The arrow pierces your skull. The blade plunges into your stomach. Your chest is filled with pain as your heart gives out. You slam into the hard ground after performing a perfect triple corkscrew backflip off of a thousand foot tall cliff, not realizing that you forgot to prepare feather fall until you’re already in the air. Whatever the cause was, the effect is the same for all. You are dead. You know this, for you can see before you your thread of life, neatly severed by a gleaming pair of shears held by the beautiful, smooth hand of a woman who can only be Atropos, third and last of the Moirai, who cuts the thread of each mortal at the time of their death.
As the thread is cut, everything stops. Before you, a pillar of stones erupts from the earth and from it erupts a young man, clothed in a long cape, a golden helmet with wings, and a pair of winged sandals. He wields a golden wand with two snakes twisted around it, and two wings adorning the top. It is with this wand that Hermes, for that is who he is, touches each of your eyes, and you fall into a deep slumber.
You wake up on the cold, damp stone floor of a massive cave. The place would be completely dark were it not for the faint life coming from yourself and the thousands of others crowding around you. Looking about, you see people as far as you can. Each one appears slightly translucent, as if they were not entirely there, and each one gives off a faint light from their bodies. Looking at yourself, you see that you are the same as all the others, though your glow is significantly brighter.
You can see what appears to be a massive river, far off in the distance, and you have a feeling that if you had better eyesight, you could see Charon and his ferry, moving souls across the Styx. Well, this is it. You’re dead. Nothing to do now but wait for your turn. And so you wait. And you wait. And you wait. There are a lot of dead people, after all, and Charon’s ferry is only so big. Maybe you’ll get there within the decade, with some luck.
Greetings, brave corpses! You’re dead. Luckily, that’s not quite the end. This is the recruitment thread for a greek mythology based campaign, focusing on escaping from the underworld. You will be taking on the roles of great heroes, who have been rewarded with eternal peace in Elysium for your great deeds in life. Unfortunately, Elysium isn’t exactly all that it’s cracked up to be. But that’s all I’ll give you on that for now. You don’t need to know anything about greek mythology for this campaign, but I wouldn’t mind it if you did, as long as you don’t yell at me for deviating. ‘Cause I’m gonna be deviating, oh yes I am.
Character Creation
Homebrew: I’m okay with Homebrew or UA, as long as you allow me to approve it first.
Races: While things like elves and dwarves don’t exist in greek mythology, I’m willing to let you use their stats and flavor them like something else, be that just a human, or something else. Things like centaurs and satyrs are definitely allowed. Basically, anything is allowed, as long as you can flavor it to fit with the setting.
Classes/subclasses: Anything is okey dokey, artificer might be a bit weird, but then again, Hephaestus exists.
Level: You’ll be starting at level one, regardless of your power level in life. Being dead takes a lot out of someone. Literally.
Ability Scores: Rolled, no dropping ones. If they’re below 72, you can take standard array.
Backgrounds: Whatever you want
Equipment: Standard starting equipment. When you were given a proper burial, everything you were buried with came with you when you manifested. You can choose one item to be your “artifact”. Though it served you well in life, it currently appears to have no more powers than an ordinary item of its type. Yet.
Backstory: This can be whatever you want it to be, as long as it follows a few guidelines. First, you must have been someone worthy of getting into Elysium. While your origins could be anything, one thing is certain. In life, you were great. Your name was known to many for your great deeds. You need to include what made you so great. Second, you died. A person’s death can be as important as their life, even more so for a hero. You should include the circumstances and cause of your death. Third, you had a wacky item I guess. You should include what this item(or maybe these items, depending on what it is. You could have had a magic bag of rocks or something I dunno) was capable of. It doesn’t have to follow any sort of preexisting magic item, it can be entirely unique.
Also, please don’t just say “oh hey I’m actually just [hero that already exists like Odysseus or Jason or something]. Be unique.
Character Submission Template
Name:
Race/Class: Please put both your “in game” race, as well as the race you’re using for stats(if you’re using a different one for stats than your actual race). For example, Human(elf).
Race/Class: Human (Fallen Aasimar) Barbarian. Eventually going Path of the Zealot, and possibly pally.
Backstory: Therbirith was a somewhat infamous temple guardian, known for his brutality and his devotion. His origins were unknown, and he rudely ah . . .interrupted anyone who asked, but they were rumored to involve some sort of divine manipulation. His odd, otherworldly glowing eyes certainly seemed to suggest such. He had successfully defended his temple from many enemies, including its own priests on some occasions. The skulls of two Minotaurs he killed in a duel hung over his quarters, silently judging any who dared to pass through his doors. He died defending his temple from a horde of barbarians, with the name of his god on his lips and the corpses of his enemies surrounding him. Is what I would say if he didn’t actually get overly drunk, trip, and drown in a puddle. Not the best way to go.
Legendary item: He had his cloak buried with him. It had an odd habit of playing dramatic music and flaring dramatically at inappropriate times, but it supposedly had many untapped powers besides that;
Artifact: His trusty sword Bloodierthanthou (which he eventually shortened to Blo). He insisted it had magical powers, when in reality it was a rather poorly maintained sword he took off of a bandit.
About his name: This name was selected by me hitting the random name generator once and then realizing it sounded like Cerberus with a lisp.
(Completely forgot) Physical Description: Therbirith is a tall, bulky human with oddly glowing eyes and fairly dark skin. His voice is painfully loud, and he is always overly jovial. His sword is on the smaller side for a great sword, but he seems to be convinced it’s not.
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
I am a bit of a Mythology nerd, and this sounds awesome.
