Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Hello AO3,

This is my first time posting anything of any kind.

If you read the summary then you should know what this is. I am a big fan of D&D but, sadly, don't get to play much. That hasn't stopped me from coming up with idea after idea for different characters I'd like to play if given the chance. Many of these characters started out as little more than a cool name, a gimmick, or a new race or subclass I wanted to explore. However, playing with characters that were simply a race, a class, and a goofy voice was something that didn't really interest me about the few times I've played D&D. What I love most about the game is how, even if two groups are playing the same module, the different characters they bring to the campaign should make for different experiences.

To that end, I made a challenge to myself to look at all the characters I'd come up with try to come up with backstories for each of them, giving them all a place to start, a reason for them to be the class/subclass that they are (particularly for those campaigns that start at level 3), and some goal that they're working toward that got them involved in the campaign to begin with. Originally, this was just so that if I ever got involved in a campaign, I could just pick the character I wanted to play, then copy/paste the backstory and send it to my DM so that they know my character's deal, but now that it's finished, I . . . kinda . . . want to share it. Let other people see it and see what they think, see if they might be inspired to use some of these characters in their own games, either using them wholesale, or using their general idea as a jumping off point for their own character ideas.

So . . . yeah, I'll start doing this, see how it goes. If people like my stuff, I'll keep posting.

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Aeacus Pirithous (he/him): Minotaur/Fighter (Samurai)

Background: Soldier (Officer)

Personality Trait: I'm haunted by memories of war. I can’t get the images of violence out of my head.

Personality Trait: I’m always polite and respectful.  

Ideal: Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others.

Bond: I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Flaw: The monstrous enemy we faced in battle still leaves me quivering with fear.

In another life, Aeacus Pirithous could have gone down as one of the greatest generals of an era. A capable warrior who had made a name for himself participating in some very decisive battles, Aeacus was a favorite among the Brass who saw great things in the young minotaur’s future. Quickly rising through the ranks, Aeacus would eventually have platoons, and soon an entire company, of his own under his command and orders from higher ups who were eager to see their golden boy deliver more triumphs and more territory.

Unfortunately, Aeacus’ winning streak didn’t last long as, during a clash with an enemy force, enemy mages (possibly sensing an impending defeat) pooled their magic and conjured a nightmarish behemoth from the Far Realm. Frightened, inexperienced, and perhaps believing too much in his own hype, Aeacus ordered his men to charge the aberration. The results were disastrous.

Aeacus awoke in a military hospital several days later, missing a horn and learning that most of the men in his company had been lost in the ill-conceived assault. His superiors were not happy to see all that they had invested in the young captain had come to naught. Aeacus was stripped of his rank, discharged from duty, and left with little more than his ruined name.

In attempting to move on with his life, Aeacus would find stumbling blocks. His military service left him with few other marketable skills. On top of that, of the few places that could use someone with his skills, no reputable business would employ such a disgraced veteran. Perhaps this was penance for his arrogance? Regardless, Aeacus took this defeat on the chin and resolved to find a way to redeem himself, adhering himself to any future work with the strictest honor and humility.

So . . . yeah. I think this character started out as me just wanting to play a minotaur, and wanting to pair it with a class that would get decent milage out of its various horn features. Fighter fit the bill. As for why I wanted to shoot for Samurai? Well . . . that was mainly due to the fact that I'd already come up with a few other fighters and I didn't want to repeat myself if I could avoid it. The fun part is, it actually looped back around to being sort of fitting, thematically. Instead of a "Samurai" in the stricter definition, he ended up more like a ronin, a warrior without a master.

Though, if you wanted to give him a master, it could be a good Session 0 idea to pair him up with one of the other players as their bodyguard, someone too poor or too desperate for protection to seek out more reputable options (i.e. a nobleman in hiding, or someone who's otherwise crossed powerful people and needs protection STAT!).

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Arraness (he/him): Githyanki/Fighter (Psi Knight) 

Background: Sailor (Pirate) 

Personality Trait: I work hard so that I can play hard when the work is done.

Personality Tr ait: My friends know they can rely on me, no matter what.

Ideal: The sea is freedom - the freedom to go anywhere and do anything.

Bond: I’m loyal to my captain first, everything else second.

Flaw: Once I start drinking, it’s hard for me to stop.

Once a proud crew member of an Astral Seafaring Githyanki ship, the Githyanki who would come to be known as “Arraness” would spend his days riding his red dragon mount, hunting illithids, and pillaging any poor fool he and his fellow crew happened upon. All of that changed, however, when their ship came under attack and the young dragon rider, and his mount, found themselves knocked asunder and sent hurtling through a nearby portal to the Prime Material Plane. The landing was not a gentle one. Thrown from his mount and even losing his sword in the process, the young Gith landed hard and fell unconscious. 

When he awoke, bleary eyed and suffering a terrible migraine, the pirate had no recollection of who he was, where he was, or how he got there. He saw only a red dragon harrying a nearby village. With so many in danger and nothing but a shield to hand, the Gith mustered his courage and charged the dragon, commanding it to stop. Amazingly, his mad gambit paid off as, upon seeing him, the dragon immediately desisted its assault and flew off towards the horizon. With the danger passed, the Githyanki was met with the celebratory cheers of the denizens of the Elvish town, praising him as their hero. Unfortunately, the Gith did not speak Elvish, and so thought that the word “Arraness” that they cheered was his own name, and, so, took it for his own. Now Arraness wanders the land, helping who he can while attempting to piece together his missing past and explore the psychokinetic abilities he has recently rediscovered in himself.

While not one of the first characters I ever came up with, I think this was one of the first whose story I wrote out for this series (hopefully it doesn’t show). Also, the first in a series of characters who couldn’t remember/didn’t have a name, so just took those words what people called them and made that their name instead. Apparently, I just really like that trope... Anyway! Pairing Psi Knight with the psionic Gith was a no brainer, and I decided to go with Sailor even despite the amnesia for a he-doesn't-know-how-he-knows-he-just-does muscle memory sort of thing (setting sail on the high seas might jog some memories about setting sail through the stars). Don’t remember why I picked Pirate specifically, though. Maybe Githyanki have a reputation in the world for being ruthless marauders, so his reputation precedes him, even if he doesn’t know what that reputation is? As an alternative Folk Hero would probably work in the other direction, especially if word got around about him and that dragon (“I heard he beat it to death with nothing but a shield”, “Well, I heard he wrestled it to the ground with his bare hands”, etc.). It is the classic blunder to write your character to be some badass dragon slayer only to remember that they’re supposed to be level 1-3 with maybe a few dozen hit points, isn’t it? At least this way, you’ve got the reputation of having bested a dragon, even if not all is as it seems. 

One thing I do like about this is how much it puts into the world for the players to find. From the young-adult red dragon (the former mount who likely knows more about Arraness than he does at this point), roving bands of Githyanki (possibly looking for their lost member), not to mention, the “enemy” he and his crew ran afoul of might be looking to finish the job (I had initially been thinking Giff, but ever since Spelljammer came out, I think you’ve got a lot more options), any of whom could help our dear amnesiac to start filling in the blanks. Heck, if your DM is feeling especially generous, there might even be a Githyanki Silver Sword somewhere out there waiting to be reclaimed.

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Azotic Onism (he/him): Dragonborn (Topaz)/Fighter (Echo Knight) 

Background: Haunted One 

Harrowing Event: An apparition that has haunted your family for generations now haunts you. You don’t know what it wants, and it won’t leave you alone. 

Personality Trait: I refuse to become a victim, and I will not allow others to be victimized.

Personality Tra it: I like to read and memorize poetry. It keeps me calm and brings me fleeting moments of happiness.

Ideal: I’ll stop the spirits that haunt me or die trying. 

Bond: I have a child to protect. I must make the world a safer place for them. 

Flaw: I talk to spirits that no one else can see. 

The Onisms were an old family. Not a noble or powerful family, mind you, but an old one. Able to trace their roots back over a dozen generations, the Onism line was long and varied. They were an old family . . . but not a big one. 

While the Onism name had endured for centuries, very few could recall or tell any tales about any of its forebearers or resultant descendants. This was likely due to the fact that no one in Onism family lived to an especially old age. It was true, rarely in the family’s history had anyone reached an age greater than their late 30’s (or an equivalent youth during the times that elvish blood entered the family tree). As certain as it was that members of the Onism family would meet an untimely fate, it was equally certain that, before their passing, they would bear a male heir to continue their line. This endless iteration is often explained by one of the only stories passed down through the generations: the story of the Onism Curse! 

Generations ago, it was said that the patriarch of the Onism clan incurred a terrible curse upon himself that would wreak horror and woe unto his descendants in perpetuity, never letting the clan die out, but also, never letting it prosper either. In rare instances when a family bore multiple children, all the others would die out before propagating, leaving only a single heir to carry the name. Similarly, attempts to end the family line early were always doomed to failure, suicide attempts never succeeded, and vows of celibacy were always thwarted. Exact details of the story either vary, or have been lost completely to time, but whatever the case, no Onism doubts the veracity of the tale. Another thing that few doubt is that the family is haunted. The rare surviving stories passed down through the Onism family tell of supernatural events surrounding family members prior to their passing. Events such as moving objects, mysterious messages, and the odd observance of a spectral figure have contributed to the theory that the specific deaths which befell each Onism in their time were not simple misfortune brought on by a curse, but, in fact, perpetrated by a vengeful spirit. Although, there are still disagreements among surviving kinfolk over whether the “curse” was simply the spirit the whole time, or if the spirit is the curse’s prosopopoeia. 

Regardless of the cause, every Onism grew up knowing that they were not long for the world. Some attempted to make peace with this and live their lives normally. Others tried to embrace it, living their lives chasing thrills and adventure. The most common response, however, was rejection and rebellion, attempting to fight against, or outwit, the curse and break the cycle. Such was the case of the patriarch of the most recent generation, Azotic Onism. Following the birth of his own son, Azotic, like many before him, sought a way to break the curse and save, if not himself, his son. Unlike many before him, it seems he succeeded. Azotic’s search led him to a powerful necromancer who offered him a solution; since the spirit was bound to his family, his family would be used to bind the spirit. Tasked with obtaining a complete bone, tooth, or urn of ash from every deceased member of his family, an onerous labor in its own right, Azotic and the mage were able to bind the spirit to the ancestral remains, seemingly holding its wrath at bay. Warned that this may not be a permanent solution, Azotic was encouraged to continue his search for a way to permanently dispel the specter. With this goal in mind, Azotic had the bones fashioned into a shield and armor, to keep the phantom close under his watch, bid his family farewell, and set off on his quest of eidolic expulsion. 

I think this one came on the heels of Fizban’s having just come out. In particular, they had added the feature that breath attacks were now an attack, instead of an action, meaning that martials could now drop multiple breath attacks in a single round. So . . . fighter. Since the breath weapon scaled off of constitution, it seemed like good synergy to pair it with a class that also benefited from good Con (I mean, besides the usual benefit of more Hit Points). Lo and behold, the Echo Knight’s Unleash Incarnation can be done Con times per rest. After that, was the question of which kind of Dragonborn to go with? I knew I wanted to use Gem Dragonborn (because they were shiny and new, and I AM was a basic bitch), but when deciding which kind to pick, I wanted to try and balance a damage type that isn’t often resisted, with a damage resistance that you might actually get some decent milage out of (i.e. psychic is a great damage type to use on enemies, but how often is it used against you?). In the end I decided that Topaz and its necrotic arsenal seemed like a good mix of offense and defense. 

Not sure where in this process I decided on Haunted One as a background, but the Class, Race, and Harrowing Event all just came together to make a nice spooky theme as well as a nice, setting-neutral, reason for why your fighter is able to spawn a shadowy duplicate of himself. Add in the Topaz coloration and the whole wearing-the-bones-of-his-family-and-ancestors-as-armor thing, and you’ve got a solid Day of the Dead vibe. 

Depending on how the story goes, I could see your DM giving you some additional spoopy toys to play with like one of Van Richten’s Dark Gifts, or you could do it yourself by multiclassing into something else befitting the theme, like Ancestral Guardian Barbarian or Astral Self Monk.

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Berg Goldfinch (he/him): Human (Variant: Observant)/Artificer (Battle Smith) + Wizard (Bladesinger) 

Background: City Watch (Neverwinter: Wintershield Watchmen) 

Personality Trait: I’m always polite and respectful. 

Personality Trait: I’m full of inspiring and cautionary tales from my military experience relevant to almost every combat situation.  

Ideal: I do what I must and obey just authority. 

Bond: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for. 

Flaw: I’d rather eat my armor than admit when I’m wrong.

A lifelong resident of Neverwinter, Berg always had a deep-seated desire to help others, and found this wish fulfilled when he joined the Wintershield Watchmen. Gifted with a sharp mind and keen observational skills, Berg actually did rather well carrying out the duties of a Watchman. However, Berg was not satisfied with just investigation and criminal apprehension. A true native of Neverwinter, Berg found he had an aptitude for invention (though some would later come to debate this fact) and wanted to incorporate this newfound passion into improving his duties as a Watchman. He worked tirelessly, creating arcane contraptions to aid in his police work, resolute in his faith in his devices and unmindful of the complaints from his well-intentioned but imperceptive colleagues. Colleagues who often claimed that his contraptions were "obtuse" or "overly complicated" or "prone to catastrophic malfunction and misfire". They just couldn’t see the potential he could, the benefits that would far outweigh any, slight, risk of malfunction. 

These criticisms became somewhat harder to ignore, however, when one of his larger scale security installations that he had constructed (without authorization) somehow malfunctioned. Designed to warn of approaching danger while simultaneously warding against it, its failure caused a, not insignificant, amount of damage. While, miraculously, no one was hurt, Berg was nonetheless relieved of his duties and banished from Neverwinter. Now without a job, but still committed to helping and protecting those in need, Berg decided to take the opportunity to work freelance as an adventurer, vanquishing evil and showing the world the true efficacy of his inventions.

So, yeah. You may have noticed that this lists two classes and two subclasses. Usually, whatever the gimmick or other basis or the character is, it usually just leads to a single subclass (maybe some feats) to fit the image, because the image and/or arc is the important part of the character to me. In this particular case, the inciting incident was “How can I build a non-CHA version of the Hexblade?”. A martial build that uses one of the other mental stats instead of physical. Currently, I don’t know what would make a good martial WIS build (Astral Self Monk? As a base?) but Battle Smith does just that for INT. Combine the martial artificer with the martial wizard, the Bladesinger, and . . . I know I’m not the only one who sees the potential (though I do seem to be the only one who wants to take more than just 3 levels of artificer, you split the build 50/50 and you can be adding you INT to almost everything). 

But I digress, obviously he’d be your character by that point to multiclass (or not) at your leisure. The interesting thing about Berg, though, is, unlike most PCs in this series, I’ve actually played him once. I mean . . . the campaign fizzled before we even hit Level 2, but still.

Initially, I think I'd been aiming for the Clan Crafter background, sort of an inventor turned adventurer as a marketing tactic to show off how good his products are, but it just felt . . . flat(?) to me. Then, I took a look into the City Watch and its example of the Wintershield Watchmen who guard the "City of Skilled Hands". The more I looked into Neverwinter, the more I thought "You know what? This might be the perfect place to create an inventor town guard", and the reason why he's not a guard anymore (because unless your campaign takes place in a single city, he'd have to be free to wander as he pleases)? He's a bit too confident in his own inventions and that's come back to bite him enough times that his superiors finally just kicked him out.

One last thing I should probably explain, in the summary I mentioned Rube Goldberg and . . . yeah. While trying to come up with what his artificer spellcasting looks like, I came upon the second gimmick that would inform his character: “INT-based Hexblade that casts spells by rapidly throwing together obscenely overly complicated Rube Goldberg machines”. I could see some DMs possibly having some logistical questions about this, but so long as they’re permitting, I envision Berg having done this so many times (and knowing his own inventions inside and out) that he just throws together his random bullshit like a LEGO commercial, and/or having already assembled it by the time the proverbial “camera” turns to him. Go through the Artificer spell list and have fun coming up with over-the-top ways to cast various spells (especially if you’re ritual casting, you’ve got ten minutes to describe the most over the top nonsense you can think of).

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618 “Brobding Nagian” (he/him): Warforged/Fighter (Cavalier) 

Quirk: War is the only thing that makes sense to you, and you’re always looking for a fight. 

Background: Soldier (Officer) 

Personality Trait: I enjoy being strong and like breaking things. 

Personality Trait: I face problems head-on. A simple, direct solution is the best path to success.

Ideal: In life as in war, the stronger force wins. 

Bond: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for. 

Flaw: I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior.

Forged for war, WF: 618 never shied from battle. He was built to be the biggest, acting simultaneously as shield and battering ram on the battlefield. He knew his purpose and would have spent an eternity waging war without complaint. Content was he to fight, and content would he be to fall in battle. But wars are not waged for eternity, and in time, the war he had been commissioned to fight for had ended, and his Warforged kin freed of their service. From the lowest skirmisher to the mightiest juggernaut like himself, his brethren were free to do as they wished, and while some took to this freedom with zeal, WF: 618 found himself adrift. 

They had been told that they could do whatsoever they desired, but all WF: 618 desired, all that he knew, was fighting; battle; warfare. He attempted to integrate as the others had, he even tried taking a name after it was provided by one particularly awestruck villager who proclaimed him to be Brobding Nagian. But the only times he had felt fulfilled, of worth, was when something was going wrong. When dangerous, exotic, beasts got loose from their handlers, when rowdy drunkards began tavern brawls, whenever, wherever there was fighting to be done, Brobding would invariably find himself there, looking for any opportunity to do what he had been made for. 

He needed battle, he needed more. But where to find it? He had been approached in the past about working as a bouncer or a bodyguard, and while he occasionally found the battle he sought there, more often than not he found his presence seemed to discourage fighting. He had heard tell of fighting rings, but either the town he resided in had none, or he knew not how to find it. Perhaps there was satisfaction to be found in this “adventuring” business he had heard some of the drunkards speak of?

And we have our second in the series of characters who couldn’t remember/didn’t have a name, so just took those words what people called them and made that their name instead. 

For some reason, I have a weird self-imposed “No repeating” rule where, if I use a particular subclass, race, subrace, or background for a character, I try to avoid using the same one again. The further we go, we’ll see there are exceptions (backgrounds especially [it’s not my fault Soldier and Outlander work so well for so many things]) Warforged being among them. This is a holdover from Brobding’s inception when Warforged actually did have subraces. In the case of Brobding, he was originally slated to be a Juggernaut Warforged, an absolute unit who would charge straight into the enemy. After Wayfinder’s Guide to Eberron got dropped in favor of Eberron: Rising from the Last War, I dropped the Juggernaut aspect with it, but decided to keep the “absolute unit” part anyway. 

Just like Berg last week, Brobding has the distinction of being a PC I’ve actually played in real life. I got to bust him out for a high level one shot, and it was very . . . underwhelming. Now, 99% of that was because one of the other players was a min-maxer with Main Character Syndrome and a staggering disregard for what was and wasn’t homebrew and essentially rendered me obsolete to the game, but the other 1% was that I initially played him as a Champion Fighter instead of Cavalier (because I figured that for a battle bot who’s only interested in fighting, it would make sense to make the most fightery fighter to ever fighter) and Champion is . . . kinda boring. It’s not bad, per se, it’s just got a lot of passive buffs without any active features for you to choose to use or not use. 

After that first, middling, experience I decided to go back to the drawing board and see what other fighter subclasses (that I hadn’t already used) there were. That was when I noticed that Cavalier, despite being marketed as the mounted cavalry subclass, actually had very little to do riding on a mount and more to do with drawing aggro and hitting people so hard they fall prone, which was actually perfect! Throw in Crusher, Shield Master, and, heck, even Charger if you’re feeling spicy, with fighting style to flavor, and you’ve got a living battering ram doing a halfway decent impression of Sauron with his mace. 

As for character arcs, the obvious one might be to go the Iron Giant route, learning to find value in something other than wanton violence (Oath of Redemption multiclass? Peace domain cleric?). Alternatively, maybe the party is a bunch of murder hobos, and you decide to double down on the violence and destruction (Oath of Conquest? Barbarian of . . . well, any stripe) the choice is yours.

Edit: And . . . I would encourage you to choose something closer to the former. As I was reminded of only after this chapter was basically said and done, a character whose only concern is combat will make the non-combat portions of the game feel pretty slow. So, if you do choose Brobding to grace your next campaign, I encourage to you think hard and keep an eye out for anything that might catch his fancy: does he find he enjoys using his strength to help people lift heavy loads and be of general service? Does he find a fascination with blacksmithing, beating something with a hammer repeatedly only to end up creating something instead of destroying it? Will he shock the group by having a surprisingly deep take on a piece of art? Or does he really like birds? Just . . . anything to help him realize what a Warforged is without the War. My initial concept for Brobding and my other Warforged character eventually boiled down to: one had boundless curiosity, and the other (Brobding) had none at all. That . . . was probably a mistake on my part. One that you will have carte blanche to correct in any way you desire. Have fun with it.

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Cade Greenbottle (he/him): Halfling (Stout)/Wizard (Divination) 

Background: Gambler 

Personality Trait: I’m one of Lady Luck’s favored. Anything I try is destined to succeed.

Personality Trait: Nothing is certain. Planning is a coward’s act.

Ideal: You can't win if you're dead. Live to fight another day - when the odds might be more in your favor.

Bond: A patron once fronted me money in exchange for a percentage of my winnings. I owe them a debt of gratitude. And a lot of cash.

Flaw: I’m a great gambler. I’m just bad at math and logic.

If there was a single name that was beloved by tavern owners and reviled by casino owners in equal measure, it would probably be: Cade Greenbottle. More than just “lucky”, it was as if Lady Luck herself were his own mother. Cade’s first day in a new town would be spent playing cards or rolling dice wherever people played for stakes, and the next would be spent frittering away his winnings on whatever, or whoever, caught his fancy. And so, the cycle would continue until Cade was banned from every gambling hall in town under suspicion of cheating (not that the owners could ever prove it, of course), at which point he would gather up what remained of his winnings and make his way to the next town to start the cycle all over. 

It was on one of his money-spending days that Cade’s insouciant life finally changed. As he was sitting in a local tavern, drinking up the last of his winnings, and as the bartender was descending to the cellar to pull up a new cask of ale, a feuding pair of adventuring parties got into a heated debate. Hotheaded individuals by their nature and made even more so by their reckless consumption of alcohol, the argument soon turned physical, with blades being drawn and spells being prepared. Most of the other tavern-goers smartly decided to find somewhere else to drink, while Cade, incessantly successful git that he was, felt no need to relocate and continued his drinking as if nothing was amiss. It was through this decision that Cade’s luck ran out . . . by not running out. 

The battle was brief, but calamitous, and when the tavernkeeper returned from the cellar, he found his alehouse all but burned to the ground, nearly all the furniture smashed to pieces, and the floor littered with the groaning, unconscious, or, in one instance, dead bodies of adventurers. All that was, except for one, singular, halfling, knocking back the last of his ale without a care in the world, still perched in the only chair in the whole building to escape completely unscathed. Mistaking Cade’s usual self-satisfied look for one of victory, the tavernkeeper blamed him for the destruction, a misunderstanding that the few still-conscious instigators were only too eager to perpetuate. 

Fortunately, Cade’s luck wasn’t out yet. As it happened, one of Cade’s previous ventures to the gambling hall resulted in a humiliating defeat for the rival of one of the town’s elites. Said elite also happened to be passing by what remained of the tavern at just this time and, upon recognizing the enemy of his enemy, stepped in to cover the damages on Greenbottle’s behalf. The only condition being that the elite would be repaid, albeit on a much more relaxed timetable than the irate tavernkeeper was demanding, and for only half of the initial damages. Freed from the worst of his troubles, but saddled with debt nonetheless, Cade now found himself with a goal for the first time that he could recall: pay off the debt, the sooner the better. Cade wished to be rid of this obligation as quickly as possible, and to do that, he would need more money than craps tables and pool halls could supply. 

Although . . . if adventurers got him into this mess, perhaps adventuring could get him out . . . 

Yeah, I wouldn’t be too shocked if your DM vetoed this for their own sanity. If you saw the video I linked last week, then you’ll understand where the skeleton of this idea came from. While most builds I come up with are themed around synergy (pairing like with like and racial bonuses with the classes that most benefit from them, etc.), I think this is the closest that any of my characters gets to outright game breaking, at least deliberately so: a halfling divination wizard with the Lucky feat, a player with unprecedented power over dice rolls. Heck, thanks to The Book of Many Things, if you take the Rewarded background instead of Gambler, you could even get Lucky online at Lv. 1 rather than 4 

But be that as it may, I still had a lot of fun writing this one. The idea of a character perpetually falling upwards was very amusing to me. Someone who plays games of chance because, for them, there is no chance involved. They make their living taking other people to the cleaners, and then just riding that high until they’re out of money and need to start again. I’m particularly proud of his inciting incident being that his luck was so good that it actually looped right back around to being bad. 

As for his being a wizard, I see two avenues. 

Option 1: Just . . . never address it. He isn’t casting magic, that’s just how lucky he is. Were I to play him, the Lv. 1 spell loadout I would give him boils down to: 

Create Bonfire, Gust, and Infestation for the cantrips and, 

Alarm, Expeditious Retreat, Feather Fall, Ray of Sickness, Shield, and Silvery Barbs (if you want to be really sadistic) for the first six spells in the spellbook, 

mostly because I could see ways that each of those spells could be played off as just bad/good luck. Did you cast Ray of Sickness, or did one of the goons just have a bad case of food poisoning? Infestation or wasp nest that no one noticed until it was too late? You decide! And there are plenty more spells that didn’t make my initial list but could absolutely make yours. My personal favorite is playing off Witch Bolt as some poor sod being struck by lightning. Repeatedly. On a sunny day. While indoors. 

Option 2 is what I call the “10,000 hours” approach. Supposedly, you can master any skill with 10,000 hours of practice, and if Cade spends all his nights in casinos and gambling halls, what does he do during the day? Pick up hobbies of course! Maybe he was bored and decided to study up on the arcane one day, maybe he won a wizard’s spellbook in a game of cards (recurring villain?) and has been deciphering it little by little ever since. By that same merit, you can justify filling the extra language slot granted by the Gambler background with nearly anything. “Wait, how do you know Deep Speech?!” “Meh, found a translation dictionary at the library one day, and I had a weekend to kill.” 

Whichever you pick, the gimmick will probably wear thin eventually, so Cade might be better suited to one shots, or otherwise short-term campaigns. But, in the meantime, have fun squeezing every bit of wacky nonsense out of him that you can.

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Caerfras the Chrysalis (he/him): Dragonborn (Blue)/Cleric (Light) 

God: Lathander 

Background: Criminal 

Criminal Specialty: Fence 

Personality Trait: I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.

Personality Trait: I would rather make a new friend than a new enemy.

Ideal: I’m loyal to my friends, not to ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. 

Bond: Someone I love died because of a mistake I made. That will never happen again. 

Flaw: I turn tail and run when things look bad.

Rhogar Carek had never wanted much out of life. If he’d had his druthers, he would have been the proprietor of the antique store, Rhogar’s Requiem , until the day he died, or achieved a very comfortable retirement with his wife, Gwynevere . Unfortunately, the antique trade wasn’t quite the growth industry Rhogar had been hoping it would be. As it was, business was bad. It seemed that no one had any interest in relics of the past anymore, not unless they were imbued with magical power, at least, and those were few and far between in Rhogar’s Requiem . 

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, just before he could sit down with his wife to have a lengthy discussion about looking into new business ventures, a somewhat nervous looking young man entered his store looking to sell something. Rhogar would have preferred that the young man buy something instead, but heard him out nonetheless. The young man offered up a ring of, admittedly, stellar craftsmanship. Wanting to be a fair businessman, but wanting to retain his dwindling funds even more, Rhogar, reluctantly, pitched the young man a severely undervalued estimated for the jewelry. To his surprise, the gentleman didn’t even haggle, he accepted the first offer he got, took the money, and left. What was even more surprising was when, a short time later, another gentleman came in looking to buy that very same ring! While the man bought the ring without much hassle, he did caution Rhogar that a piece like that ring should, perhaps, be kept somewhere more out of sight; reserved only for those looking for something particularly special. Rhogar didn’t think much of this until, just a few days later, something very similar happened. Another individual came in looking to sell, was willing to part with the item for a fraction of its value, only for said item to be picked up shortly after at market value. 

