z - Bertholdt Rohrbach (Departed)

Level 3 Half-Elf Fiendtouched Sorceror

Description:

Half-Elf Fiendtouched Sorceror (Brass) [CN]

Basic Stats:

STR: 12 DEX: 12 CON: 9 (w. injury) INT: 9 WIS: 10 (w. Fiend Transformation) CHA: 16
HP: 16 AC: 11 XP: 4110 Save Proficiencies: CON, CHA
Passive Perception: 13 Passive Investigation: 9 Spell Save DC: 13 Speed: 30

Trained Skills:

Skill Bonus Notes
Deception +3 Occasional Disadvantage (Fiendish Aura)
History +1 None
Intimidate +5 Occasional Advantage (Fiendish Aura)
Perception +3 None
Persuasion +5 Occasional Disadvantage (Fiendish Aura); Constant Disadvantage re: Seduction
Stealth +3 None
Tools +3 Gaming Set – Gambling Cards
Languages: Common Elvish Draconic Dwarvish Undercommon
Attack To Hit Range Damage Components Notes
Chill Touch +5 120’ 1d8 Necrotic V / S Target cannot heal next round; Disadvantage to attack me if Undead.
Create Bonfire Dex Save 13 5’ area w/in 60’ 1d8 Fire V / S Conc. (up to 1 Minute) to maintain.
Eldritch Blast +5 120’ 1d10 Force V / S More beams at Levels 5 (2 Beams), 11 (3 Beams), 17 (4 Beams) – all target independently.
Frostbite Con Save 13 60’ 1d6 Cold V / S Target has disadvantage on next attack.
Aganazzar’s Scorcher (Level 2) Dex Save 13 30′ × 10′ × 5′ 3d8 Fire V / S / M (Dragon Scale) 1/2 Damage on Dex Save. +1d8 Fire per Spell Level boosted.
Burning Hands (Level 1) Dex Save 13 15’ cone 3d6 Fire V / S 1/2 Damage on Dex Save. +1d6 Fire per Spell Level boosted.
Dagger [Thrown] + 3 [+3]
Melee [20’/60’] 1d4+1 Piercing N/A 2 in Inventory.
Parsifal (Flammenspeer) [Thrown] + 3 [+3] Melee [20’/60’] 1d6+1 Force, 1d8+1 Force (2H) [1d6+1 Force] N/A 2 Charges of Burning Hands (Action, must be holding Percy.)
Traits
  • Fey Ancestry: Advantage to saves vs. Charm; cannot be magically induced to sleep.
  • Skill Versatility: 2 skills of choice, 1 language of choice.
  • Nobleman: I can gain audience with the ruling elite if they recognize my rank, and in civilized society I will generally be allowed to act as I please by those of equivalent rank or lower (within reason).
  • Grandmother’s Favour: I gain +1 HP per level due to Grandmother Dryad’s boon.
  • Chain Lord’s Kiss: I gain the Magic Initiate (Warlock) Feat due to my deal with the Chain Lord.
  • Chain Lord’s Blessing: When I reduce a hostile creature to 0 hit points, I gain THP equal to CHA Mod + Sorceror Level (6) from the stirring in my Fiend-tainted blood.
Font of Magic (3 SP, recover on Long Rest):
  • Fuel The Flames: 2 SP can become 1 1st-level slot or vice-versa (Bonus action)
  • Quickened Spell: Cast spell as bonus action. (2 SP)
  • Twinned Spell: Single Target spell has 2 targets (1 SP/Level, Cantrip = 1 SP)
Cantrips Known (6):
  • Chill Touch (+5 to hit, 120’; 1d8 Necrotic, Target cannot heal next round, Disadv. to attack me if undead) (V, S, Action)
  • Create Bonfire (5-foot area w/in 60’, Save DEX DC 13 or 1d8 Fire, Conc. up to 1 minute.) (V, S, Action)
  • Eldritch Blast (+5 to hit, 120’; 1d10 Force) (V, S, Action) – A beam of force. More w. level.
  • Frostbite (Save CON DC 13, 60’; 1d6 Cold dmg., Target has Disadvantage on next weapon attack before end of its next turn) (V, S, Action)
  • Mage Hand (Spectral hand can go w/in 30 ft., pick up and carry items < 10 lbs., open unlocked doors, etc.) (Action to summon or to control, lasts 1 minute) (V, S, Action to make/move, 1 min. duration)
  • Mending (I repair a single break or tear in an object I touch (a broken chain link, two halves of a broken key, a torn cloak, or a leaking wineskin, etc.) so long as it is no larger than 1 ft. in any direction. I can repair magic items’ form but not restore their magic) (V, S, M (2 lodestones), 1 Minute casting time)
1st-Level Spells Known (3):
  • Burning Hands (15 ft. cone of 3d6 (2: 4d6) Fire damage to all w/in; DC 13 Dex save for 1/2) (V, S, Action)
  • Hex (Target I can see w/in 90’ takes 1d6 Extra Necrotic, Disadv. on Ability Checks of 1 stat, Concentration up to 1 hr.) (V, S, M (Eye of Newt), Bonus Action) ONCE A DAY
  • Shield (+5 to AC until start of next turn, including triggering attack, no damage from Magic Missile) (V, S, Reaction to attack that hits)
2nd-Level Spells Known (2):
  • Aganazzar’s Scorcher (30 l x 10 h x 5 w wall of 3d8 Fire, DC 13 DEX save for 1/2) (V, S, M (a small draconic scale), Action)
  • Enhance Ability (1 willing creature I touch gains advantage on checks for one Stat as follows – 1 ) Bear’s Endurance (CON, +2d6 THP); 2) Bull’s Strength (STR, 2x Carrying Capacity); 3) Cat’s Grace (DEX, No falling damage under 20 ft.); 4) Eagle’s Splendour (CHA); 5) Fox’s Cunning (INT); Owl’s Wisdom (WIS) – for the duration.) (V, S, M (fur or feather), Action) (Conc., 1 hour)
Inventory (Capacity = ~65 / 180 lbs.)
Weapons, Armor, Clothing:
Item # Weight (Total)
Dagger 2 2 lbs.
Arcane Focus – Parsifal 1 3 lbs.
Robes (Forest Green) 1 0.5 lbs
Other:
Item # Weight
Backpack 1 5 lbs.
Climbing Kit (60’ silk rope, 10 x pitons, craghammer) 1 10.5 lbs.
Rations 4 8 lbs.
Sleeping Kit (Bedroll / Tent / Tinderbox) 1 28 lbs.
Waterskin 1 5 lbs. (full)
Ritual Components 6 3 lbs.
In My Quarters
Item # Worth (Monetary)
Cashbox 1 0 GP
Debt List 1 A note: “All is forgiven. Wot wot.”

