Chapter I
"In which the Chosen One Is Slain By The Demon King, And A VOW Is Made"
-
With a resounding crash the Dark Lord slams onto the stone altar, scattering candelabras and sacred stones in every direction, blood splashing from his wounds onto the white stone.
You breathe a sigh of relief and raise your hand to push an errant lock of hair back into place, letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.
Locke, your party's leader and chosen of the spirits of the world, advances on the Dark Lord, refusing to drop his guard as he advances on the wounded man, his gleaming silver sword pointed at Nerus' jugular.
Your leader's voice rings high and clear in the Dark Lord's sanctum, echoing up into vaulted ceilings above and out the shattered stained glass windows onto the Dark Legion parade grounds far below, "We beat you Nerus! All your dark plans came to naught. Every single life you've taken has been avenged. If you surrender now I'll let you live with your failure."
The Dark Lord Nerus ignores the tip of Locke's gleaming blade resting on the edge of his high collar and chuckles "Oh no no no", he shifts his hand from the deep gash running along his flank and places it on the altar behind him, adjusting his weight forwards and smearing a thick line of blood on the cold stone, "
Peasant" he spits out at last, a spray of blood accompanying the word, "A literal
farmer! You would dare to offer
me mercy?"
"Yes!" Locke reaches out a hand towards his greatest enemy, "We beat you! Together!" Locke sweeps his hand around the room at the rest of your party: Wise Arcadius in his simple brown cassock, brave Victor in his thick breastplate, charming Reese with his crossbow and guitar, and you -the group's sole female member, "We're a team! We're friends. That's why you could never defeat us. Your evil ends here today. It is your own choice if you die here today as well."
"Your reign of terror is over Nerus!" Arcadius raises his arms pleadingly towards his former clerical comrade, "Please return to us. Even after all this the First Father can forgive you!"
"As long as he makes up his mind soon I don't care either way!" growls Victor, kneeling down next to a fallen Dark Legionnaire and lifting the brace of unused pistols from the fallen foe, "Shit or get off the pot old man."
Reese turns and winks at you, "Well
I care! Have you seen the bounty the Vinyari Alliance has on his ugly mug? He's worth twice as much to us alive!"
"Silence!" roars the ancient Dark Priest, before succumbing to a fit of bloody coughing, "Maybe I lost today. But you?
You think you've won?!" he hacks up more blood, his life rapidly fading from his body, "You've won NOTHING! This is the Time of Reckoning! The Demon King tears through The Veil of Worlds towards this place!"
There is a rumble from the sky, a sound like an endless roiling thunder that grows ever closer.
You look outside and can no longer see the Legionnaire training grounds below, nor the twisted forest in the distance, but instead see a sickly green electricity leaping from cloud to cloud in all directions, gathering a hideous speed as it moves towards the Dark Lord's tower from across the entire sky.
Arcadius gasps, a pained sound escaping from his bearded face like he'd been hit by an Ox, "Nerus… Brother... You couldn't have. The Veil…"
"The Veil is WEAK, Arcadius!" the dying man's eyes shine up at Locke with a spite and glee that you cannot understand, "Understand this…
Heroes," he spits out the word like a piece of rotten meat, "I'll die. Of course, of course I'll die, but he
will destroy all the peoples of Phaneron."
Locke steps backwards, horrified his blade wavering as he casts a single quick look out the window, "Don't do this Nerus! This was your world. And it can be again!" Fear intrudes upon your leader's voice, causing it to quiver like the silver blade in his hand.
The Dark Lord smiles. His next laugh produces no blood, but turns into a racking cough that produces a red foam that coats his neatly trimmed black beard, "It was too late to do otherwise since the moment your blessed blade opened me up like a common beast. Know this, 'Heroes': your 'Free Peoples', all of them, all willingly helped to make this happen."
Then the man you'd spent over a year attempting to stop finally expires, sliding down the altar and onto the hard stone floor below, leaving a streak of rapidly cooling blood behind him.
