Sixth Son Conclusions

[Rem-13]

Inspired by Jeffrah and indomitable Gear I set up this thread. If you had a character in the last campaign you can post what happened to him. You can take your dude up to level twenty, have him do anything really you want. Retire rich and famous, or die alone and poor. Whompt's the only true god though. Heres the only official facts,

Alkaios was a powerful titan who was trying to become a god. He was once a cleric of Tyr so in the God's favor that he was granted a spot among them as his aid in the moral realm. Alkaios grew to fond of his power and was expelled. Taking matters in his own hands he began to move towards Godhood. The Dieties themselves disapproved of his quest and constantly drove him away from his goals.

He uses the PCs to gather what he needs instead. Each one was picked for a special reason, the only thing that tied them together; the gods could not interfere in their lives. Why they could not stop each one varied, bets and self imposed rules make lives of the Almighty slightly less boring, and Alkaios exploited them for years using his insight into their politics against them. It culminated when he moved each one into a prison and overthrew the host city. But things did not go as planned form then on. The PCs eventually stopped him, Whompt himself stealing Goddom from beneath the Titan.

The details and what happens then on out is up to you. Knock yourselves out.

[Dr. Cringle]

Oskar left the group after a while, having grown tired of Evi, Whompt, and his brother Thamunal's actions. He'd continue to pursue the task that Alkaois set out for him, but eventually he'd grown weary adventuring by himself. Soon he'd abandon the task all together after one fateful battle that left him with only one arm and eye. This caused Oskar to lose faith in himself, and his abilities as a cleric. If he couldn't help the cause of even one deity, how could he possibly serve as a cleric for Moradin? So he also abandoned his duties as a cleric, and settled into a small village on the outskirts of a mountain.

Having only an axe, and the skin off his back, Oskar became the town's local lumberjack. There was good business in that, and he ended helping the economy of the town greatly by providing jobs for his business. Soon his business was booming, and Oskar grew to be a rich tycoon. The town itself soon grew large enough to be considered a city, and the city itself was quite prosperous. Having grown a lot of influence in the city, Oskar ran for office as the city's mayor. He was given the position, and he retired from the lumber business. He still had majority control over the company once he retired, which gave him a steady income for the rest of his a life.

With his wisdom, the city itself expanded. While he was no longer a cleric, Oskar was still quite faithful to Moradin, and he founded a church of Moradin in his city, which helped with relations to the dwarves native of the mountain. Soon the mountain dwarves began trading with the city, and the city grew in power. Oskar became a famous political figure, and he'd gained the attention of the leader of the province, who offered Oskar the position to be leader of his council. Oskar gratefully accepted, and once his term in office quickly ended, he lived with the leader of the province in his castle.

The once small, nameless village Oskar helped grow into a bustling city, was dubbed Thamunal by Oskar, in memory of his brother, whom he still cared for even after all of his brother’s misdeeds.

The city itself still stands to this day, and statue of Oskar is placed in the middle of it, in gratitude for all the things he'd done for the city.

[Blue]

After proving himself in the combat against the mighty lizardman, Whompt continued to fight his way up the ranks. While his fellow adventurers worked on the details of their plan, their half-orc counterpart was taking care of the problem in the best way he knew how. Through heavy use of violence. Each officer ahead of him fell against the might of Whompt’s axe, each one giving him that much needed step towards his goal. The death of Orin, the grey Dwarf leader.

The fool had gathered among him monstrous races, depending on their strength and savagery to hold the city for him. And hold they did. But races such as these only respected strength. And as Whompt’s axe cleaved through the dwarf’s neck, the balance of power shifted. And just in time too. For at that moment, his companion’s plan came to fruition. A battle ensued, until one voice shouted above the din.

“STOP!!”

And everything stopped. The half-orc moved between the two sides, giving each a baleful stare before continuing. First, he addressed his army.

“No more kill weaker people. No more take over town that no challenge. Find strong fighters and fight them. Become strong or die! That way of life. Good. Evil. No matter! Fight to get strong! Live for fight! No team up, fight alone. Prove own strength to world!”

A short speech, yet it moved the savage beings. Something struck a chord in their minds, perhaps even a bit of Whompt’s soon to come divine spark. They left, ready to spread the word of his doctrine. To only fight those who would present a challenge, and to do so on one’s own merit.

Having set the situation right in this town, the party moved on with their quest. Oskar left, having grown tired of the group’s violent ways, and Whompt held no anger towards him. His credo was not for all. No, only those with the will to improve themselves and the courage to take on ever more dangerous challenges could survive his way of life.

In the end, when all was said and done, the party eventually stood against the one they had been aiding. The wannabe God, Alkaios. The barbarian had never trusted the being, even at the beginning. And so, he led that charge against the mighty titan. The battle raged for hours, the party growing tired and weak as Alkaios seemed to remain as strong as before. Soon, only Whompt stood against his power.

