DnD 5e Reference
Reference page for DnD 5e.
Skill to Stat Mapping
- acrobatics (dex)
- animal handling (wis)
- arcana (int)
- athletics (str)
- deception (cha)
- history (int)
- insight (wis)
- intimidation (cha)
- investigation (int)
- medecine (wis)
- nature (int)
- perception (wis)
- performance (cha)
- persuasion (cha)
- religion (int)
- sleight of hand (dex)
- stealth (dex)
- survival (wis)
- passive perception (wis)
RST Character Sheet
- temp hp:
- hit dice:
- proficiency bonus:
- spell save dc
- spell attack bonus
- spell list
- proficiencies and languages
- features and traits
- personality traits, ideals, bonds, flaws
- age, height, weight, eyes, skin, hair
- appearance description
A character I rolled up to use in a campaign that I joined with Craig M.
- Name: Magnoros Gurda
- Race: Tiefling (PH43)
- Class: Warlock (PH105)
- Alignment: Lawful Evil
- Skil Prof: Deception, Sleight of Hand
- Tool Prof: Disguise kit, forgery kit
- Equipment: Fine Clothes, Disguise Kit,
- Signet Ring of an imaginary Duke from Yartar, pouch w/15GP
Favorite Schemes: I get what I want by letting others think they are getting what they want. I’m probably not who you think I am.
False Identity: Over the years I’ve cultivated a new me. …A more useful me. A harmless, pitiable - yet still horribly ugly - steward for a noble house of Yartar has the enviable trait of association with those of standing. While a Tiefling often is refused entry to establishments, a steward of proper standing can sometimes (if you play your cards right) make demands directly to the proprietor. My aliases appearance and name change depending on where I am and who my mark is.
Born into a life of hiding and lies I can’t seem to turn it off. Be it about my identity, history, ideals, or even opinions you’ll be hard pressed to get the same story out of me twice. I often talk too much, but I have a knack for saying nothing at the same time.
My education has taught me that power is the deciding factor in this life. Power over others, power over yourself, power over nature. I want it all, and I can’t help but scheme to take another down a noch if it will benefit me and I can get away with it. While my track record on that score has been decent, it’s not perfect.
My mother was a serving girl. Or a maybe a prostitute. They didn’t really care when they saw her walking alone, late at night, in the back streets of Calimshan.
The "they" I refer to were Tieflings who were members of a hidden Temple of Asmodeus. The Priests of Asmodeus had requirements for their upcoming ceremony. The ambitious priests had planned an elaborate ceremony to pay respect to Asmodeus in their underground complex.
All I have been able to learn about the ceremony was that my Mother was bathed in the blood of an infant and restrained on an alter below a shaft to the surface. When the moon’s light that peered through the shaft - which was ostensibly a disused well, hundreds of feet above, on the surface - shone straight down and illuminated her, their chant or spell finished. I didn’t learn what it was they did. The letter I secretly found, in Pedak’s drawer, just said that "It" happened, and it was glorious when "He" appeared. It clearly wasn’t Azmodeus, but the letter didn’t say who had visited them. It apparently changed their point of view and set them on the "correct path" though.
The rest of this is speculation on what I have pieced together over my life.
Clearly my mother got pregnant. I’m still not sure I believe it was from the ceremony, nor that some being from one of the Planes of Hell would come and impregnate her.
Anyway, I guess the Demon, ArchDevil or Fiend that visited them was not entirely there of His own accord. But he made the most of it. Me. In the process all but three of the Priests were killed. That was the night that the Conclave of Mephistopheles was born.
Nine months later they left Calimshan. A few of the Priests had had visions of danger and believed that if they did not get me away from the Temple of Asmodeus a horrible fate would befall them. So they left and headed in the direction of Waterdeep with a final destination of Yartar. Along the way, 3 pack horses and 2 of the Priests were killed.
Luckily it was Solar Czka who had the contact in Yartar who took us in. It was there that I spent the next two decades of my life.
It was a hidden little temple in the back corners of an out of the way street in Yartar’s Market district. Nameless on nearly all accounts. Ignored by nearly all. The public only called us "The Nameless".
When I was five I began to help out around the temple. Solar and Padek Senhoik were the only Priests here and they made me wash floors, dishes and laundry. At the age of eight they let me help cook. By 10 I was allowed to interact with the public when they came into the temple. Usually they were just homeless though and the sight of me often scared them off. That was when I became interested in the arts of disguise.
It was also at 10 that Solar started making me feed the Homeless. It helped them to get over their aversion to my appearance and let me talk to some of them. This was how I learned to fabricate a believable history for myself. I couldn’t tell them a truth I didn’t know could I?
Three years later, after I had formed a single friendship, had found one person who trusted me. That was when Padek showed me the power of that trust. The power that it could give me over others.
My thirteenth birthday was my first true lesson in the power of pain. I killed Melhor, the stinky old homeless man that came every week to talk to me. Padek showed me how a simple thing like the removal of a fingernail or the breaking of a single, tiny bone in the foot of the victim can cause endless delight. Er, to me that is.
Nobody missed the homeless in Yartar. The city gaurd had too much to handle already in the busier parts of the city. An extra body was rarely even noticed.
It wasn’t until the first time I killed a person using magic that I was visited. I recieved a vision of Mephistopheles bestowing upon me a mantle of great power.
The vision showed me the Divine spark of Azuth, consumed by Asmodeus and providing the power to elevate him to Godhood. Thus it was that the role as Master of the Nine Hells had been vacated. Mephistopheles’ schemes had finally come to a grand climax and the seat was his to take. Provided that the Cults of Baalzebul, dire enemy of Mephistopheles, can be brought down, power is ours for the taking.
That was the word he meant for me to hear. "Ours". I’m sure that’s what he said.
Henceforth, my lot in life was clear. I could no longer stay in the quiet temple hidden in plain sights. I must go out into the world, gather power for myself and put down all those who worship Baalzebul.
I must eliminate all those who hold power over me and recieve my mantle as Son of Mephistopheles in glory.
… but they’ll never know my plan until it’s too late.
- Horn ideas: http://pinterify.org/pin/565905509407283879
- I like these horns: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/476185360583007051/
- Pretty much look like this one but my skin is tinged red and I have a tail.
- In good light my face looks a bit closer to this maybe (don’t forget my dark/red skin and different horns) http://mavrosh.deviantart.com/art/Aigeal-The-Tiefling-602310919