Comments and advice on angelic paragons?

[Sir_Chivalry]

I was wondering if I could get some critique on the fluff I made for some angelic paragons a while back. The idea was to create powerful angels in the vein of the Hebdomad for archons or the Demons Princes for the tanar'ri. In this endeavour, I have a few specific questions: Are they good as powerful entities? Do their goals and such make sense? Are they good aesthetically, creating a good mental picture?

I'll post one right now, and let me know if I should post them in bits or all at once.
The Paragon
Isamukemen is a tall figure, with glistening emerald skin and a bald head. Like the warriors of some Material Plane barbarian tribes, he is covered in ritual scars. But unlike the Material warriors, his scars are not tokens of his victories, but of each warrior he has lost, mortal, angel or archon. Each scar seems to run with emerald light, like luminescent streams, sometimes connecting and diverging. This luminescence glows strongest in his eyes, like two bright orange orbs of light set in his head. His right arm, long ago lost to a pit fiend in battle, is now replaced by a heavy mechanical arm, forged in one of the forge-creches of the inevitables as a gift in his war upon the formians. Though strong, the arm seems to weigh upon him, though it grows lighter with each piece he breaks off to give to his most powerful commanders. He is protected by a suit of brigandine armour, riveted with formian chitin on the inside. When joining combat, he often wields a halberd bearing a standard depicting a ring of celestial script enclosed by a square imbedded in a sun, his symbol. What the mortal versions of the celestial script carried by his followers say vary depending on the order, but Isamukemen's merely outlines his three unbreakable laws: That innocents are to be unharmed, that the enemy must be captured alive unless innocents will be harmed, and that everything must be done to win, unless it would interfere with the previous two.

His Realm
Isamukemen rules justly over his angelic bretheren in Arcadia from the Cathedral of the Honoured Vow, on a large floating citadel orbiting the Orb of Day and Night. The cathedral is a place of war, always preparing for the next incursion from the formians, or readying to send aid to the other celestial planes to stem the tide of demonic or infernal invasion. Many question why he does this. Some guess at it being an extreme of his nature as a planetar, others some aspect of being a celestial paragon. Both theories are partially correct, but his zeal is much more personal. The pit fiend who injured him has since risen in power, and Isamukemen, once frought with rage and vengeance, has turned his energies towards holding a mirror to the infernal armies of Baator, raising his own shining example to inspire others to resist the often too easy road of draconian measure, that justice is only worthwhile when tempered by the just.

What he does
Though known for his never-ending readiness for war, Isamukemen is noted for his gentle nature. He never raises his voice outside of battle, and demands of those sworn to him to do that same. His followers usually consist of paladins, marshals, and anyone who must command, whether large armies or small groups. Though he believes first and formost that an action taken to right injustice is itself just, he places importance on showing mercy and honour in combat.

His Order
His order among mortals takes inspiration from his war against the formians. Much as they grind others beneath their many legs to bring the multiverse to order, so too will many mortal factions stop at nothing to gain control of their fellow mortals. The mortal Order of the Honoured Vow seeks out slavers, conquerers and usurpers to ensure they do not abuse power, putting a stop to these violations where they can. Among like-minded allies, the commanders of this order can push them to new heights of courage and resolve. These commanders become fonts of inspiration and courage in Isamukemen's name.

Key issues: people generally say his symbol is too boring, and that he shouldn't be just a powerful planetar. Thoughts?

[Savannah]

Not really getting a "woah, he's awesome" vibe from that, unfortunately. Personally, I would probably restructure it, starting with the second paragraph, so that the reader has a clear mental picture of the dude, then going into the first and third paragraph to get an idea of what he does and what he represents, and finally ending with the fourth to cover his followers, as right now you've got the "what he does" bits separated.

A couple of specific points:

Isamukemen (Ee-saw-muu-kay-men)

The pronunciation guide throws me right out of "reading about a guy" mode. I think it could work in a list of stat-type information, but it was really jarring at the beginning of a fluff section.


What the mortal versions of the script say vary depending on the order, but Isamukemen's merely outlines his three unbreakable laws:

I don't understand what this means at all. What mortal versions of the script? You were just talking abut the dude's banner -- who has other versions of the script if his outlines his three unbreakable laws?

Also, as you may be able to tell by my repeated references to "guy" and "dude" his name is a pain to write (and say). Whether you do anything with that is up to you, but I'd be very surprised indeed if players remembered him by name as it is now.

[Sir_Chivalry]

Not really getting a "woah, he's awesome" vibe from that, unfortunately. Personally, I would probably restructure it, starting with the second paragraph, so that the reader has a clear mental picture of the dude, then going into the first and third paragraph to get an idea of what he does and what he represents, and finally ending with the fourth to cover his followers, as right now you've got the "what he does" bits separated.

A couple of specific points:


The pronunciation guide throws me right out of "reading about a guy" mode. I think it could work in a list of stat-type information, but it was really jarring at the beginning of a fluff section.



I don't understand what this means at all. What mortal versions of the script? You were just talking abut the dude's banner -- who has other versions of the script if his outlines his three unbreakable laws?

Also, as you may be able to tell by my repeated references to "guy" and "dude" his name is a pain to write (and say). Whether you do anything with that is up to you, but I'd be very surprised indeed if players remembered him by name as it is now.