Ability scores: 161017161214
Name: Tyen Veturius
Race/Class: V. Human fighter (planning on BM)
Backstory: Tyen was born to die. It wouldn't be quick, but it was a given. The small village he lived in had little in the way of money, and the corrupt Human sorcerer with the power to heal charged an inordinate fee for his services. Their paltry druidic magic could do nothing for the tumour on his brain. Despite his malady, he lived a stress free life, playing with the birds and small animals in the forest. He didnt have many friends, being one of the only two children in the tribe, and the other being the Archon's (ancient greek for leader's) daughter, but he made do. Sometimes he even talked to the trees, and sometimes they spoke back. However, at the age of 16 his condition got worse. He started to hallucinate, and woke from his sleep in a cold sweat. He had visions of fire, and darkness, and tall monsters that destroyed everything in their path. The Archon's daughter, Rayla, started to visit, and help the healer, and he found himself falling in love. However, not knowing if she returned the sentiment, and not wanting her to fall in love with a dead man, he kept silent. The healer could do nothing, and soon he could not even get out of bed. One year, he seemed to be getting better. He woke up, and found that he could stand, and even walk. The whole town was exuberant, apart from one. The healer told him that this was the end. That his body was now running on fumes, and no longer even had the strength to Hallucinate. He had days, if not hours left to live. He didn't tell his family, but he did say goodbye to Rayla, who started to weep. She had no idea about his feelings, but she had grown fond of his witty jokes when she helped the healer. He went to bed with a clear conscience, ready to face the afterlife. Suddenly he awoke in agony. His head felt like someone was beating on it with a sledgehammer. His head always ached to some degree, but this was worse than he had ever been. He saw fire and heard screams. He thought it was a vision, but this time he felt the heat of the flames and heard the voices of the monsters. He ran outside his burning house to see a massacre. A group of raiders were pillaging the houses, while a mage spewed fire out of his hands. They were cutting down the elderly, and taking the able bodied as slaves. He tried to help fight back, but due to his headache he was quickly overpowered. The mage walked over and sneered at him, while looking at his cronies "Leave him. He's as good as dead" After that, he passed out, and when he awoke, there was nothing left but ashes. He stumbled to his feet, his headache lessened, but still hurting, and frantically looked through the bodies. He was dismayed to find the half charred bodies of his parents, but relieved that Rayla's body was not there. He spied a trail, left by the slavers, leading into the woods. Without stopping to think, he started running. He ran for Hours without stopping for food or water, his fear giving him speed that he had never felt before. His head pounded with every step, but he could not stop, for if he did, he would never start again. Just as his resolve was wavering, he reached their lair- a cave in a cliff wall. His anger turned to determination as he strode in. Two sentries tried to stop him, and when he made no move to stop, they stabbed at him with their spears. He pulled the tip of one out of his stomach, and slew them both. He advanced through the lair, slaying all who tried to stop him with brutal efficiency. He had no idea how, but he finally made it to the cave. He was bleeding from a dozen different wounds which he ignored, and charged in. He found the mage pouring over a spell book, and strode towards him. The mage looked up and smiled "Im impressed you made it this far. Your determination is astounding" Tyen glared at him "Where are they?" The mage laughed. " I am afraid your too late. They were sold hours ago, and transported by portal.You will never see them again" Tyen gasped, as all hope left his body. He fell to his knees, his wounds finally taking their toll, and his head pounding once more. "I am truly sorry. If you were healthy, you might have even killed me." The mage raised his hands, and lightning shot from his outstretched fingers and surrounded him. The pain was unimaginable, worse than Tyen had ever felt. It was at this moment he realized something. His whole life, he had been lost. But now...he had a purpose. When things are bad—really bad—then all that’s left is to decide whether to die on your feet or die on your knees. That’s when you become truly free. That’s when you can risk everything, because there’s nothing left to lose and fear has lost its hold on you. He moved one leg, then the other, until he was standing. He would not die on his knees. The mage looked at him in horror, while increasing the power of his spell "No! yo-you cant! I have a family!" Tyen looked him dead in the eyes "So did I." The he thrust the spear through his heart. As the light left his eyes, Tyen fell to the ground. One thought was passing through his mind: You failed. She is gone. You failed everyone. He closed his eyes....And then he woke up. Dead.
Physical Description: Tyen is medium height, with black hair, and blue eyes. He wears a black tunic, and leather armour. If he isnt planning an escape, or brooding, he is witty, and clever.
Artifact Item: When he woke, he clutched a pair of Scims (long scimitars) in his hands. He doesnt know where they are from, but they are perfectly balanced, and feel like they were made for him....perhaps they were.
Legendary item: He had his cloak buried with him. It had an odd habit of playing dramatic music and flaring dramatically at inappropriate times, but it supposedly had many untapped powers besides that;
Artifact: His trusty sword Bloodierthanthou (which he eventually shortened to Blo). He insisted it had magical powers, when in reality it was a rather poorly maintained sword he took off of a bandit.
Which item is his wacky item of legend(as in the one that's going to have cool emergent magical properties)? Bloodierthanthou or the cloak of inconvenient dramaticism?
Legendary item: He had his cloak buried with him. It had an odd habit of playing dramatic music and flaring dramatically at inappropriate times, but it supposedly had many untapped powers besides that;
Artifact: His trusty sword Bloodierthanthou (which he eventually shortened to Blo). He insisted it had magical powers, when in reality it was a rather poorly maintained sword he took off of a bandit.
Which item is his wacky item of legend(as in the one that's going to have cool emergent magical properties)? Bloodierthanthou or the cloak of inconvenient dramaticism?
(Ah, I misread the original post and thought we were supposed to have an artifact and a legendary wack one. I’ll go with the sword, and keep the cloak just for comedic effect if possible.)
(Oh also, he could have served basically any god—just whatever works best with the story. I was thinking maybe Zeus even though it’s overdone. Because, you know, smiting.)
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
(Oh also, he could have served basically any god—just whatever works best with the story. I was thinking maybe Zeus even though it’s overdone. Because, you know, smiting.)
You should choose the god, not me. It doesn't matter how it will affect the story. Your character wasn't thinking of that when he decided to worship it, after all.
