#redemption paladin

[owl-o]

my newest dnd character! Mordai Odyn...a reborn (tiefling) redemption paladin. im love him very much.

[shewolfofvilnius]

New Story: Sisters' Redemption

Redeemed Dark Urge asks the gods to save her sister's soul.

For almost a year I've wanted to do something with my first character, a redeemed Dark Urge named Sofija who became a Paladin in service to Selune.

She'd always felt that Orin had, even if unintentionally, been the secret heroine of her story, as it had been her partially freeing Durge from Bhaal's control and influence that had given her a second chance on life, caused her to meet Shadowheart, helped Durge fix the problem she started, and eventually get free of Bhaal forever.

Orin died in a bloody pile, a victim of Bhaal's cruelty, having never gotten a chance at redemption, and she'd felt this BITTERLY unfair. So, she asks for a prayer stone / memorial stone built for her sister as her only reward for saving the city (besides wildlands near Rivington she and Shadowheart had already been granted) and decides to pray for her sister's redemption, too. (I go over this in my 'I Feel Sorry for Orin' post)

In the fic, Redeemed F!Durge and Selunite Shadowheart are married, but do not interact within the fic. Mostly.

It's a short and sweet little 2k word one-shot.

Read on AO3 Full story below the fold

A cool breeze drifted through a secluded meadow adjacent to a forest; as dusk gave way to a new morning, the lands were situated about a days’ walk outside of the village of Rivington, itself a short distance from the sprawling city of Baldur’s Gate.

In the year since the defeat of the Illithid monstrosity called the ‘Netherbrain,’ Rivington itself had prospered immensely, to the point that leaders of the village’s government and the ruling Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate had even broached the subject of annexing Rivington and its holdings into Baldur’s Gate proper.

One such holding at the outermost edges of Rivington’s territory were the lands containing the forest and meadow, claimed as property by a couple serving in devoted service to the Moonmaiden, the goddess Selûne. The land had been gifted to two heroes in service of the realms.  

One, a cleric, had become known as an accomplished healer whose services frequently led her to travel as far away as a tenday’s journey to help those in need. 

She was joined by her wife, a paladin whose oath had originally been sworn as devotion but whom had felt an urgent calling to re-swear her oath as an Oath of Redemption Paladin instead, arriving on scene to deliver first and foremost forgiveness and mercy and atonement, to try to help those who could be helped, and to only ever harm or take life as a last result.  Sometimes justice must still be held, but it must always be in the hope that the one who had done wrong had hope to one day better themselves.

More commonly, the cleric and paladin were known as Shadowheart and Sofija, two of the decorated Heroes of Baldur’s Gate who had saved the whole of Faerûn from said Netherbrain, from the so-called “Absolute”, and from the peoples’ own fearful desire to hand power to tyrants in the name of safety. 

As gratitude for having saved the whole of creation, at least on this plane, the pair had been gifted a sprawling amount of land near Rivington, which had annexed the wildlands in order to ensure that Sofija and Shadowheart were always counted amongst their number and could call on the city when needed. In return, those seeking the services of the Lady of Silver were encouraged to visit the pair and to try to seek communion with the Moonmaiden from their retreat. 

As a bonus, for the area’s more druidic peoples, area rangers, etc., the mostly untamed wildlands meant far simpler communion with either the Oakfather, Silvanus, or to the goddess of the forest Mielikki.

Weeks earlier, those in the know had been shocked, even aghast. Orin the Red had been identified as one of the key masterminds of the conspiracy that had nearly destroyed the whole of Faerûn. She had been the chosen of Bhaal, the God of Murder. Why, in all of the heavens and all of the heavens, would the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate ask, nay, demand a stone of remembrance for one of the city’s greatest monsters. Even for a Redemption Paladin, this was considered a bold request.

As they had fussed and fought at Sofija’s lone request excluding the land which had been gifted, the heroic paladin’s request had been agreed upon with the sole condition: Explain the inscription that Sofija had requested. Wholly and fully.

Knowing that true redemption meant being forthright with the truth, she complied. The furor among the city’s surviving patriars and rulers upon hearing the explanation had been beyond aghast, beyond contempt. The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate had been the one who had doomed it in the first place. But they kept listening. She described how Bhaal’s compulsion really worked (affirmed by several including Ulder Ravengard who had received access to his son’s entire history of memories with Sofija before the battle). That even before Orin’s attack she had tried to fight but couldn’t. Bhaal had pushed Orin, manipulated her, to try to kill her sister in a fit of jealousy, for her to become the new chosen.

Except she had been put back together again. Had become the very FIRST person infected by the tadpoles, the first victim of her own plan.  Her memory had been utterly destroyed and she had been forced to start anew. She had, and with her life her own, had committed everything to stopping what she helped create. She’d met the woman who was now her wife. Led her away from the dark influences of the goddess Shar. Saved numerous people including the city’s presiding Archmage and its’ Grand Duke. Recovered Reithwin Town after a century of loss. Stopped a vampire from trying to ascend to just a step removed from godhood. Stopped the brain, and Gortash.

And then there had been Orin. She had tried everything to convince her sister to turn against Bhaal, but the influence of the God of Murder whispering in her head had been too strong. The compulsion too firm. An entire lifetime of brainwashing made manifest.

And in that moment, with Orin turned into an avatar of pure slaughter, Sofija had struck her sister down. So Bhaal struck her down. She had been saved only through divine intervention, she was sure of it, and from there, had let Selûne’s grace enter into her life. She also held a special reverence for Kelemvor, the reigning Lord of the Dead as well as Jergal, a former holder of the office who was said to still sometimes work in Kelemvor or Ao’s service but refused to elaborate further.

