Game: D&D (Edition by choice of DM, I guess) Group preferred: Online Experience: New Location/Timezone: Germany, GMT+1 Availability: Mon/Tue/Wed (until 19:00/7PM)/Thu/Fri/Sat (until 19:00/7PM)/ Sun Preferred role: Player
Hello everyone,
I recently really had the desire to actually start doing this. Play an actual campaign with actual people. So I bought dice, created a character, and then promptly forgot a pandemic is currently happening.
SO since there is most likely not a good way to find a local group to play with, I decided to maybe ask around here. I've taken up the challenge to play a Tiefling Warlock (Hexblade) who I want to actively avoid Eldritch blast with, in order to more closely approach a frontline Caster/Warrior Hybrid.
As the title says, most basic knowledge is there. I am willing to indulge a lot of homebrew or alteration to current "official" rules, because I think everyone is having more fun in a group where you dont constantly get some "Actually ..." guy.
I am therefore now looking for a group of people who are willing to cut me a bit more slack, be supportive and allow for mistakes to happen and urging me on to consistent improvement. So I can get acclimated to the way RP should happen.
As I have put in my latest post, I'd like to reinforce, that I really prefer to play the Warlock. He's the character I Invested most time in, and I'd really like to expand on him during actual play, rather than play make believe with myself just to have to do something with him.
If you are absolutely not interested in the Warlock I have posted here are some different characters I have been playing around with and are trying to hammer out some details for: 1. Half Goliath (Custom Lineage) Fighter who became a performative "Blade Dancer" after falling in love with an elven woman 2. Goliath Rogue who accidently killed her Tribes chieftain in ritual combat and then fled to join a Bandit Group who taught her about the value of family and taking care of each other. 3. Half-Orc Paladin who was left at a temple of a Sect when his parents had to flee from persecution, and was raised into a holy warrior, who was believed by the priests to be the re-incarnation of the god they worshipped, who they believe died in an ancient godswar. 4. A Half-Elf Wizard, born to nobles and diplomats, who choses isolation in nature over the squabbling of civilization, until he receives a letter from home. 5. A Human Sorcerer who was given to a monestary as a child after it was found out, that he receives magic from a dark source (Shadow Magic Sorcerer with Multiclass at level 2 into Death Domain Cleric)
So all in all, the tl;dr is:
New Player Looking for a new campaign Character is set/fix Open to non-official content and adjustments
I'd really like to have a personal talk with a potential DM to evaluate whether I am a good fit, both personally and for their group.
Edit: Adding my Warlocks background because I think it may help to see what I consider to be background story for my characters:
"My life starts in a small town, completely isolated from the surrounding lordship, which meant it was completely self sufficient. We did our own farming, had our own cattle, went hunting in the woods we were granted with when we split from our wardens land. We had a druid to bless the forest, hunters, lumberjacks anything you could need. We were even granted, or rather forced to accept, the right to do our own justice. It was a community of humanoid people. Dwarves, Elves, both wood and high, humans, but only one family of Tieflings. Mine. The Town was led by a "Chief" who was decided by a random poll when an old Chief died, or by their decision, if they chose to retire. I lived there until I was six. Around my 5th birthday a rather big assembly of refugees, fleeing from the war in our old wardens lands, came to our Town. We had always been open to strangers, my parents were accepted without question when they came there 10 years ago. But these refugees, they had a clear dislike, hatred even for Tieflings. Starting with their arrival my family was put through daily verbal attacks. As I approached the midpoint of my 6th year of life, our chief mysteriously died. As tradition had it, the Chief was decided by random, and it fell upon one of the refugees to lead. When a milkmaid was murdered, they jumped quickly to frame my parents. The milkmaid had been decapitated then hidden in the woods to be found by scouts looking for remnants of the war. A lumberjack able to wield an axe and a hunter who knew the surrounding area were easy targets. "Out of respect" the elder let us go with exile, banishing me and my family from our home. My mother knew which direction the lords castle was. We were to go there, make our cases to become subjects. But as we entered his lands we saw the way the war had left the country. Halfway to the nearest city, we were attacked by highwaymen, untrained, but nevertheless better trained than someone swinging his axe at immobile trees, and a hunter only versed in animal anatomy. While they were able to kill the bandits, and protect me, my father quickly died of his wounds, while my mother was suffering an infection that lasted for multiple weeks, slowing our progress to a halt. One day I woke up in camp, and could only find her motionless body. In panic I grabbed what I could, and ran. Down the road, but on the side of the woods, where potential bandits would not recognize a child in the shadows.
I soon arrived in the closest city. Begging to get by I quickly realized that the war had impact beyond the blackened earth that surrounded the major settlements. nobody could share. I quickly sought peers for support and found a rag-tag group of war-orphans, that quickly accepted me. On my 7th birthday I was sneaking around the town square, as the whole city collectively had gathered to watch a public execution. I quickly selected a target, an elderly man in a white robe, who looked too advanced in years to recognize that the street-urchin he just bumped into had stolen his gold. As I returned to our hiding spot, all my friends were gone. instead the old man was there. "I'd like my gold back young man." "What if I dont give it." "I'm sure you know what guards to to thieves."
Blushing, I went to give back the gold I stole, but was startled when I couldnt feel the small pouch, where I definitely felt the weight of hit pulling the fabric of my pocket. The old man laughed. "You stole an illusion young man. You know I am a wizard. Well versed in magic. Well enough versed in Divination to see something in you, I see very seldomly." "A bright future I guess, dying in these alleys like all the urchins do" "No, he said. Nothing. From my Tower I saw this moment over and over, but even the most powerful artifact in my collection could not tell me what your future may hold. I even tried a failsafe, divined a random beggar on the square. His future was as clear as mountain-water. So, call it professional curiosity, but I will make you an offer. Become my apprentice. I will keep you fed, give you a roof over your head. Teach you what I know. Do you want that." Urchins seldomly trust random old men. Some had made, let's call it "unfortunate" experiences when they were given similar offers. But something radiated from that old man, now that he had revealed his nature. A power that seemed to soothe every pain I had felt the last 6 months. I aggreed, collected my things, left a note for my friends, and left with my mentor, Hughgore the Wisened.
His Tower was rather far away, we traveled for at least another month, he asked me about my past, I asked him what a wizard does in a tower this far from civilization. "Study. In my younger days, I took great strides across the land, but when I entered my 7th decade on this plane, I decided to settle down, and finally read all those dusty books I collected. Sometimes I even still practice."
When we arrived I was awestruck. A massive Tower, that even though we had been walking straight at it had somehow been hidden from my sight, was standing inside a rather big clearing of the forest. IT seemed to be made fron a singular piece of white stone, ancient, but not a ruin, more like a well-maintained relic. "This is the Tower of O'malek, he was an Warlock who had bound his patron to the very Tower he resided in, siphoning the power from the being, planning to become whatever his patron had been. A group led by a Paladin and a cleric in days long gone managed to slay O'malek, but eventually died as the now more powerful being in the walls poisoned the air with necrotic magic. I rediscovered the tower, and after a year of research, I managed to cleanse it of the beings presence. It took 77 days and nights of ritualistic casting and 13 concentric runic circles across the entire forest to disperse and banish that thing back to where it came from. Since then I called this place my own. A place to rest after fruitless adventures." Awestruck I could barely take in any more information as he led me through the intricate tower, that seemed way bigger on the inside than outside. At one point we entered a small chamber, barely big enough to fit us and Hughgore pulled out a small pouch as he opened it, he put his hand in. Then his arm up to the elbow. And finally the entire limb went inside. HE fished out a small key and handed it to me. "Your chambers are on the 8th floor, second door, on the second corridor to the right when you take the stairs from the 5th floor up or the 10th floor down."
