Ryan's Tiefling Warlock



Teifling Warlock (Deceptive Build/Fey Pact) lvl: 2

Age: 20; Unaligned; 6’ 2” 230lbs; Deity: Waukeen: An unaligned goddess associated with commerce and wealth

HP: 31; bloodied: 15; SV: 7; S/D: 8; Init: 1;

AC: 17; Fort: 14; Ref: 17; Will: 17; Speed: 6

languages: Common, Giant

  • Str: 12
  • Con: 14
  • Dex: 13
  • Int: 19
  • Wis: 13
  • Chr: 19


* Improved Misty Step

* Multi-class Warlord feat


* At-will: Eldritch Blast, Eyebite

* Encounter: Infernal Power, Witchfire, Encouraging Shout

* Daily Powers: Curse of the Dark Dream


Leather Armor, 2 daggers, Morning Star, Crossbow, 2 Quivers of 20 bolts,

Standard Adventurers kit, Thieves tools, Rod of corruption lvl 1, Wolf Cloak


Strange Origin

Ironically Never’s pull towards the Warlock arts did not come from his Tiefling Father but, from his human mother. She was a daughter of a minor nobel, Lord Fairwind, who had spent the sum of his fortune financing a troop of defenders to protect his lands and those of his town from evil humanoid bands seeking plunder.

Lord Fairwind, seeing his fortune teetering on the edge of ruin, was forced to arrange a marriage between his daughter and whomever might trade their wealth for the promise of his title being past on to the bridegroom-to-be’s children. The call was answered by a young Teifling name Suffer (suffering is life, especially to a farmer) who inherited a sizable estate from distant human relatives. The young Lady Alana Fairwind, then 16, reacted by, quite naturally, running for the hills. Eventually she apprenticed under a old tiefling warlock who saved her life during her flight. She came back after several years of adventuring when she was injured. Her left hand was torn from its socket by a denizen of the fey realm. It’s safe to say the experience kind of ruined her enjoyment of adventuring.

Her time with her aged Tiefling mentor softened her views of Teiflings and her new hand, a thing made from shadow and steel held together and animated by the souls of wicked men, gave anyone but a Tiefling the creeps. She married, her father got the funds needed to wage his war and she settled to a life of research in the towns watch tower, coming home ever night to her gentleman farmer husband.

The town, having already adjusted to the presence of a 6 foot tall mild mannered farmer demon took the marriage with moderate discomfort. Though, these people were very pragmatic and eventually accepted the union as necessary. This lead to a local sayings, “As sensible as marrying a Teifling” and “a Tieflings deal” to mean something that you don’t want to do but should or have to do anyway.


Eventually three boys were born of the union. Teiflings, being basically human, can mate with humans but, they always produce Teiflings. The oldest boy, Apollyon Fairwind, was declared by statute as heir to the Lordship and inheritor of the estate. The statute also forced the children to take the name “Fairwind”. He trained hard with his Grandfather and became a Warlord. Apollyon spends his days hunting down threats to the town. Usually this means orcs and goblins and the occational thief. He is well respected and a little bit feared.

The second son, Asmodeus Fairwind, was knighted after winning a grand tourney, was appointed second to his brother, and managed to carve out a small estate of his own. He learned the art of farming and woodsman-ship, becoming a ranger. He was granted the noble title, “Defender of the Wilderness” and after a short few years adventuring was recruited by the Harper’s Guild as their representative in the area. He still ventures into the wilds every so often on missions for his Grandfather or the Harpers.

Then there was the mama’s boy, Morthos Fairwind. Born to his parents somewhat later in life then his brothers, he was gifted with a sharp mind and charming wit. When he spoke, everyone listened. However, he had the tendency to keep to his studies and his estranged mother as a young child. He was simply too distant from most of the common people to shine like his much older brothers who in turn tended to underrate his abilities.