But whereas she had gotten a second chance, free of Bhaal’s lash and yoke, Orin never had.  Even though without Orin, Sofija never would have been freed from the God of Murder. Without Orin, Sofija would have never met her future wife; never would have saved Faerûn even after being the one to almost destroy it.  Sofija could live with them all thinking she was a monster, but her sister had been a victim – of Bhaal, of Sarevok, of her since the day she was born until the moment she died.  Even if it was just a prayer to Selûne and to Kelemvor and to whatever deities were in earshot, THAT was the only thing she wanted for her sister, the only thing she asked in exchange for a half-elf’s remaining lifetime of dedicated service and the deliverance of mercy.

Even when her friends had heard of Sofija’s involvement via Gortash, they’d stuck by her. Even if they had been furious. Irate. Ready to turn away, every single one stuck by her; hells, forgave her.  She had been granted two second chances Orin had not. One of escape, one of mercy. 

Orin was dead, escape in this life had not been an option. But that still left mercy, of forgiveness.

The Illithid Master Plan horrors and menace, and the Dead Three’s aims, had threatened the whole of cosmology.  Mystra had told her former Chosen, Gale Dekarios, as much herself.

So that’s what Sofija wanted. For saving the whole of everything that still was and ever could be within their domains.  For the people to acknowledge Orin had been a victim of Bhaal’s cruelty too. For forgiveness. Planted on her own land, where she could come and reflect and pray to the Moonmaiden or anyone else who might be listening. 

For others seeking redemption with the strengthened paladin to know exactly how far she was willing to extend that redemption. For one of the gods to take note that Orin had, even under a lifetime of the death grip of Bhaal, still somehow been the one who had truly saved them all, because she had saved Sofija and Sofija had finished the job.

So, the patriars relented. Nearly all of them had been forgiven of some injustice they had visited upon another at some time. Many had just been grateful not to currently be sporting tentacles and an intense craving for brains.  The monument stone was built. Sofija, whose strength and build now nearly rivalled even that of the daughter of Selûne herself, Dame Aylin, had left alone with the stone on the day it was completed. Her wife had been dispatched to Reithwin as one of the adult refugees they had aided was due to deliver a baby.  As the new life in Reithwin began to cry for the first time in Shadowheart’s arms, Sofija had placed the stone into the ground, having constructed a small frame around it to support its’ weight.

----

In Reithwin, with one final push, a new life had entered this world. Crying and screaming, Shadowheart had prepared a towel and began fussing over the infant while preparing to wash off the most immediate fluids. Another healthy delivery! Nothing gave the Cleric of Selûne greater joy than bringing new life into this world.

A short time later, the baby’s condition had been checked – “You have an incredible new daughter”, Shadowheart had told the parents.  The little girl, human like her parents (always be surprised for a surprise tiefling birth, a senior healer had once advised her), had her father's dark eyes and fair complexion, and a shock of light blonde hair atop her head. Curiously, both of her parents had dark hair, although for all she knew a grandparent or two had had lighter hair. Or sometimes the gods like a joke. Any further would be prying.

“Have you picked out a name for your daughter?” Shadowheart asked. Names were often personal, private things. It may be some time, but if parents already had an idea, it was always still easiest to get it recorded while the healers and clerics were present. As Shadowheart talked to the couple, a small idol to Selûne glowed with the faintest of silvery shimmering lights.

----

Days’ walk away, Sofija had begun the process of inserting Orin’s two weapons into the top of the stone. One, a shortsword, Crimson Mischief, had fit perfectly. Sofija quickly applied some of the sealing compound she had been instructed on how to make and use to permanently embed the weapon into the stone.  The second weapon, the dagger Bloodthirst, featured a curved blade design and a wide centre circle that had once housed one of the Netherstones, which Orin and her associates had used to control the brain. The second aperture in the stone had featured a wider opening. Tav once more placed the weapon into the rock, twisting and adjusting it’s fit to try to ensure it would stay secure while the sealant was place. Soon too the dagger became part of the rock.  Only the two weapons’ pommels would remain above the stone, her sister's cutting blades permanently blunted.

In the meadow, at the edge of the wild forest, Shadowheart’s wife worked diligently to apply a layer of polish and a coating to both clean and protect the stone, which had gotten slightly scuffed in transit, against the elements as well as time.  She then took to polishing the protrusions from the now-embedded weapons. Upon cleaning the polish, the Paladin began crying after being once more hit by a wave of grief, followed almost immediately by resolute prayer.

“Moonmaiden, hear me. Kelemvor, God of the Dead, I ask your favour too at the recommendation of your seneschal. Mystra, Lady of Magic, hear my request. Oakfather, may you take this to heart within nature’s bounty. Mielikki, goddess of the forest and of rangers, may you put this prayer to the winds and see that it is answered. As I was forgiven, I ask you now, hear me. Forgive my sister, she who was Orin the Red. Please, I beseech you.

----

The parents of the baby Shadowheart had handed to them had given it thought. The girl’s father had been present the day Sofija had made the request, having come to the city to make a final run for supplies and to fetch Shadowheart, who had already become a renowned healer.  The man had in fact been Zhentarim and had only avoided death at Sofija’s own hand due to his having gone out on a date the night before – with a refugee woman no less - and having decided that her company beat a raid of the Thieves’ Guild. He had quickly realized he loved her and had picked that moment as his new “Day 0”.  Never again would he be that violent mercenary. If the Gods allow it, never again to his dying breath.

