The Hexblade Patron certainly has made for an interesting warlock subclass.
It provides a considerable boon to those warlocks who wish to become warriors, though in truth, it also makes warlocks more formidable in general.
My curiosity is with the backstory...
Currently, I am concocting a Rogue Swashbuckler who is musing over a curious whispering dagger, made from cold black metal. Eventually, he WILL take up the dagger to become a Hexblade, but it got me thinking about the reasons one might become a Hexblade.
A Hexblade is apparently associated with the Shadowfell, and specifically the Raven Queen seems to have tossed these weapons all over the place.
But does that have to be it?
I am not opposed to re-flavoring the description to say that the Hexblade is essentially just a sentient weapon.
Critical Role has shown at least two well-known sentient weapons, both apparently dark reflections of two major villains. Both had been entertaining distractions to the main story.
The game, "Pillars of Eternity: Deadfire", introduced a sentient weapon who wasn't evil at all...she just missed her former master, and treated everyone else like dirt until they proved themselves. It was a comedic relationship, and a refreshing change of pace from your typical "evil sword".
A Hexblade does not even have to be a weapon; it may be another object (like a tome!), that simply has a sentient angle to it.
So my question to all of you is:
What sorts of Hexblade backstories have you made, outside the standard Shadowfell patron?
Son of a female knight in Waterdeeep. Skemos’ mother had an affair with a tiefling in disguise, which seduced her and left her stranded bearing a child. Many of the other knights and inhabitants of Waterdeep scowled at her for raising the “misfit” outside wedlock. If not being a female knight was already hard enough, she had to work harder to earn respect after giving birth to a fiendish half-human. Gaining this through hard work and devotion, she also manage to carve a place for her son in the ranks of knights fighting for waterdhavian nobles. Meeting her demise way to early, at the age of 20 the freshly anointed knight started to feel the peer pressure of people thinking him a outsider in a so-called civilized major city. With the current events in the world, being different became harder.
One day false accusations about seductions and murders of innocent citizens made Skamos skip town and go into hiding. He is now tenacious in his efforts of trying to redeem himself. His endeavors has led him into the path of a mercenary to earn for his living. But one day he will return to Waterdeep and clear his name. At this point a greater power called The Raven Queen promised to aid Skamos in reclaiming his honors and standings, in return he would do it in her name and bidding.
While searching for clues and agents of his foes, he fervently hunts sentients undeads and others who cheat faith or death.
Going by Critical Role's example of there being another power behind the actual pact weapon, I find it entirely feasible to allow basically anything to grand the powers to the blade. Sure, it might be a little bit of bending the rules or giving the narrative leeway but the official description of the Hexblade doesn't discourage these kinds of relationships at all.
SInce i played Hexblades in 4th Ed, my stance on the Rp and origins for Hexblades is quite different than in 5e.
In case of my Character his Hexblade powers comes from his Lineage, somewhere many generations ago His Patron is actually a Nazrugon( think a Devil Knight on Nightmare), that had a Lineage with a mortal Champion of his, to make a Lineage of Champiosn fighting for him, before been Sealed by rivals.
Centuries after he's one of the few last descendant of this Lineage( we're 3 in total).
He was adopted and trained in a Knight family and Order, the Knight Order was destroyed through politics and war, and his adoptive family imprisoned for "High treason", so he vowed to take his revenge on those responsible (so he starts as a Vengeance pally), and after that his Hexblade powers starts to awaken when he finds himself in mortal danger, with the Dark blade he can now invoke been the Same as his Devil Ancestor/Patron used, but the Blade is fragmented, missing pieces, wich he has to find to gain power and unlock his abilities tied to it( and the subplot been that once the Blade is complet, then his Patron can regain his Powers and be freed from his Sealed Prison and take his revenge on his Rivals).
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Normality is but an Illusion, Whats normal to the Spider, is only madness for the Fly"
My hexblade warlock is a Aasimar who use to be a paladin of Tyr. One day, the ordre found a family of people who used to be werewolf and the order wanted to only kill them when the full moon was active, not before. Because, it would not have been true justice to kill them when they are in their human forms and they have no control over their transformation.
So, my paladin Suriel, did not agree with the order and kill them when they were humans. It didn't take long the order knew what happen and they wanted to put Suriel on a trial. But the night before his trial, one of his friend came to his room and stab him in the chest. After that, he push him from the balcony from a very high castle to make sure no one found the body.
