D&D Characters: Shamorn Fallenheart, Tiefling Bard
As a bit of a side occupation, I like to engage in some character design for role-playing games, as it just comes as a natural extension of being a hobby-ish writer person.
Thus, I present: Shamorn Fallenheart, a tiefling bard from High Imaskar.
Birth — and over misgivings
Shamorn was born in Gheldaneth, the fading Mulanian metropolis of High Imaskar, and his parents believed in the prophecies stating Shamorn to bring forth better times for the tiefling folk of the Gheldaneth slums. Being raised in a community of hired hands to accompany adventurers on dangerous treasure hunts through the depths of the sunken city, hopes were laid on him, and him alone, to liberate them from this life of unofficial slavery.
Early life
Our young tiefling was always a bit pampered. The male role models of the community were often too busy getting killed on a foolish quest, as was Shamorn’s own father — shortly before his fourth birthday. As it were, there was none of the usual goading and testing a tiefling endures as part of growing up. The consequences of this, as well as the pampering he received by his mother and other “faithfuls”, would be dire indeed.
Thus Shamorn grew to be a young adult, helping out everywhere in the community, without ever taking up a real job. He had many on and off teachers, versing him in skills as @skills and the heritage of the tiefling race, training him in the use of weapons and telling stories of heroic deeds throughout time.
Constantly surrounded by an appreciation for life, for heroism, the history and culture of his people and a will to bring good to them, it came as a great surprise to many that Shamorn Fallenheart, Prophesied Saviour of the Gheldaneth Tieflings, came to start training to be…
… a bard.
There was a wandering Elven Bard in Gheldaneth at the time, and Shamorn choose to apprentice himself to him, believing that becoming a bard, a herald of their people, would be worth much more than simply slaughtering any would-be oppressors or being a leader to guide the people to their Promised Land.
As was to be expected, his decision did not sit well with some, if not most, of his elders. His mother came just short of disinheriting him, and he was forever branded as a wimp by most others. Still, there were some people who still believed in him, and he managed to stay in the community, even though everyone tried to forget about any kind of prophesy laid upon him.
The turning point
His apprenticeship was going well, all things considered. But his teacher, unbeknowest to him, was a bit of a braggart and ignorant, that is to say: not a very good bard. Still, Shamorn managed to master his natural graps of the Arcane under his tutorship, even though the social values might have been slightly distorted.
Sadly, this distortion and the infusion of heroic tales led to an unfortunate incident. A rough band of treasure hunters, with a fierce reputation for their harsh effectiveness and rumours of a brutal and unrelenting manner towards opposition, sought out their enclave to hire some of their men for help. So, after a few minutes of shouting, waving of weapons and dragging people out of their hovels, Shamorn thought it was time to act.
Bravely stepping forward, he confronted the leader of the scavengers, demanding of him to cease these despicable acts and appealing to his good sense, as a man, to respect his people’s wishes.
The screams as the leader’s minions started slaughtering the women and children are still stuck in Shamorn’s head. He still only has vague memories of that moment, but there is one thing he is quite confident of:
As his mother’s lifeless body was thrown in front of him, crumpled up in a heap, he snapped. Shamorn went into a rage, slamming into the minions and fighting them fiercely. It seemed the demon in him had taken control, for he was full of laughter at the slaughter he was causing, taunting his enemies as he smashed their faces in with his $weapon or embedded his daggers into their hearts, even just ripping into them with his claws and biting as he went along.
It did not take long for him to cut through the minions, emerging bathed in blood, eldritch powers abound and flames crackling around his body. His Elven master bard was astonished at the display, and recognized the potential of a warlock in him should he have even been trained thusly. As it was, the teacher preferred to cower in fear and observe what happened next.
Shamorn confronted the leader of the scavengers who was just standing there, shocked to his core.
“This is what happens when you try to compel my folk, human!” the bard stated in an almost neutral voice, only a hint of a burning darkfire noticable in the voice. And with that, he slew the leader of the group that brought death to his kin.
And as if by miracle, Shamorn immediately calmed down to his usual, naive self. The only hint at his monstrosity was the fact that he surveyed the slaughter he had caused without fear, shame or disgust. Looking around him, he found few people left alive. Some were cowering inside their hovels, either hiding their faces or staring out at him with fear. Others seem to have run a way, and it was eerily silent.
Shamorn cleared his throat. “My master, I will be leaving now. Do you wish to accompany me?”
His master, still shaking slightly, replied “No, my apprentice. I do not think that you need me any further. Consider your training complete.”
And with these short words, the recently orphaned Shamorn Fallenheart set out into the Realms, venturing forth to herald his people — and to leave this blighted home which has been cursed by his deeds.
The character statistics will follow as soon as I have access to the relevant documents again. I might also write a short story or two detailing the background or later adventures.