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
Name: Konstantinos "Kostas" Mitropoulos Race: Half-fae (half-elf flavor) Class: Druid (eventual Wildfire subclass*) Background: Noble Ability Scores: STR 13 (+1), DEX 14, CON 15 (+1), INT 14, WIS 16, CHA 10 (+2) Alignment: Neutral Good Backstory: Kostas was born to a human military leader father and a nymph mother. He inherited the best traits of both his parents, but he never really belonged in either world. To combat this, he would enjoy the life of a noble in a forest city with his father by day, and seclude himself in nature with his mother by night. However, on the day of his coming of age (16th birthday), he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a mountain lion. He swore an oath from then on that he would defend the humans from whatever natural threat came their way. He upheld this oath with full integrity. However, the gods took his oath as a challenge, and sent to work to create threats that they thought Kostas could not overcome. But because he could not break his oath, Kostas continued to protect the city, surpassing every challenge the gods threw his way, and the people rewarded him with gifts along the way. Eventually, the gods gave up trying to break Kostas, so at long last, after two years of constantly saving his fellow citizens, he had peace. He returned to his secluded spot in the forest to repose for a year or so, until the forest caught on fire. He tried desperately to save the forest, even calling on the people in his city, but to no avail. The city was forced to evacuate as the wildfire grew closer, and Kostas stayed behind to help everyone escape. He returned to his father's old house once more to collect some of his old possessions, and as he did so, the blaze began to consume the city, and Kostas was trapped. Resigning his fate to the flames, he let them pass over him. It was a long way to die, but not a painful one. It was peaceful, feeling the warmth of the flames licking off of him, reflecting on his old memories, and saying his goodbyes to those he held dear. The worst part of his death was that he died young -- only nineteen years old. Physical Description: Naturally olive-toned skin, though much paler because he's dead; chocolate brown shoulder-length hair; dark, piercing hazel eyes; fairly built and muscular; 6'0", 165 lbs; several scars on his arms, legs, and face from encounters with several deadly creatures; covered in burn marks from the event that killed him Wacky legendary item: Robe of the Archmagi, I know it's sorcerer, warlock, or wizard only, but we could possibly reflavor it to fit Kostas. Character sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/34285621/heb35O
*Kostas was not a Wildfire druid in life; this is owing to the circumstances of his death (assuming it's okay that since we're starting levels over, he'd be able to be a different subclass).
Sorry the backstory's so long, I loved going in deep with this character.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Name: Damagoras of Rhodes
Race/Class: Human Variant(Martial Adept) / Monk Fighter
Ability Scores: 131218121012
Backstory: Coming from a famed family of athletes, Damagoras too started to pursue this in life. He was in constant stress to succeed, to surpass what his family had done before him. But there was always someone who had already done better than him. If he won gold in wrestling at 15, a cousin had done it at 14. If he won gold in boxing twice in a row, a great uncle had gotten gold in both boxing and pankration in a single event. And when he got his tenth gold medal, his older brother already had 11. He was famous, sure, but just as 'another son of that family'. So he trained, taking part in all no name events in distant lands to face and learn from different opponents, and learning from every master that would have him. And finally, he managed a triple win of wrestling, boxing and pankration, and died of exhaustion on the podium.
Physical Description: Damagoras is well muscled, but not in an unnecessarily bulky way. His skin is tanned golden brown, and his brown hair is kept short. His black eyes are sharp, always keeping a look around. Outside of games, he wears a simple white chiton.
Wacky Artifact Item: Himantes, long leather strips wrapped around his hands while fighting, that have over the years absorbed the sweat of his effort and the blood of his opponents.
Race/Class: Satyr/Rogue (Likely going into the loaded dice variant of Wild Card, later multiclassing into Bard)
Ability scores:151413151011
Backstory:
"Come now, the only thing worse than death is boredom and this battle has been nothing but the usual hooting and spear throwing. Let us give the poets something to write about, hm?" - Rhaecus of the Raving Drums to another hero of the Saronic Expedition, before forcing a Hydra to dance with him.
In a word, Rhaecus is a Satyr. The Satyr-est of all Satyrs. The quintessential party animal, a true child of Dionysus. He has danced his way across Macedonia and Mysia in his adventures, never sleeping in the same place for more than one night. The parties he has been to are legendary, and it isn't due to whoever was hosting it. He has traveled with Heroes and demigods, even befriended some monsters and participated in grand battles and never once left his sense of humor behind.
That is, until he and other heroes faced the Hydra of the Saronic Islands. During the battle, while his companions fought, he used his iconic drums to force the monster to dance with him. What a dance it was! They circled each other, his revelry magically infecting the Hydra into a harmless mess as the other heroes inflicted grave wounds on the creature. Indeed, the poets would write great epics about this battle, he thought as he finished the final twirl. It is true, they did, but with a rather dour ending note. As the Hydra lay dying, its hate for this silly creature was so great that it managed to nick his leg with one of its fangs, forcing the Satyr to expire almost instantly.
The misfortunes of Rhaecus did not end there. He found himself in Elysium, of all places. Possibly the worst fate for a Satyr like him... Because after all, the only thing worse than death is boredom. "This drummer isn't ready to leave the revelry yet. There's still much life to live!" And so began his long journey back, with new and perhaps even old friends along the way...
Physical Description: He, like all Satyrs, has the lower body of a goat and ram-like horns attached to the upper body of a man. A scrawny man with thick chest hair matching the reddish brown of his hair and fur. His eyes are a Caribbean green with a constant mischievous twinkle. He has gaunt cheeks, thin lips and a trimmed goatee on his chin. His lopsided grin is simultaneously annoying and endearing, in that friend-you-love-to-have-at-parties-but-regret-having-afterwards sort of way.
Wacky Artifact Item: The Raving Drums. Rumor has it that sometime in his youth, Rhaecus had been a part of the Thiasus, Dionysus's godly retinue of revelry. In the single night he spent as a part of the retinue, he had managed to impress Dionysus somehow and received his favor in return: a small, double sided drum that could be strapped to his waist. Whatever he did that impressed the god of wine also gotten him kicked out of the retinue (he doesn't remember, much of his memories of that time had been struck from his mind). These drums had the power to inebriate or more famously, infect others with compulsive revelry originating from his own spirit (for Rhaecus had a great excess of revelry in him, that he did) by summoning the sound of musical ensemble from the entire Thiasus. It also just makes for a really great party trick even without the forced dancing. He's basically an ancient Greek magic DJ.
This campaign looks phenomenal - I adore Greek Mythology. Hope to play!
Name: Kaneís (Greek for 'Nobody')
Race / Class: Human (Changeling), Warlock - The Fiend
Backstory (I hope it's alright to reference historical information from Greek history^^): Kaneís was originally a Human, born into a middle-class agrarian family on a small town of Ionia. As a family of acolytes, dedicated to worshipping the many gods of the Greek pantheon, Kaneís has been trained in the profound arts of religious sanctity and fastidious preaching. Destined into the comfortable life of a devout follower of the ways of her people, all seemed well - the crops were good, and Hermes brought news of prosperity each coming morning.