Well, a present for staying up late! Okay:

Point taken on the restructuring and pronunciation, I'll get rid of those.

Mortal versions as in the versions of the symbol used by his mortal order. I understand how that would be unclear, I shall clarify.

Isamu and Kemen. Two proper names smooshed together. Like MichaelIssac. Yes, also quite a pain to write (I have muscle memory for that, writing it out for the class a few dozen times). As it is, my player's have an easy enough time with the name, but I'd hardly call them standard.

Other names:

Peoneir
Tresanerva
Agapaiel
Scarumaiel
Moriphractiel
Seraphitus

Issues in advance with those?

[Savannah]

Isamu and Kemen. Two proper names smooshed together. Like MichaelIssac. Yes, also quite a pain to write (I have muscle memory for that, writing it out for the class a few dozen times). As it is, my player's have an easy enough time with the name, but I'd hardly call them standard.

Actually, if you just separate them, they become much easier to remember. I think it's something about two 2-3 syllable words instead of one 5 syllable word.


Peoneir
Tresanerva
Agapaiel
Scarumaiel
Moriphractiel
Seraphitus

Issues in advance with those?

Well, most are a little bit long, again. I don't know about your players, but I can see a lot of jokes about "peon" coming up for the first one in certain types of groups.

[Sir_Chivalry]

Actually, if you just separate them, they become much easier to remember. I think it's something about two 2-3 syllable words instead of one 5 syllable word.

Sure, I'll give that a try.


Well, most are a little bit long, again. I don't know about your players, but I can see a lot of jokes about "peon" coming up for the first one in certain types of groups.

In this case, it's Peony and Eir, both words for peace. I'm very unimaginative that way.

I can separate Tresa Nerva, but that's about it for those guys.

[Tibbaerrohwen]

I agree that a little more description would be nice. I can imagine him, but not as an entire entity. I feel specifics would be nice. He's bald and green, and tall. He's covered in scars. What do the scars look like? Is there a sheen to his skin? What colour are his eyes? Does his mechanical arms weigh heavily on his body or does he carry it with ease?
I've read your other paragons and I know how detailed your imagination can be, so share it with us.

The goals of Isamukemen (I can say it but not spell it; I see nothing wrong with a pronunciation guide next to the names first appearance) make sense to me, but they do not seem distinctly separate from those of other angels/celestials/outsiders. Why does he do this? Is it simply to exterminate evil or is there a higher purpose?

[Sir_Chivalry]

Changes to Isamukemen (marked with blue)
Isamukemen is a tall figure, with glistening emerald skin and a bald head. Like the warriors of some Material Plane barbarian tribes, he is covered in ritual scars. But unlike the Material warriors, his scars are not tokens of his victories, but of each warrior he has lost, mortal, angel or archon. Each scar seems to run with emerald light, like luminescent streams, sometimes connecting and diverging. This luminescence glows strongest in his eyes, like two bright orange orbs of light set in his head. His right arm, long ago lost to a pit fiend in battle, is now replaced by a heavy mechanical arm, forged in one of the forge-creches of the inevitables as a gift in his war upon the formians. Though strong, the arms seems to weigh upon him, though it grows lighter with each piece he breaks off to gift his most powerful commanders with. He is protected by a suit of brigandine armour, riveted with formian chitin on the inside. When joining combat, he often wields a halberd bearing a standard depicting a ring of celestial script enclosed by a square imbedded in a sun, his symbol. What the mortal versions of the celestial script carried by his followers say vary depending on the order, but Isamukemen's merely outlines his three unbreakable laws: That innocents are to be unharmed, that the enemy must be captured alive unless innocents will be harmed, and that everything must be done to win, unless it would interfere with the previous two.

Isamukemen rules justly over his angelic bretheren in Arcadia from the Cathedral of the Honoured Vow, on a large floating citadel orbiting the Orb of Day and Night. The cathedral is a place of war, always preparing for the next incursion from the formians, or readying to send aid to the other celestial planes to stem the tide of demonic or infernal invasion. Many question why he does this. Some guess at it being an extreme of his nature as a planetar, others some aspect of being a celestial paragon. Both theories are partially correct, but his zeal is much more personal. The pit fiend who injured him has since risen in power, and Isamukemen, once frought with rage and vengeance, has turned his energies towards holding a mirror to the infernal armies of Baator, raising his own shining example to inspire others to resist the often too easy road of draconian measure, that justice is only worthwhile when tempered by the just.

Though known for his never-ending readiness for war, Isamukemen is noted for his gentle nature. He never raises his voice outside of battle, and demands of those sworn to him to do that same. His followers usually consist of paladins, marshals, and anyone who must command, whether large armies or small groups. Though he believes first and formost that an action taken to right injustice is itself just, he places importance on showing mercy and honour in combat.

His order among mortals takes inspiration from his war against the formians. Much as they grind others beneath their many legs to bring the multiverse to order, so too will many mortal factions stop at nothing to gain control of their fellow mortals. The mortal Order of the Honoured Vow seeks out slavers, conquerers and usurpers to ensure they do not abuse power, putting a stop to these violations where they can. Among like-minded allies, the commanders of this order can push them to new heights of courage and resolve. These commanders become fonts of inspiration and courage in Isamukemen's name.

