Warning: You are not logged in. Your IP address will be publicly visible if you make any edits. If you log in or create an account, your edits will be attributed to your username, along with other benefits.
The edit can be undone. Please check the comparison below to verify that this is what you want to do, and then publish the changes below to finish undoing the edit.
| Latest revision | Your text | ||
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
{{Infobox_character|affilliation=Servants of Att-Annalo (former)|name=Reylendor Aspenmorrow|image= | |||
Https---i.postimg.cc-SNBHR2py-E8-DB97-CB-0-FAB-42-F5-B5-BD-B4-C28-CAEFBCB.jpg | |||
|caption=|relatives=Adyra Aspenmorrow (mother), Ilican Aspenmorrow (father)|languages= | |caption=|relatives=Adyra Aspenmorrow (mother), Ilican Aspenmorrow (father)|languages=Common, Elvish, Abyssal, Deep Speech|alias=None|marital=No Spouse/Partner|birthPlace=Fallhorn City|Age=121|species=Wood Elf|gender=Male|height=5’5 ft|weight=115 lbs|eyes=Green}} | ||
''' | '''Life Domain Cleric. Pronouns: He/Him. ''' | ||
==Physical Appearance== | ==Physical Appearance== | ||
Reylendor has tan skin, dark brown hair that’s quite disheveled, and | Reylendor has tan skin, dark brown hair that’s quite disheveled, and emerald eyes with bags beneath them. He appears quite thin, even by elven standards, and has a frail stature. Reylendor wears green, cloth robes held together by brown leather straps: they appear average in quality. He carries a buckler shield in one hand and an amulet in the other. There’s also a spell scroll fastened to his right side. | ||
==Personality== | ==Personality== | ||
| Line 14: | Line 12: | ||
==History== | ==History== | ||
Fallhorn City, with its abundance of mixing races and cultures, was probably a great place to live for those who weren’t relegated to the slums. Reylendor wasn’t so lucky; when he was born his parents were in the depths of poverty, and another mouth to feed didn’t make life any easier. His mother and father worked any jobs they could get their hands to provide for him. When he was too young to work he begged, and he took to work as soon as he was able. Reylendor did everything from cleaning stables to sweeping chimneys to holding signs for street-side magic acts, but he didn’t see actual magic until he was 60. | |||
After Reylendor’s sixtieth birthday, a religious group called the Servants of | After Reylendor’s sixtieth birthday, a religious group called the Servants of Att-Annalo took root in Fallhorn’s slums: they healed the injured for free and pooled their funds to open a soup kitchen for the hungry. Obviously, the city’s poor quickly became big fans of them. Five years after establishing themselves, the Servants offered to take in children to train in the ways of their God, Att-Annalo. Many families jumped at the opportunity and Reylendor’s parents were no exception: they wanted him to have a chance to make something of himself. And so, he spent the next several decades training. | ||
Reylendor originally thought the Servants were clerics, but learning they were warlocks who used healing staves made little difference to him. Despite many others who began training after him being allowed to make pacts with | Reylendor originally thought the Servants were clerics, but learning they were warlocks who used healing staves made little difference to him. Despite many others who began training after him being allowed to make pacts with Att-Annalo within 5-10 years, the Servants kept Reylendor in his role as an apprentice and scribe; he didn’t mind much since he enjoyed the work. During this time, Reylendor learned Deep Speech and Abyssal as they were the primary languages the Servants used to communicate. Eventually, at age 115, he was deemed ready to become a true warlock and make his pact. | ||
During the Pact Ceremony, the unthinkable was revealed: | During the Pact Ceremony, the unthinkable was revealed: Att-Annalo was no God, but a Far Ream dwelling Great Old One looking to create an avatar and manifest on the mortal plane. Unfortunately for him, Reylendor was deemed an ideal host. The Great One managed to latch onto a portion of Reylendor’s soul, but he was able to break away before it could fully corrupt him. Reylendor ran from Fallhorn as fast as he was able, not allowing himself to think of what might become of his family/friends in his absence. | ||
