Finishing out a module with a ton of homebrew thrown in, and moving forward into new campaign. Have five highly active regular players want to complete it with a 6th. There are nights when it almost feels like a live session.
This campaign is being played on discord.
Standard array
Upto Tasha's (beyond Tasha's and homebrew all with approval, just want to keep things balanced.)
One home brewed magic item that goes with your character
The better the backstory the more likely I am to pick you, whether that be well fleshed out, wacky fun, or hella creative.
Name: Rel Serafin - link to DDB character sheet Race/Gender: Drow Half-Elf Female Class: Divine Soul Sorcerer (7) / Hexblade Warlock (2) Ability Scores: Standard Array Homebrew Magic Item: (See spoiler immediately below this)
Earrings of the Raven Queen (re-skinned +2 Bloodwell Vial) - see backstory.
Backstory: (See spoiler immediately below this).
Rel's mother was Ilvara, an exceedingly cruel and capricious drow noble from the Mizzrym family in Menzoberranzan in the Underdark. A family of slavers. Her father Tam, was a captured slave, an aasimar, who she was barely allowed to know and died when Rel was still a small child. In fact, Rel was only born due to a bet, Ilvara carrying the pregancy to term to collect her winnings, before discarding her daughter like trash. Rel's full name itself was intended as a joke. She was named after some scullery maid with dreams above her station in a silly fantasy tale from another plane that Ilvara once read. A long, flowery name that Rel loathes with a passion and has always refused and shortened. To this day, the worst insult you do to her is to call her by her full name, "Cinderella". In truth, Rel was raised more or less as a slave herself, other than some grudging education and some occasional favors bestowed on her at the whim of her mother and the Mizzrym family. Nevertheless, she was bright and charismatic and soaked up what little she was offered, while harboring an immense chip on her shoulder.
During an incursion by demons from the Abyss into the Underdark, Rel managed to escape, along with a slave she had secretly befriended. A wise goliath nature cleric, Rakatha. After months of harrowing adventures, Rel and Rakatha were able to escape to the surface. During this journey, Rel took what she believed to be her father Tam's name, Serafin, as she felt the spark of divine magic blossoming within her, from some angelic being far more heavenly than Rel could ever hope to be. A distant ancestor of Tam's. In conflict with this was the power emanating from a pair of strange black earrings she found in a deep tunnel excavated by a purple worm not far from Menzoberranzan. In some way that Rel does not fully understand, the earrings have bonded Rel in a mostly unwitting pact with the Raven Queen of Shadowfell, whom Rel begins to manifest when she places Hexblade's curse on a foe, stealing life for her patron. Both sets of skills, along with Rakatha's steady guidance were crucial to the two surviving to see the light of the outside world. (Earrings of the Raven Queen - re-skinned +2 Bloodwell Vial).
Facing an utterly strange realm above ground, Rel joined Rakatha as she returned to her goliath clan at Wyrmdoom Crag in the Spine of the World. In time, she became fluent in Giant after months of patient sessions at Rakatha's side, managing herself to teach Rakatha passable Elvish in the process. She settled at the edges of the clan's holdings and became after a time, if not loved, at least well-accepted by the otherwise insular goliaths in a way that she never had been by the drow. What's more the goliaths taught her the basics of armor and weapons. Lessons which she eagerly devoured and which seemed to come naturally to her through her Hexblade pact. In return, she helped the clan with her magic as they became the only family she knew.
But trouble was brewing in the goliath colony. Perhaps a reflection of rumored trouble with the Ordning throughout Faerun - Rel could not say. In this case, it manifested as conflict with another goliath clan, those of Skytower Shelter, who rode griffins into battle. A civil war initiated by some almost irrelevant past perceived slight. Though 'her' clan at Wyrmdoom Crag would never admit it, the advantage of the griffins proved to be a cruicial difference in strength between the clans. In one particularly brutal attack, she and all the Crag goliaths around her were routed. Scattered. Rel herself was sent fleeing out of the Spine of the World to seek her fortune. She wishes she knew what happened to Rakatha and the rest of her goliath family. Perhaps one day she will find out. Or at least return to the Spine.