Now, once might be happenstance, and twice might be coincidence, but after this happened a third time, Rhogar began to clue in that, whatever was happening, probably wasn’t strictly above board. At this, Rhogar had a choice to make: report the suspicious individuals, possibly receive a reward, and watch as business returned to near nonexistence, or play a willing party to this fencing scheme and reap the much-needed profits. Against his better judgement, Rhogar chose the latter. To his credit, though, things actually worked out well, at first. Once his criminal clientele caught on to the fact that Rhogar was both aware, and accepting, of their “business”, said “business” picked up. It looked like Rhogar might have been back on track for the retirement he sought, until . . . 

A particularly unusual item had been brought in to be fenced. Uniquely, it seemed that this piece might be one of the rare ones he dealt with that was actually magical in nature. As expected, someone came by shortly after to retrieve the item, what was un expected, however, was that this individual was not the intended buyer. She was the one from whom the object was stolen, she was not happy, and she was not alone. In short order, the woman and her goons had captured Rhogar and Gwynevere , the latter of whom was thoroughly in the dark as to how Rhogar had actually turned the business around, and was demanding to know who had brought the item in. This was information that Rhogar could not provide, by design he maintained a degree of anonymity with his clients, he knew many faces, but very few names. Obviously, this would not satisfy the mysterious woman nor the henchmen holding his wife hostage, so Rhogar made a decision. A rash decision, but a decision that he hoped would give his beloved an opportunity to escape. And so, he attacked. Hurling up lightning at the men holding his wife and shouting for her to run, he tried to draw all attention to himself. 

What followed was a blur, but Rhogar did remember being attacked, something catching fire, his store going up in flames, everyone clamoring for safety, Gwynevere . . . not finding it. Barely alive himself, Rhogar fled the city in the confusion. He ran, but he knew not where. He had lost everything, he had nowhere to go and no one he felt he could trust, not even himself. He dared not rely on his own judgement to carry him through, considering how well that had worked for him before. So, he wandered with little to do but amble, scrounge, . . . and pray. Rhogar prayed for a guiding hand to show him the right way, since he clearly knew it not himself. Eventually, he found his prayer answered, probably. He had a dream. In this dream he was visited by Lathander the Morninglord, god of renewal, who offered Rhogar a chance at a new start and a new path to follow, until such a time that he was ready to walk on his own again. Rhogar accepted the deal, Lathander would show the way, and, in exchange, he had granted Rhogar some of his power, but it would be up to Rhogar’s judgement to know how best to use it. In addition, Lathander rechristened Rhogar Carek to Caerfras the Chrysalis, an embryo rebuilding itself until it was ready to reemerge. 

Yeah . . . I’m not actually totally sure how being a fence works, every time I tried to look it up, I just found info about illegal sword fighting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. If (for whatever reason) you know more about how something like this works, then feel free to tweak things to your preferred level of realism. 

Caerfras was tough to create. Not just because I don’t know how crimes work, but because creating a cleric of any kind is difficult for me to get my head around. As someone who has never been particularly religious, creating a character defined by faith and peonage to a god was . . . interesting to contemplate. What exactly Lathander and Caerfras’ relationship will entail will ultimately be up to you and your DM, but I might recommend placing an emphasis on Caerfras and decision-making. 

When I first started coming up with this character, early in my D&D career, I remember reading in the Player’s Handbook about how Dragonborn were proud and self-sufficient, with a big emphasis on honor and devotion to their clan. Naturally, my first thought was “But what if not?” (I’m so original, I know). So, the earliest drafts of Caerfras involved him experiencing something that got him banished from his tribe and shattered his pride and, more importantly, his confidence. I . . . was never quite sure how to go about that. I think my first idea involved him being a part of some sort of scouting party, getting attacked by a monster which left him as the only survivor, but when he went to report back to the rest of his tribe . . . idk, they somehow thought he did it and kicked him out? I was trying to go for something bizarre that would gaslight him into not knowing what was true, but I was never able to come up with anything that felt like it held up to the slightest bit of scrutiny. So, he sat on the back burner until a friend proposed the idea of his having been a former member of a criminal organization, such as a cult or the Zhentarim or something. I still had trouble fleshing out what exactly the “breaking point” was, and just kept tinkering with it little by little until he became what he is now: someone who made a risky decision to save his business and, as a result of that decision, lost everything he loved. I imagine his primary “gimmick” is being neurotically, pathologically, indecisive. What spells to pick for the day? Left or right? Cast a cantrip that’s weaker, but free, or spend a spell slot on a more powerful spell knowing it could miss or be resisted? Generally being terrified of committing to anything for fear of it going as catastrophically as it did last time. And that’s to say nothing of if his past should come calling.

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Confla Brushfire (she/her): Halfling (Lotusden)/Druid (Wildfire) 

Background: Outlander 

Origin: Guide 

Personality Trait: I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups.

Personality Trait: I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.

Ideal: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it.

Bond: My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me.

Flaw: I am too enamored of ale, wine, and other intoxicants.

Confla Brushfire was many things; a druid, a medicine woman, a lifelong inhabitant of Charis, and a guide on expeditions throughout the Lotusden Greenwood. Whether it be to help her fellow townsfolk forage for food, or to help hapless newcomers to the Greenwood reach their destinations, Confla was always there to light the way and clear the path with a cleansing flame. And in a thicket as belligerent as the Lotusden Greenwood, there was no shortage of corrupted paths to clear. Within Charis, no gods were so venerated as the Wildmother, and, though not a cleric herself, Confla was as devoted a follower to Melora as any. So it was that one night, when Confla was sleeping, she received a vision from the Wildmother warning of a terrible threat on the horizon and calling her to service. 

The next morning, Confla packed her things, explained the situation to those closest to her, said her goodbyes and set off on her journey. Keeping a weather eye out for signs from her goddess, whether they be dangers to overcome, or friends to help her on her journey, Confla set out to be the guiding light, saving her home from the coming darkness. 

I’m . . . honestly not happy with this one. 

The backstory, I mean. Not Confla herself. I had so much trouble with this, and I think it shows. I haven’t checked to confirm, but I’m fairly certain that this is the shortest backstory of the whole lot. 

Ever since the Circle of Wildfire came out, I’d wanted so badly to create a Wildfire Druid. I just had so much difficulty with answering the question of “Why Wildfire?”. Like, yeah, I know wildfires in nature can be beneficial; replace the old with the new, return nutrients to the soil, yadda yadda yadda. But, like, they’re not supposed to be an everyday occurrence, right? Despite what the American Midwest might have you believe; fires aren’t supposed to be such a common affair that a druid could safely base their identity around the idea of constant arson. So, I ended up spending a lot of time spinning my wheels trying to rectify these elements. 

I looked everywhere for something that might spark an idea. Reviewing the subclass’ flavor text, going through Xanathar’s Origins tables, pouring over the different backgrounds (Faction Agent: Emerald Enclave? They seem pretty against deforestation . . . One of the Ravnica backgrounds? Fire might fit the Cult of Rakdos but, ehhhhh). Eventually, I decided to look at the lore for the Lotusden Halflings (which I only really picked in the first place because it was new and already druid-y) and finally, FINALLY, hit paydirt! The Critical Role Wiki describes the Lotusden Greenwood as the “home of uncontrolled, corrupted fey magic” and “unnatural growth”. In other words: Corruption, rot, and what sounds like a whole lot of Kill It With Fire! A place where a Wildfire Druid might find a lot of use burning away the rot and fighting against the corruption with purifying fire. Additionally, despite my backstory tying her to Exandrian lore, I’m sure any campaign setting worth its salt has a dark wood or corrupted bog that can fill the same role as the Lotusden Greenwood. Faerûn’s Shadow-cursed Lands being one example. 

Once I found a hook I felt happy with, I think I was desperate to get it on paper and just be able to say that I’d done it. Who is she? A guide, when people go into the dangerous woods, she goes with them to make sure they all come back. She guides, she defends, she heals, all that good stuff. Why is she out adventuring? Ehhhhh, vague premonition of danger that she needs to stop. Boom. Done. Signed. Sealed. On to the next one. 

Despite my initial negativity and rather skin and bones authorship for her, I actually think that there’s a lot here. Leaning into her role as a guide and the Personality Trait I highlight above, Confla could slot into the “Team Mom” role quite nicely. A versatile powerhouse constantly fretting over the wellbeing of the rest of the party, making sure the other PCs are okay when their tragic backstories invariably rear their heads at the worst possible times. Sure, she might not have as much going on as others might, but if you’re more creative than I am, then I’m sure you can rectify that easily enough. Heck, if you wanted to ignore the “prophecy of doom” part of the backstory, you could just start the campaign saying that the party needs some macguffin from the heart of the cursed woods and Confla is initially brought in initially to be their local guide, but decides to stick with the party long-term because {insert reason here}. And even if you don’t, it’s not the worst thing being everyone else’s rock, is it?

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Crag “the Enduring” Slateflayer (he/him): Genasi (Earth)/Druid (Moon) 

Background: Outlander 

Origin: Exile 

Personality Trait: I place no stock in wealthy of well-mannered folk. Money and manners won’t save you from hungry owlbear.

Personality Trait: I feel far more comfortable around animals than people.

Ideal: The natural world is more important than all the constructs of civilization. 

Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me. 

Flaw: I remember every insult I’ve received and nurse a silent resentment toward anyone who’s wronged me.

From the moment of his birth, Crag seemed destined for hardship. An earth genasi born to Dwarven parents Crag Slateflayer grew up in the small mining town; Prosperity Sure . While his parents never showed him any difference for his elemental nature, Crag couldn’t ignore the sidelong looks the other townsfolk tended to send his way. Despite all this, Crag had a fairly standard upbringing and, once of age, began working in the town’s diamond mines alongside the rest of his family. For a time, it was respectable work; dangerous, certainly, but set up with the workers in mind. However, as the town began to flag, and business dried up, a difficult decision was made. 

The diamond mine, which, until this time, had always been property of the town, was purchased by a private corporation, D.B. Ruse Diamond Co. , in a move meant to “rescue” the town. While, on paper, the move might have done as it promised, as the town did begin to thrive once more, the same would probably not be said by those who worked to produce Prosperity Sure ’s main export; diamonds. Under the yoke of the company work became harder, quotas were set higher, and punishments for not meeting those quotas became harsher. Supervisors began cracking down on those who didn’t meet their standards with anything from fines to physical punishment. While few were spared this harsh treatment, Crag seemed to suffer the worst of it. Apparently, his elemental nature led his superiors to believe that he should be harvesting the most diamonds out of all the workers and so was met with increasingly sterner punishments whenever he failed to meet their elevated expectations, as such, his barely earned any wage for his labor and his back was littered with scars courtesy of the foreman’s lash. 

Amidst all of this, as the miners were being pushed harder and harder, the safety standards of the mines themselves became more and more lax, until the tunnels the miners worked in were being supported by nothing but rotted lumber that was long overdue to be replaced, or by cheaper, softer, timber that was ill suited to the task. On and on it went until the inevitable happened. Crag was among the lucky few who managed to pull themselves free from the collapse. His parents were not. And losing everything he had ever cared for was not the end, for when the outcry arose, and the townsfolk looked for someone to blame, the company were quick to play on the obvious wariness the townsfolk had toward the genasi in their midst (as well as one of the only ones to have escaped the accident) and began to cast every aspersion imaginable onto him, from claiming that his mere existence brought misfortune, to claiming that he had participated in active sabotage. 

So it was that Crag Slateflayer found himself bereft of his family and exiled from his home, left with no other option but to make his home in the forests, as far from Prosperity Sure as he could manage. He had lost everything, but he would not be cowed, he would not be broken. Whatever the world would try to throw at him, he would take it, bear it. He would . . . endure. 

Bet you thought the angsty boy who gave himself an edgelord name like “the Enduring” was gonna be a rogue didn’t you? Well, I’m just full of surprises! If you’re wondering about his parentage, I’m borrowing from Critical Role lore where Genasi can be born of races who have close ties to certain elements (Dwarves with earth, Tieflings with fire, Halflings with Air [for some reason], and Humans with water [also for some reason]). 

Crag is probably one of my earliest creations . . . which might explain why I imagine him as a standoffish loner with a deep mistrust of others. You know . . . perfect for a cooperative storytelling game! With the benefit of hindsight, it would probably work just as well for him to merely be mistrustful of shopkeepers, businesspeople, nobles/the rich, etc. In essence, Greed, since that was at the core of the events that ruined his life. For a possible plot hook to get Crag with the party, I’d imagined some sort of problem arising in the forest. The rest of the party goes to investigate and along the way they stumble upon Crag who’s forced to partner up with them to fix whatever is threatening the balance of nature (illegal loggers/poachers, unnatural monstrosities, demonic/devilish incursion, what have you). Either that alone is enough to get Crag out of his funk and make him want to give people another chance, or the inciting incident is part of something larger and Crag goes with the party to make certain the enemy doesn’t get a chance to pull something like this in his forest again. 

As to the choice of subclass, I will fully admit that it doesn’t really inform the backstory at all (unless you want to think of it as his aggressive and prickly nature manifesting as him turning into aggressive and prickly animals) nor vis versa. Almost anything could work, like Land for an Earth Genasi deeply in tune with the Earth or Shepherd since Earth Genasi are described as making “natural soldiers”, perhaps you are nature’s soldier, leading nature’s army of forest critters. Honestly, I only picked Moon because I loved the idea of an Earth Genasi turning into an Earth Elemental (edit: Damn You 2024 Player's Handbooooooook!). 

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Deimos “the Wolfsbane” Kiln-borne (he/him): Genasi (Fire)/Blood Hunter (Ghostslayer) 

Background: Mercenary Veteran 

Personality Trait: A signature piece of clothing or distinct weapon serves as an emblem of who I am.

Personality Trait: I compulsively seek to collect trophies of my travels and victories.

Ideal: I must do something great so that I’m remembered, and my time is running out.

Bond: My honor is my life.

Flaw: I know the ends always justify the means and am quick to make sacrifices to attain my goals.

Born of an Elvish mother and a father who he had never known, but was clearly more than he had let on, Deimos Kiln-borne was the only Genasi in his entire village. Unused to an elemental-blooded individual living in their midst, the townsfolk of Refuse met Deimos with curiosity, at best, but most often with suspicion and trepidation. In such a small community, everyone knew who he was, most not even bothering to refer to him by name, merely calling “Genasi!” to get his attention. It was no shock then that Deimos grew up with a chip on his shoulder and a desire to be seen (and judged) as more than just what he was, but who he was. Fate would conspire to provide him just such an opportunity in time. 

One day, the village of Refuse was beset by a pack of dire wolves. Deimos might not have had much love for the hamlet, nor its inhabitants, but Refuse was still his home, and he would be damned if he saw it fall to a bunch of beasts. Taking up a greatsword, Deimos entered the fray. With a mix of natural talent with a blade, careful planning, and (though Deimos would never admit it) a great deal of luck, Deimos not only survived the ordeal but somehow felled three of the beasts himself before the rest of the pack was repelled. Seeing what he had done, how hard he had fought to protect them, the people of his village gained a new respect for him and cheered his name. From that day on, Deimos Kiln-borne was known to the people of Refuse as Deimos the Wolfsbane. 

Now having a taste for respect and admiration, Deimos quickly found he wanted more. Leaving home for greener pastures, Deimos joined with the mercenary band, The Blades of Damocles , to hone his skills with a blade. Favoring larger, heavier, weapons for the feeling of strength they imparted when wielded, Deimos quickly found his place on the battlefield laying waste to his foes with mighty slashes. As in love as he was with the feeling of power his training brought him, Deimos was never one to settle and once he had mastered the martial talents, he set his eyes on a new skill to master and incorporate into his combat; magic. Naturally possessing of some magical ability, owing to his elemental heritage, Deimos wished to expand on these abilities but was unsure where to begin until he overheard one of his fellow Blades speaking in hushed tones of the Claret Orders and their Blood Hunters, dangerous monster hunters who used archaic blood magic to empower their strikes and curse their enemies. 

Deimos was enthralled by the concept and sought to learn more. At every turn he was warned away from the Blood Hunters though, told that they were dangerous, untrustworthy, little better than the monsters they hunted. Yet, they did hunt monsters. Though it seemed everyone could agree on what Blood Hunters generally did, Deimos was hard pressed to find anyone who had actually worked alongside a Blood Hunter and could actually speak to their character. Deimos, no stranger to unearned suspicion and prejudice, resolved himself to form his own opinion on the matter. To that end, Deimos broke ties with the Blades of Damocles and sought out the Claret Orders on his own. In time he would find them, his strength and determination earning him a shot at their trials. Though he would ultimately pass, relying on his strength to carry him through, the greatest test of his strength would come when it was time to imbibe the Hunter’s Bane. The final trial, the final separating of the wheat from the chaff, in which the weak would die, and the strong would survive, changed forevermore to be able to harness their own vitality into a weapon against their enemies. He drank it without a second thought and, while the aftereffects were far more severe than he’d dared to dream, he did awaken once more. 

Now, he’d tested his strength against the Claret Order’s greatest trial and succeeded. Now, he was a full-fledged Blood hunter. Now, he was ready. Ready to etch his legend into history. Ready to test his strength against the mightiest creatures the world had to offer. Until all the world knew his name and showed him the respect he deserved. Until he had forged his actions into a legend that would far outlive him. Until his strength won him immortality. 

Summary: 

This is him folks. The first. The OG. The one who started it all. The me-but-cooler self-insert that I suspect most everyone starts off with their first time out. To be honest, I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not I even wanted to include him in this series to begin with, as he is the character that is the most personal to me. 

Regardless, we’re here now, I suppose. Allow me, then, to do as I have done so far and tell you how he came to be. For most of my characters, I think my design philosophy is generally “this seems like a neat race/class/subclass, so what starting point (backstory) would realistically result in this as the end point (level 1/3 character)?”, sometimes vis versa. For Deimos, it was just . . . “what do I play? What do I want to be? ”. No gimmick, really, just “what sounds like something I would enjoy being for an extended period of time?”, taking my own preferences, philosophies, playstyles, etc. and finding the things that fit it. What race to play? Eh, human . . . elf . . . dwarf, they all sound like they’ve been done to death. What’s a Genasi? Half man half . . . genie!? WTF? ... “see themselves as equal to any challenge” ... “constantly push themselves to improve” ... so far so good ... “Less accepting of differences ... suspicious glare” ... okay. Fire Genasi, ... “fiery tempers . . . flaunt superiority . . . seek to enhance their reputations” sounds like exactly the kind of anime protagonist I want to play! (I'm joking, but only slightly)

While I lucked into the perfect race more or less right away, choosing a class was a bit more difficult. I wanted to be able to do . . . well, everything, if I’m being honest. I was new, sue me. Dailing it back a bit, I narrowed it down to wanting to be what I later learned was called a Gish, weapons and magic. Complicating things somewhat was that, to make the character more reflective of me, I also wanted to leave out anything divine; no domains, no patrons, no . . . God stuff. That meant no Clerics, Warlocks, Paladins (or so I thought at the time), even Druids and Rangers were too fuzzy to my noob eyes to make the first draft. In those days we didn’t have Bladesingers or Artificers, so my choices were limited. Barbarians were tough, but had no magic, Sorcerers and Wizards had magic, but were made of glass bones and paper skin, Bards were conceptually confusing, and Monks and Rogues? Eh. 

Scrolling through D&D Beyond I was all set to make an Eldritch Knight when I caught sight of something I’d never seen before: Blood Hunter. I still can’t believe the stroke of luck I had in finding this class, because it was everything I was looking for. Sword? Check. Sorcery? Check. Power derived from yourself instead of divinity? Double-check. Aaaaand, going into my first session . . . that was it. Deimos the Wolfsbane, Fire Genasi Blood Hunter. A prideful chode who liked being badass and doing badass things, basically just to flex on people and prove how tough he was. Also, he was on the hunt for his deadbeat Efreeti father. I added to and refined him as time went on and I grew more confident in the game, but to start with? That was it. Heck, he didn’t even have a Background until we were already several sessions in, and I didn’t start drafting his actual backstory until the campaign was nearly over (not that it would have really mattered much. It wasn’t the most narrative/character/roleplay driven group). 

While he’s still very much my boy, I can acknowledge the missteps I made in making the kind of character I did, and I’m sure I made plenty of tabletop faux pas that left a few of my fellow players thinking that I was That Guy. But the experience taught me a lot, and I’ve (hopefully) learned from my mistakes. Without it, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with this hobby that now occupies my nearly every waking thought.

I . . . don’t really know where I’m going with this. Well, less so than usual, anyway. Unlike the other characters in this series, I’m not offering Deimos, just . . . sharing with you the one who started it all. Before Deimos, I don’t think I could have ever imagined creating a character that wasn’t just . . . him, or someone like him. Now, I have more characters than I feel like I could ever play, and I’m putting them up for adoption for any who feels inspired to use them. It might not seem like much, but it’s still funny to me what you can learn about yourself, pretending to be someone else in D&D. 

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Demallion Bolger (he/him): Reborn/Warlock (Archfey) 

Faded Memories: A memory brings with it the voice of someone once close to you. How do they advise you? 

Reborn Origins: In public, you pass as an unremarkable individual, but you can feel the itchy straw stuffing inside you. 

Background: Feylost 

Fey Mark: Flowers wilt in your presence 

Feywild Visitor: Dryad 

Personality Trait: I’m haunted by fey laughter that only I can hear, though I know it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

Personality Tra it: When I have a new idea, I get wildly excited about it until I come up with another, better idea.

Ideal: I won’t let go of a grudge. 

Bond: I’m drawn to the Feywild and long to return there, if only for a short while. 

Flaw: I think the whole multiverse is out to get me.

Demallion Bolger was once a mighty Archfey. He was feared, respected, and beloved. He possessed sprawling estates, fabulous wealth, and legions of followers. He was great and powerful! At least . . . he thinks he was. In truth his memories are . . . hazy. His connection to the Feywild is definite, of that he has no doubt. Beyond that . . . he must have been important, right? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been betrayed. And he was betrayed. Usurped by feckless traitors who rose against him, bound his power, and cast him from his home. Worse yet, his binding did not merely leave him without power, he was sealed within an object. A hat. The (probably) once mighty Archfey, reduced to a mere article of clothing. 

From that point onward, his memories were truly lost. Demallion had no idea what had happened to him following his imprisonment, nor how long it was before his awareness returned to him in full. However long it had been, it had clearly been long enough that the hat had been cast from the Feywild to the Prime Material Plane, whereupon it had been discovered by a passing farmer who found no better use for it than to use it as decoration for one of his scarecrows. There he sat for days, weeks, months on end, wishing for a crow to carry him off, for the wind to blow him from his perch, if only to break up the monotony of his new hell. 

In time, however, Demallion began to turn his thoughts inward. Though significantly weakened, Demallion could still feel that a bit of his original power still remained. So, Demallion concentrated, marshaling every last dreg of his magical essence and disseminating it into the glorified cornhusk doll beneath him. It took time, but, eventually, Demallion found his senses expanding, he could . . . feel! Arms. Legs! He could move! Now with a body, no matter how paltry, Demallion was able to climb from his post and take his first steps toward a new life. And he had much to do. 

I’ve read enough reddit threads to know that I’m not the first one to have found this post and pondered the ways the “sentient hat piloting a mannequin” could work in D&D. Something I’ve seen slightly less of, however, is speculation on the actual story of such a character, beyond just the mechanics. 

Initially, I hadn’t thought much about it. I’d read the post, thought it was funny, and that was about it. But the idea of a hat piloting a fake body Mario Odyssey-style just wouldn’t leave me alone! So, once I realized I’d be thinking about it whether I wanted to or not, I decided to sit and have a nice long intentional think about it, and this was what I came up with. How does an ordinary object have sentience? Probably has something, or someone, sealed within. Probably someone powerful, powerful enough that killing them out right was too hard, and banishing/sealing them was the more achievable goal. Why a hat? Well . . . that one actually made me need to stop and think. I feel like when you usually hear about powerful beings being sealed away into objects, it’s usually into swords, shields, armor, gems, or even rings. Some random-ass hat holding a powerful entity feels weird, random, even a bit silly. And . . . everyone’s one stop shop for the weird, random, and silly is usually the Feywild. 

So, okay. We’ve got a powerful fey, sealed in a hat (for the Lulz, I guess), but where does the body come into play? I attribute this next part to the art of the Terrible Character Ideas, and my total misreading of it. It was not until I’d literally started writing this that I’d realized that what I had always thought was a little button eye was actually a round snub nose (the “x” over the other eye didn’t help matters). I had always thought that the head of the mannequin was more akin to a stuffed potato sack than anything more solid. An interpretation that lent itself well to the Reborn Origins that I highlight above and resulted in the idea of the living scarecrow; something altogether squishier than the more robust Warforged bodies that I would often see proposed. While Warforged was always a perfectly suitable option to take, now with the added benefit of finally realizing what the art was actually depicting, I’ve realized it is even more so. Though, if you decide you want to play him more as a tin man than a scarecrow, might I recommend changing his name to something more fitting like, Cannikin Haley? 

Speaking of options, the final piece of Demallion’s puzzle: his class. Using the idea that he was once an Archfey as the backdrop, I wanted to pick something that felt Fey-y. Admittedly, there are no shortage of options for this: Illusion/Enchantment Wizard, Glamour Bard, Trickery Domain Cleric, Wild Magic Sorcerer, Circle of Dreams, Oath of the Ancients, the list goes on. For my money though, I was particularly tickled by the idea of a Warlock who was, essentially, their own patron, trying to rebuild their lost power. For Pact Boons, I love the idea of using your own straw stuffing to craft your own cornhusk doll familiar (maybe with it’s own tinier hat for you to see through?), so I vote Pact of the Chain. 

The Feylost background was just icing on the cake, particularly the fact that it gives you 3 Feywild trinkets to play with. Look through the list and see what kind of narrative you can create with the baubles. As an example, the three I picked were: 

• Old invitation to a banquet in the Summer Court, written in ink on vellum in Sylvan (Lured into a trap?) 
• Crystal orb that allows an elf who holds it to sleep (Component of something meant to pacify the powerful Fey?) 
• Tuning fork that sounds the tone for the F key (According to the Wiki, an F tone fork leads either to the Beastlands or Gehenna, depending on composition. Co-conspirators? BBEG?) 

Demallion could even be a useful inciting incident for the campaign. Pick some aspect of his situation you want to fix (his lost memories, being stuck in a hat, being locked out of the Feywild), the DM tells you that you’ve received word of a McGuffin that can solve one of these problems, but it supposedly resides deep in the heart of {insert name here}. Too dangerous to go it alone, you’ll need help. Enter the rest of the party. 

-You all meet in a tavern, responding to a help wanted ad put out by a mysterious benefactor who requires your assistance in an upcoming expedition he has planned. Your employer keeps his face hidden and wears a peculiar hat (Pay no attention to the hat atop my head, I . . . have trouble seeing, it is my Seeing Eye hat. Yes. I am a normal human just like you). He offers to reward you all with whatever spoils you find along the way, as long as you help him find what he is looking for. Somewhere along the way, the party is attacked by a group of . . . something. Despite your standard formation of tough martials in the front and squishy casters in the back, one of the somethings gets through and starts beating the stuffing out of your employer. Literally. Literal stuffing. Your employer is full of straw.-

Explanations ensue, sorry Mario your McGuffin is in another castle, and Bob’s your uncle. You’ve got an adventuring party motivated (hopefully) to help their employer/friend get back home, get his body back, and figure out what exactly happened in the first place. In addition to whatever personal quests they've got going on as well, of course.

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Dragut Cloudburst (he/him): Genasi (Water)/Warlock (Genie [Marid]) 

Background: Pirate 

Personality Trait: I never pass up a friendly wager.

Personality Trait: I like a job well done, especially if I can convince someone else to do it.

Ideal: I’m a predator, and the other ships on the sea are my prey. 

Bond: I was cheated out of my fair share of the profits, and I want to get my due. 

Flaw: I can’t help but pocket loose coins and other trinkets I come across.  

Dragut Cloudburst was many things; pirate, captain, gambler, possible kleptomaniac. Recently, that last one had gotten to be a slight problem. Once the proud captain of The Terrible Dogfish , Dragut promptly lost that title when his crew realized that his share of the loot had been growing surreptitiously larger with every raid. It was a testament to Dragut’s gift of gab that this transgression did not result in a visit to Davy Jones’ Locker, but it did, nonetheless, lead to him losing his ship and crew as they left him at the next port they came across and sailed off without him. 

