TOPIC: [R6] Storm King's Thunder - Discussion

As akways I know punctuation and capital letters are missing lol .

As one of brighter barbarians of the tribe called blue bear tribe after our mighty leader and conquer of the tor Hill giant tribe during their last uprising, called me into his hut , there were 10 of us , he gave us the speech about the tribe , honour and sacrifice. He explained that the shaman had read portents showing that the Giants were on the move again and this time we will not be able to stop them on our own as they had banded together. So varterrien our chief had brought us together to be sent to different parts of the sword coast to different towns where there is items or people of power to join together in the fight to save the sword coast. I was sent to nightstone , some sort of rune monalith. I am not sure what I need to do once I reach nightstone as varterrien told us that in case we didn't make it due to ambush or torture we could not give the plan away. As. Barbarians we accepted this without question

Sorry man! If it's your normal turf, I could have a look at another class if you'd prefer?

There's room in the game for two druids!

The way that D&D.5 is built, two druids can play VERY differently!

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crusader_hank wrote:
As you do.

OK, I think I may have got a bit too into my character's backstory! Oh well, here goes anyway:
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Ever since he could walk, Dragor Taliovic’s parents warned him constantly against venturing into the Old Forest.

“Never go past the old Waystone, boy. Evil lurks there.” They used to say.

This was advice he dutifully followed until he was about ten years old. Then, one late autumn day, everything changed.

Dragor’s village was nestled in the northern shadow of the Forest of Lethyr, sheltered from the biting winds that scour the Great Dale between Thesk and Narfell. A bleak land full of hard winters and even hardier folk.

On that fateful day, when the villagers were busy making the preparations for the Autumn Festival, Dragor was being a nuisance and getting under everyone’s feet. Finally losing patience, Dragor’s parents told him to gather more firewood for the great bonfire that was to be lit to mark the equinox. This chore was more to keep the boy out of the way than any real need for more fuel.

Dragor wandered into the woods, idly daydreaming of the day he would leave this boring little village and become a great adventurer like in the stories Elder Vigan told.

And thus, Dragor wandered too far and failed to notice he had walked right by the weathered old Waystone, the ancient runes carved on its surface partially concealed by a cloak of ivy and moss.

A sudden change in the usual forest noises brought Dragor out of his reverie and he realised had strayed too far. The trees around him were far more ancient and foreboding than those near his home. The lack of birdsong sent a chill down his spine.

For several hours, he stumbled through the undergrowth, trying to find some familiar rock or tree stump to guide him home. As the light failed, Dragor came across some old ruins, all but reclaimed by the forest. The ancient stones seemed imbued with power, causing the air to tingle like the moments before a lightning strike.

Scared, Dragor hurried to leave this strange place behind but the ground itself betrayed him and he tumbled down into darkness, into some hidden chamber long buried. Dragor landed badly, breaking his ankle and striking his head on a hard root. As consciousness faded, he felt the air become more oppressive as a long dormant, ancient wild magic enveloped him. Welcoming him.

A search party, led by one of the many rangers sworn to protect the ancient forest, found Dragor three days later, delirious and close to death. His frantic parents were overjoyed to find him still alive.

It was a long recovery, taking him months to fully heal from his ordeal but eventually life returned to normal. For a while anyway.

As Dragor became a teenager, strange things began to occur whenever he was around. Things that could not be easily explained in normal terms. Inevitably the villagers began to take notice of these strange phenomena and grew fearful.

Damarans have always been mistrustful of magic that was not divine in origin and people began to suspect Dragor was a source of evil magic. They whispered, scowled and pointed whenever he walked by.

His parents protected him as much as they could but a few days after Dragor turned sixteen, the situation came to a head. While fetching water from the well in the square, Dragor suffered a seizure. While thrashing around in the dirt, his body rose into the air and floated there as if held by an invisible hand. Arcane lights spewed forth from his eyes, nose and mouth and spilled to the floor. Where the light struck the dirt, thick vines sprouted and writhed, bursting through the walls of nearby buildings and tangling around everything they touched.

This time even Dragor’s parents could not defend him. He was driven from his home and village by people he’d known and trusted since he was a baby. Dragor was left mentally scarred by this treatment and, in the following years, actively shunned contact with any form of civilisation. He felt he did not belong anywhere. Instead, he turned to the thing that now defined him: his wild magic.

An outsider, Dragor walked the land, learning to access and use the magic he’d absorbed in those ruins so long ago. After many difficult years, he became able to control the magic that infused him. Well, mostly...

Lately, nightmares have plagued Dragor’s sleep. Terrifying visions so real, they do not fade upon waking. The more he ignores them, the more vivid and insistent they become. And now they cannot be repressed any longer. In them, he sees a strange obelisk, stark against a storm-lashed sky, glowing with eldritch light. One word repeats over and over in his mind.

“Nightstone.”

Unsure what this all means, he does what he always does and wanders, seeking understanding. Gradually, he becomes aware his wandering has been leading him steadily westwards and somehow this feels right...
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Dragor Taliovic is a Human Sorcerer whose power is Wild Magic.

Looking good!

In response to PM received, I am restricting your class/racial stuff to the core rulebook for ease of reference and play. I am not super experienced with D&D.5 and we have a new player starting with us, so probably not the best time to be rolling out obscure new rules from various sources not everyone will be familiar with. I appreciate you can probably provide the books for reference, but I have no desire to read them.

Apologies if this decision is unpopular, but I am enforcing it for this campaign.

Also, I will give an inspiration die to anyone who posts an image of their character in this thread. Could be a famous person who the character shares a resemblance to, or maybe something off deviantart. The main goal here is to help your fellow players (and me!) envision your character during roleplay.

You mean I can't use the fungal rules from the Guide to Ogre Ailments Gazette Companion? That's outrageous. I was going to take the Athlete's Feat.