Peoneir
The Paragon
Of the current five angelic paragons, Peoneir may be one of the strangest looking. She is the smallest of her companions at 9 feet tall. Her entire body is gray, a specific shade the perfect mix of brightest white and darkest black. Her eyes are different though, one solid white and one solid black. When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist. Though she is highly protected against most types of energy, including positive and negative energy, these clothes, made with metal shavings from the gears of Mechanus and cubes of Acheron and permanently "damp" with "water" from the Boccob's Well of Magic, protect her against the bleeding edge of energy and eldritch research she works with, absorbing any feedback or explosions into the clothes (worst comes to worst, she could pause her work for the year of time it takes to forge new ones). When entertaining guests or going to personally investigate something on the energy planes, she instead wears a suit of armour made from petrified blackened (bright white in her Basilica) feathers arranged like scale mail. Some of these feathers are cracked or missing, and Peoneir never speaks of the origin of her armour. When she is in the armour, various metallic circles are visible on her body, each three inchs in diameter. Silver and gold on her left and right hands, iron and copper on her left and right shoulders, tin and lead on her left and right feet, and a single suspended ball of mercury on her brow.

Once, Peoneir had wings, but a fiend of some great power (perhaps a demon prince), robbed her of them, attempting to leave her crippled. She can still fly, however, borne aloft by her purity and strength of conviction. Her body is surrounded by glowing sigils that appear above her head and cascade downward, disappearing once they are past her feet, each sigil whispering alchemical formulae and medical esotera. When she flies, these sigils also run along her wings stumps, continuing along where her wings would have been, forming a glowing outline of magestic wings. These sigils act both as protection, turning aside attacks, and as a second mind for Peoneir, holding alchemical knowledge so that she can focus her thoughts towards other pursuits. A ring of vials and flasks orbit her midsection, containing a substance called raw chaos. This substance, found in a weaker variety on the Material Plane, can be formed into any tool needed by Peoneir, sheerly through will. These vials and flasks were a gift from Tresanerva, the Lady of Ysgard, whom Peoneir is on friendly terms with.

Her Realm
Between the two layers of Bytopia there floats a large fortress. Shaped like an hourglass and suspended by the objective gravity of the plane, this is the Basilica of Merciful Fury. Within the halls of the Basilica, all colours and shades are reversed, causing the movanic devas that populate the fortress to appear jet black. When pressed for why this is done, Peoneir will only mutter something about "revealing the other side within". The Basilica functions as both a launching point for forays into the positive and negative planes (as well as the quasi-elemental planes) by Peoneir's forces, and also as the personal labratory of Peoneir. Within the inner chambers of the fortress, vials of ravid blood, samples of necrotic tissue and small shards of the mysterious planar currency of "hope" are stored and used in experiments by the mistress of the Basilica. The basilica also contains three small insulated rooms, filled with chains, ropes and shackles, for handling more difficult redemptions of captured foes. The possession of these objects within her fortress makes Peoneir's allies somewhat wary of her, but she maintains she is only ensuring the greatest good for all.

What she does
Peoneir's research and experiments with ravid blood, necrotic tissue, "hope" and other components is in pursuit of what she refers to as "the source of suffering". Once she discovers the source of suffering, she will use it to cure poisons, abolish disease, perhaps even reverse the effects of age. But her true hope is that the source will prove effective, once reversed effectively, in curing moral evil, removing temptation and even allowing fiends to live among the celestials in peace.

Her Order
The Order of Merciful Fury seeks out those who do evil, in an effort to contain them. If at all possible, the order tries to capture those who have fallen to evil and rehabilitate them. They are also skilled alchemists and doctors, serving their community by curing ailments and supplying local adventurers with various alchemical items. Peoneir's symbol is an hourglass filled with two liquids, one light and one dark, that never mix.

[Tibbaerrohwen]

I think the changes help. It's gives a more detailed vision of the character.

Peoneirs stuff i nice. I like the flow and the motivations is clearly stated. The description is detailed enough to make it clear but brief enough to keep interest.

[Savannah]

I would suggest making a standard template for the order of the items you're going to write about, as that will make it easier for DMs/players to find the information they want. I'd suggest something along the lines of "who they are, where they live, what they represent/do, who their followers are".


Changes to Isamukemen (marked with blue)

Very nice!


Though strong, the arms seems to weigh upon him, though it grows lighter with each piece he breaks off to gift his most powerful commanders with.

Your wording is kinda awkward here -- I'd go with "though it grows lighter with each piece he breaks off to give to his most powerful commanders." Also, I feel like this is a really cool idea that needs to be fleshed out more. Why does he break stuff off and give it to his commanders? What do the pieces do for his commanders? How does losing pieces affect the arm?


Peoneir

Again, the structure seems a little off to me. I didn't know she was a she until the second paragraph, for example.


[SPOILER]Between the two layers of Bytopia there floats a large fortress. Shaped like an hourglass and suspended by the objective gravity of the plane, this is the Basilica of Merciful Fury. Within the halls of the Basilica, all colours and shades are reversed, causing the movanic devas that populate the fortress to appear jet black. When pressed for why this is done, Peoneir will only mutter something about "revealing the other side within".

This is really cool, but it is confusing to start with as you have no idea who this Peoneir is.


