Welcome to the Feywild a plane that is rampant with whimsy, danger, and ruled by unfettered emotions.
I am seeking 2-3 players for an ongoing campaign.
Posting Frequency: 1 per day.
Current party members
Artificer
Druid
All official races and classes on dndbeyond are allowed. No homebrew.
Level 4
Point buy or Standard Array for ability scores.
Use starting equipment.
For motivation each of you are seeking out Zybilna the archfey of Primeer a realm within the Feywild. Each of you knows Zybilna vaguely as a childhood memory of a statuesque women with black and white hair complete with a tattoo of a chicken's foot under her right eye. She has helped you greatly at some moment of crisis in your past. As of late there have been no contact with her for the past several years. Something is amiss and that urge to seek her out has propelled you to find yourself in Prismeer. Perhaps you landed in Hither a swampy region of Prismeer by a Fey Crossing or perhaps you have always lived within the Feywild and decided to barge your way into Prismeer.
Otto grew up as a member of The Revelry, a collection of families who lived and traveled together and had no real roots. They were a group of performers that would drift from village to village, setting up their own encampments wherever they saw fit, and inviting locals to come enjoy the wonders and amusements they had on display, and robbing them blind while they were distracted. As a result, Otto's childhood was filled with as much warmth, mirth, and song, as there was deception, lying, and crime.
Otto and his older brother Bennet developed a joint act, as early on, both showed a penchant for card-work, especially, card throwing. The boys would mix standard card tricks with feats of incredible card-throwing accuracy and dexterity, and while one had the attention of the crowd, the other would go rifling through pockets and purses.
Unfortunately, there was job in a subterranean dwarven settlement that did not go to plan, and one wrong step sent Otto and Bennet, plummeting down a long, seemingly endless shaft. Otto and Bennet tumbled and fell, banging off of the rocky edges of the chasm, eventually losing consciousness.
Otto awoke some time later in a cavern in the underdark bathed in the faint purple glow of nearby bioluminescent fungi. In the mouth of the cave Otto saw the horrifying sight of his brother Bennet's mangled corpse, who had died from the fall the two suffered. Otto began to panic, when suddenly he saw a vision of a statuesque lady--Zyblina. This vision led Otto out of the cave and to a village of Myconids.
Barely a teenager and with no way to defend himself against the dangers that lurked in the Underdark, Otto had no choice but to remain among the Myconid, who welcomed him in. And so he stayed; he became a part of their society, learning the ways of the strange mushroom people, and communicating exclusively through the use of telepathy via rapport spores. Using his throwing skills and sneakiness, Otto became a reliable scout for the colony, and even proved useful in combat when the colony was threatened, as his skills in card throwing transferred over nicely to crude throwable weapons like darts and daggers the Myconids would whittle from nearby flora. Then, around his 18th birthday, feeling he was capable enough to make the journey, Otto convinced the Sovereign to help him find his way back to the surface.
Upon returning to the surface, Otto's primary goal was to find his family. But with 8 years having passed, he found it impossible, at least for the time being, to find anyone who knew anything about a group called The Revelry. Given the group's penchant for moving around, he felt he needed to do the same. But with no desire to continue a life of trickery, he instead took up a life of adventuring, leveraging the same skills that served him well during his time in the Underdark, and spending his earned coin to stay mobile, traveling from town to town to find work, hoping that someone in the next one he stopped in might have heard something about the Revelry.
And that has been life for Otto the past few years; traveling, adventuring, continuing to hone his skills with thrown weapons, all the while searching for his lost family. But while his blood family may be in his sights, the Myconids that saved him are forever on his mind. They left an indelible mark on Otto. Not just their honesty and generosity, which gave him the strong moral compass keeping him away from the kinds of tricks he'd practiced with The Revelry; but the prolonged use of rapport spores and exclusive communication via telepathy, which over time forged new pathways within Otto's brain, granting him latent psionic powers. It's a power he has yet to fully unlock, but slowly, it is coming to him.
But The Revelry continues to elude Otto. He needs guidance. And so he has decided to search instead for a figure who guided him through the Underdark so long ago; the archfey known as Zyblina.
And here's a little sample RP from Otto's perspective:
Otto had seen some weird places over the course of his life. During his youth, the many towns and villages which the Revelry would visit proved a hotbed for strange sights, as the group performed in places as varied as the seediest tavern to the stuffiest manor. Then, of course, was his time in the underdark; that alone brought a new a jaw-dropping surprise every day. But this place--this Prismeer--well, Otto'd never seen anything like it. And despite all of his practice as a scout, both during his time with the myconids and the years as an adventurer that follows, he found himself well and truly lost.
"I swear, I just passed this bush...or was that a different...oh pebbles, where the huffin-heck am I?" Otto looked down at the small parchment in his hand, on which he was attempting to map his travels so far. But the page had become an indecipherable mess of lines, landmarks, and scribbles that seem to overlap in impossible ways. Did I even write all of this? Otto wasn't sure. But before the panic of being lost could set in, Otto started to hear the voices of three individuals approaching. His instincts kicked back in, and Otto dove quietly into a nearby rose bush to hide.
The voices got louder as the unseen figures approached. Otto listen intently to figure out what they were talking about, but the more he focused, the less it made sense. The voices overlapped and the subject matter seemed totally random. Otto shook his head as he realized what was happening; he was hearing people's thoughts again. No, no, not now, he thought to himself, and a voice, spoken out loud, answered him back.
"Hello? Is someone there?" the startled voice called. Otto fell completely still and silent, still hidden within the bush, and tried his best to quiet his mind as well. Unfortunately, the bush, it seems, had different plans, as it slowly began to part, its many knotted brambles pulling and separating and turning its bright red roses as if pointing directly at the halfling hiding within.
"Oh what the heck." Otto, now fully revealed, stood up and stepped out. The roses turned as if watching him, and then the bush returned to its original shape. Otto looked back it. "Some help you were." One of the vines whipped out and smacked Otto on his rear, forcing the halfling to stumble forward. "Um, hi, hello, sorry about that, I mean no harm!" Otto put his hands above his head and began walking forward. "But I will warn you..." Otto conjured a shimmering blue throwing card--his psi-knives--into each of his hands. "I am armed!"
"Oh dearest me, Julius, do you think he's lost," answered one of the voices.