The first months were utter confusion. The magic Hughgore had cast to make this tower a labyrinth of nonsensical hallways stairs and rooms made it hard to remember anything. sometimes you entered a room on the third floor and ended up in a bathroom on the 9th, and upon leaving found yourself outside the front entrance. After settling in the training started. To say I was utterly useless would have been praise. THe smallest feats of the tiniest magic took me days to accomplish, and sometimes only once at all. 10 years of this training had left me with almost no knowledge. I spent days sometimes weeks in arguments with Hughgore, on whether he even wanted me as an apprentice, when I was such a collosal failure and everytime I felt aweful, because I knew very well, that even just a year in, he had considered me a son. Part of a family he never had. He once told me of an old flame. An enchantress of a far-away land he had a week of romance with before she disappeared without a trace. he had spent years searching for her, but gave up when his efforts had led him in a circle at least 5 times. He never moved past that. I was who he had chosen to be his family, his protege. He always assured me, that he didnt care, and while a single look into his eyes confirmed it, in the furthest reaches of his mind, I sensed a sadness, about how he wouldnt be able to keep his knowledge and skill alive.
My story truly begins, on the night of my 17th birthday. After an especially heated argument, Hughgore had sent me to my chambers. I think I was too harsh on him back then. It seemed that even his ambient magic, cast on the tower was weakening from how betrayed he must have felt from his chosen son second guessing whether he should have ever been adopted. I found my chambers, and laid down to sleep. But awoke when a "voice" started putting thoughts into my head. It wasnt really a voice. More like, thoughts I havent thought, voiceless actually, just words that seemed to appear in my subconscious. "Poor old man. Dying without a son. Noone to bear his name, noone to bear his knowledge. Noone to rely on. Only a useless street urchin, eating his food and questioning his decisions, with absolutely no magical talent" It was like the worst of my feelings were forced into words and thrust upon me. "And now he takes his last breath, knowing you will never be this towers true owner." I bolted up. "Last Breath" that couldnt be. I hurried up the stairs. The Tower was barely, if at all, still mangling itself into a labyrinth, it was as straight as it had never been. As I arrived at the door to his quarters, I didnt even knock. All I heard when I entered, was the arcane whirring his room had been known for. Instruments and artifacts realizing their power into a perceivable hum. I tested his pulse, and for a second my breath and pulse stopped. The voice was right. HE wasnt breathing anymore. Desperate, I cast what little spells I thought could help. I took his spellbook and tried, over and over, to do something to bring him back. But nothing.
The next few minutes were a blurr. I remember running down the stairs, tumbling on them multible times, bruising myself, maybe even breaking a bone. The next thing I clearly remember, is waking up in a different clearing. I knew I was about a mile north of the tower. I ran so much? How late was it? I couldnt tell. The "Voice" returned then and there. "See what your incompetence has brought you. A dead father, a dead mentor, and nothing to show for it. Not one useful skill." Those were cold words. They almost felt like they had torn into my brain like frostburn. Then they softened, as if to lull me. "But dear child, there is a way to still honor the man. Follow my instructions, and I shall grant you magical knowledge. Maybe not the one your master wished for you to wield. But magic nonetheless." What happened next was hard to describe. Pictures of what to do, how to please the voice just appeared in my mind. A piece of paper on the ground, me piercing a finger with the small knife that suddenly appeared on my belt. ME pressing my finger to the paper and speaking a sentence in a language I didnt understand. But the guilt, the regret, the seething feeling of having failed at everything. They didnt let me see clearly that I was turning myself in to a terrible future. I still did it though.
The second I finished the chant. My mind went blank again. When I awakened, I laid infront of a mausoleum. A black and white spotted cat was there, piercing red eyes directed towards me. I didnt hear the "voice" anymore, but felt a connection, stronger than any I had before, to that cat. I went into the grave and immediatly spotted an open coffin. Inside were items that my subconscious knew were granted to me, and expected of me to use.
A black and red robe, made from a foreign material. It seemed way to big at first, but as I slipped out of my garments and into the robe, they seemed to straighten and adapt to my form, as if magically forced to fit me. A dagger seemingly of elvish make, but not at all clearly. I tested it on one of the bones there. it cut straight into the bone a good 20% from even just slight pressure. And of course. The centerpiece. A Scythe. But not of normal make. Where you'd usually find a metal blade, there was a blade made of red gemstone, fastened to an almost black handle by a dark brown leathery material.
That's when I heard the voice for the last time. "This is my most powerful artifact. As you evolve it will evolve with you. Become stronger. Until you are worthy of your mentors heritage. Until you have proven yourself a wielder of powerful magic. Our contract, I know you didnt understand it. Didnt know what I did. You dont even know who, or what I am. Usually your patron would demand of you things to maintain your power. "Kill some people", "Have sex with things", "Pay me in gold" I am not like this. All I expect from you, is to travel the land, collect experiences, and become strong. Establish yourself. Become known. When the time for meaningful actions comes, I will return for my due."
Then my head went quiet. Finally all I felt before could vent out. I cried. For hours, until sunrise. After I had left for the closest town, I realized the cat followed me. I called him "Gore" in memory of my mentor. I felt that part of the voices essence resided in gore. I couldnt care less about that. IT was like my soul was linked with him. Since then I have tried establishing myself as a mercenary. Mostly in the underground, doing dirty work for cartells and shady guilds and organizations. but occassionally an interesting bounty may come in, and then I'd do work for the law. Bring in prisoners, kill bandits. But I never stayed in a lordship longer than a month. "Travel the land" the voice had said.
I am writing this down, now on my 22nd birthday, to make sure, i still remember. I do this every year. burn the piece of paper after. I must make sure I remember, but I dont need a constant reminder"
Aww don’t be sad I’m considering taking on another group I’d like to talk with you about joining message me on discord Masquerade#1335 if your interested
I have been busy with work this recent month, so I'm sorry I didnt check in.
I'm currently away from home, but I'm gonna get in contact when I get back monday.
I've considered that spreading out into multiple potential characters may get me more access to groups so I also created a Human Fighter with a religious background being a Warrior-Priest for Tyr who only recently due to some political happenings at his Temple was able to leave far enough to even participate in any kind of society not indoctrinated.
Really hope we can make either that or my Warlock happen. If not I'm always open to modify those two into something more fitting or easy to organize, or create a new characte all together as long as it's helpful to get me into a group
Hello, I think my game might work for you. PS, I could change it so the starting level is 1
WELCOME ADVENTURERS
My name is Fredrick Dunlap. I am a map maker, and my latest goal is to map out the entirety of an underground cave known as The Chasm. It's a hole in the ground that goes on for nobody knows how long located on Broken Shard Island, a land mass that appeared one hundred and twenty nine years ago.
The island itself is a bustling metropolis at this point due to the sheer quantity of people who wish to dive deep into The Chasm's depths.
Why do I need adventurers you ask? Because The Chasm is full of monsters, evil sorcerers and people who are there for lawlessness it brings. Above all of those though, there is one quirk to exploring its depths. The Curse of Elysium.
The curse is a terrible thing that constantly effects anyone who goes inside. While devices have been created to deal with those effects, they are only temporary. Below are how long they last on each floor, and what the consequences are for not using one of the devices known as a Filicider.
Floor 1: Nausea and motion sickness that gets worse the closer to floor 2 you get. Game effect. All dice rolls are lowered by 1, and it is impossible to get a critical hit, as well as critical failures happen on rolls 2 or lower. The Filicider loses 1 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 2: Your skin slowly gets softer, allowing for someone with their bare hands to easily tear it off of your body. Game Effect. All attacks done against you use dice one size higher for damage. The Filicider loses 5 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 3: The bones in your body begin to become frail, even one simple fall could be enough to break bones. Game effect. Every time you take damage, you lose one point of permanent hp, and your speed is lowered by 1. This can be undone at a shop on the surface. The Filicider loses 10 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 4: The mind begins to play tricks on you. Game effect. Sometimes you will see illusions, as well as all attacks do 1d4 of psychic damage to you. The Filicider loses 20 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 5 +: Unknown. The only people who go down that far have yet to share any information.
While I know that many of you are unwilling to risk your lives, I promise that those of you who accept the challenge will be well compensated.
As for what you will be required to do. You will be required to provide your own gear, including any Filiciders, and then protect me as I delve down the depths to map out the entire chasm.
To better prepare you for what lies ahead, I will now briefly describe the first four floors as best I can.
Floor 1: It is a set of floating islands that are attached to the backs of large monsters. Grappling hooks and other such gear will be needed to traverse from island to island.