Name: Perrin Cherrycheeks https://ddb.ac/characters/70436347/xXxBTz Race/Gender: Lightfoot Halfling Male Class: Paladin Oath of Devotion 9 Ability Scores: Standard Array Magic Item: (In Spoiler)
So I haven't really picked one out for sure yet as I feel uncomfortable just choosing one without DM input. But the basic idea is for the short sword he got from his Dad to be a holy sword of some kind. Maybe Sentient but maybe not if that's too much. Ideally though it would be a magic sword that's his most prized possession.
Backstory: (In this spoiler)
Perrin Cherrycheeks grew up on a simple Cherry Farm on the outskirts of Nashkel with his parents; Sam, a former adventurer, and Verna, a simple housewife and outstanding cook. In case you couldn't tell by the name Perrin and his parents owned a Cherry farm making the tartest Cherries pastries around. Perrin loved growing up on the farm. He would help his father tend the Cherry Fields, take care of their cows, chickens, ducks, and one stubborn mule named Paul. At night he would help his mom in the kitchen learning all of the different ways to use Cherries in cooking making jams, pies, coolers, you name it. Before bed, his father would tell him of his time on the road; of the friends he made and some beasts he fought. He would always point to his sword, which his Dad kept above the fire mantle, and tell Perrin that one day, when he would need it most, the sword would talk to him. Perrin always thought his Dad was just crazy, swords do not talk. Everyday his family would wake up and pray to Yendolla, the patron Goddess of Halflings. In every time of need they would turn to her, for their health, for their fortune, and for their happiness. Always she would answer, smiling down on the small halfling family. Perrin was an only child growing up but he had a lot of friends. His best friend was a fellow halfling named Frank. Well, the two of them were more than friends. As they grew up the two became closer and closer, eventually becoming an item. This was the happiest time of Perrin's life. His life was soon turned upside down when he received a visit on his 18th birthday. It was a day that Perrin always dreaded. In his land when an able-bodied man turned 18 he was drafted into the tyrant Lord Drogo Embree's army for at least five years. Lord Embree was anything but a kind man, taxing the people to death he used an iron fist to get what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted. Four years was all that Perrin could take. Four years of being treated like less than dirt; four years of enforcing Lord Embree's ridiculous laws and taxes. He couldn't stand arresting people anymore for not giving up their last bits of food so Lord Embree can stuff his face. One day in the middle of Lord Embree's own town, which was about a day travel from Perrin's hometown, Perrin had enough. He exploded in the middle of town; giving a rallying speech about how unfair Lord Embree's rule was. How we, the people, could turn against him and take back our lands. Sadly, when he was done Perrin saw that he was standing alone, not even Frank came to stand with him. Nobody rallied to him; they were all too afraid. Seeing nobody took up his cause Perrin shed his army uniform and took off home in the same clothes he was in on his 18th birthday. By the time Perrin returned home it was already too late. His childhood home had burned down to the ground. Looking around his home's ashes Perrin has only found a few things of significant value: his father's Chain Mail, Shortsword, Shield, his mother's cooking supplies, his mother's amulet to Yondalla, and a note from Lord Drogo Embree. All the note said is "This is what happens when people stand up to me." It was there in his childhood home's ashes that Perrin swore his vows. It was so tempting to swear a vow of vengeance against Lord Embree. Seeing his mother's and father's valuables he couldn't. He couldn't swear vengeance surrounded by these items that reminded him of such happy times. That would be what Lord Embree would do. So, he swore an Oath of Devotion. He swore that he would turn tyrant Lord Embree and every other tyrant he encountered into a benevolent leader. He swore that he would protect those that couldn't protect themselves. That he would be a beacon of hope for those under oppression. Finally, he swore that he would have the wisdom to know when someone is unredeemable and that he would remove that unredeemable wickedness from the world. With his vows said Perrin made way to the closest biggest city he could think of, Baldur's Gate. Along the way, Perrin picked up some supplies by doing manual labor for individuals he found along the road. He also discovered that Yondalla had heard his vows and has given him some holy powers. For the past five years Perrin had been traveling the world doing good wherever he can. Sometimes by himself, and other times in a group. Regardless he always looked to do the very best he could, to help those who could not help themselves. He still plans to return home one day and help those there, but right now, he cannot face that. Not alone, not without any true friends with him.
qwerty is the heir of the eternal darkness. necromancy and mind shaping is his birthright. he works as a scholar, seeking and studying ancient artifacts. kicked out from may towns for necromancy he continues to study in peace, considering combat to be an unfortunate necessity in this violent world, learning as many spells as possible from destructive evocations to conjurations used only to test theories.