"I do say, I think the poor boy is lost. Are you lost poor boy," another voice spoke.
Otto scanned his surroundings, trying to find faces to match to the voices, but all he saw was the lush garden he's been lost in for...well...he wasn't really sure how long.
"Oh Randal, do you think he doesn't see us?"
"No no he doesn't see us. Down here, my good fellow!"
Otto tilted is face downward and there, at his feet, he saw a dandelion, a tulip, and a sunflower, all seemingly "walking" on tiny leaf feet, and gesticulating their stems around as if to wave at him. Shocked, Otto tried to step backwards, but finding his leg caught in some brambles he didn't quite remember being there, he fell onto his bottom. The flowers approached as Otto tried to crawl backwards.
"No, no, no need to fear, my dear boy. We mean you no harm," the dandelion exclaimed. "We are but humble knights errant of the summer court. I, Sir Julius, and my confidants, Sirs Randal and Cornelius." The other two flowers bowed politely.
Otto searched for words but couldn't find any. All he could do was think to himself: where the heck am I?!
Sir Julius pressed his stem-like-hand to his petals, and then responded, out loud. "Why, you're in Prismeer, my boy. And that's quite the fancy trick you have there.
"Huh? Oh." Otto chuckled nervously. "Yeah, heh, sorry about that. I don't always realize when I'm...um, well...never mind." Otto pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off.
"Are you lost, dear boy?" asked Sir Julius.
"Heck yeah, I'm lost! I feel like I've been walking in circles for an hour now...maybe more..." Otto looked off into the distance with a thousand-yard-stare. He truly couldn't remember how long he has been lost. The panic began to set in again. "Oh jeez, what am I going to do? Really smart move, Otto. Sure, just take yourself into some crazy place you've never been before all because of some story of some woman named Zyblina who was probably just a hallucination to begin with, and now you're completely lost and..."
"Umm, excuse me," Sir Randal interrupted. "Did you say Zyblina?"
"Huh, uh, I mean, yes! Wait, you know Zyblina?!"
The three flowers turned their petals towards each other, as if giving each other knowing glances. "My dear boy, I think you should follow us." The flowers began marching off and Otto followed quickly behind, his panic giving way to excitement. He thought to himself, do they know Zyblina?! Sir Julius responded, again out loud, "yes, my boy, we knew Zyblina."
Backstory: His eyes burn, his teeth gnash, his horns cast long shadows in the flickering light. His long talons pluck the strings of his lute in slow dulcet tones as his wicked voice carries through the tavern. All eyes are on him, emotions wavering between fascination and barely contained hostility. He knows this and continues, tail swaying to the rhythm, fine boot tapping the ground. >Beast, devil, wretch<
His voice rings, his hands flutter, his horns shine in the soft morning sun. The laughter of children echoes through the alley as they watch his puppets dance and tumble on the cobbled street. All eyes are on him, emotions bubbling in scores of curiosity and pure mirth. He knows this and continues, fingers wriggling as his magic keeps the figures dancing before his kind audience. >magician, showman, friend<
His voice resonates, his eyes roll, his horns stand out in defiance of his family. The clatter of teacups and the whispers of passing servants echo in the lustrous halls. His family's eyes aren't on him. Rather, they're affixed to their other sons, to the floor or to the wall. He's their family's dirty secret. He knows this and continues, waxing philosophic among his kin as they secretly wish he wasn't theirs. Nearby, his wife laughs with his brothers' wives as they sip import and swap tales of their children. As long as they're happy, he muses, it's worth it all. >embarrassment, stain, my lord<
And now, in this moment of discourse, Grigoreo has lost contact with a dearest compeer. As lord of his estate and his holdings, he comes in official capacity to bring aid to one whom he owes so much.
Description: He stands tall and proud, with eyes as scarlet as blood and skin of soft crimson. Jet black hair falls back behind his head in long cascading curls and a grin plays across his lips. His mustache curls on either end and the hairs on his chin taper to a well-groomed point. He bares the horns and tail iconic of his kin, but they're hardly indicative of his true nature. Behind his eyes play a mirthful warmth. His voice is of warm satin, deep and rich, and his mannerism is one of genuine kindness. Fine clothes and dapper colors adorn his stature, providing an air of devilish mystique that he does nothing to dissuade. His ears are wicked points, marked by bronze clasps and thin golden rings, adding to his roguish visage. Opulence is as much his weapon as any bow or dagger, and oh does he ever use it.
Brief backstory: Engelhart and his twin brother, Hirule, are the eldest of four children of Yartaran lesser nobles who are trained wizards. At a young age, the twins showed an aptitude toward book learning, but while Hirule loved school, Englehart preferred being outside and exercising his body. Hirule became a scholar, and his parents hired the best tutors to train him with the hopes that he would one day be an apprentice wizard with the Harpells in Longsaddle. Engelhart, on the other hand, refused to be holed up inside. While the Farruns would have loved for both twins to aspire to wizard greatness, they saw leadership qualities in Engelhart (and a stubbornness they hoped would eventually become an asset) that they decided to develop through fighting, strategy and weapons training. Engelhart especially excelled in archery. While he refused to officially join the Shields of Yartar, Engelhart acted as a vigilante, defending the weak and avenging the wronged in his own way.
As long as Engelhart can remember, he's had dreams of a statuesque woman with black and white hair complete with a tattoo of a chicken's foot under her right eye. In fact, one night when he was almost 10, Engelhart had a very long dream where he helped the woman in a very vivid land with some problem she was having. This dream, while involved and exciting, is now foggy and more of a smeared painting in his mind. Despite his knowing that this was only a dream, the memory holds weight in his mind, and he can't help but feel it was important. It is because of that feeling that when he again dreamt of the statuesque woman recently, he followed her instructions exactly and found himself entering the feywild through a crossing.