Armed with the knowledge that it was 5 o’ clock somewhere, Dragut decided to drown his sorrows with some of the gold he had pickpocketed on his way off the ship. It was there that Dragut was approached by a stranger who claimed to have a proposition for the privateer and wished to speak with him privately. Dragut, too drunk and too bereft of options, acquiesced. Once alone, the stranger revealed himself to be Sekhuf the Unequaled , a powerful Marid, and Dragut’s father. He told the marauder that a contest, of sorts, had been commenced, and that Dragut had been chosen to represent Sekhuf in the trial. The contest was thus: 4 noble genies (one from each of the elemental planes) would go into the Prime Material Plane and choose one of their favored offspring. From there, the heir would be granted a measure of the genie’s power as well as a sacred treasure to protect. Then, the chosen offspring would venture into the world and seek out the other three heirs, best them in combat, and retrieve their sacred treasure. Once all four treasures had been brought together, the contestant would then be brought to meet with their genie patron and receive a grand reward. 

Thrilled at both the challenge and the promise of a reward, Dragut eagerly accepted. So, the bargain was struck and, with a handshake, Dragut was imbued with some of Sekhuf’s power and given a large blue pearl to protect, as well as a ring to help channel his new magic. With that, Dragut set off, ready to track down the other contestants and claim their treasures. And maybe find some allies to help make taking those treasures easier. No one ever said the fights had to be one-on-one, after all. 

The roots of this character can trace back to a few ideas I’d had. Firstly was the fact that I had already created Genasi characters of every other type (though we’ll be meeting my Air Genasi much much later), and I’d been chomping at the bit to fill out the roster, I’d just been waiting for the right inspiration to strike because . . . D&D Beyond’s Water Genasi lore is pretty scant. 

The second “root” from which Dragut sprouted was an idea I’d had while playing my first campaign as Deimos. The Genie Pact Warlock had just come out and I’d had a thought about a Genasi hunting their Genie parent. The Genie catches wind of this and (for lack of a better term) “deputizes” various other of his bastard children, making them Warlocks and charging them with defeating the first Genasi, promising great rewards to whoever brought them down. The magic might even work like a tontine; with each warlock felled, their power is then redistributed to the others, making each one faced more powerful than the last. With regards to Deimos, and the campaign I was involved in, I figured this probably wouldn’t be worth pursuing, but I liked the idea so much that I decided to put a pin in it and save it for later. 

“Later” came when I decided to hammer out Dragut and tweaked the concept, turning it from a contracted hit into a sort of competitive scavenger hunt. As the last chapter hopefully demonstrated, I love me some trinkets, and since the Sailor background gives you the option for one . . . how could I resist? When picking trinkets to serve as the “treasures”, I recommend checking out the trinket table from the Elemental Evil Player’s Companion as opposed to the vanilla Player’s Handbook one, since all the trinkets there already have an elemental lean to them. As indicated by the backstory, I, personally, chose the “eye-sized blue pearl that floats in salt water” (Elemental Evil Trinket #60), but almost anything could work. DM permitting, I might even recommend giving the “treasures” a sort of Locate Object-style enchantment to let the competitors know when they’re near each other. 

With regards to the contest, how much of it is legitimate? When you collect all four treasures, does a portal open straight to the Marid, only to be “rewarded” with a worthless bauble? Or is the prize an honest to gods Wish, but you have to find your own way to the Plane of Water to collect it and Sekhuf is counting on that being too much of a hurdle for you to actually show up? I don’t know, but you might ( wink, wink, nudge, nudge ). 

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Dream (he/him): Tiefling (Levistus)/Sorcerer (Divine Soul)

Background: Faceless

Faceless Persona: A flamboyant brigand

Personality Trait: I sleep just as much as I need to and on an unusual schedule.

Personality Trait (Persona): If someone is in trouble, I’m always ready to lend help.

Personality Trait: I think far ahead, a detachedness often mistaken for daydreaming.

Personality Trait (Persona): I misuse long words in an attempt to sound smarter.

Ideal: Be a symbol and leave your flawed being behind.

Ideal (Persona): Nothing and no one can steer me away from my higher calling.

Bond: What I do, I do for the world. The people don’t realize how much they need me.

Bond (Persona): I protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Flaw: I am callous about death. It comes to us all eventually.

Flaw (Persona): The people who knew me when I was young know my shameful secret, so I can never go home again.

A bandit from birth, Efialtis had only ever known life amongst his tribe. A tiefling with icy blue skin and innate magic to match, he was known in his tribe as “The Iceman”, known for slowing his victim’s movements with his icy blasts and preventing their escape. Tribe members young and old knew him as an invaluable member of their raiding parties as this kept the local town's guard from learning any specifics about their activities. For Efialtis, life was harsh and cruel, but simple, and he found peace in that. Until one day, when Efialtis was dozing in the afternoon sun, something came to him. Efialtis dreamed of an epic battle, monstrous hordes fought back by noble heroes, interspersed with glimpses of golden light. Awoken from his dream (vision?), Efialtis felt something within, a light. It was a part of him, it was pure, and it was . . . good? It was the only way he could think to describe it, a sense of goodness that was unlike anything he had ever known living amongst his tribe. Somehow, someway, he was endowed with divine power. Had that dream shown him his past, his ancestors? His future? And why him? A tiefling, and a bandit besides, was he meant for something . . . more? 

He attempted to broach the subject with the tribe’s leader, Raith the Ruthless . However, as befitting a man of such a name, Raith was not the most philosophical about the matter, dismissing the very idea of destinies or higher callings as mere “pipe dreams”. This answer did not sit well with Efialtis, why would he have these powers if not to use them? For the first time, Efialtis felt discontent with his simple life, and craved more. Over time, life in the camp lost its appeal, raids against wagons stopped feeling satisfying, and Efialtis knew, to understand these new abilities and sort out these new feelings, he would need a change. He would need to leave. 

Not wanting to be recognized as a bandit, or worse, be recognized by bandits, Efialtis knew he had to make a clean break, and start completely fresh. If the idea of a higher calling was nothing but a dream, then a Dream he would become. Resolved in his course and covered head to toe in makeup and decoration to hide his identity, Dream set out, ready to see what fate had in store for him. 

Efialtis (Left) Dream (Right)

For many of the characters in this series, I can usually spin some grand tapestry of how they came to be. From the simple idea or gimmick that served as their inspiration, to the various twists and turns that changed them over time as I tried to flesh them out into something more 3-Dimensional. When it comes to Dream, I . . . don’t have anything. I’ve been thinking back on this character for the better part of a week, and all I’ve found is just how much I’ve forgotten about him. 

In my defense, I think he’s one of my older creations, so I haven’t had occasion to think about him for a while. However, a lot of the specifics of why I wanted to go in certain directions with him have fallen through the cracks. I believe the phrase “The Iceman Cometh” served as the inspiration for his being a Levistus Tiefling, as well as his nickname within the tribe, and (as stated in the backstory) the term “Pipe Dream” informed the name of his new identity. But that’s about it. 

I think that what I like most about Dream is the Faceless Background and the disguise kit it provides. As evidenced in the pictures, I imagine it being used to generate a full-body transformation, trying to make as much of himself as unrecognizable as possible so that neither the bandits he left behind nor the locals/party he tries to help will suspect that he is anything less than Dream: Robin Hood-esque bombastic do-gooder. But how might this present itself in gameplay? When the party stays at an inn, do you always make certain to get a room all to yourself so that no one sees you take off/reapply your make-up? How good is the make-up? Maybe it’s not so great, and you have to be wary of water making it run? And, what about the bandits you left behind? Surely, some brave heroes might be called in to deal with them at some point. First encounter with the enemy probably won’t go so bad, you have plenty of non-Tiefling spells to combat them with. But what about when one breaks off to raise the alarm to the rest of the tribe? You know you have a great cantrip for making sure he doesn’t get too far, but do you risk exposing yourself? Do you let them go, even though it might mean that reinforcements will be on their way? Food for thought. 

As for the class/subclass, if you wanted to tell me that this would make more sense as a Cleric than a Sorcerer, I don’t think I could argue. However, there are two reasons why I like Divine Soul Sorcerer better. Firstly, is the meeting of opposites, the Infernal and the Celestial. Admittedly, this could still work for a Cleric, but I like the idea of both sides being innate, almost a part of his physiology (which is how I usually view Sorcerers and their magic), as opposed to simply serving as a conduit for a god’s magic (which is how I usually view Clerics). Secondly, there’s the matter of what drives Dream’s decision making. Were he a Cleric, I would imagine that bestowal of power would come with some form of “You will work my miracles”-type conversation from whichever god happened to be making him their Cleric. Essentially, he stops being a bandit because “a god told me to”. Compare that to the more spontaneous manifestation of Sorcerous magic. No one gave it to him, no one told him what to do, he simply discovered that he had this power, and it made him ponder his actions and his life up to this point. Personally, I think that that makes for a more interesting character, but if you disagree, then that is your prerogative.

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Druziak Kurma (he/him): Githzerai/Wizard (War Magic) 

Githzerai Personality Trait: Emotions are a trap, meant to weaken the intellect and disturb the nerves. Pay them no heed. 

Githzerai Ideal: No strong soul should be enslaved. Better to die first than live as another’s puppet. 

Githzerai Bond: I will not rest until the last elder brain is destroyed. 

Githzerai Flaw: I believe in the supremacy of the gith and that githzerai and githyanki will align to rule the multiverse.

Background: Urban Bounty Hunter 

Personality Trait: I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.

Personality Trait: I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong.

Ideal: Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them.

Bond: I’m trying to pay off an old debt I owe to a generous benefactor.

Flaw: When I see something valuable, I can’t think about anything but how to steal it.

Druziak Kurma had lived his whole life in Shra’kt’lor, contemplating his existence, trying to know himself. Amidst his years of meditation, Druziak began to wonder about the nature of his people. What were they doing? What were they working towards? The Githzerai had come to Limbo to work on building the Gith culture that was stolen from them by the Mind Flayers, but what were they building? More and more it began to feel like their entire existence was simply to live in opposition to the Githyanki. When they weren’t meditating, their leaders were planning their next attack against the Githyanki, their homes were citadels meant to protect them from the Githyanki. And Mind Flayers as well, of course, but it felt as though all of their focus, all of their attention was directed toward Githzerai vs Githyanki. Gith vs Gith. Surely this could not be why they overthrew the Illithids? 

More and more, Druziak’s ample meditation was spent pondering the wonderful mystery of what the Gith might achieve were they to unite under one banner instead of warring with one another? In time, Druziak met others who thought as he did: the Sha’sal Khou. A group of renegade Gith (of both zerai and yanki) who sought the unification of the Gith people. It was through allegiance to them that Druziak found himself on the Prime Material Plane. While others of their group would work within the Githzerai and Githyanki to deescalate hostilities between the two groups, others, like Druziak, would work to hone their skills working towards the Sha’sal Khou’s other goal: the eradication of the Mind Flayers. This was an objective that the Sha’sal Khou felt that the other Gith had become distracted from in their pursuit of civil war. And so, Druziak trained, honing his talents so that when he was called to service, he would be ready. In the meantime, until such a time that an Illithid colony had been discovered, Druziak busied himself with matters along the Sword Coast. 

In particular, Druziak found lucrative, and practical, work in bounty hunting; finding and capturing those who did not want to be found. The difficulty of the work was a useful way for him to develop his skills, while the revenue earned from the bounties was able to go toward supporting the Sha’sal Khou’s efforts. Perhaps, more challenging work might come his way soon... 

I’m just going to say it: Githzerai lore SUCKS! Hot take, I know, but seriously! At least Githyanki do stuff. They sail the Astral Sea plundering the stars beyond the bounds of time. They live on a dead god and ride dragons! They’re at least somewhat active in the larger D&D cosmology. They have a coming-of-age ritual that requires them to go out into the Prime Material Plane and bring back the head of a Mind Flayer (which can loosely justify them joining up with a party). Githzerai? They don’t do squat! Mostly, they just sit around in their citadels and meditate. The most I could find about their activities boiled down to either injecting a portion of their citadel into the Prime Material Plane to spy on Githyanki and/or Mind Flayer goings on or sending out representatives to warn others and gather allies against the Illithid/Githyanki threats. I have a very difficult time reading that as anything other than just . . . Githzerai Mormons. Cool. 

After creating my Githyanki, Arraness, I’d really wanted to make a Gith zerai too (balance some scale in my head, I guess), but everything about them seemed so much flatter by comparison, I wasn’t sure where to start. My earliest drafts of Druziak had him as an Arcana Cleric. Where the lore describes most Githzerai as being, pretty much, just Monks with a lot of innate spells who revere Menyar-Ag as their leader, Cleric Druziak would be the first to worship him as a god. I had some neat ideas to go along with this, like maybe the other Githzerai didn’t take so well to Druziak’s coming-to-Jesus moment and view him as the village crazy person. The reason he’s on the Prime Material Plane? Ostensibly it’s to do the Githzerai Mormon-thing, but, in actuality, it was an excuse for the other Githzerai to get rid of him. Is Menyar-Ag actually a god, or was Cleric Druziak chosen by a totally different god, and he just thinks it’s Menyar-Ag? Was there even a god involved at all, or did he believe hard enough that he manifested Limbo’s malleable essence and gave himself divine magic? Like, I had ideas for this, and if you’re more creative than I am, then you could probably do a lot with this too. The problem was that every time I tried to flesh out who Druziak was beyond just being a Cleric and serving the Zaerith Menyar-Ag-Gith, I kept coming up empty. I didn’t think his “have you heard the good word about Menyar-Ag-Gith” schtick was nearly clever enough to warrant making it his entire personality, but I just couldn’t come up with anything that I liked. 

It wasn’t until months, if not years, later when I gave the third faction of Gith, the Sha’sal Khou, a proper look that the creative juices finally started to flow again, if barely. No longer a (possibly delusional) zealot, but a revolutionary attempting to reunite the warring Gith. The Urban Bounty Hunter background even provided some explanation for what he does with his day-to-day, since one can’t reasonably expect to fight Mind Flayers on a regular basis. 

When I started this project of giving backstories to all of my characters, one challenge I set for myself was to try to create the backstory while disturbing the original Race, Class, Subclass, and Background as little as possible from the original elevator pitch I’d devised. Backgrounds were often the first casualty, particularly for the characters I’ve had on the backburner the longest (Confla and Caerfras, as examples, cycled through a litany of backgrounds before settling into their final drafts), with Subclasses being a rarer change as I come across an idea that I think works better. Druziak marks the first, and only, time I’ve had to change the entire class to create a story that I felt satisfied with. Going the Sha’sal Khou route meant that the Cleric angle, as it was, didn’t really make sense anymore. Looking back on it, the Peace Domain could make sense thematically, but it would still involve scrapping most of the other gimmicks and ideas anyway, soooo . . . 

I decided to retool him from the ground up. This time I focused on spellcasting. Githzerai lore states that suitably powerful Githzerai, known as “zerths” (and, at even higher levels, “enlightened”), are able to replicate certain spells using their psionic abilities (Feather Fall, Phantasmal Killer, Plane Shift, and many more). I decided to see which spell lists the spells appeared on to see if there any classes that got access to all of them. And there were. Two of them, in fact! Both Wizards and Sorcerers can allow a Githzerai PC to access the same abilities as their peers. I decided to go with Wizard (obviously) and, in looking through the subclasses, I was really taken by the War Magic Wizard’s mechanics. Its abjurative and power-siphoning abilities felt like they matched perfectly as an extension of Githzerai psionics. 

And that was that. A Githzerai wizard who, disillusioned with the current strategy of the rest of his people, broke away to join a renegade faction and work to end the Gith civil war and wipe out the Mind Flayers. He takes up bounty hunting as a way to pass the time, make money, and keep his skills sharp until word reaches him of more Illithids to vanquish.

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Erebus Moirae (he/they): Elf (Shadar-Kai)/Blood Hunter (Profane Soul) 

Background: Acolyte 

Personality Trait: I see omens in every event and action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen.

Personality Trait: I’ve spent so long in the temple that I have little practical experience dealing with people in the outside world.

Ideal: The ancient traditions of worship and sacrifice must be preserved and upheld. 

Bond: I will do anything to protect the temple where I served. 

Flaw: I am inflexible in my thinking.

As a Shadar-Kai, Erebus’ whole life revolved around the Raven Queen. Their whole existence was dedicated to her service in the Shadowfell. Though that service could take many forms, some of their most far-reaching duties were acting as either one of the Queen’s memory collectors or interceding on her behalf. It was missions such as these, those that required travel to the Prime Material Plane, that Erebus longed for most. Though, longing may be a strong word. After all, whilst in the Shadowfell it was difficult to desire, or even feel, much of anything at all. But when their Majesty’s work carried them from the Plane of Shadow, Erebus could feel themselves begin to come alive once more; mind, body, and soul. 

Erebus reveled in every sensation there was to be found while on a mission, from the delights of pleasurable company, delicious food, or beautiful views, to even the agonies of combat, spicy food, or tattoos (a personal favorite). Any event, whether painful or pleasurable, was a deviation from the monotonous, colorless, norm that he came from and, thus, were all held in equal regard. The Prime Material Plane certainly had no shortage of pains to offer, doubly so when Erebus employed his particular brand of magical combat, one which makes use of his sacrificial body to help ensure that his Majesty’s will was done. 

Erebus would often find themselves being the one dispatched to the Prime Material Plane when their Queen determined that something of great importance was on the horizon, and she wished to have a more . . . firsthand look at the events to be. While Erebus never failed to carry out their missions, they did still make sure to carve out a few personal traditions of their own. One of their favorites was to reward each of their successful missions with a tattoo, commemorating the event. The pain of receiving the tattoo would make an appropriate send-off before returning home, and, though particular colors may fade, the ink would make a permanent reminder of their exploits, even after delivering their memories to their Majesty. Perhaps their next mission would be soon? 

I don't think it’s any secret that both the Shadar Kai and the Raven Queen have had a number of iterations of the editions. While I’m not certain if it’s the most current version of her, I really loved the idea of the Raven Queen as this ethereal being comprised of memories and the Shadar Kai as her memory collectors. That was the general impetus for Erebus; making him D&D’s equivalent to Uatu the Watcher. 

While I think it works the best for a campaign that has a necromancer/lich as the BBEG (stopping those who wish to cheat death more easily justifies why you’re actively participating, not just passively watching), it does make a convenient way to get Erebus involved in almost any D&D campaign. Nearly every adventure or module ends with some climactic final battle that would, no doubt, make for a very entertaining memory for your Matron. 

I felt that Blood Hunter was an interesting choice for this character given that, in certain lore, when a Shadar Kai dies, they just return to the Shadowfell. As such, death likely has little meaning to them, so a class that damages the user as well as the enemy is probably even less of a deal breaker for them than it would be for most other player races. Given the Shadar Kai’s servitude to the Raven Queen, Profane Soul seemed the obvious subclass choice. However, deciding which Profane Soul to be (the rare sub -subclass) was slightly more difficult. I would go Undying for the best mix of thematically appropriate (even though the Raven Queen is supposed to be opposed to undeath, her servants are functionally immortal) and useful (Hexblade would also work thematically, I just wasn’t as impressed by the perks). 

All that being said, it might still be a good idea to incentivize not dying, regardless of lore. Maybe, it’s too difficult to keep sending you out over and over again for the same mission, or respawning in the Shadowfell resets you back to level 1 and it would take too long to train you back up to the party’s level before you missed the big event you were supposed to observe. Sure, death might not be the end for you, but still try to avoid it in any case. You’re out there for a reason, after all. 

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Ghiraulad (he/they): Kalashtar/Monk (Astral Self)

Kalashtar Quirks: You prefer to find nonviolent solutions to problems whenever possible.

Background: Hermit

Life of Seclusion: I was searching for spiritual enlightenment.

Personality Trait: I feel tremendous empathy for all who suffer.

Personality Trait: I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings.

Ideal: Emotions must not cloud our sense of what is right and true, or our logical thinking.

Bond: Nothing is more important to me than the other members of my hermitage, order, or association.

Flaw: I harbor dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation and meditation failed to quell.

People are often a study of contradictions. That much was true of Ghiraulad as well, though this may not be so much his fault, as it was their fault. For you see, Ghiraulad’s body was not his own, or rather, it was not his alone. As a kalashtar, from the moment of his birth Ghira’s body was shared with another, a quori spirit he came to know as Ulad, and their union was far from harmonious. Most days, Ghira was content to live and let live, he understood the need for others to enact violence on occasion, but he himself had no stomach for it. Ulad, it seemed, did not feel the same. As repulsed as he was by violence, Ghira constantly felt a conflict within whenever fighting arose, an urge to fight that pulled against his urge to run. Conferring with the other monks of his temple, it was determined that the Quori spirit that Ghira shared his body with must be a warrior, driven to battle.

As Ghira and Ulad were inseparable, regardless of either’s desires for the contrary, they would need to learn to cooperate. Luckily, they discovered a special technique, long thought lost, that may provide them with the compromise they sought. Originally meant to allow one to manifest a perfected “inner” self, the art of the Astral Self could allow Ghiraulad to operate with relative freedom, Ghira would be able to follow his pursuits and, should danger arise, Ulad would be free to fight whatsoever battles he desires without Ghira necessarily needing to be involved. However, to learn, and master, this technique would require training that their monastery was, unfortunately, unequipped to provide. Ghiraulad’s best training, it seemed, would be experience, and so they set out into the greater world to begin their journey of discovery.

From the moment I first came upon the Kalashtar as a player race, I was immediately very interested. Something about the two people, one body idea struck me as such a unique dynamic that I don’t think we’ve seen outside of, perhaps, the aasimar. And the fact that the human and the quori don’t necessarily meet eye-to-eye gives some interesting potential for some built-in character conflict. This, naturally, was the direction I went. A warrior spirit having to share space with a pacifist. Exactly how pacifistic Ghira is will certainly be something that you’ll want to discuss at length with your DM and the rest of your group in Session Zero. I don’t think they’ll appreciate you surprising them with a character who deliberately isn’t pulling their weight in combat until they hit LV 3.

So, assuming you’ve got the green light from all involved, the softer touch could be an interesting experiment in the early levels. Perhaps you try to actively avoid causing any harm yourself, and only use the Help Action to set your allies up for success? Maybe you just try to avoid killing or causing grievous injury, using your fists instead of more damaging weapons, and trying for nonlethal damage? Whatever you choose, I think the key will be making sure LV 3 feels different once the Arms of the Astral Self come into play. While Ghira is gentler and more reluctant to cause harm, Ulad (acting through the Arms) is more visceral and vicious, showing the clear division between Ghira and Ulad.

This, of course, raises the obvious question, however. Are they truly divided? A kalashtar is meant to be two fused into one. Has the Astral Self allowed Ghiraulad to separate Ghira from Ulad? Is it really Ulad acting through the manifested arms, or is Ghira subconsciously acting on desires he has yet to reconcile within himself? The multitude of ways this question can be answered was really the core of this idea when I first came up with them, and something I’d be very interested in seeing others explore.

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Janus Kubera (he/him): Elf (Wood)/Rogue (Scout) 

Background: Criminal 

Specialty: Smuggler 

Personality Trait: I don't pay attention to the risks in a situation. Never tell me the odds.

Personality Trait: The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything valuable - or where such things could be hidden.

Ideal: I’m loyal to my friends, not to any ideals, and everyone else can take a trip down the Styx for all I care. 

Bond: My ill-gotten gains go to support my family. 

Flaw: I have a “tell” that reveals when I’m lying. 

Janus and the rest of his Wood Elf kin lived peacefully in the ancient forests, in homes built into the very trees, as they had for centuries. They passed their days living off the land and occasionally interacting with the other cities and villages in and around their forest home. All of that changed when a massive forest fire forced Janus and his people to flee their ancestral home. The Wood Elves were scattered, forced to take up residence in any town or village that would house them. Unfortunately, the isolationist lifestyle of the elves left many who encountered them with a rather unfavorable impression of the elves. So it was that when those same elves came to them as refugees, many felt a silent satisfaction at seeing the “haughty elves” brought low. The derelict elves had to work to earn their keep in their new home, but many delighted in denying them access to more prominent positions, forcing them into menial work and hard labor for minimal pay. 

Some elves found that they could ply their knowledge of the wilderness and find work escorting caravans and other travelers to or from their destinations safely. Though, even then, the work was dangerous, and the pay was not much better than before. Life was not easy for the displaced Wood Elves, but they got by. Janus Kubera, however, did not simply want to “get by”. He wanted his parents and siblings to be able to thrive as they once had, and so was constantly on the lookout for whatever job might pay the most, regardless of difficulty. When a band of gentlemen asked Janus for assistance getting their cargo through the forests, Janus thought nothing of it. When the men repeatedly asked him to take more obscure, dangerous, and less traveled routes, Janus began to suspect that what these men were transporting was illegal. When they arrived at their destination, only to meet up with gruff looking individuals who opened the crates they had been transporting and began offloading a number of dangerous looking substances, Janus was certain that it was illegal. When the man who hired him approached Janus, with a cruel looking blade in one hand and the largest sack of coins Janus had ever seen in the other, and asked Janus if there was a problem, Janus found that he didn’t mind. 

Though he had to keep the nature of his work a secret from his family, to spare them the shame and/or worry of his new career, he felt that the money he was making as a smuggler far outweighed the risks. Which is not to say that there were no risks. In committing to this path Janus was forced to accept certain, uncomfortable truths about life as a criminal. He learned to always keep his weapon to hand, after one client tried to settle their business with a knife to his back rather than the pay he had been promised. He also learned to adopt an assumed name, Plutus St. Chris, when working, to prevent his work from following him home. Despite this, Janus remains committed to helping his family in any way that he can, always sending half of his earnings back to his family, and always keeping a weather eye out for his next, best, job. 

While I don’t recall exactly what got this particular ball rolling, I do remember (at some point in the creative process) noticing the thematic similarities between the nature-themed Wood Elf and the nature-themed Scout Rogue and IMMEDIATELY wanting to make something out of it. I didn’t really have any specific ideas until I started looking at backgrounds. Starting with the Criminal background (yeah, it’s cliche, but I figured it was as good a place to start as any), I noticed the Bond about your money going to support your family and everything pretty much flowed from there. 

The idea of having a family that you are supporting from afar raises some interesting story ideas for me. Is your family suspicious of how much money you’re bringing in? Do they realize you’ve been getting involved in criminal activity? If so, what do they think about it? Has the money you’ve been sending actually helped them? Has it been getting intercepted by those who took your family in? If so, how long until you discover it? Do you want to make a point of checking on your family regularly, or do you worry that that might lure criminal elements to your home? The ideas just go on and on, and my favorite thing about games like D&D is that every campaign can go a different way with it, making it so that even if multiple people play the same character, they’ll all experience a different game. 

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Kalo (genderfluid): Verdan/Sorcerer (Aberrant Mind)

Background: Inheritor

Inheritance: A living graft of what you believe to be the World Tree

Personality Trait: I get bored easily. When am I going to get on with my destiny?

Personality Trait: I judge people by their actions, not their words.

Ideal: There’s no good in pretending to be something I’m not.

Bond: I have a family, but I have no idea where they are. One day, I hope to see them again.

Flaw: I’m convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure.

The Verdan are natural nomads, committed to walking the face of the planet and seeing all there is to see. Still though, as with any group, ideology, or people, there are always those who take things to extremes. Kalo . . . was not this person. They were, however, quite close with their pibling, Rubarm , a Verdan dead set on being the first of their kind to explore whole new frontiers. To that end, Rubarm revealed to their young nibling their prized possession; a small potted sapling which Rubarm swore up and down was a clipping from the World Tree itself. When planted and allowed to grow, they said, the sapling turned tree would become a veritable doorway to other realms and planes, opening a multitude of new avenues of exploration for the Verdan race! 

Unfortunately, so the legend went, the clipping would not be able to properly mature unless it was planted in just the right place, a location plentiful in both space and magic, where the sapling could properly take root, expand, and be suitably empowered to have the realm traveling capabilities Rubarm sought. This was no easy feat, and many of Rubarm’s travels with their nibling were spent trying to find this perfect plot. Now, one might be justified in wondering why Rubarm saw fit to bring a small child, such as Kalo, on such a potentially dangerous journey? It was because their nibling was no ordinary Verdan. While all Verdan were changed and altered by the strange power of That-Which-Endures, Kalo proved to be even stranger than most, with more advanced telepathic powers than nearly any other of their kin and even burgeoning magical powers, Rubarm saw in young Kalo the perfect candidate to inherit this noble task, should Rubarm themselves not live to see their work completed. 