Just before he falls unconscious, Suriel said '' This is not justice... '' and this is when he found himself into a dark cave. Walking on the pitch black water, he saw a complete black longsword, floating in the air with a beam of light coming from the top of the cavern. He knew at this point, it was the only way to get is revenge or is redemption. So, he took the sword and screamed '' I accept ! ''. Just after he took the sword, he found himself into a complete new continent.
With now many sessions (almost a year now), I have discovered that my patreon who used to talk to me with a female voice and asking me to grab some of her relics in the world is Zariel, the Archduchess of Avernus! So, imagine my surprise when I found who she was and all this before the announcement of the new book in September, The Descent Into Avernus. I just can't wait for this new book and finally meet her to try to redeem her as myself.
I've gone deliberately vague in my Hexblade's backstory. Lets the DM decide how to play the patron side:
Jace lives for a good fight. Whether it's in the streets, the underdark or the glorious arena, he loves a scrap. He practically thirsts for it. For him, the highest glory is to conquer any enemy that might cross his path - by any means necessary.
Jace's career as a pit fighter was long and storied, until he encountered his nemesis: Gurfold the Beast - a dwarf fighter of reasonable skill and zero morals. Blind-sided by the corrupt bookmakers running the fights, Jace was humiliated and broken in front of his adoring fans. It was then that he struck a deal with a nameless entity; a being far beyond the mortal plane willing to grant Jace the ability to regain his status and dominance over his hated rival. Imbued with this enchanted weapon he fought like a man possessed - and overcame the stacked odds to defeat his enemies and win glory in the arena. He spent years a renowned champion - eventually earning his freedom from the fighting pits.
Filled with restlessness, Jace roams the land looking for coin and a good fight wherever he can find it. His price might be a little steep, but few would doubt that his talents are worth paying for. He is still touched by this strange presence, sensing that the otherworldly being may want more from him in the future, but for now the entity is content with Jace's desire for further glory
This is the story of how my Swords Bard, Fiego Laurentis de Gryphon, woke up as a Hexblade:
Ever since the escape from the Underdark, when the far off sounds of silvery hunting horns had led them to safety, Fiego couldn’t get their music out of his head. It had begun to haunt his sleep and on this particular night he woke up to moonlight streaming in the window, solid bars of silver gleaming with motes of dust. The night was quiet, but something about the silence called to the bard like the rests between beats of a song unheard. It was an expectant quiet as if waiting for the cue of an unseen conductor and Fiego’s hands yearned for the touch of an instrument.
He slipped from his bed and almost absent mindedly retrieved his fiddle, strapped his rapier to his hip, and walked out onto the streets of Waterdeep, not even noticing that his feet were bare. Even in the North Ward there were usually at least some guards patrolling through the night, but the streets were conspicuously empty. Fiego wandered, bemused by the moonlight, and found the northern entrance of the city open and unguarded. All the while, he played on his fiddle, working out the elusive notes of the mysterious song they’d heard deep underground.
(It was slow and melancholy, was it not? But phrases had ended with a lift that added a note of ... hope?)
As he kept puzzling it out, he found himself on the northern road toward Amphail, the countryside burnished in the silver of the full moon. As he was playing a particularly tricky passage he stumbled and lost the notes when his sword tangled between his ankles. In annoyance, he unstrapped it from his hip and drove it into the ground, directly in the middle of a crossroads. As the half elf continued to play, his feet found a rhythm of their own, slow and shuffling at first but quickening until he was leaping and spinning in circles around his sword, still playing with an intense focus.
He was finally (finally!) getting the song down when something distracted him and the music came to a stop. In the crossroads balanced en pointe on the hilt of his blade was a (flickering silver flame) beautiful woman. Her skin was dark as night and She wore nothing but Her long silvery flowing hair. She glanced behind herself at Fiego, the movement causing a cascade of shining (fire) hair (water) to fall and expose one perfect ebon shoulder. Her eyes flashed silver at him then died down to embers of deep blue and She raised an elegant hand toward him. She spoke no words, but the gesture was as clear to him as if She’d whispered in his ear …
~ please, continue playing ~
And so he did, picking up the song and the steps where he’d left off. It flowed from him as if he’d always known it, notes like long forgotten memories rising to the surface, an undercurrent to his entire life. It sang of love and of loss, steps leaping with happiness and spinning in spirals of despair. Through it all were silvery notes of hope always hinting at the dawning of a new day. It was the story of life itself, pure elemental vitality distilled into movement, rhythm, and melody. It came to a crescendo, Fiego’s fingers flying over the neck of his fiddle, and ended on a long high note, the bow drawing a keening wail from the instrument that seemed to go on forever without resolving, leaving the ending of the song hanging without resolution, a promise of continuance in the silence of the mind.