The room explodes into motion, Arcadius rushes forwards to take the body into his hands, muttering the Chant of the First Father over and over again.
Locke moves towards the largest shattered window, seemingly transfixed by something in the clouds above, his thin silhouette framed by billowing crimson curtains.
"By all seven Maidens' tits," Victor stares open mouthed at the approaching figure, before springing to his feet and slapping you on the back, "C'mon girly, it's time to go."
You're biting back yet another heated reply to the half-elven man when Reese points towards the window that Locke stands at, "Too late!" he screams, tackling you and Victor both, "Duck!"
There is an electric sound that you feel with your entire body as your entire being, your entire world shakes. When your eyes open again the entire room is full of some sort of red, fireless smoke, crackling lines of electricity still sweeping through the room -and you as well.
After what feels like forever the excruciating, all-encompassing pain leaves your body and you rise; first to your knees while gulping down lifegiving lungfuls of acrid air, and then to your feet with Reese's assistance.
Your breath, so recently returned, is knocked from you again, by the sight in front of you: a shimmering black, red, and sickly green haze, where a single massive figure -several meters tall- advances through towards your party.
"We can do this!" says Locke, spitting something bloody out of his mouth and adjusting the angle on his still-brilliant blade, "One last battle!"
"If it's a fucking fight they want…" says Victor, adjusting his own stance and staring at the approaching figure.
Arcadius looks up from where he is still cradling Nerus' body, eyes wild and blonde hair disheveled, "I sense a great evil"
"No doubt, old man," Reese backs towards the massive wooden doors that make up the room's entrance, "I thiiiink it's high time we cashed out on this one and go get some backup."
You adjust your grip on your own armaments as the figure approaches, now seeing a half dozen other figures following the first.
"You heard Nerus," begins Locke, in full Chosen One mode, his rustic accent cutting through the tension, "This has to be the Demon King! If he arrives in our world all the Free Peoples are doomed!" his gaze is determinedly locked in the middle distance ahead of him, "Think of everything that we set out to stop, if we fail here then it will be for naught. The blessings of the spirits and saints will be for naught. And" he shifts into a combat stance, "I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN!"
Locke and Victor charge the large figure as one as it steps straight out of the fog.
The Demon King is four meters tall, every last centimeter covered in armour that moves unsettlingly like black chitin. A red cloak that waves in the still air like flame follows after him.
Locke's blade flashes downwards in a glorious arc, a flame of pure light thrusting directly for the Demon King's heart.
The fiendish lord stops dead in its long strides, and for a brief moment, one cruel second that will never leave your nightmares, you think that maybe this was
really it. That this adventure would end here. That, with a single powerful stroke, the blade Locke dug up out of the tomb of an ancient Avalan King would burn away the Demon King here and now.
Then the Demon King reacts, raising both hands, and with a deft motion grasps Victor's blade.
Victor's astonishment lasts long enough for Demonic entity to rip the familiar blade from his grasp and slam its hilt into Locke's head, sending the young man flying backwards in a long arc through the air.
You have already begun to charge forward, your own implements of combat ready to go, when another figure emerges from the clouds behind the Demon King.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Your movement, whatever plans that you had are halted by the sudden realisation that this truly
is a battle that you cannot win.
You turn away from the vision of yet another demon emerging from across the Veil of Worlds to see Locke, back on his feet again, staggering towards the Demon King, blade raised, and Reese flying backwards from some unseen blow, landing somewhere behind you.
Then something hits you from the side, something sharp and metallic, and you see a long thin slash of your own blood landing on the stone floor in front of you with an unpleasant splat.
You crumple from the sudden blow, your legs giving out, and your head slamming painfully against the stone.
You can still see your companions in front of you: Arcadius stands behind Locke, his hand outstretched and glowing, pouring light into the young man's back. Locke is focused, determined, his blade pointed forwards, his green-blue tunic fluttering out behind him from some unseen breeze. In front of those two stand Victor, defiant and snarling, the runes on his tower shield spitting sparks as the Demon King's fist grabs the entire breadth of the shield in a single massive hand.