Floor 2: The entire area is rock, with magma underneath it. This makes the environment exceedingly difficult to navigate, and hot to move though. A high constitution will be needed in order to withstand its depths, or a potion that can be bought on the surface.
Floor 3: This floor seems to have been at one a lovely city, but has now nothing more than rubble.
Floor 4: This floor is seemingly some sort of crypt, with bones embedded into the very rocks you'll be stepping on, as well as entire structures down there made out of stone.
Now, what's in it for you brave adventurers. First off, once I am finished with my map, I will provide each and every one of you 1,000,000 gold pieces. In addition, you'll be allowed to keep any magical artifacts and armor that you find down there. However, to ensure you don't run away, you'll be forced into a blood contract that will only expire when I'm finished, or when you've met an untimely end.
Thank you for your interest. Please message below or contact my discord if you're interested.
Rules
The players will start at level 5 with 500 gold to start with that they can use to buy items. I will provide a list of items as well as their corresponding prices.
I reserve the right to change any rules at any time for any reason. I won't do this for dumb reasons, only if something breaks and I want to change how something works
No totem barbarians
No pass without trace.
This will be a roleplay heavy game with combat mixed in.
I must approve all character sheets at the start and upon level up.
Must Include a backstory. I don't need anything extreme, but enough that I can work it into the story. If you are unable to do this then please do not message me.
You will be required to pass a RP test. Basically a quick little test that should last about an hour and will test your ability to roleplay, as this is a roleplay heavy section.
I dunno that just doesnt hit me right. There are already like hard rules to make the game more difficult which I am not in the right mindset yet to do. Also it hits wrong to have my first adventure basically laid out as something that looks like a preset campaign.
Dont get me wrong it seems ok to do for experienced groups made of experienced people which, simply, I am not. And while I get the desire/need to vet people before allowing them in, it feels like if it's said outright, I will be put in an audition. I'm looking for the more casual stuff.
In hopes that maybe you take a liking to my Warlock this is roughly the background I imagined:
"My life starts in a small town, completely isolated from the surrounding lordship, which meant it was completely self sufficient. We did our own farming, had our own cattle, went hunting in the woods we were granted with when we split from our wardens land. We had a druid to bless the forest, hunters, lumberjacks anything you could need. We were even granted, or rather forced to accept, the right to do our own justice. It was a community of humanoid people. Dwarves, Elves, both wood and high, humans, but only one family of Tieflings. Mine. The Town was led by a "Chief" who was decided by a random poll when an old Chief died, or by their decision, if they chose to retire. I lived there until I was six. Around my 5th birthday a rather big assembly of refugees, fleeing from the war in our old wardens lands, came to our Town. We had always been open to strangers, my parents were accepted without question when they came there 10 years ago. But these refugees, they had a clear dislike, hatred even for Tieflings. Starting with their arrival my family was put through daily verbal attacks. As I approached the midpoint of my 6th year of life, our chief mysteriously died. As tradition had it, the Chief was decided by random, and it fell upon one of the refugees to lead. When a milkmaid was murdered, they jumped quickly to frame my parents. The milkmaid had been decapitated then hidden in the woods to be found by scouts looking for remnants of the war. A lumberjack able to wield an axe and a hunter who knew the surrounding area were easy targets. "Out of respect" the elder let us go with exile, banishing me and my family from our home. My mother knew which direction the lords castle was. We were to go there, make our cases to become subjects. But as we entered his lands we saw the way the war had left the country. Halfway to the nearest city, we were attacked by highwaymen, untrained, but nevertheless better trained than someone swinging his axe at immobile trees, and a hunter only versed in animal anatomy. While they were able to kill the bandits, and protect me, my father quickly died of his wounds, while my mother was suffering an infection that lasted for multiple weeks, slowing our progress to a halt. One day I woke up in camp, and could only find her motionless body. In panic I grabbed what I could, and ran. Down the road, but on the side of the woods, where potential bandits would not recognize a child in the shadows.
I soon arrived in the closest city. Begging to get by I quickly realized that the war had impact beyond the blackened earth that surrounded the major settlements. nobody could share. I quickly sought peers for support and found a rag-tag group of war-orphans, that quickly accepted me. On my 7th birthday I was sneaking around the town square, as the whole city collectively had gathered to watch a public execution. I quickly selected a target, an elderly man in a white robe, who looked too advanced in years to recognize that the street-urchin he just bumped into had stolen his gold. As I returned to our hiding spot, all my friends were gone. instead the old man was there. "I'd like my gold back young man." "What if I dont give it." "I'm sure you know what guards to to thieves."
Blushing, I went to give back the gold I stole, but was startled when I couldnt feel the small pouch, where I definitely felt the weight of hit pulling the fabric of my pocket. The old man laughed. "You stole an illusion young man. You know I am a wizard. Well versed in magic. Well enough versed in Divination to see something in you, I see very seldomly." "A bright future I guess, dying in these alleys like all the urchins do" "No, he said. Nothing. From my Tower I saw this moment over and over, but even the most powerful artifact in my collection could not tell me what your future may hold. I even tried a failsafe, divined a random beggar on the square. His future was as clear as mountain-water. So, call it professional curiosity, but I will make you an offer. Become my apprentice. I will keep you fed, give you a roof over your head. Teach you what I know. Do you want that." Urchins seldomly trust random old men. Some had made, let's call it "unfortunate" experiences when they were given similar offers. But something radiated from that old man, now that he had revealed his nature. A power that seemed to soothe every pain I had felt the last 6 months. I aggreed, collected my things, left a note for my friends, and left with my mentor, Hughgore the Wisened.
His Tower was rather far away, we traveled for at least another month, he asked me about my past, I asked him what a wizard does in a tower this far from civilization. "Study. In my younger days, I took great strides across the land, but when I entered my 7th decade on this plane, I decided to settle down, and finally read all those dusty books I collected. Sometimes I even still practice."
When we arrived I was awestruck. A massive Tower, that even though we had been walking straight at it had somehow been hidden from my sight, was standing inside a rather big clearing of the forest. IT seemed to be made fron a singular piece of white stone, ancient, but not a ruin, more like a well-maintained relic. "This is the Tower of O'malek, he was an Warlock who had bound his patron to the very Tower he resided in, siphoning the power from the being, planning to become whatever his patron had been. A group led by a Paladin and a cleric in days long gone managed to slay O'malek, but eventually died as the now more powerful being in the walls poisoned the air with necrotic magic. I rediscovered the tower, and after a year of research, I managed to cleanse it of the beings presence. It took 77 days and nights of ritualistic casting and 13 concentric runic circles across the entire forest to disperse and banish that thing back to where it came from. Since then I called this place my own. A place to rest after fruitless adventures." Awestruck I could barely take in any more information as he led me through the intricate tower, that seemed way bigger on the inside than outside. At one point we entered a small chamber, barely big enough to fit us and Hughgore pulled out a small pouch as he opened it, he put his hand in. Then his arm up to the elbow. And finally the entire limb went inside. HE fished out a small key and handed it to me. "Your chambers are on the 8th floor, second door, on the second corridor to the right when you take the stairs from the 5th floor up or the 10th floor down."
The first months were utter confusion. The magic Hughgore had cast to make this tower a labyrinth of nonsensical hallways stairs and rooms made it hard to remember anything. sometimes you entered a room on the third floor and ended up in a bathroom on the 9th, and upon leaving found yourself outside the front entrance. After settling in the training started. To say I was utterly useless would have been praise. THe smallest feats of the tiniest magic took me days to accomplish, and sometimes only once at all. 10 years of this training had left me with almost no knowledge. I spent days sometimes weeks in arguments with Hughgore, on whether he even wanted me as an apprentice, when I was such a collosal failure and everytime I felt aweful, because I knew very well, that even just a year in, he had considered me a son. Part of a family he never had. He once told me of an old flame. An enchantress of a far-away land he had a week of romance with before she disappeared without a trace. he had spent years searching for her, but gave up when his efforts had led him in a circle at least 5 times. He never moved past that. I was who he had chosen to be his family, his protege. He always assured me, that he didnt care, and while a single look into his eyes confirmed it, in the furthest reaches of his mind, I sensed a sadness, about how he wouldnt be able to keep his knowledge and skill alive.