That was when the Achaemanid Empire struck, marking the beginning of the Greco-Persian war, with Ionia stuck in the middle of a harrowing situation. After decisively conquering the Ionian people and enforcing a brutal regime, Kaneís was responsible for holding the morale of her people together and summon the wrath of the gods she had followed so devoutly her entire life. She mustered the strength of her fellow countrymen and friends to begin the Ionian revolution. All across the area, battle could be heard - children calling out to their parents; fire razing the crops of the land; shouts of men being gutted. When Kaneís looked into her brazier and up to the Gods for aid, they turned a blind eye - the Ionians had been crushed, and the Empire had began to cruelly push into the mainland of Greece.
After fleeing the town and barely escaping with her life, Kaneís took upon a vow of vengeance. Not only for her people who had been killed, but to the Gods who refused repayment for all the services she had given. Heartbroken and cold, she sought out whatever hideous beast or creature could offer her power in these trying times - and one did. One night of fastidiously praying to the stars of Metis, some aberration materialized in the ground in front of her. A vague semblance of a humanoid deity, the figure had a terrifying aura and presence around it - almost as if the Gods had left for good. This being was a figment of the being known as Metis - a Titan, and one of Zeus's first wives. Powerful and malevolent, she heard Kaneís' dire prayers and offered her a gift - an exchange, of sorts. Metis could lend Kaneís magical prowess and the ability Metis was famed for - the ability to morph oneself's body, at the cost of holding eternal enmity against the pantheons Kaneís had so devoutly followed. Without a moment's notice, Kaneís accepted.
By then, the Achaemanid Empire had taken over the majority of Greece, including razing Athens. Using her newfound dark magic and prowess in infiltration, she sleuthed her way through the Empire's ranks and took revenge on many of its leaders. Killing quickly and shifting into the crowd, she managed to disrupt dozens of battles and slaughter generals that were responsible for the ploy of her own town's defeat.
Growing steadily ambitious as the tide of the war turned, she one day morphed into a guard of the Empire's king. With a dagger imbued with dark energy on a day where he was parading on a chariot in the Empire's capitol, she rushed up to his side and trust it into his abdomen. The watching crowd erupted in chaos, and Kaneís attempted to slip in - but was not quite fast enough. Captured and defeated by the other guards of the king, she was able to free one hand long enough to down a small vial of hemlock she kept to avoid the horrors of what would have otherwise happened.
Although her deeds went unnoticed by the Greek people, the Gods did - and rewarded her, not knowing of her deals with Metis. She was granted a pass to Elysium.
Physical Description: Despite having the powers of a Changeling, Kaneís's preferred body is one of a petite, young, and stunning Human woman, with sun-colored hair. Loving to dress in white for her religious duties, she was often well-groomed. She enjoys displaying various colors with her eyes - one is often sky blue, while the other is a stunning shade of emerald green.
Artifact: A small pendant her Mother had given her before she was killed in the Ionian revolution, it was emblazened with a clear gemstone and was adorned on a necklace Kaneís refuses to part with. It shifts colors depending on her mood - it may be rose-colored in a moment of anger, and honey-colored in a moment of happiness the very next moment.
(Oh, this looks amazing, I am definitely going to work something up! Placeholder while I work on it)
Ability scores: 17915141112
Name: Arteusa
Race/Class: Centaur Cleric of Nike (War Domain)
Ability Scores: See above
Backstory:
In life, Arteusa was born of the mare Olona, said to have been the loyal steed of Athena until the end of her days, when Athena rewarded her service with a new life, gifting her both intelligence and humanity, and Astios, one of Ares’ swiftest warrior-stallions. As Olona’s firstborn filly, Arteusa was given over to the gods’ service, but her war-bred lineage was taken into account – she was sent to the Temple of Nike, where she forged a connection with the goddess of victory.
Arteusa thrived at the Temple; though she learned the duties of a priestess first and foremost, there was no denying her potential as a warrior. She trained with the other warriors of Nike, learning tactics and strategy, and how to fight with all manner of martial weapons. However, Arteusa found herself drawn inexplicably to the common double-edged sword used mostly by the hoplites rather than the bows, spears, and lances favored by her peers. She trained constantly, determined to uphold her family’s honor in the eyes of the gods.
Eventually drawn into the wars with Persia, sworn to defend Athens and her people, Arteusa made a name for herself. She fought with all the fury of the winged goddess to whom she had been sworn; war became her purpose, her domain, and the Persians began to fear the sound of thundering hooves, the bloody grin and swinging sword that too-often followed it. Arteusa did not stay back from battle as most of the other High Priests; rather, she fought at the front, leading her warriors to glory, promising them a place in Elysium should they fall.
Arteusa the Bloody, Nike’s Fury, they called her. She held no mercy for her enemies, but great care for her own warriors, and every one of them knew she would give her life for theirs.
And so she did.
When Ephialtes betrayed the Allied forces at Thermopylae, Arteusa stood with the 2,000 warriors guarding the rear of the army’s retreat alongside Leonidas of Sparta. She charged forth with her radiant sword on the third and final day, galloping with all the Nike’s fury, and slaughtered as many Persians as would face her. She certainly earned her moniker that day, covered from head to withers in blood.
The first arrow hit her in the left flank; she yelled as she snapped it. The second pierced her shoulder, the third her middle. She bared her bloody teeth and kept fighting. The final arrow pierced her chest, stilling her heart.
She fell, but was granted a pass to Elysium for her dedication to Nike and her glory in battle.
Physical Description: Olive skin; in life, she had two brown eyes, but in death her right eye is white. Dark hair to match the silky black of her withers. Her horse half is built like a warhorse, strong, durable; capable of moving quickly if need be, and about 15 hands. Her human half is built to match, fairly buff from a life of training for war. She wears cavalry armor – a muscle cuirass over a sleeveless tunic, and leather arm braces. Her shield is engraved with the figure of the winged Nike, and her holy symbol is a small bronze wreath.
Wacky Artifact Item: Her sword was blessed by Nike – it’s radiance shown brightly when she wielded it, often blinding her foes.
Wacky legendary item: Robe of the Archmagi, I know it's sorcerer, warlock, or wizard only, but we could possibly reflavor it to fit Kostas.