They are so majestic. So defiant. So…
Strong. Again you have a renewed hope in victory.
Then the Demon King crushes Victor's shield and his other hand swings around, smashing through Locke's attempted parry, and closes around Victor's head.
It's over in seconds. Victor's headless body is barely beginning to fall, blood not even running yet, when the other hand throws the remains of the shield through Arcadius, pinning the old man to the wall behind him, bisecting him.
The last thing you see before the blackness takes hold is the light of Locke's blade flicker and fade.
-
The Chosen One has been killed by the Demon King. Most of his companions lie dead. And the Free Peoples of a fantasy early modern world go blissfully about their business unconcerned with their coming doom.
As one of the only two survivors of this total party wipe, you are determined to avenge this defeat, to kill the Demon King with your own two hands. And to personally punch everyone who allowed things to get this bad.
Welcome to Punching the Fucking Apocalypse Right In Its Stupid Face, a quest where the standard heroic adventuring party fell at the last hurdle and the generic fantasy world finds itself facing the full force apocalyptic demon invasion usually only hinted at.
What is "Punching the Fucking Apocalypse Right In Its Stupid Face"? It's the result of the fact that I've found that there's a certain optimism and hope required to write Star Trek stuff properly and it's locking my creative process up. So I'm going to expand my sheer rage at the state of the world into a creative project that's (In no particular order) about punching the apocalypse, cynicism about the future, stabbing evil villains, and being in lesbians with nice ladies.
Mechanically, Punching the Fucking Apocalypse Right In It's Stupid Face will use Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition for its base, though I feel no particular need to stick to the exact fine points of the rules -After all, these rules exist to service the narrative not the other way around.
-
You blink as the darkness fades and you find yourself looking at the dancing flames of a fire casting shadows hither and yon across the... ground? In front of you.
After a few moments your eyes adjust to the night and flame and you stare blankly at the face in front of you for what you'll later admit, is an embarrassingly long amount of time.
He's familiar to you, a Zaradian, his demonic heritage clear from the pair of curved horns that emerge from his calculatingly dishevelled white hair and sweep back halfway across the crown of his head from his temples. His purple eyes squint back at you as your addled brain tries to figure out just who the hell this person is.
Even you have to admit that, on a purely aesthetic level, the man is handsome. As his string of ex-boyfriends can surely attest to.
It takes a moment for that thought to sink in before it hits you that you know this man. You continue to wrack your memories for a Zaradian man with white hair, purple eyes, a neatly trimmed beard, standing about five ten with a fairly athletic build and a guitar hung over his-
"Oh. Hello. Reese." you say with a dry and painful slowness, after unsuccessfully attempting to moisten your lips with your tongue, your words drained of life by the barren desert that is your entire body.
"Hey" he says before another word that you can't place, and you give your head a quick shake in confusion as the team's Bard helps you sit up and hands you a flask of what you assume is water.
He repeats himself as you greedily empty the entire flask into your mouth and hand it back to him.
"More,"
He chuckles, but it's a dry chuckle, absent of life, none of humour or mischievousness that you expect from Reese, "Sure, here's more water" he says handing you a ladle full of that good cold wet stuff from somewhere out of your line of vision and repeating that strange word agai-
Oh shit. Yeah. That strange word: that's
your name.
-
[ ] [NAME] Elisanna
That's right, Elisanna, a good old fashioned Vinyari Alliance name. A name older than the founding of your nation by Human settlers thousands of years ago. The nation flourished under the Vinyari kings for centuries, becoming a center of industry, learning, culture, and commerce. Though the Vinyari Alliance is now a Republic ruled by the elected Congress of One Hundred, and overseen by the First Citizen, the spirit of innovation and entrepreneurship that built the Alliance flows through your veins. As does mingled blood from at least two of the Free Peoples that have called the Alliance home. And that same passionate fire for freedom that built Vinyari will see you destroy the Demon King once and for all.
