This is for Stories of your characters be it their great deals or from demise...this is a No judge zone...we all do dumb things sometimes...wesometimes...we're only human after all
One of my characters became a demigod...The Embodiment of war...it took three ballista bolts,200 arrows,several spears and A metric F ton of stabs and slashes to finally take him down...
Here is the scene "Sergei Stood bloodied his massive greatsword in one hand...His other hand on his other blade, he lets out one last war cry"GLORY OR VALHALLA!!!" And makes his last stand in the throne room...After a Very long,Grim and brutal battle Sergei stood their his jet black heavy articulated plate mail filled with arrows,spears,swords and daggers stuck out of him...they had rolled in 3 ballistas sometime during the battle(Percentile check) they fire one flies and hits his lower abdomen,this enrages Sergei.. The second hits the right side of his chest this causes him to scream but not falter...the third found the spot next to the second Sergei steps back,coughs up blood and drops to one knee and though sheer bloody will he stands(Con and strength save) and lets out his war cry once more...he is met with 100 arrows,he steps back and slides into the throne...sword in hand...his Burgundy eyes shut...and his body Becomes stuck there...It is said his enemies Respected Sergei because of this he saved the lives of the king,Queen and princess as well as his fellow adventurers...
A voice calls out..."Rise my child...you will be granted vengeance...soon enough"
End scene I love my dm as he made my last stand hella dramatic... Btw Sergei would rise again...as Skorge The Death knight...he would eventually take revenge and return to his mountain home...He had gained near immortality and now my dm references him and lets me use him occasionally but he has gotten too op at this point...he has t...He has one really dumb weakness...He is unable to go to the afterlife...The one thing he wants
He was visited by many Gods Loviatar, goddess of pain
Talona, goddess of disease and poison
Lathander, god of birth and renewal
Leira, goddess of illusion
Oghma, god of knowledge
Savras, god of divination and fate
Bhaal, god of murder
Kelemvor, god of the dead
Bane, god of tyranny
Tempus, god of war
Shar, goddess of darkness and loss
Myrkul, god of death
Mystra, goddess of magic
Selûne, goddess of the moon
Tyr, god of justice
And many more
Each one bestoed a gift unto him...each at a cost...he is no longer human and any attacks get a 5 extra d20s for damage if using Anti celestial weapons or anti infernal weapons, but he can create a permanent undead and grant them Unlife like him they also infused skorge's blade with this Curse( All who wield this blade shall know suffering, madness,knowledge and power inconceivable at the cost that he shall never know rest...he shall forever wander...as death,as war, as a outcast..."
I tried to interrupt the curse the curse but rolled a nat 1
They tacked in
"...He shall Bring Death,balance and our will to the mortals...he shall be our blade...and act as our Guardian...he shall Be a knight,a champion...a harbinger...eternal"
They granted him the ability to travel the mutiverse,To raise the dead...and much more...but for every gift they added a curse...More and more he lost his humanity...more and more...he became a monster...any yet...some where in their is Sergei the Warrior, Sergei the father, Sergei the husband, Sergei the friend...
Yes he seems op that is cuz he has survived 13 full campaigns and has gotten to neigh Godhood/Arch demon hood
He is somewhat worshiped as the God of Necessary evil,War,Murder, death,plague,poison, and knowledge but he sees himself still as a just a Guardian protecting the mutiverse...by any means necessary
Is there a way to write about a story that's in a perpetual world and keeps going on no matter what has already happened. cause its interesting what happened to sergei but what is he currently doing is what im trying to figure out.
so felbarn walks into the shrine of sergei and goes to the alter to ask for the gods help to guide him on his path of undeadness, felbarn silently whispers will you show felbarn a sign...
so I made a story awhile back which makes use of drawings to help make it a persistant story, what happens is kaluros is traveling through the peaceful part of a river pass when out of a building with a strange blue crystal on the roof comes out a zombie which he defeats but he finds a clue of where the zombie was from a nearby town called rivervale, so as he gets to the next place that I draw which is a high hill with sounds of fighting to the south which is the only way forward because the hill is to high to travel back safely. but before he can go on he has a flashback or a vision of what happened who the zombie was before-- he was a knight who stood on top of a tower during the battle of rivervale and died protecting his lady and there was like beams of light that landed on him in the drawing. but so then the scene goes back to real time where the lady is to the south and that's the sounds of fighting and kaluros goes to help her make it back to rivervale and there they can finally put her knight to rest.