Bio:

Bertholdt Rohrbach came from an Old Church of Bahamut family – long sermons, scratchy wooden benches, disapproval of most activities that weren’t obsessively saving money and singing “By Thine Scales We Are Redeemed” in drafty cathedrals. His family were ALSO the staggeringly wealthy guardians of river traffic out of the port down of Holmsburgh. The possible contradiction between a faith emphasizing desperate austerity and their seven-course breakfasts bothered Bertholdt more than the rest of his family, but he held his tongue.

Bertholdt was not a naturally clever boy, but he was trained from birth in etiquette, poise, and the languages of the more affluent human and demi-human communities. He can help a lady back into her coach-and-four, sing a passable roundelay, talk a great deal while saying very little, and write an appropriate letter to an angry husband while avoiding a duel. These skills were highly prized in the diplomatic corps, and as a member of the House of the Dragon (so known for their piety), his future was mapped out – hopping consulate to consulate until a prestigious ambassadorial post, and eventually a Ministry, gave him the resources to marry well and pull the Rohrbachs one step closer from ‘Grudgingly Respected Provincials’ to ‘Great House of the Realm’.

This sounded unbearably dreary to Bertholdt, but he held his tongue.

When Bertholdt turned 21, his parents threw him an apparently lavish party for surprisingly little coin (a family specialty). While he was reaching out to cut the cake, he saw its label – TO BERTHOLDT, FUTURE UNDER-SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR – and decades of repression and self-denial and emotional neglect condensed, and his mind flexed, and the cake turned bright green and exploded. Bertholdt, it turned out, was a Sorcerer. The ‘House of the Dragon’ appellation, it turned out, was rather less symbolic than he had thought. (Later he learned from a rather scandalized archivist about his great-great-great-great-grandfather Lucian, who was bet 100,000 GP that he couldn’t bed a Brass Dragon.)