he grew up in an old half elven family of mages, the family was heavily steeped in magic, sorcerers were born and even those without natural power had talent for magic, some wizards and some even warlocks but everyone enchanters or necromancers at least in some capacity, as the only wizard in his generation he should have been left an ancient necromancers tome, however it had been missing for forty six years after having been lent to a friend who was presumed dead before it was returned.
when the time came, instead of following a common wizard tradition and specializing in a specific spell school he searched for years after a rumour until he finally found a Scribe, not a lowly scribe, working day after day writing things for those to uneducated or rich to do so for themselves but a Scribe, an ancient wizard order nearly lost to time that studied not a certain school of magic but magic as a whole. from this master, an ancient elven mage named falzan, he learned how to awaken his spellbook with a simple replica of a soul. when this master grew tired of their association he left without warning, leaving only a note saying "i left you your family inheritance, dont bother thanking me, oh wait,you cant!" and an ancient looking spellbook arrayed with glyphs he could barely understand. after a few weeks identifying it repeatedly and slowly getting past layers upon layers of wards (not without setting some off, sorry falzan, your cabin is ruined) he finally removed the wards and realized what the book did, nothing, absolutely nothing, it was soulbound but lacking telepathy that didn't help much, he tried the obvious things, writing in it, checking for hidden writing, he even finally translated the glyphs, but the soul inside was dormant, setting out again with the book in his bag as a project he would get back to eventually, he set out to the nearest city, unfortunately the old man didnt like society so it was a long trip, the trip was interrupted by normal problems weak looking lone travelers have, bandits, and goblins, he fought off most of the attacks without significant issue being a mage of some skill when his book was burned by an unfortunately clever goblin mage, still able to cast but without the versatility of his spellbook qwerty remembered the old book and sighing decided to awaken it, with unforeseen consequences, attempting to create a simple artificial soul to awaken it the soulbound book grabbed onto the spell and took over destroying the spell and using the framework to communicate and gain some degree of autonomy, this spellbook now functions as a regular awakened spellbook, while also providing helpful advice and information and even animating and controlling dead on its own.
item
telarion, an ancient lich of unknown power bound himself to this book as his phylactery, unfortunately life priests saw fit to interfere and in their infinite wisdom and mercy decided to trap his soul in the book instead of killing him, forever, with no way to contact anyone, and nothing to stave off boredom, and insanity.
this book is a spellbook normally but when attuned to by an order of scribe wizard functions as an awakened spellbook (as per the order of scribes features) but fully sentient, as a neutral evil mind that can bestow the necromancer subclass on its wielder or remove it at will. the spellbook also contains all necromancy spells, which can be prepared by anyone using the book awakened or not.
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic byVitaly S Alexius
Sytherian is the half-elven son born to a noble elven mother and common human father who runs a tavern in Waterdeep. Up untill his 13th birthday, Sy grew up in Evermeet until his unruly behavior caused him to be cast out by his grandfather. He was then sent to Waterdeep to live with this father who up until this time he had not met. It was there that Sy found an outlet for his antics in the form of cards. Over the years growing up with this father, Sy became an exceptional card player. Bluffing and reading his opponents was how Sy typically won his games, but if his opponent proved exceptionally hard to read, Sy resorted to stacking the deck in his favor, a trick that almost always saves the day. One fateful day, when Sy was 25, he entered a high stakes game against a local crime organization. With his reputation on the line and in the company of such a skilled table, Sy resorted to what he always does in those conditions. He stacked the deck. Except this time he was caught. And those he was playing against didn't take cheating lightly. Sy was jumped in the ally after the game and stabbed through the chest. As he laid there dying, he was visited by an angel who offered to spare his life in exchange for his service to her. Sy immediately accepted and is now an agent of this angel who's goals are the protection of the land and the innocent people who live here.
Magic Item
A ring which gives advantage to slight of hand. Sy would use this ring to help him cheat at cards.