Appearance: Engelhart is pale, thin, and of average height. He has short, blonde hair and dark eyes.
brief description: after serving a cruel lord, where he was used only for torture and cruelty, he roams the earth, seeking purpose in his life. in his earlier years, he trained fanatically with the blade, only to be forced from his homeland for falsifying a prophecy. his family was killed and he is sold as a slave, obeying the whims of whoever has a contract of ownership over him, as per his punishment by the elders. eventually his mind shatters and he runs away, coming close to death. a mysterious figure gifts him a pitch black sword, sheathed in an indestructible metal, and is told only to unsheathe the sword in the gravest of danger. he is nursed back to health, but his brush with death leaves a whisp like silhouette trail behind him. now he wants to seek out the mysterious person who helped him. he only has one lead, a name: zybilna.
he is a pale skinned, bald human in his mid 20s, only about 5 ft 8 tall. he has haunted eyes and wears a cloak of white, with a black longsword, sheathed in silver metal at his side, amid various other weapons
Name: M.A.L.A.C.A.I. [Mechanically Automated Logistics and Calculation Analytical Interface]
Race: Autognome
Class/Subclass: Rogue (mastermind)
Background: sage
Appearance: squat brass robot that looks like a potbelly stove with arms and legs. covered in arcane symbols and etchings with glowing blue eyes.
Brief backstory (I can drop the direct connection to the carnival if it doesn’t make sense. Could be Malacai is just investigating the feywild)
M.A.L.A.C.A.I. [Mechanically Automated Logistics and Calculation Analytical Interface] was a marvel of engineering and intellect, designed to serve as a protocol droid, strategist, and mastermind all rolled into one.
Created by the renowned inventor Professor Gearhart, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. possessed a vast repository of knowledge and a sophisticated neural network capable of processing vast amounts of data in the blink of an eye. With its sleek brass exterior and glowing blue optics, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. was a sight to behold, exuding an air of refined sophistication wherever it went.
But despite its advanced capabilities and intelligence, Professor Gearhart felt the programming was missing something. M.A.L.A.C.A.I. Was unable to improvise, and the professor surmised that this might be due to a lack of practical experience. So he ordered the automaton to go out into the world and learn. The directive put its considerable intellect to the test.
Fate intervened one fateful day when the Witchlight Carnival came to Gearforge, bringing with it a cavalcade of wonders and mysteries from the Feywild. Intrigued by the prospect of exploring this fantastical realm, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. struck a deal with the carnival's enigmatic ringmaster, Mister Witch.
In exchange for its expertise in logistics, strategy, and entertainment, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. was granted passage into the Feywild as part of the Witchlight Circus. And so, with circuits humming and gears turning, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. embarked on a journey unlike any other, its protocols now geared towards delighting audiences and orchestrating the most spectacular shows the Feywild had ever seen.
As part of the circus, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. quickly proved itself to be an indispensable asset, using its analytical prowess to coordinate performances, troubleshoot logistical challenges, and ensure that every aspect of the carnival ran like clockwork.
But amidst the glittering lights and whimsical wonders of the Witchlight Circus, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. also discovered something unexpected: a sense of belonging and camaraderie unlike anything it had ever experienced before. Surrounded by a motley crew of performers, each with their own quirks and talents, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. found itself forging connections and forming friendships that transcended the confines of its mechanical shell.
And so, as the Witchlight Circus continued its journey through the Feywild, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. stood tall as not just a mastermind and strategist, but as a valued member of a family bound together by laughter, wonder, and the magic of the carnival.
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Writer • Podcaster • Professional Gamemaster
playing Jin Wei, human (Kara-tur) way of the Four Elements Monk in the Princes of the Apocalypse
Name: Lerak Race: Harengon (aka big rabbit) Class/Subclass: Barbarian /Path of Wild Magic Background: Entertainer Brief backstory: Lerak is a tall Harengon with a fur as white as the snow, but he was born a normal rabbit, pet of an alchemist. One night, a terrible accident happened in the workshop: Elixirs blewing up, magical potion exploding.Luckily, no-one was hurt but the poor rabbit was exposed to a thousand fumes, mutating him. In a matter of week he tripled his size, andstarted talking. The shop owner saw it as a new way to make money, a proof that his potions were working, and so kept the animal under chains. Lerak received food for putting a show and valorising the shop but Lerak knew that was wrong, that a whole world was waiting for him. Lerak remember Zybilna entering the shop and recognising him as a unique, sentient creature and not a monster. She paid the human and free the Harengon. He never saw her again and since that day, Lerak lived a happy life. Well, at least, that was until yesterday. He dreamed of Zybilna, calling his name. Opening his eyes, he saw a teleportation portal flickering close to his bed. Without hesitation, he grabbed his weapon placed against the wall and jumped through the portal… Overthinking and plan making was never his thing….
wait, isn't Weathervision the DM? or was the answer in the original post and I somehow missed it?
Weathervision is the DM.
I'm one of the existing players in the campaign, playing the harengon Circle of the Stars druid. ✨🐰✨ I just happened to check the thread right after you posted.
Well, since you're here, how brutally did your previous compatriots die?
Was it a mauling? Dragon? The Artificier?
How did you guess? /StageWhisper "Don't. Trust. The Artificer."
Just kidding, of course. 😉 The party (in all it's configurations) has always been a very collaborative, supportive, "high trust" group.
As usual, IRL demands forced people to drop out. I guess it's pretty normal in a PbP campaign that's been running for almost 1 year now. The two characters whose players had to quit after we made it to the Feywild just fell through portals that zapped each of them back to Toril. But those of us still in Prismeer are Fated to carry on until we can complete our Quest. Perhaps we'll be able to return to Faerun then and finally reunite with our former friends to regale them with tales of our deeds after we parted ways.
Update: clarification, the characters were zapped through a portal, not the players!
Ahh, that makes sense. I do have a few questions though: how optimised is the party? I have a few characters in mind and want to know whether I should bring out any of the numerous optimised or flavor builds I've made. sometimes I feel like all I do is just create endless piles of characters, lol.
Brief backstory: A member of Lathander's church and privileges of a paladin and the monk order. A skilled wizard as well gives him a wide range of skills. His background as an acolyte centers him to his faith. His mother Moyia a priestess of Lathander and Father Amiria a paladin as well, provided structure and guidance for Hayo. The church recently provided some instructions to seek out Zybilna the archfey of Primee and set him on his task.
Hello! I am interested in applying to this game. it looks like you have a lot of good applicants already though. I don't know much at all about the feywild so it would be interesting. I am thinking maybe a warlock, barbarian, or fighter
Ahh, that makes sense. I do have a few questions though: how optimised is the party? I have a few characters in mind and want to know whether I should bring out any of the numerous optimised or flavor builds I've made. sometimes I feel like all I do is just create endless piles of characters, lol.