This precaution would prove to be tragically well-founded when a hungry owlbear would leave Kalo with nothing but a potted sapling and their pibling’s aspirations. Greif-stricken, but resolute, Kalo set off once more. Knowing that the road ahead would be too dangerous to travel alone, they set out in search of traveling companions, ones as powerful as they were trustworthy, to help them achieve their destiny. 

(Before and after the LV 5 growth spurt)

Coming to you live from Acquisitions Incorporated, it’s the Verdan! A race of what were once goblins until some eldritch chaos god randomly decided to turn them into something new. They have telepathy (kinda), they have a healing factor (kinda), and they straight up change their size category at LV 5, they’re just . . . cool [take notes, Githzerai]. That being said, this was a surprisingly difficult backstory to iron out. 

As far as the character build, there isn’t too much to say. The Verdan’s lore made Aberrant Mind an obvious choice (I suppose the Great Old One Warlock could also work thematically, but . . . meh). I think I chose the Inheritor background, more or less, on a whim because I wanted to try something different, but it actually helped bring the whole thing together. The thing that I struggled with the most was deciding on a goal. Kalo might be wandering around and getting into adventurer-appropriate shenanigans because their a Verdan and that’s . . . just, kinda what they do . . . but I usually like for my characters to have a more specific goal in mind when they’re starting out. To that end I really tried leaning into the Inheritor angle to see what trinkets I could find that I could sink my teeth into, creatively. After pouring over what must have been hundreds of trinkets, I finally found some real potential in “A living graft of what you believe to be the World Tree” (Also from Acquisitions Incorporated, ironically enough), and the rest is history. 

Going into Session One Kalo is a little quasi-goblinoid doddering around with a little Charlie Brown Christmas tree on a quest to find the perfect place to plant it. Where do you end up planting it? Do you leave it to grow on it’s own, or does it miraculously sprout into a full-grown tree and open a whole new avenue for your campaign? Is it even a real World Tree clipping? All that and more if you make this character yours.

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Keet (he/him): Aarakocra/Ranger (Horizon Walker) 

Background: Gate Warden 

Gate Warden Trinket: A ring made from a chain link that, once worn, won’t come off without pulling painfully hard  

Feature: Scion of the Outer Planes (Chaotic) 

Personality Trait: I have a superstitious habit I picked up, such as touching iron when I’m nervous or arranging objects in a specific order.

Personality Trait: I speak with an unusual cadence.

Ideal:  

Bond:  

Flaw:  

Born amongst his Prattle in the trees, Keet’s early life was fairly quiet. He was taught to hunt by his father and joined with his brethren in hunting the local wildlife to feed his people. Life was often calm; living so high in the treetops, there was very little to threaten them. Which was why it came as such a shock when, out of the blue, a raiding party of Gnolls, with aid from a similarly marauding band of Orcs suddenly ascended upon them. The ravagers chopped at their trees to drive them from their nests, only to pull them from the sky with nets and bolas. Though many tried to fight back, the gnolls’ savagery was unrelenting and the aarakocra who fought the hardest only ended up eaten alive for their efforts. Only a few of the Prattle had managed to escape, and many were slaughtered on the spot, but Keet was not among either of those lucky few. Instead, he was one of the many captured and dragged away from his home by the war band. After a day’s travel, the raiding party came to a cave (evidently their base of operations) and dragged their prisoners inside, laying them upon a strange circle around which the gnolls and cultists chanted in a language Keet could not understand. Whatever they were saying, it caused the circle they were in to glow. At this, the captives redoubled their efforts to escape; Keet was no different. Where Keet was different, however, was in that, as power built within the circle, Keet also felt something build within him. Then, at the moment of the ritual’s completion, Keet felt an eruption of power both within and around him. 

Keet wasn’t sure what happened, but in that moment, he felt a distinct sense of separation from his kin, as though they had gone one direction, and he another. This sense would prove well founded when he emerged, alone, in the middle of a different arcane circle with numerous sallow-looking individuals standing guard around it on a platform overlooking a whirling chaos that challenged his mind to understand it. Keet was swiftly captured (again) and questioned about his intentions and how he had gotten to Shra’kt’lor. Keet explained the events of the last few days as best he could, and the Githzerai (as he would soon learn that they were) relented, sympathetic to the plight of one enslaved by another. With their aid, Keet was able to begin making sense of what had happened, learning that he was in the capital city of Shra’kt’lor, drifting through Limbo. He learned of his apparent connection to the planes which had allowed him to steer himself off the teleportation’s intended course. Perhaps most significantly, he learned how to harness some fragment of the chaos around him as the Githzerai did to empower himself and weave the faintest bit of magic. With all he had learned he negotiated a return to the Prime Material Plane so that he might begin revenging himself upon the gnolls and searching for a way to rescue his displaced family. 

Some character backstories came together remarkably quickly. Some, like Keet, seemed to fight me every step of the way. Aarakocra lore is fairly minimal, not offering much in the way of story hooks or inspiration (in my opinion, anyway). Rangers, as a class, similarly don’t offer a strong direction, too busy trying to be three other classes at once. I wanted to make Aarakocra Ranger happen, but I’d just had so much trouble finding anything to work with until Planescape came out and got me thinking about the other planes. 

From there, inch-by-inch, I managed to work it out: Other planes? The Abyss? Demon Lords? Hmmm, which one? Yeenoghu’s pretty active . . . served by Gnolls . . . send people to him as an offering in exchange for power. Things that aren’t Gnolls get turned into Gnolls. Things that already were Gnolls get turned into stronger Gnolls. Okay. So, they attack the Aarakocra because their numbers are low, and they need more Gnolls. But . . . wait, if the Gnoll numbers are too low, how would they launch an attack? Do Gnolls work with others . . .? 

And on and on like that. Usually, once I find the right angle, the story flows fairly smoothly. But with Keet, every step seemed to introduce some new logistical problem for me to solve to make sure everything “made sense”. Even now, I still look back on this and think “Does that make sense?” “Does that make sense?” “Do the Orcs make sense? I’m sure I read somewhere that they work together sometimes”. 

At this point, for my own sanity, I have to just step back and say, “I’m done”. Whether it “makes sense” or not, I’m close enough that I don’t think it matters. Should I, or any of you, actually get a chance to play him, we can just work with our DMs to make any necessary adjustments and tweak the story as needed to fit the campaign. I don’t think I’m getting anywhere else on my own. 

Anyway, frustrations and overthinking aside, I’m still happy with how this came out. I think it works well for campaigns like Out of the Abyss or Descent into Avernus (the story shouldn’t be too difficult to rework into something more devilish, as opposed to demonic). But what do you think? Critiques? Criticisms? Advice? Interest in giving him a whirl? Let me know. 

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Korazora Amanodel (she/her): Elf (Eladrin)/Bard (Glamour) 

Autumn  

Personality Trait: If someone is in need, you never withhold aid. 

Flaw: You trust others without a second thought. 

Winter  

Personality Trait: You preserve what you have. Better to be hungry today and have food for tomorrow. 

Flaw: Nothing matters to you, and you allow others to guide your actions. 

Spring  

Personality Trait: You love music and songs. You supply a tune yourself if no one else can. 

Flaw: You over drink.  

Summer  

Personality Trait: You stand tall and strong so that others can lean on you. 

Flaw: You are stubborn. Let others change.

Background: Far traveler 

Reason: Wanderer 

Personality Trait: I have different assumptions from those around me concerning personal space, blithely invading others’ space in innocence, or reacting to ignorant invasion of my own.

Personality Trait:  I have my own ideas about what is and is not food, and I find the eating habits of those around me fascinating, confusing, or revolting.

Ideal: I’m far from home, and everything is strange and wonderful! 

Bond: I’m fascinated by the beauty and wonder of this new land. 

Flaw: I have a weakness for the new intoxicants and other pleasures of this land.

A child of the Fey, Korazora, or just Kora to her friends, grew up wild and free. Her days were spent frolicking through the forests with her friends and instruments, filling the breeze with her laughter and melodies. In fact, Kora was fairly well known for her tendency towards the tuneful as she could scarcely be found without her trusty pan flute, viola, lyre, or any other myriad of musical instruments both official and improvised just to fill the silence with rhythm and melody. 

One day, whilst on one of her usual wanders, she fell into such a reverie composing a new tune that she stopped paying attention to where she was wandering and ended up traveling much farther than she ever had before. She didn’t snap out of her fugue until she was nearly struck by a passing wagon, at which point she began to examine her new surroundings. The trees weren’t their usual kaleidoscope of colors, instead nearly all of them were a uniform green. The sky was blue, and the world seemed flatter, duller, filled with less of the sheer life she was used to. Not a fan of how empty this place felt, Korazora tried to retrace her steps back home, but try as she might, everywhere she went only brought her to more unfamiliar places. 

Quickly realizing that this wasn’t going to work, Kora, instead, decided to venture into the nearby village and see if anyone there could help her. Everything soon became clear as she discovered she was no longer in the Fey, but the Material Plane! During her meanderings she must have passed through a portal, or some other connective point, between the realms. Nearly invisible, it would be almost impossible to find it again, and that was assuming it was one of the permanent ones. It looked like she was stuck. Oh well! As she pondered what to do next, she began to fiddle on her viola, and to her amazement, what she created was more than music, it was magic! Such vivacious energy filled the air that, for a moment at least, it felt as if she had brought some of the Feywild to this drab place. 

Her astonishment still fresh in her mind, her course was set. She would find her way back home, eventually. In the meantime, she would explore all this “Material Plane” had to offer and see if she couldn’t spread a little of her homeland wherever she went. 

Spring/Summer

Fall/Winter

Much like Kalo a few weeks ago, I think the thing I struggled with most was trying to figure out what, exactly, Kora is doing in the wider world. And, in a departure from my norm, I decided . . . she’s not doing anything! She’s trying to get home, sure, just . . . the long way ‘round. In the meantime, she’s just . . . sightseeing, I guess. 

I think what kept me coming back to this character more than anything else was that I’d been struck by a fun idea while making her, that I’d hope to be able to try if I ever got the chance. Namely, having her subclass change depending on her Eladrin Season. I’d envisioned Spring and Glamour as being Kora’s default, a Season befitting an excitable wanderer looking to see what secrets the world has to offer, and an apropos College given both it and the Eladrin are described as having an especially strong connection to the Feywild. Definitely my pick if I had to choose just one subclass. 

But . . . if your DM is willing to try something a little different. I’d say College of Spirits for the dreary and ominous Winter, Swords or Valor for the fiery and fight-y Summer, and for the peaceable Fall . . . ehhh, Lore? Relaxing with a good book after a rough fight? Maybe Eloquence? A Silver Tongue to go with the charming Misty Step? Then again, Glamour’s all about charming people . . . But then what would Spring be? Creation? Because everything’s growing? 

The possibilities are numerous, and that’s just for Bards! So, yeah. Less of an exploration of my thought process and more of a thought experiment about a neat House Rule idea. I think it would require a fair bit of trust towards the player not to abuse it, but I think it could add some fun dimensions to playing the character. Abilities and mechanics locked behind a sort of mental block made manifest by the Season. IDK, let me know what you think.

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Korrick Drozan (he/him): Centaur/Fighter (Rune Knight) 

Background: Giant Foundling 

Origin: Your farm was crushed and your family killed in a battle between warring groups of giants. Racked with guilt over the destruction, a sympathetic giant soldier promised to take care of you. 

Personality Trait: Crowded spaces make me uncomfortable. I’d much rather be in an open field than a bustling tavern.

Personality Trait:  What I lack in stature, I make up for with sheer spite.

Ideal:  

Bond:  

Flaw:  

As a young centaur, Korrick Drozan wanted for little. His tribe had settled much of the forest surrounding the nearby mountain and harvested it of its fruits, nuts, and wildlife as much as was sustainable. In fact, it might shock some to see just how much they made sure to gather, as their tribe was not especially large. Yet, they prepared heaps of smoked meats, produced barrels of fruity wines and meads, and otherwise gathered as much of whatever food they could find. They did this, not only to feed their own mouths, but also to offer tribute to the family of cloud giants who had made their home in the stronghold at the peak of the mountain, and whose mere presence kept their woods safe by deterring more dangerous beasts and monsters from settling in their lands. For many years, life was idyllic for the centaurs. And then, it came . . .  

A dragon. Red of scale and powerful enough to not see the giants as a sufficient threat. Rather, it saw the cloud giants’ infamous wealth as easy pickings and attacked without warning in the dead of night. Swiftly and terribly, the dragon laid siege to the unsuspecting giants. Korrick awoke to a terrible sound, a thunderous boom emanating from the mountain’s peak, followed by a deep rumbling, initially mistaken for an earthquake. The centaurs of the mountain base wouldn’t realize the danger hurtling toward them until the cloud giant patriarch’s body crashed into their settlement. 

Thrown from his clifftop home, the giant Gyllir , as well as the landslide triggered by his expulsion, crushed and killed nearly every centaur at the mountain’s base. The giant roused, only to see a stunned Korrick gazing up at him and realize that he was laying upon what must have been the crushed remains of the boy’s home, and likely its inhabitants. As they both turned their gaze to the mountaintop, now bathed in an infernal red like a volcano about to erupt, it was clear that they had both lost everything and needed to flee before the dragon turned its attention to the surrounding area. So, they fled. The journey was tense and awkward, as Gyllir was technically the one who killed Korrick’s family, Korrick was gradually able to accept and recognize the dragon as the true culprit and see himself and Gyllir as victims together. Korrick journeyed with Gyllir to the mountain keep of Gyllir’s cousins, who were more than happy to welcome the pair once they heard about what happened. There, they mourned, recovered, planned, and prepared. 

With the giants’ aid, Korrick was taught to fight, as well as the basics of runecasting. He poured himself into his studies, driven to learn all he could in hopes of, one day, avenging himself and his family upon the draconic invader. So dedicated was he to honing his new craft that Korrick didn’t even notice how long it had been at first. However, nearly a year had passed and, while Korrick had heard many discussions regarding Gyllir and his kin gathering the clan and mounting a counterattack to reclaim his fortress, he had seen little to nothing done to further that goal. Finally, when Korrick could bear it no longer, he confronted his new guardian and demanded to know when he could expect to join the assault on the dragon. Gyllir reassured Korrick, telling him that the forming of the clan was underway, and that they would be ready to strike in as little as a few decades, fifty years at the very most. 

Korrick was despondent. FIFTY years? Korrick had hoped that Gyllir would respond to the destruction of his home and the death of his family with more haste. But, perhaps, to a giant, this was haste. Perhaps Korrick would not live to see his own revenge enacted. No. Korrick was grateful for everything that Gyllir and the others had done for him, offering their home and knowledge, they had truly been like a second family to him. But on this occasion, their differences were simply too irreconcilable. Korrick needed to enact his revenge. The dragon had to pay. If the giants could not help him, then he would need to find those that could. And so, with a heavy heart, Korrick had no choice but to bid his new family goodbye and set out into the world once more. Alone.

Hoo boy, this guy went on a journey. The biggest thorn in my side, initially, was that I’d really wanted to lean into the fact that Centaur PCs are Fey. So, I wanted to tie his backstory to the Feywild. But I kept running into questions I couldn’t find easy answers to. Was he a Fighter before leaving the Feywild or after? If before, why? What kind of fighters emerge in the Feywild, maybe a warrior for one of the Fey Courts? If that’s so, then why is he in the Prime Material Plane? Is he on a mission that took him to the Prime Material Plane, or was he on a mission and wound up in the Prime Material Plane accidentally? What was the mission? How time-sensitive is it? If you wound up in the Prime Material Plane accidentally, how desperately are you trying to get back (time passage can sometimes get weird travelling between Planes)? 

Just . . . an endless series of rabbit holes, each with question after question. And the contrary to those ideas all raised their own questions, so I ended up burying myself pretty quickly. If you’re fresh off my previous chapter, you may realize that “Fey native gets lost and ends up in the Prime Material Plane” sounds a bit familiar. So did I. So, for a long while, I . . . paired their backstories up. They were friends who were out exploring together when they got lost. Kora leaned into the Bardic arts to support Korrick, and Korrick mastered the ways of the Fighter to protect himself and Kora. As a narrative, it worked well. The pessimist and the optimist, the martial and the support, the offense and the defense. The two, as they existed in my mind, had an interesting dynamic together. 

However, I’m sure I don’t have to explain that, while this might have been an excellent idea for writing characters for a fantasy story, it was a terrible idea for writing PCs for a D&D campaign and left both of them virtually unusable. So, they sat in development limbo for months, if not years, until Bigby Presents: Glory of the Giants saved the day with its Giant Foundling background. From there I was able to leave focus away from the Fey aspect of the centaur and shift focus on the Giant aspect of the Rune Knight. From there, things flowed fairly smoothly. Some research into Giant lore, some nipping of the Centaur’s nomadic lifestyle from their lore (both for convenience and my own sanity), and . . . that was it. A Centaur with Giant magic and a quest to vanquish a dragon. Take it at whatever pace you like, it will probably still be faster than whatever the Giants were planning (I like to imagine that nigh-immortal beings probably like to take things at a much more leisurely pace than us mere mortals). 

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Amzy Shriver (he/him): Tabaxi/Wizard (Necromancy) 

Background: Witherbloom Student 

Witherbloom Trinket: A pair of thick, knee-high waders, stained with muck and moss. 

Personality Trait: Everything in this world dies eventually. The question is, what will you do with the time you have left? 

Personality Trait: I know we just met, but when you die, may I have your bones? For research. 

Ideal:  

Bond:  

Flaw:  

The youngest in a litter of 7, Amzy Shriver was used to noise. The sounds of rambunctious roughhousing accompanied by their mother’s chastisement filled nearly every moment of every room in their home. All this despite the fact that Amzy was often far too ill to roughhouse himself. Amzy was the youngest, smallest, and the most sickly of all the Shriver siblings (the runt, his siblings would call him when they were feeling less than charitable) and, as such, was never able to be as active as his littermates. Instead, Amzy turned his attention to his studies, honing his mind. 

Despite the degree of separation he had from them, Amzy still loved all of his siblings very much, and when the Draft came to their home calling the Shriver siblings to serve in the ongoing war, Amzy wanted nothing more than to join his siblings and stand by their side in battle. Unfortunately, Amzy’s frail form meant that he was rejected from service. Instead, Amzy was sent off to academy to hone his impressive mind. As weeks and months passed, letter after letter would arrive to inform the Shrivers that their, now quiet, home would remain quiet. From the youngest to the oldest, by and by until only Amzy remained: the last Shriver child. Amzy was heartbroken to hear about the fates of his siblings. He felt guilty to realize that he, of all people, had outlived them. And he had turned apathetic to the goings on of the war, while, simultaneously, furious with the governments and leaders who continued engaging in them; condemning their citizens to die over, all too often, paltry matters. Wasn’t there a better solution? 

This question ate at Amzy and, in pondering solutions, his studies into the arcane soon turned dark. A better solution. One in which people didn’t need to die. An entire battalion could be captured. Wiped out. A thousand casualties. But no one could be killed . . . if they were already dead. Necromancy . 

If leaders were truly set on solving their disputes with violence, then, surely, there could be a way to go about it that was less costly to those leaders’ citizens. One which utilized an enormous stockpile of untapped resources. Resources which were, quite literally, not doing anything else. There could be a way, and Amzy left his schooling to prove it. It wouldn’t bring his family back, but if it could end the senseless bloodshed, and spare others the loss he endured, then it would be worth it. 

Weirdly enough, I credit You Might Be A DND for this. Something about his Necromancer video gave me some spark of inspiration that made me just want to make a necromancer. I don’t know if I ever grasped that initial spark, but I am pretty happy with what I ended up with. A little bit of Saving Private Ryan, a little bit of that airplane scene from Sherlock “A Scandal in Belgravia”, and just a smidge of The Emperor’s New Groove for flavor, and voila! The good necromancer, fighting his battles with the already dead so that no one on his will have to suffer new losses. 

I don’t usually get into spell selection in these, but I think an absolute must have here is the Mold Earth cantrip. Once the undead start coming online, check out the graveyards in every town you come to, and use Mold Earth to excavate only the most overgrown and forgotten graves so you can be certain that no one will miss the skeletons you conscript. Raise your fallen enemies so that they may enact penance fighting for you, or even raise your fallen allies so that they can have a chance to finish the fight from beyond the grave. Though, given that the Witherbloom Student background gives this Wizard access to Revivify, I’m thinking that zombifying your friends should only be a last resort. 

If you’re feeling particularly brave, you could even try playing this character on Hard Mode and play his “sickly” nature straight by dumping his Con. Try to raise your undead army whilst knowing that an especially stiff breeze could knock you over. 

Either way, I think the roleplay potential is quite interesting. Above table, obviously, if others in your party are playing Clerics, Paladins, Druids, or anything else that might have a strong anti-undead lean, make sure to discuss this with them ahead of time, this is what Session Zeroes are for (although, you have to admit, a Necromancy Wizard, a Death Cleric, an Oathbreaker Paladin, and a Spores Druid would make for a pretty metal party). Within the world, what might the other party members think of your magic and your mission? What might Amzy’s parents think of their last surviving child dropping out of school to run off and become some sort of necromantic revolutionary? Are you even the last Shriver sibling, or were reports of one or more of your siblings’ demises greatly exaggerated? And what might they think of your new direction in life? 

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Lorem Vergilius (she/her): Elf (High)/Wizard (Order of Scribes)

Background: Archaeologist

Signature Item: Hat

Personality Trait: I love a good puzzle or mystery.

Personality Trait: I’m happier in a dusty old tomb than I am in the centers of civilization.

Ideal: Nothing is more exhilarating than a narrow escape from the jaws of death.

Bond: I have a friendly rival. Only one of us can be the best, and I aim to prove it’s me.

Flaw: I can’t leave a room without searching it for secret doors.

If there were two things that Lorem Vergilius loved, they would be history and magic. If there was a third, it would likely be the history of magic. Raised since she was knee-high on stories of ancient civilizations, of the archmages who rose to prominence in them (who wielded magics so great that the goddess of magic, Mystra, had to step in herself to limit mankind’s magical potential), and, of course, of the dashing archaeologists who unearthed those civilizations centuries later, Lorem had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Over the course of her lengthy elvish life, she poured over every history book, devoured every new anthropological study as it was published, and devoted herself to learning everything there was to know about every spell there was. 

Though her intense study left her underdeveloped socially, her acumen could not be denied and one day earned her a place on an archaeological dig exploring a Netherese ruin. Here, Lorem got her first real opportunity to put her magic to the test, aiding in excavations and fending off some of the more dangerous wildlife that called the ruins home. It was also in those ruins that Lorem found her first spell scroll, an ancient, long forgotten, incantation from a time of unparalleled magical prowess. Though neither she, nor any of the mages who had accompanied the dig were powerful enough to make use of the scroll, Lorem, nonetheless, knew she had found her calling; exploring the world’s secrets, and learning every spell she could find. 

A bit of a shorter one this week, but while the character backstory is short and sweet, the character creation backstory is anything but. 

Lorem’s story begins back when the Onomancy Wizard was the hot new Unearthed Arcana (and it’s a shame that they were never able to create a working version of it because I lived for the concept). Back then, she intended to be a sort of spoiled aristocrat with the Noble background (heck, back then, her name wasn’t even Lorem, it was just some pre-generated first and last name I got from the Player’s Handbook; Althaea Holistacia). A fun quirk I’d come up with was that, in an effort to keep her true name from shifting accidentally, she would always introduce herself by a different name from a list of random first and last names. Keeping her real name hidden, but not letting any alias stick long enough for her to be defined by it. 

In a rare twist, I actually got a chance to play this character in a high-level one-shot. The experience . . . left a lot to be desired. For one, I was playing alongside a diva min-maxer with Main Character Syndrome who continually undermined anyone’s contributions to the game that weren’t his own and made crude comments toward my character. For another, the Onomancy subclass . . . kinda sucked. Not gonna lie. If your enemy succeeds the initial saving throw to learn their “true” name, then you don’t really have a subclass, which isn’t great. And to add insult to injury, following that experience, Onomancy officially got dropped as a potential new subclass. All in all, not great. 

So, Althaea mostly sat on the backburner from then on, until I could think of something to do with her. That moment came when I learned about the term “Lorem Ipsum” and (as I am wont to do anytime I come across a neat word or phrase) immediately wanted to make a D&D character with that as their name. Given that Lorem Ipsum is a sort of language, I wanted to do something with writing and, since the Scribes Wizard had come out in the interim, I saw an opportunity to take Althaea and . . . well, completely gut the concept and retool it from the ground up. No longer a name-obsessed noble who might sneer at the idea of roughing it in the woods, she became a spell -obsessed scholar who’s comfortable with any environment so long as she finds what she’s looking for. 

As for what she’s looking for. I don’t think that it’s any secret that the Order of Scribes, more than most Wizards, need a surplus of spells to really reach their full potential, and that means spell scrolls and spellbooks a plenty. There are some spells that can ease the burden, however. Chromatic Orb, Dragon’s Breath, and Glyph of Warding, to name a few, offer Scribes Wizards a bevy of damage types all wrapped up in a single spell. However, the Archaeologist background gave me an idea for the DM to intentionally make some of those spells more difficult to find than others. Perhaps not all spells can be freely added to a spellbook upon leveling up? Perhaps some of the more powerful spells with the rarer damage types are actually quite rare in your world? It could make for a fun, ongoing, quest to be constantly tracking down the “long-forgotten” spells that will help you fill out your arsenal of damage types. 

Or just make your BBEG a cabal of evil wizards with very steal-able spellbooks. Either/or. 

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Mani Aegir (he/they): Elf (Pallid)/Monk (Drunken Master)

Background: Gladiator

Personality Trait: Whenever I come to a new place, I collect local rumors and spread gossip.

Personality Trait: I love a good insult, even one directed at me.

Ideal: I like seeing the smiles on people’s faces when I perform. That’s all that matters.

Bond: I would do anything for the other members of my old troupe.

Flaw: I have trouble keeping my true feelings hidden. My sharp tongue lands me in trouble.

A curious sort by nature, Mani was among many of his kin to venture out and explore the new world beyond his home. Armed with little more than a crook and some cartographer’s tools, Mani originally intended to make maps and charts of the places he visited to bring back to his friends and family. However, he quickly fell in love with many of the modern comforts he discovered. Particularly, taverns. From the ale, to the wenches, to the drunken tavern brawls, Mani felt as though he had found a calling, and his charts and records began to take on a narrower, more inebriant, focus.

When one of their tavern brawls found them trading blows with performers from a traveling circus that had been passing through, Mani wound up surprised by the skill, slipperiness, and savvy of their opponents. The performers were likewise impressed by their spirit and enthusiasm and asked them if they might not be interested in joining their troupe. Far too inebriated to have properly thought the decision through, Mani accepted. Setting their mission aside briefly, Mani spent many months among the circus, learning not just to fight, but to fight for show, making battle a spectacle with which to entertain the masses.

During his time as a circus performer, Mani was forced to sober up and, while this was initially a terrifying prospect for him, it ended up working more in his favor than he could have predicted. With his head no longer swimming in alcohol, Mani was able to hone his instincts as an actor before an audience and found a sort of thrill in playing drunk to lower others’ expectations of him. All while keeping his keen mind intact to better size people up through the veneer of drunkenness. Mani found he could even work his false inebriation into his combat, making grand spectacles in the center ring while stage fighting with his partners.

Eventually, Mani found it was time to return to their original mission, though, between the months of tavern crawling and the months of circus performing, they found their original mission would have to change. Bidding the troupe farewell, Mani returned to wandering the land with a new goal in mind. Seeing how much enjoyment and gaiety there was to be found in this new world, they resolved to make sure that all of their kin back home would be able to find it as well. To that end, they committed to, begrudgingly, tone down the drinking, and start to work on their magnum opus: a book detailing all the most fun, exciting, and/or interesting places in the world! And, using their training from the circus, perhaps making that world a little safer to navigate along the way.