To the point his last words out of town when he left to be with the mother of his child had been asking Sofija to help grant him redemption and to be the best patriarch of his new family he could be. She had rushed over to him and granted it, willingly, a white glow even briefly enveloping him as both Sofija and Shadowheart had then offered a spell for protection on the way out.

“Tell your wife, we’re going to name our girl after her sister.” The girl’s father had noted, Shadowheart’s eyes threatening to redden with tears.  “She’s right, every name deserves a second chance. Tell her we’ve named our daughter Orin. May THIS Orin know love, all her life.

Shadowheart could have almost sworn she had heard a book close with a start. The healer and cleric embraced them both, clearly moved profoundly at the gesture.

--------------

Sofija looked upon the completed monument.  Upon the stone, running across nearly it's entire vertical and horizonal legnths were a series of small markings condensed to fit into the space. An epitaph. A prayer. A request.

Orin, My Sister 1469 - 1492 May you know true peace in the life ahead; May my goddess claim you as her own. Without you, I would have nothing. As in your pain, I was born anew, May the light of the Moonmaiden Shine upon the one who saved me, and grant her a second chance. With love. Sofija.

[babybluesquid]

“I don’t need to possess life myself to protect it.”

[maydaymadier]

1am and obsessed with redemption paladins

[fernrisulfr]

Ripsnarl

Actually my second lizardfolk named Ripsnarl as a concept, but the first to see the light of day. This is the most recent game I joined, and the last of the fully formed “used” character concepts. There’s a few others after this that either turned out to be poorly formed ideas I used for one-shots, or ones that despite being used never really went beyond their concept.  Ripsnarl - Barbarian (Level 1), Oath of Redemption Paladin (Level 3) Outlander - Lizardfolk - Chaotic Neutral

Backstory Used: When he was young he had been an energetic child with a fierce temper. More than a few fights had started because his mood turned foul, yet he was rarely told off for it because he always won. As he grew older instead of being admonished for his fury, he was praised for his passion and strength, for persistence and ferocity that saw him the victor of many bouts. He quickly grew prideful, not so much harnessing his rage as allowing it to control him. When the time of his trial drew near, he began boasting, claiming to all who would listen how he'd single handedly take down a Mishipishu. On the day of the trial, dripping with bravado he sauntered into the jungle…and got a great deal more than he bargained for. He would return later battered, bleeding, and with little more than a Brahmin  to show for it. For all his boasting he had not been up to the task, as several among the tribe would remind him over the years. Did he look inward and reflect on his pride? Of course not. Instead he grew bitter and angry at those whom reminded him of his failure. Some years later, another Kitarsh made the same claims as he had. Not boastfully however, and worse yet they seemed likely to succeed. His pride couldn't take that. If another succeeded where he had failed, truly he'd never hear the end of it!...but what if they didn't? If he wasn't alone in his failure, surely that would shut them up. So it was he devised a plan, and when the day of the Kitarsh's trial came, he sabotaged them. He'd expected the child to return as he had. Instead they didn't return at all. They died, because of him. His rage and pride had caused him to end a life in a manner both cowardly and dishonourable. Guilt ate away at him for months. Until one day he overheard Salphas speaking to the children, telling them tales of the empire and answering their questions. This was how he first learned of knights, of the warriors clad in metal armor, travelling the land righting wrongs. His understanding at this time was the same as the children, thus he  saw the sort of deeds that could let him make amends for the death he'd caused. Venturing into the jungle he hunted for three days, gathering pelts, fashioning bones into trinkets, all so he could trade them at the nearest Empire village. With some difficulty he obtained a set of chainmail armor, like the knights wore, and an axe with a dark curved head. It wasn't till some time later he found out it was a woodcutters axe. From then on, like a child playing pretend he went about the village and jungle making a right ass of himself. Whenever his actions were questioned he grew angry, simply believing they didn't understand. It was he who didn't understand. That became abundantly clear when he met a real knight…a Paladin. He'd been making a fool of himself "saving" some of his people from a hunt gone wrong when she arrived. He never caught her name, all he knew was that she was a guard for a caravan bound for the village. She'd stepped in to help, and gave him a right earful afterwards about the dignity of a knight, and how he was making a mockery of it. Metal armor didn't make him a knight. It didn't make him virtuous , nor erase the sins of the past. He didn't simply need to make amends, but redeem himself in the eyes of his people, and most of all his own. It was after this he would learn of Sang Ferro, a knight usually depicted in full armor, but known to cast it aside and sacrifice the self for the sake of others. In time he would see the first steps of the path he must walk, and swear his oath to the knight stripped bare. Recently he overheard the Chieftain speaking to a party of outsiders. They delivered warning that the Blessed Beast was on a rampage, and their intent to fight it. This was a chance to aid those who had helped his people, and indeed help the tribe itself. Not because it would show his strength, but because it was the right thing to do. Backstory Abridged: Short temper since childhood. The sort of kid that snaps easily and starts fights. Was however praised for it because he won those fights, and continued to be praised for it as he grew, his rage being seen as a positive rather than a negative. Didn't so much harness his rage as he let it control him. Became prideful, boastful. Before his trial he boasted about exactly what he was going to fight (something strong and very much ill advised). Instead he got his ass kicked, didn't return empty handed (grabbed something more "normal") and thus returned battered and with very little to show for it. Likely wasn't publicly ridiculed, but likely one or two individuals would bring it up now and again jokingly or against him. Got mad, but rather than at himself chose to blame and get mad at others for not letting his failure go. Some time later, probably years, another made the same claim about what they'd defeat, but not boastfully, and worse yet they seemed like they could actually do it. His pride couldn't take it, and so he devised a plan. He sabotaged the youth to make sure they'd fail, expecting them to returned battered with nothing to show for it as he had. They died, because of him. His rage and pride had caused him to end a life in a manner both cowardly and dishonourable. At some point he heard about the Knights/Paladins from Salphas or another trader, and understood it as a child understands the world around him. The concept foreign, he merely thought of them as "warriors oh honor in metal armor who right wrongs". Clearly this would let him make amends for his actions. He hunted, gathered pelts and fashioned bones into trinkets. Travelled far afield to the nearest empire settlement and used his goods to acquire armor. Chainmail and an axe (it was probably a wood cutters axe). He donned it, and proceeded to make an ass of himself around the Marsh for several more years. Whenever questioned about his activities responded with anger, believing they simply didn't understand. Eventually he was either spoken to be an Elder, encountered a real knight who had something to say about his mockery, or screwed up enough to realize what he was doing. Metal armor didn't make him a knight. It didn't make him virtuous , nor erase the sins of the past. He didn't simply need to make amends, but redeem himself in the eyes of his people, and most of all his own. It was after this he swore his oath to Sang Ferro, a knight usually depicted in full armor, but known to cast it aside and sacrifice the self for the sake of others. 