His family had turned to austerity and dull seclusion to minimize the flareups of pride and emotion that led to Sorcery – deeming it, over the generations, to have become something rather BENEATH a noble house to actually practice magic, rather than to employ servants to perform it for them. Bertholdt’s mother materialized by his elbow, whispering viciously, and he was told in no uncertain terms to immediately seclude himself in the back rooms so that his ‘unfortunate outburst’ could be explained as a practical joke by his soon-to-be-fired valet.

Bertholdt could hold his tongue no more.

No transcript of the ensuing 5-minute Birthday Toast he made to himself survives, but it included a great many exhortations to his family that they perform physically impossible feats of miscegenation, scatology, animal husbandry, self-harm, and violent interior decoration. He marched over to one of the potboys who approximated his size, changed clothes with him in the middle of the Foyer (necessitating the removal of several fainting matrons and a few quite curious young ladies) and walked out the front door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a tiny nest egg of 80 GP.

He walked hither and yon throughout the land, getting an initial handle on his abilities (learning how to wake up in an inn that WASN’T on fire was a major step forwards). He slept outside! He fought in duels against people whose skin WASN’T inhumanly tough (strategy!) and found that the skills which let him conduct discreet business negotiations amidst a whirling soiree were surprisingly applicable to sneaking out of a county lockup. He remained a broadly benevolent person, but his methods became more…fluid than the strictly lawful Bertie of his youth.

One day, Bertholdt saw a sign for the Silanya expedition that rather desperately asked for applicants who COULD kill everything that moved but might, occasionally, try speaking politely to them first and asking if they have anything worth money. Seeing a chance at adventure, and making his contribution to the doubtless morally unimpeachable Colonial Project of Silanya, Bertholdt has signed up to test himself against a big continent full of things that almost certainly won’t try to kill him. And if they do – BOOM, KAPOW, ZAP!

And if that doesn’t work…at least his parents will hear about his decision and absolutely hate it.

UPDATE:
As of Bertie’s 3rd expedition, a rather hasty bargain struck with the Grandmother Dryad has erased almost all of his memories of his past, as well as consuming the rather spiffy set of noble clothing he used to wear when he was…in the…with the people, who all had the limbs, and then they said…

This was likely intended to be a bittersweet price to pay but Bertholdt honestly feels mostly relief that two decades of repressive boredom just vanished like dew. Time will tell if any more serious side-effects result from this self-induced retrograde amnesia.

This boon takes the form of blooming vines rustling and softly shifting in tattooed viridian splendor along Bertie’s right arm. Up close, the mark smells of flowers and green growing things.

UPDATE THE SECOND:
As of Bertie’s 6th expedition, he made the difficult decision to treat with a demon released by Leshanna’s otherwise flawless plan to unlock the Sealed Tower of Toba. In exchange for this Chain Lord’s freedom and a specific named location (about which, to be frank, the party knew almost nothing) he let the party live and gave Bertholdt, Silverleaf Moonshadow and Leshanna the chance to take in Devilish power. All but Leshanna accepted.

Bertholdt has, since that occasion, had some minor Warlock abilities thrown into his arcane mix – most notably a limited capacity to Hex his opponents into stumbling idiocy.

This boon takes the form of rusted chains pulling and sinuously winding in constant motion along Bertie’s left arm. Up close, the mark emits grating shrieks – of metal on metal or of bound victims is unclear.

UPDATE THE THIRD:
The aftermath of Bertholdt’s pact was dire. He made a second pact as part of a foolish, vainglorious attempt to sacrifice himself and slay the Chainlord; Leshanna, instead, paid the price and died a hero, while Bertie was left a ravaged and disgusting hybrid devil creature. Physically unchanged, his insides and his soul have…curdled slightly.

His Draconic heritage was burned away, and Fiendish replacements stamped upon him. It is unclear what long-term effects this may have on himself and his companions. Nevertheless, he has pledged to change his ways and live up to Leshanna’s legacy, which she sacrificed to save his life; he is at an utter loss as to where he might even begin.

He has begun by covering up the marks of his foolhardy pacts on his arms and dressing like a leader among the guild members – which he is by virtue of power, if not by virtue of influence or respect at this point in time – and not revelling, as he once did, in vagabond insouciance.

He seeks to finally conquer his lifelong disinclination to try to be more than he is unless to do so seems amusing. Baby steps perhaps – but not meaningless in context of Bertholdt “Unbearably Feckless” Rohrbach.

A long dark night of the soul awaits our well-meaning, fatally thoughtless hero.

z - Bertholdt Rohrbach (Departed)

Silanya James_Elcombe dwindrim