My story truly begins, on the night of my 17th birthday. After an especially heated argument, Hughgore had sent me to my chambers. I think I was too harsh on him back then. It seemed that even his ambient magic, cast on the tower was weakening from how betrayed he must have felt from his chosen son second guessing whether he should have ever been adopted. I found my chambers, and laid down to sleep. But awoke when a "voice" started putting thoughts into my head. It wasnt really a voice. More like, thoughts I havent thought, voiceless actually, just words that seemed to appear in my subconscious. "Poor old man. Dying without a son. Noone to bear his name, noone to bear his knowledge. Noone to rely on. Only a useless street urchin, eating his food and questioning his decisions, with absolutely no magical talent" It was like the worst of my feelings were forced into words and thrust upon me. "And now he takes his last breath, knowing you will never be this towers true owner." I bolted up. "Last Breath" that couldnt be. I hurried up the stairs. The Tower was barely, if at all, still mangling itself into a labyrinth, it was as straight as it had never been. As I arrived at the door to his quarters, I didnt even knock. All I heard when I entered, was the arcane whirring his room had been known for. Instruments and artifacts realizing their power into a perceivable hum. I tested his pulse, and for a second my breath and pulse stopped. The voice was right. HE wasnt breathing anymore. Desperate, I cast what little spells I thought could help. I took his spellbook and tried, over and over, to do something to bring him back. But nothing.
The next few minutes were a blurr. I remember running down the stairs, tumbling on them multible times, bruising myself, maybe even breaking a bone. The next thing I clearly remember, is waking up in a different clearing. I knew I was about a mile north of the tower. I ran so much? How late was it? I couldnt tell. The "Voice" returned then and there. "See what your incompetence has brought you. A dead father, a dead mentor, and nothing to show for it. Not one useful skill." Those were cold words. They almost felt like they had torn into my brain like frostburn. Then they softened, as if to lull me. "But dear child, there is a way to still honor the man. Follow my instructions, and I shall grant you magical knowledge. Maybe not the one your master wished for you to wield. But magic nonetheless." What happened next was hard to describe. Pictures of what to do, how to please the voice just appeared in my mind. A piece of paper on the ground, me piercing a finger with the small knife that suddenly appeared on my belt. ME pressing my finger to the paper and speaking a sentence in a language I didnt understand. But the guilt, the regret, the seething feeling of having failed at everything. They didnt let me see clearly that I was turning myself in to a terrible future. I still did it though.
The second I finished the chant. My mind went blank again. When I awakened, I laid infront of a mausoleum. A black and white spotted cat was there, piercing red eyes directed towards me. I didnt hear the "voice" anymore, but felt a connection, stronger than any I had before, to that cat. I went into the grave and immediatly spotted an open coffin. Inside were items that my subconscious knew were granted to me, and expected of me to use.
A black and red robe, made from a foreign material. It seemed way to big at first, but as I slipped out of my garments and into the robe, they seemed to straighten and adapt to my form, as if magically forced to fit me. A dagger seemingly of elvish make, but not at all clearly. I tested it on one of the bones there. it cut straight into the bone a good 20% from even just slight pressure. And of course. The centerpiece. A Scythe. But not of normal make. Where you'd usually find a metal blade, there was a blade made of red gemstone, fastened to an almost black handle by a dark brown leathery material.
That's when I heard the voice for the last time. "This is my most powerful artifact. As you evolve it will evolve with you. Become stronger. Until you are worthy of your mentors heritage. Until you have proven yourself a wielder of powerful magic. Our contract, I know you didnt understand it. Didnt know what I did. You dont even know who, or what I am. Usually your patron would demand of you things to maintain your power. "Kill some people", "Have sex with things", "Pay me in gold" I am not like this. All I expect from you, is to travel the land, collect experiences, and become strong. Establish yourself. Become known. When the time for meaningful actions comes, I will return for my due."
Then my head went quiet. Finally all I felt before could vent out. I cried. For hours, until sunrise. After I had left for the closest town, I realized the cat followed me. I called him "Gore" in memory of my mentor. I felt that part of the voices essence resided in gore. I couldnt care less about that. IT was like my soul was linked with him. Since then I have tried establishing myself as a mercenary. Mostly in the underground, doing dirty work for cartells and shady guilds and organizations. but occassionally an interesting bounty may come in, and then I'd do work for the law. Bring in prisoners, kill bandits. But I never stayed in a lordship longer than a month. "Travel the land" the voice had said.
I am writing this down, now on my 22nd birthday, to make sure, i still remember. I do this every year. burn the piece of paper after. I must make sure I remember, but I dont need a constant reminder"
Additionally I have simmered over a potential homebrew for the "Bloodgem Scythe":
1. The Scythe unlocks power as your level and arcane knowledge grows: at each level up roll a DC 15 Arcana Check, if you succeed the next level of effect is activated on the Scythe:
2. The levels of effect are as followed:
Always unlocked: Adapting to your style of combat, True Strike has adapted to your arcane efficiancy and can now also affect spell attacks True Strike has become such a staple of your combat style, the Scythe has inherited this Spell and it can be cast at all times without expending a Spell Slot
Level 2: As you continue to spell doom for your enemies, True Strike has become 2nd nature to you, and can now be cast as a bonus action. If used this way, you attack with advantage but cannot crit
level 3: Your spells grow in power and True Strike no longer hinders you from unleashing your spells full potential: you can now crit, even when using True Strike as a bonus action
level 4: Your Nature has now seeped into the gem. As a Tiefling, if you chose to cast True Strike as a full action, you can now use an enhanced Thaumaturgy as a bonus action: 4.1. Thaumaturgy: you can now activate the maximum amount of 3 effects at once. If your enemy fails a wisdom saving throw against your spell DC, a random fear based effect takes place 4.2 Random Fear based effect: DM rolls a d6 for: 6 - the enemy is paralyzed by the fear of your potential supernatural power 5/4 - the enemy has become unsettled by your display the action enhanced by True Strike hits with +1 3/2 - base fear effect: the enemy takes their full movement to run away from you 1 - (Fail) the enemy is afraid but that makes them more perceptive, the bonus from True Strike is lost.
Level 5: Your enhanced Thaumaturgys fear effect can no longer fail and a 1 now counts the same as 3/2
Just to repeat, none of the material I posted here needs to be accepted as is or needs to be part of the campaign I end up grouping with, it's just an example I've created because it's a character I've thought about when I first posted this.
After 2 Sessions with a campaign, I was quite suddenly removed due to mistakes on my part, that even after a long-winded discussion, seemed to have broken the DMs trust in me (as a player) to be properly integrated into his campaign.
Even though I am seriously disappointed, that I was not given one last session to prove, that I was dedicated to improving myself, I can accept a DMs total power over the story.
So I would now be available for someone else to take a chance on me. I'd like to keep playing the character I have started, even though I will try to change how certain characteristics are expressed within that characters RP to make sure I dont make the same mistakes again.
I recently acquired the PHB and decided to get more ressources every month to steadily grow my available source material, prioritizing character options (planing to get Xanathars next)
The Character I'd be playing would be a Tiefling/Hexblade Warlock with the specific restriction of not using eldritch blast (to make sure I dont become just another Eldritch Blast Spammer)
I'd like to keep the Ability Rolls I made within that other campaign, but am willing to reroll, if you have rules about upper and lower limits on these rolls.
I have reworked my Bloodgem Scythe Homebrew, to be less of a complex Homebrew about getting modified Spells at certain levels, I have, actually, decided to abandon True Strike in the Homebrew completely, since I have realized trying to make it work as a viable spell is more work than it's worth and also hard to balance.
Instead my Scythe would simply be a Homebrew Spear that I can choose to deal piercing or slashing damage with, preserving the dice used to roll damage (1d6 one handed, 1d8 two handed (Versatile)) TO preserve it's meaning as a melee Weapon though I have removed the "Thrown" Property
It also takes one Attunement Slot and acts as a Spellcasting Focus
Game: D&D (Edition by choice of DM, I guess)
Group preferred: Online
Experience: New
Location/Timezone: Germany, GMT+1
Availability: Mon/Tue/Wed (until 19:00/7PM)/Thu/Fri/Sat (until 19:00/7PM)/ Sun
Preferred role: Player
Hello everyone,
I recently really had the desire to actually start doing this. Play an actual campaign with actual people. So I bought dice, created a character, and then promptly forgot a pandemic is currently happening.