Beaten back, the barbarian seemed about to fall to the titan, but something happened in that moment. His doctrine had spread far and wide, and with a lucky blow to the titan, a bit of the divine spark Alkaios had gained was transferred to his foe. The fight had shifted to trying to overthrow a demented god to the struggled for the right to ascend between two mortals. With renewed strength, Whompt fought back, eventually slaying the titan and gaining the full power of a diety.

After that, the party dispersed, going their separate ways. Whompt and Evi remained together, however, and they roamed the world as they did in the old days. As time passed and Whompt’s influence grew, he tried to help his wizard companion in gaining his own godhood. Only time will tell whether this plan works or fails.

[Sage]

The final battle with Alkaios was a long and bitter one. It was made even more so when, in a most unfortunate coincidence, the elf, Eviryri, was hurled back and away from the enemy just as Whompt landed an unlikely - but decisive - blow.

The pitch of the battle swelled, and it was not he but Whompt who delivered the final, damning strike, ensuring his rise to godhood. Or, more accurately (if one was to ask the elf) stealing the privilege from him!

Still, the event was not without merit. It wasn’t Whompt’s fault, after-all. The party dispersed after the final bout, leaving Evi and Whompt behind as a lone duo, yet again. Only this time, Eviryri’s enforcer was now unstoppable.

They traveled about easily enough - Evi just had to reassure his half-orc companion that they were on an adventure, and every now and then they would raid some camp or mine or anything else, slaughtering whatever monsters they could find. The resulting gold from loot and rewards only helped fuel the elf’s goals, which were fairly far from noble or adventurous.

Eventually, Eviryri felt he was well enough equipped to finally extract his revenge. With the indomitable power of Whompt at his side, the duo ventured into the Underdark, for what would prove to be an ill-fated incursion.

Two days passed and the two were driven out of the Underdark. Well, Evi was driven out of it, Whompt more or less killed his way out. In any case, at the end of the day, nine drow, two duergar, and a bunch of other horrible creatures were dead.

That was nine drow down, and the rest to go.

The elf decided then that the two of them should part ways for the time being, and arranged for Whompt to meet him at a familiar tavern three months from then. The parting was awkward, but it needed to be done. Evi needed to become more powerful, and he was willing to do horrible things to achieve his strength.

Joining up with a notorious warlord, idiotically named ‘Bloodmace’, Evi saw a great deal of combat in campaigns against many people and places, and was free to kill, maim, and torture virtually anyone he pleased. Even Bloodmace’s own men.

In retrospect, some would say that Eviryri had become exactly what he hated. He didn’t look like a drow, but his behavior was just as violent, as wretched, as foul. Perhaps worse.

His twisted lust for power drove him to experimentation, creating all manner of abominations, among them, ‘half-zombies.’ Living, breathing human beings whose flesh rotted away around them, causing agonizing pain before eventually killing them.

So great was his need for revenge that he had his meeting with Whompt postponed for a month, and eventually began experimenting on himself, ultimately becoming a Pale Master. One night in particular, he summoned a brutally powerful skeletal warrior, and secretly unleashed it on five of Bloodmace’s men. Four of them died before the skeleton was finally defeated, but the victory was short-lived, as Eviryri chose that moment to emerge from hiding and kill the final mercenary.

In an act of absolute madness, Eviryri severed his right arm at the shoulder with a powerful spell, and affixed the right arm of the fallen skeleton to the bloody remains of his shoulder. With the aid of his magic, it became animate, and much more dangerous than his own limb.

Finally, Eviryri went on a rampage, summoning a horde of undead and attacking Bloodmace himself. All fell before the elf, only to be reanimated to serve in the expanding ranks of his army.

From there, he set off, meeting up with Whompt. The opening conversation was awkward at best, but despite Whompt’s apparent omnipotence, Evi was still able to easily manipulate him. Once again, they set off for the Underdark, this time accompanied by a legion of undead, and perhaps with Whompt’s living army. Evi wasn’t entirely sure - he wasn’t exactly lucid at the time.

The second venture beneath the surface was much more successful. Three weeks passed before they emerged victorious. A drow city had been razed, a hundred dead. Most of them desecrated and brought to unlife.

Three more raids on the drow were executed in the next while, and somewhere in between, Eviryri established a base of operations in a tower, which had once been part of a massive imperial fort, all of which had been destroyed save for that tower.

From there Eviryri was able to coordinate attacks without his own personal attendance, and eventually was forced to launch attacks on neighboring surface villages - their penalty for interfering in his affairs.

Whompt grew more and more uneasy every day, as his friend went from ‘jerk’ to ‘monster’. Evi took no notice, and arranged for them to raid the Underdark yet again. His goals for genocide were so easy now - with an unfaltering, unquestioning army of undead, and a diety fighting for him, Eviryri began to consider himself something of a god.

Still, when he raided the next village, a particular drow managed to separate himself from his army, and even more surprisingly, she overpowered him, nearly killing him. And then, surprisingly, she showed mercy.

The fighting ceased, while the two elves conversed for hours. Eventually, Eviryri’s soldiers were ordered to returned to the tower, and he, Whompt, and the drow girl, named Jysxena followed, leaving the city to it’s own devices.