Fiego came to himself standing in front of the dark maiden, breath heaving. There was a moment of silence that was broken by Her laugh, a peal of silvery bells. Then She back flipped elegantly to the ground, drawing his blade as She went, and landing in a perfect fencer’s stance. Fiego found himself in that instant (making love) dueling with a partner who was the living embodiment of skill. Armed with nothing but the bow of his fiddle he countered the maiden’s attacks and, though She wielded his own razor sharp rapier, Her hand was so light and quick that She never cut a single horse hair from his instrument. Her swordcraft so far outstripped his that it made him feel like a fumbling virgin to the blade. Her (caresses) slashes moved with an elegance that left him breathless and Her (kisses) thrusts always caught him unguarded, aimed unerringly for his heart.
Though She could have dispatched him in the first exchange, She instead led him through the steps of the sword dance, every parry and riposte leading into the next. She led then followed and followed and led, her knowing smile teaching him more than any master ever had. Their dance took them over fields and through woods until, exhausted, Fiego collapsed by a stream. With a smile, the maiden leaned over him, the fall of her silver hair surrounding him like a veil and blocking out the light of the stars. She whispered in his ear …
Fiego blinked himself awake to late morning sun. He stretched lazily, muscles pulling oddly. Had he been drinking the night before? But no, he didn’t feel the impending pain behind his eyes that usually accompanied those activities, instead he felt .. pleasantly sore? As if ... but his bed was empty save for him and he didn’t remember bringing anyone home. The half elf shrugged, never one to question life’s pleasures too deeply. Yawning, he made his way from his bed, not noticing the mud stains he was leaving from his bare feet.
I asked if Eilistraee could be his Hexblade Patron and my Dm said yes. Later he had my character learn that his actual patron was Eilistraee's sentient Moonblade, but that was fine with me.
For as long as I can remember I have been fascinated by magic. I learned to read much earlier than the other children in my hometown of Corm Orp. By the time I was 13 I knew I wanted to be a wizard. My parents, being supportive of my unusual choice in vocation began to search for a suitable tutor. However, it was difficult to find a wizard who was not affiliated with the Zhentarim of Darkhold.
Nearly a year had passed before a wandering elven sorceress by the name of Vaenyria agreed to take me on as an apprentice. The only catch was that I would have to leave my home and travel far to the North to where she lived. Vaenyria was a moon elf of stunning beauty with long silky black hair and blue eyes that sparkled like the stars. My parents found her to be most charming and were willing, excited even, to have me be her apprentice. She lived in a secluded hut deep within the northern reaches of Neverwinter Wood.
For the first 3 years I was nothing but a house servant. I was tasked with menial chores such as cooking and cleaning, gathering wood for the fire, and collecting water from a nearby stream. It was all so boring! However, there was one task that I enjoyed which was foraging for herbs, flowers, berries, and other plant material for making potions.
Once I had proven myself capable of understanding herbalism Vaenyria finally began to teach me about magic. I was so thrilled and eager to learn all that I could. For a long time, all seemed to go well, at least I thought it did. I thought it strange at first when I was made to learn how to wield a sword and wear armor. I thought wizards didn't wear armor, at least the ones that I had seen back home didn't. I guess it was a Zhentarim thing.
Vaeryria herself did not teach me how to fight, the strange thing was she gave me a magical shortsword that was sentient! The sword called itself Ebonshear. It spoke telepathically to me and it was a hard taskmaster. There were days I was drilled to exhaustion, and I was still expected to complete my daily chores before I could sleep. Between Ebonshear's training and Vaenyria's teachings I began to master spells and other powers. I learned to curse my opponents with magic which felt a little unsettling. It seemed to have an edge of darkness to it. When I questioned my mistress about it she told me not to question her and was quite angry with me for asking. I had never seen her like that before. There was a darkness in her eyes at that time that I found unnerving. For the first time I felt that something was not quite right.