Russel as a young child wondered off from his home chasing a rat into the woods. He was soon lost with many trails and dangers he was fortunate to be found by a Tribe of firbolgs who lost their own child recently. The Giants normally aloof attitude was overridden by maternal instincts and raised him as their own. Things were going happily till he was adventuring not far from his new family and was lured to a house made from a hollow tree by a young woman who look much like his mother. But the woman was actually a hag able to detect the young child's memories. And she loved to play evil games with unwary passerby's Enamored with his red hair and light blue eyes Instead of eating him the hag experimented on Russel polymorphing him into different forms experimenting with different hexes while torturing other children she caught from a nearby city by luring them from alleyways with candy and toys into her domain. Finally consuming their souls and making meat pies she would sell for coin intown. The Giants worried about their adopted son searched for him for years till they happened upon the evilly protected tree recognizing from afar their adopted son and realizing they needed help partitioned adventures and the authorities intown and soon there was an epic battle. The hag and her coven slain their son rescued but sent to an orphanage in the city. For the firbolgs in their efforts were slain also. Russel Varangian its a name he remembers from the short years he was fully human. Though he looks the part of his true parents. He sometimes feels the urge of the hunt something wolfish within. While at the orphanage he learned to fend for himself stealing what was needed. He soon found a rapier amongst other tools off a dead rogue in an alley way. He learned the nuances of armor weapons and shields from an old veteran existing in the gutters too old and drunk to earn a living Russel would steal booze and food for the lessons the veteran taught, till he found the man dead of the mans own neglect. Taking the mans shield helm and armor Varangian now in his late teens, decided to try and put the Vets lessons to use perhaps earn a living.
Magic Item
Repeating Hand Crossbow of thorns Given to him by the firbolgs. Its bound to his soul and can't be taken away for it disappears and can be summoned back with a bonus action. It produces thorns that if hit deals 1d6+1 piecing damage and the bolts disappear afterwards hit or miss.
Well I didn't get a message so I assume I didn't get picked. Congrats who did and I'll be on the look out for any new recruitment posts from you. :D An active discord PBP group sounds like a god sent compared to my current one that can be really slow. Anyways have fun.
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Finishing out a module with a ton of homebrew thrown in, and moving forward into new campaign. Have five highly active regular players want to complete it with a 6th. There are nights when it almost feels like a live session.
This campaign is being played on discord.
Standard array
Upto Tasha's (beyond Tasha's and homebrew all with approval, just want to keep things balanced.)
One home brewed magic item that goes with your character
The better the backstory the more likely I am to pick you, whether that be well fleshed out, wacky fun, or hella creative.
Name: Rel Serafin - link to DDB character sheet
Race/Gender: Drow Half-Elf Female
Class: Divine Soul Sorcerer (7) / Hexblade Warlock (2)
Ability Scores: Standard Array
Homebrew Magic Item: (See spoiler immediately below this)
Earrings of the Raven Queen (re-skinned +2 Bloodwell Vial) - see backstory.
Backstory: (See spoiler immediately below this).
Rel's mother was Ilvara, an exceedingly cruel and capricious drow noble from the Mizzrym family in Menzoberranzan in the Underdark. A family of slavers. Her father Tam, was a captured slave, an aasimar, who she was barely allowed to know and died when Rel was still a small child. In fact, Rel was only born due to a bet, Ilvara carrying the pregancy to term to collect her winnings, before discarding her daughter like trash. Rel's full name itself was intended as a joke. She was named after some scullery maid with dreams above her station in a silly fantasy tale from another plane that Ilvara once read. A long, flowery name that Rel loathes with a passion and has always refused and shortened. To this day, the worst insult you do to her is to call her by her full name, "Cinderella". In truth, Rel was raised more or less as a slave herself, other than some grudging education and some occasional favors bestowed on her at the whim of her mother and the Mizzrym family. Nevertheless, she was bright and charismatic and soaked up what little she was offered, while harboring an immense chip on her shoulder.
During an incursion by demons from the Abyss into the Underdark, Rel managed to escape, along with a slave she had secretly befriended. A wise goliath nature cleric, Rakatha. After months of harrowing adventures, Rel and Rakatha were able to escape to the surface. During this journey, Rel took what she believed to be her father Tam's name, Serafin, as she felt the spark of divine magic blossoming within her, from some angelic being far more heavenly than Rel could ever hope to be. A distant ancestor of Tam's. In conflict with this was the power emanating from a pair of strange black earrings she found in a deep tunnel excavated by a purple worm not far from Menzoberranzan. In some way that Rel does not fully understand, the earrings have bonded Rel in a mostly unwitting pact with the Raven Queen of Shadowfell, whom Rel begins to manifest when she places Hexblade's curse on a foe, stealing life for her patron. Both sets of skills, along with Rakatha's steady guidance were crucial to the two surviving to see the light of the outside world. (Earrings of the Raven Queen - re-skinned +2 Bloodwell Vial).