As I said earlier, your wacky legendary artifact thing doesn't need to be an actual magic item. It's going to be an evolving magic item that will develop new, unique properties as you level up and regain your power. It's alright if you want to borrow from existing magic items, it would be a bit simpler, after all, but it can be flavored as anything.
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"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
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Greetings, brave corpses! You’re dead. Luckily, that’s not quite the end. This is the recruitment thread for a greek mythology based campaign, focusing on escaping from the underworld. You will be taking on the roles of great heroes, who have been rewarded with eternal peace in Elysium for your great deeds in life. Unfortunately, Elysium isn’t exactly all that it’s cracked up to be. But that’s all I’ll give you on that for now. You don’t need to know anything about greek mythology for this campaign, but I wouldn’t mind it if you did, as long as you don’t yell at me for deviating. ‘Cause I’m gonna be deviating, oh yes I am.
Character Creation
Homebrew: I’m okay with Homebrew or UA, as long as you allow me to approve it first.
Races: While things like elves and dwarves don’t exist in greek mythology, I’m willing to let you use their stats and flavor them like something else, be that just a human, or something else. Things like centaurs and satyrs are definitely allowed. Basically, anything is allowed, as long as you can flavor it to fit with the setting.
Classes/subclasses: Anything is okey dokey, artificer might be a bit weird, but then again, Hephaestus exists.
Level: You’ll be starting at level one, regardless of your power level in life. Being dead takes a lot out of someone. Literally.
Ability Scores: Rolled, no dropping ones. If they’re below 72, you can take standard array.
Backgrounds: Whatever you want
Equipment: Standard starting equipment. When you were given a proper burial, everything you were buried with came with you when you manifested. You can choose one item to be your “artifact”. Though it served you well in life, it currently appears to have no more powers than an ordinary item of its type. Yet.
Backstory: This can be whatever you want it to be, as long as it follows a few guidelines. First, you must have been someone worthy of getting into Elysium. While your origins could be anything, one thing is certain. In life, you were great. Your name was known to many for your great deeds. You need to include what made you so great. Second, you died. A person’s death can be as important as their life, even more so for a hero. You should include the circumstances and cause of your death. Third, you had a wacky item I guess. You should include what this item(or maybe these items, depending on what it is. You could have had a magic bag of rocks or something I dunno) was capable of. It doesn’t have to follow any sort of preexisting magic item, it can be entirely unique.
Also, please don’t just say “oh hey I’m actually just [hero that already exists like Odysseus or Jason or something]. Be unique.
Character Submission Template
Name:
Race/Class: Please put both your “in game” race, as well as the race you’re using for stats(if you’re using a different one for stats than your actual race). For example, Human(elf).
Ability Scores:
Backstory:
Physical Description:
Wacky Artifact Item:
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Let’s see what I have to work with first . . .)
Ability scores: Ability scores: 13 14 14 7 16 14
Name: Therbirith
Race/Class: Human (Fallen Aasimar) Barbarian. Eventually going Path of the Zealot, and possibly pally.
Backstory: Therbirith was a somewhat infamous temple guardian, known for his brutality and his devotion. His origins were unknown, and he rudely ah . . .interrupted anyone who asked, but they were rumored to involve some sort of divine manipulation. His odd, otherworldly glowing eyes certainly seemed to suggest such. He had successfully defended his temple from many enemies, including its own priests on some occasions. The skulls of two Minotaurs he killed in a duel hung over his quarters, silently judging any who dared to pass through his doors. He died defending his temple from a horde of barbarians, with the name of his god on his lips and the corpses of his enemies surrounding him. Is what I would say if he didn’t actually get overly drunk, trip, and drown in a puddle. Not the best way to go.
Legendary item: He had his cloak buried with him. It had an odd habit of playing dramatic music and flaring dramatically at inappropriate times, but it supposedly had many untapped powers besides that;
Artifact: His trusty sword Bloodierthanthou (which he eventually shortened to Blo). He insisted it had magical powers, when in reality it was a rather poorly maintained sword he took off of a bandit.
About his name: This name was selected by me hitting the random name generator once and then realizing it sounded like Cerberus with a lisp.
Character sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/34267771/ZuWUns
(Completely forgot) Physical Description: Therbirith is a tall, bulky human with oddly glowing eyes and fairly dark skin. His voice is painfully loud, and he is always overly jovial. His sword is on the smaller side for a great sword, but he seems to be convinced it’s not.
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Class Guides: Barbarian, Rogue, Sorcerer, Bard General Guides: PvP
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
I am a bit of a Mythology nerd, and this sounds awesome.