While running from the Servants and just barely surviving on the road, Reylendor bumped into a roaming group of clerics. Feeling sympathy for his apparent plight, they took him in. Fascinated by authentic healing magic, he was quick to cast aside his warlock lessons and take to the studies of a healer. However, his experience with | While running from the Servants and just barely surviving on the road, Reylendor bumped into a roaming group of clerics. Feeling sympathy for his apparent plight, they took him in. Fascinated by authentic healing magic, he was quick to cast aside his warlock lessons and take to the studies of a healer. However, his experience with Att-Annalo rendered him thoroughly unable to trust any entity claiming divinity, and Reylendor shocked the clerics by learning their skills while remaining a staunch atheist. Sensing that they were put off by him, he left the group in search of a way to rid his soul of Att-Annalo’s influence. | ||
Currently, he’s 121. | Currently, he’s 121. | ||
<u>''On the Servants of | <u>''On the Servants of Att-Annalo''</u> | ||
''“The Far Realm is filled with forces utterly incomprehensible to those not born into it. Some of the entities dwelling within it might be older than time itself. Those who seek to meddle in the affairs of that realm are either naive—desperately searching for purpose since they’ve found none within the Material—or arrogant: fools who would claim understanding where there can be none. I was once both. I write this so, should something unseemly become of me, others will know of the danger in pursuit.'' | ''“The Far Realm is filled with forces utterly incomprehensible to those not born into it. Some of the entities dwelling within it might be older than time itself. Those who seek to meddle in the affairs of that realm are either naive—desperately searching for purpose since they’ve found none within the Material—or arrogant: fools who would claim understanding where there can be none. I was once both. I write this so, should something unseemly become of me, others will know of the danger in pursuit.'' | ||
| Line 34: | Line 32: | ||
''At some point in their scholarly meandering, they turned to looking at the stars. It was then that Mel heard The Calling: strange whispers that spoke to him not as voices, but “sight beyond sight”. He started <s>hallucinating</s> having visions about the true nature of the world. He told his closest companions and eventually they started having these visions too. I am uncertain how they procured the funds to build an observatory, but they did. They locked themselves away and, perhaps ironically, dedicated themselves entirely to learning of the Far Realm.'' | ''At some point in their scholarly meandering, they turned to looking at the stars. It was then that Mel heard The Calling: strange whispers that spoke to him not as voices, but “sight beyond sight”. He started <s>hallucinating</s> having visions about the true nature of the world. He told his closest companions and eventually they started having these visions too. I am uncertain how they procured the funds to build an observatory, but they did. They locked themselves away and, perhaps ironically, dedicated themselves entirely to learning of the Far Realm.'' | ||
''It was then that | ''It was then that Att-Annalo finally spoke to Mel. He described it as the height of fulfillment: a culmination of all the philosophy, lore, and science he had ever learned. I think he was likely absorbed by the power it’s pact bestowed him with. Whatever the case, in 764 the newly named Servants of Att-Annalo descended on the slums of Fallhorn City like an asymptomatic swarm.'' | ||
''Despite their strange garb and preachings, they healed our sick and tended to our weary. That was enough for us. I’ll never begrudge my parents for sending me to become their scribe. I spent decades transcribing | ''Despite their strange garb and preachings, they healed our sick and tended to our weary. That was enough for us. I’ll never begrudge my parents for sending me to become their scribe. I spent decades transcribing Att-Annalo’s nonsensical murmurings to its favored servants and stupidly hoping to one day be blessed enough to receive it’s words. Really, I can’t believe I ever thought the abomination was a god.'' | ||
''<s>I remember precious little of the night that was supposed to be my initiation</s>'' | ''<s>I remember precious little of the night that was supposed to be my initiation</s>'' | ||
| Line 50: | Line 48: | ||