Of the current five angelic paragons, Peoneir may be one of the strangest looking. She is the smallest of her companions at 9 feet tall. Her entire body is gray, a specific shade the perfect mix of brightest white and darkest black. Her eyes are different though, one solid white and one solid black. When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist, with thick heavy clothes and a heavy leather apron, tough leather gloves and boots, and a strong pair of goggles. Though she is highly protected against most types of energy, including positive and negative energy, these items, made with metal shavings from the gears of Mechanus and cubes of Acheron and permanently "damp" with "water" from the Boccob's Well of Magic, protect her against the bleeding edge of energy and eldritch research she works with, absorbing any feedback or explosions into the clothes (worst comes to worst, she could pause her work for the year of time it takes to forge new ones). When entertaining guests or going to personally investigate something on the energy planes, she instead wears a suit of armour made from petrified blackened (bright white in her Basilica) feathers arranged like scale mail. Some of these feathers are cracked or missing, and Peoneir never speaks of the origin of her armour. When she is in the armour, various metallic circles are visible on her body, each three inchs in diameter. Silver and gold on her left and right hands, iron and copper on her left and right shoulders, tin and lead on her left and right feet, and a single suspended ball of mercury on her brow.

Somehow, this seems much drier than Isamukemen's description. A list of facts about her and her clothes doesn't really help me picture her very well. Maybe try cutting out some of the miscellaneous description of her clothes? For example, "When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist, with thick heavy clothes and a heavy leather apron, tough leather gloves and boots, and a strong pair of goggles" could be cut down to "When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist" without losing any really important information.


Once, Peoneir had wings, but a fiend of some great power (perhaps a demon prince), robbed her of them, attempting to leave her crippled. She can still fly, however, borne aloft by her purity and strength of conviction.

This is probably more mechanical than fluff, but this doesn't sit right with me. She's crippled but, oh, no, wait, she's so perfect it doesn't matter! I personally find a crippled angel much more interesting, and much less Mary Sue-ish.


Peoneir's research and experiments with ravid blood, necrotic tissue, "hope" and other components is in pursuit of what she refers to as "the source of suffering".

This is my favorite thing I've read so far :smallbiggrin:

[Sir_Chivalry]

I would suggest making a standard template for the order of the items you're going to write about, as that will make it easier for DMs/players to find the information they want. I'd suggest something along the lines of "who they are, where they live, what they represent/do, who their followers are".



Very nice!



Your wording is kinda awkward here -- I'd go with "though it grows lighter with each piece he breaks off to give to his most powerful commanders." Also, I feel like this is a really cool idea that needs to be fleshed out more. Why does he break stuff off and give it to his commanders? What do the pieces do for his commanders? How does losing pieces affect the arm?

Will do, and as for your other question:


Gift of Law: A 10th level commander of Isamukemen is given a mighty gift by his paragon. The night after obtaining 10th level in this class, Isamukemen visits the commander in a dream, bestowing upon him pieces of inevitable armour that he received from his allies in Mechanus. Part of the commander's body is transformed into metal and gears, giving the commander a 25% chance to negate critical hits and sneak attack damage. The commander ceases to age from this point on, though he can still die from damage. The commander also gains a weakening touch attack once per day. If the commander hits with the attack, it deals no damage, but if the target has DR, it loses up to 10 points of it for 1 minute. The commander can use this touch additional times per day, but must expend two turn undead attempts each time.



Again, the structure seems a little off to me. I didn't know she was a she until the second paragraph, for example.



This is really cool, but it is confusing to start with as you have no idea who this Peoneir is.

I'll switch her physical description upward then. And thank you.


Somehow, this seems much drier than Isamukemen's description. A list of facts about her and her clothes doesn't really help me picture her very well. Maybe try cutting out some of the miscellaneous description of her clothes? For example, "When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist, with thick heavy clothes and a heavy leather apron, tough leather gloves and boots, and a strong pair of goggles" could be cut down to "When in her lab, she dresses in the manner of a mortal alchemist" without losing any really important information.

Will do, as long as you're sure it's clear enough in a collapsed format.


This is probably more mechanical than fluff, but this doesn't sit right with me. She's crippled but, oh, no, wait, she's so perfect it doesn't matter! I personally find a crippled angel much more interesting, and much less Mary Sue-ish.

The flying without wings is something Throne Archons do. Basically, I wanted her to not have wings and just hover places. The overwhelming response when I made the classes was "She's an angel! SHE NEEDS WINGS!" If I'm not mistaken, purity and strength of conviction is what the throne archon says (I may be wrong it might be taco-based diet), and she is meant to be more pure than that (although I'll allow that perhaps the angels aren't as strictly pure as archons)


This is my favorite thing I've read so far :smallbiggrin:

I'm glad you like.

Did you have any thoughts on the armour she wears?

Edit: and here's the next guy, why not?

The Paragon
Agapeial stands 11 feet tall, with copper skin and white feathery wings. His mignight blue hair and beard both reach down to his stomach and his skin is speckled with flecks of green, yellow, olive and tan miniature bone plates. All about him transparent images flow, little spirits dancing around him in wheels. He wears no armour or garments, save a cloak of dire polar bear skin, complete with fur. He obtained the cloak from a mighty celestial dire polar bear he defeated in single combat, who gave itself up to gard the angelic paragon. Legend says that the cloak is impenetrable to all mortal and most immortal weapons. When battle comes to him, or if he must venture onto the transitive planes, Agapeial wields both a greataxe and a longbow to fight.

