Xanthippe (Act I)
Template:Xanthippe nav Coming from the west to the Rogue's Pass, the land slopes almost imperceptibly upwards to the base of a range of high mountains. A typical alluvial flood plain, most of Khanduras is well-watered and fertile, the breadbasket of the western world, with many small farming towns along the rivers that wash down from the mountains. The people are simple and good, living and working among gentle rolling hills and lightly wooded dales. This is the last place you'd expect a demonic invasion to begin. The Zann Esu oracles had decreed that the Emergence of the Three Prime Evils was at hand. But you didn't need to be psychic to know that the Rogue's Pass was closed, nothing was going up the mountains, and there were wild and frightening rumors of what was coming down, so it was time to act.
Among the Zann Esu, Xanthippe was never the best student. It's hard to be a good student when you're smarter than your teachers, only the little goody-goodies get the praise of the witch mistresses. When the oracles said it was time, she was sent to the Rogue's Pass, probably just to get rid of her. At the entrance to the pass, a rude little fortress had been hastily cadged together from timber and rope; it smelled like cattle and chickens, not blood and guts, so there must be living people there.
The camp was full of Rogues, the women archers who had built a fortified monastery across the pass, and made huge amounts of money charging merchants and travelers for the privilege of going through. You don't need to produce a thing to become rich, all you need is position. A well-heeled gentleman greeted Xanthippe, welcoming her to the camp, and was kind enough to explain his position. Demons had taken over the monastery, and corrupted many of the Rogues. The pass and the monastery were full of monsters, and no one could get through, including this fellow's caravan of merchants.
Heaven forbid that the wheels of commerce might not be allowed to run smoothly. For the sake of rich people everywhere, this evil must be stopped. The poor people were probably all dead, but they never really matter anyway. Before sallying forth, Xanthippe decided to have a look around camp, and see what paragons of humanity she'd be risking her life to save from the perils of an economically disadvantageous position. There was a tall, strapping redhead in scale armor; she looked pretty full of herself. The High Priestess of the Rogues was weeping beside a small tent. The blondest girl she'd ever seen, with bigger arms than any girl should have, was beating out arrowheads on an anvil. And then there was the caravan's other merchant. Xanthippe recognized him, though she was sure he wouldn't know her. Goody, she thought. This might be fun.