Facing an utterly strange realm above ground, Rel joined Rakatha as she returned to her goliath clan at Wyrmdoom Crag in the Spine of the World. In time, she became fluent in Giant after months of patient sessions at Rakatha's side, managing herself to teach Rakatha passable Elvish in the process. She settled at the edges of the clan's holdings and became after a time, if not loved, at least well-accepted by the otherwise insular goliaths in a way that she never had been by the drow. What's more the goliaths taught her the basics of armor and weapons. Lessons which she eagerly devoured and which seemed to come naturally to her through her Hexblade pact. In return, she helped the clan with her magic as they became the only family she knew.
But trouble was brewing in the goliath colony. Perhaps a reflection of rumored trouble with the Ordning throughout Faerun - Rel could not say. In this case, it manifested as conflict with another goliath clan, those of Skytower Shelter, who rode griffins into battle. A civil war initiated by some almost irrelevant past perceived slight. Though 'her' clan at Wyrmdoom Crag would never admit it, the advantage of the griffins proved to be a cruicial difference in strength between the clans. In one particularly brutal attack, she and all the Crag goliaths around her were routed. Scattered. Rel herself was sent fleeing out of the Spine of the World to seek her fortune. She wishes she knew what happened to Rakatha and the rest of her goliath family. Perhaps one day she will find out. Or at least return to the Spine.
One day.
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
Name: Perrin Cherrycheeks https://ddb.ac/characters/70436347/xXxBTz
Race/Gender: Lightfoot Halfling Male
Class: Paladin Oath of Devotion 9
Ability Scores: Standard Array
Magic Item: (In Spoiler)
So I haven't really picked one out for sure yet as I feel uncomfortable just choosing one without DM input. But the basic idea is for the short sword he got from his Dad to be a holy sword of some kind. Maybe Sentient but maybe not if that's too much. Ideally though it would be a magic sword that's his most prized possession.
Backstory: (In this spoiler)
Perrin Cherrycheeks grew up on a simple Cherry Farm on the outskirts of Nashkel with his parents; Sam, a former adventurer, and Verna, a simple housewife and outstanding cook. In case you couldn't tell by the name Perrin and his parents owned a Cherry farm making the tartest Cherries pastries around. Perrin loved growing up on the farm. He would help his father tend the Cherry Fields, take care of their cows, chickens, ducks, and one stubborn mule named Paul. At night he would help his mom in the kitchen learning all of the different ways to use Cherries in cooking making jams, pies, coolers, you name it. Before bed, his father would tell him of his time on the road; of the friends he made and some beasts he fought. He would always point to his sword, which his Dad kept above the fire mantle, and tell Perrin that one day, when he would need it most, the sword would talk to him. Perrin always thought his Dad was just crazy, swords do not talk. Everyday his family would wake up and pray to Yendolla, the patron Goddess of Halflings. In every time of need they would turn to her, for their health, for their fortune, and for their happiness. Always she would answer, smiling down on the small halfling family. Perrin was an only child growing up but he had a lot of friends. His best friend was a fellow halfling named Frank. Well, the two of them were more than friends. As they grew up the two became closer and closer, eventually becoming an item. This was the happiest time of Perrin's life. His life was soon turned upside down when he received a visit on his 18th birthday. It was a day that Perrin always dreaded. In his land when an able-bodied man turned 18 he was drafted into the tyrant Lord Drogo Embree's army for at least five years. Lord Embree was anything but a kind man, taxing the people to death he used an iron fist to get what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted. Four years was all that Perrin could take. Four years of being treated like less than dirt; four years of enforcing Lord Embree's ridiculous laws and taxes. He couldn't stand arresting people anymore for not giving up their last bits of food so Lord Embree can stuff his face. One day in the middle of Lord Embree's own town, which was about a day travel from Perrin's hometown, Perrin had enough. He exploded in the middle of town; giving a rallying speech about how unfair Lord Embree's rule was. How we, the people, could turn against him and take back our lands. Sadly, when he was done Perrin saw that he was standing alone, not even Frank came to stand with him. Nobody rallied to him; they were all too afraid. Seeing nobody took up his cause Perrin shed his army uniform and took off home in the same clothes he was in on his 18th birthday. By the time Perrin returned home it was already too late. His childhood home had burned down to the ground. Looking around his home's ashes Perrin has only found a few things of significant value: his father's Chain Mail, Shortsword, Shield, his mother's cooking supplies, his mother's amulet to Yondalla, and a note from Lord Drogo Embree. All the note said is "This is what happens when people stand