Last Name: Briarthorn
Appearance:
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Height 5'10"
Weight: 180 lb
Eyes: Light Blue/Grey
Hair: Black, medium Length
Facial Hair Style: stubble
Personality Profile:
General Health: Fit
Deity: Leira, however also looks towards Baator and Mephistopheles for worship out of respect.
Initial Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Profession: Adventurer, hunter of beasts,
Base Class & Proposed Development: Warlock: Pure Warlock
Habits/Hobbies: Training, hunting beasts for coin, and socializing with other adventurers
Languages: Common, Draconic, and learning more.
Weapon of Choice: Sickle, Light Crossbow, Magic
Fears: Failing his peers, being hunted by a large group for being a Warlock.
Flaws: Lacks knowledge about many beasts, slow to trust, tends to trusts other Warlocks without second thought.
Likes: Subject of Necromancy, tieflings, forests, caves, and odd baubles.
Dislikes: Water, the cold, witch hunts, over zealous Paladins and Clerics.
Background:
Born and raised in the farmlands far away from any bustling walled cities, Kynndaris was a very adventurous child. He would often wonder to go explore the local forests and caves when he was supposed to be doing his daily chores. He only had a few friends, mainly whom were older than himself by a few years. Together they would achieve all sorts of mischief, ranging from taking clothes that were out to dry and hiding them to locking the town guards out of their armory. One night when he was fifteen, he and his friends heard rumors that a band of gypsies were traveling through the forest and made camp not too far away from the outermost fields of their town, so the boys went out in the night to go investigate, against the will of the town guard, but they never found out that they left. The boys spotted lit camp fires accompanied with large pale blue tents and many people dancing to music. As the boys crept closer to get a better look, one of the gypsy lookouts spotted them, but instead of sounding an alarm, he invited them over and insisted that they joined their festivities.
There were more people at the gathering than their town guard previously thought; the town guard numbered them to be around 30, but actually there must have been more than 100 at the gathering. Among the festivities were plentiful amounts of ale, games of chance, and many young and beautiful women dancing. Kynndaris eventually separated from his friends who went off to socialize with some of the women, and not long after he was hailed over to a fairly large tent by an older woman. As he got closer to the woman, he could clearly see the defined wrinkles in her face and her two different colored eyes, one green and one grey. As he stood face to face with the woman, he suddenly felt at ease. She spoke to him, asking if he wanted his fortune read and gestured towards an open tent. Kynndaris agreed, and followed the old woman as she entered the tent.
The inside of the tent was vastly different from the pale blue canvas that made up the exterior of the tent; the inside of the tent was lined with rich red velvet lined with a golden-colored embroidering and smelled of think incense. In the center of the tent was a small round table with two chairs on either side of the table, facing one another. Upon the table laid various objects including knuckle bones and cards with a variation of illustrations and inscriptions written on them. She rolled the bones and observed how they fell upon the table, then proceeded to arrange many of the various cards face down in an unusual pattern. She flipped up three cards slowly, one after the other, with a different inscription and illustration each. The old woman read each card out aloud as she flipped them over, “Adventure, wealth, power.” Kynndaris was very pleased with his fortune that was read and proceeded to remove a well-hidden coin from his shoe as payment, but as he stood up, the old woman grabbed his arm. “Sit,” she said, “fore I am not yet finished.” He was uneasy at first, but the feeling quickly faded and he willingly sat back down.
The woman gathered the bones once again and threw them upon the table, however this time one of the bones cracked as it hit the table. The woman gazed at the split bone for what seemed like a full minute, until she gathered the bones once again and began to lay out the cards, this time in a different pattern. She laid out three more cards side by side and proceeded to flip the cards over one by one. “Misery, weakness, failure.” She read out aloud. Kynndaris’ face went pale as he starred at the cards laid before him, along with the old woman’s chilling grin. She reached out to grasp his hand in false comfort, “the cards have spoken and your fate is sealed,” she said to him, still wearing her chilling grin. “But what happened to my first fortune? Way that but just a clever lie?” remarked Kynndaris, still frozen in place. “There were never two different fortunes; the two are one of the same.” She replied. ” But your fate can yet change; fore your fate is bound to your soul.” Kynndaris’ mind quickly became slow and overfilled with doubt of himself. “My.. soul? What do you mean, by soul?” He asked hesitantly. “Well, I could change your fortune; I could set you on a path to adventure, a path of power, a path that could lead you to great wealth. All you have to do is sign this contract in blood, and your life will be changed, no doubt for the better.” The old woman responded.
Kynndaris was silent for a moment; he did not believe that actual souls were real, but just a figure of speech that the priest of Gond referred to in his preaching’s, so he naively signed the contract. He reached in his pocket and revealed a small, concealed dagger and diagonally cut across the palm of his hand. Flinching in pain, he squeezed his hand closed so the blood would more easily flow from his hands onto the paper. The blood landed upon the paper, spattering lightly off the paper and onto the table. The old woman began to grin, and young Kynndaris proceeded to lose consciousness where he sat.
He awoke alone of the forest floor, shortly after sunrise. As he turned his head to survey his surroundings, he noticed that the gypsy camp was no longer there. He believed that he was in the same clearing that the camp was last night, but there were no signs of camp fires, tent posts, or even trampled grass; or his friends. He believed it was all but a dream, until he opened his hand and gazed upon the fresh wound across his hand. He felt different. He felt... powerful.
His missing friends were never found, and were believed to have run off to become bandits, or at least that’s what the town guard liked to believe. Kynndaris would continue to live in the farmlands for many years, secretly practicing his new power until he was discovered by local hunters and was forced to flee the area. He changed his name to the name he currently uses today, and traveled to Baulder’s Gate, where he is believed to currently reside.
To clarify: The devil making the contract was disguised as the old woman, just in case you didn't pick up on that.
Goals:
To master Greater Invocations
To master Dark Invocations
Gather a large group of Warlocks to ward off and fight against discrimination
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts:
-Very Charismatic
-Used to hold back from using his magic because he was ashamed, but now he fully embraces his powers.
-Turning his prior lack of arcane knowledge into a strength by studying local and foreign lore, spell craft, and the function of magical devices.
-Tries to avoid public confrontations with others, unless specifically targeted.
-Attraction towards uncommon races (from a person of his rural upbringing), especially tieflings and elves.
-Does not fear death because he believes his body is of greater use to Baator alive than dead.
-Dislikes water (almost downed in a river in his youth).
-Curious about necromancy and its practical applications, but will only openly admit it among close companions