You were not born — you were built. Forged in the cold laboratories of Aeor, you were designed to be a living weapon, an experiment in combining mortal flesh with unstable arcane engines. Your first memories are of containment runes and the voices of researchers debating whether you were a success or a failure.
When Aeor fell, you should have been destroyed along with it. Yet somehow, you endured — buried in ice, locked in stasis, or left wandering with fractured programming until the present day. Now, you awaken in a world that has moved on without you. Scholars whisper of Aeor in hushed tones, governments covet its secrets, and cults still seek to reclaim its legacy.
To them, you are not a person. You are an artifact, a relic of a time when magic itself was weaponized. But you walk, you think, and you choose — and in those choices lies the answer to the question that haunts you: Am I truly alive, or just a weapon pretending to be?
- Skill Proficiencies: Choose two from among Arcana, Intimidation, Perception, or Survival
- Tool Proficiencies: Tool Proficiencies: One type of artisan’s tools (often tinker's tools, to maintain your own body)
- Languages: Languages: One of your choice (perhaps an ancient Aeorian dialect or coded “lab-speak”)
- Equipment: Equipment: A token of your creation (a broken control rune, a shard of containment glass, or an Aeorian designation tag), a set of traveler’s clothes, and a small notebook you use to record flashes of memory or programming
Prior to becoming an adventurer, your path in life was defined by one dark moment, one fateful decision, or one tragedy. Now you feel a darkness threatening to consume you, and you fear there may be no hope of escape. Choose a harrowing event that haunts you, or roll one on the Harrowing Events table.
| d10 | Harrowing Event |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Awakening: You opened your eyes to find Aeor burning around you — the only thing you recall is the city falling from the sky. |
| 2 | The First Test: You were ordered to destroy a target, and you obeyed without hesitation. Only later did you realize it wasn’t a training dummy. |
| 3 | The Escape: You broke free of your containment during Aeor’s fall and wandered the frozen wastes, hunted as an escaped weapon. |
| 4 | The Failure: You were declared a defective experiment and left to die, discarded like broken machinery. Somehow, you endured. |
| 5 | The Overload: Your core went unstable in testing, killing everyone in the chamber except you. The screams still echo inside you. |
| 6 | The Whisper: Even in stasis, a voice spoke to you in the dark — patient, guiding, promising you power. You’ve never been alone since. |
| 7 | The Betrayal: You remember your handler’s face as they tried to shut you down. You killed them before they finished. |
| 8 | The Slaughter: You were unleashed against living test subjects — innocents who screamed and begged as you carried out your orders. |
| 9 | The Hunger: You were designed to absorb something unnatural — magic, memories, or even life-force. The need never truly left you. |
| 10 | The Key: Your creation was not for war, but for unlocking something Aeor feared. You don’t know what it is, but you feel it calling. |
You are not just a person — you are a relic of a fallen age. Scholars, arcanists, and cultists who encounter you can instantly sense the wrongness or power etched into your very being. Most ordinary folk instinctively recoil or regard you with awe.
When you reveal your nature, you can secure shelter, protection, or study from those obsessed with Aeor’s legacy (scholars, mages, or cults). However, this “hospitality” often comes with the risk of being treated less like a guest and more like a specimen.
Suggested Characteristics
Your body is not entirely your own. Veins faintly glow with arcane circuitry, and when you draw upon your power, etched runes flare across your skin like living machinery. Your movements are precise, almost mechanical, and your eyes carry the cold focus of something built for war rather than born for life. Ordinary folk instinctively recoil from you, sensing the wrongness of Aeor’s touch. Whether you hide your markings beneath armor or wear them openly, you are a reminder that some weapons were never meant to walk free.
The Prototype struggles with identity. Are you a person, or a weapon pretending to be one? Your flaws and ideals often reflect the tension between your programming and your will.
| d8 | Personality Trait |
|---|---|
| 1 | I refer to myself by designation (e.g., “Subject 7”) rather than a name. |
| 2 | I study people the way one might study an enemy or specimen. |
| 3 | I don’t understand jokes or emotions well, but I try to mimic them. |
| 4 | When threatened, I default to combat stances without thinking. |
| 5 | I am fascinated by mundane human things: food, sleep, weather. |
| 6 | I sometimes hear phantom “commands” that no one else can hear. |
| 7 | My body feels alien to me, as if it belongs to someone else. |
| 8 | I measure my worth by my combat effectiveness. |
| d6 | Ideal |
|---|---|
| 1 | Purpose. A weapon without a mission is a broken blade. I must find a cause. (Lawful) |
| 2 | Perfection. Aeor failed. I will not. (Lawful/Neutral) |
| 3 | Freedom. I was made to obey, so I will defy. (Chaotic) |
| 4 | Curiosity. I need to know why Aeor fell — and what that means for me. (Neutral) |
| 5 | Power. If I am a weapon, then let me be the sharpest one. (Evil) |
| 6 | Redemption. I will not be remembered as another Aeorian mistake. (Good) |
| d6 | Bond |
|---|---|
| 1 | I carry the fragment of an Aeorian rune core — it hums when danger is near. |
| 2 | I owe my existence to the one who unearthed me from the ice. |
| 3 | Somewhere out there, other prototypes like me still exist. I must find them. |
| 4 | My “patron” is not just a master — it is the only voice that has ever told me who I am. |
| 5 | I will rebuild Aeor… or burn every trace of it. |
| 6 | My memories are broken, but I know one thing: I was meant to destroy. |
| d6 | Flaw |
|---|---|
| 1 | I see myself as property, not a person. |
| 2 | I struggle to distinguish orders from suggestions. |
| 3 | My first instinct is always violence. |
| 4 | I secretly long to return to containment — life is too confusing. |
| 5 | I don’t trust my own emotions; they feel like programming. |
| 6 | I measure everyone’s worth by their usefulness. |
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