For the next several weeks I continued my training. Ebonshear worked me harder and harder, and Vaenyria seemed to become less and less patient with me. I felt like I could no longer please my teachers no matter how much blood sweat and tears I put into training. It was as if they expected more of me.
On one moon lit night I awoke to the sound of voices. I recognised Vaenyria's voice, but the other voice was otherworldly and menacing. The sound of it sent shivers down my spine. As silently as I could, I sneaked outside towards the voices. Not far from the hut I stopped behind a tree and peered down into a clearing and was horrified by what I saw. Vaenyria was kneeling before a tall dark fey-like man whose head sprouted large antlers. Her eyes were pools of black darkness and shadows seemed to seep from her skin. The man standing before her was slender and muscular. His wicked eyes burned with a green glow, and his head sported a long mane of green leaves that clung between the two great antlers and flowed down behind his spike covered shoulders. Lichen covered his forearms like bracers would a warrior. I had no idea what this creature was, but it was clear to me that he was evil and very powerful.
Once I gathered my wits about me, I realised that they were talking about me! Vaenyria was assuring the fey creature that I would be ready for the sacrifice. What sacrifice!? Surely my mistress didn't put all this time into training me just to have me killed! I listened more intently. I learned that my mistress had captured an apparently important nymph and I was to sacrifice her to being called the Raven Queen. I also learned that the evil fey-man was called Witchthorn.
It all became apparent that I had been trained to be Vaenyria's assassin in the service of this creature called Witchthorn. I would not have it. I knew I must escape and quickly. But what about the nymph? I had to save her. I rushed back inside the hut and quickly grabbed some things and put them in a sack before going to my room and pretended to be asleep.
My mind was racing! I hope I had not been seen or this Witchthorn creature hadn't detected my presence. Then I thought of Ebonshear. It could detect my thoughts! I dare not touch it lest it know my desire to run away. Then the thought of a small hidden cave I knew my mistress used to keep materials and food that required storage in a cool and dry place. I knew from my studies that nymphs grew weak if trapped away from the sun. She must be held captive in there I thought. A plan began to formulate in my head and before long I fell asleep.
In the morning I awoke in time to find my mistress was deep in reverie. I quickly gather the sack I had prepared, and I was about to leave the hut when my eyes gazed upon a pile of spellbooks that belonged to my mistress. Without a thought, I quickly snatched the smallest tome before hurrying out of the hut and into the forest.
The cave was half a mile away and sure enough I found the nymph inside bound tightly to a rock. Vaenyria must have only captured her yesterday for the nymph was still quite healthy if a little weary. I assured her that I was here to rescue her and quickly told her about Vaenyria's plans to sacrifice her to the Raven Queen. I was grateful that she believed me and as payment for rescuing her she guided me through the forest to a magical portal in an oak tree. In an instant we were teleported to the far southern reaches of the Neverwinter Woods.
While we travelled, I told the nymph about what I saw the night before and described the fey-man. When I told her his name she gasped in fear! She told me that he is a verdant prince, a wicked fey of terrible power and ruler of Kryptgarden Forest not far to the south. She told me her name is Summerdew and that she was going to take me to a safe place called New Sharandar, an Eladrin stronghold.
When we arrived, Summerdew and I were taken to the leader of New Sharandar, an elven warrior woman called Marrisara Winterwhite. I told her everything about Vaerynia, Ebonshear, Witchthorn and their plans to have me sacrifice Summerdew to the Raven Queen. When the elven woman learned that I had taken a spellbook and a sack of item she demanded that they be destroyed. She explained that these items would make it easier for my enemies to track me. Reluctantly I handed over the spell book and the sack. I explained that all I wanted was to become a wizard. I had no idea that Vaerynia was evil and served Witchthorn and the Raven Queen.
Over the coming days I learned more about New Sharandar and the elves here. They told me about who the Raven Queen is and the Shadowfell. They shared that Witchthorn was trying to take control of the Neverwinter Wood and the elves and good fey of the woods were the only thing resisting his incursions.