Ability scores: 16 10 17 16 12 14
Name: Tyen Veturius
Race/Class: V. Human fighter (planning on BM)
Backstory: Tyen was born to die. It wouldn't be quick, but it was a given. The small village he lived in had little in the way of money, and the corrupt Human sorcerer with the power to heal charged an inordinate fee for his services. Their paltry druidic magic could do nothing for the tumour on his brain. Despite his malady, he lived a stress free life, playing with the birds and small animals in the forest. He didnt have many friends, being one of the only two children in the tribe, and the other being the Archon's (ancient greek for leader's) daughter, but he made do. Sometimes he even talked to the trees, and sometimes they spoke back. However, at the age of 16 his condition got worse. He started to hallucinate, and woke from his sleep in a cold sweat. He had visions of fire, and darkness, and tall monsters that destroyed everything in their path. The Archon's daughter, Rayla, started to visit, and help the healer, and he found himself falling in love. However, not knowing if she returned the sentiment, and not wanting her to fall in love with a dead man, he kept silent. The healer could do nothing, and soon he could not even get out of bed. One year, he seemed to be getting better. He woke up, and found that he could stand, and even walk. The whole town was exuberant, apart from one. The healer told him that this was the end. That his body was now running on fumes, and no longer even had the strength to Hallucinate. He had days, if not hours left to live. He didn't tell his family, but he did say goodbye to Rayla, who started to weep. She had no idea about his feelings, but she had grown fond of his witty jokes when she helped the healer. He went to bed with a clear conscience, ready to face the afterlife. Suddenly he awoke in agony. His head felt like someone was beating on it with a sledgehammer. His head always ached to some degree, but this was worse than he had ever been. He saw fire and heard screams. He thought it was a vision, but this time he felt the heat of the flames and heard the voices of the monsters. He ran outside his burning house to see a massacre. A group of raiders were pillaging the houses, while a mage spewed fire out of his hands. They were cutting down the elderly, and taking the able bodied as slaves. He tried to help fight back, but due to his headache he was quickly overpowered. The mage walked over and sneered at him, while looking at his cronies "Leave him. He's as good as dead" After that, he passed out, and when he awoke, there was nothing left but ashes. He stumbled to his feet, his headache lessened, but still hurting, and frantically looked through the bodies. He was dismayed to find the half charred bodies of his parents, but relieved that Rayla's body was not there. He spied a trail, left by the slavers, leading into the woods. Without stopping to think, he started running. He ran for Hours without stopping for food or water, his fear giving him speed that he had never felt before. His head pounded with every step, but he could not stop, for if he did, he would never start again. Just as his resolve was wavering, he reached their lair- a cave in a cliff wall. His anger turned to determination as he strode in. Two sentries tried to stop him, and when he made no move to stop, they stabbed at him with their spears. He pulled the tip of one out of his stomach, and slew them both. He advanced through the lair, slaying all who tried to stop him with brutal efficiency. He had no idea how, but he finally made it to the cave. He was bleeding from a dozen different wounds which he ignored, and charged in. He found the mage pouring over a spell book, and strode towards him. The mage looked up and smiled "Im impressed you made it this far. Your determination is astounding" Tyen glared at him "Where are they?" The mage laughed. " I am afraid your too late. They were sold hours ago, and transported by portal.You will never see them again" Tyen gasped, as all hope left his body. He fell to his knees, his wounds finally taking their toll, and his head pounding once more. "I am truly sorry. If you were healthy, you might have even killed me." The mage raised his hands, and lightning shot from his outstretched fingers and surrounded him. The pain was unimaginable, worse than Tyen had ever felt. It was at this moment he realized something. His whole life, he had been lost. But now...he had a purpose. When things are bad—really bad—then all that’s left is to decide whether to die on your feet or die on your knees. That’s when you become truly free. That’s when you can risk everything, because there’s nothing left to lose and fear has lost its hold on you. He moved one leg, then the other, until he was standing. He would not die on his knees. The mage looked at him in horror, while increasing the power of his spell "No! yo-you cant! I have a family!" Tyen looked him dead in the eyes "So did I." The he thrust the spear through his heart. As the light left his eyes, Tyen fell to the ground. One thought was passing through his mind: You failed. She is gone. You failed everyone. He closed his eyes....And then he woke up. Dead.
Physical Description: Tyen is medium height, with black hair, and blue eyes. He wears a black tunic, and leather armour. If he isnt planning an escape, or brooding, he is witty, and clever.
Artifact Item: When he woke, he clutched a pair of Scims (long scimitars) in his hands. He doesnt know where they are from, but they are perfectly balanced, and feel like they were made for him....perhaps they were.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/GoodBovine/characters/34274132
sorry for the length, I had a blast writing this.
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Praying to Tyche
Ability scores: 9 16 10 8 10 11
You seem to have her favor!
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Alright! This looks amazing. I guess I'll just do like the others and roll ability scores as a placeholder for a character.
Ability scores: 14 9 16 8 13 12
Also, quick question: Are you opening up content sharing?
Retracted
Iris - Tiefling Cleric | Cassandra - Elf Warlock | Solace - Tiefling Monk | Tempest - Hexblood Monk | Lex - Fire Genasi Barbarian
Lilyn - Triton Ranger | Candor - Changeling Bard | Echo - Changeling Warlock/Bard | Rowan - Fairy Wizard
Which item is his wacky item of legend(as in the one that's going to have cool emergent magical properties)? Bloodierthanthou or the cloak of inconvenient dramaticism?
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
No content sharing, I'm a poor pauper lad.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Ah, I misread the original post and thought we were supposed to have an artifact and a legendary wack one. I’ll go with the sword, and keep the cloak just for comedic effect if possible.)
(Oh also, he could have served basically any god—just whatever works best with the story. I was thinking maybe Zeus even though it’s overdone. Because, you know, smiting.)
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Class Guides: Barbarian, Rogue, Sorcerer, Bard General Guides: PvP
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
You should choose the god, not me. It doesn't matter how it will affect the story. Your character wasn't thinking of that when he decided to worship it, after all.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Fair enough. I’ll go with
TempusZeus.Check out my Extended signature here
Class Guides: Barbarian, Rogue, Sorcerer, Bard General Guides: PvP
Currently playing in: Quest for the Shunned City, Coliseum of Conquest, DragonDenn's Dragonlords, Shipwrecked on Fugue, Tomb of Annihilation, Razor's Lost Mine of Phandelver, The Lost Kenku & One Grung Above
Currently DMing: Princes of the Apocalypse, Out of the Abyss, Coliseum of Conquest—The Arena (Sometimes)
Name: Konstantinos "Kostas" Mitropoulos
Race: Half-fae (half-elf flavor)
Class: Druid (eventual Wildfire subclass*)
Background: Noble
Ability Scores: STR 13 (+1), DEX 14, CON 15 (+1), INT 14, WIS 16, CHA 10 (+2)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Backstory: Kostas was born to a human military leader father and a nymph mother. He inherited the best traits of both his parents, but he never really belonged in either world. To combat this, he would enjoy the life of a noble in a forest city with his father by day, and seclude himself in nature with his mother by night. However, on the day of his coming of age (16th birthday), he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a mountain lion. He swore an oath from then on that he would defend the humans from whatever natural threat came their way. He upheld this oath with full integrity. However, the gods took his oath as a challenge, and sent to work to create threats that they thought Kostas could not overcome. But because he could not break his oath, Kostas continued to protect the city, surpassing every challenge the gods threw his way, and the people rewarded him with gifts along the way. Eventually, the gods gave up trying to break Kostas, so at long last, after two years of constantly saving his fellow citizens, he had peace. He returned to his secluded spot in the forest to repose for a year or so, until the forest caught on fire. He tried desperately to save the forest, even calling on the people in his city, but to no avail. The city was forced to evacuate as the wildfire grew closer, and Kostas stayed behind to help everyone escape. He returned to his father's old house once more to collect some of his old possessions, and as he did so, the blaze began to consume the city, and Kostas was trapped. Resigning his fate to the flames, he let them pass over him. It was a long way to die, but not a painful one. It was peaceful, feeling the warmth of the flames licking off of him, reflecting on his old memories, and saying his goodbyes to those he held dear. The worst part of his death was that he died young -- only nineteen years old.