Vinyari is a melting pot of species from across the world. Though Humans remain a plurality of the Vinyari population your PC is descended from a long ago mixing between the Human settlers and the original indiginous "orcish" population.
Orcs per se do not exist as a separate ethnic concept in Phaneron and "Orcs", "Half-Orcs" and Humans are all considered Vinyari for all intents and purposes.
Vinyari (Half-Orc) Traits:
Str +2
Con +1
Darkvision
Proficiency: Intimidation
Relentless Endurance
Savage Attacks
[ ] [NAME] Lavisia
Right. Lavisia. A Zaradian name. Two thousand years ago, during the Demon King's first invasion, some of the army was left stranded when the Demon King was defeated by the Seven Maidens. Still ruling vast holdings the remaining Demon leaders signed a final peace with the Armies of the Free Peoples, and over time the remaining demons assimilated into the local human populace. Though you were born in Vinyari, your parents immigrated from Zaradia, a colony of the old post-Demon Empire which broke away from the old empire a generation ago and has declared a new age of freedom and liberty. Nothing in your demonic heritage will prevent you from killing the Demon King himself.
Again "Tiefling" is a concept that doesn't perfectly translate to this world. Those who are familiar with "Pureblood Sith" from the Star Wars EU will have a better conception of the fiendish blooded "Tieflings" of this world. Your mother was Zaradian 'pureblood'. Your father was… not.
Zaradian (Tiefling) Traits:
Int +1
Cha +2
Darkvision
Damage Resistance: Fire
Infernal Legacy
[ ] [NAME] Imharel
That sounds correct. Imharel, a fine Jienial name. Though you were born in the melting pot that is Vinyari, your parents came from the powerful martial stratocracy of the Jien State. Surrounded on no sides by hostile powers, your Jien ancestors created a system of military regimentation where the strongest, smartest, and most determined rule and the common good is held up as the highest principle of rulership. Your distant ancestors would probably approve of you vowing to destroy the Demon King with your bare hands and damn the cost.
Humans! Good old fashioned generic humans who need no explanation or justification. If you're reading this chances are that you
are one. Your parents were not happy with their particular rank in the Jien hierarchy and while assigned to Vinyari as military attaches simply defected and never returned to the State.
Human Traits:
+1 to all ability scores.
[ ] [NAME] Trinness
Yes, Trinness, that's your name. Though you were born in Vinyari, your parents were once members of Valenti aristocratic house. Descended from unions between dragons and mortals, your Valenti ancestors were bred for war but found their calling in peace. Though most Valenti merchant houses are ruled by dragons, the day to day management and operations are left to the Valenti descendents of their house. Valenti merchants are found across the entire world, wherever there is money to be made. And Valenti mercenaries are found across the entire world as well, wherever there is war to be fought, that same martial heritage that runs through your blood will help you in your quest to destroy the Demon King.
Descendants of unions between Dragons and various humanoid species, again "Dragonborn" does not exist as a special separate concept, but is a best fit mechanically in 5th edition rulesets. Your particular house's fortunes were destroyed in a market correction long before you were born and you were born after your parents had found work in Vinyari.
Valenti (Dragonborn) Traits:
Str +2
Cha +1
Draconic Ancestry (Bronze): Lightning Breath weapon
Damage Resistance: Lightning
[ ] [NAME] Calia
Calia. It means something that your addled brain has forgotten at the moment, but you do remember that it's a popular name in the Union of Cities. Founded by the cooperation of Elf and Dwarf Kingdoms in ancient times the Union is a place of great learning. Legend says that both magic and technology were born in the mountains and forests of the Union. Even today learning dominates the Cities, rulership being granted to the Council of Experts: men and women at the top of their fields. Your own mother was an Elven scholar from the Cities who left the Union to marry your father and take up a position at a prestigious Vinyari university. Perhaps that background will help you research the best way to kill the Demon King.
As in many settings, "Elf" is a translation convention. Most respected Union academics with knowledge of Earth would consider the distinction between Elf and Human similar to the difference between Homo Sapiens and Homo Neanderthalensis. Your PC in particular is the distant result of one of the Union's technocratic eugenics programs.