''“As it would turn out, it is in fact not a good idea to participate in unnecessary, exceedingly strenuous events when harboring a fraction of an eldritch abomination in one’s soul. It is perhaps even less of a good idea to do so when one has recently experienced stress onset by the knowledge that the cult associated with the Far Realm that they’re hiding from has taken residence in a tower connected to said realm. All of this is, of course, compounded by the fact that the day’s events were broadcast to countless individuals throughout the land. Truly, the level of foolishness I have displayed is astounding.'' | ''“As it would turn out, it is in fact not a good idea to participate in unnecessary, exceedingly strenuous events when harboring a fraction of an eldritch abomination in one’s soul. It is perhaps even less of a good idea to do so when one has recently experienced stress onset by the knowledge that the cult associated with the Far Realm that they’re hiding from has taken residence in a tower connected to said realm. All of this is, of course, compounded by the fact that the day’s events were broadcast to countless individuals throughout the land. Truly, the level of foolishness I have displayed is astounding.'' | ||
''I, for some unearthly reason, attended the Olympia Magisteria games. I was given a VIP ticket—likely for helping | ''I, for some unearthly reason, attended the Olympia Magisteria games. I was given a VIP ticket—likely for helping Seglock during the Goblin/Tiamat crisis—and decided that I had nothing better to do than prevent an incoming nervous breakdown by drowning myself in a crowd of fans. Unfortunately, members from both teams went missing, and VIPs were called to fill the missing spots. Despite showing a hint of intellect when I was apprehensive about participating, I lost all shred of caution and agreed to fill in anyway.'' | ||
''I was on a team with | ''I was on a team with Cecil, a rather eccentric gnome, and a dragonborn fellow named Volrac. The latter was one of two among us who looked like they belonged in a sporting event: the other was a tiefling called Igniticus—I thought he was rather full of himself at first, but from what I saw of his performance, his arrogance may have been justified. During introductions, I’m afraid I nearly blinded the cameraman with an Eldritch Blast. It’s disquieting to know the spell still comes so naturally to me after all this time.'' | ||
''The goal of every game was to steal a shrunken version of the opposing team’s mascot and bring it from their side of the field to ours.'' | ''The goal of every game was to steal a shrunken version of the opposing team’s mascot and bring it from their side of the field to ours.'' | ||
| Line 76: | Line 74: | ||
''“Elves are not supposed to need sleep. For some Fey related reason, we usually go into trances instead. What I know of the logistics is rather fascinating, but it’s hardly relevant. The fact is that I’ve never slept in the traditional sense. I’ve never had the time to. That is to say, I slept last night, and it unsettles me deeply. I was assisting with medical needs in Seglock—as I have since I arrived—and at some point I nodded off. Thankfully, I wasn’t assisting anyone when it happened. I’m particularly put off by the dream I had.'' | ''“Elves are not supposed to need sleep. For some Fey related reason, we usually go into trances instead. What I know of the logistics is rather fascinating, but it’s hardly relevant. The fact is that I’ve never slept in the traditional sense. I’ve never had the time to. That is to say, I slept last night, and it unsettles me deeply. I was assisting with medical needs in Seglock—as I have since I arrived—and at some point I nodded off. Thankfully, I wasn’t assisting anyone when it happened. I’m particularly put off by the dream I had.'' | ||
''It began with me wandering through the woods, which I’ve been increasingly inclined to do as of late. The scenery was familiar, but it was really too familiar. The trees and flowers were blurring by, which tipped me off that I was running. I saw people up ahead and finally realized that I was reliving my encounter with | ''It began with me wandering through the woods, which I’ve been increasingly inclined to do as of late. The scenery was familiar, but it was really too familiar. The trees and flowers were blurring by, which tipped me off that I was running. I saw people up ahead and finally realized that I was reliving my encounter with Tordek, Violet, Varryn, Boros, and Siohbhin. Despite that realization, the people I saw didn’t have faces. In fact, when I asked for their help, they didn’t respond at all. An Eldritch Blast hit me, just as it had back then, and everything went black.'' | ||
