Character 86 - Borgo Blackscale

Illustration by Luis Perez

Snakes. This week our random rolls really gave us the opportunity to get serpentine. We had a half-orc who follows the goddess of the naga and all things snake-like. He was big but not strong, hefty but not durable. Although touched by divine power at birth and the fact he at one point died really spoke to a divine class, his low wisdom made that impossible. We had to make do with a high intelligence and a high charisma. So to that end I kept to the basics and went with the sorcerer class. But how did I tie it all together? Let’s find out.

Borgo Blackscale

Borgo Blackscale was born to a small enclave of orcs living in the swamps of the Hooktongue Slough. His tribe had lived in the area for a few generations after fleeing Numeria. Upon their arrival they had come to follow a water naga who used the area they were dwelling as her summer home. If they served her she promised to protect them from the boggards and trolls that infested the area.

The orcs became a serpent cult, serving the naga and paying homage to the goddess of her kind, Nalinivati. Occasionally the naga would bring other followers, lost mainly, to the little village and one of these men would become Borgo’s father. When the half-orc was born he was blessed by the shaman and came into the world with a crack of divine energy.

The cult was pretty self-sufficient, most of what they needed could be found in the swamplands. The group would occasionally need to hire out to run off particularly foul beasts when the water naga was in her winter home, and a mercenary crew arranged to come through around that time every year. The band was small but effective and always dealt fairly with the orcs. Borgo was always keen on the mercenaries being able to travel where they wanted when they wanted, and he respected them for their fairness with his people.

Growing up Borgo wanted the freedom that the mercenaries had, although he quite misunderstood what kind of responsibility freedom meant. He wanted to be an outlaw like tales he heard of famous other ne’er-do-wells in the River Kingdoms. He even went so far as to rob a young wizard who was travelling the waterways near the swamp. But the use of violence to threaten another never sat right with him so he never told anyone although, he regrets it deeply.

Illustration by Luis Perez

On his fifteenth birthday Borgo was officially inducted into the cult. As all who had come before him, the rite of passage was a trial by snake bite. The snakes they use usually didn’t give more than an allergic-like reaction but Borgo went into shock and died. His passage over to the other side was brief, but long enough to give the boy – now a man – a new outlook on life. His emotional changes were also accompanied by physical changes, which included a patch of black scales on his chest.

Between being touched by Nalinivati at birth and his near death experience, something awakened inside of him. The touch of the serpent in his blood allowed him to force his will upon the world in strange new ways. When the water naga returned in the summer she found the young boy struggling to manifest his power and she trained him. She taught him that his powers came from within and showed him how best to force them into existence. For this Borgo would always love his mentor although he knew she would never reciprocate.

When she could teach him no more she suggest that he do as she did; head out into the world and explore, although never forget about home. So Borgo packed his things and made plans to set out into the world. His plan is to travel for a year and then return home and share his experiences.

So what became of your half-orc? What class did the he choose? How did he die? Why did he rob a spellcaster? Who was the mercenary that influenced him?

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The character illustration was created by the fine artist Luis Perez. You can find him on Twitter, Tumblr, and on Instagram at luisperezart. 

Character 38 - Pashani Graveson

A group of stats and some random information. A Garundi man from the mana wastes, one of three brothers, a twin. He’s physically quite capable but a bit of a simpleton. His true power lies in his force of personality. His good looks, his quick tongue, and the x-factor of good charisma. At his core, he is a man who is true unrepentant evil and a follower of the Demon Lord of lies, envy, and murder, Shax. But how does this all link together? What is the story behind these rolls? This is the story that I found hidden in this information.

Pashani Graveson

Alkenstar may be the most well-known settlement in the Mana Wastes but it’s not the only one. A handful of lone homesteads and small villages dot the blasted wasteland. Many of these villages don’t even have a name. The residents of these places are hiding from something or descendants of those who have run, everyone an outcast of some sort.

In one of these over glorified mud holes lived Hamanbari Screamingfall formerly of Rahadoum. Hamanbari fled with his wife from the atheistic county and its pure legion for the crime of having faith. Taking Sarenrae into his heart, the true believer was also a minister to a small secret flock of worshipers of the Dawnflower. He became little more than a subsistence farmer trying to survive the horrors of the Mana Wastes.

Blessed with one boy already when Hamanrabi found his wife pregnant again, this time with twins, the Garundi man was overjoyed. With three sons his family could make something more of the piece of land they had claimed near a small village. The midwife, also a medicine woman, was not so optimistic and told Hamanbari that something would go wrong with the birth. She told him she could feel it in her bones.

When the twins arrived one of them was still born, or so the midwife said. What really happened was the witch woman sensed a great evil in the child and strangled it with its own umbilical cord. The body of the nameless child was laid to rest in the ground behind the small farm house.

Late In the evening of that first night, after his wife had cried herself to sleep, Hamanbari heard crying coming from outside. He followed the sound toward the small grave, thinking of course he was just imagining it in his grief. When he arrived at the burial site of his stillborn son, the child was laying atop the mound and crying to the heavens, beside a hole from which he must have dug his way out of the ground. Hamanbari considered this a great miracle and the work of Sarenrae for his dedication.