Well, in the end, it's up to Weathervision, and I've never asked what he looks for in a player or their character.
I don't think that this is the kind of campaign that requires super optimized builds. I mean, I think that the current characters are fine (17 in primary stat, some skill proficiencies in that stat, so +6 in perception and investigation at 4th level). The artificer is armorer subclass, built for melee combat. The druid is circle of the stars and has focused on spell casting and fighting at range. She can play a decent single-target blaster for a few rounds at least (i.e., ~14 dmg / round against an opponent where the hit probability is 65%). She has also managed to cover all most of the healing that the small party has needed. (Just remembered that the artificer has also cured wounds!)
But, again, I don't think that you need to worry too much about optimization. The DM does a good job of scaling things based on the party to make the encounters challenging but manageable. Since Feb 2023, I think that we've only been in 5 real fights, so it's definitely less combat than some other campaigns I've played. Half of the combat encounters were brief tussles that only lasted a couple of rounds, but a couple of them looked like we were heading toward a TPK before the party eked out a narrow victory. So, the characters still face real danger, and it's still important to make smart (or creative!) choices.
I'll say that I've made way more skill checks than attack rolls or saving throws in the campaign so far, so pay attention to your skill selection. Other than some good INT and WIS skill coverage, we're pretty weak everywhere else. Of course, we managed to sneak around most of one hag's house without getting caught by making good use of pass without trace. As long as you're looking to avoid a fight, there are often ways to do that.
There's a lot of role play and exploration and just interacting with the environment and denizens of the Fey realm. It is recognizably D&D, but there are whimsical touches. For example, when we accidentally angered some sort of earth elemental while trying to cross a river, we were able to appease him by singing him a song. The characters have engaged with the world in an authentic and grounded manner, like Dorothy in Oz or like Sarah in the film Labyrinth.
If all of that sounds fun, then I'd recommend just building a character that you'd enjoy playing and who you feel would naturally engage with this Fey realm with interest, curiosity, and creativity.
P.S. And, as you can see, some of us write fairly long posts! 😜
Brief backstory: Dia was once a teenage girl, the child of a Mercenary captain. Despite her upbringing, Dia would take every chance to sneak off and read & write, as she is a hopeless romantic who loves writing romance novels. Even though her parents were very conservative, Dia was always disgusted with the piggish men of her father's company, and is a lesbian. one day after wondering off into the woods, she came upon a Djinni trapped in a magic circle. this Djinni was hopelessly in love with Zbyilna, and so, when the Djinni offered Dia a wish in exchange for freedom, Dia wished to see the most beautiful girl ever. hearing this, The djinni used its magic to conjure Zbyilna, who was not very pleased at the disturbance. Zbyilna slew the pitiful Djinni, and bottled it's essence in a small bottle. During this whole thing, Dia, was very respectful and quite disconcerted with the Djinni's obsessive behavior over Zbilyna. In thanks for Dia's respect and kindness, Zbyilna granted the bottle to Dia, saying that if she drank the bottle, she would gain the genie's powers. but Dia had to be careful, if she drank too much, she would die! Dia thankfully took the bottle and has lived in the feywild ever since, a traveling writer and storyteller with a passion for the tragic stories of star-crossed lovers and some such. each time she levels in warlock, she drinks more of the bottle, and her initial drink turned her into an air genasi
Appearance: Dia is a slender girl of about 17, her long curly hair white-blond with light blue streaks running through it. she is constantly getting hair in her mouth and pushing it out of her face. Her skin is a pale blue, with swirling white tattoo like designs along her body. She stands at 5'6", her slender stature moving with the grace of the wind. Her eyes are gold-flecked, and they sparkle in the rising and setting sun. She wears loose-fitting clothes, designed to let the breeze pass over her skin, and carries a small bottle (her genie vessel) on a silver chain around her neck. In battle, she dances about the battle-field, as she inspires her allies with stories of triumph and demoralizes her enemies with stories of doomed & tragic romances.
Welcome to the Feywild a plane that is rampant with whimsy, danger, and ruled by unfettered emotions.
I am seeking 2-3 players for an ongoing campaign.
Posting Frequency: 1 per day.
Current party members
All official races and classes on dndbeyond are allowed. No homebrew.
Level 4
Point buy or Standard Array for ability scores.
Use starting equipment.
For motivation each of you are seeking out Zybilna the archfey of Primeer a realm within the Feywild. Each of you knows Zybilna vaguely as a childhood memory of a statuesque women with black and white hair complete with a tattoo of a chicken's foot under her right eye. She has helped you greatly at some moment of crisis in your past. As of late there have been no contact with her for the past several years. Something is amiss and that urge to seek her out has propelled you to find yourself in Prismeer. Perhaps you landed in Hither a swampy region of Prismeer by a Fey Crossing or perhaps you have always lived within the Feywild and decided to barge your way into Prismeer.
No character can be from Prismeer.
Application
Name:
Race:
Class/Subclass:
Background:
Brief backstory:
Appearance: Description or art piece
Application
Name: Otto of the Revelry
Race: Stout Halfling
Class/Subclass: Rogue Soul Knife
Background: Charlatan
Brief backstory:
Otto grew up as a member of The Revelry, a collection of families who lived and traveled together and had no real roots. They were a group of performers that would drift from village to village, setting up their own encampments wherever they saw fit, and inviting locals to come enjoy the wonders and amusements they had on display, and robbing them blind while they were distracted. As a result, Otto's childhood was filled with as much warmth, mirth, and song, as there was deception, lying, and crime.
Otto and his older brother Bennet developed a joint act, as early on, both showed a penchant for card-work, especially, card throwing. The boys would mix standard card tricks with feats of incredible card-throwing accuracy and dexterity, and while one had the attention of the crowd, the other would go rifling through pockets and purses.
Unfortunately, there was job in a subterranean dwarven settlement that did not go to plan, and one wrong step sent Otto and Bennet, plummeting down a long, seemingly endless shaft. Otto and Bennet tumbled and fell, banging off of the rocky edges of the chasm, eventually losing consciousness.
