With out powers cobined! This week rorrik and I are harking back to Homebrewing Content with TC Sottek. If you’re here, I bet it’s because you love to practice homebrew, so below we have images you may have seen in the daily DMNastics on twitter (Monster Monday, Terrain Tuesday, Weapon Wednesday, Thaumaturgy Thursday, Philter Friday, Soldier Saturday, and Slayer Sunday). Now’s our chance to go a little deeper on these inspirational images. No character limits here! Pick an image and go to work!
Grimcloaks are, in a word, terrifying, and are shroudedha in mystery. Though they are thought to be in some way related to Cloakers, their origins are unknown. Grimcloaks appear as a painted mask with an attached short cloak while in hibernation awaiting their next victim; the exact appearance varies by individual specimen. When the mask and cloak in donned by a creature, the Grimcloak might attempt to possess the wearer. Grimcloaks possess some level of intelligence (though to what degree is debated) but how they choose victims remains largely hypotheticallyShould the Grimcloak succeed in possessing the unfortunate body, it rapidly expands in size, itself forming a large body with the host suspended above the ground at the mask. In this form Grimcloaks are mostly humanoid but have large forearms they use to aid their movements (think gorilla) and somewhat undersized legs. If left unbothered after taking a host, Grimcloaks will seek out a secluded area and begin feeding, wandering about in a small area as they do so.
Grimcloaks feed on something from within the host. Some say they feast on the soul, others say magic, and some maintain that it is psychic energy. Whatever the case may be, when they have have finished feeding off of a host, they allow it to fall to the ground wherever they stand. Afterwards, they will find a new place to lie in wait for a victim and hibernate in their disguised form. Traveling salesmen and carters occasionally "acquire" Grimcloaks among their wares while between settlements, and either sell them or make the poor choice to put them on themselves.
While active, Grimcloaks will attempt to deceive or flee from any aggressors before resorting to combat. It can communicate in a slightly distorted form of the host's voice, and will adopt verbal mannerisms of the host. Grimcloaks will use this ability to deter attacks against itself. Should it come to physical combat, Grimcloaks are tricky and ruthless though not the strongest of foes. They will use their large forearms to attack, attempting to keeping opponents at a distance. Whenever possible, they will divert attacks directed at them towards their host instead.
Tessawyn Faellawick Half-Elf Ranger Age 27 ￼ Tessawyn (Or Tess) is the eldest of 5 daughters. She and her sisters live with their father in a cottage at the edges of the Elderwood. Her mother, Leandra of Whitehallow, passed away in childbirth when her youngest sister was born and Tess was all but 11 years old. She did everything she could to help her father who would on occasion be drafted into the Imperial Army. It was up to her to look after her sisters, patch the roof, hunt when able, trap and forage and protect their land.
She has a kind heart, sharp wit, and even keener perception. It was not uncommon for a lost traveler or hopeful adventurer to fall upon their house unexpected, thus she learned quickly how to read one’s intentions and dissuade dishonest guests. She trained daily using her mother’s old bow and became one of deadliest archers East of the Whispering Peaks. It was this skill that saved her father’s life.
Together the two were foraging deep in the woods when they were suddenly set upon by a large boar who charged her unsuspecting father. He was thrown by the beast and nearly gored but before the boar could rear back, two arrows from Tess’ bow found deep purchase in the back of its skull.
The battle was won, but damage had been done. Her father’s leg was broken, and soon had to be amputated as an unknown infection began to spread. Though his life was spared, the wellbeing of the household fell then to Tess.
They expanded their cottage with the aide of her sisters, and turned their humble home into an inn far off the beaten trail. They named it Meadow’s End. Her father worked the books, her sisters the cooking and cleaning, while Tess herself offered employment as a guide, hunter, and guard to any who wished safe passage through the Elderwood, for no one knew the secrets of that forrest, both dark and enchanting, better then Tessawyn.
The death-ssassin This frightful undead is when a necromancer raises a skeleton to powerful for him to control this usually happens when the corpse of a powerful murderer or assassin is used in the ritual the skeleton is not controlled be the necromancer but instead the still driving power of the blood lust of its past life, the skeleton then turns on his would be master and if successful in killing the necromancer gains power and strength becoming a death-ssassin its unstoppable blood lust is then unleashed to wreck havoc upon the world and seeks to make a lair for himself with the skulls of its former victims in order to bring would be heroes to seek him in order to fulfill his desire to show that nothing is unkill-able for him. Not even death.