Additional Information: • The lizardfolk are a semi-nomadic tribe with a hunter-warrior society and a religious aversion to metal, believing it is desecrating the bones of one of their principle goddesses. They are isolationists but have no issues with outsiders who have proven trustworthy. Only a handful of them have contact with the world outside the Havenrock valley, mostly a single trader who is thought to be very 'odd'. • Majddaear, the Gardener of Death. A matronly goddess of nature and death who loves all creatures equally from intelligent races to lowly insects. (Goddess they believe metal to be the bones of) • While perhaps an odd choice for a lizardfolk, one of the gods in the pantheon who might fit your tenets is Sang Ferro, the Protector. He is a god of strength, justice, war, and mercy popular among paladins in the Ocymian Empire. Though usually depicted as an empty set of fullplate, he is also sometimes shown as a man riddled with scars and open wounds. (edited) • Hence why he may be an odd choice, but the secondary aspect of self sacrifice rather than that of the invincible armored warrior might be what calls to you. • The lizardfolk were initially wary, but after the party assisted the chieftain's daughter with her coming-of-age trial and stopped an undead suit of armor that had been rampaging across their hunting grounds, the party was accepted as friends of the lizardfolk and an exchange of craftsmen has started between the town and the village. •  Lizardfolk who revers his ancestors, calls upon their strength in times of need, and is wholey convinced those ancestors are dinosaurs • They actually mostly speak a simplistic dialect of draconic and only a handful speak common or other tongues. • Anger issues. Killed his brother in the womb. Committed some kind of crime for which he needs to be redeemed. • May also work if whatever I'm redeeming involves an offense to Majddaear involving metal, with the unarmoured version of Sang Ferro being seen as casting metal aside in self sacrifice. • Sang Ferro's symbol is that of a bleeding hand catching the blade of a sword. • Tilts head and does a lizard tongue flick when confused.

3-5 Rumors about: • Rumor (False) - His "Knight Phase" was caused Tevici who had placed a curse on him which still lingers. Several variations on what he did to be cursed exist. • Rumor (False) - He actively worships Tevici. (Likely started due to the previous rumor, and most not knowing much about Sang Ferro) • Rumor (False) - The Brahmin he brought back during his trial was actually killed by the Mishipishu, and he simply grabbed it while running away. • Rumor (True) - The scars on his face weren't caused in battle, but because he fell out of a tree once as a child. He dies this. • Rumor (Partially true) - He was cowed by a human without putting up a fight. (This was the Paladin who told him off.)

People Known: • Lehkraskol - Female Lizardfolk: Clutch Sister. 5'10, Grey Scales, Brown eyes, lithe. Crafter and Artisan, specializes in creating things for ceremonial purpose or trade. She loves making small knives and tools out of bones. She considers everyone else as idiots. One of the people who never let Ripsnarl forget about his failure during the trial. During her trial went out and found materials that made for better paints.   • Orguak - Female Lizardfolk: Clutch Sister. 6'7, Brown Scales, Brown eyes, spiked crest, muscular. Warrior. Appears emotionally distant, but is internally rather emotional for a Lizardfolk. Will never say no to a duel, but is extremely clumsy outside of combat. Often sparred with Ripsnarl as children and as adults. • Volok - Male Lizardfolk: Clutch Brother. 6'3, Very Dark Green Scales, Brown Eyes, boney crest, sunken breastbone, broken snout. Hunter. Calculating, but lazy. Quotes proverbs, always says them wrong. Brought up Ripsnarl's failure whenever he was losing an argument. Ripsnarl is responsible for his broken snout. • Tulvir - Male Lizardfolk: Clutch Brother. 6'1, Emerald Scales, Red Eyes, Large Crest,  "lip piercings". Shaman. He never acts on impulse. Constantly looks for the loophole. Has learned to laugh by observation, but still doesn't understand humor. • Urthok - Male Lizardfolk: 7'2, Brown Scales, Yellow eyes, Hulking build, tattooed. Another one of the people who never let Ripsnarl forget about his failure during the trial. Fights with him often. Physically very strong, but little else. Short tempered. One sided Rivalry. • Ludryrth - Female Lizardfolk: 6'1, Emerald Scales, Brown Eyes, smooth head, lean, often squints. Practical and detail oriented. One of those in charge of tending to the wounded. Frequently tended to Ripsnarl's. Familiar face. • Vurant - Male Lizardfolk: 6'5, Brown Scales, Blue Eyes, Square head, bristled scales. Warrior and Former friend. Previously frequent sparring partner. Aggressive, but even tempered. He has a hard time understanding other humanoids' emotions. Doesn't care about risks or odds. Was very confused when Ripsnarl began "playing knight" and after several failed attempts trying to force him out of it, began distancing himself. • Thadragar - Male Lizardfolk: 6'3, Emerald Scales, Black Eyes, skinny, missing left leg. Former Hunter, Current Butcher. He has no self-confidence. Prefers swimming to walking. Spends every morning training. One of those Ripsnarl "rescued" during his knightly phase. Actually did save his life, but not his leg which had to be removed. Still confused by Ripsnarl's choices, but thankful for the rescue. Was the one who made Ripsnarl's mantle. • Unknown Paladin - Female "Humanoid" - 5'8, Pale skin, Red Hair (Braided) , Brown Eyes, squared jaw. Paladin that told him off about his "mockery" of knights. Doesn't know her name or actual race, just that she looked human. Stern at first meeting. Clearly has strong opinions about how Knights/Paladins should be presented. Didn't hesitate to try and help someone even while already on a job. Hasn't seen her since. • Mimay Brandywood - Female Halfling - 3'4, tan, apple shaped face. Diplomat or Merchant. Slightly colourblind. Keeps several birds. Usually arrives with the Caravan when there have been disputes between the merchants and the tribe. Likes to talk with the Lizardfolk individually to sus out what they want on average. Took a particular interest in Ripsnarl due to his odd requests in recent years.   • Doran Mournhill - Male Human: 5'7, tall and lean, dark skin, green eyes, short straight black hair. Merchant that Ripsnarl bought the armor and axe from. Didn't know him very well, but will never forget him. Very polite and respectful way of speaking, and a regal look to him. 