heres a link https://storium.com/game/freeland/act-2/scene-2 if you want to look over the rest of the story you might find it pretty confusing it is hard to build something that focuses on whats happening in real time that's why it gets confusing but its fun to use flashbacks like I did with the zombies.
and even up to this date I been making some drawings for a story that happens which I haven't picked out a character for the drawings that starts out in a swamp then leads towards a house with one of those blue crystals that is making a zombie that's fueled with ghosts somehow that powers the crystal then theres drawings of a dungeon with like a T intersection when going east its more of a long corridor and then in the next drawing it has a dead end with like a bunch of different doors I think it would be cool if that's where felbarn was at on his way to visiting the shrine maybe there was a way up to the surface and then a road with a path maybe north and east and north goes into some mountains where the shrine is. and maybe also he runs into kaluros who could of been turned into a zombie and up on top of the high hill maybe he finds someone who kaluros helped and clears a path to where they can maybe bury him in the shrine if maybe he gets a sign from the gods that it would be good to do so.
This is the backstory I wrote for my Eberron adventures villain...
The ‘forged moved carefully through the ruins. He moved silently and efficiently through the darkened halls of the tomb. Built for war and uniquely designed for infiltration he had been sent to these long-lost halls with purpose. The mission had been clear. This was the tomb of a long dead warlord once known only as the Thirsting Hatred. In ages past, long before the humans claimed this land, The Thirsting Hatred waged war against his fellow Orcs. Legends whispered in fear spoke of the dark deeds which would have earned such a nickname for the warlord. The winds of time had eroded most of the details but by piecing together legend and folklore the master had managed to hazard an informed guess as to the final resting place of the fiendish warlord and the priceless artifacts it might contain. After searching for years in the war-torn nation in Cyre, deep behind enemy lines, the ‘forged had finally found what the master sought.
Carefully, the ‘forged moved through the ancient halls. What few guardians remained were easy prey for the stealthy warforged. The ‘forged moved into an enormous chamber which resembled some kind of ancient temple. The toppled remains of hobgoblin statues lined the main path through the room, culminating in an ornate set of stone double doors. Faint glowing runes seemed to crawl across the surface of the doors. The ‘forged studied the doors for what seemed an eternity. Slowly and deliberately the ‘forged reached out his hand holding it out just before touching the door. The glowing script seemed to swarm towards the outstretched palm as if desperate for contact. Moving forward barely an inch brought the hand in contact with the door.
Great rumbling shook the crumbling halls as the doors slid apart allowing access to the tomb beyond. Dusty braziers lined the walls and in the center of the room stood an enormous glistening obsidian sarcophagus wrapped in rusted chains. Silent as night, the ‘forged crossed the threshold. The lid was carved in exquisite detail and displayed an evil fanged maw which covered the length of the stone. Each of the ‘forged movements up to this point had been patient and deliberate, making sure no traps or wards awaited him. Now, however, an undeniable urgency filled his stone and steel body, ran rampant along his rootlike sinews. He gripped the edge of the sarcophagus and flipped the lid from the base reducing the age weakened chains to dust. Dust and smoke rose from the interior. Inside the remains of a fierce warrior lay in repose. The flesh had long ago withered until only the dry bones remained, housed in the tattered remnants of age consumed armor. Laying in a double fisted skeletal grip on the chest of the corpse lay an immaculate blade, untouched by time. A long sword of an alien black metal with glittering specks of green throughout, lay upon the ruined corpse. It’s edge un-dulled by the passage of time. The ‘forged slide his hand around the blade and pulled it from the decayed grasp of the corpse. As he did so the remains of the ancient warlord collapse into a putrid billowing cloud.