Just another entry into the classic fantasy mythos. Knights, Sorcerers, travel guide authors, you know, pretty standard stuff. From map maker, to map maker (but only maps leading to the fun places), to circus performer, to tavern crawl travel guide writer, I think what Mani most exemplifies is that I really wanted to make a Drunken Master Monk, and I really wanted to use the new (at the time) Pallid Elf, and I was going to make the combination work, no matter how convoluted the story got.

He’s a Pallid Elf who’s out and about. What’s he doing? Well . . . Monks get a free tool proficiency sooooo, Cartographer’s Tools! That works. He’s an explorer, he’s a mapmaker, charting out new locations. Why is he a Monk? Self-defense? Fantasy worlds are generally pretty dangerous, and the Pallid Grove specifically sounds like it became a pretty dangerous place to live. Drunken Master and Gladiator seem like they’d go hand in hand, both being described as more performative combatants. And the above background is basically just trying to reconcile the first two with the last two.

I like the idea of constantly pretending to be sloshed while almost always being stone-cold sober. Buy drinks at every tavern you come across but take such big swigs that most of it runs down your front. You’ll avoid getting too drunk, you’ll look like you’re too drunk to drink properly, and you’ll even smell like a drunken skunk. For an extra length, see if your DM would be willing to give you something like the Flask of Perpetual Booze except fill it with endless water. No one will question your slurred words if you’re always taking pulls from that.

Someone like Mani can be a great pick for political intrigue/subterfuge-style campaigns with high Dex, Stealth, and Invisibility once a day after LV 5 (though be prepared to make your case for why Performance is more appropriate to the situation than Deception), or pick up The Seeker’s Guide to Twisted Taverns and just forget that whole “pretending” bit and go out drinking with your friends.

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Miguel Stagbolt (he/him): Human (Variant)/Warlock (Fiend) 

Background: Noble 

Personality Trait: My eloquent flattery makes everyone I talk to feel like the most wonderful and important person in the world. 

Personality Trait: I take great pains to always look my best and follow the latest fashions. 

Ideal: I must prove that I can handle myself without the coddling of my family. 

Bond: The common folk must see me as a hero of the people. 

Flaw: I hide a truly scandalous secret that could ruin my family forever.

The Stagbolt family was nobility. Courtly, charming, and, most importantly, brilliant. Every member of the Stagbolt line was trained in the finest arts. Not just in the dramatic or musical, but in the arcane as well. So famous were they for their talents that before any Stagbolt could be truly thought of as an adult and be granted their independence, they would first have to perform The Rendition , a public performance in which the fledgling Stagbolt would demonstrate their proficiency in magic. The current Stagbolt patriarch was one Vaalyor Stagbolt , a proud Elven mage and exemplary specimen of the Stagbolt lineage. He had also come under some controversy for his decision to take the human woman, Isabel, as his wife, with many believing her to have been of lower station. But marry her he did, and through their union they produced many heirs. While most were plainly half-elven, a rare few so strongly resembled their father as to be considered fully elven. And every one proved a magical prodigy worthy of the Stagbolt name. All until Miguel. 

Miguel Stagbolt was born with many eyes upon him. While all his siblings appeared half-elven or more, Miguel himself seemed almost entirely human. Despite him possessing his father’s distinctive purple eyes, he had no ability to see in the dark and seemed to lack his siblings’ natural resistance to certain magical effects. All of this called aspersions upon himself and his mother, calling into question his breeding, his qualifications, his legitimacy! And that was without either the public or the other royal houses knowing Miguel deepest secret, one known only to his family and his tutors: Miguel possessed no magical ability. Indeed, despite years of private lessons and countless hours of personal practice Miguel had never once managed to harness the Weave. A Stagbolt without magic. It was unthinkable. The shame that would follow if it were to get out . . . 

Sadly, it seemed that it would, for Miguel’s Rendition was fast approaching. Desperate to avoid banishment for his failure and to preserve the honor of his family name, Miguel did something drastic. While Miguel had never been able to perform magic, that wasn’t to say he wasn’t well read on the theory. After all, his tutors were the best money could buy, and his libraries were vast. So vast were they, that one could find information on nearly any topic, from the most basic mystic fundamentals to the most advanced magical theory. Most of interest to Miguel, however, were the rumors of an ancient tome on contacting the other planes. Contacting the powerful beings who reside in the other planes. Powerful beings who might be able to bestow some of their power upon a hopeless, yet desperate, novice. Miguel worked tirelessly to set up the ritual, performing, perhaps, his first and only act of true, arcane, magic. In the end, his ambitious plan caught the attention of the Lady of the Forth, Fierna. Delighted by the prospect of a noble, and potential ruler, being beholden to her, Fierna granted Miguel his wish. Miguel awoke the next day filled with a power he’d never known before and immediately set out to test its limits. As it turned out . . . it wasn’t much. BUT! It would be enough for The Rendition . So, Miguel spent the last days leading up to The Rendition not only practicing with his new powers, but also convincing his tutors and family that his newfound magical prowess was the result of a sudden epiphany and not the result of dark dealings with a queen of the Hells. 

The Rendition came and went, and Miguel thanked his lucky stars when he earned his independence as it gave him leave to . . . leave. Far from the scrutinizing eyes of those who knew him and, he feared, still weren’t convinced that his gifts were entirely natural. Miguel garbed himself in his wizardly chic (a humorous gift from his tutors), readied his wand (a heartfelt gift from his mother), packed up his new, mysterious, tome (a foreboding gift from his new patron), and set out. To do what? He wasn’t sure, but his success at his Rendition wasn’t free. In order to keep his power, and his secret, he would be doing Fierna’s bidding, and Fierna felt that such a drive to succeed as to bring Miguel to strike a bargain with her should be rewarded . . . and encouraged. So long as he was in her service, Miguel would have to accrue more successes, gain more power, more prestige, and more influence. In essence, the more powerful he became, the more powerful he would become, Fierna would ensure it. 

For once, I think the story of this one’s creation is actually pretty straightforward. The whole concept hinges on the Pact of the Tome pact boon. The boon and its invocations making you into such an ersatz Wizard it got me to thinking, “What if that was the entire idea?”. A wannabe Wizard who didn’t make the cut, so they cut a deal to be able to make a play of it anyway. Honestly, the biggest “change” that happened during development was making him a high-born noble as opposed to some magic school dropout. That being said, the failing student/dropout angle might not be such a bad idea if you’re playing something like a Strixhaven campaign. 

I think the hardest part was picking which Archdevil to make his Patron: 

• Asmodeus, the patron of “obsession and power”, seemed like the classic pick, if a bit boring. 
• Mephistopheles is known as the Wizard of the Archdevils and the “patron of magic and the source of many Warlock pacts”, but he seems like he’d be more interested in the magic valedictorian than he would be the magic dropout. 
• Baalzebul, the “dual patron of sly charm supported by brutal power”, could be a good fit. However, he is cursed to have all of his deals end in disaster which I, personally, find a bit hilarious; it does mean that he’s not the best choice, though. Still an option, at least. 
• Glasya does have connections to “corrupt royalty . . . those who wanted power that was both absolute and legitimate”, and she’s forced to help mortals make the most fair deals possible (also hilarious to me), but she also has a very “fight the power” vibe that I don’t think quite works here. Definitely a solid backup option, though. 
• Levistus is the patron of the “traitorous and vengeful”. So, that doesn’t seem like a good fit. 
• Mammon is the patron of the “greedy and lustful”. No. 

• Dispater is the patron of “war and intrigue”. Not really what we’re looking for. 
• And Zariel is all about warfare and fighting. Not a good pick this time, but we’ll see her again. 

Out of all of the Archdevils, Fierna (and Belial) seemed like the best fit, favoring those with more “personal” ambitions as opposed to grander concepts. 

One thing I really like about this is the idea of trying to hide your Warlock-ness from the other players (though not the DM, obviously). Introduce your character at Session Zero as a Wizard and see how long it takes for the other players to put the pieces together, take the spells that are available to both Warlocks and Wizards, take the spells that are available to both Warlocks and Wizards, perhaps even (gasp) put off learning Eldritch Blast. Good thing you’ve got great Charisma as a Warlock. Actually, speaking of stats, I envision this character as having an Intelligence of 12 or lower, so low that you can’t ever achieve genuine Wizard status (though Magic Initiate could give you some Wizardly utility spells that don’t rely on INT, such as Dancing Lights, Mage Hand, and the idiot-proof Magic Missile that literally can’t miss). Though, if you want to give him a level or two as a treat, I can’t won’t stop you. That being said, a few INT skill proficiencies would certainly help you look the part (History from your background, Arcana from your class); he’s well read on the subject, he just . . . can’t actually do it. 

Speaking of not being able to do magic, that brings me to a few things that I’m still not quite sure about with this backstory. First is his player race, a Human born of a Human and an Elf. Not entirely sure the Punnett square checks out on that one. If you think it doesn’t, then there’s certainly nothing stopping you from choosing Half-Elf or Custom Lineage (if you don’t want to give up that sweet, sweet 1st level feat), or hey! Maybe those questions surrounding his true parentage are actually legitimate? 

Second, is the plot hole I alluded to in the summary. The guy with no magic performs magic to gain audience with a higher being who then gives him magic. In my head I’d imagined this as some enormous ritual that he’d spent hours, days, or even weeks painstakingly assembling (a far cry from the typical Casting Time + 10 minutes of a normal, proper, Wizard), but, with the benefit of hindsight, maybe she just . . . came to him in a dream, or something. Simple and non-contradictory. 

Chapter Text

Nemo Starfeller (he/him): Leonin/Blood Hunter (Lycan)  

Leonin and the Gods: The meddling of the gods in mortal affairs makes me angry and bitter. I wish they would just leave us all alone!  

Background: Athlete  

Favored event: Pankration (mixed unarmed combat)  

Personality Trait: I feel most at peace during physical exertion, be it exercise or battle.  

Personality Trait: Obstacles exist to be overcome.  

Ideal: The strongest bonds are forged through struggle.  

Bond: I will overcome a rival and prove myself their better.  

Flaw: I’ll do absolutely anything to win.  

Competition was the name of the game in Nemo’s Pride . Every facet of life amongst his people revolved around one attempting to outdo another. From the cooks to the craftsmen, there was never a single practitioner of any discipline. This to ensure one would always be driven to hone their skills against a rival. Nowhere was this more apparent than with those who made up the defensive force of the Pride . The guardsmen of the Pride generally fell into two camps: those who relied on skill, technique, and weaponry (the Irahal ), and those who relied on strength, toughness, and savagery (the Saltas ). The Irahal believed that true combat mastery came from discipline and technique, honing their skills over many hours becoming masters with any weapon or armor, mastering several martial arts, and fighting with incredible swiftness and versatility in combat. By comparison, the Saltas took a significantly less scholarly approach to battle. They believed that the greatest warriors did not require such crutches as weapons or armor and instead trained their bodies for strength and endurance, leaning into the gifts that all leonin were already born with, like their claws and teeth, and driving themselves into a bestial fury to overwhelm their enemies.  

Despite the Irahal and the Saltas’ squabbles and rivalry all was well, until one day, a strange man came leading a group of strangers. The man and his troupe came before the Pride , claiming that he had something to offer. However, before he would elaborate, the man issued a challenge: the Pride’s greatest fighters vs. his own. Never ones to back down from a challenge the Pride’s leaders accepted. The stranger’s troupe met in battle with members of both the Saltas and the Irahal , and the battle was epic. The Saltas were amazed by the troupe’s ability to take on bestial forms and fight with untold savagery, as well as their strange, innate, elemental magic that the strangers used to great effect to overwhelm even the Saltas’ legendary defenses. The Irahal were amazed by the troupe’s skill, seeing the intelligence and strategy in the eyes of their opponents, as well as the strange magics they wielded, never before seen by the Pride . Impressed by the stranger’s warriors, the Pride heard out the man’s offer to teach the Pride’s warriors their secrets, though he warned that the path to becoming a warrior like those he led was dangerous, and that there was a chance that not all would survive. So it was that a volunteer selection of the Pride’s novice fighters was chosen to become the first of their newest martial guild, the Lagene .  

Through a number of trials, which culminated in the imbibing of a strange and rancid alchemical concoction that forever changed those who survived its consumption, the neophytes tempered their bodies. In addition, they were taught the strange man’s strange magic, learning powerful curses meant to weaken their opponents or strengthen themselves for a short time, as well as how to imbue their weapons with elemental power. The training culminated in a ritual that infused the Lagene with what they were told was a powerful and ferocious lion spirit. Once the bonding was successful, the Lagene were taught how to harness and, most importantly, control the lion’s power, being warned that a failure to do so would result in the lion’s power controlling them , a fact of their training the Lagene swore themselves to secrecy about. Their formal training completed, the Lagene were sent out into the field and immediately proved themselves more than equal to their peers.  

Hunters, trackers, soldiers, the Lagene proved capable at nearly any role and, while some were initially put off by the mortality seemingly inherent in the training process, all began warming to the newest addition to their society, which was when the problems arose. To stay competitive, one must always be innovating and improving. To this end, as the Lagene continued to grow in prominence, the other protectors of the Pride began trying to pioneer their own developments in power. Some pursued this avenue through attempted mimicry of the Lagene’s magic, to mixed results. For members of the Irahal , this worked out well as some of their order began discovering and incorporating the arcane arts into their combat styles, giving them a limited arsenal of magical firepower. The Saltas , however, struggled with magic. In the rare instances where one of their order was capable of using it in battle, the effects they produced were often proved wild and unpredictable, making it difficult to utilize in the chaos of combat.  

Beyond innovation through mimicry, however, there were those who attempted a more direct approach. For perhaps the first time in the Pride’s history, members of one guild sought to combine their vocation with that of another. While not forbidden by any means, practitioners combining their practices was generally discouraged so as to maintain competition amongst fields. The Irahal were the first to broach combining their disciplines with the Lagene , and while their skills integrated well, many were, again, put off by the seemingly inescapable fact that not all who underwent the process of becoming a Lagene survived. Though this reawakened some old misgivings toward the Lagene , the final nail came when the Saltas (feeling that they were being left behind and desperate for an edge) also sought to join their techniques with those of the Lagene and sent a number of their order to join the newest batch of Lagene recruits, alongside one fresh-faced, but determined, novice, Nemo Starfeller. Not being as academically minded as their peers, the Saltas struggled to learn the magical techniques possessed by the Lagene , but the true calamity came when it came time for the initiates to be imbued with the lion’s power. The training the Saltas were given to control the lion’s power ran totally counter to their entire battle philosophy of giving in to rage and aggression, and when the newly minted recruits from the Saltas were deployed into their first true battle, this contradiction had disastrous consequences.  

 Wounded from battle and driven to a frenzied rage, the lion-infused Saltas found they were unable to differentiate friend from foe, instead attacking all they saw and inflicting heavy losses on their own side, forcing a retreat. While peace was eventually restored to the situation, the Pride were in uproar over the Saltas’ failure. The Saltas , seeking to maintain some shreds of their dwindling reputation and relevance, instead placed the blame on the Lagene and their training, exposing their secret vulnerability. This, alongside enflaming the Pride’s discomfort towards the inherent dangers of joining the Lagene , actually succeeded in turning the public against the Lagene . When closer inspection of the Lagene’s “lion’s power” was revealed to, in truth, be werelion lycanthropy, the Lagene were ousted from the Pride , believed to be a corrupting influence inflicted upon them by the strangers.  

So it was that Nemo (who had sided with his new order against the Saltas ), his Lagene brothers, and the strangers who had brought their teaching to the pride, found themselves outcast from their Pride , but Nemo would not be disgraced so easily. He had seen the Saltas amidst their training and knew that their narrow-mindedness and unwillingness to adapt was the true culprit. To Nemo, the failure of the Saltas was something easily predictable, and the Lagene were being punished for the Saltas’ jealousy and refusal to see their own weakness. It was the Saltas , not the Lagene , who had deserved to be ousted, and Nemo would prove it. With his mind made up, Nemo set out to prove the Pride , and particularly the Saltas , wrong. He would prove that the Lagene could stand just as tall as anyone and that they were worthy competitors in the race to the top.

I was bitten by the writing bug for this one. I do believe this is the longest backstory that I have ever written. And for all that . . . I don’t think that I’ll have much to say about it. It doesn’t really have any sort of particular inciting inspiration. Mythic Odysseys of Theros had just come out and I thought that the Leonin were rad as hell, so I wanted to make one.  

Honestly, besides the fact that I nearly forgot whether I’d named him Nemo or Nero and had to spend a long time remembering which one it was and why, I don’t have much to say about the man himself at all. Where I really got lost in the weeds was in developing the society he comes from. Majoring in Economics means an in-depth knowledge of business models, the dangers of monopolies, the benefits of competition, etc., so I wanted to explore the idea of an entire civilization with competition as it’s backbone. Nothing stands alone, everyone must be constantly trying to outdo the other, no one is allowed to rest on their laurels. That developed into the Irahal (Fighters) and the Saltas (Barbarians). Taken to more mundane extremes, the Fighters might specialize into Champions or Battle Masters, while the Barbarians might specialize into Berserkers or Beasts (if I had to pick one, it would probably be the latter for each).  

But what happens when you introduce something new into the mix; Lycan Blood Hunters and, to a further degree, magic? Well, give a Fighter magic and you’d probably get an Eldritch Knight. Not the King of Gish that it once was, but still a solid option (admittedly there are quite a few “magical” Fighters, Eldritch Knight just seemed like the obvious choice). As for Barbarian . . . while there are plenty of vaguely mystical Barbarian subclasses, the one that seemed the most overtly magical, and that I chose for the story (obviously), was the Wild Magic Barbarian. I’m not going to say that it’s bad, just that the fandom seems far more split on it compared to its contemporary magical martials (I’ve never actually played one myself, so I offer no personal commentary). Combine that with the interaction between Barbarian Rage and Lycan Bloodlust and a desperation not to be left in the dust and the rest of the story, more or less, wrote itself.

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Nike Natastra (she/her): Aasimar (Scourge)/Paladin (Devotion)

Background: Mercenary Veteran

Personality Trait: I’ve lost too many friends, and I’m slow to make new ones.

Personality Trait: I face problems head-on. A simple, direct solution is the best path to success.

Ideal: I do what I must and obey just authority.

Bond: I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Flaw: I obey the law, even if the law causes misery.

Ever since she was a child, Nike Natastra had always suffered a terrible affliction. From splitting migraines in her head to burning in her joints, her days were filled with pain. Her nights less so, as the pain diminished once the sun had gone down, but it was never until she was buried under the covers of her bed, with her face pressed into her pillow, that the pain truly felt smothered. Life was difficult, suffering through her schooling, barely able to focus. No treatment seemed to work, and her parents began to wonder if it wasn’t simply their daughter wanting to avoid work. Those suspicions were soon shown to be misguided as Nike grew older and her pain worsened, eventually manifesting as light emanating from her eyes and mouth, scorching the skin surrounding them. Now thoroughly encouraged to take Nike’s problem seriously and listen to her assessments of her condition, the family quickly picked up on Nike’s description of smothering the pain. Working off that, they arrived upon a solution: a mask. A form fitting mask, combined with dense, baggy clothing and gloves served to suitably insulate Nike and keep her strange pain suppressed.

While this marked a significant step forward for Nike, it also came with a new problem: strange dreams. Periodically, during the nights following Nike’s pain suppression discovery, she would dream of visions and a mysterious voice. At first, the dreams were rare, but they gradually grew in frequency and, with it, so did the clarity of the voice. It seemed that the voice was calling her to something, but to what she wasn’t sure at first. Until one day, many years after the strange visions had started, when her village was assailed by monsters. The beasts, creatures of shadow that struck only at night, threatened to overwhelm them. So, the village, lacking an organized militant force strong enough to repel the threat on its own, pooled its financial resources and contracted a company of Everwatch Knights from the Church of Helm to protect them.

The contingent arrived, night fell, and the Knights did battle against the shadows. While all seemed to be going well at first, it seemed that the creatures were beginning to overwhelm the Knights. At that moment, Nike heard the voice from her dreams once again, calling to her, calling her to action! Even though she wasn’t sure how she knew, she knew what she needed to do. So, she bolted from her home, and charged into the fray where the Everwatch Knights were engaged with their shadowy foes. Bracing herself mentally and ignoring the calls of the Knights for her to return to her home, Nike removed her mask, allowed the pain to well up within her, and allowed the light to erupt from her form. While her divine incandescence wounded the shades, it served more to frighten and disorient them, allowing the Everwatch Knights to rally, and regain the upper hand, securing their victory and vanquishing the shadows.

Exhausted by her demonstration, Nike was carried home by one of the Knights who explained what had happened to her horrified parents. It was then that Nike took the opportunity to explain the dreams she had been having, and the voice she had been hearing. Sensing her potential, the Helmite offered to take Nike in, to train her in their ways, and help her realize the destiny the gods clearly had in mind for her. Though uncertain, and conflicted, Nike’s parents ultimately agreed and gave their blessing. And so, Nike began the next chapter of her life with the Church of Helm, learning to harness the agonizing light she had once thought her bane, and answering the call to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

So . . . I have mixed feelings about Mordenkainen’s Aasimar vs. Volo’s Aasimar. The damage nerf is considerable, though, likely, more balanced. I just wish WOTC wasn’t so afraid of drawbacks in their player race designs. Stat negatives for the Orc and the Kobold? Gone. Sunlight Sensitivity? Gone from all but the Drow. Even the Scourge Aasimar’s Radiant Consumption has gone on something of a diet since it no longer affects the user. I’m not really that broken up about it, but I did think it helped the Scourge Aasimar stand out from the other two subraces (and was clearly something I really latched onto when writing this backstory). Then again, some of my favorite classes are Blood Hunters and Evocation Wizards with their Overchannel feature, so maybe I just have a thing for self-sacrificial, My-Body-as-a-Shield, playstyles.

Originally, I had NO idea what I wanted this character to be. Oh, mechanically and synergistically it was all very straightforward. Aasimar are touched by divinity (and who got a big bonus to Charisma), Paladins are (typically) holy warriors, Oath of Devotion Paladins doubly so. So far, so standard. The problem came from trying to turn this Class/Race combo into a character . Giving her a personality and all that. I was very split on which of two directions I wanted to go.

On the one hand, Scourge Aasimar are described as overflowing with divine energy, so my first thought was to make her a bit more . . . hyperactive. Chaotic. Ready to charge full tilt, morning star flailing, toward whatever evil thing happened to cross their path. Like a child who found all the dangerous things their parents told them not to play with. While I’m sure a character like that has their place at the right table, the idea of being the one to play that impulsive little agent of chaos was incredibly . . . daunting. Myself, personally, I’m not a very chaotic person, so I had a hard time envisioning myself playing the very character I was creating. So, I decided to see what other directions I could take this character, roleplay-wise.

Option 2: focusing on the “mask” part of the Scourge Aasimar’s lore. Keeping all their power bottled up until the time comes to let it out. In my mind that also translated into a strong, silent, type; much more up my alley.

For a while, that was as far as I’d gotten, until the time came that I’d wanted to hammer out a formal backstory for her. Eventually, I hit upon the idea of making Radiant Consumption into a sort of chronic condition for which her mask, and the rest of her outfit, serve as a kind of therapeutic compression wear, but it wasn’t until I was doing an unrelated deep dive on Helm’s lore that the final pieces started to fit together. A guardian. A protector. Throw in the Interception or Protection fighting styles and you’ve got a stoic sentinel vanquishing the wicked and shielding the innocent for no other reason than it’s what her god would do.

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Nip (he/him): Shifter (Longtooth)/Barbarian (Totem Warrior)

Background: Outlander

Origin: Tribal marauder

Personality Trait: I once ran twenty-five miles without stopping to warn my clan of an approaching orc horde. I’d do it again if I had to.

Personality Trait: I was, in fact, raised by wolves.

Ideal: I must earn glory in battle, for myself and my clan.

Bond: I am the last of my tribe, and it is up to me to ensure their names enter legend.

Flaw: Violence is my answer to almost any challenge.

Born and raised amongst his tribe, the Sinac Garou , Nip had lived his life in the harsh mountains, knowing only the importance of strength and community. The strongest alone could go far, but the strongest together could never be stopped. Nip and his people trained to be toughest in the land, tough enough to resist the sting of the cold, the bite of the beast, and the cut of a weapon. Tough enough to endure any hardship. They farmed what they could, hunted what they couldn’t, and made reluctant excursions down the mountain to the nearby settlements for the rare supplies they truly could not produce themselves. 

So it was, as Nip was on his way back from one of these journeys, a mighty blizzard began to ravage the trail. Nearly home, Nip and his companions decided to press through and find shelter from the storm in their homes, when, up ahead, the group heard a mighty bellow and the din of battle. Dropping their supplies and raising their weapons, Nip and his comrades raced to confront whatever was assaulting their village. Nearly blind in the whiteout, the group could barely see where they were going, but, in time, saw the looming shadow of a massive beast assailing their home. No sooner had Nip glimpsed his enemy than it had, evidentially, glimpsed him as well, and one of its massive, clawed, hands swiped at Nip, colliding with him and sending him hurtling off the nearby cliff. 

Nip awoke bruised and battered, but alive, atop a heap of fresh snow at the bottom of the ravine. Where it had been night when he fell, the sun now shown in his eyes. Nip dragged himself back up the mountain only to find his home in ruins, his people scattered and slain throughout the carnage and the creature long gone. He was alone. 

This injustice could not stand, would not stand ! He would find the monster that had done this to his people and deliver it death in return. But it was clear enough, he could not do it alone. He would need information, he would need friends, and, most importantly, he would need to be stronger. And so, he marched back down the mountain, his heart resolved. On the hunt. 

Nip standard (left) and shifted (right)

And with that this series officially has one of every kind of Player Class! 

Like I said in the summary, I decided to just keep it simple with this one. No sense reinventing the wheel, trying to see how convoluted I can make journey to arrive at “good person who does good things because it’s good”. I think I basically just read the Bond listed above in the Outlander Background and thought to myself, “That. I want to make That a character”.

Fun Fact: If you take the original Longtooth Shifter from Wayfinder’s Guide to Eberron, give them the Outlander Background and make them a Barbarian, you’ll have proficiency in all 6 of the Barbarian’s possible skill proficiencies. So that’s neat. It’s also the reason that he’s a Longtooth Shifter Barbarian with the Outlander Background 😅. Now that the updated versions have scuttled that little coincidence, I feel far less beholden to Longtooth specifically. Not that it’s a bad option, just that I now see that any Shifter has skills that are very beneficial to a Barbarian. From Beasthide making you even tanky-er (doubly so with Rage letting you stretch those temporary Hit Points even further), to Longtooth giving you an extra bite attack, to Swiftstride helping you close the distance, and Wildhunt letting you Reckless Attack with impunity.

And speaking of not feeling beholden to the original idea anymore, I think the reason I wanted to go with Totem Warrior was because it was . . . the best? Certainly, when I was still very new to the hobby, Totem Warrior seemed to be most people’s preferred pick when it came to the Barbarian (like what the Battle Master is to the Fighter or what the Hexblade is to the Warlock). Now that I’ve had time to better familiarize myself with the game, I could easily see subclasses like Ancestral Guardian or Beast working incredibly well thematically as well. Heck, for all that, you could even go something like Vengeance Paladin if you wanted to be a different kind of “angry guy who hits stuff”.

Perhaps that’s simply the result of keeping things simple. A simple tool has a great many uses, but the more complex you get, the more niche the implementation becomes.

Pivoting, somewhat, to the inciting incident. Unlike a character we’ll be seeing further down the line, I never really had a clear vision of what it was that attacked Nip’s tribe, only that it was massive. Giants and dragons are probably the easiest fodder for something like this, but I’d encourage you to get weird with it. Pick something oddball like . . . a Nightwalker, or . . . a Krasis! Have fun with it.

As a last note: Regarding the name. In writing this section I’ve been re-reviewing my sources for lore/mechanics etc. I’d always understood that, according to lore, Shifters tended to use two names: a “personal” name (included above) that they use with friends and family, and a “wandering” name that they use with strangers. I’d always liked the idea that the ferocious Barbarian’s “personal” name was secretly something very meek and unassuming, like “Nip”, but his “wandering” name would be something suitably imposing, like “Rend” or “Rive”. However, I’ve recently begun to wonder if I haven’t misunderstood the assignment as, near as far as I can tell, it’s just the “wandering” name that’s supposed to be a single word, whereas the “personal” name is something more conventional. I realize it doesn’t have to matter all that much if I don’t want it to, but I’m curious what you think. Any of you out there that are big into the lore like I am, what’s your take on Shifter naming conventions? How would you name a Shifter character based on the methods outlined in the Eberron books?