His Realm
Agapeial is the paragon of astral devas, the angels that watch over the portals to the transitive planes. He resides on the Beastlands, not in a fortress like his fellow angelic paragons, but in a travelling band of astral devas and awakened animals simply called the Farseeing. They travel all the Beastlands looking for intruders and evil creatures, expelling them where they can and killing when they must. The band sometimes numbers hundreds strong when a dire threat is posed by the fiends or the armies of the transitive planes, but usually most of his awakened animals are on their own in the plane, and most of his astral devas are fighting the githyanki of the Astral Plane, the ethergaunts of the Ethereal Plane, or the shadar-kai of the Shadow Plane.

These fights do sometimes claim the lives of his astral devas, and though they can't truly die, they must still wait for 99 years before reforming, and so Agapeial has devised a way for them to contribute to the effort even in pseudo-death. He binds the spirits of slain angels into the weapons and armour of his armies, thus making each wave more potent then the last.

What he does
Agapeial is a frequent visitor to the Grove of Unicorns on Krigala in the Beastlands, the domain of Ehlonna. He meets with the goddess of nature there, and some rumour that they are lovers. This does seem to have some substance to it, as clerics and druids of Ehlonna are often directed by their goddess to aid the Order of the Farseeing. The other nature gods give Agapeial a lesser, but still varying, response. Obad-hai and the various minor nature gods of neutrality mostly ignore Agapeial in his crusades, since his war is upon the transitive planes and not nature. Many of the evil deities of nature attempt to thwart his Order when possible, seeking to limit the celestial influence in what they see as the otherwise terrible beauty of nature. Servants of certain "nature-based" demon lords such as Zuggtmoy also may oppose the works of Agapeial, seeking to sow destruction, not caring for natural or celestial grace in any fashion.

His Order
The mortal Order of the Farseeing concerns itself mainly with Agapeial's two open-ended mandates when the order was founded; "be vigilant to evil" and "deliver innocence from ravage". Most members of the order spend great amounts of time in the wilderness seeking to discover evil before it harms the innocent, fulfilling both mandates, but all members remember these two things in everything they do. Agapeial's symbol is a nine-pointed star, three points black, three gray and three white, set into a circle of some metal.

[Savannah]

Did you have any thoughts on the armour she wears?

To be honest, the first time through I didn't even notice she had armor, as I was skimming when I hit the detailed clothing descriptions. On rereading, it's pretty cool, but I'm not sure what the glowing bits on her has to do with her armor.


Edit: and here's the next guy, why not?

I like the structure on this one -- I got a clear picture of him before you moved on to the other stuff, which made it much easier to understand and remember all the information about him.


his skin is speckled with flecks of green, yellow, olive and tan miniature plates.

I'm not 100% sure what you mean here -- I keep envisioning a guy with little dessert plates all over his body...


He wears no armour or garments, but instead is clad in a cloak of dire polarbear skin, complete with fur.

Polar bear is two words. Also, isn't a cloak of polar bear skin a garment?

[Sir_Chivalry]

To be honest, the first time through I didn't even notice she had armor, as I was skimming when I hit the detailed clothing descriptions. On rereading, it's pretty cool, but I'm not sure what the glowing bits on her has to do with her armor.

It doesn't, it's a part of her body.


I like the structure on this one -- I got a clear picture of him before you moved on to the other stuff, which made it much easier to understand and remember all the information about him.



I'm not 100% sure what you mean here -- I keep envisioning a guy with little dessert plates all over his body...

That would be because I switched where the paragraph was.

Bone plates, ridges of tough armour.


Polar bear is two words. Also, isn't a cloak of polar bear skin a garment?

No:smalltongue: Never!!:smallbiggrin:

Well, he's naked besides that.

I've added nice little headings to everything for easy navigation of fluff.

And here is the next one in the line:

The Paragon
Tresanerva stands 12 feet tall, with dark brown skin covered in sharp obsidian blades and spikes inset with sparkling quartz-like gems. Her hair is jet, streaked with fiery orange red, a holdover from her time in the mortal realm, and she carries a harp strapped to her back. Her wings are almost always neatly folded behind her back, and she usually dresses in the courtly garb of a lady of Ysgard, wearing fine dresses and rich furs.

Her Realm
Within the depths of Nidavellir, the lowest layer of Ysgard, nestled in a realm of brilliantly veined rock, lies the Hall of Righteous Vindication. Within this hall dwell many angels and eladrin, all who make a solemn vow, to never use their wings in battle unless in a need to aid others. This vow is taken before Tresanerva, the paragon of the Ysgard angels and a recent ascendant to the position. Tresanerva remembers her time as a mortal, and the good done by walking among those you help, and so wishes her angels to learn to walk as most mortals do, to feel their fatigue and their strength.

Tresanerva is also the only one of the current angelic paragons to have taken a consort, a shiradi eladrin bard by the name of Hasifvyn. He rules in her hall when she is making appearances at the halls of the Ysgard gods, and trains her monadic deva guard while she is present in her halls. Many poems and songs have been composed about their courtship and love, many of them written by the two themselves, and it is rumoured that they are two souls who were in love in mortal life, reunited in the celestial realms.