Calith reluctantly pushed the door open and light burst into the cavern on the other side. As she stepped into the room, gloom struck her, as it had with every other room in this... place. The walkway was unfinished. The walls lined with books. It felt as though days were going by, yet nothing changed. The twin suns shone light through the windows, and she wandered the halls, looking for doors that would open. All of them were like this one. She turned to leave, but noticed a book out of place, fallen to the edge of the walkway. She picked it up, and reached toward where it appeared to have been torn from the shelves, but decided to look in first. She opened the book, and began to read. "Calith reluctantly pushed the door open and light burst into the cavern on the other side." She yelped and dropped the book. It landed open faced on the walkway. Calith could see words appearing on the blank page, but didn't dare read them. She slammed the book shut and crammed it in-between two sizeable tomes on the shelves she could reach beside the door. She sighed, and walked out into the hallway, the doors shut behind her with force. She hesitated a moment and continued walking down the corridor to the next set of doors, sure she would find the same thing... But hopefully not another strange book.
This room is what those under the Dewey Mind Trap spell endure. Night and day pass each blink of their eyes, and they are trapped in their mind, needing to find their way out through the books that contain their thoughts. Requires an intelligence check to avoid the trap, and each day they can make another check to see if they can break out. The spell lasts up to a week. Some wizards actually use the spell on one another, finding ways to remind themselves that they are in a mind trap. They then use the time in their heads to study their spells, analyze their performance, and make plans to expand the use of their spells. This is strictly banned by the Wizarding colleges though, as it is cheating, and puts the affected persons body under extreme malnurishment.
2nd-level abjuration (available to clerics and paladins)
Casting time: 1 action
Duration: 1 minute
Description: This spell converts the danger of a missile attack into the protective healing warmth of your deity. The first time an enemy hits you with a ranged weapon attack before the spell ends, a 3-inch diameter circle of holy energy imposes itself between you and the missile, increasing your AC by 5 for that attack. If the increased AC would cause the attack to miss, the missile passes through the circle, disintegrates and is replaced by a spark of divine energy that strikes you instead, healing you by 2d6 hit points instead of dealing damage. If the missile is too big to fit through the circle, such as a giant's rock, the spell immediately ends with no effect.
At higher levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 4th level or higher, you can increase the circle's diameter up to 1 foot. If you cast this spell using a spell slot of 6th level or higher, you can increase the circle's diameter up to 10 feet.
Post by captaindialup on Sept 12, 2018 3:11:54 GMT
Place #3. The Tower of Ioun. The tower originally stood as a beacon of knowledge and worship to Ioun. The tower doesn't appear very tall, maybe 50' with the entrance halfway up, but once inside you would see that the tower stretches beyond eyesight with shelves and shelves of books. Knowledge of the universe for all to find, if you search hard and long enough. Unfortunately during the March of Abraxas, a curse was placed on the tower. Now finding The knowledge you require is easy. there's just a price. You have to jump. The fall won't kill but your life's story fills the pages of an empty book as you become one with the library and all its knowledge at your fingertips.
(I might grab another one of these if no one claims them soon)
Item Name: Wood Nectar Item Type: Potion Rarity: Very Rare Description: This glowing green fluid often comes in crystal glass vials, or in even rarer cases, larger bottles. A single leaf appears to be floating within the liquid.
It contains 1d4+2 doses (1d8+2 for larger bottles). Imbibing a single dose grants the drinker with the benefits of the Barkskin spell. Imbibing two doses grants the drinker with the benefits of the Speak with Plants spell. And finally, consuming three doses will transform the drinker into a Treant. Upon transforming, the drinker retains their Intelligence, Charisma, and Wisdom scores, but will attain Temporary Hit Points equal to the Monster’s Stats and gain (or lose) ability scores to match a Treant’s Dexterity and Strength scores. Upon losing all of the Temporary Hit Points, dying, or losing consciousness, the drinker will revert to their normal form.
The twist of this magical potion is that consuming more than three doses between long rests requires the drinker to succeed on a Constitution saving throw (DC 18) each time they take a dose exceeding three. On a fail, they are permanently transformed into a tree. Only a Wish spell or Greater Restoration spell cast at 9th Level is enough to reverse the transformation.
Over the course of a few weeks, Billingston was hit with two bizarre catastrophes. The first was a dust storm that lasted a day and a half. Several people had gotten lost and only found their way home days later, their skin blistered, their eyes scratched with sand. The blacksmith's plump young wife went blind. The cobbler and his horse succumbed to the storm and died overnight. The mayor and her children disappeared from the fields until a day later, when they miraculously returned unharmed.