The ‘forged marveled at the beauty of weapon. The balance was perfect. This was a weapon designed for taking life. He could imagine the feeling of freedom as it cut through the flesh of his foes. He could taste the blood on his lips as the sword drank deeply of their blood, consuming their souls in the process. Each foe cut down fed the blade, sated its unending hunger, his hunger…. Something deep inside of him realized the thoughts were not his own almost too late. He recoiled from the psychic intrusion but could not force himself to drop the blade. “What are you?” The voice echoed in his head. He felt much like an insect, pinned to a board and dissected by some university professor. His thoughts slowed to mush as the presence seemed to flow throughout his mind and body. “You are… different… not a man… but filled with life… with purpose. Tell me do you yet know your purpose?” The ‘forged was held tight, unable to move, but his conscious answered “I was build by House Cannith and sold to Karrnath as a weapon of war”
“A slave then.” The voice interrupted. “Do you not crave your freedom? These weak mortals do not have the power to keep you enslaved. You do that yourself. You allow yourself to be enslaved. I can offer more. A bargain to benefit us both.” A brilliant flash of pain erupted in his mind’s eye and he could see the offer before him, the power being offered. The freedom. What were the humans to him? Slavers. Taskmasters. Years of mistreatment by his Karrnathi masters, treated as nothing but a tool, a thing… property… Without hesitation the ‘forged knew his decision. “I agree.”
The glittering green specks in the blade began to glow sending shifting shadows across the tomb walls. The specks erupted into eerie green flames which quickly spread to his hands and up his arms. The ‘forged screamed in agony as the flames burned deep into his very being. He dropped to his knees as the flames continued to spread. Just as suddenly, the flames dissipated. The ‘forged, still on his knees, looked to his empty hands. The sword was gone but his hands and in fact his entire body seemed to be stained green. Had he been able to see himself, he would have seen the Ghurla, the unique sigil carved upon the forehead of each and every Warforged was gone, burned off by the strange green flames. He slowly got to his feet, hand held out and willed the sword into being. Wispy green smoke appeared and coalesced into the blade gripped tight in his hand. Hunger like he had never felt consumed him… not hunger for food, but hunger for vengeance… for the slaughter of those who would dare to enslave him. A thirsting hatred for the living races who believed him to be lesser than they. No… the Thirsting Hatred was who he once was… what he was now was new. Something more.
The Blade Wraith examined the blade testing the weight and balance. Tilting his head to the side, he gripped the glowing blade in both hands. With a guttural roar, the blade split into two…. Twin sabres formed from what was once a single long sword. With a thought the swords vanished and then reappeared. The Blade Wraith reveled in his newly acquired power as he turned back towards the entrance to the ruins, back towards the weak little creatures that would dare claim ownership over him… and the voice in his head, his new master and partner was pleased…
This is for Stories of your characters be it their great deals or from demise...this is a No judge zone...we all do dumb things sometimes...wesometimes...we're only human after all
Dont put the blame on me
Lol you want to hear something crazy?
One of my characters became a demigod...The Embodiment of war...it took three ballista bolts,200 arrows,several spears and A metric F ton of stabs and slashes to finally take him down...
Here is the scene
"Sergei Stood bloodied his massive greatsword in one hand...His other hand on his other blade, he lets out one last war cry"GLORY OR VALHALLA!!!" And makes his last stand in the throne room...After a Very long,Grim and brutal battle Sergei stood their his jet black heavy articulated plate mail filled with arrows,spears,swords and daggers stuck out of him...they had rolled in 3 ballistas sometime during the battle(Percentile check) they fire one flies and hits his lower abdomen,this enrages Sergei.. The second hits the right side of his chest this causes him to scream but not falter...the third found the spot next to the second Sergei steps back,coughs up blood and drops to one knee and though sheer bloody will he stands(Con and strength save) and lets out his war cry once more...he is met with 100 arrows,he steps back and slides into the throne...sword in hand...his Burgundy eyes shut...and his body Becomes stuck there...It is said his enemies Respected Sergei because of this he saved the lives of the king,Queen and princess as well as his fellow adventurers...
A voice calls out..."Rise my child...you will be granted vengeance...soon enough"
End scene
I love my dm as he made my last stand hella dramatic...
Btw Sergei would rise again...as Skorge The Death knight...he would eventually take revenge and return to his mountain home...He had gained near immortality and now my dm references him and lets me use him occasionally but he has gotten too op at this point...he has t...He has one really dumb weakness...He is unable to go to the afterlife...The one thing he wants
He was visited by many Gods
Loviatar, goddess of pain
Talona, goddess of disease and poison
Lathander, god of birth and renewal
Leira, goddess of illusion
Oghma, god of knowledge
Savras, god of divination and fate
Bhaal, god of murder
Kelemvor, god of the dead
Bane, god of tyranny
Tempus, god of war
Shar, goddess of darkness and loss
Myrkul, god of death
Mystra, goddess of magic
Selûne, goddess of the moon
Tyr, god of justice
And many more
Each one bestoed a gift unto him...each at a cost...he is no longer human and any attacks get a 5 extra d20s for damage if using Anti celestial weapons or anti infernal weapons, but he can create a permanent undead and grant them Unlife like him they also infused skorge's blade with this Curse( All who wield this blade shall know suffering, madness,knowledge and power inconceivable at the cost that he shall never know rest...he shall forever wander...as death,as war, as a outcast..."