Timeline Notes:

• Killed brother in the womb. (Scrap. Lizardfolk lay eggs. Needlessly violent.) • Child with an aggressive and short temper. • Frequently got into fights but was either praised for it, or got off lightly when he went too far. • Something about what he did during his "trial" trying to prove himself? • Possibly involves their aversion to metal (averse to it, but not forbidden. Something more extreme?) • Did something Dishonourable. • Climax?? • Regret + Guilt = Seek Redemption • Found in Sang Ferro • Learned from Merchant Salphas? Or possibly travelled out of the Valley?

Appearance: 6′7, 245 lbs. Pale Green Eyes. Green scales so dark they’re almost black (more a blue-green). Several small scars under his right eye going down his muzzle. Very broadly built, arms slightly longer than normal. Doesn’t wear armor, but does wear a fur and leather mantle, the skull of a large saber toothed cat on his right shoulder. Has a slightly drooping central crest running down the middle of his head and down his back, spikes running on either side, and a pair of finned ear like protrusions. Kinda looks like a cross between a Cuban Iguana and a Water Monitor Lizard. Aside from the mantle he wears a loincloth, as well as foot and hand wraps. 

[chikkenhawke]

hunter's moon

[backonrepeat]

Asmodeus is one of my favourite Big Bads to use as a DM, so I can't tell you how incredibly happy I am that Brennan seems to have adopted him as his particular Critical Role blorbo, and plays him with such gusto.

His Asmodeus in Calamity was absolute perfection, and the confrontation with Zerxus remains one of my favourite CR scenes ever.

Now with Downfall, BLM keeps on building Asmodeus and showing more sides of him and I'm eating it all up:

- We have confirmation that, exactly as Zerxus claimed, he was not always as he is now. He actually saved the Gods during the escape!

- Him and Serenrae had... something going on, and are now giving mad divorced energy

- His avatar is the oldest, so either he was the first to volunteer to go squash aeorians, or he had some other nefarious plot going on

- He is posing as a priest of PELOR, because his pettiness is eternal

- "Hello, family!" This bitch is LIVING for the drama

- Not created by Brennan, but... Love the fact that Asmodeus seems to collect beefy paladins like they are pokemon

[arathir-starsong]

Vesper DeVir - Dark Elf Paladin - Oath of Redemption - Chaotic Good

Art by the wonderful n8dl3!

Vesper here is one of the focal NPCs of a game I've been running for a few months! My group talked about being followers of a "main character" NPC they have to support & protect, and Vesper came about as a result. More under the cut!

Knight Initiate Vesper DeVir is a knight-in-training of the Order of the Rose, a knightly order in the cosmopolitan city of Revelmoore. She is a Szarkai; an albino drow whose births are heralded as blessings in traditional dark elven society.

Once an ordained priestess of the malevolent spider goddess of the drow, Lolth, Vesper fled her people and fought for her own survival as a member of the crime syndicate known as the Black Network.

However, ties were severed after her chapter of the network fell apart, and she resorted to living as a hermit in the vast dungeon known as the Undermountain. She would eventually run into a pair of adventurers named Contrast and Makoto, and by traveling with them she came to terms with her past and awakened to a new faith in the goddess Desna.

Now a chosen of Desna and a knight in training, Vesper hopes to save her people from Lolth's oppression one soul at a time. Even as she is hounded by the eternally enraged revenant form of her former lover, Urstul Floxin, she maintains a calm and positive demeanor that carries her through her difficult trials; while still maintaining a cynical wit.