''When I awoke, though I was still within my dream, I was struck by the strangest sensation. I was awake and I could see everything around me, but my body seemed to be moving on its own. I went about my typical routine: checking in with the hospital efforts in Seglock and assisting sick and weary refugees. Despite my commitment to being a cleric, I could tell that the day’s efforts were exhausting me. No, rather, it was more that they were boring me. I was upsettingly dismissive of an old woman who’d had her legs cut off and I outright ignored a man complaining of a terrible | ''When I awoke, though I was still within my dream, I was struck by the strangest sensation. I was awake and I could see everything around me, but my body seemed to be moving on its own. I went about my typical routine: checking in with the hospital efforts in Seglock and assisting sick and weary refugees. Despite my commitment to being a cleric, I could tell that the day’s efforts were exhausting me. No, rather, it was more that they were boring me. I was upsettingly dismissive of an old woman who’d had her legs cut off and I outright ignored a man complaining of a terrible stomach ache. Though I now know it was entirely my imagination, it was horrific to see myself act so callously.'' | ||
''Then, the world around me ceased to be, and I saw strange glimpses of stardust scattered on the wind. The stardust swirled and exploded, creating little gleams of light that resembled constellations. It should have been beautiful, but I was struck with a sense of horrible vertigo. When I looked down, I was falling. I fell for ages without actually moving and all the while the constellations shifted and changed: they seemed less and less like stars and more like writhing black masses trying to break free from the light. Eventually, I could make out images. I think I saw <s>Father Netheroe</s> Mel in one of them. He was holding a scroll, and though I couldn’t make out what it said, it felt like it was a story of some sort: the tale of a young being raising themselves within a confusing world. I can’t remember ever reading a story like that.'' | ''Then, the world around me ceased to be, and I saw strange glimpses of stardust scattered on the wind. The stardust swirled and exploded, creating little gleams of light that resembled constellations. It should have been beautiful, but I was struck with a sense of horrible vertigo. When I looked down, I was falling. I fell for ages without actually moving and all the while the constellations shifted and changed: they seemed less and less like stars and more like writhing black masses trying to break free from the light. Eventually, I could make out images. I think I saw <s>Father Netheroe</s> Mel in one of them. He was holding a scroll, and though I couldn’t make out what it said, it felt like it was a story of some sort: the tale of a young being raising themselves within a confusing world. I can’t remember ever reading a story like that.'' | ||
''I hit the ground but felt no pain. My body was still no longer my own. I wandered through a field, observing the tall grass and roaming animals. By the time I left that field, they had all died. I was heading toward some towering building that looked to be facing the sun. The building was melting: I could see bits of walls and windows splattering against the ground.'' | ''I hit the ground, but felt no pain. My body was still no longer my own. I wandered through a field, observing the tall grass and roaming animals. By the time I left that field, they had all died. I was heading toward some towering building that looked to be facing the sun. The building was melting: I could see bits of walls and windows splattering against the ground.'' | ||
''After this, I finally awoke, but I couldn’t shake the scent of smoldering rubble. I am not entirely certain of my purpose in writing this down. Perhaps this is my attempt to make sense of my dream as I have been too tired and occupied to give interpretation an honest try. I feel strangely compelled to see if the scroll I claimed from the Servants can provide answers, but I dare not come into communion with… that thing. If I have a shred of luck, and I sincerely doubt that I do, maybe these words will always be nothing more than the ponderings of a restless mind. If only my Fey ancestors would lend me some of their fortune for the future.”'' | ''After this, I finally awoke, but I couldn’t shake the scent of smoldering rubble. I am not entirely certain of my purpose in writing this down. Perhaps this is my attempt to make sense of my dream as I have been too tired and occupied to give interpretation an honest try. I feel strangely compelled to see if the scroll I claimed from the Servants can provide answers, but I dare not come into communion with… that thing. If I have a shred of luck, and I sincerely doubt that I do, maybe these words will always be nothing more than the ponderings of a restless mind. If only my Fey ancestors would lend me some of their fortune for the future.”'' | ||