Eventually I was urged to leave New Sharandar and Neverwinter Wood. But, before I did, I was granted as a gift a ten day of tutelage under one of New Sharandar's wizards, replacement gear, and a new soft leather bound spellbook of exquisite craftsmanship. I was guided to the eastern edge of the Neverwinter Wood where I bid farewell to Summerdew and my new friends before making my way to the town of Thundertree. From there I joined a merchant caravan to the city of Neverwinter to find new friends and adventures.
The Hexblade Patron certainly has made for an interesting warlock subclass.
It provides a considerable boon to those warlocks who wish to become warriors, though in truth, it also makes warlocks more formidable in general.
My curiosity is with the backstory...
Currently, I am concocting a Rogue Swashbuckler who is musing over a curious whispering dagger, made from cold black metal. Eventually, he WILL take up the dagger to become a Hexblade, but it got me thinking about the reasons one might become a Hexblade.
A Hexblade is apparently associated with the Shadowfell, and specifically the Raven Queen seems to have tossed these weapons all over the place.
But does that have to be it?
I am not opposed to re-flavoring the description to say that the Hexblade is essentially just a sentient weapon.
Critical Role has shown at least two well-known sentient weapons, both apparently dark reflections of two major villains. Both had been entertaining distractions to the main story.
The game, "Pillars of Eternity: Deadfire", introduced a sentient weapon who wasn't evil at all...she just missed her former master, and treated everyone else like dirt until they proved themselves. It was a comedic relationship, and a refreshing change of pace from your typical "evil sword".
A Hexblade does not even have to be a weapon; it may be another object (like a tome!), that simply has a sentient angle to it.
So my question to all of you is:
What sorts of Hexblade backstories have you made, outside the standard Shadowfell patron?
This is the backstory of my HexBlade:
Going by Critical Role's example of there being another power behind the actual pact weapon, I find it entirely feasible to allow basically anything to grand the powers to the blade. Sure, it might be a little bit of bending the rules or giving the narrative leeway but the official description of the Hexblade doesn't discourage these kinds of relationships at all.
Let chaos rain... uh, reign!
SInce i played Hexblades in 4th Ed, my stance on the Rp and origins for Hexblades is quite different than in 5e.
In case of my Character his Hexblade powers comes from his Lineage, somewhere many generations ago His Patron is actually a Nazrugon( think a Devil Knight on Nightmare), that had a Lineage with a mortal Champion of his, to make a Lineage of Champiosn fighting for him, before been Sealed by rivals.
Centuries after he's one of the few last descendant of this Lineage( we're 3 in total).
He was adopted and trained in a Knight family and Order, the Knight Order was destroyed through politics and war, and his adoptive family imprisoned for "High treason", so he vowed to take his revenge on those responsible (so he starts as a Vengeance pally), and after that his Hexblade powers starts to awaken when he finds himself in mortal danger, with the Dark blade he can now invoke been the Same as his Devil Ancestor/Patron used, but the Blade is fragmented, missing pieces, wich he has to find to gain power and unlock his abilities tied to it( and the subplot been that once the Blade is complet, then his Patron can regain his Powers and be freed from his Sealed Prison and take his revenge on his Rivals).
"Normality is but an Illusion, Whats normal to the Spider, is only madness for the Fly"
Kain de Frostberg- Dark Knight - (Vengeance Pal3/ Hexblade 9), Port Mourn
Kain de Draakberg-Dark Knight lvl8-Avergreen(DitA)
My hexblade warlock is a Aasimar who use to be a paladin of Tyr. One day, the ordre found a family of people who used to be werewolf and the order wanted to only kill them when the full moon was active, not before. Because, it would not have been true justice to kill them when they are in their human forms and they have no control over their transformation.
So, my paladin Suriel, did not agree with the order and kill them when they were humans. It didn't take long the order knew what happen and they wanted to put Suriel on a trial. But the night before his trial, one of his friend came to his room and stab him in the chest. After that, he push him from the balcony from a very high castle to make sure no one found the body.
Just before he falls unconscious, Suriel said '' This is not justice... '' and this is when he found himself into a dark cave. Walking on the pitch black water, he saw a complete black longsword, floating in the air with a beam of light coming from the top of the cavern. He knew at this point, it was the only way to get is revenge or is redemption. So, he took the sword and screamed '' I accept ! ''. Just after he took the sword, he found himself into a complete new continent.