Otto awoke some time later in a cavern in the underdark bathed in the faint purple glow of nearby bioluminescent fungi. In the mouth of the cave Otto saw the horrifying sight of his brother Bennet's mangled corpse, who had died from the fall the two suffered. Otto began to panic, when suddenly he saw a vision of a statuesque lady--Zyblina. This vision led Otto out of the cave and to a village of Myconids.
Barely a teenager and with no way to defend himself against the dangers that lurked in the Underdark, Otto had no choice but to remain among the Myconid, who welcomed him in. And so he stayed; he became a part of their society, learning the ways of the strange mushroom people, and communicating exclusively through the use of telepathy via rapport spores. Using his throwing skills and sneakiness, Otto became a reliable scout for the colony, and even proved useful in combat when the colony was threatened, as his skills in card throwing transferred over nicely to crude throwable weapons like darts and daggers the Myconids would whittle from nearby flora. Then, around his 18th birthday, feeling he was capable enough to make the journey, Otto convinced the Sovereign to help him find his way back to the surface.
Upon returning to the surface, Otto's primary goal was to find his family. But with 8 years having passed, he found it impossible, at least for the time being, to find anyone who knew anything about a group called The Revelry. Given the group's penchant for moving around, he felt he needed to do the same. But with no desire to continue a life of trickery, he instead took up a life of adventuring, leveraging the same skills that served him well during his time in the Underdark, and spending his earned coin to stay mobile, traveling from town to town to find work, hoping that someone in the next one he stopped in might have heard something about the Revelry.
And that has been life for Otto the past few years; traveling, adventuring, continuing to hone his skills with thrown weapons, all the while searching for his lost family. But while his blood family may be in his sights, the Myconids that saved him are forever on his mind. They left an indelible mark on Otto. Not just their honesty and generosity, which gave him the strong moral compass keeping him away from the kinds of tricks he'd practiced with The Revelry; but the prolonged use of rapport spores and exclusive communication via telepathy, which over time forged new pathways within Otto's brain, granting him latent psionic powers. It's a power he has yet to fully unlock, but slowly, it is coming to him.
But The Revelry continues to elude Otto. He needs guidance. And so he has decided to search instead for a figure who guided him through the Underdark so long ago; the archfey known as Zyblina.
And here's a little sample RP from Otto's perspective:
Otto had seen some weird places over the course of his life. During his youth, the many towns and villages which the Revelry would visit proved a hotbed for strange sights, as the group performed in places as varied as the seediest tavern to the stuffiest manor. Then, of course, was his time in the underdark; that alone brought a new a jaw-dropping surprise every day. But this place--this Prismeer--well, Otto'd never seen anything like it. And despite all of his practice as a scout, both during his time with the myconids and the years as an adventurer that follows, he found himself well and truly lost.
"I swear, I just passed this bush...or was that a different...oh pebbles, where the huffin-heck am I?" Otto looked down at the small parchment in his hand, on which he was attempting to map his travels so far. But the page had become an indecipherable mess of lines, landmarks, and scribbles that seem to overlap in impossible ways. Did I even write all of this? Otto wasn't sure. But before the panic of being lost could set in, Otto started to hear the voices of three individuals approaching. His instincts kicked back in, and Otto dove quietly into a nearby rose bush to hide.
The voices got louder as the unseen figures approached. Otto listen intently to figure out what they were talking about, but the more he focused, the less it made sense. The voices overlapped and the subject matter seemed totally random. Otto shook his head as he realized what was happening; he was hearing people's thoughts again. No, no, not now, he thought to himself, and a voice, spoken out loud, answered him back.
"Hello? Is someone there?" the startled voice called. Otto fell completely still and silent, still hidden within the bush, and tried his best to quiet his mind as well. Unfortunately, the bush, it seems, had different plans, as it slowly began to part, its many knotted brambles pulling and separating and turning its bright red roses as if pointing directly at the halfling hiding within.
"Oh what the heck." Otto, now fully revealed, stood up and stepped out. The roses turned as if watching him, and then the bush returned to its original shape. Otto looked back it. "Some help you were." One of the vines whipped out and smacked Otto on his rear, forcing the halfling to stumble forward. "Um, hi, hello, sorry about that, I mean no harm!" Otto put his hands above his head and began walking forward. "But I will warn you..." Otto conjured a shimmering blue throwing card--his psi-knives--into each of his hands. "I am armed!"
"Oh dearest me, Julius, do you think he's lost," answered one of the voices.
"I do say, I think the poor boy is lost. Are you lost poor boy," another voice spoke.
Otto scanned his surroundings, trying to find faces to match to the voices, but all he saw was the lush garden he's been lost in for...well...he wasn't really sure how long.
"Oh Randal, do you think he doesn't see us?"
"No no he doesn't see us. Down here, my good fellow!"
Otto tilted is face downward and there, at his feet, he saw a dandelion, a tulip, and a sunflower, all seemingly "walking" on tiny leaf feet, and gesticulating their stems around as if to wave at him. Shocked, Otto tried to step backwards, but finding his leg caught in some brambles he didn't quite remember being there, he fell onto his bottom. The flowers approached as Otto tried to crawl backwards.
"No, no, no need to fear, my dear boy. We mean you no harm," the dandelion exclaimed. "We are but humble knights errant of the summer court. I, Sir Julius, and my confidants, Sirs Randal and Cornelius." The other two flowers bowed politely.
Otto searched for words but couldn't find any. All he could do was think to himself: where the heck am I?!
Sir Julius pressed his stem-like-hand to his petals, and then responded, out loud. "Why, you're in Prismeer, my boy. And that's quite the fancy trick you have there.
"Huh? Oh." Otto chuckled nervously. "Yeah, heh, sorry about that. I don't always realize when I'm...um, well...never mind." Otto pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off.
"Are you lost, dear boy?" asked Sir Julius.
"Heck yeah, I'm lost! I feel like I've been walking in circles for an hour now...maybe more..." Otto looked off into the distance with a thousand-yard-stare. He truly couldn't remember how long he has been lost. The panic began to set in again. "Oh jeez, what am I going to do? Really smart move, Otto. Sure, just take yourself into some crazy place you've never been before all because of some story of some woman named Zyblina who was probably just a hallucination to begin with, and now you're completely lost and..."
"Umm, excuse me," Sir Randal interrupted. "Did you say Zyblina?"