SO since there is most likely not a good way to find a local group to play with, I decided to maybe ask around here.
I've taken up the challenge to play a Tiefling Warlock (Hexblade) who I want to actively avoid Eldritch blast with, in order to more closely approach a frontline Caster/Warrior Hybrid.
As the title says, most basic knowledge is there. I am willing to indulge a lot of homebrew or alteration to current "official" rules, because I think everyone is having more fun in a group where you dont constantly get some "Actually ..." guy.
I am therefore now looking for a group of people who are willing to cut me a bit more slack, be supportive and allow for mistakes to happen and urging me on to consistent improvement. So I can get acclimated to the way RP should happen.
As I have put in my latest post, I'd like to reinforce, that I really prefer to play the Warlock. He's the character I Invested most time in, and I'd really like to expand on him during actual play, rather than play make believe with myself just to have to do something with him.
If you are absolutely not interested in the Warlock I have posted here are some different characters I have been playing around with and are trying to hammer out some details for:
1. Half Goliath (Custom Lineage) Fighter who became a performative "Blade Dancer" after falling in love with an elven woman
2. Goliath Rogue who accidently killed her Tribes chieftain in ritual combat and then fled to join a Bandit Group who taught her about the value of family and taking care of each other.
3. Half-Orc Paladin who was left at a temple of a Sect when his parents had to flee from persecution, and was raised into a holy warrior, who was believed by the priests to be the re-incarnation of the god they worshipped, who they believe died in an ancient godswar.
4. A Half-Elf Wizard, born to nobles and diplomats, who choses isolation in nature over the squabbling of civilization, until he receives a letter from home.
5. A Human Sorcerer who was given to a monestary as a child after it was found out, that he receives magic from a dark source (Shadow Magic Sorcerer with Multiclass at level 2 into Death Domain Cleric)
So all in all, the tl;dr is:
New Player
Looking for a new campaign
Character is set/fix
Open to non-official content and adjustments
I'd really like to have a personal talk with a potential DM to evaluate whether I am a good fit, both personally and for their group.
Edit:
Adding my Warlocks background because I think it may help to see what I consider to be background story for my characters:
"My life starts in a small town, completely isolated from the surrounding lordship, which meant it was completely self sufficient.
We did our own farming, had our own cattle, went hunting in the woods we were granted with when we split from our wardens land. We had a druid to bless the forest, hunters, lumberjacks anything you could need. We were even granted, or rather forced to accept, the right to do our own justice.
It was a community of humanoid people. Dwarves, Elves, both wood and high, humans, but only one family of Tieflings. Mine.
The Town was led by a "Chief" who was decided by a random poll when an old Chief died, or by their decision, if they chose to retire. I lived there until I was six.
Around my 5th birthday a rather big assembly of refugees, fleeing from the war in our old wardens lands, came to our Town. We had always been open to strangers, my parents were accepted without question when they came there 10 years ago. But these refugees, they had a clear dislike, hatred even for Tieflings. Starting with their arrival my family was put through daily verbal attacks. As I approached the midpoint of my 6th year of life, our chief mysteriously died. As tradition had it, the Chief was decided by random, and it fell upon one of the refugees to lead.
When a milkmaid was murdered, they jumped quickly to frame my parents. The milkmaid had been decapitated then hidden in the woods to be found by scouts looking for remnants of the war. A lumberjack able to wield an axe and a hunter who knew the surrounding area were easy targets. "Out of respect" the elder let us go with exile, banishing me and my family from our home. My mother knew which direction the lords castle was. We were to go there, make our cases to become subjects. But as we entered his lands we saw the way the war had left the country. Halfway to the nearest city, we were attacked by highwaymen, untrained, but nevertheless better trained than someone swinging his axe at immobile trees, and a hunter only versed in animal anatomy.
While they were able to kill the bandits, and protect me, my father quickly died of his wounds, while my mother was suffering an infection that lasted for multiple weeks, slowing our progress to a halt. One day I woke up in camp, and could only find her motionless body. In panic I grabbed what I could, and ran. Down the road, but on the side of the woods, where potential bandits would not recognize a child in the shadows.
I soon arrived in the closest city. Begging to get by I quickly realized that the war had impact beyond the blackened earth that surrounded the major settlements. nobody could share. I quickly sought peers for support and found a rag-tag group of war-orphans, that quickly accepted me. On my 7th birthday I was sneaking around the town square, as the whole city collectively had gathered to watch a public execution. I quickly selected a target, an elderly man in a white robe, who looked too advanced in years to recognize that the street-urchin he just bumped into had stolen his gold.
As I returned to our hiding spot, all my friends were gone. instead the old man was there.
"I'd like my gold back young man."
"What if I dont give it."
"I'm sure you know what guards to to thieves."
Blushing, I went to give back the gold I stole, but was startled when I couldnt feel the small pouch, where I definitely felt the weight of hit pulling the fabric of my pocket.
The old man laughed.
"You stole an illusion young man. You know I am a wizard. Well versed in magic. Well enough versed in Divination to see something in you, I see very seldomly."
"A bright future I guess, dying in these alleys like all the urchins do"
"No, he said. Nothing. From my Tower I saw this moment over and over, but even the most powerful artifact in my collection could not tell me what your future may hold. I even tried a failsafe, divined a random beggar on the square. His future was as clear as mountain-water. So, call it professional curiosity, but I will make you an offer. Become my apprentice. I will keep you fed, give you a roof over your head. Teach you what I know. Do you want that."
Urchins seldomly trust random old men. Some had made, let's call it "unfortunate" experiences when they were given similar offers.
But something radiated from that old man, now that he had revealed his nature. A power that seemed to soothe every pain I had felt the last 6 months.
I aggreed, collected my things, left a note for my friends, and left with my mentor, Hughgore the Wisened.
His Tower was rather far away, we traveled for at least another month, he asked me about my past, I asked him what a wizard does in a tower this far from civilization.
"Study. In my younger days, I took great strides across the land, but when I entered my 7th decade on this plane, I decided to settle down, and finally read all those dusty books I collected. Sometimes I even still practice."
When we arrived I was awestruck. A massive Tower, that even though we had been walking straight at it had somehow been hidden from my sight, was standing inside a rather big clearing of the forest. IT seemed to be made fron a singular piece of white stone, ancient, but not a ruin, more like a well-maintained relic.
"This is the Tower of O'malek, he was an Warlock who had bound his patron to the very Tower he resided in, siphoning the power from the being, planning to become whatever his patron had been. A group led by a Paladin and a cleric in days long gone managed to slay O'malek, but eventually died as the now more powerful being in the walls poisoned the air with necrotic magic. I rediscovered the tower, and after a year of research, I managed to cleanse it of the beings presence. It took 77 days and nights of ritualistic casting and 13 concentric runic circles across the entire forest to disperse and banish that thing back to where it came from. Since then I called this place my own. A place to rest after fruitless adventures."
Awestruck I could barely take in any more information as he led me through the intricate tower, that seemed way bigger on the inside than outside.
At one point we entered a small chamber, barely big enough to fit us and Hughgore pulled out a small pouch as he opened it, he put his hand in. Then his arm up to the elbow. And finally the entire limb went inside. HE fished out a small key and handed it to me.
"Your chambers are on the 8th floor, second door, on the second corridor to the right when you take the stairs from the 5th floor up or the 10th floor down."
The first months were utter confusion. The magic Hughgore had cast to make this tower a labyrinth of nonsensical hallways stairs and rooms made it hard to remember anything. sometimes you entered a room on the third floor and ended up in a bathroom on the 9th, and upon leaving found yourself outside the front entrance.