| Line 88: | Line 86: | ||
''<u>On the Future (8/31/22)</u>'' | ''<u>On the Future (8/31/22)</u>'' | ||
''"Recent events have made it evident that I have been far too lax. I fear my incessant trembling shall render my penmanship shaky at best. My situation is far worse than I previously thought. Not only has <s>Attianlo</s> | ''"Recent events have made it evident that I have been far too lax. I fear my incessant trembling shall render my penmanship shaky at best. My situation is far worse than I previously thought. Not only has <s>Attianlo</s> Att-Annalo latched onto my soul, but it has also <s>apprently</s> apparently grown strong enough to possess me. I know not what I did to encourage this surge in strength. Perhaps it has to do the machinations of the Servants. I can only be thankful that nothing horrific has happened as of yet.'' | ||
''Is it even safe for me to continue my work in Seglock? I shudder to think of what could happen where that being to take control while I was tending to someone. What about the research university? If it were to acquire the knowledge on display there, the results could prove disastrous. How much of my conscious mind has the abomination already probed? Can it see what I write at this very moment in time?'' | ''Is it even safe for me to continue my work in Seglock? I shudder to think of what could happen where that being to take control while I was tending to someone. What about the research university? If it were to acquire the knowledge on display there, the results could prove disastrous. How much of my conscious mind has the abomination already probed? Can it see what I write at this very moment in time?'' | ||
| Line 130: | Line 128: | ||
The rabbit’s shape appears in the opaque, cobwebbed window by the door. Reylendor thinks they look like a little guardian. Maybe he should give them a name. | The rabbit’s shape appears in the opaque, cobwebbed window by the door. Reylendor thinks they look like a little guardian. Maybe he should give them a name. | ||
The path he treads differs | The path he treads differs everyday. It would be confusing if the woods didn’t feel like an old friend. He’s learned to remember little things, like a flower blooming around a bent root and a tree hole that’s spiked around the edges—he sees a squirrel scurry into it with stuffed cheeks. | ||
Maybe it’s because wood elf has wood in the name but finding his footing in the forest comes as easily as walking; well, so long as he isn’t running around in an absolute frenzy. Reylendor pats his cloak down, ensuring it hasn’t caught on anything, and turns the corner into a grove. Nestled between two interwoven oak trees is a patch of oleander that he’s been nursing for at least a week. | Maybe it’s because wood elf has wood in the name, but finding his footing in the forest comes as easily as walking; well, so long as he isn’t running around in an absolute frenzy. Reylendor pats his cloak down, ensuring it hasn’t caught on anything, and turns the corner into a grove. Nestled between two interwoven oak trees is a patch of oleander that he’s been nursing for at least a week. | ||
On the opposite end of the forest, behind a bunch of moss-ridden logs lurks purple nightshade. | On the opposite end of the forest, behind a bunch of moss-ridden logs lurks purple nightshade. | ||
| Line 144: | Line 142: | ||
He’s never been entirely averse to killing. Reylendor chose the path of a healer to pay genuine kindness he’d experienced forward. Sometimes, kindness can only be born out of blood. Reylendor is grateful his mother taught him how to make tea out of anything. | He’s never been entirely averse to killing. Reylendor chose the path of a healer to pay genuine kindness he’d experienced forward. Sometimes, kindness can only be born out of blood. Reylendor is grateful his mother taught him how to make tea out of anything. | ||
