I've got Meiq'arim, Half-Elf Warlock of the Undying (currently level 3). Was a street urchin after the death of their mother, got involved in a street brawl and took a harsh knife to the gut, bleeding out in a back alley when "the voice" offered them a chance to live in return for a promise. They didn't want to die having seen so little of the world, so they agreed, and woke from a blackout with their hair bleaching at the root, and their eyes bleaching from the pupil outwards. The wound was healed, and the scar was unnaturally dark. A mark.
The problem was, Meiq'arim actually wasn't supposed to die anyways; a local healer would've found them before they bled out and saved their life. Seems Death's bureaucracy runs on a skeleton crew (hah), and a minor-level management member was desperate for some help, so she pounced on the closest soul in peril for a quick deal. If the Records of the Dead become lost or disorganized, new souls might end up in the wrong place, and souls might slip back across the veil undetected, willingly or not. And that wouldn't do. So she made a rushed deal, with lighter terms than might normally be set in such a pact. (Originally inspired by the "unexpected situation" in Yu Yu Hakusho's early arc.)
So now, Meiq'arim roams across the world and other planes (the current adventure jumped out from Sigil, City of Doors) to see the sights and feel the rush of adventure, but every now and then, the tolling of a bell signals their disappearance back to the land of the dead for paperwork. Every "day" spent down there, one more hair turns white down to the tip, and once every hair has been paid, their end of the bargain is upheld. Serving the forces of Death and the Raven Queen in the living world are also on the table, and serve double duty; granting Meiq'arim chances to speed up their payment, and letting them explore. With their faithful sprite familiar Mushroom flitting about, there's so much they want to see, now that they have the time.
L'FalceNera, Svirfneblin, The Fiend (worshipper of Samael), Pact of the Tome/Book of Ancient Secrets,
Probably the only survivor of the island of Yormm. The island was destroyed by a massive volcanic eruption. The island was found to be devastated after returning from a pilgrimage to the Sacred Lake of Arimabi. Searches the planes for other survivors.
Samael, better known as the Grim Reaper, is a fallen angel. He is the chief seducer, accuser, and destroyer. Samael is also called the chief of the Dragons of Evil and Prince of Darkness. Samael is both kind and cruel and was once a heavenly host. He lorded over ‘Sheba Ha-yechaloth’, or the seven habitations. His sphere of influence extends to the infernal realm as well.
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Cedo nulli, Calcanda semel via leti. Parvi sed magni.
Captain Geldar the mountin dwarf was on patrol in the deep places in the world. After an ambush left him the sole survivor he made a pact whit the great old one. He now have the pact of the blade and do his best to do his masters will. So far he have let his sorcerer companion pick up corrupted items, slowly turning the neutral good character to be more and more evil. He also made a bet agianst a dwarf gladiator and have more gold then he know what to do whit. The other players know that I’m a warlock, but not thier characters. Somthing the Sorcerer have a hard time whit. Each time they ask in game i simply say I’m a wizard. When they follow up whit questions on why i then have half plate armor and a two handed sword, i wink and say I’m not a good wizard. This frustrates the sorcerers player. The rest of the party is a bard that have been able to marry a peasant girl and a cleric that started as a warforge but thrue a wish to be ”a real boy”, turned to a clearic version of Danny Devito. And yes he is shorter then the dwarf whit 2 inches. Each time we try to step out of the dms plans we are faced whit an army. We have beaten back 2 armies so far. One Dragonborn and one undead. The DM have also tried to kill us. It have not worked that well. Last time we at level 6 faced of agianst a mummy lord. We just beat him. Gendar have picked up tricks to be an ok assassin. Ring of water walking, slippers of wall walking, being able to be invisible in darkness. The plan at the moment is to hunt down the last Dragonborn army that’s on the lose in the kingdome, or warn the army or somthing. O and keep corrupting my fellow players. If you wonder about how much gold, let me just say that i have started to look on how much it would cost to buy a castle or a keep. Do you have any good ideas on what to spend money on?
My lovely new gal, bracing up for her first exploratory game next week: * * *
Nytra Xyroxi Helnoa Ufeli Bitterclear, a.k.a. 'Foxtail', 'Trickpaws', 'Goddamnit you get outta here! DX'
Nytra Xyroxi Helnoa Ufeli Bitterclear (hereafter 'Nytra' for short) is an enigma. Her father, Quijin (Many Gnomish Gnames) Bitterclear, an apothecary working in the town of Hupperdook in the Dwendalian Empire, discovered Nytra and her brother Kharl yowling in the woods, abandoned as babes. Though roughly the size and shape of a gnomish infant, the two had fuzzy, down-covered paws instead of legs and feet, their ears were perched atop their heads, and each had a sadly bedraggled tail trailing behind them. Despite their abnormalities, Quijin couldn't bear to leave the kits sitting there yowling in the woods. He took them in and decided they were his now.
The poor man never quite knew what hit him.
As they grew, Nytra and Kharl proved quick of wit, cheerful of disposition, and mischievous to a fault. Everyone in their neighborhood knew to watch for flashes of red-brown fur, and many learned to check for harmless but vexatious 'traps' as a matter of daily course. The two were thick as thieves, the ringleaders of a little circle of minxish, trouble-prone children that were the absolute bane of the adults in their neighborhood. Sadly, this included the influential business leader and town councilman Eldrod Brasstack, who had long since made his scornful disapproval of Quijin's apothecary public knowledge over an old, oft-embellished slight. Nytra hated the grouchy old councilman, who made sure to slight Quijin's store some way or another at least once a month...but she could do little about it. At least, for now.
As much as Nytra enjoyed being a mischievous tease, nobody in Hupperdook got a free lunch. When they were old enough, she and Kharl were sent into the woods surrounding the town to search for medicinal herbs during the day while Quijin worked, helping their father out. One day, while out doing just that after a week's heavy rains, the two found a small cave entrance, almost impossible to spot had its entrance not been washed out by the rain. They decided to go exploring, spending an hour or two excitedly exploring the space, only to find an old, worn oil lamp hidden away behind a rockfall. When they pulled the lamp free and opened it, the two kits received the fright of their life when a Djinni burst free of the lamp in an explosion of ethereal smoke. The Djinni, who introduced himself as Dhuzzi the Extravagant, thanked the younglings for freeing him from a most infuriating trap, offering them sweet candies and a delightful show of magic as a reward...as well as one single Wish, to be shared between them. Nytra, in her overwhelming excitement, spoke before her brother could interject, saying
"I wish we get to grow up into awesome adventurers, just like in the stories!"
Dhuzzi laughed, smirked, and spoke the words "Wish...granted" before vanishing in another burst of smoke. Nytra turned in delight to her brother...who proceeded to attack her, beating Nytra within an inch of her fluffy hide, screaming at her. "Why didn't you wish to know where we came from?!"
Ever since that day, the once inseparable bond between the siblings was strained. For three more years they grew, carrying out their duties and chores for Quijin, but Kharl's relationship with his sister never recovered. He grew distant, moody and preoccupied, throwing himself into historical studies, and he rarely had time for his sister's games anymore. One night...he simply vanished. He packed what he cared to take, left a brief not for Quijin explaining to his father that he couldn't stand not knowing anymore, and walked out in the night. For Nytra, he left not a single word. He never even wrote her name in the single letter he left for their adoptive father.
Two years after that, a subdued - but not too subdued - Nytra was plotting fresh hijinks in the alleyways near the marketplace when a voice said to her "so about that Wish to become an awesome adventurer!" For the second time in her life, Nytra startled right out of her fur as Dhuzzi the Extravagant appeared before her, grinning wide, and told her it was time to make good on her wish. He granted her a mote of power, grown for all the five years since they'd freed him and only now harvested, and spent the day teaching her a slew of delightful new tricks. Spells and powers beyond anything anyone in Hupperdook could boast of...or protect themselves against.
The next day, after Eldrod Brasstack discovered over a dozen pairs of his finest silk pantaloons fluttering from the lampposts of the city scrawled with lewd messages, he set up a tremendous hue and cry. Crownsguard and local militia both were mobilized to find "that rotten little unnatural wretch!" and bring her to him for a million years of imprisonment. Quijin, hearing this, simply handed Nytra a small pack of belongings and told her "Probably best if you take a vacation for a little while, Foxtail. Go on. Bring me souvenirs."
And so she did. With a quickness, and rather carefully until she was clear of the limits of Hupperdook. It was bittersweet - the best prank she'd ever pulled, but one that had cost Nytra her home. She'd come back eventually, once she was powerful enough not to care what Eldrod 'Cork Screwer' Brasstack did...but until then?
She'd wished to be an Adventurer. Dhuzzi had given her awesome cool magic to go and Adventure with. And Nytra has absolutely no intention of wasting the gift.
Nym Filifar, Drow Warlock serving Psilofyr, The Carrion King God of the Myconids.
Nym was an average member of her community growing up, however, as she became an adult, she left the sprawling Drow City, and its underhanded backstabbing, for a simpler life, 'Forestry', or as close as you call someone harvesting Giant Mushrooms, and repelling into the depths of the Underdark. On one such dives, she encountered a horde of Myconids, seeing her as a potential threat, due to the Drow's history of enslaving their kind, they quickly overwhelmed her, and she cried out for help.
A Voice responded, the voice of what would become Nym's New Master, Psilofyr. While grateful for being saved, she was obviously wasnt thrilled being held as a servant to her Master, being sent as an agent against his Rogue personalities, aided only by the arcane magic her master allows her, and a small Sprite, bound by the chain.
There was one bit of respite, however bitter, her master gave her one way she could escape from their pact, Killing the Spider Queen, Lolth, the Goddess of her people.
Now, crossing the lands, in search of other pockets of Underdark, and other Rogue personalities, Nym hides her power, using some of the fey magic she has been granted, as she enters a town which is being used as a checkpoint for refugees.
Mechanics: 6th level. 2 Hexblade, 4 Dragon Blood Sorcerer. He will only ever take 4 levels in sorcerer. He primarily wants to take quicken spell to double his Eldritch blasts. He will progress as a Hexblade/Pact of the chain hereafter.
Do others know they're a warlock, or do they keep it close to the chest? Vandal depends on his armor and blade to deflect most questions. But he will admit to being a warlock if asked.