After settling in the training started. To say I was utterly useless would have been praise. THe smallest feats of the tiniest magic took me days to accomplish, and sometimes only once at all. 10 years of this training had left me with almost no knowledge. I spent days sometimes weeks in arguments with Hughgore, on whether he even wanted me as an apprentice, when I was such a collosal failure and everytime I felt aweful, because I knew very well, that even just a year in, he had considered me a son. Part of a family he never had. He once told me of an old flame. An enchantress of a far-away land he had a week of romance with before she disappeared without a trace. he had spent years searching for her, but gave up when his efforts had led him in a circle at least 5 times. He never moved past that. I was who he had chosen to be his family, his protege. He always assured me, that he didnt care, and while a single look into his eyes confirmed it, in the furthest reaches of his mind, I sensed a sadness, about how he wouldnt be able to keep his knowledge and skill alive.
My story truly begins, on the night of my 17th birthday. After an especially heated argument, Hughgore had sent me to my chambers. I think I was too harsh on him back then. It seemed that even his ambient magic, cast on the tower was weakening from how betrayed he must have felt from his chosen son second guessing whether he should have ever been adopted.
I found my chambers, and laid down to sleep. But awoke when a "voice" started putting thoughts into my head. It wasnt really a voice. More like, thoughts I havent thought, voiceless actually, just words that seemed to appear in my subconscious.
"Poor old man. Dying without a son. Noone to bear his name, noone to bear his knowledge. Noone to rely on. Only a useless street urchin, eating his food and questioning his decisions, with absolutely no magical talent"
It was like the worst of my feelings were forced into words and thrust upon me.
"And now he takes his last breath, knowing you will never be this towers true owner."
I bolted up. "Last Breath" that couldnt be. I hurried up the stairs. The Tower was barely, if at all, still mangling itself into a labyrinth, it was as straight as it had never been. As I arrived at the door to his quarters, I didnt even knock. All I heard when I entered, was the arcane whirring his room had been known for. Instruments and artifacts realizing their power into a perceivable hum. I tested his pulse, and for a second my breath and pulse stopped. The voice was right. HE wasnt breathing anymore. Desperate, I cast what little spells I thought could help. I took his spellbook and tried, over and over, to do something to bring him back. But nothing.
The next few minutes were a blurr. I remember running down the stairs, tumbling on them multible times, bruising myself, maybe even breaking a bone.
The next thing I clearly remember, is waking up in a different clearing. I knew I was about a mile north of the tower. I ran so much? How late was it? I couldnt tell.
The "Voice" returned then and there.
"See what your incompetence has brought you. A dead father, a dead mentor, and nothing to show for it. Not one useful skill."
Those were cold words. They almost felt like they had torn into my brain like frostburn.
Then they softened, as if to lull me.
"But dear child, there is a way to still honor the man. Follow my instructions, and I shall grant you magical knowledge. Maybe not the one your master wished for you to wield. But magic nonetheless."
What happened next was hard to describe. Pictures of what to do, how to please the voice just appeared in my mind.
A piece of paper on the ground, me piercing a finger with the small knife that suddenly appeared on my belt. ME pressing my finger to the paper and speaking a sentence in a language I didnt understand. But the guilt, the regret, the seething feeling of having failed at everything. They didnt let me see clearly that I was turning myself in to a terrible future.
I still did it though.
The second I finished the chant. My mind went blank again. When I awakened, I laid infront of a mausoleum. A black and white spotted cat was there, piercing red eyes directed towards me. I didnt hear the "voice" anymore, but felt a connection, stronger than any I had before, to that cat. I went into the grave and immediatly spotted an open coffin.
Inside were items that my subconscious knew were granted to me, and expected of me to use.
A black and red robe, made from a foreign material. It seemed way to big at first, but as I slipped out of my garments and into the robe, they seemed to straighten and adapt to my form, as if magically forced to fit me.
A dagger seemingly of elvish make, but not at all clearly. I tested it on one of the bones there. it cut straight into the bone a good 20% from even just slight pressure.
And of course. The centerpiece. A Scythe. But not of normal make. Where you'd usually find a metal blade, there was a blade made of red gemstone, fastened to an almost black handle by a dark brown leathery material.
That's when I heard the voice for the last time.
"This is my most powerful artifact. As you evolve it will evolve with you. Become stronger. Until you are worthy of your mentors heritage. Until you have proven yourself a wielder of powerful magic. Our contract, I know you didnt understand it. Didnt know what I did. You dont even know who, or what I am. Usually your patron would demand of you things to maintain your power. "Kill some people", "Have sex with things", "Pay me in gold" I am not like this. All I expect from you, is to travel the land, collect experiences, and become strong. Establish yourself. Become known. When the time for meaningful actions comes, I will return for my due."
Then my head went quiet. Finally all I felt before could vent out. I cried. For hours, until sunrise.
After I had left for the closest town, I realized the cat followed me. I called him "Gore" in memory of my mentor.
I felt that part of the voices essence resided in gore. I couldnt care less about that. IT was like my soul was linked with him.
Since then I have tried establishing myself as a mercenary. Mostly in the underground, doing dirty work for cartells and shady guilds and organizations. but occassionally an interesting bounty may come in, and then I'd do work for the law. Bring in prisoners, kill bandits. But I never stayed in a lordship longer than a month. "Travel the land" the voice had said.
I am writing this down, now on my 22nd birthday, to make sure, i still remember. I do this every year. burn the piece of paper after. I must make sure I remember, but I dont need a constant reminder"
I've adjusted my post to be in line with the guidelines.
Posting Comment to push to top again.
I is sad
Aww don’t be sad I’m considering taking on another group I’d like to talk with you about joining message me on discord Masquerade#1335 if your interested
I have been busy with work this recent month, so I'm sorry I didnt check in.
I'm currently away from home, but I'm gonna get in contact when I get back monday.
I've considered that spreading out into multiple potential characters may get me more access to groups so I also created a Human Fighter with a religious background being a Warrior-Priest for Tyr who only recently due to some political happenings at his Temple was able to leave far enough to even participate in any kind of society not indoctrinated.
Really hope we can make either that or my Warlock happen. If not I'm always open to modify those two into something more fitting or easy to organize, or create a new characte all together as long as it's helpful to get me into a group
Hi I am somewhat of a newer dm myself I would love to play if available you can contact me on discord at TreeFoundLand#9651
Hello, I think my game might work for you. PS, I could change it so the starting level is 1
WELCOME ADVENTURERS
My name is Fredrick Dunlap. I am a map maker, and my latest goal is to map out the entirety of an underground cave known as The Chasm. It's a hole in the ground that goes on for nobody knows how long located on Broken Shard Island, a land mass that appeared one hundred and twenty nine years ago.
The island itself is a bustling metropolis at this point due to the sheer quantity of people who wish to dive deep into The Chasm's depths.
Why do I need adventurers you ask? Because The Chasm is full of monsters, evil sorcerers and people who are there for lawlessness it brings. Above all of those though, there is one quirk to exploring its depths. The Curse of Elysium.
The curse is a terrible thing that constantly effects anyone who goes inside. While devices have been created to deal with those effects, they are only temporary. Below are how long they last on each floor, and what the consequences are for not using one of the devices known as a Filicider.
Floor 1: Nausea and motion sickness that gets worse the closer to floor 2 you get. Game effect. All dice rolls are lowered by 1, and it is impossible to get a critical hit, as well as critical failures happen on rolls 2 or lower. The Filicider loses 1 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 2: Your skin slowly gets softer, allowing for someone with their bare hands to easily tear it off of your body. Game Effect. All attacks done against you use dice one size higher for damage. The Filicider loses 5 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 3: The bones in your body begin to become frail, even one simple fall could be enough to break bones. Game effect. Every time you take damage, you lose one point of permanent hp, and your speed is lowered by 1. This can be undone at a shop on the surface. The Filicider loses 10 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 4: The mind begins to play tricks on you. Game effect. Sometimes you will see illusions, as well as all attacks do 1d4 of psychic damage to you. The Filicider loses 20 percent of its strength per hour.
Floor 5 +: Unknown. The only people who go down that far have yet to share any information.
While I know that many of you are unwilling to risk your lives, I promise that those of you who accept the challenge will be well compensated.
