Protector of "Peace" and "Justice"


Pavel Shemov
AC 21
HP 60
Perception 12
Insight 12
Knowledge Skills: None
Languages: Common, Elven

Character Sheet

Pavel’s Research


There’s nothing I enjoy more than long walks on the beach. Some of my other hobbies include watching the sunset from a picturesque grassy knoll, indulging in fine wine with a scrumptious foie gras dinner, and candlelight conversations on our great lord Asmodeus.

As a young lad Peval had a somewhat questionable relation with the law. Breaking and entering, followed breaking and taking was his style. Considering that his only role model being a father that would routinely finish his first bottle before noon, it was only natural to take up this sort of lifestyle if he were to get by. Being fairly large for his age certainly made things easier, but it would also cost him greatly in the end.

On one particular outing, overestimating his “stealthiness” and speed, Peval was caught by the local police and subsequently charged for his crimes. His options weren’t many: pay a large fine, removal of unnecessary limbs for failing to pay said fine, or working off the fine by joining the military. Not entirely overjoyed…but then not entirely unhappy…Peval joined the military to pay off his debts to the government, and so his adventures began.

Peval’s early days showed his inexperience in actual fighting, but he learned quickly. Soon, he found it strangely enjoyable to go into battle: he looted what he could in secret, skipping camp for the nearest tavern whenever the opportunity arose. His only regret being the standard issue weapons and armor…why did it have to be a sword? Swords are “too good” at what they do: one swing and your opponent is dead, Peval wanted to savor the experience. It’s thoughts like these that first made him think that maybe he should join the police if…when…he got out of this.

The last day of his stay at the army came as a surprise…for him and his troop at least. They were off to take down a group of unlicensed bandits. They outnumbered the bandits ten to one, were better equipped, and undoubtedly had more experience as fighters than a group like that ever would. Coming up on the group, it was obvious that some of the info was a bit off: sure, it was a small group…but around half of their members had armor that looked to be of the highest quality, polished to the point that it could reflect the sunlight into your eyes as if it were a mirror…and, coming closer now, emblazoned with the sigil of Asmodeus. These were clearly paladins of Asmodeus. Peval had heard of them before, but surely they were no match for his troop, outnumbered as they were. His commanders were surprisingly unsurprised by the matter, although clearly more uneasy than he’d ever seen them. Why? The orders were given to charge in.

Several hours later, Peval awoke to silence, he had been knocked out with a hard blow to the head by one of their shields. Everyone was dead, or at least everyone that he could see. As he walked around the corpses Peval heard a sound, the raspy breathing of a dying man. It was a paladin, with his sword driven into the chest of the troop’s leader, clutching a similar wound of his own. “Hah! It seems that Asmodeus has smiled upon you, boy!” Peval paid him no mind, grabbing a nearby sword to finish the job, then thrusting at his enemy’s throat. In a flash he was disarmed, with a sword upon his throat in turn. “I meant what I said. I’ll be dead within the hour, but don’t think that the likes of you can put a scratch on me. Go east until you reach the border, then seek the audience of someone that can train you in our ways. You have what it takes, I’m sure of it.” Peval, amazed at the man’s tenacity, came upon a sudden realization: everyone he knows is dead. Who is to say that he didn’t die on this battlefield as well? Maybe this was his calling, since he himself certainly had no future here… Looking into the dying man’s eyes, he nodded and slowly backed away, turning to walk away into the east. As he neared the edge of the battlefield he rummaged throughout the belongings of one of the fallen soldiers. He took his money, sword, and most importantly his papers. “Pavel”, huh…what a coincidence.


A Pesky Propaganda andrey_gueorguiev