[justaz]

all this was to say that lance had the perfect set up for a deep, beautiful character arc but…well. we all know what happened. he’s arrogant, overconfident, and cocky and this ends up with him making mistakes and costing his team a pretty run with the flight sim. yet you can see in that episode with the yupper that lance has a deep insecurity that he buries and hides under smirks and quips and a whole lotta pride. (they also could’ve tied it to his family as well since they gave him multiple siblings which would’ve overshadowed his accomplishments which is the root of him striving for greatness and perfection so much that he gets tunnel vision and his team pays the price, but i digress.) with his competition/rivalry with keith, the star student who is effortlessly talented, it would’ve been beautiful for them to be equals as coleaders without them realizing. it wasn’t a conscious decision for either of them but lance’s little line from the first episode had more truth than he realized - “lance and keith, neck and neck”.

and then to lose that along with himself when kuron takes control of the team, to watch him struggle and flounder and fall deeper into his insecurities, his pride and ego wounded so much that he is unsure of his every move, his every word, his every breath. it would’ve been PERFECT for him to figure out that kuron was a clone and that the team was under galran command. lance being forced into the leadership role, much like keith was, and having to make decisions and choices for the team as black paladin - still being so unsure of what he’s doing and if it’s right. he full heartedly believes that the team needs keith back, they can’t do this without him, but keith is on the space whale and no one can get ahold of him so it’s up to lance. lance who slowly heals the deep wound within him that has him believing that he’ll never be good enough and grows his confidence back on solid ground. lance who becomes steady and sure of himself and leads the team almost effortlessly.

all this paralleling keith’s character arc which (ofc) happened off screen in canon. keith who was restless and explosive for years bc he never had a mother, his father died when he was young, he was bounced around from foster home to foster home, and once he found a permanent home, shiro goes missing and is presumed dead. keith who is constantly searching for something he can’t name and finding his mother and is forced to be with her for two years while glimpsing the past and future. keith seeing his parents meet and fall in love, watching as his mother practically tore herself apart inside as she left him and his father behind - feeling a piece of him settle within at the sight. she didn’t want to leave, she would’ve given anything to stay. watching his father and shiro raise him, their love unconditional until the day they left. krolia watching little keith rage at the injustice and being there for his older self and healing those wounds. settling every restless piece within him until he became the man who stepped back onto the castleship with a space wolf, an altean, and his alien mom.

keith and lance finding a shred of stability with one another as coleaders of voltron and best friends since they definitely grew closer during s3. they were attached at the hip, they did everything together, the line between platonic and romantic blurred so much that it wasn’t even there anymore, it was just them. but it was unhealthy how close they were, how dependent they were on one another. only to be torn apart and with their unhealthy codependency, they completely fall apart without the other there so theyre forced to rebuild the foundations of their beings. lance crumbles all alone as he and the team become distant and he rebuilds as black paladin. keith crumbles alone at the blade hopping from mission to mission and rebuilds on the space whale with his mother.

steady keith and lance meeting almost like for the first time after lance and the team took out kuron and keith and krolia found a hidden altea. together they turn on lotor and take him down too. since kuron has already been dealt with, lotor didn’t get away and all that other shit in canon didn’t happen so they get to remain in space until they take the empire completely. allura places shiro into the clone’s body and meets romelle and talks of freeing the hidden altea after the war is over and theyre not at risk anymore. keith and lance are unsure of how to proceed with the whole leader thing but there again pops up the coleader resolution. as steadier, mature versions of themselves, keith has really stepped into the black paladin position while lance had always been more suited for red. keith and lance, leader and his right hand, but they’re equals. theres no competition, no rivalry, no jealousy or envy, just respect and love.

[salokorai]

Another new child drop from my side: Hanariel Schilftanz... IF that is her real name????

They're a changeling and go by a ton of names and usually pick out a shape that fits the occasion and they are genderfluid. They are also an assassin and usually like to collect the shapes of those that they kill. But Hanariel is such a sweetheart! It's the shape that she is currently working with in the small campaign which we have just started playing. The other players already know that Hanariel is a changeling but they don't really know her story and relationship to her shapes and such just yet and I am excited to have them find out!

[highway-stars]

Layout practice with my cleric pushing the paladin from the old campaign a little too far. Don't let him get to you buddy !

[dandelion-bride]

Headcanon chat: so, pursuant to a previous post regarding how difficult it would be to redeem Gortash from Bane, I wanted to explore what that might look like. What does a Banite Crisis of Faith look like? What does Bane give Gortash?

Security. Bane has Rules and Gortash can Follow Them. Similar to Raphael, there is a strict hierarchy to follow. There is Hierarchy, Consistency, Order. The world is drawn in a simple black and white, and as long as he is ruthless enough to ink those black lines, he is safe.

The Ability to Support his Partner. The Dark Urge has no choice in their path - they kill by their own will, or they become a mindless feral creature, killing and spawning. Bane gives the power for Gortash to enable the Dark Urge to succeed in their 'sacrifice the world' quest.

The Only Choice. No one has saved this boy, no one has cracked the shell and been able to hold a hand out to save the man. All he knows is power. His one equal connection is just as damned as he is. He is the Chosen of Bane, the Lord of Tyranny, the God of Darkness. He can see no other path.

If the Dark Urge is dead, we don't have to deal with #2, but we also lose the one equal connection Gortash has ever forged, and now we need to recast one, possibly while dealing with repressed grief. On the other hand, if the Dark Urge rejects Bhaal, #2 is no longer an issue.

For #1, there are plenty of Lawful deities. I saw someone (feel free to chime in!) who talked an AU about little Enver being sent off to the House of Wonders as an apprentice for the Gondians. He would have thrived there. After his fuckery at the Foundry and Iron Throne? Ehhh not so much.

But you need to find a lawful deity who would accept him now. Someone who could look past the past, who could agree to take in the former Banite, protect and support him, as he turns his face from a dark past towards the dawn of a bright future. Someone whose statues show him stepping on a skull, to show he can conquer Death.