The second catastrophe was the crows. They came in the night like a sickness.
Billingston was overrun. In a town of four hundred people, there were nearly twenty or thirty crows for every human being. The baker used to place his cherry pies on the window sill to fill the air with warmth and cheer but now he had shut his blinds, lest the crows swoop into his bakery and consume every last scrap of bread in minutes. Children used to dance and play outside unstructured, strangers mingling as friends, but now their mothers locked them inside the house while beady-eyed crows glared at the doors. Each day the farmers would lead the ox the town shared to the fields, and each day the ox would snort and stamp its hooves and refuse to move for fear of getting dive-bombed, and of course the farmers would eventually give up and lead it back.
In the dead of night, a young boy could be spotted sneaking out and feeding the crows scraps of food from his dinner. He took kindly to one crow, a crow with only one leg and streaks of grey in its fur. And in the daytime, the mayor's daughter would shriek at anyone who dared even look at a rock to throw at the birds. The girl resorted once to physically wrestling a stick out of her friend's hands. That same one-legged grey crow seemed to caw in appreciation, as if it knew.
The weather was starting to get cold this time of Autumn. Winter was approaching quickly. If the town couldn't reap their harvest for fear of the crows, they would starve by January.
After a week and a half, the townsfolk got together to discuss the issue. They met in the town hall, and those who arrived early felt no amusement at the plight of those running across the main street with their coats over their heads, swatting away dozens upon dozens of swooping crows. The screech of the crows sounded like the continuous crashing of a tidal wave. When the last few people made it past the doors, their coats were shredded from their assault from beak and claw.
The mayor informed the town that she knew the source of the crows. Three weeks ago, while she and her son and daughter were playing in the fields and the dust storm had hit, they got turned around in the darkness and were unable to find their way home. As the storm got worse, the mayor said, she had been visited by a spirit that had told her the only way to return home was to accept the guidance of crows, and in return the town would be a haven for its brethren. She agreed, but the spirit was unsatisfied. Her son, Henry, promised the crows would be fed. Her daughter, Phillipa, promised they would be safe.
Of course the rest of the townsfolk were appalled -- their own mayor was the source of their misery! Rather than listen to her pleas to let the crows stay and work alongside them, they gathered up a host of crossbows that passing adventurers had left them and loaded them up with rocks and sticks (for they had no bolts). The townsfolk rampaged outside with their weapons and pelted the crows with anything they could find.
By the end of the day, a hundred crows lay dead in the streets. The rest of the crows took flight. But they didn't leave the town. They remained in the air, circling slowly in a ring of black wings.
The next day the crows were gone. The skies were clear. One by one the townsfolk rose and stepped outside, some still in their nightgowns, marvelling at the quiet.
Until an enormous talon crushed the bakery.
The sky went dark. The sun blocked the sheer size of the creature. A celestial giant, the size of a mountain, its body lined with shining feathers that glowed with a yellow sheen in the dull sunlight.
The mayor fell to her knees and cried for the spirit to spare her village, but it was too late. Its mighty wings flapped and a wave of dust blasted through the town, stripping the paint off the buildings, collapsing the less sturdy structures, blowing people clean off their feet. Another flap and the dust picked up, drowning the city in darkness.
Before the third flap of its mighty wings, the mayor wrapped Henry and Phillipa in their coats and told them to run. It didn't matter what direction. Just run.
They held hands and ran. Any direction. Stumbling through dust and debris. A crow appeared to them in the darkness -- a grey crow with one leg.
Soon the children were out of the dust. They found themselves on an open field, their town engulfed in a black cloud behind them. But they couldn't stop running. They were in the shadow of the great celestial giant, still determined to eradicate every trace of the town from existence. And somehow they both then knew its name: The Silo.
They sprinted across the fields. The fields were blasted and flat and dead from the various dust storms earlier. The Silo hobbled after them, each step taking more than a minute due to its size yet it had no trouble keeping pace.
As they ran with their backs to the Silo they could still hear it -- the combined screech of a million crows lost in the dust -- and they could feel its talons sinking into the earth behind them -- and they could smell its earthy musk, like damp feathers -- and they could taste the particles of dust in the air as it spread its wings to send them tumbling into oblivion.
But the great flap of its wings never came again. The children made it to the tree line at the other end of the field and collapsed into a ravine, huddling underneath their coats. They could see the Silo through the line of trees but it wasn't moving. Just standing, its wings poised to strike, but the strike never coming.
Sitting on top of one of its wings, Phillipa thought she could see the faintest silhouette of a crow with one leg.