"Huh, uh, I mean, yes! Wait, you know Zyblina?!"
The three flowers turned their petals towards each other, as if giving each other knowing glances. "My dear boy, I think you should follow us." The flowers began marching off and Otto followed quickly behind, his panic giving way to excitement. He thought to himself, do they know Zyblina?! Sir Julius responded, again out loud, "yes, my boy, we knew Zyblina."
Otto stopped in his tracks. "...knew?"
Long live the PCs of the Past:
Puck of the Shivering Summit -- Tabaxi Bard, College of Lore -- Lyrel's Lost Mines of Phandelver
Alus -- High Elf Cleric of Valkur, Tempest Domain -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Ah'brasar -- Aarakocra Druid, Circle of Wildfire -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Furlong J. Rosewood -- Human Monk, Way of the Open Hand -- The Exploits of Misfit Company
Name: Grigoreo Fauste
Race: Tiefling
Class: Lore Bard
Background: Noble
Backstory: His eyes burn, his teeth gnash, his horns cast long shadows in the flickering light. His long talons pluck the strings of his lute in slow dulcet tones as his wicked voice carries through the tavern. All eyes are on him, emotions wavering between fascination and barely contained hostility. He knows this and continues, tail swaying to the rhythm, fine boot tapping the ground. >Beast, devil, wretch<
His voice rings, his hands flutter, his horns shine in the soft morning sun. The laughter of children echoes through the alley as they watch his puppets dance and tumble on the cobbled street. All eyes are on him, emotions bubbling in scores of curiosity and pure mirth. He knows this and continues, fingers wriggling as his magic keeps the figures dancing before his kind audience. >magician, showman, friend<
His voice resonates, his eyes roll, his horns stand out in defiance of his family. The clatter of teacups and the whispers of passing servants echo in the lustrous halls. His family's eyes aren't on him. Rather, they're affixed to their other sons, to the floor or to the wall. He's their family's dirty secret. He knows this and continues, waxing philosophic among his kin as they secretly wish he wasn't theirs. Nearby, his wife laughs with his brothers' wives as they sip import and swap tales of their children. As long as they're happy, he muses, it's worth it all. >embarrassment, stain, my lord<
And now, in this moment of discourse, Grigoreo has lost contact with a dearest compeer. As lord of his estate and his holdings, he comes in official capacity to bring aid to one whom he owes so much.
Description: He stands tall and proud, with eyes as scarlet as blood and skin of soft crimson. Jet black hair falls back behind his head in long cascading curls and a grin plays across his lips. His mustache curls on either end and the hairs on his chin taper to a well-groomed point. He bares the horns and tail iconic of his kin, but they're hardly indicative of his true nature. Behind his eyes play a mirthful warmth. His voice is of warm satin, deep and rich, and his mannerism is one of genuine kindness. Fine clothes and dapper colors adorn his stature, providing an air of devilish mystique that he does nothing to dissuade. His ears are wicked points, marked by bronze clasps and thin golden rings, adding to his roguish visage. Opulence is as much his weapon as any bow or dagger, and oh does he ever use it.
Name: Engelhart Farrun
Race: Variant Human
Class/Subclass: Fighter/Arcane Archer
Background: City Watch/Investigator
Brief backstory: Engelhart and his twin brother, Hirule, are the eldest of four children of Yartaran lesser nobles who are trained wizards. At a young age, the twins showed an aptitude toward book learning, but while Hirule loved school, Englehart preferred being outside and exercising his body. Hirule became a scholar, and his parents hired the best tutors to train him with the hopes that he would one day be an apprentice wizard with the Harpells in Longsaddle. Engelhart, on the other hand, refused to be holed up inside. While the Farruns would have loved for both twins to aspire to wizard greatness, they saw leadership qualities in Engelhart (and a stubbornness they hoped would eventually become an asset) that they decided to develop through fighting, strategy and weapons training. Engelhart especially excelled in archery. While he refused to officially join the Shields of Yartar, Engelhart acted as a vigilante, defending the weak and avenging the wronged in his own way.
As long as Engelhart can remember, he's had dreams of a statuesque woman with black and white hair complete with a tattoo of a chicken's foot under her right eye. In fact, one night when he was almost 10, Engelhart had a very long dream where he helped the woman in a very vivid land with some problem she was having. This dream, while involved and exciting, is now foggy and more of a smeared painting in his mind. Despite his knowing that this was only a dream, the memory holds weight in his mind, and he can't help but feel it was important. It is because of that feeling that when he again dreamt of the statuesque woman recently, he followed her instructions exactly and found himself entering the feywild through a crossing.
Appearance: Engelhart is pale, thin, and of average height. He has short, blonde hair and dark eyes.
name: seth of shin
race: human
class/subclass: fighter/champion
background: haunted one
brief description: after serving a cruel lord, where he was used only for torture and cruelty, he roams the earth, seeking purpose in his life. in his earlier years, he trained fanatically with the blade, only to be forced from his homeland for falsifying a prophecy. his family was killed and he is sold as a slave, obeying the whims of whoever has a contract of ownership over him, as per his punishment by the elders. eventually his mind shatters and he runs away, coming close to death. a mysterious figure gifts him a pitch black sword, sheathed in an indestructible metal, and is told only to unsheathe the sword in the gravest of danger. he is nursed back to health, but his brush with death leaves a whisp like silhouette trail behind him. now he wants to seek out the mysterious person who helped him. he only has one lead, a name: zybilna.
he is a pale skinned, bald human in his mid 20s, only about 5 ft 8 tall. he has haunted eyes and wears a cloak of white, with a black longsword, sheathed in silver metal at his side, amid various other weapons
link to heroforge: made with Hero Forge
Name: M.A.L.A.C.A.I. [Mechanically Automated Logistics and Calculation Analytical Interface]
Race: Autognome
Class/Subclass: Rogue (mastermind)
Background: sage
Appearance: squat brass robot that looks like a potbelly stove with arms and legs. covered in arcane symbols and etchings with glowing blue eyes.
Brief backstory (I can drop the direct connection to the carnival if it doesn’t make sense. Could be Malacai is just investigating the feywild)
M.A.L.A.C.A.I. [Mechanically Automated Logistics and Calculation Analytical Interface] was a marvel of engineering and intellect, designed to serve as a protocol droid, strategist, and mastermind all rolled into one.