What she does
In addition to repelling invasion by the slaad from Limbo and demons from lower planes, Tresanerva is set with the task of watching the elemental planes, ensuring no trouble comes from the elemental or para-elemental planes, and sharing the responsibility with Peoneir to watch the quasi-elemental planes. Recently Tresanerva has attempted to receive a visit from Peoneir to her realm in order to gain the brilliantly intelligent angel's aid in deciphering a connection between Limbo's raw chaos and the elemental planes.

The gods of Ysgard, Olidammra and Kord, as well as the Asgardian pantheon, all consider Tresanerva to be company of the finest sort. Olidammra invites her to his manse to hear her compositions of music and match riddling wits, while Kord seeks the competition of an angel who is willing to stow her wings, running foot-races and performing feats of strength. She is no match for either of these gods in their realms, but she is always gracious in defeat, and she loves to test petitioners of both gods as well. Among the Asgardians, she is closest with Thor and Sif, though her relationship with both has become strained of late due to her recent friendships struck with both Surtur and Thyrm. Like her other angelic bretheren, she believes in the goodness in the hearts of these gods, who like their mortal subjects were once great, but have been villainized and harried by others.

Her Order
Tresanerva's mortal order concerns itself with battling those who steal secretly into the lives and homes of decent folk, earning them no love from doppelgangers, lycanthropes and the rakshasa. Those who threaten lives, homes and crops are dealt with as swiftly as possible, keeping those that can be spared alive. Though the shapechanging metallic dragons do not share the order of Tresanerva's ethical outlook, they are more than willing to aid this group, both to further goodness and to deflect the more radical in the order from turning their eyes to the great gold, silver and bronze beasts. Rebellion is also the purview of the order, and those that seek to oppress a population soon find themselves facing the unarmed masters who call themselves the furies. The only mandate of the order besides seeking those who walk among decent folk cloaked is the defeat of evil creatures. Though the order revels in the defeat of fiends, when a fury encounters an evil non-outsider, the fury must show mercy to the creature, whether it be a lowly orc or a mighty beholder, knowing that Tresanerva teaches that all creatures can be redeemed. Tresanerva's symbol is black spiked fist, often obsidian, though some members of the order have symbols made from jet, onyx or a more mundane black stone.

[Savannah]

It doesn't, it's a part of her body.

Which I think is why I was confused -- I don't see why it happens or what the significance is.


I've added nice little headings to everything for easy navigation of fluff.

I like it! Hmm...reading it this way, I wonder if you should combine the physical description and what s/he does into the first "The Paragon" section. You would just need to make sure that the what s/he does section doesn't require any knowledge of his/her realm (well, beyond the fact that a realm exists), but it might flow better that way. I can see it either way, so go with what you prefer.


And here is the next one in the line:

I don't really have much to say about this one -- looks good to me!

[Sir_Chivalry]

And we have the last of the good angels

A Prologue
The fabled shores of Avalon cannot be reached easily, distant and hard to understand. Scarumaiel's power and prestige, her role as leader of the angelic paragons, and even her very existence is tied to this plane and its mysteries. Long ago, three powerful fiends sought out Avalon for various reasons, each hoping the mercurial plane could prove fruitful where all others had failed. They sought happiness, prestige and fulfillment of nature, and Avalon perceived their pain, a pain born of evil itself, and made their presense known to the solar angels that stalk Avalon's shores.

With their deathes at the hands of the solar angels, each fiend's soul-body drifted on the tides of Avalon, floating on the rivers, running with the currents, and wafting on the mists, drawn to an island far removed from the others. When all three of the fiends soul-bodies rested on a hill overlooking the island, they all burst into flames, igniting a prismatic yet colourless fire that came to be known as the Thrice-Bound Soul.

At this time, another fiend became drawn to Avalon, seeking the three who had gone before. A pit fiend of some great arcane skill, Scarumaiel sought the energies of the Thrice-Bound Soul, hoping to use this energy to carve out a realm on a plane removed from her infernal masters. When she finally beheld the monumental pyre, she found the three fiends had become redeemed by the nature of Avalon, and that their energies would be of no use to her. Where she had hoped to use the fiends to further her goals, the Thrice-Bound Soul now reached into her soul, and redeemed her, removing the weight of evil from her heart, and setting her upon a new path, to bring enlightenment and redemption to both the mortal world and one day to her former extended family, the fiends.

The Paragon
Standing two stories high, Scarumaiel is by far one of the largest celestials in existence. Her appearance changes often, sometimes appearing like one of her solar angel soldiers, and sometimes like the bestial pit fiend she once was. Her body is a bright silver, nearly always shimmering white in the moonlight of Avalon, mared (or accented) only by swirling patterns of red scales running along her body, branching out from her chest and back to stretch out to clawed feet and hands, and two swept back horns on her head. Her eyes are glowing pools of white, misty energy spilling forth from them at all times, and her wings are neither feathered (as she was not always angelic) or leathery (as she is no longer fiendish), but instead are intricate butterfly-like wings, opalescent and brilliant.

Her Realm and What she does
Though the Thrice-Bound Soul burns on the island now known as Fiend's Rest, Scarumaiel does not reside there, instead holding her court on a ship of unimaginable size, propelled by the waters of Avalon itself to patrol the plane and allow Scarumaiel to both give and receive counsel from the other powers of Avalon. Many a minor god of good has sought her words of wisdom on the nature of good, and even the mightiest of the good gods sometimes speak with her on important matters concerning the lower planes, wishing to know how she would have thought as a fiend herself.