Two hundred years ago, under the cover of darkness, Nev Van’shir, an ancient vampire and servant to Strahd Von Zarovich, murdered thirty Paladins devoted to Eldath. Nev Van’shir used a weapon called Bloodthirst which was directly connected to Strahd Von Zarovich. The sentient blade was designed to feed it’s master. Whether it landed the killing blow or merely drew blood, it fed the life energies into the master vampire, strengthening the very land of Barovia itself.
Knowing that Nev Van’shir would be attacking the next town – the Paladins of Eldath prepared themselves and ambushed Nev Van’shir. Gravely wounded, the vampire was forced to flee. However, in his attempt to escape, Bloodthirst fell into the darkness of the night - lost forever. The blade without a master sought desperately to fulfill its purpose.
Vandal was born into the Waterdhavian noble house of Whiteraven. Vandal grew up with all of the benefits of wealth, including good schooling, and a stable home. He was however a prodigal, squandering everything in orgy of self-indulgence.
Ashamed by his behavior his father confronted him. “You soil our name the way you soil your trousers, you drunkard fool. Your behavior has wrought shame to our family name.” “What good is wealth if one does not enjoy it?” Vandal asked, taking another deep drink from the bottle in his hand. “If we die without spending that which we have who will take it? It is better to live a life of fulfilment.” “This,” his father gestured, “is not fulfilment. This is how a commoner’s pig would live. And you will not live like this any longer. Not here.” “What are you going to do? Cast me out? Your only son?” Vandal chuckled drunkenly.
Vandal next found himself standing outside the manor’s gate with no way back in. The true tragedy of the moment struck him: he would need to get… a job.
Too many knew the Whiteravens, and thus, Vandal’s reputation. Changing his last name to Morn, he left Waterdeep for a small nearby town. He lived well by selling his jewelry. But more often than not, he fell back into his ways of debauchery and squandered even what little wealth that brought him.
Unable to afford the protection of a caravan, Vandal was forced to walk to yet another town. The road was lonely, the trees cast dark foreboding shadows. He saw an approaching group of people which he had mistook as gnomes initially, but as he drew closer, he realized it was a band of goblins! His heart sank as he realized he had sold off his last dagger.
He dove into the bushes just off the road and held his breath. As the goblins approached, one of them paused. “Somethin’ been here,” it growled as it pointed at the road. “Fresh tracks.” Vandal knew that they would find him. Like a rabbit he dashed deeper into the woods, the goblins immediately pursued. He could hear their gleeful cheering mixed with hoots and callings. He ran for seemingly forever, the goblins showed no signs of tiring, Vandal stumbled into a graveyard (Here in the wilderness?)– a misty maze of ancient tombstones. Aside from the thundering beat of his heart, the world was silent as if it held its breath.
With no other choice, he bolted across as quickly as he could, and fell directly into a freshly dug grave. Frantically he tried to climb out. If the goblins found him, it would be like spearing fish in a barrel. The wet soil prevented him from getting a solid hold. Vandal sunk to the ground realizing he would die like a pig in mud, just as his father had predicted. He watched from the pit as the sun passed over, then the moon, then the sun again. He noticed, because there was nothing else to do, that the entire day and night, not a single sound could be heard – no birds, deer, owls – nothing.
Believing he was safe, Vandal tried to climb again, and this time as he tried to stand, his hand touched something that sent a spark of energy through his body. Looking down and saw the hilt of a blade protruding from the mud. He pulled it out – and for a brief moment – had a vision of a pale being, bathed in blood, slaying armored men.
Vandal tried to drop it – but something refused to let him go. The jet-black sword seemed to have a crackling energy about it. “Take me,” he heard the voice in his head as the blade shimmered, “and you will never be afraid again. Kill for me, let me drink the blood of those who stand against you.” The voice was soothing and calming, despite the tone of the message. “Take me up, and I will make YOU a devastating weapon!” Vandal took the weapon, and it melded into his arm, leaving only the tattoo of a black sword.
Feeling a surge of power, Vandal leapt from the grave. Fearlessly, he entered the forest, where he heard the unmistakable chatter of goblins. Purple energies erupted from his hands. Six squealing goblins quenched the blades thirst. There was no blood left in them, not a drop, just a look of horror.
Vandal stepped onto the path. He felt like a man for the first time. He wasn’t a servant; he was a weapon. He liked that. Vandal was no longer a rake, a drunk, or a loser. Vandal was going to be a hero. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pact: Vandal made a deal with Bloodthirst, a weapon designed to strengthen Strahd and his realm. With every death (he need not cast the killing blow), blood and energy flow into the land of Barovia. Not a drop of blood will even stain the clothing of his victims. BUT. Anyone struck by either ray, spell, or sword will die with a look of horror.
Vandal is not required to commit murder. An adventurer’s life provides enough blood to suffice. Vandal is not aware he ultimately serves Strahd, just a nameless sword. Strahd is aware of the energy he receives but not who wields it (indeed there are several feeding Barovia this way). Bloodthirst is simply fulfilling its purpose: to feed Strahd. Finally, Strahd cannot issue orders through the sword. Vandal is under no compulsion to obey Strahd, even if they should meet. The undead and all who wield divine magic can be killed but do not feed Strahd. ---------------------------------------------------------
Dreslin DeVir Drow Hexblade of the White Well Blade Pact
Dreslin's mother Viconia never spoke much about his father. He knows she was an adventurer in her youth and that on one such adventure, she and another drow saved the elven city of Suldanessalar from a Zhentarim plot. This other drow was Dreslin's father. For this act, the elves accepted them both, and Queen Ellesime bestowed the highest honors of the Seldarine, an accolade never before given to one of their dark kind, let alone two. The two drow celebrated the victory with the surface elves and eventually they departed, each going their separate ways.
10 months later Dreslin's mother returned to Suldanessalar, unexpectedly large with child and ready to give birth. Queen Ellesime welcomed her friend into her court and Dreslin was born in the palace. His mother rarely talks about Dreslin's father. Only saying that Dreslin inherited his fathers good looks and combat aptitude, but thankfully got his mothers ease for casting magic. His father isn't even aware of Dreslin's existence. Viconia often saying (in her thickest Menzoberranzan accent) that she didn't need the help of a mere male in raising her child and that males were only good for the making of the child, but useless for anything after. Perhaps not one of the better parts of Drow culture.
It hardly mattered to him as Dreslin was never short of love and friends. A Drow growing up in Suldanessalar shocked many when they first learn of Dreslin and his Mother. Growing up in Suldanessalar however was quite a happy experience, both Dreslin and his mother having been accepted by the surface elves and their community.
His desire to learn of elven culture and history led Dreslin to become an Archeologist. Professor of Archeology, expert on the occult & elven/drow history, and shall we say "acquirer of ancient artifacts". Oddly enough it was in a library, and not a tomb, where Dreslin discovered his most life changing find.
Under a broken flagstone Dreslin found a hidden golden sac, inside which was a golden compass and sylvan tome. The book was titled "Fey Pacts of Ancient Days" and detailed warlock pacts made with Fey creatures and more importantly, the locations of portals into the fey wild from the material plane and how to find them. The golden compass is magical and leads the wielder to the nearest portal to the fey wild. Packing for the adventure of a lifetime, Drealin set off for the nearest portal. Only to find out after going through to the fey wild, that the portal was unstable and collapsed. Dreslin was trapped in the fey wild with no way home.
He walked for weeks (or years? time moves differently in the fey wild). One evening he came upon a clearing next to a beautiful crescent shaped lake. The still waters, reflecting the fey moon’s pale light until the pool appeared milky white. In the clearing was the most wonderful sight he could hope to have seen. A unicorn was giving birth. So rare an occurrence that there are immortal creatures who had never been able to witness such an event. In quiet reverence Dreslin sat at a respectable distance and watched.
As the foal was crowning, a hungry displacer beast jumped out from hiding in the trees. The unicorn, venerable and unable to flee. Dreslin attacked the fey panther hoping to drive it off. His weapons broken and physically exhausted, the fight did not go well. Dreslin was thrown towards the shore of the lake. As he lifted his head up he saw the displacer beast leap to pounce upon him. But as it did, time seemed to slow down and then stop altogether for everything accept the drow. Dreslin looked around andIt was then that the saw an immaculate blade rise from the water. Inch by inch it climbed ever higher until a platinum crossbar appeared, to be followed by a pearlescent handle gripped by a flawless hand whose skin was cream and whose grip was easy. The sword stood above the still waters of the lake, raised high by an expectant hand.
Dreslin accepted the blade and charged the displacer beast. As he did time seemed to return to normal. As the displacer beast leaped, Dreslin braced himself and the creature impaled itself upon the blade that only a moment before did not exist.
Bloodied and dying, Dreslin returned to the unicorn's side in time to see the baby born. Drow bring so much evil into the world, Dreslin was content that he had, in a very real way, helped to bring some good into the world instead. He accepted his fate and let unconsciousness take him on the soft grass of the clearing.
He woke up days later, covered in warm leaves. His wounds had been magically healed and... he was naked. With only a cloak made from the displacer beast's hide to cover himself; Dreslin found himself staring at the most beautiful elven woman he had ever seen. Impossibly beautiful. She was the Lady of the White Well. In fact a powerful archfey who had witnessed Dreslin's bravery. Impressed that the drow would do something so selfless and noble, she offered him a proposition. She offered him a pact to bind himself to her, to become her hexblade. Dreslin would become her Shining Knight, charged with carrying out her will in the material realm and beyond. Through the pact she would grant him vast knowledge and secrets, skill, equipment and boons as well access to the very magic of the fey wild filtered through her and their connection. And she would transport Dreslin back to the material plane. If he proved himself worthy as her knight, she would even give him not only her heart but also her hand in marriage.
How could he do anything but agree. His mind, body and heart all said "Yes" and she bestowed upon him the Sword of the White Well. The same blade he had used to defeat the displacer beast. Realizing just then that she was the lady in the lake who had offered him the weapon to fight the displacer beast. For good or bad, their fates are now interwoven for eternity.