Physical Description: Naturally olive-toned skin, though much paler because he's dead; chocolate brown shoulder-length hair; dark, piercing hazel eyes; fairly built and muscular; 6'0", 165 lbs; several scars on his arms, legs, and face from encounters with several deadly creatures; covered in burn marks from the event that killed him
Wacky legendary item: Robe of the Archmagi, I know it's sorcerer, warlock, or wizard only, but we could possibly reflavor it to fit Kostas.
Character sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/34285621/heb35O
*Kostas was not a Wildfire druid in life; this is owing to the circumstances of his death (assuming it's okay that since we're starting levels over, he'd be able to be a different subclass).
Sorry the backstory's so long, I loved going in deep with this character.
Name: Damagoras of Rhodes
Race/Class: Human Variant(Martial Adept) /
MonkFighterAbility Scores: 13 12 18 12 10 12
Backstory: Coming from a famed family of athletes, Damagoras too started to pursue this in life. He was in constant stress to succeed, to surpass what his family had done before him. But there was always someone who had already done better than him. If he won gold in wrestling at 15, a cousin had done it at 14. If he won gold in boxing twice in a row, a great uncle had gotten gold in both boxing and pankration in a single event. And when he got his tenth gold medal, his older brother already had 11. He was famous, sure, but just as 'another son of that family'. So he trained, taking part in all no name events in distant lands to face and learn from different opponents, and learning from every master that would have him. And finally, he managed a triple win of wrestling, boxing and pankration, and died of exhaustion on the podium.
Physical Description: Damagoras is well muscled, but not in an unnecessarily bulky way. His skin is tanned golden brown, and his brown hair is kept short. His black eyes are sharp, always keeping a look around. Outside of games, he wears a simple white chiton.
Wacky Artifact Item: Himantes, long leather strips wrapped around his hands while fighting, that have over the years absorbed the sweat of his effort and the blood of his opponents.
https://ddb.ac/characters/34308630/MMhWZX
Name: Rhaecus, of the Raving Drums
Race/Class: Satyr/Rogue (Likely going into the loaded dice variant of Wild Card, later multiclassing into Bard)
Ability scores: 15 14 13 15 10 11
Backstory:
"Come now, the only thing worse than death is boredom and this battle has been nothing but the usual hooting and spear throwing. Let us give the poets something to write about, hm?" - Rhaecus of the Raving Drums to another hero of the Saronic Expedition, before forcing a Hydra to dance with him.
In a word, Rhaecus is a Satyr. The Satyr-est of all Satyrs. The quintessential party animal, a true child of Dionysus. He has danced his way across Macedonia and Mysia in his adventures, never sleeping in the same place for more than one night. The parties he has been to are legendary, and it isn't due to whoever was hosting it. He has traveled with Heroes and demigods, even befriended some monsters and participated in grand battles and never once left his sense of humor behind.
That is, until he and other heroes faced the Hydra of the Saronic Islands. During the battle, while his companions fought, he used his iconic drums to force the monster to dance with him. What a dance it was! They circled each other, his revelry magically infecting the Hydra into a harmless mess as the other heroes inflicted grave wounds on the creature. Indeed, the poets would write great epics about this battle, he thought as he finished the final twirl. It is true, they did, but with a rather dour ending note. As the Hydra lay dying, its hate for this silly creature was so great that it managed to nick his leg with one of its fangs, forcing the Satyr to expire almost instantly.
The misfortunes of Rhaecus did not end there. He found himself in Elysium, of all places. Possibly the worst fate for a Satyr like him... Because after all, the only thing worse than death is boredom. "This drummer isn't ready to leave the revelry yet. There's still much life to live!" And so began his long journey back, with new and perhaps even old friends along the way...
Physical Description: He, like all Satyrs, has the lower body of a goat and ram-like horns attached to the upper body of a man. A scrawny man with thick chest hair matching the reddish brown of his hair and fur. His eyes are a Caribbean green with a constant mischievous twinkle. He has gaunt cheeks, thin lips and a trimmed goatee on his chin. His lopsided grin is simultaneously annoying and endearing, in that friend-you-love-to-have-at-parties-but-regret-having-afterwards sort of way.
Wacky Artifact Item: The Raving Drums. Rumor has it that sometime in his youth, Rhaecus had been a part of the Thiasus, Dionysus's godly retinue of revelry. In the single night he spent as a part of the retinue, he had managed to impress Dionysus somehow and received his favor in return: a small, double sided drum that could be strapped to his waist. Whatever he did that impressed the god of wine also gotten him kicked out of the retinue (he doesn't remember, much of his memories of that time had been struck from his mind). These drums had the power to inebriate or more famously, infect others with compulsive revelry originating from his own spirit (for Rhaecus had a great excess of revelry in him, that he did) by summoning the sound of musical ensemble from the entire Thiasus. It also just makes for a really great party trick even without the forced dancing. He's basically an ancient Greek magic DJ.
Lost In Time: An Interdimensional Escapade: Baragon Starfeller - Level 2 Leonin Paladin
Out of Elysium: Rhaecus, of the Raving Drums - Level 1 Satyr Rogue
Dungeonverse: Weizol L'varr - Level 1 Eladrin Wizard
This campaign looks phenomenal - I adore Greek Mythology. Hope to play!
Name: Kaneís (Greek for 'Nobody')
Race / Class: Human (Changeling), Warlock - The Fiend
Backstory (I hope it's alright to reference historical information from Greek history^^): Kaneís was originally a Human, born into a middle-class agrarian family on a small town of Ionia. As a family of acolytes, dedicated to worshipping the many gods of the Greek pantheon, Kaneís has been trained in the profound arts of religious sanctity and fastidious preaching. Destined into the comfortable life of a devout follower of the ways of her people, all seemed well - the crops were good, and Hermes brought news of prosperity each coming morning.