Her Order
The Order of the Triumverate in the mortal realms concerns itself with only one thing, redemption of evil beings. Blackguards, warlocks, even ur-priests are the targets of the order's pursuits. The order seeks them out, captures them and attempts to turn evil's weapons to the pursuit of good. Scarumaiel's symbol is a silver and red flame.

[Savannah]

Awesome paragon! I'm assuming she looks like a pit fiend, other than what was specified in the description?

[Sir_Chivalry]

Awesome paragon! I'm assuming she looks like a pit fiend, other than what was specified in the description?

More like a female solar angel with pit fiend features. Or would you think otherwise would be better?

[Savannah]

Either way is good, but I'd suggest commenting on whether she still looks like a pit fiend, as I wasn't sure (mind you, I'm reading this while sick, so it's quite possible you've said it already and I'm just being dense).

[Sir_Chivalry]

Either way is good, but I'd suggest commenting on whether she still looks like a pit fiend, as I wasn't sure (mind you, I'm reading this while sick, so it's quite possible you've said it already and I'm just being dense).

Added this

Her appearance changes often, sometimes appearing like one of her solar angel soldiers, and somtimes like the bestial pit fiend she once was.

And, why not, the final two, a neutral one and evil one

A story of two brothers
Long ago, two angels were born from the essense of good, whether previously mortal or purely divine in nature it is not known. These angelic twins, Seraphitus and Moriphractiel, fought side by side in the War of Pesh, aiding the celestial hosts, quickly making names for themselves. And so it was decided, by the powers of law and the gods, that after the signing of the Pact Primeval, all remaining angels would be divided between the two. Seraphitus advised the lawful angels from the Alabaster Spires in K'un-L'un, while Moriphractiel led mighty hunts across Panagea, the Beastlands and Arborea, training the chaotic angels to hunt and watch, ever ready.

As time passed new angels rose to the level of the twins, and they welcomed them with open arms, seeking new brothers-in-arms. But Seraphitus secretly councilled Moriphractiel to avoid the others, not trusting those who had not been born in times of test by flame, proving mettle by hardship and war. These were softer angels, born of mortal virtues and deeds, and were thus flawed by mortal natures. A dark seed was planted by these words in the mind of Moriphractiel, and he withdrew to Pangaea, taking the angels directly under his command to the demiplane as well. Where once he had been an angel of strict emotion, unbridled joy, limitless sorrow, titanic fury and unquenchable lust, he now was ruled by a new master, doubt. It gnawed at his soul, causing him to place his faith in the vast beasts of Pangaea over the other angelic paragons, even sending his host of angels away to serve his brother.

Often he would send his astral form out upon the planes, spying on the "machinations" of the other paragons, and often having dalliances with mortal women, leading in those formative days of mortalkind to the Bloodline of Moriphractiel, a bloodline now weak and muddied ages later. Those who carried this bloodline often became great heroes, or great villains, the angelic blood giving mighty strength, burning passions, and keen minds.

While Moriphractiel fought a shadow war against non-existent enemies, Seraphitus carried on with his own goals. The advent of the new angels had left Seraphitus with little to do, and many angels to do it with, and so he sought new goals and aspirations, joining the Blood War for a short time, fighting on neither side but revelling in the bloodshed and death as the fiends threw themselves at each other, endless waves of tanar'ri breaking on the iron-wrought shield walls of the baatezu. Whenever one side would gain the upper hand, he would capture and kill their spies, cripple their supply lines, destroy their diviners, anything to leave the forces without vital knowledge and resources that would guarantee victory. When news of his actions reached the ears of the gods, they brought Seraphitus forth in chains to stand trial.

All wrong-doing was scourged from Seraphitus by Scarumaiel using the mists of Avalon, and the gods sent Seraphitus to parley with the now estranged Moriphractiel, hoping to assuage his fears and bring him back to the host of angelic paragons. When Seraphitus finally found his brother, Moriphractiel was more animal than angel, a furious monster of tooth and claw, bristling wings battered by titanic clashes with the prehistoric denizens of Pangaea, formed covered in literal "vines of doubt", sprouted by the seed planted in his soul long ago by his brother. And Seraphitus smiled.

The mists desperately sought to extinguish the smoldering coals of evil within Seraphitus, and he in turn sought to place them in another. After confronting his brother, he reached out with a hand and touched his face, Moriphractiel looking into his brother's eyes, and the lost angel spoke but three words, "End this please." Seraphitus, a loving smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, let the mists slip forth into Moriphractiel's body, scourging his soul and mind, attempting to redeem him, instead leaving him with naught by his wild and monsterous form, his soul convalescing in Seraphitus' hands. With this, Seraphitus fled to the Outlands, and from there entered K'un L'un, stealing into his Alabaster Towers and setting about fortifying it against attack. Each of the angels under his command underwent an apotheosis, the male angels becoming foul dark-scaled drakes of shadow, and the females becoming beautiful winged creatures similar to the erinyes of Baator, though wrapped in sharps wires and blades, wearing metal masks, never showing their visages.