Check out my Disabled & Dragons Youtube Channel for 5e Monster and Player Tactics. Helping the Disabled Community and Players and DM’s (both new and experienced) get into D&D. Plus there is a talking Dragon named Quill.
My character is Severyn Tam a half Drow who grew up in a trading city in the upper underdark this city was on the edge of an underground sea and had trade routes to every city and species that would protect their trade routes to ensure a ready supply of goods only available in the world below to those willing to trade.
Severyn did not know his father but was told he was a second son of a fairly respected house, his mother who was also half elf with at least some blood of the Drow in her past raised Severyn while she ran an herb shop selling herbs from both the surface and underdark, also to those trusted and well funded enough she sold rare poisons of all types and some of her own design, she taught Severyn where to find the herbs and how to collect and dry or preserve and mix the ingredients til he was almost as talented as she...
Severyn made extra money betting on games throwing daggers and darts until no one would play or bet against him anymore he then resorted to stealing to help his mother make ends meet.
It was through one such job where he found a book that called to him and changed his life, he took the book for himself and learned of pacts and powers beyond any he could gain as a simple thief, but he was not eager to trade his soul....and yet the idea, the roots of his desire for power were planted and grew deeper every day.
Then a cataclysmic event brought down the world crushing the city he was born in and taking his family.
The presence he felt from the book told him of a mirror, a magical doorway to the surface he could use to escape before the rest of his sky came crashing down.
But when he went through the mirror it was crushed by falling debris and when he came out on the surface at night he screamed for he had been torn and cracked as the mirror had been, his left arm below the elbow was gone blood flowing freely and his left eye also gone and cuts along his ribs bleeding fast enough that he knew he would die soon, without anyone to help he was forced to do what he had feared. He offered to make a pact to save his life and make him whole he would serve this master who had whispered to him.
But he was deceived his words were not careful enough and his new patron had a cruel sense of humor he was made whole with a demons forearm and hand, and a demonic eye to replace his lost one. He now saw his patron without being shrouded and could see him for the fiend he truly was, and knew he was now bound to him.
So yeah that's Severyn Tam he's a bladelock fiend pact/ swashbuckler Rogue. Started Rogue for the extra skills then went lock eventually to go 5 lvls in swashbuckler for the sneak attack and uncanny dodge an extra ways to SA, and bonus to initiative and free two weapons fighting. The 15 in warlock to learn as many necromancer spells as he can as he wants to learn the secrets of necromancy but cannot be a wizard so learns every shadow and necro spells he can, and covers his demonic eye and forearm when in cities that frown upon those who are cursed or not of good alignment. It's annoying but they do offer some advantages that ease the burden somewhat as he gains power from his patron he can see things he could not before with his new eye, and his hand though ugly to most does seem unnaturally strong the claws very sharp and they seem as if they could do real damage if he needed in a pinch, and who knows what other uses they will reveal as time goes on and his abilities grow...
Roleplaying wise he's a scary man that used to be on the verge of being a villain and is trying to make himself better man and joined the group because of their heroic reputation. For now he is still trying to keep his scary reputation, and is having trouble trying to be a better person as he doesn’t want to seem weak. The group actually likes his familiar more whom is a cheerfully soul by the name of Kat (I actually roleplay them equally as two separate characters) who loves cookies, song and anything cheerful. They are collectively an odd couple which I have fun roleplay as them being partners.
Tactically Kerrans role is to be a rotationary character (sometimes in the front row, sometimes as an artillerist), our group isn't the best on tactics or crowd control and the way the DM plays a lot of enemies break our lines (lots of Jump, blink ect) so Kerran can fill any role needed. Kat should be our scout but isn’t, she accompanies our scout so kerran and Kat can communicate telepathically.
Stats AC 21 (26 with Shield), HP 98 (+29 with inspiring speech and Aid) Str 8, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 13 Cha 20
Cantrips Booming Blade, Eldritch Blast, Green-Flame Blade, Guidance, Mage Hand, Mind Sliver, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
I have a magic Flying ship, A magic Rapier that does extra damage to Undead, fey & fiends, and basic gear (+ armor, + 1 shield and ring of protection) and boots of Elven Kind
The rest of the group: a Human Cleric (War), a Human Paladin/Sorcerer (smite DPS), Elven Wizard/Evoker, Halfling Bard/Lore, Half elf Rogue/scout
Check out Tavernpedia 2.0 for info on my roleplay warlock Krathian. His char sheet is in my sig but that hasn't been updated for a while, and he's gone through some changes.
He's a Chain Goolock with street-mage vibes that carries a sword cane and is rarely ever seen without his cephalopod familiar, Q'ilbrith. (He's a homebrew monster called a Q'aba, that looks like a small black octopus with white eyes. It is naturally sentient and can only communicate through telepathy. They are created, not born, by incredibly powerful eldritch horrors as gifts for their favored servants.)
He used to live on my homebrew plane of Mardioch before it died. He exchanged the remainder of his extended life and the ability to sleep for his survival, with the eldritch horror Orvar, aka, the eye in the hand that walks. Orvar is a being of pure thought, and exists solely to gather knowledge for the sake of it. Krathian is his spy. The more knowledge Orvar has, the more power he gains. Orvar is predictably a bookish sort but occasionally uses his knowledge for the good of others ... if he feels like it.
As a mark of his pact with Orvar, Krathian has an eye with a cross-shaped iris set in his left hand.
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Hi, I am not a chest. I deny with 100% certainty that I am a chest. I can neither confirm nor deny what I am beyond that.
I used to portray Krathian, Q'ilbrith, Jim, Tara, Turin, Nathan, Tench, Finn, Alvin, and other characters in various taverns.
I'm very excited to play this character. I just made him for a campaign I just joined and even though we have yet to start playing, I really wanna talk about my warlock. Lol.
His name is Zumfir Yealdrin, a wood elf noble who was well known for his paintings. From young age, Zumfir always found art enjoyable. He would doodle during classes, sketch whatever he saw out his window. His parents found he had a natural talent and decided to have him be trained to master the skill of painting. As he study and grew, Zumfir's paintings become world bound. It was like he took a still image from life itself. The young elf however found that there was no life in his paintings. He found them dull and dry, despite their perfection.
One day he came down with a terrible fever from the stress of his parents wanting him to create endless of perfect paintings to be shown off for their friends and allies. He was bedridden for nearly half a month, tormented by strange visions and nightmares. He would ramble and shout endlessly. Many healers and doctors came to the call of his parents, but none could seem to help the young elf noble. Zumfir's parents believed he would not make it.
A servant noticed one night, Zumfir's room was unusually quiet. As the servant crept closer to the door, pressing their ear to the wood, they could hear their young master whispering and muttering. The sound of a brush dancing vigorously across a surface. Upon further inspection, they found that Zumfir had painted a strange image of a mysterious being.
"Do you like it?" Zumfir asked with a eerie giggle. "Are they not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?"
"Who..who is that Lord Zumfir?" The servant asked.
"Why, my beloved muse. They have given me a new purpose in life, a new beginning. No longer will I have to be restrained in this suffocating mold my parents have put me in. I will create such masterpeices, opening the eyes of many to the hidden world of the beyond the physical realm!" Zumfir shouted with a mad glee, through up his arms.
His family however did not understand what Zumfir was speaking about. They called him mad and to stop this nonsense. To behave. Zumfir was no longer going to live to his family's expectations. He soon packed his things and left his home to seek out the strange beauty and wonders of the world with the guidance of his muse.
He currently uses a longsword and a whip for battle, surprising with magic when physical strength and cunning isn't going to win the fight.
He made a pact with an Archfey, his arcana being a glass eye he wears hidden behind his rose tinted monocle. I plan on having him do a pact of chain and getting a Quizit familiar that'll he'll name Precious.
(below are some concept sketches of Zumfir. Side note. The "Paintings" in the second and fourth image are not mine. The second panel is from google searches, the fourth is from weeboart.com. This was just to give me an idea on his style change before and after pact was made.)
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Long time roleplayer and artist, I enjoy the fantasy world of dragons and magic. It only makes sense I dive into Dungeons and Dragons!
Looking forward to learning the game and making new friends. :)
Mechanics: 6th level. 2 Hexblade, 4 Dragon Blood Sorcerer. He will only ever take 4 levels in sorcerer. He primarily wants to take quicken spell to double his Eldritch blasts. He will progress as a Hexblade/Pact of the chain hereafter.
Do others know they're a warlock, or do they keep it close to the chest? Vandal depends on his armor and blade to deflect most questions. But he will admit to being a warlock if asked.
Two hundred years ago, under the cover of darkness, Nev Van’shir, an ancient vampire and servant to Strahd Von Zarovich, murdered thirty Paladins devoted to Eldath. Nev Van’shir used a weapon called Bloodthirst which was directly connected to Strahd Von Zarovich. The sentient blade was designed to feed it’s master. Whether it landed the killing blow or merely drew blood, it fed the life energies into the master vampire, strengthening the very land of Barovia itself.
Knowing that Nev Van’shir would be attacking the next town – the Paladins of Eldath prepared themselves and ambushed Nev Van’shir. Gravely wounded, the vampire was forced to flee. However, in his attempt to escape, Bloodthirst fell into the darkness of the night - lost forever. The blade without a master sought desperately to fulfill its purpose.
Vandal was born into the Waterdhavian noble house of Whiteraven. Vandal grew up with all of the benefits of wealth, including good schooling, and a stable home. He was however a prodigal, squandering everything in orgy of self-indulgence.
Ashamed by his behavior his father confronted him. “You soil our name the way you soil your trousers, you drunkard fool. Your behavior has wrought shame to our family name.” “What good is wealth if one does not enjoy it?” Vandal asked, taking another deep drink from the bottle in his hand. “If we die without spending that which we have who will take it? It is better to live a life of fulfilment.” “This,” his father gestured, “is not fulfilment. This is how a commoner’s pig would live. And you will not live like this any longer. Not here.” “What are you going to do? Cast me out? Your only son?” Vandal chuckled drunkenly.
Vandal next found himself standing outside the manor’s gate with no way back in. The true tragedy of the moment struck him: he would need to get… a job.
Too many knew the Whiteravens, and thus, Vandal’s reputation. Changing his last name to Morn, he left Waterdeep for a small nearby town. He lived well by selling his jewelry. But more often than not, he fell back into his ways of debauchery and squandered even what little wealth that brought him.