Look, all I'm saying is that "I shall let all who dwell in dark feel your holy dawn, Morninglord. Hear my prayer." sounds like it could be rewritten into a very appropriate Paladin oath. Especially if the Dead Three are on their last legs at the end of the game and potentially killable by mortals.

[babybluesquid]

"Because you're alive and you're worth protecting." Analysis.

To Dagne, this line pretty much encapsulates their views on the Blood of Vol. There is a lot of range in Seeker values, some trying only to protect themselves, most their close circle or local community, or, rarely, all other Seekers. Trying to protect everyone alive is a stupid wide range, which makes Dagne a paragon. Most Seekers would not risk themselves to save a cultist of the Dragon Below from the dark powers they worship. Dagne is exceptional.

And this is consistent too. Every fight with living people, Dagne has ordered the party to use nonlethal damage. We have killed one person in ten sessions, and Nux did it accidentally with the Shatter spell. But even though Nux has killed someone, their life is still incredibly valuable, they still deserve Dagne's protection. Dagne has killed so many people in The Last War they can't even remember, both before they lost their memory and afterwards. Additionally, Dagne is undead, they do not possess the divinity within, which is unique to the living. Dagne cannot hope to reach Seeker salvation, godhood. But Nux could. They can save Nux from Kyrizn and give them a chance. An ultimately hopeless chance, but the Blood of Vol is all about community support giving people hope in the face of hopelessness. Dagne is trying to give Nux hope.

To Nux, someone who was raised in a whisperer cult in the Shadow Marches, nobody has even once acknowledged that their life is valuable. The cult intended to sacrifice them to Kyrizn, and their warlock pact was actually created to tie them to it pre-sacrifice. To the cult, Nux's death was the valuable thing. When Dagne told them this, they'd just been to the Sacrament of Blood, a Seeker ritual of donating a bit of blood to the temple. Dagne had prevented them from giving blood, saying they were too young. Nux shouldn't have to sacrifice. They're just a kid.

Nux came to Karrnath with no support. They were self-reliant as they discovered terrifying warlock powers and feared the cult was coming after them. Instead, they found Dagne, and tried to steal from them. When they were caught, instead of retaliating, Dagne wanted to send the kid home. When they told Dagne home was in the Shadow Marches, they, instead of just letting them go off, decided to stick by Nux and keep them safe. Dagne has shown, from the beginning, that their only intention was to keep Nux safe. They get nothing material out of it. This is something Nux didn't understand until Dagne outright stated it.

[eternallog]

Have I been this way before?

-

Kiki, my beloved dark urge!! Sorcerer/Paladin

King of charisma, really chill and honest guy with the creepiest grey eyes you've seen D:

[fernrisulfr]

Griel Clovermoss

Griel Clovermoss (Barbarian 10/Paladin 3) Barbarian (Wild Soul) - Outlander- Firbolg - Chaotic/Good -

Once belonged to a clan of peaceful Firbolg living in seclusion deep within the forest. One morning a creeping red moss was found at the edge of the village. With time it slowly spread across the village, not only across the trees and huts, but the people. It drove the Firbolgs afflicted by it into a state of madness and rage, until they quite literally tore the village and themselves to pieces. Was hidden by a parental figure by locking them in a storage cellar. Was able to watch the massacre happen through a gap in the cellar door. Was eventually infected by the mold as well and broke out of the cellar, only to find everyone else in the village already dead either by the hands of another, or succumbing to their wounds. Being too young and weak to cause much harm, but old enough to take care of himself (at least without dying), eventually acclimated to the moss enough to keep from a constant state of blind rage. Has several red markings that at first glance appear to be tattoos or warpaint, but are in fact the moss still growing on his body. Moss begins glowing whenever he enters a rage. Moss seems to have disrupted the natural magics of his feyblood causing them to become unstable. Stands at 7'4 to 7'7, covered in a sort of mold coloured grey-green fur, darkish not quite black hair, brown/amber eyes, kinda on the gaungly side at first glance but is actually lean/wirey muscle. Wears an assembly of leather straps over his torso, and a furred kilt.

Backstory Used: Born in deep within the Forgotten Forest, in the secluded Firbolg village of Autumnbreeze, Griel had what would be considered a fairly normal childhoood; until about the end of his first decade when the moss came. The villagers barely noticed it at first, an odd red moss growing upon the trees and stones at the edges of the village. Given time however, it spread to the buildings, and inevitably the people. That was when the nights of red started. The village bellowed with rage, it's people consumed by a frenzied madness. It wasn't long before they tore themselves apart...quite literally. Griel only survived because his mother locked him tight within the cellar when the violence began. Being locked away didn't prevent him from hearing the carnage however, nor prevent the moss from reaching him as well. Just a child, by the time he broke free from his confines...it was over. Nothing but bloody bodies and moss for miles. Old enough to survive, but not old enough to leave, and tormented by the madness of the moss, Griel remained in Autumnbreeze for years. With time, as the moss spread over his body, Griel grew accustomed to the rage, learned to channel it, use it for his own ends. Often he spoke with the moss, not that it was capable of replying. He didn't know where it came from, or what it really was, but in that time, it was his only friend.