That was when the Achaemanid Empire struck, marking the beginning of the Greco-Persian war, with Ionia stuck in the middle of a harrowing situation. After decisively conquering the Ionian people and enforcing a brutal regime, Kaneís was responsible for holding the morale of her people together and summon the wrath of the gods she had followed so devoutly her entire life. She mustered the strength of her fellow countrymen and friends to begin the Ionian revolution. All across the area, battle could be heard - children calling out to their parents; fire razing the crops of the land; shouts of men being gutted. When Kaneís looked into her brazier and up to the Gods for aid, they turned a blind eye - the Ionians had been crushed, and the Empire had began to cruelly push into the mainland of Greece.
After fleeing the town and barely escaping with her life, Kaneís took upon a vow of vengeance. Not only for her people who had been killed, but to the Gods who refused repayment for all the services she had given. Heartbroken and cold, she sought out whatever hideous beast or creature could offer her power in these trying times - and one did. One night of fastidiously praying to the stars of Metis, some aberration materialized in the ground in front of her. A vague semblance of a humanoid deity, the figure had a terrifying aura and presence around it - almost as if the Gods had left for good. This being was a figment of the being known as Metis - a Titan, and one of Zeus's first wives. Powerful and malevolent, she heard Kaneís' dire prayers and offered her a gift - an exchange, of sorts. Metis could lend Kaneís magical prowess and the ability Metis was famed for - the ability to morph oneself's body, at the cost of holding eternal enmity against the pantheons Kaneís had so devoutly followed. Without a moment's notice, Kaneís accepted.
By then, the Achaemanid Empire had taken over the majority of Greece, including razing Athens. Using her newfound dark magic and prowess in infiltration, she sleuthed her way through the Empire's ranks and took revenge on many of its leaders. Killing quickly and shifting into the crowd, she managed to disrupt dozens of battles and slaughter generals that were responsible for the ploy of her own town's defeat.
Growing steadily ambitious as the tide of the war turned, she one day morphed into a guard of the Empire's king. With a dagger imbued with dark energy on a day where he was parading on a chariot in the Empire's capitol, she rushed up to his side and trust it into his abdomen. The watching crowd erupted in chaos, and Kaneís attempted to slip in - but was not quite fast enough. Captured and defeated by the other guards of the king, she was able to free one hand long enough to down a small vial of hemlock she kept to avoid the horrors of what would have otherwise happened.
Although her deeds went unnoticed by the Greek people, the Gods did - and rewarded her, not knowing of her deals with Metis. She was granted a pass to Elysium.
Physical Description: Despite having the powers of a Changeling, Kaneís's preferred body is one of a petite, young, and stunning Human woman, with sun-colored hair. Loving to dress in white for her religious duties, she was often well-groomed. She enjoys displaying various colors with her eyes - one is often sky blue, while the other is a stunning shade of emerald green.
Artifact: A small pendant her Mother had given her before she was killed in the Ionian revolution, it was emblazened with a clear gemstone and was adorned on a necklace Kaneís refuses to part with. It shifts colors depending on her mood - it may be rose-colored in a moment of anger, and honey-colored in a moment of happiness the very next moment.
(Oh, this looks amazing, I am definitely going to work something up! Placeholder while I work on it)
Ability scores: 17 9 15 14 11 12
Name: Arteusa
Race/Class: Centaur Cleric of Nike (War Domain)
Ability Scores: See above
Backstory:
In life, Arteusa was born of the mare Olona, said to have been the loyal steed of Athena until the end of her days, when Athena rewarded her service with a new life, gifting her both intelligence and humanity, and Astios, one of Ares’ swiftest warrior-stallions. As Olona’s firstborn filly, Arteusa was given over to the gods’ service, but her war-bred lineage was taken into account – she was sent to the Temple of Nike, where she forged a connection with the goddess of victory.
Arteusa thrived at the Temple; though she learned the duties of a priestess first and foremost, there was no denying her potential as a warrior. She trained with the other warriors of Nike, learning tactics and strategy, and how to fight with all manner of martial weapons. However, Arteusa found herself drawn inexplicably to the common double-edged sword used mostly by the hoplites rather than the bows, spears, and lances favored by her peers. She trained constantly, determined to uphold her family’s honor in the eyes of the gods.
Eventually drawn into the wars with Persia, sworn to defend Athens and her people, Arteusa made a name for herself. She fought with all the fury of the winged goddess to whom she had been sworn; war became her purpose, her domain, and the Persians began to fear the sound of thundering hooves, the bloody grin and swinging sword that too-often followed it. Arteusa did not stay back from battle as most of the other High Priests; rather, she fought at the front, leading her warriors to glory, promising them a place in Elysium should they fall.
Arteusa the Bloody, Nike’s Fury, they called her. She held no mercy for her enemies, but great care for her own warriors, and every one of them knew she would give her life for theirs.
And so she did.
When Ephialtes betrayed the Allied forces at Thermopylae, Arteusa stood with the 2,000 warriors guarding the rear of the army’s retreat alongside Leonidas of Sparta. She charged forth with her radiant sword on the third and final day, galloping with all the Nike’s fury, and slaughtered as many Persians as would face her. She certainly earned her moniker that day, covered from head to withers in blood.
The first arrow hit her in the left flank; she yelled as she snapped it. The second pierced her shoulder, the third her middle. She bared her bloody teeth and kept fighting. The final arrow pierced her chest, stilling her heart.
She fell, but was granted a pass to Elysium for her dedication to Nike and her glory in battle.
Physical Description: Olive skin; in life, she had two brown eyes, but in death her right eye is white. Dark hair to match the silky black of her withers. Her horse half is built like a warhorse, strong, durable; capable of moving quickly if need be, and about 15 hands. Her human half is built to match, fairly buff from a life of training for war. She wears cavalry armor – a muscle cuirass over a sleeveless tunic, and leather arm braces. Her shield is engraved with the figure of the winged Nike, and her holy symbol is a small bronze wreath.
Wacky Artifact Item: Her sword was blessed by Nike – it’s radiance shown brightly when she wielded it, often blinding her foes.
No Longer Active
Ability scores: 12 16 11 8 11 9
I love the idea of a changeling's abilities coming from Metis! Incredibly creative, I love it!
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
As I said earlier, your wacky legendary artifact thing doesn't need to be an actual magic item. It's going to be an evolving magic item that will develop new, unique properties as you level up and regain your power. It's alright if you want to borrow from existing magic items, it would be a bit simpler, after all, but it can be flavored as anything.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."