up to me." It was there in his childhood home's ashes that Perrin swore his vows. It was so tempting to swear a vow of vengeance against Lord Embree. Seeing his mother's and father's valuables he couldn't. He couldn't swear vengeance surrounded by these items that reminded him of such happy times. That would be what Lord Embree would do. So, he swore an Oath of Devotion. He swore that he would turn tyrant Lord Embree and every other tyrant he encountered into a benevolent leader. He swore that he would protect those that couldn't protect themselves. That he would be a beacon of hope for those under oppression. Finally, he swore that he would have the wisdom to know when someone is unredeemable and that he would remove that unredeemable wickedness from the world. With his vows said Perrin made way to the closest biggest city he could think of, Baldur's Gate. Along the way, Perrin picked up some supplies by doing manual labor for individuals he found along the road. He also discovered that Yondalla had heard his vows and has given him some holy powers. For the past five years Perrin had been traveling the world doing good wherever he can. Sometimes by himself, and other times in a group. Regardless he always looked to do the very best he could, to help those who could not help themselves. He still plans to return home one day and help those there, but right now, he cannot face that. Not alone, not without any true friends with him.
querty: half drow scribes wizard 8
qwerty is the heir of the eternal darkness. necromancy and mind shaping is his birthright. he works as a scholar, seeking and studying ancient artifacts. kicked out from may towns for necromancy he continues to study in peace, considering combat to be an unfortunate necessity in this violent world, learning as many spells as possible from destructive evocations to conjurations used only to test theories.
he grew up in an old half elven family of mages, the family was heavily steeped in magic, sorcerers were born and even those without natural power had talent for magic, some wizards and some even warlocks but everyone enchanters or necromancers at least in some capacity, as the only wizard in his generation he should have been left an ancient necromancers tome, however it had been missing for forty six years after having been lent to a friend who was presumed dead before it was returned.
when the time came, instead of following a common wizard tradition and specializing in a specific spell school he searched for years after a rumour until he finally found a Scribe, not a lowly scribe, working day after day writing things for those to uneducated or rich to do so for themselves but a Scribe, an ancient wizard order nearly lost to time that studied not a certain school of magic but magic as a whole. from this master, an ancient elven mage named falzan, he learned how to awaken his spellbook with a simple replica of a soul. when this master grew tired of their association he left without warning, leaving only a note saying "i left you your family inheritance, dont bother thanking me, oh wait,you cant!" and an ancient looking spellbook arrayed with glyphs he could barely understand. after a few weeks identifying it repeatedly and slowly getting past layers upon layers of wards (not without setting some off, sorry falzan, your cabin is ruined) he finally removed the wards and realized what the book did, nothing, absolutely nothing, it was soulbound but lacking telepathy that didn't help much, he tried the obvious things, writing in it, checking for hidden writing, he even finally translated the glyphs, but the soul inside was dormant, setting out again with the book in his bag as a project he would get back to eventually, he set out to the nearest city, unfortunately the old man didnt like society so it was a long trip, the trip was interrupted by normal problems weak looking lone travelers have, bandits, and goblins, he fought off most of the attacks without significant issue being a mage of some skill when his book was burned by an unfortunately clever goblin mage, still able to cast but without the versatility of his spellbook qwerty remembered the old book and sighing decided to awaken it, with unforeseen consequences, attempting to create a simple artificial soul to awaken it the soulbound book grabbed onto the spell and took over destroying the spell and using the framework to communicate and gain some degree of autonomy, this spellbook now functions as a regular awakened spellbook, while also providing helpful advice and information and even animating and controlling dead on its own.
item
telarion, an ancient lich of unknown power bound himself to this book as his phylactery, unfortunately life priests saw fit to interfere and in their infinite wisdom and mercy decided to trap his soul in the book instead of killing him, forever, with no way to contact anyone, and nothing to stave off boredom, and insanity.
this book is a spellbook normally but when attuned to by an order of scribe wizard functions as an awakened spellbook (as per the order of scribes features) but fully sentient, as a neutral evil mind that can bestow the necromancer subclass on its wielder or remove it at will. the spellbook also contains all necromancy spells, which can be prepared by anyone using the book awakened or not.