Sarenrae, however, could not always look out for the family and the Mana Wastes are a dangerous place. Hamanbari died during an attack by one of the many mutated creatures that roam the wastelands. The three brothers Omanju, and the twins Neshari and Pashani moved with their mother to the city of Alkenstar. The boys’ mother, Immari, died a year later on the exact same day as their father, which also coincided with the birthday of the twins.

Omanju was young, but old enough to care for his young brothers. Taking up the dedication and faith of his father he worked at the church of Sarenrae and felt the touch of the Dawnflower in his heart. His training as a cleric left ample time for the twins to get themselves into trouble. The other priests always chalked it up to boys being boys.

Neshari was bright, some would say a genius, but more than a little naïve. Pashani on the other hand had problems keeping his numbers and letter straight, but he could still talk his twin into doing anything. The two seemed to always be up to something although Neshari usually received the blame as there was no way Pashani could come up with such ideas. As they aged Neshari’s intelligence caught the eye of Aleknstar City’s wizard and he began training, leaving Pashani the only brother without a path to the future.

Pashani continued to cause trouble through the city, although being a simpleton got him off the hook for most of it. What most people didn’t notice was the maliciousness in the young man’s eyes. One might even say the things he did were downright evil, but it was always brushed off, as he was perceived as too addle-brained to know better. His masterpiece was convincing a city guardsman that he should kill the man who had eyes for his wife. He would have gotten away with it as well, if his own twin had not seen through his charade.

Neshari helped capture his brother and helped the courts convict him of numerous crimes on the promise Pashani would be held as insane. This was a betrayal that Pashani would never forget, could never forgive. Swearing revenge, Pashani knew his time in prison would be short. He had secrets that even his twin didn’t know. Pashani had survived birth because he was ridden by a demon servitor of the mighty lord Shax. He had command of mystical abilities he never revealed that allowed him to twist the minds of others. His blood coursed not just with the taint of the abyss,  but with the wild magic of the Mana Wastes imparted by being buried in its soil.

Pashani bode his time in the insane asylum, surprisingly finding a like mind sociopath in one of the other inmates. When the time came he and his lover Isham Stoat, a multiple murderer, walked out the institution’s front door. They left a trail of dead guards and orderlies in their wake before vanishing into the city with plans to one day even the odds with Pashani’s twin.

This is the tale I came up with, but what was your tale? Who was this man? What are his goals? Why does he do what he does? Tell us your tale in the comments.

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Character Thirteen: Karas Vert

Growing up in poverty in a small town in Taldor was no easy life. Karas Vert was the only son of parents who worked the land for the local lord. Their home was little more than a small thatched hut on the outskirts of town with the other serfs. Karas was born premature and sickly, leaving his family to spend what little they did have on his care through most of his childhood. Every illness and disease that tore through the town struck the boy particularly hard.

In his early adolescence Karas showed some small magical talent. He was taken off to one of the many schools of magic that dot Taldor’s cities. But being poor from a small village in a school with aspiring wizards from families with money meant Karas was very often picked on and ridiculed especially because of his sickly appearance. The fact structured magic didn’t suit him well gave his aggressors even more fuel.

The only friend he found in his time away from home was a huntsmen who passed through town often. The hunter was reviled by the townsfolk, but he brought only the best skins and meats to the city. And when there were problems with wandering monsters the Hunter could be counted upon to wage war against the creatures. Karas was the hunter’s only friend, and the hunter Karas’.

What the town didn’t know was that the hunter was a discipline of war. He revered the ancient spirit of the apocalypse and in his heart he sought the end of the world. Karas learned from his friend that no one anywhere would ever look out for him. That surviving meant doing things by yourself for yourself. In the end the world would fall to ashes and it should do so sooner rather than later.

Karas accepted this and sought to dedicate himself to one of the horseman. On a moonless night in the shadows of a dead tree the hunter took Karas to commune. Karas was touched by the spirit of the Horseman and was chosen by pestilence to be his disciple. Karas’ weakened form a testament to his ability to survive the plagues his new master would bring upon the world.

As Karas furthered his teachings he began to feel the disease flow through him. His body still sickly looking but able to process even the worst illness the world had to offer. Pain too began to mean little to him as the foulness that flowed toughened his physical form to harm. His master called on him to spread his word and in doing so he would steal poultices and remedies from local healers. Forcing his masters will upon the world.

But even in his hate and anger Karas still sought acceptance. Always outside of society, in his heart he longed to be a part of it. For a year he forgot his vows to Pestilence and fell in love. Even the huntsman turned his back on his former protégé, calling him weak. But even love could not save him, when his touch began to sicken those around him. His lover growing rancid-smelling pustules at his caress. And once more Karas was alone.

Now saddled with the foul plague magic flowing through is viens. Karas must decide whether to head back into the embrace of the Horseman. Or seek to fight off this foulness and seek acceptance where he has never found any.