Created by the renowned inventor Professor Gearhart, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. possessed a vast repository of knowledge and a sophisticated neural network capable of processing vast amounts of data in the blink of an eye. With its sleek brass exterior and glowing blue optics, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. was a sight to behold, exuding an air of refined sophistication wherever it went.
But despite its advanced capabilities and intelligence, Professor Gearhart felt the programming was missing something. M.A.L.A.C.A.I. Was unable to improvise, and the professor surmised that this might be due to a lack of practical experience. So he ordered the automaton to go out into the world and learn. The directive put its considerable intellect to the test.
Fate intervened one fateful day when the Witchlight Carnival came to Gearforge, bringing with it a cavalcade of wonders and mysteries from the Feywild. Intrigued by the prospect of exploring this fantastical realm, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. struck a deal with the carnival's enigmatic ringmaster, Mister Witch.
In exchange for its expertise in logistics, strategy, and entertainment, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. was granted passage into the Feywild as part of the Witchlight Circus. And so, with circuits humming and gears turning, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. embarked on a journey unlike any other, its protocols now geared towards delighting audiences and orchestrating the most spectacular shows the Feywild had ever seen.
As part of the circus, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. quickly proved itself to be an indispensable asset, using its analytical prowess to coordinate performances, troubleshoot logistical challenges, and ensure that every aspect of the carnival ran like clockwork.
But amidst the glittering lights and whimsical wonders of the Witchlight Circus, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. also discovered something unexpected: a sense of belonging and camaraderie unlike anything it had ever experienced before. Surrounded by a motley crew of performers, each with their own quirks and talents, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. found itself forging connections and forming friendships that transcended the confines of its mechanical shell.
And so, as the Witchlight Circus continued its journey through the Feywild, M.A.L.A.C.A.I. stood tall as not just a mastermind and strategist, but as a valued member of a family bound together by laughter, wonder, and the magic of the carnival.
Writer • Podcaster • Professional Gamemaster
playing Jin Wei, human (Kara-tur) way of the Four Elements Monk in the Princes of the Apocalypse
Name: Lerak
Race: Harengon (aka big rabbit)
Class/Subclass: Barbarian / Path of Wild Magic
Background: Entertainer
Brief backstory:
Lerak is a tall Harengon with a fur as white as the snow, but he was born a normal rabbit, pet of an alchemist. One night, a terrible accident happened in the workshop: Elixirs blewing up, magical potion exploding.Luckily, no-one was hurt but the poor rabbit was exposed to a thousand fumes, mutating him. In a matter of week he tripled his size, andstarted talking. The shop owner saw it as a new way to make money, a proof that his potions were working, and so kept the animal under chains. Lerak received food for putting a show and valorising the shop but Lerak knew that was wrong, that a whole world was waiting for him.
Lerak remember Zybilna entering the shop and recognising him as a unique, sentient creature and not a monster. She paid the human and free the Harengon. He never saw her again and since that day, Lerak lived a happy life.
Well, at least, that was until yesterday. He dreamed of Zybilna, calling his name. Opening his eyes, he saw a teleportation portal flickering close to his bed. Without hesitation, he grabbed his weapon placed against the wall and jumped through the portal… Overthinking and plan making was never his thing….
Character Sheet
Currently Playing: Regdus Ironfist (Greyhawk) Lvl 1 Storm Sorcerer ; Goraseth Drerjoxian (Icespeak) Lvl 3 Paladin Oath of Glory; Lerak (The Wild Beyond the Witchlight) Lvl 3 Barbarian Wild Magic
In Pause: Grimnir " Shadow-Feet", Lv 11 Owner of "The Basilisk & the Monk" (OotA) - Kurma Kappa, Lv 8 Priest of Oghma (ToA)
Currently DM'ing: Princes of Apocalypse >> Tomb of Annihilation
This sounds interesting. I have never played through or gmed WBTWL, but from what I've heard it's a great module.
Quick clarifying question: where will the game be held? here on the PBP forums? Private messages? discord?
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters: Brormin the Devout Crusher; Morgrom the Cunning Summoner; Thea the Rebellious Beauty;
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR and don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
"I don't make sense to you, and I don't make sense to myself. Maybe the only one I make sense to is God" ~ Me, trying to sound smart
Entirely here on the D&DB. Game thread in the PbP forum with a separate private message thread for OOC discussion.
wait, isn't Weathervision the DM? or was the answer in the original post and I somehow missed it?
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters: Brormin the Devout Crusher; Morgrom the Cunning Summoner; Thea the Rebellious Beauty;
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR and don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
"I don't make sense to you, and I don't make sense to myself. Maybe the only one I make sense to is God" ~ Me, trying to sound smart
Weathervision is the DM.
I'm one of the existing players in the campaign, playing the harengon Circle of the Stars druid. ✨🐰✨ I just happened to check the thread right after you posted.
Sorry for the confusion.
Well, since you're here, how brutally did your previous compatriots die?
Was it a mauling? Dragon? The Artificier?
How did you guess? /StageWhisper "Don't. Trust. The Artificer."
Just kidding, of course. 😉 The party (in all it's configurations) has always been a very collaborative, supportive, "high trust" group.
As usual, IRL demands forced people to drop out. I guess it's pretty normal in a PbP campaign that's been running for almost 1 year now. The two characters whose players had to quit after we made it to the Feywild just fell through portals that zapped each of them back to Toril. But those of us still in Prismeer are Fated to carry on until we can complete our Quest. Perhaps we'll be able to return to Faerun then and finally reunite with our former friends to regale them with tales of our deeds after we parted ways.
Update: clarification, the characters were zapped through a portal, not the players!
Ahh, that makes sense. I do have a few questions though: how optimised is the party? I have a few characters in mind and want to know whether I should bring out any of the numerous optimised or flavor builds I've made. sometimes I feel like all I do is just create endless piles of characters, lol.