Party Backstory:

"The three of you were brought together by the murder of the lord of the city state of Iraebor by an assassin. You spent almost a year tracking this assassin and just recently captured the villain and returned them to Iraebor for justice. Unfortunately, you also learned that this villain was a member of an imfamous band of halfling assassins called the "Skywatch Assassins". These assassins are responsible for many of the most gruesome murders across Faerun, but are difficult to track because they have a hideout in some sort of flying castle (allegedly).  Worse yet their leader, one Arissa Skywatch evidently has access to some sort of powerful magic that enables the assassins to travel through any mirror like it was a teleportation circle.  Its even rumored the leader enslaved a dragon and uses it as both a guardian and to eliminate any rivals. You set out immediately to end these assassins reign of terror (even if Fray claimed the cookie crumbs indicated it wasn't a good idea...).  Your parties other wizard, Alexa, while annoying is very good at what she does, and discovered a way to make use of this mirror portal to gain entry into the heart of the enemy's stronghold.  So you set off to strike a decisive blow and end these assassins! Unfortunately that's when it all started going wrong.  When you arrived instead of finding bands of blood thirsty assassins you found a strangely twitchy gentle looking scholar with a dwarf apprentice who was practicing casting cantrips.  Nearby you saw some sort of well dressed simpleton making stacks of books (some of which were impressively tall). Suspecting a trap you decide to take these people captive to get more information on what was happening here, but unfortunately Alexa (your wizard) picked that moment to trip over a bucket in the hallway...  Your prey fled, and obviously were very familiar with the castle because they were quite hard to follow.  Eventually you chased them onto the rooftop battlements where they were trapped (but somewhere along the way the simple one who had been stacking books disappeared).   Unfortunately they didn't want to talk.... The scholar transformed right before your eyes into some strange manlike rat beast (lycanthrope) and the dwarf apprentice begin throwing a seemingly unending number of simple (and very weak) fire bolt cantrips at you. Needless to say the fight was laughable if not short.  You got a couple of scrapes and minor burns but nothing like what you had expected from a band of world class assassins. It was gonna be easy to finish these amateurs off, but just before you finish subduing them (your gnome cleric was literally in the process of tying up the unconscious dwarf lady and the lycanthrope was already very dead...) you heard the beating of great wings and then a terrifying roar. Out of the mists of the clouds a great emerald dragon emerged. 6 seconds later your entire party is either dead or dying (or at least feeling like they are dying) as the dragons poison breath covers the battlements.  Even the bravest of you is filled with terror.  The dragon landed right atop your gnome cleric and new prisoner turning them both to a bloody smear under its giant claw.  Then as suddenly as it appeared the dragon flew away - leaving you coughing and retching on the ceiling. Stunned and badily inured you search for survivors - your cleric is clearly gone, as is the dwarf lady and the lycanthrope.  You ranger is just gone (you saw his dead body being tossed off the flying castle by the torando like winds from the dragons great wings as it took off).  There is nothing but a puddle of greyish goo where your wizard had been standing. (you all start on the flying castle battlements at 1/2 your health) - and that's where you'll meet the others. "

Died to a sudden Green Dragon attack. Fray cast Darkness. Unclear what happened following. Ranger attempted to abandon the group. Went over the edge, Wizard, Ranger, Cleric died.

Possible Multi-Class Options: - Fighter (Battle Master) - Monk (Mercy or Shadow) - Paladin (Ancients or Redemption)

Previous Party Composition (For backstory): Griel - Firbolg - Barbarian - Path of Wild Magic Fray - Assimar - Sorcerer - Shadow Soul Tobara - Paladin (of Selune) - Oath of Devotion Alex - Wizard - Human Breelin - Cleric - Gnome Guy - Ranger - Half-Elf

Current Party Composition: Griel - Barbarian - Path of Wild Magic Fray - Sorcerer - Shadow Soul Tobara - Paladin - Devotion

Personalty Trait - - VERY low standards when it comes to if food tastes good. - Prone to be incredibly brutal when killing. - Will unfalteringly try to sacrifice himself in someone's place if a sacrifice is unavoidable. 

Likes - - Rain - Quiet Places - Nature at peace - Things made of wood Dislikes - - Doesn't like large crowds (10+ people). - Anyone who'd harm those he cares about - Those that try to remove the mold - People who under value their loved ones Habits - - Uncomfortable around wealth. - Talks to mold. - More to polite to plants than people - Uses Anger Management Techniques - Does something along the lines of "meditation" in the morning. - Sensitive to noises. - Responds to Beasts by acting like a Beast back. Misc - - Griel knows how to preserve food - Mixed feelings on the mold - Mold glows Red when he Rages, as do his eyes. Spores float over the patch. - Child-level understandings of the basics of things. - Protective of the mold - Doesn't understand religion. - Afraid of Sunflowers because they look like Phaerimm. (But has killed one.) - Has made peace with the death of his people. - "The past is like a wood carving. It may fade, even rot if you let it, but you can't change it. If you try, you just end up with a scratched up piece of wood. An insult to the memory of those carved."

Appearance: 7′4, 252 lbs, Brown Hair and Eyes. His had the sort of white-green colour mold has, but on his shoulder, down part of his bicep, and down-across his left pec was this vivid red mold. Whenever he raged his eyes would turn red, the red mold starting to glow and releasing glowing red spores. Despite seeming like such a large man, he was actually pretty gangly for someone so tall. He had a beard but no mustache, with long hair that was an absolute mess. Definitely one of the more Bovine looking Firbolg, but with a touch of the more classic variety. Wore fur boots and a kilt, and eventually pants. Was sort of iffy if he wore one of those leather barbarian harnesses. Wielded a massive greataxe.  He was another of the ones I tried to make in HeroForge forever ago (and this was the game that started with Dorlen Undertow) but the options were more limited back then so it was never quite right. 

[sessenaa]

After learning that her patron Fleur betrayed her, permanently tying Fleur to her body, Rosie has found some solace in faith. Mostly faith in her friends and community but also faith in a small deity from her place of origin, the old shepherd.

Basically she has lost some Warlock levels but gained some Paladin (oath of redemption) levels.