Tending to all the different plants doesn’t take long. The rabbit is still there when he returns | Tending to all the different plants doesn’t take long. The rabbit is still there when he returns and the name Watcher comes to mind. Watcher hops down from their window perch when Reylendor opens the door and sits at his feet. Gloves long since removed, he reaches down to pet the rabbit’s head. Watcher nuzzles his hand and bounds onto the sofa, settling in for what looks like a nap. | ||
Reylendor sighs and heads back to the room that’s quickly become his. Something he misses about Seglock is all the noise. There was so much to be done and seemingly little time to do it. His time was occupied by patients, not errant thoughts. | Reylendor sighs and heads back to the room that’s quickly become his. Something he misses about Seglock is all the noise. There was so much to be done and seemingly little time to do it. His time was occupied by patients, not errant thoughts. | ||
Surrounded by woodland quiet as he is, the attack at Muso steadily creeps back into his head. He had wandered aimlessly for days when Oxan spotted him. Then | Surrounded by woodland quiet as he is, the attack at Muso steadily creeps back into his head. He had wandered aimlessly for days when Oxan spotted him. Then Flame reared his terrible head and, perhaps foolishly, Reylendor abandoned every apprehension to make a break for the town about to face fire and death. He hardly offered any help: the only spell he managed to cast against the dragon missed. It was Ona, not him, who held a crumbling tavern together and convinced civilians to flee for their lives. At the very least, Reylendor had healed the injured when everything was said and done. That, if nothing else, is something he’s always capable of. | ||
Reylendor shudders when he remembers blacking out. He had almost grown accustomed to it by then, but it had never been forced onto him. Yet, | Reylendor shudders when he remembers blacking out. He had almost grown accustomed to it by then, but it had never been forced onto him. Yet, Silent had merely said the word and his body was ripped away from him, thrust into the hands of that thing bubbling beneath the surface. | ||
If Silent had the power to set | If Silent had the power to set Att-Annalo loose… the threat of ensuring that Flame lived through the battle was venomous. He accepted their terms not for himself, but for the townspeople who were having their homes razed right in front of them. | ||
Still, it was inarguably, absolutely, sheer idiocy. One would think a former scribe should possess more sense than what he constantly put on display. Silent’s voice hasn’t come to him since he signed the contract, but Reylendor has no doubt that they’ll be back. | Still, it was inarguably, absolutely, sheer idiocy. One would think a former scribe should possess more sense than what he constantly put on display. Silent’s voice hasn’t come to him since he signed the contract, but Reylendor has no doubt that they’ll be back. | ||
He has flashes of what the being within him did as it took control. When Reylendor closes his eyes and stretches a hand toward its presence, he can see Flame, the mayor of Muso, and a contract with Deep Speech scrawled on it: it reads… The letters shift in his mind, but he can make out the way Mel always spelled | He has flashes of what the being within him did as it took control. When Reylendor closes his eyes and stretches a hand toward its presence, he can see Flame, the mayor of Muso, and a contract with Deep Speech scrawled on it: it reads… The letters shift in his mind, but he can make out the way Mel always spelled Att-Annalo. | ||
Reylendor laughs. He doesn’t particularly trust this fragment of memory. | Reylendor laughs. He doesn’t particularly trust this fragment of memory. Att-Annalo is unknowable, but the idea of it binding itself to a God of Death is too hilarious to be true. Though, perhaps it was. Perhaps they would both spend their lives as Silent’s tools. | ||
“What are you thinking about?” | “What are you thinking about?” | ||
| Line 186: | Line 184: | ||
“I think it was the woman who was here before you. She was a gnome. Spent a lot of time thinking, like you do.” Watcher rubbed their face, looking much more like an average rabbit in the process. “She left her ring behind. It’s somewhere in the kitchen.” | “I think it was the woman who was here before you. She was a gnome. Spent a lot of time thinking, like you do.” Watcher rubbed their face, looking much more like an average rabbit in the process. “She left her ring behind. It’s somewhere in the kitchen.” | ||