Unable to afford the protection of a caravan, Vandal was forced to walk to yet another town. The road was lonely, the trees cast dark foreboding shadows. He saw an approaching group of people which he had mistook as gnomes initially, but as he drew closer, he realized it was a band of goblins! His heart sank as he realized he had sold off his last dagger.
He dove into the bushes just off the road and held his breath. As the goblins approached, one of them paused. “Somethin’ been here,” it growled as it pointed at the road. “Fresh tracks.” Vandal knew that they would find him. Like a rabbit he dashed deeper into the woods, the goblins immediately pursued. He could hear their gleeful cheering mixed with hoots and callings. He ran for seemingly forever, the goblins showed no signs of tiring, Vandal stumbled into a graveyard (Here in the wilderness?)– a misty maze of ancient tombstones. Aside from the thundering beat of his heart, the world was silent as if it held its breath.
With no other choice, he bolted across as quickly as he could, and fell directly into a freshly dug grave. Frantically he tried to climb out. If the goblins found him, it would be like spearing fish in a barrel. The wet soil prevented him from getting a solid hold. Vandal sunk to the ground realizing he would die like a pig in mud, just as his father had predicted. He watched from the pit as the sun passed over, then the moon, then the sun again. He noticed, because there was nothing else to do, that the entire day and night, not a single sound could be heard – no birds, deer, owls – nothing.
Believing he was safe, Vandal tried to climb again, and this time as he tried to stand, his hand touched something that sent a spark of energy through his body. Looking down and saw the hilt of a blade protruding from the mud. He pulled it out – and for a brief moment – had a vision of a pale being, bathed in blood, slaying armored men.
Vandal tried to drop it – but something refused to let him go. The jet-black sword seemed to have a crackling energy about it. “Take me,” he heard the voice in his head as the blade shimmered, “and you will never be afraid again. Kill for me, let me drink the blood of those who stand against you.” The voice was soothing and calming, despite the tone of the message. “Take me up, and I will make YOU a devastating weapon!” Vandal took the weapon, and it melded into his arm, leaving only the tattoo of a black sword.
Feeling a surge of power, Vandal leapt from the grave. Fearlessly, he entered the forest, where he heard the unmistakable chatter of goblins. Purple energies erupted from his hands. Six squealing goblins quenched the blades thirst. There was no blood left in them, not a drop, just a look of horror.
Vandal stepped onto the path. He felt like a man for the first time. He wasn’t a servant; he was a weapon. He liked that. Vandal was no longer a rake, a drunk, or a loser. Vandal was going to be a hero. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Pact: Vandal made a deal with Bloodthirst, a weapon designed to strengthen Strahd and his realm. With every death (he need not cast the killing blow), blood and energy flow into the land of Barovia. Not a drop of blood will even stain the clothing of his victims. BUT. Anyone struck by either ray, spell, or sword will die with a look of horror.
Vandal is not required to commit murder. An adventurer’s life provides enough blood to suffice. Vandal is not aware he ultimately serves Strahd, just a nameless sword. Strahd is aware of the energy he receives but not who wields it (indeed there are several feeding Barovia this way). Bloodthirst is simply fulfilling its purpose: to feed Strahd. Finally, Strahd cannot issue orders through the sword. Vandal is under no compulsion to obey Strahd, even if they should meet. The undead and all who wield divine magic can be killed but do not feed Strahd. ---------------------------------------------------------
I remember this character from the art thread, his familiar is Circe right?
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Hi, I am not a chest. I deny with 100% certainty that I am a chest. I can neither confirm nor deny what I am beyond that.
I used to portray Krathian, Q'ilbrith, Jim, Tara, Turin, Nathan, Tench, Finn, Alvin, and other characters in various taverns.
Name: Læna Galanodel (aka Bell Silverstone) Class: Warlock (Celestial) Race: High Elf Patron: Vasael, angel of the Raven Queen Additional references: -Alisaie Leveilleur (High Elf Paladin) is another PC -The Witchbe family is the family of fellow PC Malevolence Witchbe (Tiefling Sorcerer) -The fallen champion of the Raven Queen is fellow PC Novah, who is the daughter of Vasael (Fallen Aasimar Hexblade)
Backstory:
More than a century ago, a high elf was born by the name Bell Galanodel. She was the youngest of three daughters made by Kandor and Frøya Galanodel. Kandor was the cook of house Leveilleur, a knightly house in service of the Fortemps, and Frøya was their gardener. Like elves do, they gave their children their child names: Vell, Dell and Bell. Vell was a great gardener like her mother and Dell a great cook like her father. But their youngest child, Bell, was different. She had fits of rage and tantrums and could neither grow plants or prepare dinner. Her parents and sisters tried their best to raise their daughter well and get her to accept her place and become a good servant to the house of Leveilleur. But nothing they did worked.
At the age of 42, Bell had had enough and she left her home. Not satisfied with her fate in life she headed out to explore the world. But the world was cruel and she managed to get herself captured by Orcs and would surely have been killed but for one trait. Bell was good at two things, absolute savagery and a fierce tongue. The orcs found her tantrums amusing and made her fight other captives, and over time she gained the trust of the small orc raiding party that had captured her. She fought alongside them, learning their language and goring their enemies with bow and sword. Until one night, when all her original capturers had died and after the orcish party had suffered severe losses. She slid the throats of the camp guards and fled.
Having spent nearly three decades with the orcs had forever changed her. It had brought out her worst qualities. Her rage and cruelty. Now entering her seventies she for the first time came upon a human settlement. She was welcomed warmly, since what did the humans have to fear from a single elf? A lot, it would turn out. Bell would ingratiate herself with a group of locals that were fed up with the mayor and learn their names, where they met, and what they talked about. After she had learned all she cared too, she went to the mayor and sold them out. The town imploded on itself and Bell left in the dead of night with a pouch of gold and a new identity. She had asked to be formally adopted by the mayor to get his last name and open doors. To which he had agreed. Her name was now Bell Silverstone.
It is under this name that she would start her career of banditry. Now 78 and running out of gold, Bell came upon a halfling village that was at the outskirts of the territory of the Witchbe family. Though they were intended to be independant and left alone, the Witchbe tax collectors did not agree with this and pressed the halflings for taxes that they could rarely afford. This is where Bell entered the village. At first just a kindly elf pretending to be there to help, she slowly rallied the halflings into a dangerous course. With the help of a local halfling rogue named Lowhill Highvalley, she learned their language and culture and integrated into their daily lives. She nudged and prodded the halflings into banditry. At first to pay the taxes forced upon them. They’d only take what they need, right? But then she pushed further and a greed rose among some of the halflings that she exploited. When the halfling elder, Kebble Greengrass, started to push back, he soon fell ill and died.
After the death of Kebble Greengrass, Bell Silverstone pushed the halflings to name the old rogue Lowhill Highvalley as their new village elder. But he was the leader in name only. As Bell made all the final decisions. This state of affairs continued for about forty years. But eventually things changed. A group of adventurers rose to the occasion of cleaning up the local bandit problem. Most of Bell’s bandits were killed, but some, including Lowhill Highvalley managed to get away. Bell herself escaped as well, with some hastily grabbed treasure and a few scars on her back, arms and legs.
Bell was now 120 and felt like it was time to pick out her adult name. She chose the name Læna. Læna Silverstone reflected on her past and decided that conventional weaponry was no longer going to cut it. While she was in no way a dumb child, she did not care to take the time to learn magic on her own. Among the treasures she had been able to smuggle out during her escape from the adventurers was a scroll that she believed to be able to summon a powerful fiend. Intending to use this scroll to forge a pact with said fiend for power, she performed the ritual. There was however a surprise awaiting her. What she summoned was a celestial. An angel of the Raven Queen named Vasael. Vasael saw an opportunity and took it. The angel intended to enlist the elf as a bridge into the material plane to aid the new champion of the Raven Queen. She forced Læna into a pact and ordered her to hone her new given skills for the forces of good.
When Læna was ready, it was too late though. The planned Champion had fallen from grace and Vasael decided to send Læna home instead. Læna took back her old family name, Læna Galanodel, and returned to house Leveilleur. She was taken back in with open arms by her father and mother. Her sisters, Vell and Dell, who now had the adult names Aranee and Theren respectively, had grown into their roles as servants of house Leveilleur without problem. Not knowing about their daughter’s violent past, her parents pushed her into serving the knightly house as well.
Læna was taken to the Leveilleur family and presented to the leaders of the house on the day a fresh young paladin was sworn into their role. Vasael sensed this as an opportunity and pushed Læna to request to become the young girl’s squire. Showing her skill with divine support magic, and the fact that her family had long been faithful servants of the house, the Leveilleurs agreed. So as Alisaie Leveilleur was sworn in, she was given Læna Galanodel as her personal squire.
Læna would continue to serve the young girl faithfully, and even grew to like the girl, despite her sour disposition. And when the paladin was appointed as bodyguard for a girl from house Fortemps, Læna followed. Though one day, Læna was send away for something stupid. To deliver a letter to the young paladin’s mother. While Læna was away, fate struck and Alisaie lost the life of her charge. The paladin would seek the path of redemption, and though Læna seemingly did not have to follow, she did so anyway. Sticking to Little Aly even closer as before.
My Fiend Warlock thinks his patron is a celestial (his imp familiar is always in raven form).
Edgar is the son of wealthy family. He feels he grew up in the shadow of his sister, Olivia. Olivia was beautiful, academically brilliant and had received a scholership to attend wizard school she was also a master at fencing in fact anything she attempted, at least in Edgar's, mind without even trying she excelled. Edgar became intensely jealous of his sister he thought his parents loved her for her abilities and while they treated him well he always felt as if they were disappointed with him. Edgar would do anything to outdo his sister and while not particularly religious he decided anything was worth trying so he preyed to the Raven Queen promising he would do anything to be more powerful than Olivia. He was answered by an otherworldly creature that said it would grant him powers in excess of what his sister could do if he agreed to serve it. Thinking it was a celestial of the Raven Queen he readily agreed (not knowing it was actually a devil). Sure enough he received magical powers and a familiar that would serve him.