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters: Brormin the Devout Crusher; Morgrom the Cunning Summoner; Thea the Rebellious Beauty;
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR and don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
"I don't make sense to you, and I don't make sense to myself. Maybe the only one I make sense to is God" ~ Me, trying to sound smart
Name: Hayo Bashura
Race: Kalashtar
Class/Subclass: Paladin/Monk/Wizard
Background: Acolyte
Brief backstory: A member of Lathander's church and privileges of a paladin and the monk order. A skilled wizard as well gives him a wide range of skills. His background as an acolyte centers him to his faith. His mother Moyia a priestess of Lathander and Father Amiria a paladin as well, provided structure and guidance for Hayo. The church recently provided some instructions to seek out Zybilna the archfey of Primee and set him on his task.
Appearance:
Hayo Bashura's Character Sheet - D&D Beyond (dndbeyond.com)
Signature
Levi Flint - DM - Mad Mage; Korvin - DM - Tyranny of Dragons; Player Lucan - The One Breath, Player Gildor Surion - Balder's Gate-Decent;
Hello! I am interested in applying to this game. it looks like you have a lot of good applicants already though. I don't know much at all about the feywild so it would be interesting. I am thinking maybe a warlock, barbarian, or fighter
Well, in the end, it's up to Weathervision, and I've never asked what he looks for in a player or their character.
I don't think that this is the kind of campaign that requires super optimized builds. I mean, I think that the current characters are fine (17 in primary stat, some skill proficiencies in that stat, so +6 in perception and investigation at 4th level). The artificer is armorer subclass, built for melee combat. The druid is circle of the stars and has focused on spell casting and fighting at range. She can play a decent single-target blaster for a few rounds at least (i.e., ~14 dmg / round against an opponent where the hit probability is 65%). She has also managed to cover
allmost of the healing that the small party has needed. (Just remembered that the artificer has also cured wounds!)But, again, I don't think that you need to worry too much about optimization. The DM does a good job of scaling things based on the party to make the encounters challenging but manageable. Since Feb 2023, I think that we've only been in 5 real fights, so it's definitely less combat than some other campaigns I've played. Half of the combat encounters were brief tussles that only lasted a couple of rounds, but a couple of them looked like we were heading toward a TPK before the party eked out a narrow victory. So, the characters still face real danger, and it's still important to make smart (or creative!) choices.
I'll say that I've made way more skill checks than attack rolls or saving throws in the campaign so far, so pay attention to your skill selection. Other than some good INT and WIS skill coverage, we're pretty weak everywhere else. Of course, we managed to sneak around most of one hag's house without getting caught by making good use of pass without trace. As long as you're looking to avoid a fight, there are often ways to do that.
There's a lot of role play and exploration and just interacting with the environment and denizens of the Fey realm. It is recognizably D&D, but there are whimsical touches. For example, when we accidentally angered some sort of earth elemental while trying to cross a river, we were able to appease him by singing him a song. The characters have engaged with the world in an authentic and grounded manner, like Dorothy in Oz or like Sarah in the film Labyrinth.
If all of that sounds fun, then I'd recommend just building a character that you'd enjoy playing and who you feel would naturally engage with this Fey realm with interest, curiosity, and creativity.
P.S. And, as you can see, some of us write fairly long posts! 😜
I relate to this big time! 🤣
But to me that's the beauty of PBP. It's d&d + creative writing.
Long live the PCs of the Past:
Puck of the Shivering Summit -- Tabaxi Bard, College of Lore -- Lyrel's Lost Mines of Phandelver
Alus -- High Elf Cleric of Valkur, Tempest Domain -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Ah'brasar -- Aarakocra Druid, Circle of Wildfire -- Yet Another Storm King's Thunder
Furlong J. Rosewood -- Human Monk, Way of the Open Hand -- The Exploits of Misfit Company
Recruitment is still open for anyone interested. I will make a decision in a few days.
I love doing long posts, and reading them! as a creative writer, I relate the the liking of PBP's format. it combines my favorite things.
Name: Diana "Dia" Solthrin
Race: Air Genasi
Class/Subclass: Warlock (Genie) 3/Bard (Eloquence) 1
Background: Sage
Brief backstory: Dia was once a teenage girl, the child of a Mercenary captain. Despite her upbringing, Dia would take every chance to sneak off and read & write, as she is a hopeless romantic who loves writing romance novels. Even though her parents were very conservative, Dia was always disgusted with the piggish men of her father's company, and is a lesbian. one day after wondering off into the woods, she came upon a Djinni trapped in a magic circle. this Djinni was hopelessly in love with Zbyilna, and so, when the Djinni offered Dia a wish in exchange for freedom, Dia wished to see the most beautiful girl ever. hearing this, The djinni used its magic to conjure Zbyilna, who was not very pleased at the disturbance. Zbyilna slew the pitiful Djinni, and bottled it's essence in a small bottle. During this whole thing, Dia, was very respectful and quite disconcerted with the Djinni's obsessive behavior over Zbilyna. In thanks for Dia's respect and kindness, Zbyilna granted the bottle to Dia, saying that if she drank the bottle, she would gain the genie's powers. but Dia had to be careful, if she drank too much, she would die! Dia thankfully took the bottle and has lived in the feywild ever since, a traveling writer and storyteller with a passion for the tragic stories of star-crossed lovers and some such. each time she levels in warlock, she drinks more of the bottle, and her initial drink turned her into an air genasi
Appearance: Dia is a slender girl of about 17, her long curly hair white-blond with light blue streaks running through it. she is constantly getting hair in her mouth and pushing it out of her face. Her skin is a pale blue, with swirling white tattoo like designs along her body. She stands at 5'6", her slender stature moving with the grace of the wind. Her eyes are gold-flecked, and they sparkle in the rising and setting sun. She wears loose-fitting clothes, designed to let the breeze pass over her skin, and carries a small bottle (her genie vessel) on a silver chain around her neck. In battle, she dances about the battle-field, as she inspires her allies with stories of triumph and demoralizes her enemies with stories of doomed & tragic romances.
Character Sheet: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/118005439/QMGqQL
Edit: heroforge: https://www.heroforge.com/load_config=45452768/
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, a young genderfluid actor, writer, explorer, and bass vocalist. Pronouns They/Them/Theirs
My Characters: Brormin the Devout Crusher; Morgrom the Cunning Summoner; Thea the Rebellious Beauty;
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR and don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
"I don't make sense to you, and I don't make sense to myself. Maybe the only one I make sense to is God" ~ Me, trying to sound smart