“Okay.” He never would have guessed that he would spend his free time truly talking to a bunny. Reylendor had adopted the habit of speaking to animals but conversing ''with'' them was another thing entirely. “Thank you for telling me.” | “Okay.” He never would have guessed that he would spend his free time truly talking to a bunny. Reylendor had adopted the habit of speaking to animals, but conversing ''with'' them was another thing entirely. “Thank you for telling me.” | ||
“Thank you for feeding me.” | “Thank you for feeding me.” | ||
Ah, he thought, an exchange. | |||
Searching the kitchen provides a good enough reason to get around to dusting. Reylendor plucks out some of the particularly thick cobwebs and uses a rag to wipe off countertops. Watcher follows him around. They don’t say anything else, but they still make for pleasant company. | Searching the kitchen provides a good enough reason to get around to dusting. Reylendor plucks out some of the particularly thick cobwebs and uses a rag to wipe off countertops. Watcher follows him around. They don’t say anything else, but they still make for pleasant company. | ||
| Line 196: | Line 194: | ||
Eventually, he finds a wooden ring tucked into the back corner of a cabinet. It has etchings, but they’re worn with age and Reylendor can’t quite tell what they are. He detects very faint traces of magic from it, but nothing strong enough to have a palpable effect. Reylendor secures the ring in his satchel. In the future, he may have the means to restore it. | Eventually, he finds a wooden ring tucked into the back corner of a cabinet. It has etchings, but they’re worn with age and Reylendor can’t quite tell what they are. He detects very faint traces of magic from it, but nothing strong enough to have a palpable effect. Reylendor secures the ring in his satchel. In the future, he may have the means to restore it. | ||
That’s ''if'' he isn’t executed for the crimes he intends to commit. | That’s ''if'' he isn’t executed for the crimes he intends to commit. | ||
==Languages== | |||
He picked up Common and Elvish from his parents and uses them most. He tries to avoid speaking Abyssal or Deep Speech without reason, since they’re a reminder of his time with the Servants, but will occasionally slip and mutter under his breath in one or the other, usually when stressed or paranoid. | |||
==Powers and Abilities== | |||
Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Mending, Minor Illusion, Spare the Dying, Toll the Dead, Word of Radiance. | |||
Always Prepared Spells: Beacon of Hope, Bless, Cure Wounds, Lesser Restoration, Revivify, Spiritual Weapon. | |||
Other Currently Prepped Spells: Aid, Comprehend Languages, Detect Magic, Glyph of Warding, Healing Word, Guiding Bolt, Inflict Wounds, Sanctuary, Zone of Truth. | |||
Channel Divinity: Preserve Life, Turn Undead. | |||
Other Skills: Mask of the Wild. | |||
Though he studied arcana for years, he’s very new to actual combat and prefers to hang back with healing or support spells. Recently, he’s learned to attack when the opportunity presents itself. | |||
==Attacks and Weapons == | ==Attacks and Weapons == | ||
Despite having a mace, Reylendor never uses it: he was never particularly strong and being exposed to a cult ritual certainly didn’t help his physicality. Reylendor also still has access to some warlock spells: he learned Eldritch Blast, Minor Illusion, and Comprehend Languages during his time as an initiate. He’s willing to use Minor Illusion to cause distractions and Comprehend Languages to aid communication or text deciphering, but he’s sworn off ever using Eldritch Blast again. To him, it’s far too directly connected to | Despite having a mace, Reylendor never uses it: he was never particularly strong, and being exposed to a cult ritual certainly didn’t help his physicality. Reylendor also still has access to some warlock spells: he learned Eldritch Blast, Minor Illusion, and Comprehend Languages during his time as an initiate. He’s willing to use Minor Illusion to cause distractions and Comprehend Languages to aid communication or text deciphering, but he’s sworn off ever using Eldritch Blast again. To him, it’s far too directly connected to Att-Annalo’s power. | ||
He also has a spell scroll detailing a ritual to achieve communication with | He also has a spell scroll detailing a ritual to achieve communication with Att-Annalo (he acquired it during his time as a scribe). | ||
[[Category:Player Characters]] | [[Category:Player Characters]] | ||
[[Category:Into the Greedy Green]] | [[Category:Into the Greedy Green]] | ||