Henry blinked, and the Silo was gone. Disappeared like it was never there at all. He turned to his sister -- did you see it too? -- and yes, she saw it, and yes, it was gone.
And yes, their home was gone forever.
Eventually the two of them agreed that it was safe to come out of hiding beneath their coats. They debated going back to the village to look for their mother and for other survivors, but both of them knew deep in their hearts there would be nothing left of the town but broken buildings, the paint stripped from the walls. Nothing but broken buildings ... and skeletons picked clean.
So, instead, they set off along the river. There were other towns. There were other people. And there were other crows in the world, ever searching for a home, ever destroying the homes they thought they had found.
The one-legged grey crow alighted upon Phillipa's shoulder.
Henry plucked a berry and offered it to the crow.
It snapped up the berry. It leaned its neck back and cawed at the sky.
Post by reoccurringdm on Sept 19, 2018 8:57:37 GMT
Once a simple farm boy who was called to serve in the army when the War of Lords started. That will turn out the most pivotal moment in his eternal life. At the beginning the was weak and inexperienced. At end of the battle on River Livost, he was injured in the foot and nearly died, and only accidental arrow saved him from a very common death for a soldier. He was sent home, which triggered something inside him. He knew that his Lord was losing, and yet even now they do not need him in the army. For some reason that deeply offended him, even though it is common practice for officers.
Upon arriving home, he found caring for the farm very boring, he did not know exactly way. He started practicing with a wooden sword and flour bags. As soon as he got better he felt something new, no, not new, it was familiar and yet forgotten. He feels a sense of progression and achievement. That feeling was so exhilarating that he started practicing more. Eventually, this sense diminished. Luckily and a rebellion broke out in the neighboring kingdom that allowed his Lord to exploit and attack the adjacent lands. This time he signs up himself.
However, this battle did not go his way either. He was good, yes, but saw so much better warriors, knights, and mages. There were just too many people stronger than him. When he returned to the farm he knew exactly what he is going to do. He sold his property and bought a horse, weapons and several armor pieces, and set himself to the East. He started going village by village challenging anyone to duel, every time leaving barely alive and with the priceless experience. The father he got, the more exotic fighting styles got. He had to adjust every time to a new challenger.
After 10 years he becomes the most famous warrior in the land. Now people went to him to challenge him and not the other way around. But, once, a naked man fit a fit built challenged him. Kiltas never was arrogant and believed to be disrespectful to a guest not to honor the request. They have been fighting for 10 days without any break. At the end of 10th day, the man revealed himself to be Kord - the god of brawling. He asked to be his Enforcer/Right Hand after his death for which he will grant him any wish. Kiltas knew that there are yet so many warriors yet to come that may be stronger than him, he did not want to leave, but ages a passing by quickly. Then he asked, that the only way for him to die will by "Fair Duel". Kord only smiled and left.
Ever since that day, he stopped aging. And his mastery of martial arts is only increasing. Who would win him? Will Kord forever be without his favorite enforcer?
Item #4 Gravity sword for the most part this sword is a simple long sword but it you hit an enemy with it and get a natural 20 the opponent must make a strength saving throw or fall prone, if they succeed they stay standing but if they want to move they must pass a higher saving throw or fall prone, but if the character that uses this sword rolls a natural 1 the sword instead of making the opponent heavier makes them lighter and acts as if the haste spell was cast on them instead.
When you hit a creature with this sword, it must succeed on a DC 13 Strength saving throw or fall under the sword's gravity effects. While under these effects, the target's movement speed is halved, and it takes one action to stand up from a prone position. Additionally, the target has disadvantage on Strength (Athletics) checks and melee attack rolls. At the end of each of its turns, the target can remake the saving throw, ending the effects on a success. Otherwise, the effects end after one minute.
Each time this effect triggers, roll a d20. On a roll of 1, instead of the regular effects, the target becomes affected by the fly spell for one minute.
Post by ThePlayerlessDM on Sept 28, 2018 1:42:06 GMT
The Kinsguide is a peaceful nature spirit borne of terrible tragedy. When a family or group of very close friends dies because of exposure to natural elements, a spirit manifests from the trees and brush around them, this spirit then mimics the face of each of the dead onto a mask, collecting the soul of each into the mask. The Kinsguide only purpose is to return these masks to the loved ones of the deceased. After bequeathing the masks to the family of the dead, the Kinsguide returns to the area of the tragedy and guides those who are lost,through the woods. If someone does die while in their roaming area, they will collect the soul of that person in a mask and return it to their loved ones.