I run two different Paladin/Warlock characters in two separate campaigns.
CHOLKAR: Paladin of Torm and warlock of a Great Old One.
Started as a paladin of Torm. Then he met a dwarf paladin who loaned Cholkar a book on other gods and, through reading it, was contacted by Yad-Thaddag, a Great Old One (and the only Cthulhu-mythos Elder God that is actually benevolent towards Life). Cholkar realized there are truths in addition to Torm's that will help him assist others. His delving into the abilities as a warlock forced to leave his village because he was not "pure" Torm.
GALANDIL: Paladin of Aerdrie Faenya and Hexblade of the Raven Queen, he also deeply honors Vandria Gilmadrith & Corellon.
Raised in Aglarond by his adoptive sun elf "father" and his emerald-eyed Rashemi (human) natural mother. Galandil's mother had been held captive by the shadar-kai then rescued by sun elves of Aglarond. One of her rescuers fell in love with her then married her 2 months after her rescue when she discovered she was 3 months pregnant. She gave birth to Galandil 6 months later.
His partial shadar-kai ancestry gave him innate stealthliness while he gained tough self-reliance from his Rashemaar mother. Raised among sun elves, Galandil grew to worship Aerdrie Faenya & her love of birds though he resisted her more chaotic nature, tempering it with a deep honor of Corellon's protective warrior teachings & Vandria Gilmadrith's Lawful discipline. Such a combination has led Galandil to be described as "somewhat mercurial" (not to mention "bird brain"). His life in Aglarond has bestowed upon him an insatiable love of learning, a desire to wander the world, & a preference for elven weapons & armor. So insatiable is that love that he has virtually memorized the sole possession his mother had stolen from the shadar-kai during her rescue..a book of the Raven Queen.
Yes, I understand this thread is for warlocks but I wanted to show that, with careful thought, the warlock class can easily be combined with other classes to really bring the warlock flavor to a campaign.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!" - Hunter S. Thompson
When life is bleak, all hope is lost, a wall is at your back, you always have one option left...attack! Attack! ATTACK! - Me
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I've got Meiq'arim, Half-Elf Warlock of the Undying (currently level 3). Was a street urchin after the death of their mother, got involved in a street brawl and took a harsh knife to the gut, bleeding out in a back alley when "the voice" offered them a chance to live in return for a promise. They didn't want to die having seen so little of the world, so they agreed, and woke from a blackout with their hair bleaching at the root, and their eyes bleaching from the pupil outwards. The wound was healed, and the scar was unnaturally dark. A mark.
The problem was, Meiq'arim actually wasn't supposed to die anyways; a local healer would've found them before they bled out and saved their life. Seems Death's bureaucracy runs on a skeleton crew (hah), and a minor-level management member was desperate for some help, so she pounced on the closest soul in peril for a quick deal. If the Records of the Dead become lost or disorganized, new souls might end up in the wrong place, and souls might slip back across the veil undetected, willingly or not. And that wouldn't do. So she made a rushed deal, with lighter terms than might normally be set in such a pact. (Originally inspired by the "unexpected situation" in Yu Yu Hakusho's early arc.)
So now, Meiq'arim roams across the world and other planes (the current adventure jumped out from Sigil, City of Doors) to see the sights and feel the rush of adventure, but every now and then, the tolling of a bell signals their disappearance back to the land of the dead for paperwork. Every "day" spent down there, one more hair turns white down to the tip, and once every hair has been paid, their end of the bargain is upheld. Serving the forces of Death and the Raven Queen in the living world are also on the table, and serve double duty; granting Meiq'arim chances to speed up their payment, and letting them explore. With their faithful sprite familiar Mushroom flitting about, there's so much they want to see, now that they have the time.
L'FalceNera, Svirfneblin, The Fiend (worshipper of Samael), Pact of the Tome/Book of Ancient Secrets,
Probably the only survivor of the island of Yormm. The island was destroyed by a massive volcanic eruption. The island was found to be devastated after returning from a pilgrimage to the Sacred Lake of Arimabi. Searches the planes for other survivors.
Samael, better known as the Grim Reaper, is a fallen angel. He is the chief seducer, accuser, and destroyer. Samael is also called the chief of the Dragons of Evil and Prince of Darkness. Samael is both kind and cruel and was once a heavenly host. He lorded over ‘Sheba Ha-yechaloth’, or the seven habitations. His sphere of influence extends to the infernal realm as well.
Cedo nulli, Calcanda semel via leti.
Parvi sed magni.
Captain Geldar the mountin dwarf was on patrol in the deep places in the world. After an ambush left him the sole survivor he made a pact whit the great old one. He now have the pact of the blade and do his best to do his masters will. So far he have let his sorcerer companion pick up corrupted items, slowly turning the neutral good character to be more and more evil. He also made a bet agianst a dwarf gladiator and have more gold then he know what to do whit. The other players know that I’m a warlock, but not thier characters. Somthing the Sorcerer have a hard time whit. Each time they ask in game i simply say I’m a wizard. When they follow up whit questions on why i then have half plate armor and a two handed sword, i wink and say I’m not a good wizard. This frustrates the sorcerers player. The rest of the party is a bard that have been able to marry a peasant girl and a cleric that started as a warforge but thrue a wish to be ”a real boy”, turned to a clearic version of Danny Devito. And yes he is shorter then the dwarf whit 2 inches. Each time we try to step out of the dms plans we are faced whit an army. We have beaten back 2 armies so far. One Dragonborn and one undead. The DM have also tried to kill us. It have not worked that well. Last time we at level 6 faced of agianst a mummy lord. We just beat him. Gendar have picked up tricks to be an ok assassin. Ring of water walking, slippers of wall walking, being able to be invisible in darkness. The plan at the moment is to hunt down the last Dragonborn army that’s on the lose in the kingdome, or warn the army or somthing. O and keep corrupting my fellow players. If you wonder about how much gold, let me just say that i have started to look on how much it would cost to buy a castle or a keep. Do you have any good ideas on what to spend money on?
My lovely new gal, bracing up for her first exploratory game next week:
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Nytra Xyroxi Helnoa Ufeli Bitterclear, a.k.a. 'Foxtail', 'Trickpaws', 'Goddamnit you get outta here! DX'
Nytra Xyroxi Helnoa Ufeli Bitterclear (hereafter 'Nytra' for short) is an enigma. Her father, Quijin (Many Gnomish Gnames) Bitterclear, an apothecary working in the town of Hupperdook in the Dwendalian Empire, discovered Nytra and her brother Kharl yowling in the woods, abandoned as babes. Though roughly the size and shape of a gnomish infant, the two had fuzzy, down-covered paws instead of legs and feet, their ears were perched atop their heads, and each had a sadly bedraggled tail trailing behind them. Despite their abnormalities, Quijin couldn't bear to leave the kits sitting there yowling in the woods. He took them in and decided they were his now.
The poor man never quite knew what hit him.
As they grew, Nytra and Kharl proved quick of wit, cheerful of disposition, and mischievous to a fault. Everyone in their neighborhood knew to watch for flashes of red-brown fur, and many learned to check for harmless but vexatious 'traps' as a matter of daily course. The two were thick as thieves, the ringleaders of a little circle of minxish, trouble-prone children that were the absolute bane of the adults in their neighborhood. Sadly, this included the influential business leader and town councilman Eldrod Brasstack, who had long since made his scornful disapproval of Quijin's apothecary public knowledge over an old, oft-embellished slight. Nytra hated the grouchy old councilman, who made sure to slight Quijin's store some way or another at least once a month...but she could do little about it. At least, for now.
As much as Nytra enjoyed being a mischievous tease, nobody in Hupperdook got a free lunch. When they were old enough, she and Kharl were sent into the woods surrounding the town to search for medicinal herbs during the day while Quijin worked, helping their father out. One day, while out doing just that after a week's heavy rains, the two found a small cave entrance, almost impossible to spot had its entrance not been washed out by the rain. They decided to go exploring, spending an hour or two excitedly exploring the space, only to find an old, worn oil lamp hidden away behind a rockfall. When they pulled the lamp free and opened it, the two kits received the fright of their life when a Djinni burst free of the lamp in an explosion of ethereal smoke. The Djinni, who introduced himself as Dhuzzi the Extravagant, thanked the younglings for freeing him from a most infuriating trap, offering them sweet candies and a delightful show of magic as a reward...as well as one single Wish, to be shared between them. Nytra, in her overwhelming excitement, spoke before her brother could interject, saying
"I wish we get to grow up into awesome adventurers, just like in the stories!"
Dhuzzi laughed, smirked, and spoke the words "Wish...granted" before vanishing in another burst of smoke. Nytra turned in delight to her brother...who proceeded to attack her, beating Nytra within an inch of her fluffy hide, screaming at her. "Why didn't you wish to know where we came from?!"
Ever since that day, the once inseparable bond between the siblings was strained. For three more years they grew, carrying out their duties and chores for Quijin, but Kharl's relationship with his sister never recovered. He grew distant, moody and preoccupied, throwing himself into historical studies, and he rarely had time for his sister's games anymore. One night...he simply vanished. He packed what he cared to take, left a brief not for Quijin explaining to his father that he couldn't stand not knowing anymore, and walked out in the night. For Nytra, he left not a single word. He never even wrote her name in the single letter he left for their adoptive father.
Two years after that, a subdued - but not too subdued - Nytra was plotting fresh hijinks in the alleyways near the marketplace when a voice said to her "so about that Wish to become an awesome adventurer!" For the second time in her life, Nytra startled right out of her fur as Dhuzzi the Extravagant appeared before her, grinning wide, and told her it was time to make good on her wish. He granted her a mote of power, grown for all the five years since they'd freed him and only now harvested, and spent the day teaching her a slew of delightful new tricks. Spells and powers beyond anything anyone in Hupperdook could boast of...or protect themselves against.
The next day, after Eldrod Brasstack discovered over a dozen pairs of his finest silk pantaloons fluttering from the lampposts of the city scrawled with lewd messages, he set up a tremendous hue and cry. Crownsguard and local militia both were mobilized to find "that rotten little unnatural wretch!" and bring her to him for a million years of imprisonment. Quijin, hearing this, simply handed Nytra a small pack of belongings and told her "Probably best if you take a vacation for a little while, Foxtail. Go on. Bring me souvenirs."