"Elven" Traits:
Dex +2
Int +1
Darkvision
Proficiency with: Perception
Proficiency with: Longsword, Shortsword, and Longbow
Bonus Cantrip
Fey Ancestry
[ ] [NAME] Xira
Oh, right, Xira. That's your name. It's also the name of Avala's First Queen, making it rather popular in the Avalan Kingdom of Kings. Your Dwarven parents were accepted as refugees from the Kingdom of Kings -the Avalan tradition of Divine Right of Kings sitting unwell with Liberal Vinyari values. The Avalani don't believe in the many gods of the world, or the spirits of the Ascended Saints, but in the collective Godhood of their departed royalty. Whatever mental scars Avalan Theocracy left on your parents, your Avalan heritage has left you stubborn, though, and resourceful. Perfect traits for killing the Demon King.
"Dwarf" is again a translation convention. They make up roughly a third of the Avalan population and many of the Kings and Queens of the Avalan religious tradition are also Dwarven. Your parents did not believe in the exact orthodoxy of Avala and were thus 'encouraged' to leave -despite official laws that trumpet Freedom of Speech and Religion in the Kingdom of Kings.
Dwarven Traits:
Str +2
Con +2
Darkvision
Dwarven Resilience
Proficiency with: Battleaxe, Handaxe, Light Hammer, Warhammer, Light Armour, Medium Armour
Stonecunning
[ ] [NAME] Kallina
Kallina, that's a Gorath name. They say that Gorath was once like Vinyari, but bad luck, a string of failed wars, and the weakening of the Veil of Worlds caused the Gorath Republic to turn inwards and become the Gorath Dominion. The Dominion, plagued by Demons travelling through the thinning Veil, and neighbouring the lands of the Dark Lord Nerus, has been preparing to fight the Demonic threat for decades. Resources are conserved, outcasts shunned and killed, and rulers come to power hurling xenophobic and bigoted language freely. That last part isn't good, that's the part that caused your parents, part of Gorath's mainly half-elven population, to leave for Vinyari early in the early days of the Dominion. But the whole "Stop the Demons at any cost" thing echoes your own quest to kill the Demon King.
Just as Homo Sapiens and Homo Neanderthalensis once interbred, so have Humans and Elves in this world. A century ago Gorath was 68% percent "Half-Elven", though in recent years that number is far closer to 85%. Your well-off parents left the then-Republic for not conforming to the dominant ideology.
Gorathi (Half-Elf) Traits:
2x (Class relevant ability score) +1
+2 Cha
Darkvision
Fey Ancestry
Proficiency with: 2x (Class related skill)
-
Well.
Now you know your own fucking name. And even who you are. So that's cool.
You close your eyes. Try to clear your head. You vaguely remember defeating Nerus, and then there was something else that happened…
With a horrifying flash of memory you remember the light of Locke's blade winking out.
Your eyes snap open.
"Where is everyone else?" Even as you speak, you can feel your heartbeat accelerating, and your hand moves to your side. You can feel the gap in your clothing, but the wound seems to have closed, "What…" a flash of Victor's body dropping to the stone floor, "What happened?"
Reese shifts forward, his knees sinking deep into what looks like thick moss, making you suddenly aware that you seem to be in a forest of some sort, a full moon high overhead, he opens his mouth and nothing comes out.
You picture Victor's tower shield slicing through Arcadius, "We lost."
You roll onto your back.
"Yes."
You stare at the sky above, at the two moons in the night sky, both full of malevolent potential.
Reese, for the first time that you can remember since meeting him two years ago, has nothing to say about a topic.
You contemplate the stars above. You contemplate the patterns that reflect the leylines of this world, the hotly debated effects of both on the Veil of Worlds, the time last year that your party sat under stars much like these and made up constellations with fun names like "The Drunken Elephant" and "Victor's Dignity".
"So why are we alive?" you say after playing back Victor's death in your head for the hundredth time, still not believing that the ornery mercenary could ever have actually died.