Morthos Fairwind’s otherwise calm childhood was spiked with resentment over his older brothers’ fame. Resentment lead to Morthos acting out against his teachers and other authority figures as a pre-teen. Stealing, picking locks and pockets became his past-time. These activities really served no purpose in a pratical sense. After all he didn’t need for money, his father and grandfather together had eventually secured there finances to a point were it could be resonably sustained for generations. He just yearned for the thrill of success. When he would get caught he had the wit and cleverness to charm or lie his way out of trouble. However, Morthos quickly realized that he could get even more satisfaction by turning those authority figures to his side by doing well in his studies and doing the sneaky things much more subtlely behind the scenes.

As a teenager his obsession with recognition lead Morthos to seek out power. He reasoned that if he had enough power his brothers had to admit that he had some use. His grandfather had already slotted him in to become a the head tax office with the title “Esquire”, the lowest title he had the ability to bestow. It was this news and the thought of becoming a clerk with nobility but, no real power, pushed him to fight back with real power. That in turn, lead him to the questionable arts of the Warlock.

Eventually he learned how to make a pact with an unnamed entity of the fey realm as his mother did. The pact made him a Warlock and once made can never be undone. His Grandfather never accepted his daughter’s choice of profession and was adamant about not letting his grandchildren follow suit. When he found out about the pact he stripped Morthos of his inheritance and vowed to never let him have any position of authority or importance as long as he lived. Realizing that his grandfather as well as his brothers couldn’t accept him and would never recognize his talents was a crushing blow to his pride. He decided to stayed at home for only a few years more to hone his skills and save enough money to set out on his own. Leaving the town of his birth he adopted the name “Never” to represent his seemingly cursed fate. One that he hopes to break by outshining his brothers in fame and fortune, any way he can.

So far, not so much….

Coming on this mission has been a growing experience. His obsession with finding fame conflicts with the low key nature of the objectives. Still, he needs new equipment and he figures here is as good as any place to start. Life seemed to be teaching him patience. Also he’s been able to deal a few good shots here and there and to have a few moments in the spotlight. Both boosted his confidence and fueled his ego.

As a noble from a noble family Never is always concerned with the outward appearance and reputation of not only himself but, those associated with him. He doesn’t mind deceit nor trickery he just thinks they should be kept quiet. Among the party he has wade out and calculated the impact of the members on those around them. He see’s no real issues save one; the fact that the paladin of the group, Garvenmov II, who worships the god of death and abhors undead is carrying around an undead artifact of some kind. It seems to be the shrunken head of a halfling. His outlook on the noble halfing race also seems dubious. For the good of the group and it’s reputation, Never has decided that something must be done about it. It seems also to be having some effect on the mind of the paladin.

After the fight with the orcs near Tarnuth’s Rest. Never hoped to make a few extra coins from the sale of the arms and armor of the fallen and also to take a memento or too that would remind him later of his start to fame. He thought that something from the leader of his first significant fight would be a good start. So he quickly claimed the orc Shaman’s cloak but, it turned out to be a stinky flea bitten rag. He took it anyway just because he was too stubborn to throw it away. Trying to wash it off in the water was a good idea but, it didn’t seem to help. Maybe it’ll be of some use? Would magic items stink so bad?

The interior of the tomb of Tarnuth’s rest showed the careful artistry of the Elven bloodlines and their love of nature. The magical murals over the walls and floors depicted the life of a powerful noble and to Never showed what a person of power could do before their time in this world was finished. Never was especially impressed with the second level’s floor map depiction. He wonders now if he could furnish a room with such a depiction for use as a war-room were the magic could also adjust itself to fit the changes of time.

The tombs treasures never really manifested themselves into reality for Never. A few traps overcome and a few guardians slain yielded only a few coins. Moreover Never was infuriated with the one real chance to gain magical power, when they had a chance to persuade the spirit of Tarnuth of their honorable intentions, was blundered horribly by the paladin’s increasingly insane ramblings. His own efforts to smooth things over yielded little result. A frustration time for Never and his quest for power. Our Dragonborn Warlord seemed also put off by the situation and confided in Never his intentions to leave the party citing a “poisonous atmosphere” within the group. This was a bad situation without a healer.

The party having exited the tomb was surprised by the appearance and then transformation of the parties bumbling benefactor wizard into a horrible Undead thing of shadow and bone.


Kyoto-Osaka Forgotten Realms! Futureechoes