And so she did. With a quickness, and rather carefully until she was clear of the limits of Hupperdook. It was bittersweet - the best prank she'd ever pulled, but one that had cost Nytra her home. She'd come back eventually, once she was powerful enough not to care what Eldrod 'Cork Screwer' Brasstack did...but until then?
She'd wished to be an Adventurer. Dhuzzi had given her awesome cool magic to go and Adventure with. And Nytra has absolutely no intention of wasting the gift.
Please do not contact or message me.
Nym Filifar, Drow Warlock serving Psilofyr, The Carrion King God of the Myconids.
Nym was an average member of her community growing up, however, as she became an adult, she left the sprawling Drow City, and its underhanded backstabbing, for a simpler life, 'Forestry', or as close as you call someone harvesting Giant Mushrooms, and repelling into the depths of the Underdark. On one such dives, she encountered a horde of Myconids, seeing her as a potential threat, due to the Drow's history of enslaving their kind, they quickly overwhelmed her, and she cried out for help.
A Voice responded, the voice of what would become Nym's New Master, Psilofyr. While grateful for being saved, she was obviously wasnt thrilled being held as a servant to her Master, being sent as an agent against his Rogue personalities, aided only by the arcane magic her master allows her, and a small Sprite, bound by the chain.
There was one bit of respite, however bitter, her master gave her one way she could escape from their pact, Killing the Spider Queen, Lolth, the Goddess of her people.
Now, crossing the lands, in search of other pockets of Underdark, and other Rogue personalities, Nym hides her power, using some of the fey magic she has been granted, as she enters a town which is being used as a checkpoint for refugees.
Vandal Morn:
Mechanics: 6th level. 2 Hexblade, 4 Dragon Blood Sorcerer. He will only ever take 4 levels in sorcerer. He primarily wants to take quicken spell to double his Eldritch blasts. He will progress as a Hexblade/Pact of the chain hereafter.
Do others know they're a warlock, or do they keep it close to the chest? Vandal depends on his armor and blade to deflect most questions. But he will admit to being a warlock if asked.
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Barovia
Two hundred years ago, under the cover of darkness, Nev Van’shir, an ancient vampire and servant to Strahd Von Zarovich, murdered thirty Paladins devoted to Eldath.
Nev Van’shir used a weapon called Bloodthirst which was directly connected to Strahd Von Zarovich. The sentient blade was designed to feed it’s master. Whether it landed the killing blow or merely drew blood, it fed the life energies into the master vampire, strengthening the very land of Barovia itself.
Knowing that Nev Van’shir would be attacking the next town – the Paladins of Eldath prepared themselves and ambushed Nev Van’shir. Gravely wounded, the vampire was forced to flee. However, in his attempt to escape, Bloodthirst fell into the darkness of the night - lost forever. The blade without a master sought desperately to fulfill its purpose.
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Faerun.
Vandal was born into the Waterdhavian noble house of Whiteraven. Vandal grew up with all of the benefits of wealth, including good schooling, and a stable home. He was however a prodigal, squandering everything in orgy of self-indulgence.
Ashamed by his behavior his father confronted him. “You soil our name the way you soil your trousers, you drunkard fool. Your behavior has wrought shame to our family name.”
“What good is wealth if one does not enjoy it?” Vandal asked, taking another deep drink from the bottle in his hand. “If we die without spending that which we have who will take it? It is better to live a life of fulfilment.”
“This,” his father gestured, “is not fulfilment. This is how a commoner’s pig would live. And you will not live like this any longer. Not here.”
“What are you going to do? Cast me out? Your only son?” Vandal chuckled drunkenly.
Vandal next found himself standing outside the manor’s gate with no way back in. The true tragedy of the moment struck him: he would need to get… a job.
Too many knew the Whiteravens, and thus, Vandal’s reputation. Changing his last name to Morn, he left Waterdeep for a small nearby town. He lived well by selling his jewelry. But more often than not, he fell back into his ways of debauchery and squandered even what little wealth that brought him.
Unable to afford the protection of a caravan, Vandal was forced to walk to yet another town. The road was lonely, the trees cast dark foreboding shadows. He saw an approaching group of people which he had mistook as gnomes initially, but as he drew closer, he realized it was a band of goblins! His heart sank as he realized he had sold off his last dagger.
He dove into the bushes just off the road and held his breath. As the goblins approached, one of them paused. “Somethin’ been here,” it growled as it pointed at the road. “Fresh tracks.”
Vandal knew that they would find him. Like a rabbit he dashed deeper into the woods, the goblins immediately pursued. He could hear their gleeful cheering mixed with hoots and callings.
He ran for seemingly forever, the goblins showed no signs of tiring, Vandal stumbled into a graveyard (Here in the wilderness?)– a misty maze of ancient tombstones. Aside from the thundering beat of his heart, the world was silent as if it held its breath.
With no other choice, he bolted across as quickly as he could, and fell directly into a freshly dug grave. Frantically he tried to climb out. If the goblins found him, it would be like spearing fish in a barrel. The wet soil prevented him from getting a solid hold. Vandal sunk to the ground realizing he would die like a pig in mud, just as his father had predicted. He watched from the pit as the sun passed over, then the moon, then the sun again. He noticed, because there was nothing else to do, that the entire day and night, not a single sound could be heard – no birds, deer, owls – nothing.
Believing he was safe, Vandal tried to climb again, and this time as he tried to stand, his hand touched something that sent a spark of energy through his body. Looking down and saw the hilt of a blade protruding from the mud. He pulled it out – and for a brief moment – had a vision of a pale being, bathed in blood, slaying armored men.
Vandal tried to drop it – but something refused to let him go. The jet-black sword seemed to have a crackling energy about it. “Take me,” he heard the voice in his head as the blade shimmered, “and you will never be afraid again. Kill for me, let me drink the blood of those who stand against you.” The voice was soothing and calming, despite the tone of the message. “Take me up, and I will make YOU a devastating weapon!”
Vandal took the weapon, and it melded into his arm, leaving only the tattoo of a black sword.
Feeling a surge of power, Vandal leapt from the grave. Fearlessly, he entered the forest, where he heard the unmistakable chatter of goblins. Purple energies erupted from his hands. Six squealing goblins quenched the blades thirst. There was no blood left in them, not a drop, just a look of horror.
Vandal stepped onto the path. He felt like a man for the first time. He wasn’t a servant; he was a weapon. He liked that. Vandal was no longer a rake, a drunk, or a loser. Vandal was going to be a hero.
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The Pact: Vandal made a deal with Bloodthirst, a weapon designed to strengthen Strahd and his realm. With every death (he need not cast the killing blow), blood and energy flow into the land of Barovia. Not a drop of blood will even stain the clothing of his victims. BUT. Anyone struck by either ray, spell, or sword will die with a look of horror.
Vandal is not required to commit murder. An adventurer’s life provides enough blood to suffice. Vandal is not aware he ultimately serves Strahd, just a nameless sword. Strahd is aware of the energy he receives but not who wields it (indeed there are several feeding Barovia this way). Bloodthirst is simply fulfilling its purpose: to feed Strahd. Finally, Strahd cannot issue orders through the sword. Vandal is under no compulsion to obey Strahd, even if they should meet. The undead and all who wield divine magic can be killed but do not feed Strahd.
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Dreslin DeVir
Drow Hexblade of the White Well
Blade Pact
Dreslin's mother Viconia never spoke much about his father. He knows she was an adventurer in her youth and that on one such adventure, she and another drow saved the elven city of Suldanessalar from a Zhentarim plot. This other drow was Dreslin's father. For this act, the elves accepted them both, and Queen Ellesime bestowed the highest honors of the Seldarine, an accolade never before given to one of their dark kind, let alone two. The two drow celebrated the victory with the surface elves and eventually they departed, each going their separate ways.
10 months later Dreslin's mother returned to Suldanessalar, unexpectedly large with child and ready to give birth. Queen Ellesime welcomed her friend into her court and Dreslin was born in the palace. His mother rarely talks about Dreslin's father. Only saying that Dreslin inherited his fathers good looks and combat aptitude, but thankfully got his mothers ease for casting magic. His father isn't even aware of Dreslin's existence. Viconia often saying (in her thickest Menzoberranzan accent) that she didn't need the help of a mere male in raising her child and that males were only good for the making of the child, but useless for anything after. Perhaps not one of the better parts of Drow culture.
It hardly mattered to him as Dreslin was never short of love and friends. A Drow growing up in Suldanessalar shocked many when they first learn of Dreslin and his Mother. Growing up in Suldanessalar however was quite a happy experience, both Dreslin and his mother having been accepted by the surface elves and their community.
His desire to learn of elven culture and history led Dreslin to become an Archeologist. Professor of Archeology, expert on the occult & elven/drow history, and shall we say "acquirer of ancient artifacts". Oddly enough it was in a library, and not a tomb, where Dreslin discovered his most life changing find.
Under a broken flagstone Dreslin found a hidden golden sac, inside which was a golden compass and sylvan tome. The book was titled "Fey Pacts of Ancient Days" and detailed warlock pacts made with Fey creatures and more importantly, the locations of portals into the fey wild from the material plane and how to find them. The golden compass is magical and leads the wielder to the nearest portal to the fey wild. Packing for the adventure of a lifetime, Drealin set off for the nearest portal. Only to find out after going through to the fey wild, that the portal was unstable and collapsed. Dreslin was trapped in the fey wild with no way home.
He walked for weeks (or years? time moves differently in the fey wild). One evening he came upon a clearing next to a beautiful crescent shaped lake. The still waters, reflecting the fey moon’s pale light until the pool appeared milky white. In the clearing was the most wonderful sight he could hope to have seen. A unicorn was giving birth. So rare an occurrence that there are immortal creatures who had never been able to witness such an event. In quiet reverence Dreslin sat at a respectable distance and watched.