Evi continued to converse with the drow over the next several days, and eventually his arrogant nature gave way to a quiet admiration - she was able to match his wit at any turn, and rebuke any argument she disagreed with. She was incredibly powerful with a sword, Finally, Eviryri admitted his wrongdoing and swore to cease his reign of destruction against the drow people.

Thankfully, because of his robes, Evi never revealed his undead limb to Jysxena, and hastily enchanted her so that she would see it as a natural arm, and not the disgusting thing that it was. Apparently even necromancers were occasionally stricken with vanity.

Eventually, Evi and Jysxena grew closer, and in the months to come, she became pregnant. The child was a half moon elf, half drow elf boy. They decided to name him ‘Eviyri’, foregoing the first ‘r’ because Jysxena found it difficult to pronounce.

Eviryri was forced to part ways with Whompt yet again. He was finally at peace, and no longer driven by hate. Forced to explain to the half-orc that his very reason for being alive for those many years was his thirst for revenge, and that all of his questing and adventuring was fueled by raw hatred, the elf knew it would weigh heavily on Whompt. Invited to visit often, the warrior-god left, as he still had adventuring left to do.

Three years later, the two elves were blessed with another child, this one a girl. Naming her after her mother, the retired necromancer was forced to clear another room in the tower for her. It seemed that Eviryri had finally found his home.

The family was anything but normal, however. Evi still studied necromancy at length, and the undead legionnaires frequently patrolled the halls to the extent that his son eventually named his favorite one ‘Sir Dies-a-Lot.’

Whompt grew to be a favorite of the two children, often teaching them a new survival trick on each subsequent visit. Every time he came to the tower, he had some impressive new weapon or armor to show off. He was quite the entertainer with children.

The sight of the dead and dying was nothing out of the ordinary within the tower, and Jysxena saw no reason to rebuke Evi for it. In fact, she practiced with her blade every single day, to keep herself sharp.

Decades passed, and it seemed the Scarcarver family would dwell in peace ‘till the end of their days, but it was not to be. A group of expert drow assassins eventually scaled the walls, breaking into the tower from the top floor so as to avoid the hordes of zombies, skeletons, and whatever else were within the lower floors.

They snuck in at night, but failed to account for Eviryri’s insomnia. He caught them entering his private sanctum and slaughtered the lot of them. In his rage, he declared he would raze Ust Natha in retribution.

Jysxena pleaded with him to reconsider, and something within him snapped. He cared about her more than anything in the world, but at that moment, all he saw was the drow who had tortured him so many years ago. He killed her.

Abandoning his children - who at this point were several decades old - Evi descended into the Underdark yet again, decimating some city whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn. Returning victorious without Whompt’s help, Evi’s ego got the best of him.

He furthered his status as a Pale Master, mummifying a great deal of himself. Though he was still a living thing, he no longer looked it. His power skyrocketed, and in his arrogance, he summoned Whompt to his side, and with him in tow, he challenged the god of magic to a fight to the death.

The fight was brutal. Much to Eviryri’s shock and oversight, Whompt, whom he’d been able to manipulate and virtually control since the day they’d met, refused to help in the battle, insisting that it would be dishonorable.

Instead, Whompt would only step in to fend off any would-be death blows. Not exactly the trump card the elven pale master had planned. Nothing he did could faze the god - magic, conjured spirits, enchanted weapons - everything fell short of success.

In fact, Evi’s opponent proved so powerful, he was able to both swat Whompt away and deal a mortal strike to the usurper, sending him crashing onto his knees. It would be only a matter of time before he succumbed to his wounds and died.

“Pitiful elf,” declared the god. “You, who have twisted yourself into a creature unworthy of existence, have come here to cast me down and to take my place. You have failed, and you would surely die. But I wonder...” a long pause ensued. “As an immortal, I grow weary of all things. Perhaps I could turn you into a diversion. With that said... I will give you a choice. Since your wounds will surely claim your life, I will let you either accept your fate, die, whereupon you will undoubtedly be cast into the Pit, or, I will complete your transformation - I would turn you into a Lich: one of the very creatures you thought beneath you, so that you can roam the earth forever, or until your arrogance sets you against a superior opponent.”

Eviryri had no choice. He loathed both options, but eternal damnation seemed unwelcoming at best. He accepted the god’s terms, and was transformed into a lich, and then he, along with Whompt, was returned to the foot of his tower.

The undead elf then had an epiphany. He was no longer bound by the dimension of time, and his limits no longer applied. While the fact that he was no longer ‘alive’ bothered him, the fact he was stronger than ever before re-ignited his hate-fueled drive.

Blaming Jysxena’s death on the drow who had infiltrated his tower (despite the fact it was he who killed her), Eviryri amassed several of his undead and - yet again - marched into the Underdark. It is said that he has become unstoppable, and has even been named the ‘Doomsday Lich’. He is believed to be marching upon Ust Natha. Whether or not Whompt is with him is unclear: living soldiers do occupy his armies, but no special mention was given to the half-orc.

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It's... not completely accurate, but I condensed and omitted lots of stuff because- well, look at it. It's still a fucking wall of text.