With now many sessions (almost a year now), I have discovered that my patreon who used to talk to me with a female voice and asking me to grab some of her relics in the world is Zariel, the Archduchess of Avernus! So, imagine my surprise when I found who she was and all this before the announcement of the new book in September, The Descent Into Avernus. I just can't wait for this new book and finally meet her to try to redeem her as myself.
I've gone deliberately vague in my Hexblade's backstory. Lets the DM decide how to play the patron side:
Jace lives for a good fight. Whether it's in the streets, the underdark or the glorious arena, he loves a scrap. He practically thirsts for it. For him, the highest glory is to conquer any enemy that might cross his path - by any means necessary.
Jace's career as a pit fighter was long and storied, until he encountered his nemesis: Gurfold the Beast - a dwarf fighter of reasonable skill and zero morals. Blind-sided by the corrupt bookmakers running the fights, Jace was humiliated and broken in front of his adoring fans. It was then that he struck a deal with a nameless entity; a being far beyond the mortal plane willing to grant Jace the ability to regain his status and dominance over his hated rival. Imbued with this enchanted weapon he fought like a man possessed - and overcame the stacked odds to defeat his enemies and win glory in the arena. He spent years a renowned champion - eventually earning his freedom from the fighting pits.
Filled with restlessness, Jace roams the land looking for coin and a good fight wherever he can find it. His price might be a little steep, but few would doubt that his talents are worth paying for. He is still touched by this strange presence, sensing that the otherworldly being may want more from him in the future, but for now the entity is content with Jace's desire for further glory
This is the story of how my Swords Bard, Fiego Laurentis de Gryphon, woke up as a Hexblade:
I asked if Eilistraee could be his Hexblade Patron and my Dm said yes. Later he had my character learn that his actual patron was Eilistraee's sentient Moonblade, but that was fine with me.
Canto alla vita
alla sua bellezza
ad ogni sua ferita
ogni sua carezza!
I sing to life and to its tragic beauty
To pain and to strife, but all that dances through me
The rise and the fall, I've lived through it all!
The story of Trix Wildheart, the halfling hexblade who would be a wizard (https://ddb.ac/characters/63204295/SdJM5B)
For as long as I can remember I have been fascinated by magic. I learned to read much earlier than the other children in my hometown of Corm Orp. By the time I was 13 I knew I wanted to be a wizard. My parents, being supportive of my unusual choice in vocation began to search for a suitable tutor. However, it was difficult to find a wizard who was not affiliated with the Zhentarim of Darkhold.
Nearly a year had passed before a wandering elven sorceress by the name of Vaenyria agreed to take me on as an apprentice. The only catch was that I would have to leave my home and travel far to the North to where she lived. Vaenyria was a moon elf of stunning beauty with long silky black hair and blue eyes that sparkled like the stars. My parents found her to be most charming and were willing, excited even, to have me be her apprentice. She lived in a secluded hut deep within the northern reaches of Neverwinter Wood.
For the first 3 years I was nothing but a house servant. I was tasked with menial chores such as cooking and cleaning, gathering wood for the fire, and collecting water from a nearby stream. It was all so boring! However, there was one task that I enjoyed which was foraging for herbs, flowers, berries, and other plant material for making potions.
Once I had proven myself capable of understanding herbalism Vaenyria finally began to teach me about magic. I was so thrilled and eager to learn all that I could. For a long time, all seemed to go well, at least I thought it did. I thought it strange at first when I was made to learn how to wield a sword and wear armor. I thought wizards didn't wear armor, at least the ones that I had seen back home didn't. I guess it was a Zhentarim thing.
Vaeryria herself did not teach me how to fight, the strange thing was she gave me a magical shortsword that was sentient! The sword called itself Ebonshear. It spoke telepathically to me and it was a hard taskmaster. There were days I was drilled to exhaustion, and I was still expected to complete my daily chores before I could sleep. Between Ebonshear's training and Vaenyria's teachings I began to master spells and other powers. I learned to curse my opponents with magic which felt a little unsettling. It seemed to have an edge of darkness to it. When I questioned my mistress about it she told me not to question her and was quite angry with me for asking. I had never seen her like that before. There was a darkness in her eyes at that time that I found unnerving. For the first time I felt that something was not quite right.
For the next several weeks I continued my training. Ebonshear worked me harder and harder, and Vaenyria seemed to become less and less patient with me. I felt like I could no longer please my teachers no matter how much blood sweat and tears I put into training. It was as if they expected more of me.
