Dungeons & Dragons Character Lore

VolantConch1719

Although the store downgrade update made it VERY annoying to access the character lore (they removed the lovely F1 character card, which also leads to several Killer powers getting cut off, INCLUDING VECNA), I was still able to this out.

Aestri Yazar & Baermar Uraz

Aestri and Baermar arrived in the Free City of Greyhawk to trade songs and stories with the locals. But what the bards learned during their visit would set them on their final adventure.

According to locals and travelers alike, a new magic unlike any other was spreading across the land. The forces of evil were disappearing from every corner of the land, leaving no trace of their malevolence. There was such rejoicing throughout Greyhawk, but Aestri and Baermar felt differently. A bard’s purpose in life was to celebrate triumph over adversity. A world without evil would be a world with no new songs to sing.

Aestri knew what she had to do. She scoped out the taverns and back alleys of the city, looking for adventurers willing to help her find the source of this strange new magic. Many turned her down–why would she want evil to return to the land? But using her wit and charisma, Aestri was able to inspire enough townsfolk to join her in restoring the balance between good and evil.

Together, this ragtag troupe of adventurers traveled through swamplands and under mountains. They were driven out of towns by those who believed the troupe was secretly in league with the evil that had been eradicated. Every so often, folks would b e kind enough to provide food, shelter and, most importantly, information. Baermar eagerly wrote down every clue and rumor they heard and concluded that the source of this strange magic must lie near the Kingdom of Keoland, where people spoke of an ancient tower emerging from its ruins, being instantly rebuilt bigger and stronger than it was before.

Their suspicions were confirmed as the troupe made their way south, Villagers spoke of the tower–and its lord–in hushed tones, but Aestri knew the place by its reputation. They were traveling to the Rotted Tower, stronghold of the Arch-Lich Vecna.

As they drew closer to the Rotted Tower, the troupe could feel evil magic in the air. They steeled themselves for a fight with Vecna, but were shocked to find the Rotted Tower was completely empty. They made their way up the spiral staircase, passing window after window of shattered stained glass, until they reached the top of the tower. Amidst the debris, Aestri found a hastily-written scroll.

Baermar was eager to show off his proficiency in arcana. He studied the scroll and realized the words were an incantation, written phonetically. As he sang the words aloud, the tower began to rumble. Black fog crept in through the stone floor. Aestri stopped Baermar from his recitation, but it was too late. The fog took hold of the adventurers, and within moments they were gone.

The Lich

The Whispered One. Lord of the Rotted Tower. The Master of Secrets. Few dare speak his true name, for fear that he may hear–or worse.

Even as a young wizard, Vecna’s command of magic was matched by none. While others spent decades committing to and perfecting one school of magic, he effortlessly mastered each one of them. After his mother’s execution for witchcraft, his focus became obsession as he pored the most of his study into the darkest school of magic–necromancy, the magic of life and death.

As his power grew, so did his ambition. Over the centuries, he shed his mortal shell and ascended to lichdom. His power gave rise to a great empire, ruled over from his Rotted Tower.

His thirst for dark knowledge to fill his Book of Vile Darkness led him to many realms and planes. But it was in his own realm one of his servants found something–a spell, perhaps, torn from an ancient tome–written in a language he had never seen. From it, he could sense an incredible dark energy. Without any document of the language, he had to spend months painstakingly analyzing its syntax, its phonetics, its form. He documented every stroke of every letter, scrutinizing and theorizing on their meanings, in a massive book hidden in his chambers. When his lieutenants came to him with problems in their doman, Vecna told them to deal with it themselves. He had more important matters to attend to.

Countless nights were spent memorizing the strange script, attempting to make it make sense. Only occasionally would he leave his keep to investigate rumors of people who had disappeared without a trace in the night. At these scenes, he could sense the same foreign magic that emanated from the torn page. He was convinced that whatever was killing these people had also written this strange script.

He was confounded, which made him furious. THe scenes, few and far between, had no pattern, no common motive. No sign of struggle, no body, and only a lingering hum of dark energy. To what end did they need these bodies?

One dark night, he had a breakthrough: a word he had been interpreting as “dying” made more sense as “disappearing.” Perhaps these people were not being killed at all: perhaps they were being taken alive. He applied this substitution through his notes and everything seemed to fall in place.

He copied what he had learned to a fresh piece of parchment, written phonetically. He began to speak the words aloud and the room darkened. It filled with a creeping black fog. He felt himself displacing, going somewhere else. Vecna resisted, incanting memorized spells, holding the fog at bay. But as he gazed into the darkness, he felt that alluring energy from it: a despair, an evil he could scarcely imagine. A sick curiosity overcoming him, he dropped his concentration, and he let the fog take him. Whatever it was, wherever it was, he understood that the only way to harness it was to submit to it. He knew, in his cold, unbeating heart, that its dark secrets would one day be his.