The Paragon
Those who have encountered the Lost One, as he is called, note he is large in stature, a good 15-feet from head to toe, hunched over with large grey-feathered wings and long claw-like nails. His body is tan with dark stripes, his belly and under his arms and legs being a bluish-grey-green. His chestnut hair hangs long, matted and tangled, and it continues to grow along his spine down to the base.

What he does
With his soul in the hands of his brother, Moriphractiel is left broken and unable to act as he once did in the interests of his followers. Three distinct factions still revere him: Those that revere him as a paragon of emotion, those mortals who hold a portion of his potent blood, and those who believe he is running in order to reveal a universal truth, and that this truth will restore his mind and lead him and his followers to great power and knowledge. No evil may harm him, as he has received the blessing of each of the five angelic paragons he so dearly distrusted, giving him strength, purity of form, courage, and the protection of both the spirits and the gods, preventing Seraphitus from taking anything else from his brother.

The angelic paragons also seek a more permanent cure for Moriphractiel's state, launching crusade after crusade to assail Seraphitus' Alabaster Spires in Kun'Lun, battling their former ally's mighty winged beasts.

He wanders Pangaea, ever performing deeds and actions in the wild plane. Sometimes he builds, forming structures and using his personal resistance to the plane's stone age nature to even build entire towns, only to destroy them and their enhabitants the next day. He tears apart one of the great beasts of Pangaea, only to raise it from the dead within the hour. His urges and desires bubble forth, pure id, only to have no staying power.

His lineage
Though there are many who revere his ancient personage as a patron of emotion and wild abandon, and others seek truth and meaning in his wanderings, the most prominent group to devote themselves to Moriphractiel is his scions, those who carry his bloodline within them as testament to his presense among mortal races in ages past. Besides a common bloodbond between these creatures, no goal or code binds them except not to fight others who have Moriphractiel's bloodline unless absolutely necessary. The scions use as their symbol a bloodstained piece of bone.

Gifts the paragons gave him when they saved him, taken from the class thread

When they discovered him broken in the wilds of Pangaea, the angelic paragons each blessed Moriphractiel to keep him from harm. Peoneir stepped forward first, and brushed a single tear from her eye, placing it on the Lost One’s brow, giving his body a way to heal from any injury.

When Peoneir stepped away from Moriphractiel, the Lady of Ysgard stepped forth, plucking from her head a lock of hair and braiding them into the untamed mane of the Lost One. These hairs lent Moriphractiel untold strength, making it so none could stand opposed to him.

Tresanerva walked away from Moriphractiel, and Agapeial stepped forth. He brought his hand to his eyes, touching them and, whispering a short prayer, touched his hand to Moriphractiel, bestowing upon him sight beyond mortal measure, that all would be laid bare before him.

When Agapeial had given his blessing, Isamukemen placed a small trinket around Moriphractiel’s neck, a necklace from which hung pieces of metal from Isamukemen’s inevitable arm, making the Lost One unshakable in his resolve.

When the other four angelic paragons had each placed their blessing on Moriphractiel, Scarumaiel withdrew the mists of Avalon from Moriphractiel, allowing the Lost One to regain some semblance of his former mind, free from Seraphitus’ machinations.

The Paragon
Seraphitus appears as a small child most often, though he can change his age, mostly always appearing as the same beautiful man in various stages of life. He is always dressed in finery, furs and samite of such exquisite quality that it looks as if he could barely stand. He rarely does though, instead sitting in a gilded throne within his impregnable throne room, his wing resting to either side of his throne lazily and his silver curls kept neatly beneath a platinum circlet. Though he looks non-threatening, his eyes, starry expanses of void, seem to twinkle with malevolence and sadism, his childish smile almost a perverse grin when one looks again.

His Realm and What he does
Seraphitus ever sits in his Alabaster Spires, never leaving his throne at the most reinforced part of the towers, at the heart of a keep so strongly fortified that the sounds of battle outside don't even shake the crystal goblet in his hand. Seraphitus is waited upon hand and foot by his "maidens", while his "beasts" war against the armies of the angelic paragons outside. Sometimes, while falling into a "deep sleep", Seraphitus will send out an astral form in the shape of a great black drake, smashing the armies of good, or destroying temples or libraries, ever lashing out at knowledge to make others weak, so that he might be strong.

His Order
Seraphitus' goals of destroying his foes, especially the other angelic paragons, requires him to sever them from their mortal Orders. To this end, he has also founded an order, called the Order of Oathbreakers, made up of those who had forsaken their oaths and bonds. This order, as well as battling and undermining the angelic orders when possible, destroy libraries and magical repositories in order to lessen the chance that others will learn of his foes. This has brought the order into an alliance with the rakshasa, mythic beasts who perform similar attacks for their own reasons. A mutual bond of fellowship, as much as can be shared by two paranoid and treacherous groups, has been founded between the two, even to the point of an alliance between Seraphitus and the rakshasa god Ravana, his only divine alliance.

[Savannah]

Those two are really, really awesome!

My only suggestion is this:

When Seraphitus finally found his brother, heMoriphractiel was more animal than angel, a furious monster of tooth and claw, bristling wings battered by titanic clashes with the prehistoric denizens of Pangaea, formed covered in literal "vines of doubt", sprouted by the seed planted in his soul long ago by his brother.

It's a really good passage, but as written the antecedent for "he" isn't entirely clear.