As the foal was crowning, a hungry displacer beast jumped out from hiding in the trees. The unicorn, venerable and unable to flee. Dreslin attacked the fey panther hoping to drive it off. His weapons broken and physically exhausted, the fight did not go well. Dreslin was thrown towards the shore of the lake. As he lifted his head up he saw the displacer beast leap to pounce upon him. But as it did, time seemed to slow down and then stop altogether for everything accept the drow. Dreslin looked around and It was then that the saw an immaculate blade rise from the water. Inch by inch it climbed ever higher until a platinum crossbar appeared, to be followed by a pearlescent handle gripped by a flawless hand whose skin was cream and whose grip was easy. The sword stood above the still waters of the lake, raised high by an expectant hand.
Dreslin accepted the blade and charged the displacer beast. As he did time seemed to return to normal. As the displacer beast leaped, Dreslin braced himself and the creature impaled itself upon the blade that only a moment before did not exist.
Bloodied and dying, Dreslin returned to the unicorn's side in time to see the baby born. Drow bring so much evil into the world, Dreslin was content that he had, in a very real way, helped to bring some good into the world instead. He accepted his fate and let unconsciousness take him on the soft grass of the clearing.
He woke up days later, covered in warm leaves. His wounds had been magically healed and... he was naked. With only a cloak made from the displacer beast's hide to cover himself; Dreslin found himself staring at the most beautiful elven woman he had ever seen. Impossibly beautiful. She was the Lady of the White Well. In fact a powerful archfey who had witnessed Dreslin's bravery. Impressed that the drow would do something so selfless and noble, she offered him a proposition. She offered him a pact to bind himself to her, to become her hexblade. Dreslin would become her Shining Knight, charged with carrying out her will in the material realm and beyond. Through the pact she would grant him vast knowledge and secrets, skill, equipment and boons as well access to the very magic of the fey wild filtered through her and their connection. And she would transport Dreslin back to the material plane. If he proved himself worthy as her knight, she would even give him not only her heart but also her hand in marriage.
How could he do anything but agree. His mind, body and heart all said "Yes" and she bestowed upon him the Sword of the White Well. The same blade he had used to defeat the displacer beast. Realizing just then that she was the lady in the lake who had offered him the weapon to fight the displacer beast. For good or bad, their fates are now interwoven for eternity.
Check out my Disabled & Dragons Youtube Channel for 5e Monster and Player Tactics. Helping the Disabled Community and Players and DM’s (both new and experienced) get into D&D. Plus there is a talking Dragon named Quill.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPPmyTI0tZ6nM-bzY0IG3ww
My character is Severyn Tam a half Drow who grew up in a trading city in the upper underdark this city was on the edge of an underground sea and had trade routes to every city and species that would protect their trade routes to ensure a ready supply of goods only available in the world below to those willing to trade.
Severyn did not know his father but was told he was a second son of a fairly respected house, his mother who was also half elf with at least some blood of the Drow in her past raised Severyn while she ran an herb shop selling herbs from both the surface and underdark, also to those trusted and well funded enough she sold rare poisons of all types and some of her own design, she taught Severyn where to find the herbs and how to collect and dry or preserve and mix the ingredients til he was almost as talented as she...
Severyn made extra money betting on games throwing daggers and darts until no one would play or bet against him anymore he then resorted to stealing to help his mother make ends meet.
It was through one such job where he found a book that called to him and changed his life, he took the book for himself and learned of pacts and powers beyond any he could gain as a simple thief, but he was not eager to trade his soul....and yet the idea, the roots of his desire for power were planted and grew deeper every day.
Then a cataclysmic event brought down the world crushing the city he was born in and taking his family.
The presence he felt from the book told him of a mirror, a magical doorway to the surface he could use to escape before the rest of his sky came crashing down.
But when he went through the mirror it was crushed by falling debris and when he came out on the surface at night he screamed for he had been torn and cracked as the mirror had been, his left arm below the elbow was gone blood flowing freely and his left eye also gone and cuts along his ribs bleeding fast enough that he knew he would die soon, without anyone to help he was forced to do what he had feared. He offered to make a pact to save his life and make him whole he would serve this master who had whispered to him.
But he was deceived his words were not careful enough and his new patron had a cruel sense of humor he was made whole with a demons forearm and hand, and a demonic eye to replace his lost one. He now saw his patron without being shrouded and could see him for the fiend he truly was, and knew he was now bound to him.
So yeah that's Severyn Tam he's a bladelock fiend pact/ swashbuckler Rogue. Started Rogue for the extra skills then went lock eventually to go 5 lvls in swashbuckler for the sneak attack and uncanny dodge an extra ways to SA, and bonus to initiative and free two weapons fighting. The 15 in warlock to learn as many necromancer spells as he can as he wants to learn the secrets of necromancy but cannot be a wizard so learns every shadow and necro spells he can, and covers his demonic eye and forearm when in cities that frown upon those who are cursed or not of good alignment. It's annoying but they do offer some advantages that ease the burden somewhat as he gains power from his patron he can see things he could not before with his new eye, and his hand though ugly to most does seem unnaturally strong the claws very sharp and they seem as if they could do real damage if he needed in a pinch, and who knows what other uses they will reveal as time goes on and his abilities grow...
My Character
Kerran Ssenkrad
Half elf Warlock 5 (Hex/Chain), Sorcerer 10 (Divine Magic)
Roleplaying wise he's a scary man that used to be on the verge of being a villain and is trying to make himself better man and joined the group because of their heroic reputation. For now he is still trying to keep his scary reputation, and is having trouble trying to be a better person as he doesn’t want to seem weak. The group actually likes his familiar more whom is a cheerfully soul by the name of Kat (I actually roleplay them equally as two separate characters) who loves cookies, song and anything cheerful. They are collectively an odd couple which I have fun roleplay as them being partners.
Tactically Kerrans role is to be a rotationary character (sometimes in the front row, sometimes as an artillerist), our group isn't the best on tactics or crowd control and the way the DM plays a lot of enemies break our lines (lots of Jump, blink ect) so Kerran can fill any role needed. Kat should be our scout but isn’t, she accompanies our scout so kerran and Kat can communicate telepathically.
Stats
AC 21 (26 with Shield), HP 98 (+29 with inspiring speech and Aid)
Str 8, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 13 Cha 20
Cantrips
Booming Blade, Eldritch Blast, Green-Flame Blade, Guidance, Mage Hand, Mind Sliver, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
Meta Magic
Quicken Spell, Subtle spell, Transmute Spell, Twinned Spell, Careful Spell
Spells
Absorb Elements, Healing Word, Aid, See Invisible, Fireball, Banishment, Divination, Greater Invisibility, Polymorph, Commune, Teleportation Circle, Revivify*, Misty Step*, Gift of Alacrity*, Expeditious Retreat*
Hex, Shield, Darkness, Counterspell, Dispel Magic, Hypnotic Pattern
Skills
Deception +10, Intimidation +10, Perception +6, Performance +10, Religion +5, Stealth +7 (A), Thieves Tools +7, Playing Cards +10
I have a magic Flying ship, A magic Rapier that does extra damage to Undead, fey & fiends, and basic gear (+ armor, + 1 shield and ring of protection) and boots of Elven Kind
The rest of the group: a Human Cleric (War), a Human Paladin/Sorcerer (smite DPS), Elven Wizard/Evoker, Halfling Bard/Lore, Half elf Rogue/scout
Check out Tavernpedia 2.0 for info on my roleplay warlock Krathian. His char sheet is in my sig but that hasn't been updated for a while, and he's gone through some changes.
He's a Chain Goolock with street-mage vibes that carries a sword cane and is rarely ever seen without his cephalopod familiar, Q'ilbrith. (He's a homebrew monster called a Q'aba, that looks like a small black octopus with white eyes. It is naturally sentient and can only communicate through telepathy. They are created, not born, by incredibly powerful eldritch horrors as gifts for their favored servants.)
He used to live on my homebrew plane of Mardioch before it died. He exchanged the remainder of his extended life and the ability to sleep for his survival, with the eldritch horror Orvar, aka, the eye in the hand that walks. Orvar is a being of pure thought, and exists solely to gather knowledge for the sake of it. Krathian is his spy. The more knowledge Orvar has, the more power he gains. Orvar is predictably a bookish sort but occasionally uses his knowledge for the good of others ... if he feels like it.
As a mark of his pact with Orvar, Krathian has an eye with a cross-shaped iris set in his left hand.
Hi, I am not a chest. I deny with 100% certainty that I am a chest. I can neither confirm nor deny what I am beyond that.
I used to portray Krathian, Q'ilbrith, Jim, Tara, Turin, Nathan, Tench, Finn, Alvin, and other characters in various taverns.
I also do homebrew, check out my Spells and Magic Items
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons, even death may die"
I'm very excited to play this character. I just made him for a campaign I just joined and even though we have yet to start playing, I really wanna talk about my warlock. Lol.
His name is Zumfir Yealdrin, a wood elf noble who was well known for his paintings.
From young age, Zumfir always found art enjoyable. He would doodle during classes, sketch whatever he saw out his window. His parents found he had a natural talent and decided to have him be trained to master the skill of painting. As he study and grew, Zumfir's paintings become world bound. It was like he took a still image from life itself. The young elf however found that there was no life in his paintings. He found them dull and dry, despite their perfection.
One day he came down with a terrible fever from the stress of his parents wanting him to create endless of perfect paintings to be shown off for their friends and allies. He was bedridden for nearly half a month, tormented by strange visions and nightmares. He would ramble and shout endlessly. Many healers and doctors came to the call of his parents, but none could seem to help the young elf noble. Zumfir's parents believed he would not make it.
A servant noticed one night, Zumfir's room was unusually quiet. As the servant crept closer to the door, pressing their ear to the wood, they could hear their young master whispering and muttering. The sound of a brush dancing vigorously across a surface. Upon further inspection, they found that Zumfir had painted a strange image of a mysterious being.
"Do you like it?" Zumfir asked with a eerie giggle. "Are they not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?"
"Who..who is that Lord Zumfir?" The servant asked.
"Why, my beloved muse. They have given me a new purpose in life, a new beginning. No longer will I have to be restrained in this suffocating mold my parents have put me in. I will create such masterpeices, opening the eyes of many to the hidden world of the beyond the physical realm!" Zumfir shouted with a mad glee, through up his arms.
His family however did not understand what Zumfir was speaking about. They called him mad and to stop this nonsense. To behave.