As for what you will be required to do. You will be required to provide your own gear, including any Filiciders, and then protect me as I delve down the depths to map out the entire chasm.
To better prepare you for what lies ahead, I will now briefly describe the first four floors as best I can.
Floor 1: It is a set of floating islands that are attached to the backs of large monsters. Grappling hooks and other such gear will be needed to traverse from island to island.
Floor 2: The entire area is rock, with magma underneath it. This makes the environment exceedingly difficult to navigate, and hot to move though. A high constitution will be needed in order to withstand its depths, or a potion that can be bought on the surface.
Floor 3: This floor seems to have been at one a lovely city, but has now nothing more than rubble.
Floor 4: This floor is seemingly some sort of crypt, with bones embedded into the very rocks you'll be stepping on, as well as entire structures down there made out of stone.
Now, what's in it for you brave adventurers. First off, once I am finished with my map, I will provide each and every one of you 1,000,000 gold pieces. In addition, you'll be allowed to keep any magical artifacts and armor that you find down there. However, to ensure you don't run away, you'll be forced into a blood contract that will only expire when I'm finished, or when you've met an untimely end.
Thank you for your interest. Please message below or contact my discord if you're interested.
Rules
Discord: Fireshade (Zachary Shields)#7282
I dunno that just doesnt hit me right.
There are already like hard rules to make the game more difficult which I am not in the right mindset yet to do.
Also it hits wrong to have my first adventure basically laid out as something that looks like a preset campaign.
Dont get me wrong it seems ok to do for experienced groups made of experienced people which, simply, I am not.
And while I get the desire/need to vet people before allowing them in, it feels like if it's said outright, I will be put in an audition.
I'm looking for the more casual stuff.
Still looking for a group :)
Still Bumping this. Not gonna give up.
In hopes that maybe you take a liking to my Warlock this is roughly the background I imagined:
"My life starts in a small town, completely isolated from the surrounding lordship, which meant it was completely self sufficient.
We did our own farming, had our own cattle, went hunting in the woods we were granted with when we split from our wardens land. We had a druid to bless the forest, hunters, lumberjacks anything you could need. We were even granted, or rather forced to accept, the right to do our own justice.
It was a community of humanoid people. Dwarves, Elves, both wood and high, humans, but only one family of Tieflings. Mine.
The Town was led by a "Chief" who was decided by a random poll when an old Chief died, or by their decision, if they chose to retire. I lived there until I was six.
Around my 5th birthday a rather big assembly of refugees, fleeing from the war in our old wardens lands, came to our Town. We had always been open to strangers, my parents were accepted without question when they came there 10 years ago. But these refugees, they had a clear dislike, hatred even for Tieflings. Starting with their arrival my family was put through daily verbal attacks. As I approached the midpoint of my 6th year of life, our chief mysteriously died. As tradition had it, the Chief was decided by random, and it fell upon one of the refugees to lead.
When a milkmaid was murdered, they jumped quickly to frame my parents. The milkmaid had been decapitated then hidden in the woods to be found by scouts looking for remnants of the war. A lumberjack able to wield an axe and a hunter who knew the surrounding area were easy targets. "Out of respect" the elder let us go with exile, banishing me and my family from our home. My mother knew which direction the lords castle was. We were to go there, make our cases to become subjects. But as we entered his lands we saw the way the war had left the country. Halfway to the nearest city, we were attacked by highwaymen, untrained, but nevertheless better trained than someone swinging his axe at immobile trees, and a hunter only versed in animal anatomy.
While they were able to kill the bandits, and protect me, my father quickly died of his wounds, while my mother was suffering an infection that lasted for multiple weeks, slowing our progress to a halt. One day I woke up in camp, and could only find her motionless body. In panic I grabbed what I could, and ran. Down the road, but on the side of the woods, where potential bandits would not recognize a child in the shadows.
I soon arrived in the closest city. Begging to get by I quickly realized that the war had impact beyond the blackened earth that surrounded the major settlements. nobody could share. I quickly sought peers for support and found a rag-tag group of war-orphans, that quickly accepted me. On my 7th birthday I was sneaking around the town square, as the whole city collectively had gathered to watch a public execution. I quickly selected a target, an elderly man in a white robe, who looked too advanced in years to recognize that the street-urchin he just bumped into had stolen his gold.
As I returned to our hiding spot, all my friends were gone. instead the old man was there.
"I'd like my gold back young man."
"What if I dont give it."
"I'm sure you know what guards to to thieves."
Blushing, I went to give back the gold I stole, but was startled when I couldnt feel the small pouch, where I definitely felt the weight of hit pulling the fabric of my pocket.
The old man laughed.
"You stole an illusion young man. You know I am a wizard. Well versed in magic. Well enough versed in Divination to see something in you, I see very seldomly."
"A bright future I guess, dying in these alleys like all the urchins do"
"No, he said. Nothing. From my Tower I saw this moment over and over, but even the most powerful artifact in my collection could not tell me what your future may hold. I even tried a failsafe, divined a random beggar on the square. His future was as clear as mountain-water. So, call it professional curiosity, but I will make you an offer. Become my apprentice. I will keep you fed, give you a roof over your head. Teach you what I know. Do you want that."
Urchins seldomly trust random old men. Some had made, let's call it "unfortunate" experiences when they were given similar offers.
But something radiated from that old man, now that he had revealed his nature. A power that seemed to soothe every pain I had felt the last 6 months.
I aggreed, collected my things, left a note for my friends, and left with my mentor, Hughgore the Wisened.
His Tower was rather far away, we traveled for at least another month, he asked me about my past, I asked him what a wizard does in a tower this far from civilization.
"Study. In my younger days, I took great strides across the land, but when I entered my 7th decade on this plane, I decided to settle down, and finally read all those dusty books I collected. Sometimes I even still practice."
When we arrived I was awestruck. A massive Tower, that even though we had been walking straight at it had somehow been hidden from my sight, was standing inside a rather big clearing of the forest. IT seemed to be made fron a singular piece of white stone, ancient, but not a ruin, more like a well-maintained relic.
"This is the Tower of O'malek, he was an Warlock who had bound his patron to the very Tower he resided in, siphoning the power from the being, planning to become whatever his patron had been. A group led by a Paladin and a cleric in days long gone managed to slay O'malek, but eventually died as the now more powerful being in the walls poisoned the air with necrotic magic. I rediscovered the tower, and after a year of research, I managed to cleanse it of the beings presence. It took 77 days and nights of ritualistic casting and 13 concentric runic circles across the entire forest to disperse and banish that thing back to where it came from. Since then I called this place my own. A place to rest after fruitless adventures."
Awestruck I could barely take in any more information as he led me through the intricate tower, that seemed way bigger on the inside than outside.
At one point we entered a small chamber, barely big enough to fit us and Hughgore pulled out a small pouch as he opened it, he put his hand in. Then his arm up to the elbow. And finally the entire limb went inside. HE fished out a small key and handed it to me.
"Your chambers are on the 8th floor, second door, on the second corridor to the right when you take the stairs from the 5th floor up or the 10th floor down."
The first months were utter confusion. The magic Hughgore had cast to make this tower a labyrinth of nonsensical hallways stairs and rooms made it hard to remember anything. sometimes you entered a room on the third floor and ended up in a bathroom on the 9th, and upon leaving found yourself outside the front entrance.
After settling in the training started. To say I was utterly useless would have been praise. THe smallest feats of the tiniest magic took me days to accomplish, and sometimes only once at all. 10 years of this training had left me with almost no knowledge. I spent days sometimes weeks in arguments with Hughgore, on whether he even wanted me as an apprentice, when I was such a collosal failure and everytime I felt aweful, because I knew very well, that even just a year in, he had considered me a son. Part of a family he never had. He once told me of an old flame. An enchantress of a far-away land he had a week of romance with before she disappeared without a trace. he had spent years searching for her, but gave up when his efforts had led him in a circle at least 5 times. He never moved past that. I was who he had chosen to be his family, his protege. He always assured me, that he didnt care, and while a single look into his eyes confirmed it, in the furthest reaches of his mind, I sensed a sadness, about how he wouldnt be able to keep his knowledge and skill alive.