I tried to interrupt the curse the curse but rolled a nat 1
They tacked in
"...He shall Bring Death,balance and our will to the mortals...he shall be our blade...and act as our Guardian...he shall Be a knight,a champion...a harbinger...eternal"
They granted him the ability to travel the mutiverse,To raise the dead...and much more...but for every gift they added a curse...More and more he lost his humanity...more and more...he became a monster...any yet...some where in their is Sergei the Warrior, Sergei the father, Sergei the husband, Sergei the friend...
Yes he seems op that is cuz he has survived 13 full campaigns and has gotten to neigh Godhood/Arch demon hood
He is somewhat worshiped as the God of Necessary evil,War,Murder, death,plague,poison, and knowledge but he sees himself still as a just a Guardian protecting the mutiverse...by any means necessary
Is there a way to write about a story that's in a perpetual world and keeps going on no matter what has already happened. cause its interesting what happened to sergei but what is he currently doing is what im trying to figure out.
so felbarn walks into the shrine of sergei and goes to the alter to ask for the gods help to guide him on his path of undeadness, felbarn silently whispers will you show felbarn a sign...
6
Wow Scorge, that is just wow.
so I made a story awhile back which makes use of drawings to help make it a persistant story, what happens is kaluros is traveling through the peaceful part of a river pass when out of a building with a strange blue crystal on the roof comes out a zombie which he defeats but he finds a clue of where the zombie was from a nearby town called rivervale, so as he gets to the next place that I draw which is a high hill with sounds of fighting to the south which is the only way forward because the hill is to high to travel back safely. but before he can go on he has a flashback or a vision of what happened who the zombie was before-- he was a knight who stood on top of a tower during the battle of rivervale and died protecting his lady and there was like beams of light that landed on him in the drawing. but so then the scene goes back to real time where the lady is to the south and that's the sounds of fighting and kaluros goes to help her make it back to rivervale and there they can finally put her knight to rest.
heres a link https://storium.com/game/freeland/act-2/scene-2 if you want to look over the rest of the story you might find it pretty confusing it is hard to build something that focuses on whats happening in real time that's why it gets confusing but its fun to use flashbacks like I did with the zombies.
and even up to this date I been making some drawings for a story that happens which I haven't picked out a character for the drawings that starts out in a swamp then leads towards a house with one of those blue crystals that is making a zombie that's fueled with ghosts somehow that powers the crystal then theres drawings of a dungeon with like a T intersection when going east its more of a long corridor and then in the next drawing it has a dead end with like a bunch of different doors I think it would be cool if that's where felbarn was at on his way to visiting the shrine maybe there was a way up to the surface and then a road with a path maybe north and east and north goes into some mountains where the shrine is. and maybe also he runs into kaluros who could of been turned into a zombie and up on top of the high hill maybe he finds someone who kaluros helped and clears a path to where they can maybe bury him in the shrine if maybe he gets a sign from the gods that it would be good to do so.
This is the backstory I wrote for my Eberron adventures villain...
The ‘forged moved carefully through the ruins. He moved silently and efficiently through the darkened halls of the tomb. Built for war and uniquely designed for infiltration he had been sent to these long-lost halls with purpose. The mission had been clear. This was the tomb of a long dead warlord once known only as the Thirsting Hatred. In ages past, long before the humans claimed this land, The Thirsting Hatred waged war against his fellow Orcs. Legends whispered in fear spoke of the dark deeds which would have earned such a nickname for the warlord. The winds of time had eroded most of the details but by piecing together legend and folklore the master had managed to hazard an informed guess as to the final resting place of the fiendish warlord and the priceless artifacts it might contain. After searching for years in the war-torn nation in Cyre, deep behind enemy lines, the ‘forged had finally found what the master sought.