"You remember that teleportation amulet?"
You chuckle, "The one you stole from Lord Loftin?" Your chuckles dies away as you remember how Locke had gotten your party out of that particular scrape.
"The payment I earned?" Reese says mock hotly, then pauses for long enough for you to grow worried and look at him. He's looking away from you, into the fire just over his left shoulder, "Yeah. The one I always refused to use in case we really needed to use it. Well I finally used it."
"Thank You."
"I used up our remaining health potions too"
Without thinking, you reach up and rub the spot where you remember being wounded.
"Yeah. There." He trails off again. "It was pretty bad. I didn't…"
"That bad?"
"Worse."
You sit up again, pulling your legs close and wrapping your arms around them, "Now what?"
"Well, I tried to get us to Starwell, but… teleportation spells you know?" he shrugs, "I took my best guess before you woke up." he nods off over his shoulder towards the dark woods, "and I think we're in the forest a couple dozen kilometers north."
You rub your face, chasing after an errant flake of ash, "So tomorrow… we just walk into the third largest city in the world and tell them the world is ending?"
Reese makes an exaggerated frown, a little of the old fire returning, "Third largest, most important."
You nod absently, and stare into the fire.
You stare into the flickering flames through the rest of the night. Thinking. Changing.
You spent years of your life dedicated to this adventure. To Locke's quest to stop the Dark Lord from Nerus' quest to rule the world or destroy it trying.
You start to cry when you realise that everything, every death, every hardship, the effort of all your friends, was entirely in vain.
Something… well it doesn't break, but something
solidifies, hope and hopelessness congealing into spite and rage.
At some point you fall asleep again, the fire behind your eyes stoked into a bonfire that washes out the fire in front of them.
In the morning you accept a piece of traveler's bread for Reese without a word.
He chatters about inconsequential nothings as he tears small pieces off of his bread and putters about your makeshift camp to pack up.
You leave him to it because that's how he copes.
Eventually you choke down the last of your traveler's bread.
You stand up, taking a deep breath and call across the small clearing, "Hey, Reese!"
"MMhmm???" He says, a piece of bread in his mouth as he packs something into his bag.
"Fuck this. Fuck everything."
"Hmm, Mhhmm!"
"I'm going to kill the Demon King," your hands curl into tight fists, tight enough that your trimmed nails begin to dig into the meat of your palm, "I don't care how, I don't care when. But I vow to kill that murderous spawn of a billion assholes with my own two hands. I will fucking make our struggle mean something."
Reese stuffs the last of his bread into his mouth and stands up from his bags, "Well. That's a tall order. You mind if we look for some backup first? Maybe find ohh…. I don't know, any help?" he lifts his bag up and onto his shoulder, then nods his head towards the horizon, "Starwell city is that-a-way"
"Gods I hope that the Alliance listened to Locke's warning." you say, "If not…"
"Oh!" Reese raises a finger, "We did technically kill the evil Dark Lord and stop his Dark Legion. I hope that's still worth something."
"It'd better be, I'm done fucking around," you say as you check your weapons of choice one last time before leaving the campsite.
-
As it would be somewhat counterproductive to build out the full stats of a character's class before their Origin is even known, and I am not particularly interested in multiple drawn out updates dedicated to character creation, I am asking people to vote on which particular class and prestige class that should be taken from a preselected pool that I think would be fun to write. I will make a good faith effort to build the best possible character from any combination bridging the gap with a custom background using my infinite QM/DM powers.
In any event once we've picked origin and class I will be asking for ability score rolls based on Roll 4d6, drop the lowest, then I'll assign those rolls to wherever they'll make the most sense.
Afterwards I will level the PC up to 5th level, because it's not like you did no adventuring while accompanying the Chosen One to his date with being broken in half at the Demon King's feet. This also isn't a story about coming into power, it's a story about punching the apocalypse in the fucking face, looking wicked cool while doing so, and being outrageously sapphic afterwards.