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Nyx Mummer (they/them): Changeling/Sorcerer (Shadow)

Quirk: Your heart beats once per minute. This event sometimes surprises you.

Background: Haunted One

Harrowing Event: You were born under a dark star. You can feel it watching you, coldly and distantly. Sometimes it beckons you in the dead of night.

Personality Trait: I don’t talk about the thing that torments me. I’d rather not burden others with my curse.

Personality Trait: I put no trust in divine beings.

Ideal: I kill monsters to make the world a safer place, and to exercise my own demons.

Bond: There’s evil in me, I can feel it. It must never be set free.

Flaw: I feel no compassion for the dead. They’re the lucky ones.

In the village of Timir , legends tell of the dark star, Despoina , and the terrible influence it holds over the town. Once every generation, the dark star selects an emissary to carry out its will, endowing them with dark powers, and a terrifying visage. For those who attempted to resist Despoina’s influence, and use its power for good, there were stories of those who had found some success. These select few became well renowned for their noble deeds, or for sacrificing their lives in pursuit of those noble deeds. Few made it far in this direction however, either because they were cut down by the dangers of the world before they could make any great impact, or because their commitment was lacking.  

Indeed, it was more common for those chosen by Despoina to succumb to its influence, underestimating the dedication required to stay ahead of its corruption and keep its growing power under their control. The history books were full of tales of despotic rules and mad mages, touched by the dark star, who brought ruin and threatened calamity until they were vanquished.  

Some might see this as a challenge, wishing that they had been picked so that they might prove their worth and conquer the star’s power. Some might see it as a terrible burden, feeling nothing but sympathy for the poor soul, cursed by the star’s corruption. Nyx Mummer . . . saw it as a tremendous pain in the ass. A young changeling who would love nothing more than a quiet life of obscurity, their hopes were dashed the moment they were born. Even despite the traditionally featureless form of a changeling, Despoina’s influence was readily apparent, “gifting” them with sunken features that were obvious even from birth, as well as a near imperceptible heartbeat. So it was that Nyx’s life was set on a destiny they never wanted; receiving teachings, training, and equipment so that they might set out on a quest that they would give their right arm not to have to go on. Unfortunately, their friends and family weren’t able to offer much more than platitudes like “just fake it ‘til you make it”, and when Despoina’s power began to manifest, Nyx was sent on their way.  

Despising everything about their present circumstances, but unable to really do anything about them, Nyx resolved to do what they could to foil the dark star’s will, even adopting a form far more bombastic and optimistic than they ever felt. “Faking it until they made it” they supposed. Perhaps “Sir Ringlorn” will manage to buck the average and become one of those fabled heroes of the realm.  

I am aware of the conventional wisdom that warns against creating adventurers who don’t want to adventure (after all, if they only want to stay at home, then why aren’t they?). So, I hope that by including a sort of ticking clock/consequence for inaction, it might give the character a sound motivation for joining the party on quest after quest (even if they might not always be the most upbeat of travelling companions).  

When I initially created this character, I wasn’t really thinking of much more than “how long could it take for the party discover that ‘Sir Ringlorn the dashing hero’ is actually just ‘Nyx the grouchy Changeling’” and “how might I be able to imply that there is more to the character than just how they are presented?”. It wasn’t until later, following conversations with others about how to appear more approachable and extroverted, that I started to see in Nyx a potential allegory for things like “masking” and pretending to be what others expect. Constantly presenting themselves as a more conventionally heroic individual, one who actually enjoys deliberately walking into dangerous situations.  

I really like the idea of the “dark star” being a constant presence in the campaign. As ever, I’d recommend working with your DM to find a balance that works for you, but I think that pg. 216 of the DMG provides an interesting jumping-off point for a “resisting the dark star’s influence”. My proposal would be to make the save DC dependent on spell slots; perhaps, if you end the day and you still have spell slots left over, you have to make a saving throw based on how many of what kind of level of spell slots you still have left, with the difficulty of the save, the frequency of having to make them, and the consequences for failing them growing more extreme as you level up, showing that as you become more powerful, the “dark star” becomes more capable of acting through you. Essentially, I would think of it like being a weightlifter; Despoina keeps adding weights (higher level spell slots) and you have to keep training with those weights in order to not get crushed by them. Use your most powerful spells to train your body to better contain the magic.  

In my mind, this creates an interesting dilemma of “now, or later?”. If the DC is determined in part by how many spell slots you still have at the end of the day, then that incentivizes you to be very liberal with your magic, doesn’t it? If there’s an incentive to burn your highest-level magic, then surely it would be best to do it right away, right? Check it off your to-do list now before you forget. Surely you won’t be needing it later, will you? Perhaps you simply go nuclear right before bed, expending all your leftover magic right before you go to sleep. That’ll definitely scare off any potential predators or bandits, right? No chance that it could attract even more dangerous enemies during the night when you’d be helpless to defend against them, right? What about Sorcery Points? Just be sure to always keep a stockpile of them to convert into extra spell slots, just in case. Then again, they are very useful in the moment . . . can you really afford to be stingy with them now on the off chance that you might need them later? Food for thought.  

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Ognir Les États (he/him): Dhampir/Bard (Swords)  

Dhampir Hungers: Cerebral Spinal Fluid  

Dhampir Origins: One of your parents was a vampire.  

Background: Hermit  

Life of Seclusion: I needed a quiet place to work on my art, literature, music, or manifesto.  

Personality Trait: I am utterly serene, even in the face of disaster.  

Personality Trait: I’m oblivious to etiquette and social expectations.  

Ideal: My gifts are meant to be shared with all, not used for my own benefit.  

Bond: I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me.  

Flaw: I harbor dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation and meditation failed to quell.  

If there was a single word to describe Ognir Les États, it would likely be “unflappable”. Aloof in the extreme, one would never guess Ognir’s sad and woeful tale merely by looking upon him. Born a feeble and sickly child, Ognir was raised alone by his mother, and only knew of his father that he was “far renowned in the underground”. Most of Ognir’s days were spent bedridden and wasting away, his only comforts were the songs his mother would play to him, as well as try to teach to him on the days he was well enough to practice. As well as an amateur musician in her off hours, Ognir’s mother also fancied herself a culinary innovator, experimenting with all manner of dishes, from frog legs to pig lips. However, it would be her dish of cow brains that would set the rest of Ognir’s life in motion. The smell of it alone, wafting from the kitchen, gave him the strength to stand, the hunger in his belly drew him to the table, and instinct put the food in his mouth. From the moment he swallowed his first bite, Ognir felt a surge of relief wash over him. For the first time that he could remember, it seemed that his perpetual malaise was on the mend.  

His relief would be short lived, however, as it wouldn’t be long before the weakness and frailty began to return. But this time, they had a treatment! It wasn’t long before cow brains became a staple of Ognir’s diet. However, no matter how many cow brains he consumed, no matter how much stronger and healthier he felt, a ravenous pit in his stomach refused to be filled, and the craving only continued to grow the longer it went unsatisfied. In the interim, Ognir spent the next several years enjoying his newfound agency, for the first time able to engage in his own life, able to cook and learn instruments alongside his mother, able to walk about his town, free to see the sights, hear the sounds, and . . . smell the smells. The delectable smells. The appetite whetting scents that seemed to linger in the air every time someone passed him by . . .  

This was a bad sign.  

Now Ognir was certain what this hunger craved, but of course he couldn’t give in to it. But perhaps . . . he could get close? Now that he knew what he was looking for, perhaps he could experiment with finding something that might dull the hunger without forcing him to prey on his neighbors. So it was that Ognir found himself on one of the local farms leading away the furthest cow from the farmer’s sight so that he might slaughter it as quietly as possible and compare its brain to one he’d procured from the market earlier that day. The fresher cerebrum was far and away the more filling meal. Additionally, Ognir found himself compelled to drink the animal’s blood and, in doing so, felt himself augmented for a brief time. However, while his hunger had, perhaps, been dented, it still remained a prominent convexity in his life, like a parched throat that refused to be quenched.  

Desperate for relief, yet just as desperate to maintain his humanity, Ognir spent the next few days with his ear to the ground listening out for any recent deaths amongst the denizens of his town. When news of a local crone’s passing reached his ears, Ognir immediately made his way to the town’s morgue and waited for his time to strike. Once the mortician left for what Ognir assumed was their lunch break he snuck in and set to work, taking up a bone saw and clumsily, yet feverishly, working to open the old woman’s skull and find his prize. So it was that Ognir, needing to know if this would finally bring him the relief he sought, found himself consuming his first brain sourced from a humanoid. It slid down his throat like ice cold water. It had worked! The hunger wasn’t gone entirely, but for the first time that he could remember, Ognir felt it greatly diminish. He had his way out! He would have to be crafty, obviously he couldn’t count on breaking into the morgue as easily as he had this time, surely someone would catch on. It wouldn’t be easy, but if he played his cards carefully then surely, he could -  

Ognir’s machinations were abruptly cut short as he was no longer alone. Perhaps he had misinterpreted the mortician’s earlier departure, perhaps they had simply forgotten something, or perhaps Ognir had been savoring the cerebrum for longer than he had thought. Regardless of the reason, he had been caught and not even his cultivated charm could explain this away, and so, saw still in hand, he made his escape. Ognir knew it wouldn’t take long for word of this to spread or for connections to be made to his mother’s recent purchases from the butcher or to the cow’s carcass which he assumed had long since been discovered in the days following, so he made his way home as quickly as possible. Once there, he packed what he could carry, grabbing supplies, his instruments, and even an old saber he kept for self-defense, and bid his mother a tragically short goodbye, quickly rattling off some reason for his abrupt departure, to this day he couldn’t even remember if it had been the truth or a hasty lie.  

From there he fled into the swamps surrounding his village. For a full day and night, he ran, deeper and deeper into the bayou. He might have been gobbled up by any of the dangers of the river, from gators to swamp creatures to even a rumored loup garou, had he not happened upon a long-abandoned observatory deep in the marsh. There he remained, nestled amongst a cauldron of bats who similarly called the observatory home, and meditated. He meditated, quietly contemplating. He meditated, honing his sword work. He meditated, mastering the instruments he had brought along. He meditated to find himself and become master of his curse, only subsisting on the odd animal caught in his snares, until some sign might come to signal that the time was right to return to the world.  

I'll be honest, I’m not entirely sure about the ending of this one. I just wasn’t sure how else to get him to his status as “exiled hermit”, so I feel like I may have rushed the ending a bit. The Hermit Background in general I’m not sure how to handle. You’ve decided to seclude yourself from society for months, if not years, until . . . you decide to . . . stop being a hermit. Perhaps it’d be best to discuss potential inciting incidents with your DM during Session Zero. Otherwise, I’d have to think you’d need to be pretty patient while you wait for the DM to direct the rest of the party towards stumbling into you out in the wilderness.  

But I digress. As for the actual character creation, it was 2021 (was it really that long ago already? Jesus) and Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft had just come out, bringing us all the Dhampir Lineage. The internet was abuzz, attempting to decipher the Dhampir’s strange bite mechanics and determine what, if any, spells or class features existed that could bolster the Vampiric Bite. Unfortunately, it’s reliance on Constitution, instead of Strength or Dexterity, precluded it from nearly all forms of augmentation. Apart, seemingly, from one: the Swords Bard’s Blade Flourish. You can slash at enemies . . . with your teeth. Yup. If you want something that’s less ridiculous than that sounds, I’d recommend flavoring it as doing that “turn into mist” thing that some vampires do. Maybe outfit yourself with a bunch of mobility/shapeshifting spells to really drive home that your form is fluid.  

Like most things, it would be up to DM interpretation whether or not this exploit would actually work as intended, but the idea is too hilarious for me not to try.   

As for the actual character and backstory, I decided to take inspiration from one of my other great loves, Aurelio Voltaire’s music. Given that this is a musical vampire, and many of Voltaire’s songs focus on bats, vampires, the night, etc. I wanted to see how many songs I could pull from to inform his backstory. Ultimately, I settled on the following, though I highly recommend checking out his discography and mixing and matching for yourself, it was surprisingly fun:  

• Don’t Go By the River 

• Brains! 

• Raised By Bats 

• I Laugh in the Face of Death (a hilariously serendipitous, retroactive, inclusion based on the Personality Trait about being serene, even in the face of disaster) 

• Friends in the Dark 

• Kill the Beast 

• Almost Human 

Even a few that I decided to set aside to inspire a potential vampiric father BBEG down the line:  

• The Night 

• Land of the Dead 

• When You’re Evil 

• The King of Villains / When I Said I Was Evil 

So, all in all, a bat they call Lestat (or Les États if you’re like me and wanted to be a little less on the nose about it) who eats brains, lives amongst bats in the bayou (by the river), and is calm and irreverent even in the face of tragedy (I do wish I could have found a way to incorporate that more into the end of the story but, oh well). Actually, speaking of eating brains, something that I found disappointing about the Dhampir lineage was that it includes a list of Dhampir Hungers that you “crave”, but then provides no incentive one way or the other towards satisfying that craving. No penalty for going hungry, like Locathah or Grung, no bonus for indulging (I mean, that could be your Vampiric Bite, but what? Do you eat dreams with your teeth). Work with your DM to give this bard a new mechanical twist to keep the gameplay fresh. A unique resource to manage, and possibly hide from the rest of the party, if they seem like the squeamish sort.  

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Oriat’mis Polclaus (she/her): Elf (Drow)/Wizard (Bladesinger)

Background: Golgari Agent

Personality Trait: Like roots growing through stone, I am relentless and determined in my action.

Personality Trait: I put my knowledge of anatomy to use by narrating the injuries my enemies suffer in grisly detail.

Ideal: We are all part of nature’s web.

Bond: I have an identical twin who is as different from me as any person could be.

Flaw: I don’t bother to couch my opinions in flattering words.

Oriat’mis’ early life was not unlike many Drow of the Underdark; harsh, strict, and fraught with treachery and paranoia. Like many of her kin, Oriat’mis felt great discontent with her lot in life, but knew better than to voice such opinions. Instead, she focused more on simply getting by with her mother and twin sister, honing her skill with a blade, pouring herself into her studies, and trying not to end up getting stabbed in the back or sacrificed. Life continued in that chaotic routine, until the night it began.  

One night, as Oriat’mis slept, she beheld a strange dream. Instead of her usual dreams of fear, pain, blood, and spiders, she found herself in the middle of a wide field, on the surface, and under a full moon. A sky full of stars twinkled above and a calming song carried on the breeze. It was beautiful. As soon as Oriat’mis awoke, she only wished she could return to that place on the surface. From then on, the dreams were irregular but frequent, and Oriat’mis found her mind drawn to the surface, taking more and more scouting missions through the Underdark to the periphery, hoping to catch a glimpse of the night sky she had seen in her dreams.  

Though Oriat’mis had tried to be subtle in her actions, her behavior had not gone unnoticed by her sister, Ailuvana . Far more ambitious and devoted to Lolth than her sister, Ailuvana had heard and heeded the warnings from the matron mothers of the alluring dangers of the Realm Above. Sensing growing weakness in her sister, Ailuvana accompanied her sister on a scouting mission through the far tunnels and, when the pair were alone, drew her blade and struck down Oriat’mis, stabbing her sister in the back in the name of Lolth before retreating, back to the city.  

Grievously wounded, alone, and near death, Oriat’mis believed that she was at her end. But, as fate would have it, she was found by a Sword Dancer of Eilistraee and brought back from the brink by her healing song. The renegade Drow offered Oriat’mis a chance at freedom; salvation in the Land of the Great Light. Not fully understanding the kindness being shown her, but lacking any other options, Oriat’mis accepted the offer. Fleeing the Underdark, Oriat’mis got her first good look at the surface world, at the trees and flowers, the Sun (bright though it was) and sky, and the Moon and stars. After a day’s journey, Oriat’mis was certain in her decision when the Sword Dancer brought her to the field from her dreams, a common meeting place for the local clergy of Eilistraee.  

Oriat’mis offered herself to the order and began training for her new life. Under the order’s tutelage, Oriat’mis learned forestry, hunting, food preparation and cooking, music, and dance. Additionally, she continued her studies in the arcane from her time in the Underdark and became proficient in wielding arcane magic. Though she lacked the divine connection to Eilistraee of the clergy and could not quite weave magic into song like the spellsingers, Oriat’mis nonetheless devoted herself as a follower of Eilistraee, dedicated to using her skills with both book and blade to help pave the way for the salvation of her Drow kin.  

I give full credit to MrRhexx and his YouTube video “ The Best Goddess in Dungeons and Dragons ” for inspiring this character. The lore and rituals surrounding Eilistraee and her worshipers are fascinating to get into. Obviously, details of this backstory may need to be reworked, or overhauled entirely, if the campaign takes place in a setting where Drow are just another fantasy race, as opposed to something feared or ostracized, but I think the character can still work as a more generalized warrior wizard with a bit of a nature theme to her.

One avenue that I think would be interesting to explore with this character might be the difference between Bladesingers and Sword Dancers. In editions past, Sword Dancers were described as a kind of Cleric, while the Bladesingers are Wizards. Do you feel honored to be following in the footsteps of those who rescued you, or do you feel like a cheap imposter? A worshipper, but lacking Eilistraee’s divine ordinance. And what about your other skills? Followers of Eilistraee are meant to be a little bit of everything, but mostly survivalists and diplomats. Survivalists in order to be self-sufficient and be able to make a home for themselves outside of the Underdark, and diplomats to reassure surface dwellers that you and yours are Drow that can be trusted. Survivalism is easy, between your Class and your Background you can pick up a lot of good skills like Medicine, Nature, and Survival. Diplomacy, however, . . . any investment in Charisma is going to be a big ask for this character, especially for a subclass as MAD as the Bladesinger. I think you’ll either be leaving your Charisma checks in the hands of the dice gods or delegating them to an actual party face and settling for being comforting by association.

If there are any of you versed in the Ravnica Backgrounds who think that the evil-leaning Golgari Agent Background is an odd pick compared to something more good-leaning like the Selensya Initiate Background, that’s fair. Both have a strong nature theme, both can provide you with expanded spell options that give you the potential to play a far more Druidic Wizard than you otherwise would be capable of, and the Selensya Initiate even gives you a Healer’s Kit and Persuasion (though your Proficiency Bonus is still going to be doing a lot of the heavy lifting, but it’s better than nothing) as opposed to a Poisoner’s Kit and Survival. I’ll be honest, I’ve had this character kicking around for long enough that I genuinely don’t remember why I went the direction that I did. Maybe I liked the Survival proficiency more than Persuasion, leaning more into Oriat’mis’ lack of Charisma as a character flaw, creating someone who’s super knowledgeable but not super personable. Maybe the Golgari’s “pure nature” theme seemed more fitting to me than the Selensya’s “nature and society” theme? Maybe the Golgari’s evil lean seemed appropriate for an individual who had been born and raised amongst Lolth’s Drow and who has only recently broken from that culture and is trying to learn to do things differently? Maybe I just thought it was cool?

Who knows?

As for why this character is out adventuring in the first place, the Church of Eilistraee has us covered once again. You might simply be undertaking a ritual known as “The Run” in which Drow followers of Eilistraee journey to new places and share any food, music, and assistance they can offer. One-part humanitarian effort, one-part diplomatic function, it’s meant to give the Drow an opportunity to learn new skills, songs, and recipes, and show the surface dwellers that there are Drow out there that can be trusted. The Wiki calls this a “group ritual”, but this shouldn’t be too hard to hand wave, and should handily explain why this character is in this new place, and why she’s willing to take on dangerous jobs for the benefit of others.

As I mentioned before, the Golgari Agent Background gives you proficiency in the Poisoner’s Kit though, if you feel like that doesn’t quite fit, see if your DM is willing to let you change up the proficiency, or swap out your Drow weapon proficiencies for some tools that are more to your liking (Bladesinging will give you one back anyway). Leatherworker’s Tools to, perhaps, make your own clothes from the animals you hunt or maybe your own leather-bound spellbook, Cook’s Utensils to help you live off the land and provide for yourself and your allies, or possibly an instrument or two to help put the “sing” in “Bladesinger”. As I said, the most devoted of Eilistraee’s followers tend to be Jacks of All Trades. Heck, speaking of Jack of All Trades, if you wanted to trade “knowledgeable” for “personable” you could probably even run this as a Swords Bard instead of Bladesinger Wizard and still get a very similar effect, albeit with more support spells as opposed to straight up combat magic.

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Pallas Galastacia (he/him): Elf (High)/Blood Hunter (Mutant)

Background: Haunted One

Harrowing Event: A monster that slaughtered dozens of innocent people spared your life, and you don’t know why.

Personality Trait: I don’t run from evil. Evil runs from me.

Personality Trait: I live for the thrill of the hunt.

Ideal: I have a dark calling that puts me above the law.

Bond: I would sacrifice my life and my soul to protect the innocent.

Flaw: I have an addiction.

Before he was a gruff, grizzled, and standoffish hunter of monsters, Pallas Galastacia was once a humble carpenter, husband, and father. Pallas lived a quiet life with his family, making furniture, wagons, and even homes for his neighbors and fellow townspeople. He would have been content to spend all his days in peace amidst his sleepy town were it not that fate had other plans.  

One evening, after a day just like any other, Pallas was relaxing in his chair, watching his son and daughter and their friends playing on the floor, when, from outside, a great row arose. The initially quiet streets were suddenly filled with the crunching of wood, the cracking of stone, the screams of citizens, and the shouts of the town guards. Rushing to the door to see what the trouble was, Pallas was met with the sight of a towering beast. A hulking brute, and clearly not of this plane, the creature seemed to be leading a legion of lesser monsters in an assault on his quaint town, killing all that their claws could catch and destroying everything in sight.  

Pallas didn’t have long to take in the scene, however, as shortly after emerging from his home, the monster heading the assault turned to look his way. The moment the creature’s gaze caught his, Pallas’ mind was inundated with intensity and madness, his vision grew dark, and all sense left him.  

He awoke, hours later, on the ground, missing an eye, confronted with the gruesome sight of his family slaughtered before him, and his home in ruins. He had lost everything. No. Not lost. It had been taken from him. At the sight of his wife and children’s mangled corpses, amid the shock, horror, and sorrow, a burning fury ignited in his heart, and he vowed he would have revenge on the monster that took his family from him. At first, his quest for revenge was rather aimless, and mostly consisted of him throwing himself at beasts with whatever weapons he had to hand in a reckless attempt to grow stronger. When this succeeded only in nearly getting him killed, Pallas changed strategies and sought out those who could teach him, those who could grant him the power to claim the revenge he sought. In time, his search would bring him to the Claret Orders, who answered his call with training. With the Order he learned not only how to fight, but also became learned in many of the monsters of the realm, as well as trained in alchemy. Pallas grew fascinated with the ability to alter oneself through alchemy and took to its study with the same dedication he had originally taken as a craftsman. His body and mind trained and his fury tempered with knowledge of what needed to be done, Pallas set out on his quest to gather allies, hone his skills, and avenge his family.

Well, it took us four tries, but I think we’ve hit upon the most stereotypical Blood Hunter I can make. Not that I was necessarily trying to play to stereotypes when I created him, mind you, it was just . . .  how it turned out. Sometimes stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. They work.  

Anyway, getting into it. I don’t think the real meat of this character really started to come together until Tasha’s came out with its section on “Proficiency Swaps”. As always, I’d double check with your DM to see how they personally rule it, but, as I read it, each of the four weapon proficiencies granted from the High Elf subrace should be able to be swapped out for four different tool proficiencies. This means that you can really go ham with customization. In my case, I felt that Carpenter’s Tools, Leatherworker’s Tools, Weaver’s Tools, and Woodcarver’s Tools told the story of a one-man home renovator. Able to make modifications to the home, knock down walls, make additions, put up decorations, assemble and upholster the furniture, even make some new clothes for the inhabitants (the Elven lifespan gives you plenty of time to hone your craft . . . your crafts ).  

As for why he’s no longer practicing those crafts, I’ll admit, I had to sit and have a very long think about what this could be. The Haunted One’s Harrowing Event implies that the “monster” had some sort of reason for leaving you alive. Whether that be a mere whim, because it sensed some vague potential within you, or just because it thought it would be funny to murder a man’s whole family and leave him to deal with the survivor’s guilt. No matter how shallow the reason might be, it still implies a certain degree of intelligence that a wild animal or mindless beast isn’t likely to have. To that end, I delved deep into the D&D bestiary to get some idea of what Pallas could be hunting for.  

With Nip a few chapters ago, I didn’t really think too much about what he might be trying to get revenge against, just that it should be big enough to be able to bitch-slap a Barbarian off a cliff. With Pallas, since the Hunter’s Bane gives you benefits against Fey, Fiends, and Undead, I knew I wanted the monster to be one of those, and I think I found something in Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica ; the Sire of Insanity. Fiend? Check. High CR? Check. Reasonably intelligent? Seems to be. It’s lore describes it as being employed to “break” the minds of new cultists, making them chaotic and deranged. Mechanically, its “Aura of Mind Erosion” and Innate Spellcasting aren’t the most permanently debilitating things for an adventuring party to run into, but maybe it’s just a different story for NPCs or Level 0 characters in the midst of their backstories?  

But! That’s just one idea, and there were plenty of other candidates. Whether they were Pallas’ personal BBEG in and of themselves, or just the hired help for some greater threat, there are any number of other ways that you could go with this, each with different reasons for attacking him, sparing him, etc.

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Petrov (he/him): Loxodon/Druid (Spores)  

Background: Clan Crafter  

Personality Trait: I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick.  

Personality Trait: I’m full of witty aphorisms and have a proverb for every occasion.  

Ideal: My talents were given to me so that I could use them to benefit the world.  

Bond: I will get revenge on the evil forces that destroyed my place of business and ruined my livelihood.  

Flaw: I’ll do anything to get my hands on something rare or priceless.  

Once a traveling merchant, Petrov wandered the land with his herd, setting up tents near the cities and towns they came across and selling their wares. While his herd community sold a bevy of products, Petrov, himself, ran a small apothecary of sorts, selling potions, herbs, and other remedies at reasonable prices. His was an amicable clan, welcoming trade with any they came across. All seemed well until one night.  

Unbeknownst to Petrov or his herd, their most recent destination, a small but thriving fishing village near the marshlands, had recently become a target for raiders, and, after their shops had all closed for the night, the raiders attacked, sensing the easy prey. Petrov awoke to the sounds of his screaming herdsmen, and the cries of the raiders. Before he could even leave his makeshift pavilion, a flaming torch was thrown through an opening and collided with his alchemical workstation, where he had been tinkering with a new formula the day prior. Almost before he could react, Petrov’s concoctions and medicines ignited violently, and everything went black.  

Petrov awoke hours later in the burned out remains of his mobile shop groggy, and with a splitting headache, but surprisingly unharmed. Well, no, not unharmed, healed? Indeed, as Petrov came to, he was able to better examine himself and found that, while he had sustained injuries while he was unconscious, mostly burns and what felt like it would have been a nasty head wound, they had all been covered over with a strange sort of lichen, sealing and protecting the wounds. Perhaps some of his alchemical supplies had mixed with his medicinal herbs during the explosion? Getting into his system and healing his injuries as soon as they formed? Whatever had occurred, it might have just saved his life. The same, tragically, could not be said for his people. It was clear from the devastation that he was the only one who had made it.  

The fishing village offered what help they could in Petrov’s recovery, getting him back on his feet and getting him ready to continue his journey. This time, however, Petrov was not returning to the life of a merchant. No, this time, he had a family to avenge. This time, he needed allies to help him do it. And, this time, he had new powers beginning to develop following his accident. A magical connection to the plants that surrounded him, and lichen that now inhabited him. Perhaps that was something worth looking into?

So, yeah. D&D adventurer by way of comic book superhero backstory. Not the way I would have seen this going either. Less “becoming in tune with nature”, more “having an antenna shoved into your head”. Nature’s broadcasting straight into your brain whether you want it to or not.  

Creating this character gave me so much trouble, even now I wonder if he might not still need one, final, revision. From the get-go I’d created him, mostly, on a whim. I thought that a giant elephant person was a pretty cool Player Race.  Pre-Tasha's, they got a big boost to Wisdom, so . . . either Cleric or Druid. Don’t really vibe with Clerics, so Druid it is. What kind? Hmmm, I already did Moon. Wildfire and Stars might not have existed yet at this point. Land? Shepherd? Dreams? They just weren’t the most interesting subclasses to me. Circle of Spores? Yeah, sure, mushroom zombies, that sounds cool.  