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic by Vitaly S Alexius
Name: Sytherian "Sy" Dealathar
Race/Class: Half-Elf Celestial Warlock
Backstory:
Sytherian is the half-elven son born to a noble elven mother and common human father who runs a tavern in Waterdeep. Up untill his 13th birthday, Sy grew up in Evermeet until his unruly behavior caused him to be cast out by his grandfather. He was then sent to Waterdeep to live with this father who up until this time he had not met. It was there that Sy found an outlet for his antics in the form of cards. Over the years growing up with this father, Sy became an exceptional card player. Bluffing and reading his opponents was how Sy typically won his games, but if his opponent proved exceptionally hard to read, Sy resorted to stacking the deck in his favor, a trick that almost always saves the day. One fateful day, when Sy was 25, he entered a high stakes game against a local crime organization. With his reputation on the line and in the company of such a skilled table, Sy resorted to what he always does in those conditions. He stacked the deck. Except this time he was caught. And those he was playing against didn't take cheating lightly. Sy was jumped in the ally after the game and stabbed through the chest. As he laid there dying, he was visited by an angel who offered to spare his life in exchange for his service to her. Sy immediately accepted and is now an agent of this angel who's goals are the protection of the land and the innocent people who live here.
Magic Item
A ring which gives advantage to slight of hand. Sy would use this ring to help him cheat at cards.
Name: Russel Varangian
Class: Rune Knight/Swashbuckler
Backstory
Russel as a young child wondered off from his home chasing a rat into the woods. He was soon lost with many trails and dangers he was fortunate to be found by a Tribe of firbolgs who lost their own child recently. The Giants normally aloof attitude was overridden by maternal instincts and raised him as their own. Things were going happily till he was adventuring not far from his new family and was lured to a house made from a hollow tree by a young woman who look much like his mother. But the woman was actually a hag able to detect the young child's memories. And she loved to play evil games with unwary passerby's Enamored with his red hair and light blue eyes Instead of eating him the hag experimented on Russel polymorphing him into different forms experimenting with different hexes while torturing other children she caught from a nearby city by luring them from alleyways with candy and toys into her domain. Finally consuming their souls and making meat pies she would sell for coin intown. The Giants worried about their adopted son searched for him for years till they happened upon the evilly protected tree recognizing from afar their adopted son and realizing they needed help partitioned adventures and the authorities intown and soon there was an epic battle. The hag and her coven slain their son rescued but sent to an orphanage in the city. For the firbolgs in their efforts were slain also. Russel Varangian its a name he remembers from the short years he was fully human. Though he looks the part of his true parents. He sometimes feels the urge of the hunt something wolfish within. While at the orphanage he learned to fend for himself stealing what was needed. He soon found a rapier amongst other tools off a dead rogue in an alley way. He learned the nuances of armor weapons and shields from an old veteran existing in the gutters too old and drunk to earn a living Russel would steal booze and food for the lessons the veteran taught, till he found the man dead of the mans own neglect. Taking the mans shield helm and armor Varangian now in his late teens, decided to try and put the Vets lessons to use perhaps earn a living.
Magic Item
Repeating Hand Crossbow of thorns Given to him by the firbolgs. Its bound to his soul and can't be taken away for it disappears and can be summoned back with a bonus action. It produces thorns that if hit deals 1d6+1 piecing damage and the bolts disappear afterwards hit or miss.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/Stormbringer4729/characters/70519982
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Reminder for myself. Work together or fail apart. Talk with each other when necessary. Describe how, where, if, your character moved.
The sign on the trail ahead reads "DONT FEED THE DRAGON!" "Working Together" Follow this link please
Recruiting closed, I will contact those of you I choose shortly
Well I didn't get a message so I assume I didn't get picked. Congrats who did and I'll be on the look out for any new recruitment posts from you. :D An active discord PBP group sounds like a god sent compared to my current one that can be really slow. Anyways have fun.