My story truly begins, on the night of my 17th birthday. After an especially heated argument, Hughgore had sent me to my chambers. I think I was too harsh on him back then. It seemed that even his ambient magic, cast on the tower was weakening from how betrayed he must have felt from his chosen son second guessing whether he should have ever been adopted.
I found my chambers, and laid down to sleep. But awoke when a "voice" started putting thoughts into my head. It wasnt really a voice. More like, thoughts I havent thought, voiceless actually, just words that seemed to appear in my subconscious.
"Poor old man. Dying without a son. Noone to bear his name, noone to bear his knowledge. Noone to rely on. Only a useless street urchin, eating his food and questioning his decisions, with absolutely no magical talent"
It was like the worst of my feelings were forced into words and thrust upon me.
"And now he takes his last breath, knowing you will never be this towers true owner."
I bolted up. "Last Breath" that couldnt be. I hurried up the stairs. The Tower was barely, if at all, still mangling itself into a labyrinth, it was as straight as it had never been. As I arrived at the door to his quarters, I didnt even knock. All I heard when I entered, was the arcane whirring his room had been known for. Instruments and artifacts realizing their power into a perceivable hum. I tested his pulse, and for a second my breath and pulse stopped. The voice was right. HE wasnt breathing anymore. Desperate, I cast what little spells I thought could help. I took his spellbook and tried, over and over, to do something to bring him back. But nothing.
The next few minutes were a blurr. I remember running down the stairs, tumbling on them multible times, bruising myself, maybe even breaking a bone.
The next thing I clearly remember, is waking up in a different clearing. I knew I was about a mile north of the tower. I ran so much? How late was it? I couldnt tell.
The "Voice" returned then and there.
"See what your incompetence has brought you. A dead father, a dead mentor, and nothing to show for it. Not one useful skill."
Those were cold words. They almost felt like they had torn into my brain like frostburn.
Then they softened, as if to lull me.
"But dear child, there is a way to still honor the man. Follow my instructions, and I shall grant you magical knowledge. Maybe not the one your master wished for you to wield. But magic nonetheless."
What happened next was hard to describe. Pictures of what to do, how to please the voice just appeared in my mind.
A piece of paper on the ground, me piercing a finger with the small knife that suddenly appeared on my belt. ME pressing my finger to the paper and speaking a sentence in a language I didnt understand. But the guilt, the regret, the seething feeling of having failed at everything. They didnt let me see clearly that I was turning myself in to a terrible future.
I still did it though.
The second I finished the chant. My mind went blank again. When I awakened, I laid infront of a mausoleum. A black and white spotted cat was there, piercing red eyes directed towards me. I didnt hear the "voice" anymore, but felt a connection, stronger than any I had before, to that cat. I went into the grave and immediatly spotted an open coffin.
Inside were items that my subconscious knew were granted to me, and expected of me to use.
A black and red robe, made from a foreign material. It seemed way to big at first, but as I slipped out of my garments and into the robe, they seemed to straighten and adapt to my form, as if magically forced to fit me.
A dagger seemingly of elvish make, but not at all clearly. I tested it on one of the bones there. it cut straight into the bone a good 20% from even just slight pressure.
And of course. The centerpiece. A Scythe. But not of normal make. Where you'd usually find a metal blade, there was a blade made of red gemstone, fastened to an almost black handle by a dark brown leathery material.
That's when I heard the voice for the last time.
"This is my most powerful artifact. As you evolve it will evolve with you. Become stronger. Until you are worthy of your mentors heritage. Until you have proven yourself a wielder of powerful magic. Our contract, I know you didnt understand it. Didnt know what I did. You dont even know who, or what I am. Usually your patron would demand of you things to maintain your power. "Kill some people", "Have sex with things", "Pay me in gold" I am not like this. All I expect from you, is to travel the land, collect experiences, and become strong. Establish yourself. Become known. When the time for meaningful actions comes, I will return for my due."
Then my head went quiet. Finally all I felt before could vent out. I cried. For hours, until sunrise.
After I had left for the closest town, I realized the cat followed me. I called him "Gore" in memory of my mentor.
I felt that part of the voices essence resided in gore. I couldnt care less about that. IT was like my soul was linked with him.
Since then I have tried establishing myself as a mercenary. Mostly in the underground, doing dirty work for cartells and shady guilds and organizations. but occassionally an interesting bounty may come in, and then I'd do work for the law. Bring in prisoners, kill bandits. But I never stayed in a lordship longer than a month. "Travel the land" the voice had said.
I am writing this down, now on my 22nd birthday, to make sure, i still remember. I do this every year. burn the piece of paper after. I must make sure I remember, but I dont need a constant reminder"
Additionally I have simmered over a potential homebrew for the "Bloodgem Scythe":
1. The Scythe unlocks power as your level and arcane knowledge grows:
at each level up roll a DC 15 Arcana Check, if you succeed the next level of effect is activated on the Scythe:
2. The levels of effect are as followed:
Always unlocked: Adapting to your style of combat, True Strike has adapted to your arcane efficiancy and can now also affect spell attacks
True Strike has become such a staple of your combat style, the Scythe has inherited this Spell and it can be cast at all times without expending a Spell Slot
Level 2: As you continue to spell doom for your enemies, True Strike has become 2nd nature to you, and can now be cast as a bonus action. If used this way, you attack with advantage but cannot crit
level 3: Your spells grow in power and True Strike no longer hinders you from unleashing your spells full potential: you can now crit, even when using True Strike as a bonus action
level 4: Your Nature has now seeped into the gem. As a Tiefling, if you chose to cast True Strike as a full action, you can now use an enhanced Thaumaturgy as a bonus action:
4.1. Thaumaturgy: you can now activate the maximum amount of 3 effects at once. If your enemy fails a wisdom saving throw against your spell DC, a random fear based effect takes place
4.2 Random Fear based effect:
DM rolls a d6 for:
6 - the enemy is paralyzed by the fear of your potential supernatural power
5/4 - the enemy has become unsettled by your display the action enhanced by True Strike hits with +1
3/2 - base fear effect: the enemy takes their full movement to run away from you
1 - (Fail) the enemy is afraid but that makes them more perceptive, the bonus from True Strike is lost.
Level 5: Your enhanced Thaumaturgys fear effect can no longer fail and a 1 now counts the same as 3/2
New player looking for first game
Still looking :D
Just to repeat, none of the material I posted here needs to be accepted as is or needs to be part of the campaign I end up grouping with, it's just an example I've created because it's a character I've thought about when I first posted this.
Wrote u a Message Hit me Up if ur Interested :)
After 2 Sessions with a campaign, I was quite suddenly removed due to mistakes on my part, that even after a long-winded discussion, seemed to have broken the DMs trust in me (as a player) to be properly integrated into his campaign.
Even though I am seriously disappointed, that I was not given one last session to prove, that I was dedicated to improving myself, I can accept a DMs total power over the story.
So I would now be available for someone else to take a chance on me. I'd like to keep playing the character I have started, even though I will try to change how certain characteristics are expressed within that characters RP to make sure I dont make the same mistakes again.
I recently acquired the PHB and decided to get more ressources every month to steadily grow my available source material, prioritizing character options (planing to get Xanathars next)
The Character I'd be playing would be a Tiefling/Hexblade Warlock with the specific restriction of not using eldritch blast (to make sure I dont become just another Eldritch Blast Spammer)
I'd like to keep the Ability Rolls I made within that other campaign, but am willing to reroll, if you have rules about upper and lower limits on these rolls.
Additional Information:
I have reworked my Bloodgem Scythe Homebrew, to be less of a complex Homebrew about getting modified Spells at certain levels, I have, actually, decided to abandon True Strike in the Homebrew completely, since I have realized trying to make it work as a viable spell is more work than it's worth and also hard to balance.
Instead my Scythe would simply be a Homebrew Spear that I can choose to deal piercing or slashing damage with, preserving the dice used to roll damage
(1d6 one handed, 1d8 two handed (Versatile))
TO preserve it's meaning as a melee Weapon though I have removed the "Thrown" Property
It also takes one Attunement Slot and acts as a Spellcasting Focus
thanks for help
I'm sorry, what?