Okay, Loxodon Mushroom Druid. Why? How did this happen? Why Spores as opposed to, literally, anything else? That would be the question that would plague me for months after creating this character concept, until, finally, I started to get some spark of inspiration from the more mercantile backgrounds. I looked at what other Artisan’s Tools I could combine with the Druid’s Herbalism Kit, and immediately Alchemist’s Supplies jumped out at me as an obvious choice. From there everything started falling into place.  

Well, almost everything. I always like to have some sort of goal or quest for each of my characters to be on in addition to whatever overarching thing the party as a whole is doing. For Petrov, I just can’t think of much. I know I mentioned in the Bond and the Backstory that he wants to avenge his family and go after the marauders, but at the same time, I envision Petrov as being such a sagely guy that for him it’d be less “I must make them pay”, and more “wouldn’t want that to happen to someone else”. It’s hard to come up with wants and desires for a character that’s more Caduceus than Percy, you know? Even the Flaw I picked didn’t feel like it fit the image in my head, it was just the least worst option.

Perhaps this is a problem that simply requires nothing more than a good Session 0 and some other players to bounce off of to fix. For as much as I love this game, I don’t have much experience playing it. Even less with anything that involves roleplay or character exploration. What do you think? If you have any ideas for what you might do with a character like this, let me know in the comments.

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Pontus Ahlorsath (he/him): Triton/Paladin (Crown)

Quirk: You learned an antiquated version of Common and drop “thee” and “thou” into your speech.

Background: Investigator

Personality Trait: I’m always polite and respectful.

Personality Trait: I face problems head-on. A simple direct solution is the best path to success.

Ideal: My city, nation, or people are all that matter.

Bond: Someone saved my life on the battlefield. To this day, I will never leave a friend behind.

Flaw: My hatred for my enemies is blind and unreasoning.

Born and raised in the undersea Triton protectorate, Ahlors, Pontus grew up knowing the sacred, and noble, cause of the Tritons: protecting the Prime Material Plane from the dangers of the Plane of Water. While in the past, the Triton protectorates had kept this duty confined to the deepest depths and the ocean floor, more recent events (such as the Twelfth Serôs War just over a century prior) had caused the Tritons to realize that their duties extended beyond what had once been thought. They had a duty to combat all the evils of the ocean. 

A more recent school of thought attempted to push this idea even further, for not all the threats of the ocean stayed in the ocean. To this end, the theocracy of Ahlors proposed a new coalition; a division of Triton warriors, similar to the Order of the Crimson Shell, whose purpose would be to seek out such natatory threats that would escape to, or imperil, the surface world: The Order of the Steel Rain . Pontus Ahlorsath was among the first to volunteer for this bold new initiative in the eradication of the Sahuagin threat. Under strict instruction he prepared, studied, and trained with weighted armor that kept him bound to the sea floor to better simulate combat on the surface. In time, his training would be complete, and not a moment too soon. 

Word had come from the priests; a vision, they said, granted to them by Persana of a powerful and terrible artifact hidden somewhere on the surface. Should it be found by the Sahuagin pursuing it, it would mean disaster for both the world above the waves, and the one below it. Pontus’ orders were clear: find the artifact and secure it by any means necessary, do not let the world fall to chaos and ruin.

To get it out of the way, yes, I made a Paladin out of the Player Race that, in its earliest incarnation, gave a bonus to Strength, Constitution, and Charisma. Sue me. It basically screamed “Make me into a Paladin” in flashing neon lights. 

But, as ever, the more important questions are what kind of Paladin, and why? Given Triton’s whole . . . thing (emphasis on kingdoms and nobility, their chivalric nature, and the fact that it was literally a codified part of the Volo’s Tritons lore that they can talk like Thor) Oath of the Crown seemed a fitting pick. So, okay. Oath of the Crown Triton. Defender of civilization. Lives in an undersea kingdom. What’s he doing on the surface? Because, unless you’re running an underwater campaign, he will be on the surface. Well, the Sahuagin and the Order of the Crimson Shell, who specifically hunt the Sahuagin, seemed like a good place to start, though a bit limited. 

If I want a Triton character who keeps to established lore, while also having good reason to stay with the party over the course of a long-term campaign, then I’d need a knightly order whose purview was a bit broader than just dealing with creatures whose CR tops out at 6. Enter the Order of the Steel Rain. I’m not sure how well I explained it in the backstory itself, but I envision it as an exclusively surface-focused sect of Tritons who deal with oceanic creatures causing problems on the surface, surface creatures who could pose a threat to the oceans (interpret that as loosely as you like), and develop positive relations with the surface, with Pontus playing the part of representative, diplomat, emissary, etc. 

I went back and forth a lot about whether or not I wanted the Sahuagin to have actually stolen the macguffin, or if it was just predicted that they would. Ultimately, I like the inciting incident better as a vision of the future since it puts less of a ticking clock on the party and allows the story to progress more naturally, fitting in the Sahuagin story where it would make the most sense, as opposed to shoehorning it in right at the start (though now that I think about it, it could make a good Session One inciting incident for the whole campaign. Maybe for a campaign starting at a higher level...).

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Rafael “the Recalcitrant” Famulus (he/him): Half-Elf (Mark of Storm)/Warlock (Celestial)  

Background: Fisher  

Fishing Tale: You nearly caught a fish of monstrous size that pulled your boat for miles.  

Personality Trait: I need long stretches of quiet to clear my head.  

Personality Trait: I dislike bargaining; state your price and mean it.  

Ideal: Good people make even the longest voyage bearable.  

Bond: Someone else’s greed destroyed my livelihood, and I will be compensated.  

Flaw: I work hard, but I play harder.  

In the world of Toril, danger lurks around every corner. At any moment, there are hordes of Orcs waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting village, krakens lurking in the depths, and dragons hording wealth enough to make any man a king. With so much to find, to make, to slay and plunder, it’s no wonder why so many are drawn to the life of an adventurer. Rafael Famulus was NOT one such individual. He was a humble fisherman by trade and, if he’d had his druthers, a humble fisherman is what he would have remained until he’d reached a ripe old age. He was content to sail the coastline with his father and brother in their trawler, collecting fish for the market.  

Unfortunately, the fish gradually grew less plentiful, and the ones they did catch were as often malformed and foul as not. His father, Santiago , always blamed the new alchemical laboratory that had recently sprung up in town, certain was he that they secretly dumped their unused and expired potions and components into the waters. Whatever the case, the local fishing industry, and, by extension, the Famulus family, were falling on hard times. To make matters worse, Santiago’s health took a sudden turn for the worse. Ruled as all but incurable by the town doctor, the recent financial strain meant that neither Rafael nor his brother, Glaucus , could afford more expensive arcane or divine cures. Amid their mutual commiserations Rafael confided to his brother that he would do anything to save their father.  

Rafael went to bed that night, not thinking much about his and his brother’s conversation, but his brother had not been the only one to hear his words. That night, he was met with a vision. In his dreams Rafael was visited by a green-skinned angel who claimed to sense a spark of destiny in the young fishmonger. The angel, Asbeel , had heard Rafael’s plea and had come to make a bargain. A cult worshiping a rival god had been gaining power as of late and Asbeel wished them destroyed. To this end the bargain was struck: Rafael would be granted a portion of Asbeel’s divine might and would strike down the cult. In exchange, Santiago would be cured, and his family looked after so long as Rafael was set on his task.  

Accepting the pact Rafael awoke stronger, with glowing bands of light encircling his wrists. Similarly, his father also awoke, rising from his bed for the first time in days feeling as though he had never been sick. Delighted to see that Asbeel had been as good as his word, Rafael told his family of his dream and set about making preparations. So it was that Rafael set off on his quest to vanquish the cult and meet his destiny, determined to hold up his end of the bargain and return to his old life as quickly as possible.  

He was lucky to escape with his life.  

After his calamitous first contact with the enemy, Rafael’s zeal for his lot in life had been thoroughly doused. Upon his next meeting with the angel, Rafael begged to be let out of his deal and be allowed to return home. Asbeel seemed to relent, and Rafael returned to his provincial life. As the days passed, Rafael noticed that the glowing bands around his wrists seemed to fade. To his horror, however, he noticed that with his diminishing power, Santiago’s health similarly diminished, until he was nearly bedridden once more. That night, in his dream, Rafael confronted the heavenly host demanding an explanation. Asbeel explained that, with the deal off, he was no longer under any obligation to alleviate Santiago’s symptoms and would allow nature to retake its natural course. Unless, of course, Rafael was to reconsider his reconsideration, then Asbeel would, of course, reinstate his protections upon the Famulus family.  

Thoroughly bent over the barrel, Rafael had little choice but to recommit to his fool’s errand and see it through, no matter the cost. This time, at least, Asbeel did give him a skosh more freedom in determining his plan of attack, permitting him some measure of time to prepare himself and, if possible, gather some allies to his cause, so that he might live to see his “destiny” fulfilled.

When I’m in the right mood, I really can make a meal out of almost anything. In this case, I heard the word “Recalcitrant” in a Stupendium song and immediately thought “That’s a neat word. That’s a fun word. You don’t hear ‘recalcitrant’ very often. I want to use that for something”. Fast forward a few days, and Rafael the Recalcitrant was born; someone bound to a divine being, who is very unhappy with their arrangement (I think Rafael marks the fastest turnaround from having an idea for a character, to writing out that character’s full backstory).  

Basically, a classic sort of “not reading the terms and conditions” type of deal with the devil, except, this time, perpetrated by someone who is, ostensibly, supposed to be one of the “good” guys. Lure him in with promises of destined greatness only to give him a support kit and send him to fight something far beyond his weight class. It hadn’t even crossed my mind when initially writing Rafael’s story, but I wonder how many deluded Celestial Warlocks might have come before Rafael. The Planetar so desperate to find someone, anyone, who could deal with his God’s rival’s cult, that he just sends soul after soul to their doom.  

And what of the deal that they struck? Rafael’s father remains healthy so long as he combats the cult and strikes a blow against the rival God, presumably being cured completely upon the contract’s completion. But what about a potential loophole? Plenty of PCs can gain access to spells like Lesser Restoration (or even Greater Restoration if you want to stretch the severity of Santiago’s ailment). Heck, even Celestial Pact Warlocks get the Restoration spells as pick-up options. Could it be that simple? Cure Santiago so that Asbeel can’t use him as a bargaining chip? Would he give you access to those spells if you could turn them against his interests? Perhaps the contract keeps him locked out of outside interference?  

Then, there’s the matter of the other half of the contract: the fish. Fish will be plentiful enough that Rafael’s family will be able to carry on without him whilst he fulfills his end of the deal. Without the contract though, the business was struggling. Was Santiago right, is alchemical pollution the cause? A new, oceanic, predator eating/scaring away all their profits? Does the party need to fight off a rival business or partake in a high seas monster fight to save the Famulus’ livelihood?  

All of this, of course, ignores a far more glaring issue. Rafael the Recalcitrant commits a cardinal sin of character creation: he is an adventurer who doesn’t want to be an adventurer. If your table is cool with changing characters periodically, this might not be the worst thing in the world. Perhaps you’re more of a “guest” at the table, joining the adventure for a few sessions before leaving. In that case, there’s no issue whatsoever with showing up needing help fighting a cult, going to fight the cult, then leaving. But if you’re looking for a more long-term solution, you could keep an eye out for reasons why Rafael might be developing a taste for adventuring (it is a lucrative line of work, perhaps it could be a shortcut to a retirement plan). Alternatively, if Rafael’s involvement is contingent on combating the rival God, then perhaps the cult, and more broadly the God they serve, are the BBEG of the entire campaign, with sects and machinations that have to be thwarted in ever grander conflicts all over the map?  

Food for thought.

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Rebis (they/them): Reborn/Wizard (Transmutation)

Lost Memories: A memory carries a vivid smell or sensation. What are you going to do to recreate that experience?

Reborn Origins: Stitches bind your body’s mismatched pieces, and your memories come from multiple different lives.

Background: Custom

Personality Trait: I am haunted by my tortured past, and wake at night screaming at half-remembered horrors.

Personality Trait: I take every effort to be unnoticeable and blend into the crowd. Passerby rarely give me a second look.

Ideal: As someone new to these strange lands, I am cautious and respectful in my dealings.

Bond: My mentor gave me a journal filled with lore and wisdom. Losing it would devastate me.

Flaw: I am incapable of standing up for myself.

They awoke on a table. The room was unfamiliar to them. Everything was unfamiliar to them; the stark metal table they laid upon, the implements in the tray beside them, the items on the table across the room. Even their own body they did not recognize. Bereft of memory, they knew they had nothing to base their observation on, but still they were certain their body was strange; the skin tones and colors that began and ended at seemingly random intervals, the deep grooves that ran between them, crisscrossed by thread, their asymmetrical limbs. They were certain it was not normal. Where were they? Who were they? What were they? Perhaps there were answers in this room, but they would not be found now. Taking what they could carry (a book filled with many black lines and scratched out passages, a jar with a lid shaped like an animal, and a medley of small, strange, blades), they fled into the dark. 

In time they came upon a strange field, throughout which there were a number of long flat stones jutting from the ground, and a pair of individuals standing over a wooden box buried in the ground. It seemed the pair shared their opinion of their looks as when the two saw them, they both cried out and fled. Still, they had noticed something about the pair, the two were covered in fabrics, while they had none. The man in the box seemed deeply asleep, perhaps he would not mind if they borrowed his fabrics? Now clothed, they attempted to use the solitude to examine the book they had taken from the room. Relying mostly on instinct, and strange flickers of recollection, they found they were able to read the words, what few words there were to read. Much of the book had been made illegible, but there were illustrations that seemed to depict them and one word that seemed to come up more than others; Rebis. It seemed as good a name as any. 

Unfortunately, Rebis’ time for reflection would be cut short as the two individuals from before had returned. This time accompanied by other people. Other people with torches. And swords. So Rebis fled. Over several days they found it was the same in every case, whenever someone would see them, they would scream or shout and call the guards, until the day came when Rebis happened upon someone who couldn’t see them. Sticking mostly to the solitude of the forest, Rebis happened upon a small cabin. Eager to find shelter against the autumn chill, Rebis decided to try their luck. Maybe it was abandoned? Instead, Rebis found that the cabin was owned by an elderly blind man who, unlike the others, was more than happy to welcome Rebis in. 

The man listened to Rebis’ tale and gave them sage advice as well as some possible clues toward discovering who they really are. Additionally, the man revealed that he had once been an adventurer, and a great practitioner of the arcane, but that that life had left him blinded and crippled and forced into retirement. Nonetheless, the man offered his knowledge to Rebis, helping them relearn the basics of the world as well as teaching them magic so that they might pursue their mysteries with a bit less fear. In fact, Rebis proved surprisingly adept at mastering the arcane, quickly deciphering many of the early pages in the old wizard’s spell book and using them as a foundation for developing their own spells. Armed with knowledge, a satchel of magical notes, and an old cloak to better hide their features, the time had come for Rebis to set out into the world once more and figure out just who, and what, they are.

So, yes. I took one look at the Reborn Lineage and thought “what if Frankenstein’s Monster, but D&D character?”. At least I got more clever about it in my second pass at creating a Reborn character. A second character that . . . you . . . already saw . . . 

My system is confusing. 

Regardless , I had a lot of fun writing this and I think that’s the important part. 

I usually try to keep the perspective of the backstory focused on only what the character themselves would know, so a lot of the ideas I had for this character regarding NPCs and the like ended up on the proverbial cutting room floor. If anyone in the comments is interested in talking shop, I could get into it there, but, for now, that will remain between me and any future DMs. 

The Background for this character is interesting as it marks my first foray into creating a custom Background instead of one of the premade ones, though it didn’t initially. At first, I really struggled with which Background to choose. What skills and experiences can a person have accumulated if they didn’t even exist until just recently? With Arraness the Githyanki Fighter, he was also an amnesiac, but he’d lived a life before that and could feasibly call upon some muscle-memory know-how that justified his Background. I suppose you could tie it to the identity of the original owner of Rebis’ brain, as some of the old life poking through, but, at the time, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Until recently, I’d actually been using a homebrew Amnesiac Background I’d found on DND Beyond because of how unsatisfied I was with the official options, and how unfamiliar I was with the customization option. For what it’s worth, it’s pretty good, and elements of it still linger in the backstory, but I figure if I’m going to be screaming my characters into the internet void, then I should probably make them as DM agnostic as I can. 

Anyway, character build! I know Transmutation isn’t considered the most impressive of the Wizard subclasses, but I thought it was the most fitting pick for a being trying to understand the nature of their own existence. You could go more spooky, maybe Spirits Bard or Phantom Rogue, if you wanted. Try to forge a connection with the lives of the body parts that make you up? Nothing else seems to fit for taking things from a more academic route, though. I’m well aware I’m not the first to come up with the idea, but I like the idea of a Frankenstein’s monster trying to track down the identities of their composite parts. Depending on how carefully the Reborn was assembled, each body part might have a unique, catalogued, identity connected to it. Or, you’re just made of whatever the mad doctor had lying around. Whichever the case, I think there should be a story regarding the head/brain, the spark of intelligence that gives the Reborn their individuality, even if the brain’s original owner might not be home anymore. Perhaps keep an eye out for any missing persons of intellectual acclaim? 

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Reinier R’lyeh (xe/xem/xyr): Human (Variant)/Sorcerer (Clockwork Soul)

Background: Hermit

Life of Seclusion: I retreated from society after a life-altering event.

Personality Trait: I’m oblivious to etiquette and social expectations.

Personality Trait: I connect everything that happens to me to a grand, cosmic plan.

Ideal: If you know yourself, there’s nothing left to know.

Bond: I entered seclusion to hide from the ones who might still be hunting me. I must someday confront them.

Flaw: I am dogmatic in my thoughts and philosophy.

From an early age it was clear that young Simon Hyler was not an ordinary child. Born with brass-like skin, an obsessive fixation with, and need for, symmetry, and strange powers that seemed to bring order from chaos. In another life, xyr birth might have been met with either praise or trepidation, exile or excited meetings with mages, scholars, or tutors who would teach xem to harness xyr powers. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), the only person Simon had in xyr life growing up was xyr uncle Otto , a man who was, himself, an associate of a local crime family with the goal of rising through its ranks and a plan for how his nibling might be able to help him.

Otto endeavored to raise Simon with as much understanding and accommodation of xyr eccentricities as possible in hopes that xyr burgeoning magical powers might aid him in pulling off trickier jobs and earning the Family’s favor. Simon, for xyr part, saw the criminal activity as an opportunity to practice xyr magic and help xyr uncle, two of the only things xe really cared about.

For a time, it worked well. Meager though it was, Simon’s magical hands and probability manipulation snatched victory from the jaws of defeat more than once, and the Family was pleased. However, no matter how dangerous the job turned out to be, or near a miss they’d managed to avoid, Otto’s eyes only continued to grow larger than his stomach. Bigger asks, more dangerous targets, . . . greater investment from the Family . For certain jobs, the Family would provide Otto with money and resources to help him obtain what they asked, with the expectation of a manifold return on their investment. Items would be put to use, of course, but when he was supplied with gold with which to acquire his own supplies, leaving fewer traces to the Family , Otto couldn’t help but try to spare every expense and pocket the difference for himself. He had Simon after all. His secret weapon. Xe would make up the difference.

It didn’t take long for this to go predictably wrong. It took even less time for the Family to catch up with the pair and set about resolving Otto’s debt. Evidently, their loss of investment was enough that the Family’s head, Caesar , made a rare appearance to see to their punishment personally. Unfortunately for Otto , it didn’t take long for Caesar to realize that most of Otto’s usefulness to the Family stemmed from his mystically gifted relative and Otto was released from the Family’s service. Permanently. Caesar’s enforcers then turned their attention to the, understandably distraught, Simon, seeking to put xem more directly in the Family’s service. Sensing that the Family would not be nearly so understanding or accommodating of xem as xyr uncle had been, Simon summoned every scrap of magic xe could and made xyr escape.

Fleeing into the forest, Simon thanked Primus when xe eventually came upon a long-abandoned shack. Though drafty, overgrown, and home to a menagerie of forest creatures, it was a safe place for Simon to rest and think. And think xe did. For days. For weeks. For months xe sat and pondered, foraging for food in the forest and restoring the shack to a livable condition, all the while reflecting. For so much of xyr life, Simon only really concerned xemself with helping to do what xyr uncle wanted, but with time to reflect, Simon considered what it was that xe had actually been doing. Stealing, smuggling, lying, shaking down poor souls, it . . . didn’t sit well with xem. Up to this point, Simon was only really concerned with xyr powers and the connection xe felt by using them. Harmony, order, symmetry, perfection. Using xyr powers gave xem a sense of oneness, like xe were marching to a rhythm, a beat that only xe could hear. But now, Otto was gone, and xe had questions to answer. What had xe been doing? What would xe do now? What did xe want?

The last question was, in some ways, both the easiest and hardest to answer. Xe wanted order; peace. Chaos and disharmony always grated on xyr soul, but what order was best? The Family brought order, in their own way. They organized crime, reduced randomness and chaos, but for what? Streamlining the means by which they robbed, murdered, and ruined lives? This certainly appealed to Simon’s magical connection to order, but Otto , and especially the fate that befell him, did not appeal to Simon xemself. All xyr life xe had had this power. Now, with the chance to introspect, xe wanted to do something with it. Something that xe could feel proud of.

After nearly a year of isolation in the old cabin, Simon felt that xe had pondered everything there was to ponder alone. If xe were going to come to any more conclusions about xemself, the world, and xyr place in it, it was going to require actually going out into the world and figuring it out firsthand. So, for the first time in a long time, xe set out on their own. In doing so, xe adopted a newer, more perfect name, since, while xe had no intention of crossing the Family (yet), xe certainly didn’t want to attract their attention more than was absolutely necessary.

Now it was time to put Simon Hyler to rest. Now it was time to see who Reinier R’lyeh was.

I feel like I somehow created a character who manages to be a background character in xyr own backstory.

So, yeah. Originally, this was just a gimmick idea of “what about a Clockwork Soul Sorcerer who always does every action in perfect symmetry and also speaks in palindromes?”. That last one especially helped to flesh out a lot of Reinier's backstory. Looking up palindromic words and phrases that I could sprinkle into xyr dialogue (I’m always amazed at the weird, niche, stuff I can find on the internet) gave me a goldmine of inspiration:

• Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?

• Flee to me, remote elf.

• Egad, a base life defiles a bad age.

• Nella’s simple hymn: “I attain my help, Miss Allen”

• Draw, O Caesar, erase a coward.

• No mists or frost, Simon.

• Live not on evil.

• Live was I ere I saw evil.

• "Reviled did I live” said I "as evil I did deliver”

• He lived as a devil, eh?

• No, miss, it is Simon.

There were more, but these were the ones that contributed the most to turning “guy what mirrors himself” into “nonbinary order paragon with a new name and a shady past”. And that “shady past” proved a massive hurdle. Originally, this character was conceived in the aftermath of the first look at the Planescape backgrounds (namely the Planar Philosopher), but as I found more and more palindromes to incorporate (particularly the ones about seeing and delivering evil), the direction changed. I ended up twisting myself into knots trying to think of ways to incorporate more criminal elements into the backstory of the Sorcerer now formerly known as Simon. How willingly did xe commit these crimes? Was it with full knowledge (if so why’d xe stop)? Were xe an unwitting pawn? Did xyr parent/guardian take advantage of xyr magical abilities for their own purposes? That last one especially I tried to make work; the idea that Otto was using Reinier to commit crimes under the pretense of “magic practice”. I liked the idea, but I struggled to find low-level spells that could realistically fit under the banner of “helps someone else do crimes while keeping the caster ignorant of its use”. Eventually, I just had to concede and make Reinier a more active participant. Not exactly “willing”, but not “unwilling”, content to be Otto’s tool until it all came crumbling down.

Back to the topic of Backgrounds, I eventually ended up ditching Planar Philosopher (but still kept the feat. Thanks, Variant Human), but ended up waffling about trying to pick a different one. Criminal? Feels a little strong for someone who’s, at worst, an accessory. Azorius Functionary? Interesting, but the Legal Authority Feature feels a little unwieldy outside the confines of Ravnica. Planar Philosopher? I already had the feat I wanted from it through Variant Human, and no DM in their right mind would give a Player Character two feats at Level 1 (edit: the 2024 rules update really likes to put egg on my face. And, I mean, Scion of the Outer Planes doesn't give any plusses to ability scores, so it . . . technically counts as an Origin Feat. Huh.). So, it was either Planar Philosopher or Variant Human and, for some reason, I really wanted xem to be a human. Eventually (obviously), I settled on Hermit, with all of the same narrative pitfalls that came with the last time I used it. Why did xe decide to stop being a Hermit? Because . . . Xe decided to stop being a Hermit 🤷.

Chapter Text

Sagittarius Salmagundi (he/him): Simic Hybrid/Ranger (Gloom Stalker)

Background: Outlander

Origin: Forester

Personality Trait: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing nature.

Personality Trait: I feel far more comfortable around animals than people.

Ideal: The natural world is more important than all the constructs of civilization.

Bond: I suffer awful visions of a coming disaster and will do anything to prevent it.

Flaw: I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies.

Sagittarius Salmagundi was, first and foremost, a family man. As a humble innkeeper, he cared deeply for his family and saw to the needs of his clientele. Among his favorite customers to receive, though, were the many adventurers of the realm. Listening to them sit around the tables and telling tales to each other about their epic adventures stirred something within Sagittarius, a faint longing that he too could be a grizzled, globe-trotting, fortune-hunter, facing the odds and saving the world. Unfortunately, his wish would come true.  

Despite his seemingly arcadian lifestyle, not all was well in the kingdom which Sagittarius called home. Hostile pressures loomed from neighboring lands; the actions of his leaders seemed always to be called into question; discontent was rising amongst the guilds and political factions. Every day that Sagittarius went about his business, there seemed to be a charge in the air, like any day the first shot would be fired, and everything would erupt into chaos. The thought scared him. Not for himself, necessarily, but he feared for his family. More and more he wished he could be like his brave customers, mighty enough to keep his family safe no matter the threat. An opportunity for this would come sooner than expected.  

One day, a terrible row broke out amongst the adventuring patrons Sagittarius so fancied, and the devastation was tremendous. Hoping to save his business and livelihood Sagittarius interjected himself between the quarreling warriors and nearly paid for that mistake with his life. Spared from death by the faint magic of a contrite teammate of the instigators, Sagittarius was left to find his own healing. While recovering in a healing temple, Sagittarius had little to do but talk with those who attended him. He lamented his provincial life and, despite his recent souring toward the adventurer lifestyle, he still wished he could be one of those noble protectors, if only to show the rest how it's done. Hearing this, one of his nurses made mention that there might be a way to kill two birds with one stone; restore his body and endow him with the ability to protect those dearest to him. Sagittarius was hesitant to say the least, given the convenient timeliness of the offer. However, with few choices available to him, he took the offer.  

What happened to him following his agreement was something of a blur. Days. Weeks. Months? They were all spent in a daze, sequestered away in an underground laboratory, undergoing countless surgeries and, what Sagittarius suspected were, arcane experiments. The next time that Sagittarius truly awoke, he was shocked, horrified at what he had become, what he had been made into. His pale, elvish features were no longer recognizable. Instead, his body had a blueish-green hue and was covered in scales. He had whiskers, fins, and strange markings and patterns all along his body. From his back sprouted strange membranous wings and his jaw rested uncomfortably on a bed of jagged shark teeth. Deep in his core, he could sense that this wouldn’t be the end of it either.  

Even more troubling, somehow, than his terrifying new visage was the room he didn’t recognize, and the people he didn’t know, telling him that he was their property now. It was here that Sagittarius found himself conscripted into a militia of sorts. His days were spent training with weapons, learning the principles of the arcane, and becoming familiar with his new body and all that it was capable of. As much as he, and others in his situation, wanted desperately to escape, most were kept in line by the threat of further experimentation, turning them from something that was already barley a man, into one of the organizations Krasis abominations; a mindless beast. Sagittarius tried to learn as much as he could about his captors during his time but could only seem to determine that they were being housed deep underground, making the passage of time almost impossible to determine.  