Zumfir was no longer going to live to his family's expectations. He soon packed his things and left his home to seek out the strange beauty and wonders of the world with the guidance of his muse.
He currently uses a longsword and a whip for battle, surprising with magic when physical strength and cunning isn't going to win the fight.
He made a pact with an Archfey, his arcana being a glass eye he wears hidden behind his rose tinted monocle. I plan on having him do a pact of chain and getting a Quizit familiar that'll he'll name Precious.
(below are some concept sketches of Zumfir. Side note. The "Paintings" in the second and fourth image are not mine. The second panel is from google searches, the fourth is from weeboart.com. This was just to give me an idea on his style change before and after pact was made.)
Long time roleplayer and artist, I enjoy the fantasy world of dragons and magic. It only makes sense I dive into Dungeons and Dragons!
Looking forward to learning the game and making new friends. :)
I remember this character from the art thread, his familiar is Circe right?
Hi, I am not a chest. I deny with 100% certainty that I am a chest. I can neither confirm nor deny what I am beyond that.
I used to portray Krathian, Q'ilbrith, Jim, Tara, Turin, Nathan, Tench, Finn, Alvin, and other characters in various taverns.
I also do homebrew, check out my Spells and Magic Items
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons, even death may die"
YES! Little Circe' is his familiar. Thanks for putting two and two together.
Love this character, he's very cool
Hi, I am not a chest. I deny with 100% certainty that I am a chest. I can neither confirm nor deny what I am beyond that.
I used to portray Krathian, Q'ilbrith, Jim, Tara, Turin, Nathan, Tench, Finn, Alvin, and other characters in various taverns.
I also do homebrew, check out my Spells and Magic Items
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons, even death may die"
Name: Læna Galanodel (aka Bell Silverstone)
Class: Warlock (Celestial)
Race: High Elf
Patron: Vasael, angel of the Raven Queen
Additional references:
-Alisaie Leveilleur (High Elf Paladin) is another PC
-The Witchbe family is the family of fellow PC Malevolence Witchbe (Tiefling Sorcerer)
-The fallen champion of the Raven Queen is fellow PC Novah, who is the daughter of Vasael (Fallen Aasimar Hexblade)
Backstory:
More than a century ago, a high elf was born by the name Bell Galanodel. She was the youngest of three daughters made by Kandor and Frøya Galanodel. Kandor was the cook of house Leveilleur, a knightly house in service of the Fortemps, and Frøya was their gardener. Like elves do, they gave their children their child names: Vell, Dell and Bell. Vell was a great gardener like her mother and Dell a great cook like her father. But their youngest child, Bell, was different. She had fits of rage and tantrums and could neither grow plants or prepare dinner. Her parents and sisters tried their best to raise their daughter well and get her to accept her place and become a good servant to the house of Leveilleur. But nothing they did worked.
At the age of 42, Bell had had enough and she left her home. Not satisfied with her fate in life she headed out to explore the world. But the world was cruel and she managed to get herself captured by Orcs and would surely have been killed but for one trait. Bell was good at two things, absolute savagery and a fierce tongue. The orcs found her tantrums amusing and made her fight other captives, and over time she gained the trust of the small orc raiding party that had captured her. She fought alongside them, learning their language and goring their enemies with bow and sword. Until one night, when all her original capturers had died and after the orcish party had suffered severe losses. She slid the throats of the camp guards and fled.
Having spent nearly three decades with the orcs had forever changed her. It had brought out her worst qualities. Her rage and cruelty. Now entering her seventies she for the first time came upon a human settlement. She was welcomed warmly, since what did the humans have to fear from a single elf? A lot, it would turn out. Bell would ingratiate herself with a group of locals that were fed up with the mayor and learn their names, where they met, and what they talked about. After she had learned all she cared too, she went to the mayor and sold them out. The town imploded on itself and Bell left in the dead of night with a pouch of gold and a new identity. She had asked to be formally adopted by the mayor to get his last name and open doors. To which he had agreed. Her name was now Bell Silverstone.
It is under this name that she would start her career of banditry. Now 78 and running out of gold, Bell came upon a halfling village that was at the outskirts of the territory of the Witchbe family. Though they were intended to be independant and left alone, the Witchbe tax collectors did not agree with this and pressed the halflings for taxes that they could rarely afford. This is where Bell entered the village. At first just a kindly elf pretending to be there to help, she slowly rallied the halflings into a dangerous course. With the help of a local halfling rogue named Lowhill Highvalley, she learned their language and culture and integrated into their daily lives. She nudged and prodded the halflings into banditry. At first to pay the taxes forced upon them. They’d only take what they need, right? But then she pushed further and a greed rose among some of the halflings that she exploited. When the halfling elder, Kebble Greengrass, started to push back, he soon fell ill and died.
After the death of Kebble Greengrass, Bell Silverstone pushed the halflings to name the old rogue Lowhill Highvalley as their new village elder. But he was the leader in name only. As Bell made all the final decisions. This state of affairs continued for about forty years. But eventually things changed. A group of adventurers rose to the occasion of cleaning up the local bandit problem. Most of Bell’s bandits were killed, but some, including Lowhill Highvalley managed to get away. Bell herself escaped as well, with some hastily grabbed treasure and a few scars on her back, arms and legs.
Bell was now 120 and felt like it was time to pick out her adult name. She chose the name Læna. Læna Silverstone reflected on her past and decided that conventional weaponry was no longer going to cut it. While she was in no way a dumb child, she did not care to take the time to learn magic on her own. Among the treasures she had been able to smuggle out during her escape from the adventurers was a scroll that she believed to be able to summon a powerful fiend. Intending to use this scroll to forge a pact with said fiend for power, she performed the ritual. There was however a surprise awaiting her. What she summoned was a celestial. An angel of the Raven Queen named Vasael. Vasael saw an opportunity and took it. The angel intended to enlist the elf as a bridge into the material plane to aid the new champion of the Raven Queen. She forced Læna into a pact and ordered her to hone her new given skills for the forces of good.
When Læna was ready, it was too late though. The planned Champion had fallen from grace and Vasael decided to send Læna home instead. Læna took back her old family name, Læna Galanodel, and returned to house Leveilleur. She was taken back in with open arms by her father and mother. Her sisters, Vell and Dell, who now had the adult names Aranee and Theren respectively, had grown into their roles as servants of house Leveilleur without problem. Not knowing about their daughter’s violent past, her parents pushed her into serving the knightly house as well.
Læna was taken to the Leveilleur family and presented to the leaders of the house on the day a fresh young paladin was sworn into their role. Vasael sensed this as an opportunity and pushed Læna to request to become the young girl’s squire. Showing her skill with divine support magic, and the fact that her family had long been faithful servants of the house, the Leveilleurs agreed. So as Alisaie Leveilleur was sworn in, she was given Læna Galanodel as her personal squire.
Læna would continue to serve the young girl faithfully, and even grew to like the girl, despite her sour disposition. And when the paladin was appointed as bodyguard for a girl from house Fortemps, Læna followed. Though one day, Læna was send away for something stupid. To deliver a letter to the young paladin’s mother. While Læna was away, fate struck and Alisaie lost the life of her charge. The paladin would seek the path of redemption, and though Læna seemingly did not have to follow, she did so anyway. Sticking to Little Aly even closer as before.
I am also here.
Am snek.
My Fiend Warlock thinks his patron is a celestial (his imp familiar is always in raven form).
Edgar is the son of wealthy family. He feels he grew up in the shadow of his sister, Olivia. Olivia was beautiful, academically brilliant and had received a scholership to attend wizard school she was also a master at fencing in fact anything she attempted, at least in Edgar's, mind without even trying she excelled. Edgar became intensely jealous of his sister he thought his parents loved her for her abilities and while they treated him well he always felt as if they were disappointed with him. Edgar would do anything to outdo his sister and while not particularly religious he decided anything was worth trying so he preyed to the Raven Queen promising he would do anything to be more powerful than Olivia. He was answered by an otherworldly creature that said it would grant him powers in excess of what his sister could do if he agreed to serve it. Thinking it was a celestial of the Raven Queen he readily agreed (not knowing it was actually a devil). Sure enough he received magical powers and a familiar that would serve him.
I run two different Paladin/Warlock characters in two separate campaigns.
CHOLKAR: Paladin of Torm and warlock of a Great Old One.
Started as a paladin of Torm. Then he met a dwarf paladin who loaned Cholkar a book on other gods and, through reading it, was contacted by Yad-Thaddag, a Great Old One (and the only Cthulhu-mythos Elder God that is actually benevolent towards Life). Cholkar realized there are truths in addition to Torm's that will help him assist others. His delving into the abilities as a warlock forced to leave his village because he was not "pure" Torm.
GALANDIL: Paladin of Aerdrie Faenya and Hexblade of the Raven Queen, he also deeply honors Vandria Gilmadrith & Corellon.
Raised in Aglarond by his adoptive sun elf "father" and his emerald-eyed Rashemi (human) natural mother. Galandil's mother had been held captive by the shadar-kai then rescued by sun elves of Aglarond. One of her rescuers fell in love with her then married her 2 months after her rescue when she discovered she was 3 months pregnant. She gave birth to Galandil 6 months later.
His partial shadar-kai ancestry gave him innate stealthliness while he gained tough self-reliance from his Rashemaar mother. Raised among sun elves, Galandil grew to worship Aerdrie Faenya & her love of birds though he resisted her more chaotic nature, tempering it with a deep honor of Corellon's protective warrior teachings & Vandria Gilmadrith's Lawful discipline. Such a combination has led Galandil to be described as "somewhat mercurial" (not to mention "bird brain"). His life in Aglarond has bestowed upon him an insatiable love of learning, a desire to wander the world, & a preference for elven weapons & armor. So insatiable is that love that he has virtually memorized the sole possession his mother had stolen from the shadar-kai during her rescue..a book of the Raven Queen.
Yes, I understand this thread is for warlocks but I wanted to show that, with careful thought, the warlock class can easily be combined with other classes to really bring the warlock flavor to a campaign.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"
- Hunter S. Thompson
When life is bleak, all hope is lost, a wall is at your back, you always have one option left...attack! Attack! ATTACK!
- Me