On one moon lit night I awoke to the sound of voices. I recognised Vaenyria's voice, but the other voice was otherworldly and menacing. The sound of it sent shivers down my spine. As silently as I could, I sneaked outside towards the voices. Not far from the hut I stopped behind a tree and peered down into a clearing and was horrified by what I saw. Vaenyria was kneeling before a tall dark fey-like man whose head sprouted large antlers. Her eyes were pools of black darkness and shadows seemed to seep from her skin. The man standing before her was slender and muscular. His wicked eyes burned with a green glow, and his head sported a long mane of green leaves that clung between the two great antlers and flowed down behind his spike covered shoulders. Lichen covered his forearms like bracers would a warrior. I had no idea what this creature was, but it was clear to me that he was evil and very powerful.
Once I gathered my wits about me, I realised that they were talking about me! Vaenyria was assuring the fey creature that I would be ready for the sacrifice. What sacrifice!? Surely my mistress didn't put all this time into training me just to have me killed! I listened more intently. I learned that my mistress had captured an apparently important nymph and I was to sacrifice her to being called the Raven Queen. I also learned that the evil fey-man was called Witchthorn.
It all became apparent that I had been trained to be Vaenyria's assassin in the service of this creature called Witchthorn. I would not have it. I knew I must escape and quickly. But what about the nymph? I had to save her. I rushed back inside the hut and quickly grabbed some things and put them in a sack before going to my room and pretended to be asleep.
My mind was racing! I hope I had not been seen or this Witchthorn creature hadn't detected my presence. Then I thought of Ebonshear. It could detect my thoughts! I dare not touch it lest it know my desire to run away. Then the thought of a small hidden cave I knew my mistress used to keep materials and food that required storage in a cool and dry place. I knew from my studies that nymphs grew weak if trapped away from the sun. She must be held captive in there I thought. A plan began to formulate in my head and before long I fell asleep.
In the morning I awoke in time to find my mistress was deep in reverie. I quickly gather the sack I had prepared, and I was about to leave the hut when my eyes gazed upon a pile of spellbooks that belonged to my mistress. Without a thought, I quickly snatched the smallest tome before hurrying out of the hut and into the forest.
The cave was half a mile away and sure enough I found the nymph inside bound tightly to a rock. Vaenyria must have only captured her yesterday for the nymph was still quite healthy if a little weary. I assured her that I was here to rescue her and quickly told her about Vaenyria's plans to sacrifice her to the Raven Queen. I was grateful that she believed me and as payment for rescuing her she guided me through the forest to a magical portal in an oak tree. In an instant we were teleported to the far southern reaches of the Neverwinter Woods.
While we travelled, I told the nymph about what I saw the night before and described the fey-man. When I told her his name she gasped in fear! She told me that he is a verdant prince, a wicked fey of terrible power and ruler of Kryptgarden Forest not far to the south. She told me her name is Summerdew and that she was going to take me to a safe place called New Sharandar, an Eladrin stronghold.
When we arrived, Summerdew and I were taken to the leader of New Sharandar, an elven warrior woman called Marrisara Winterwhite. I told her everything about Vaerynia, Ebonshear, Witchthorn and their plans to have me sacrifice Summerdew to the Raven Queen. When the elven woman learned that I had taken a spellbook and a sack of item she demanded that they be destroyed. She explained that these items would make it easier for my enemies to track me. Reluctantly I handed over the spell book and the sack. I explained that all I wanted was to become a wizard. I had no idea that Vaerynia was evil and served Witchthorn and the Raven Queen.
Over the coming days I learned more about New Sharandar and the elves here. They told me about who the Raven Queen is and the Shadowfell. They shared that Witchthorn was trying to take control of the Neverwinter Wood and the elves and good fey of the woods were the only thing resisting his incursions.
Eventually I was urged to leave New Sharandar and Neverwinter Wood. But, before I did, I was granted as a gift a ten day of tutelage under one of New Sharandar's wizards, replacement gear, and a new soft leather bound spellbook of exquisite craftsmanship. I was guided to the eastern edge of the Neverwinter Wood where I bid farewell to Summerdew and my new friends before making my way to the town of Thundertree. From there I joined a merchant caravan to the city of Neverwinter to find new friends and adventures.