Eventually, a small collection of his fellow recruits became fed up with their lot and staged a revolt and stormed for the exits. Though Sagittarius had not been privy to the attempted coup, he nonetheless saw his opportunity to escape and took it and, miraculously, made it out. Though he dared not look back to check, he wasn’t confident that anyone else had been as fortunate. But he was free. Free, and now a monster who couldn’t return home. Until such a time that he could find a way to undo what had been done to him and get his life back, Sagittarius committed himself to the forests, using his training to survive and form connections with any who would give him business. Mostly, this involved hunting beasts for coin and spending that coin on weapons, armor, and other essentials that he couldn’t forage for himself. Morosely, Sagittarius wondered if he had gotten his wish, now able to do just the slightest bit of good, albeit from the shadows.  

Level 1

Level 5

Simic Combine by way of the Weapon X program. Wasn’t sure how I was going to get everything to fit together, initially. But I’m happy with how it turned out.

Not much really “inspired” this character. I just thought that Simic Hybrids seemed really cool, and I wanted to do something with them. I didn’t have many ideas for Ranger going in, but the longer it percolated in my brain, the more I saw the potential (especially with Tasha’s optional/2024 base features) to marry Sagittarius’ Simic Hybrid features with his Ranger features and have all of them being extensions of his experimentation continuing to burgeon forth. Nature’s Veil? Innate camouflage. Combine Manta Glide with Roving and you’re adapted to almost any situation with a Climb Speed, a Swim Speed, and what is essentially a Fly Speed in all but name.

As for Subclasses, Gloom Stalker is the one I kept coming back to the most, perfect for someone who wants to help, but doesn’t want anyone to see him for . . . whatever reason. However, I can’t deny the appeal of some of the “animal companion” subclasses like Beast Master or Drake Warden; the deformed science experiment who feels shunned by society and finds companionship in one of the only creatures that won’t judge him on his appearance.

Chapter Text

Siegfried Pachem (he/him): Half-Orc/Paladin (Redemption)

Background: Marine

Hardship Endured: You hid underwater to avoid detection by enemies and held your breath for an extremely long time. Just before you would have died, you had a revelation about your existence.

Personality Trait: I prefer to solve problems without violence, but I finish fights decisively.

Personality Trait: I am dependable.

Ideal: Success depends on cooperation and communication.

Bond: I must set an example of hope for those who have given up.

Flaw: I grow combative and unpredictable when I drink.

As a young man Siegfried had always believed that the best defense was a strong offence. Patriotic to his core, Siegfried enlisted with the marines to stand as a bastion defending his kingdom. While there, Siegfried served as a model soldier, following his orders to a “t” and fighting with a fervor against all those opposed to his kingdom. He swiftly rose through the ranks and was soon in command of men of his own, leading the charge against his enemies.

All of that changed when he and his crew were on a scouting mission through an archipelago in enemy waters, attempting to map the labyrinthine terrain. His vessel was ambushed by a pair of enemy frigates and attacked on site. With no time to prepare a counterattack, Siegfried soon found his vessel destroyed and his men lost to sea. Amidst the chaos Siegfried himself was thrown overboard. Not only had his ship been sunk, but Siegfried had also noticed that the enemy vessels were also patrolling the wreckage, hunting down survivors. Realizing this, Siegfried dove beneath the water, willing himself to remain below for as long as he could until the frigates passed him by. Seconds stretched into minutes, but Siegfried would not resurface until he knew it was safe. And then, just as he felt his lungs would finally give out, a realization came to him, a question: What had it all been for?

Like a vision, Siegfried saw his whole life to that point before him. All the fighting, death, and devastation, for what? For resources that could have been shared or traded? To settle a feud between two rulers who would probably never even meet each other face to face, or avenge some slight from generations past? If not for all this warfare, his men might have survived, he would not have to be drowning to death, hiding for his life beneath the waves.

When Siegfried came back to his senses, he was gasping for air, clinging to a piece of driftwood, and the enemy frigates had departed. He had survived. Fashioning a makeshift raft out of the wreckage of his ship, Siegfried miraculously found his way home, a new man. Once home, he set himself to his new path of peace, leaving the military and setting forth as a preacher of peace and unity, seeking to bring about nonviolent ends to conflicts. Not an easy task in a world as belligerent as the one Siegfried calls home, but he remains steadfast, the zeal he had once brought to making war, he will now put towards ending it.

“Si vis pacem, para bellum”. If you seek peace, prepare for war. I can’t remember exactly where I first heard this expression, but as soon as I did, it immediately became the foundation for this character. Originally, his name was just going to be Sivis Pacem (subtle, I know) and I had a few different ideas for where I wanted to go with him, build-wise.  

On the one hand, I thought I might lean more toward the “Si vis pacem” part and seek peace as a Peace Cleric. I was a little hesitant to pull the trigger on that, mostly because Peace Domain was one of the subclasses that I’d heard a lot of DMs were banning for being OP. Don’t get me wrong, I like being powerful as much as the next guy, but I prefer build choices that make sense for the character or for the campaign, as opposed to just the most optimized build that will “win” D&D.  

On the other hand, I could lean more into the “para bellum” part and be prepared for war by going all the way to the other end of the Cleric spectrum as a War Cleric, or even a(nother) Fighter. Which Fighter? No idea! If I wanted to avoid repeating myself, then options were getting pretty slim.  

• Arcane Archer (aka Battle Master, but worse) 

• Banneret (God, no) 

• Champion (As I mentioned in my Brobding Nagian chapter, I played it once in a one shot. It was exactly as boring as everyone says it is, though the 2024 redesign looks promising) 

• Eldritch Knight (Nothing against it, really. The only thing holding me back was my own bias, knowing how much the later Gish subclasses had eaten its lunch. Though, again, the 2024 redesign looks promising) 

• Battle Master (I had never, and still have not, made a pure Battle Master, but I had multiclassed into one which . . . confused my poor OCPD brain) 

Luckily, it wouldn’t matter which option would be the best for the character, because I still had another problem to solve, one which would end up altering the course of the character forever: How should I spell his name?  

I wish I was kidding. No lie, I went back and forth endlessly over whether or not I should leave it as Sivis, or if I should change the spelling to make it clearer at a glance how to pronounce the name a la something like Seevees or Seevese or something. Which, while more phonetically obvious, just . . . looks sillier to me. But! As I mulled that over, somewhere deep in the back of my mind, another name started . . . calling to me: Siegfried. A good, strong, fantasy-sounding name. Heck, it even partially means “peace”. It sounds similar enough, I could just use it to pay homage to the Latin phrase. So . . . cool. Siegfried.  

But then, once his name was Siegfried, I mean . . . he had to be a Paladin, right? I think that’s, like, a law or something. From there, things came together fairly quickly. A quick glance at the Paladin Oaths revealed Redemption, sounds perfect, and I picked the Marine Background, more or less, on a whim and ended up stumbling into exactly what I was looking for.  

So, yeah. Siegfried Pacem, the Half-Orc Redemption Paladin. An old soldier who now seeks a peaceful resolution to conflicts. But isn’t afraid to throw down with things that don’t want to listen to reason. Enjoy.  

Chapter Text

Strafe (he/him): Tiefling (Winged)/Wizard (Evocation)

Background: Folk Hero

Defining Event: I led a militia to fight off an invading army.

Personality Trait: When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way.

Personality Trait: Thinking is for other people. I prefer action.

Ideal: Tyrants must not be allowed to oppress the people.

Bond: A proud noble once gave me a horrible beating, and I will take my revenge on any bully I encounter.

Flaw: I have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink.

Give a man a pair of wings and suddenly he thinks he’s the gods’ gift to the world. Such was the case for the tiefling known as Strafe. Growing up, Strafe was an infamous hellion around his hometown causing chaos and mischief wherever he pleased, relying on his vast, batlike wings, and his family’s relatively high status, to protect him from the worst of the consequences of his actions. As if he weren’t already insufferable enough, his rapscallious nature was paired with a keen mind that he put towards the study of the arcane. Originally only intended to provide him access to simple pyrotechnics for grander havoc (while still allowing him to travel light), Strafe would find his hobby more valuable than he ever could have imagined. A new baron had recently come to power in his region and was seemingly set on taxing the townsfolk for all they were worth.

Initially, Strafe saw the corrupt baron as little more than a new target for his chicanery, but the baron quickly proved he had no patience for Strafe’s antics. And, unlike his fellow townsfolk, the baron’s guards were more than well enough equipped to keep Strafe from pulling off his usual escapes. After one caper too many, Strafe was all set to fly off in his usual fashion, only to find his prized wings snared in nets and his body dragged back down to the ground. Strafe was beaten savagely and warned in no uncertain terms to cease his behavior, or else. Humbled by the experience, Strafe nursed his wounds and planned his next move.

By this time, the townsfolk were quite sick of the baron and Strafe found that his actions against the tyrant had, for the first time, won him some admiration from the townspeople, such that when the tiefling announced his intention to drive out the baron once and for all, Strafe was met with a sea of supporters. Over the following weeks, Strafe and the townsfolk planned carefully and trained covertly until the day came that the slapdash militia stormed the baron’s keep, with support from Strafe and his aerial evocation bombardment, and cast the corrupt leader out, installing a new, fairer, democratic rule in its place.

With his town liberated, Strafe became a local hero to the people, and found himself with a new drive to travel the world and combat oppression wherever he may find it. Sending it running with a cocky smile and a ball of fire.

If any of you come here for the “Author Commentary” portion, then I apologize that this may be a bit on the shorter side. Classes and job interviews have been keeping me busy. But I’m so close to the end (for now) I don’t want to break my perfect upload streak now.

Anyway, about the character. There’s not too much to say about his inception, honestly. Flying is dope (and very useful on almost any build). Blowing things up is dope. Tieflings are dope. Put it all together, and you’ve got a human(oid) fighter jet re-enacting scenes from Top Gun with his own body as the plane, carpet bombing the enemy with Fireballs and not even having to worry about your allies getting caught in your own Fireballs. As a Wizard I imagine him less as a studious nerd, nose down in a book, and more as that one obnoxiously smart person you know who always just sort of knew everything or picked things up really quickly and never had to study. Lucky jerk.

Folk Hero seemed like a fun deviation from yet another Soldier or Outlander and served as the perfect fuel for the ego of a cocky know-it-all flying around without a care while all the plebes are down on the ground. The Bond about having received a “horrible beating” from a noble, at least, can offer some interesting roleplay inspiration beyond just “I have wings, and you don’t”, as well as planting a seed of humility that can either grow or wither on the vine as you play. Another fun idea might be if the party includes someone else with wings (Aarakocra, Owlin, Fairy) showing that maybe Strafe isn’t so special after all.

One important question I like to ask about this character is: Is Feather Fall in your Spellbook? The way he received his beating from the guards was by getting snatched out of the air, so . . . are you humble enough to have a contingency just in case? Or are you arrogant enough to believe that you won’t possibly get caught twice ? That’s what all the blowing-up spells are for.

Food for thought.

Chapter Text

Subdual (he/him): Tiefling (Zariel)/Paladin (Conquest)

Background: Urchin

Personality Trait: I eat like a pig and have bad manners.

Personality Trait: I bluntly say what other people are hinting or hiding.

Ideal: The low are lifted up, and the high and mighty are brought down. Change is the nature of things.

Bond: I owe a debt I can never repay to the person who took pity on me.

Flaw: Gold seems like a lot of money to me, and I'll do just about anything for more of it.

Abandoned as a child, the man who would become Subdual never had much growing up, only a music box, and the occasional mouse he would keep as a pet. As a young tiefling, Subdual tried getting money for food by begging; but when some other urchins showed up, accused him of, in their words, “horning in on their turf”, and began roughing him up, something in him snapped. Subdual fought back against the ruffians, and did so ferociously, beating the boys senseless until they agreed to work for him. With force and fear he bent the boys to his will, making them tell him about how they’d survived; where they found their marks, what to steal, how much it was worth.

Having usurped control of the local urchins, and their “operation”, Subdual found himself with a consistently soft bed to sleep in, and a (reasonably) reliable supply of food. However, now that he had had more , he wanted even more more . When he spotted a paladin, a newcomer to town, taking up residence in a local tavern, Subdual’s eyes were drawn to the ornate sword that hung at his hip, festooned with gems and gilded accents, it must have been worth a fortune. He would have it! Unfortunately, Subdual’s eyes were bigger than his stomach by a mile, and when he broke into the paladin’s room later that night to steal the sword, he was caught. The paladin, whose name was Temedere Eleos , was a devout follower of Ilmater and could recognize the boy’s struggles at just a glance. So, Temedere offered him a choice: be handed over to the guards (as would befit a thief caught in the act) or accompany him as his squire, joining him on his journey and being given a chance at a new life. The choice (such as it was) was not difficult to make.

Subdual left his home, forced to abandon his burgeoning gang, and set off on the road on his forced apprenticeship. Even Subdual had to admit, however, that his caretaker did just that, protecting him from the dangers of the road while teaching him how to defend himself, never denying him food, shelter, clothing, or medicine, and being a stable constant in the young tiefling's life. And for his part, Subdual did his best to absorb nearly every lesson the magnanimous paladin had to offer. Nearly. Where Temedere’s espousing fell on deaf ears was when it came to issues of morality and generosity. As a follower of Ilmater, The Rack-Broken Lord, Temedere tried to teach Subdual the values of self-sacrifice, charity, and bearing the burden in the stead of others, and Subdual made a convincing show of agreeing with him. In truth, however, Subdual never forgot his first time beating his opponents into submission, turning enemies into allies through force, and, while he could admit that the paladin’s methods worked, he never saw an example that he wasn’t convinced would also work with overwhelming might and fear. As such, he tended to find kindred spirits amongst the likes of the hedonistic Tempus, Lord of Battles. Whatever the case, whether Subdual fooled Temedere into thinking his lessons had taken hold, or Temedere simply realized that the tiefling would not be swayed, after many years traveling together, he nonetheless declared Subdual’s training complete and wished him well as the two parted ways.

Perhaps surprisingly, Subdual did not immediately return to his gang, but instead remained on the path of the adventurer. Not out of any kind of noble intention, of course, but out of self-interest. For whilst he and the paladin had travelled together, though Temedere would shun all but the essentials as repayment for his good deeds, Subdual saw that there was considerable gold to be made by adventuring. Smiting down greedy despots and avaricious dragons and taking all that they had for himself? That was a notion he could get behind. Wealth would be an important steppingstone on his journey. For he would be wealthy. He would be mighty. He would be King, ruler of all he surveyed. He would never know anything less than luxury for the rest of his days. Because he wanted it. Because he was strong. If the world would not give him what he wanted, then he would take it, and woe to whatever poor fool that got in the way of that.

If there’s a way to make a good-aligned Conquest Paladin that’s true to the flavor of the subclass, I don’t know how to do it. That being said, just because you’re evil doesn’t mean you can’t be cooperative. I wanted to be sure to instill that as early as I could, serving under an adventurer to get firsthand evidence of how working with a group will let you take down bigger, badder, enemies than you ever could alone. If nothing else, since most of the biggest, wealthiest, and most powerful things in D&D tend to also be extremely evil, you will still be doing a fair amount of good, even if it is just as an accidental by-product.  

I think Jocat’s “Heart of Elynthi” series offers a very interesting look at how a character like this can work. Rather than just killing everything, turn bested enemies into minions for you. Gather informants and messengers to gather information for you, overthrow the bandit leader and have your new bandit tribe carry out minor tasks for you while you continue on your quest. Give them a training regimen to follow so they won’t be so easy to beat next time or give them a quota of gold that they have to gather before you return. I don’t know, have fun with it.  

With regards to the character genesis, there’s not too much to say. Zariel Tieflings get innate Paladin smites which you could argue are redundant on a Paladin, but I think of it as freeing you up to take more spells that you might not have otherwise had room for. That being said, I had another Zariel Tiefling that I’m in the process of prototyping, but now, I might make either them or Subdual into one of the new 2024 Tieflings to add some variety and avoid repeating myself. Chthonic Legacy has some potential here . . . maybe Infernal? 🤔  

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Trivaz (he/him): Vedalken/Artificer (Artillerist)

Background: Guild Artisan

Guild Business: Jeweler and gem-cutters

Personality Trait: I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can’t help it - I’m a perfectionist.

Personality Trait: I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick.

Ideal: I work hard to be the best there is at my craft.

Bond: The workshop where I learned my trade is the most important place in the world to me.

Flaw: I’m never satisfied with what I have - I always want more.

Trivaz lived his whole life amongst a community of craftsmen. Inventors, artists, and everything in between, Trivaz and his Vedalken brethren spent their days honing their craft, pushing onward to the eternal horizon of perfection. Though a jeweler by trade, Trivaz was a true polymath when it came to making. Stone, leather, metal, like many in his community, he could work with almost anything. However, it would be his more recent dabbling in more intricate mechanical construction and engineering that would prove the most propitious when his small village fell under siege to a raiding band of gnolls. Up to this point, Trivaz’s village had never had much need for personal security or standing guard as they had spent years negotiating a complex series of treaties with the surrounding states and sovereignties. So famous and reliable was the quality of their jewelry, weapons, armor, and more, that none would dare threaten (or allow others to threaten) their access to the Vedalken’s vendibles. And so secure were the Vedalken in the safety granted by these pacts that they forgot that not all are as logical, or reasonable, as they.

This glaring oversight might have spelled the end for the prosperous village were it not for a band of adventurers, just as borderless and autonomous as the gnolls, who came to their aid and fought off the horde. It was amidst this conflict that Trivaz got his first glimpse of something new, combat. Seeing the gnolls and the uncoordinated swings of their weapons, as well as the adventurers with their slightly more refined technique, Trivaz found a whole new dimension of craft to refine, hone, and work to perfect. And so, Trivaz set himself to study, learning the magical arts through the lens of an engineer, building mechanized spell craft. Once his designs were functional, he set out to put his tools under a real-world stress test, to refine and perfect his problem solvers.

Before I get into it, I just want to break something down very briefly. As an Artificer, you get Proficiency in Thieves’ Tools, Tinker’s Tools, and one more of your choice (personally, I went with Leatherworker’s Tools). As an Artillerist, specifically, you also get Proficiency in Woodcarver’s Tools. The Guild Artisan (or, I guess, now just . . . Artisan) Background gives you another tool proficiency of your choice (I opted for Jeweler’s Tools), and, as a Vedalken, you get another tool proficiency, this time with an extra d4 added to whatever checks you make with it (I figured Smith’s Tools rounded out the basics).

Put that all together, by LV 3, that’s six tool proficiencies! And while, yes, I’m sure with concerted effort you can probably rack up many more much earlier, I think six is pretty impressive for not trying. I mean, that’s one more than our previous one-man home renovator Pallas. When it comes to flavoring your Artificer magic, you’ve certainly got your pick of tools to draw inspiration from.

A fun fact about Trivaz: He’s the only character here that I can definitively say I almost played once. Got invited to a high - leve l one sho t , made my character, rolled my hit dice for each level, picked my spells, picked my infusions, picked a free magic item to start with, found out the one shot was going to be even higher level, rolled more hit dice, picked more spells and infusions, joined the Discord , waited for everyone to show up, aaaaaaaaand the session got calle d off because one guy couldn’t make it and we never managed to reschedule. Tale as old as time , amirite?

I like the idea of this character as an experiment in True Neutral. Someone so committed to progress for progress’ sake that he might even start giving the BBEG unsolicited advice on how to improve their doomsday device before remembering that he and the party are supposed to be there to keep them from using it in the first place.

As for character genesis: I think that Trivaz was one of my earlier creations (hopefully the writing quality doesn’t show that too much) nearly as old as the 5e Artificer itself. Picking a race wasn’t hard, from their mechanics to their lore, everything about Vedalken basically SCREAMS Artificer. And, it had to be Artillerist, because I wasn’t going to pass up a prime opportunity to recreate my favorite TF2 character.

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Tropos Leigong (he/him): Genasi (Air)/Sorcerer (Storm)

Background: Far Traveler (Mulhorand)

Reason: Wanderer

Personality Trait: I express affection or contempt in ways that are unfamiliar to others.

Personality Trait: I honor my deities through practices that are foreign to this land.

Ideal: Everything is new, but I have a thirst to learn.

Bond: My freedom is my most precious possession. I’ll never let anyone take it from me again.

Flaw: I consider the adherents of other gods to be deluded innocents at best or ignorant fools at worst.

Tropos began his life as a slave in Mulhorand. Known then only as Slave 2658, the young Air Genasi was an exotic, but otherwise unremarkable, servant. Until, as a young boy, he discovered he possessed an intriguing knack for creating electricity. Beaten harshly and put up for sale after one of his electrical surges injured his master Slave 2658 was quickly purchased by a local inventor who, intrigued by the boy’s abilities, put him to work as a power supply for his experiments, helping the old man achieve new heights of artifice. And so, Slave 2658 spent the next 10 years serving as the inventor’s living battery supplying power to his devices until his hands were blistered and scared from electrical burns. When he wasn’t being tortured for the artificer’s research, and his master had gone to bed, Slave 2658 spent his nights availing himself of the tinkerer’s library, teaching himself to read and learning all he could about whatever he could get his hands on. In time he began to dream of freedom, dream of the worlds depicted in the books he’d read, the world beyond the walls of his master’s workshop, even creating a name for himself that, for now, he could only call himself in secret, but, one day, hoped to be able to share with others.

His chance would come sooner than he ever could have imagined, as new leadership to Mulhorand would bring with it an end to slavery in the region. Freed of his shackles, Tropos, as he could now be called, ran far from his former master, far from Mulhorand, seeking new lands and new opportunities. Finally, a chance to explore a world that he’d only read about until now. As well, a chance to explore his own abilities, abilities which had, perhaps, been squandered by the artificer’s single-minded use for Tropos. Now, a chance to see what he is really capable of.

Another day, another character that wouldn’t have come together without Personality Traits, Ideals, Bonds, and Flaws. Why does WotC seem so opposed to them?

Anyway, I always love the idea of Sorcerers being player races (species) taken to their logical extremes (or counter-logical extremes in some cases): Verdan born from the whims of an eldritch chaos god? Aberrant Mind Sorcerer. Tiefling born of Infernal blood? Go the opposite direction with a Divine Soul Sorcerer. Half-genies with a powerful connection to the elemental planes? Storm Sorcery seems perfect for an extra Air-attuned Air Genasi (heck, even Crag the Earth Genasi being a Druid was just taking his connection to the land to a logical extreme). Granted, I first put this together back when all Air Genasi got was a free Levitate once a day and the ability to hold their breath indefinitely. Now that Monsters of the Multiverse is a thing, Genasi now have a lot more to play with. Free Shocking Grasp will certainly save you the Cantrip slot, though the Lightning Resistance feels a smidgeon redundant on this build? At least you’re getting it earlier than you would otherwise.

As I alluded to in the notes, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted this character to be until I started looking through the Backgrounds’ Personality Traits, etc. “ My freedom is my most precious possession. I’ll never let anyone take it from me again. ” The again in that sentence really caught my eye. Combine that with the fact that the Background mentions Mulhorand and it’s recent abolishment of slavery and I felt like I had something. A fledgling Sorcerer whose magic is abused to make him a living battery until the day his bonds are broken and he is free to make his own way. That should be fun dinner conversation if there are any Artificers in the party, or NPCs in town.

If there’s anything that I’m not thrilled about with this character, it’s that I was never able to come up with any sort of “goal” for him to be working towards alongside the main quest outside of . . . IDK, self-discovery? I know it’s not strictly necessary, but I like for my characters to have more personal goals on top of the main group’s goals. It gives them reasons for their actions and motivation to join up with other groups and other missions. Whether it nets you information, magic items, or just general capital to fuel your personal endeavor, if it justifies your becoming a member of the party, I say it’s well worth it. And yet, Tropos is as free and untethered as the wind. Which is . . . appropriate, I suppose. It just doesn’t offer as much to sink one’s teeth into. Something to consider in Session Zero. Perhaps you buddy up with one of the other characters as someone you met on your journey, and the reason you’re with the party is because they’re with the party and you’re with them?

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37818 “Watha Heel” (he/him): Warforged/Warlock (Hexblade)

Quirk: You often misread emotional cues.

Background: Custom

Personality Trait: I ask a lot of questions.

Personality Trait: I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.

Ideal: If you know yourself, there’s nothing left to know.

Bond: I’ve been searching my whole life for the answer to a certain question.

Flaw: I follow orders, even if I think they’re wrong.

As a soldier of the Great War, WF: 37818 was standard fare, he followed his orders without much thought and did as he was asked. But once the war ended, and the orders stopped coming, WF: 37818 was left confused and wondering what to do. He became curious. What do other beings do? What sort of being is a Warforged? Through years of wandering and independent research, both reading in libraries and attempting to ask those considered to be experts in the relevant fields of inquiry (at least, those willing to speak with him, most either ignored him or ran away) WF: 37818 had come to a few conclusions:

1st: When people recognize each other, they tend to call out their names to each other.

2nd: When some people see WF: 37818 they call out "Watha Heel?!" so that is likely his name.

3rd: There are significant differences between Constructs/Golems and living things, but which one Watha Heel is more like is not yet clear.

4th: A general consensus seems to be that living things have souls, but objects, constructs, and common machinery do not. Do Warforged have souls?

This last question was the one Watha was most determined to answer. Souls were often the subject of religious discussions, but religious functionaries couldn't seem to provide reliable answers as to whether he, specifically, had one. Watha determined that the ones most likely to know the answer would be those who traffic in souls, the deities and extra-planer rulers of the various rumored afterlives, where souls so often go. While there were not many documented means for contacting most of these entities, it seemed that there were many who contacted denizens of the Hells, exchanging souls for power. This would be the test, Watha would endeavor to sell his soul, whatever devil he contacted would likely be able to tell if he had a soul and would either accept or reject his proposal accordingly. So it was that Watha Heel made contact with Zariel, Archduchess of Avernus, where (sensing Watha's capacity for combat) she made him her Hexblade, a weapon guided by her hand. At last Watha had new orders: Become stronger, slay greater and more powerful foes, and (when he inevitably meets his demise) join in Zariel's perpetual war.

Watha set forth into the world with a new purpose. However, he was not the same Warforged he once was. He has now known freedom, a life outside of orders and commands. He has fostered his curiosity and found cause to explore himself and the world around him. Should Zariel’s orders not persist . . . who knows where Watha’s curiosity may lead him next?

What even is a Hexblade at this point, anymore? I mean, sure, you can still curse your enemies, drain their life force to replenish yourself, become nigh invulnerable to their attacks, and raise their newly slain souls as specters bound to your service, but does any of that even matter when any ol’ warlock can become a Hex Warrior regardless of their Patron? (I mean, for the most part. Pact of the Blade is . . . weird now)

I liked the idea of the classic “Warlock sells their soul for power” thing, but that seemed very Fiend-coded, and I really wanted to be a Hexblade (because . . . obviously). So, I think what I came up with was a decent compromise. Zariel might be an archdevil, but Watha is her weapon, to be honed in battle and, one day, fight in the Blood War alongside her. Now, though . . . if I hadn’t already created a Fiend Warlock, I’d probably just pivot Watha into being one with a Pact of the Blade.

As a fun fact: I’ve actually gotten to play Watha in a campaign before . . . for precisely one session. We played once, and then You-Know-What-19 came around and stopped the whole thing (don’t feel too bad for me, it was actually a dodged bullet).

I think the core trait to focus on for Watha would be “curiosity”. That and a profound lack of foresight when comes to exploring that curiosity (he sold his soul to an archdevil, purely to test if he even had a soul to begin with). High Charisma, decent Intelligence, and absolutely no Wisdom. Check every room, pull every lever, push every button, touch EVERYTHING! Your party might not be thrilled with you, but I’m sure the DM will love you for it.

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Hello!

So, it’s been a year, and …

I’m working on it. Got a lot of ideas I’m really excited about that I can’t wait to share with all of you.

The last year’s just been … eventful. Good, but eventful. I’ll get into it more when I eventually return properly, but it’s been hard finding both time and motivation to write, but write I have been!

The main point of this is just to let anyone who’s been waiting for more know that more is coming. Eventually.

I just hate content creators who say something like “see you next week!” and then just disappear without a word. So, I just wanted to put out something so people know I’m here, I’m still working, and if I ever do decide to fully conclude this series, I’ll say something.

So, until then! Happy Halloween!

… hopefully it won’t take me a whole ‘nother year to put something out. 😖