iomedae and her Crusade that heals the worldwound because that proves the rule of law. It doesn't matter to Iomedae and her followers that the Azata are often THE guys to go to for stopping demon incursions** - it's about proving that their method is superior, righteous, and good. Even if that means allowing slavery, standing by as an indigenous population gets wiped out, and outright stalling the war effort if it gets in the way of political landgrabbing.

@thedosianexplorer also makes a good point about how the Crusade in-game reflects the real-world historical attitude of 'Crusading as an Act Of Love:' "if the good townsfolk die while we're not stopping this demon incursion, as long as they already loved and followed Iomedae, so they're saved, so it's fine."

All this to say, I don't think this is a case of Stupid Character or Stupid Writing - it's very deliberate. I also personally theorize that the other reason Iomedae('s Church) is so obsessed with proving her legitimacy is because Iomedae personally took out Aroden to 'prevent him from falling to darkness.' Iomedae and her church are very 'if you have bad thoughts you are a bad person' so I feel as though presuming that starts with her icing Aroden because he was having Dark Thoughts isn't totally out of line here. Iomedae needed to kill Aroden because what else would she be if her God turned out to be corrupt?

*The Hand of the Inheritor's downfall during Act 4 is my favorite ingredient of this whole fucked-up recipe: He left the service of an angel that had risen from being a devil only to find himself in the service of a mortal-turned-god from the Slavery Is Good And We're Bros With Asmodeus Country. No wonder he freaks out so bad.

**I find it deeply compelling that even in our own real world cosmology, it's essentially Yazatas vs Demons and Angels vs Devils. So having the Angel faction come in and say 'actually we're way better for this job than you, and we're going to prove it and then everyone will see that the real righteousness is the righteousness of law' is a WILD narrative choice that I really jive with.

[lukedanger]

📓!

One idea I've been toying with was the idea of what if Elaina ended up becoming a mythic Azata instead of a mythic Angel, particularly as before alignment factors in the two actually sync up rather well with Charisma as the driving attribute. Of course, since this is the classic Lawful Good Paladin, this means that eventually one of the two have to give with all the consequences that follows.

The real thing that I like about the idea is the idea of a "fall" that is less "fell into darkness!" and more just serving the same cause in a different way because the story railroads her into picking between them. Mostly because I think the reason Elaina would pick Azata over Paladin is the very same reason she sticks on the Angel mythic path in her main run.