Carefully, the ‘forged moved through the ancient halls. What few guardians remained were easy prey for the stealthy warforged. The ‘forged moved into an enormous chamber which resembled some kind of ancient temple. The toppled remains of hobgoblin statues lined the main path through the room, culminating in an ornate set of stone double doors. Faint glowing runes seemed to crawl across the surface of the doors. The ‘forged studied the doors for what seemed an eternity. Slowly and deliberately the ‘forged reached out his hand holding it out just before touching the door. The glowing script seemed to swarm towards the outstretched palm as if desperate for contact. Moving forward barely an inch brought the hand in contact with the door.
Great rumbling shook the crumbling halls as the doors slid apart allowing access to the tomb beyond. Dusty braziers lined the walls and in the center of the room stood an enormous glistening obsidian sarcophagus wrapped in rusted chains. Silent as night, the ‘forged crossed the threshold. The lid was carved in exquisite detail and displayed an evil fanged maw which covered the length of the stone. Each of the ‘forged movements up to this point had been patient and deliberate, making sure no traps or wards awaited him. Now, however, an undeniable urgency filled his stone and steel body, ran rampant along his rootlike sinews. He gripped the edge of the sarcophagus and flipped the lid from the base reducing the age weakened chains to dust. Dust and smoke rose from the interior. Inside the remains of a fierce warrior lay in repose. The flesh had long ago withered until only the dry bones remained, housed in the tattered remnants of age consumed armor. Laying in a double fisted skeletal grip on the chest of the corpse lay an immaculate blade, untouched by time. A long sword of an alien black metal with glittering specks of green throughout, lay upon the ruined corpse. It’s edge un-dulled by the passage of time. The ‘forged slide his hand around the blade and pulled it from the decayed grasp of the corpse. As he did so the remains of the ancient warlord collapse into a putrid billowing cloud.
The ‘forged marveled at the beauty of weapon. The balance was perfect. This was a weapon designed for taking life. He could imagine the feeling of freedom as it cut through the flesh of his foes. He could taste the blood on his lips as the sword drank deeply of their blood, consuming their souls in the process. Each foe cut down fed the blade, sated its unending hunger, his hunger…. Something deep inside of him realized the thoughts were not his own almost too late. He recoiled from the psychic intrusion but could not force himself to drop the blade. “What are you?” The voice echoed in his head. He felt much like an insect, pinned to a board and dissected by some university professor. His thoughts slowed to mush as the presence seemed to flow throughout his mind and body. “You are… different… not a man… but filled with life… with purpose. Tell me do you yet know your purpose?” The ‘forged was held tight, unable to move, but his conscious answered “I was build by House Cannith and sold to Karrnath as a weapon of war”
“A slave then.” The voice interrupted. “Do you not crave your freedom? These weak mortals do not have the power to keep you enslaved. You do that yourself. You allow yourself to be enslaved. I can offer more. A bargain to benefit us both.” A brilliant flash of pain erupted in his mind’s eye and he could see the offer before him, the power being offered. The freedom. What were the humans to him? Slavers. Taskmasters. Years of mistreatment by his Karrnathi masters, treated as nothing but a tool, a thing… property… Without hesitation the ‘forged knew his decision. “I agree.”
The glittering green specks in the blade began to glow sending shifting shadows across the tomb walls. The specks erupted into eerie green flames which quickly spread to his hands and up his arms. The ‘forged screamed in agony as the flames burned deep into his very being. He dropped to his knees as the flames continued to spread. Just as suddenly, the flames dissipated. The ‘forged, still on his knees, looked to his empty hands. The sword was gone but his hands and in fact his entire body seemed to be stained green. Had he been able to see himself, he would have seen the Ghurla, the unique sigil carved upon the forehead of each and every Warforged was gone, burned off by the strange green flames. He slowly got to his feet, hand held out and willed the sword into being. Wispy green smoke appeared and coalesced into the blade gripped tight in his hand. Hunger like he had never felt consumed him… not hunger for food, but hunger for vengeance… for the slaughter of those who would dare to enslave him. A thirsting hatred for the living races who believed him to be lesser than they. No… the Thirsting Hatred was who he once was… what he was now was new. Something more.
The Blade Wraith examined the blade testing the weight and balance. Tilting his head to the side, he gripped the glowing blade in both hands. With a guttural roar, the blade split into two…. Twin sabres formed from what was once a single long sword. With a thought the swords vanished and then reappeared. The Blade Wraith reveled in his newly acquired power as he turned back towards the entrance to the ruins, back towards the weak little creatures that would dare claim ownership over him… and the voice in his head, his new master and partner was pleased…