-
Your weapon of choice is a:
[ ] [WEAPON] Rapier with arcane symbols on it
Wizard: School of Bladesinging
Part wizard, part stabbist, the "Bladesinger" is a class that is traditionally reserved to Elves in Faerun. But on Phaneron, and in Vinyari in particular, it is a discipline opened up to wizards of all species. Primarily played as a wizard who has the option of being very good at stabbing, the Bladesinger is generally pretty hard to kill. Your grace and intelligence will see you dance around the blows of the King and his army, kill his minions with a snap of your fingers, and flash a blade into his heart.
Intelligence and Dexterity are recommended here.
[ ] [WEAPON] Glaive
Paladin: Oath of Vengeance
You swore another Oath to the spirits of the world and the secular saints before. But now, after all that's happened to you, and to the world, you have only one Oath that means anything: an Oath of Vengeance. An Oath of Vengeance that means that your Glaive will be stained with the ichor of the Demon King and all his armies.
Strength and Charisma are recommended here.
[ ] [WEAPON] Pistol and backpack of reagents
Artificer: Alchemist
More than a mere chemist, you're expert with all the materials of Phaneron both mundane and arcane. Poisons, explosives, even potentially a cure for death itself, all are within your reach as a master Alchemist of the Vinyarian school. As an artificer you are also expert with all the devices and machines that power the world. You may not be able to stab the Demon King in the face, or melt him with magic, but you can use your boundless creativity to create the machine or potion that can.
Intelligence and Constitution are recommended here.
[ ] [WEAPON] Rifle
Fighter: Sharpshooter Archetype
The field armies of the Free Peoples are in large part are made up of line formations of musket armed soldiers with magical support. In large part... but then there's people like you, skirmishers, picking targets off at range, unseen. You know the terrain of every battle, the layout of every skirmish. When the Demon King dies he'll do so at the time and place of your choosing without ever knowing what hit him.
Dexterity is recommended here.
[ ] [GLOVES] Gloves stitched with arcane symbols
Sorcerer: Wild Magic
Unprotected Leyline exposure early in your childhood changed the course of your life forever. While you can channel the untapped magickal potential of Phaneron, sometimes that magic can also go out of control with effects ranging from the beneficial to devastatingly detrimental. Nothing on this world has ever been able to contain your wild potential, and you're ready to bet that nothing not
of this world can either when you hunt down and kill the Demon King.
Charisma and Constitution are recommended here.
[ ] [WEAPON] Greatsword
Barbarian: Path of Zealotry
Once you were just an admittedly reckless fighter trying to keep up with the bladework of a Chosen One and a veteran mercenary. Now you're an unbridled machine of hatred and rage. You will put down the Demon King. You will end this apocalypse. And nothing, NOTHING, will stand in your way.
Strength and Constitution are recommended here.
[ ] [WEAPON] Crossbow
Rogue: Inquisitive
You're not just a sneaky rogue, you're an investigator who can read an entire room in a single glance. Nothing goes unnoticed beneath your eyes. There are no secrets, no lies, no hiding places when you set your mind to your investigations. You will discover how to strike the Demon King down.
Dexterity and Intelligence are recommended here.
-
Current Vote Options:
Please Vote by Plan:
[NAME] Elisanna (Half-Orc)
[NAME] Lavisia (Tiefling)
[NAME] Imharel (Human)
[NAME] Trinness (Dragonborn)
[NAME] Calia (Elf)
[NAME] Xira (Dwarf)
[NAME] Kallina (Half-Elf)
[WEAPON] Rapier with arcane symbols on it (Wizard: School of Bladesinging)
[WEAPON] Glaive (Paladin: Oath of Vengeance)
[WEAPON] Pistol and backpack of reagents (Artificer: Alchemist)
[WEAPON] Rifle (Fighter: Sharpshooter Archetype)
[WEAPON] Gloves stitched with arcane symbols (Sorcerer: Wild Magic)
[WEAPON] Greatsword (Barbarian: Path of Zealotry)
[WEAPON] Crossbow (Rogue: Inquisitive)
