#harborfolk

[jellyghostspace]

Taking a look through my library of unplayed D&D characters and using them for character design practice. Unfortunately, this has only given me more ideas for characters I want to play, and thus the cycle continues. Character bios down down down \/

ULRICH, REND OF THE SKY (High elven soldier, Bladesong Wizard LV4, Fighter LV1) Terribly burnt after being struck by lightning on the battlefield, through sheer willpower he rose and continued to fight, static jolting through his muscles and down his spear. Lurching through the enemy's formation, Ulrich pierced the heart of the enemy captain, burning into his final moments the vision of bulging eyes glaring beyond smoking flesh.

GRAINNE (Drow haunted one, Assassin Rogue 3, Hexblade Warlock 1) Grainne delights in her status as a myth, something to keep children away from the sewer grates and out of dark alleys, but more so in the terror she strikes into local authority. She hates at their excess, poisons her blade with their own money, that it might hurt all the more as she bleeds the pigs that walk the streets - her streets, like cocky birds. She toys with them, she is the thing that the house is meant to protect against in the stillness of night, when anything could be beside your bed and you'd be none the wiser. You may have locks and guards and dogs, but she knows the inner workings of these things. She betrays the trust the home lends, gives reason for paranoia, lets them know she's watching, seething.

MARLOWE GRIS (Reflavored triton sailor, Oath of the Open Sea Paladin 3) A hundred feet under the water, barely lucid enough to grasp the chain of his anchor and pull himself back up, Marlowe's face is lit by a raging fire spreading across the surface above him, silhouetting the St. Augustine and the corpses of its crew as they sink around him. The sea shows him grace this day, as she comes to him in his final moments of consciousness, and fills his lungs with a kiss. She'd been watching him as he crossed her sea, had fallen in love with the way he treated his crew and the seabirds, had to protect him. Twenty years to the day, Marlowe loved the sea more than anything, and it loved him just the same. Harborfolk rumor him married to a sea witch, the way he speaks of her, and how he seems to disappear between the waves after a day's work. Some say he straps an anchor to his back when he leaves town, the last remnant of his St. Augustine and the first memory of his fateful meeting with the powers that be.

[astraves]

Sessions in Ink - Motive

“Why did you start killing?”

Ouvedhe’s question lingered in my mind, for how point-blank and unceremonious it was. Maybe this will surmise our conversation more readily.

It’s odd that he mentioned Ravalta’s demise.

Just like I did to the magister, the old man put his palm to my chest and blew a hole through it with such an alacrity that the meat and blood were still sizzling in a quivering gap from one side of my ribcage through the other.

Sanathas didn’t look down at what I did to him, though. He was well aware.

I, on the other hand, am supposed to stare into my wound and recite my observations of twitching, half-cauterized viscera to the Director here before I slump over onto the deck.

No different than a lover looking to pry into my life and peel back thousands of years worth of layers to know the real me. 

That obfuscation goes for both parties though; after a certain amount of time, the memories become just as inaccessible and dormant in their specificity to my vantage as well.

You only know that something is. You easily forget how it came to be, after a century or more. Likely a defense mechanism of the mind. 

That’s what I try to explain to people with shorter lifespans.

I, and likely several others, remember that it happened, and we remember that it is. Very rarely do we recall how, and why, and what the weather was, and where we were, all except for the most profound events.

You can only imagine how jarring it is when something that reaches “is” status suddenly changes. It’s like a background din swelling to a symphonic focus all over again.

The mind can only handle so much time, and so over the course of so many decades folding into each other, we remember isolated instances. Destinations. The voyage between each moment through those years is... Null and insufficient.

I have so many pinpoints across the nocturnal tapestry of my father’s life in mine, though. A night sky of love and pride, honor. I don’t feel honor, not anymore.

I felt it with him, though. Every day.

Every day.

Salevor Havadiel Astraves-d’Astravar inspired my every waking moment, when I was a boy. 

And, yes, we are cousin-kindred to the harborfolk. My grandfather was insistent on taking our familial branch in a new direction, a momentum my father maintained and politically could only be realized through my siblings and I.

It’s complicated. You’d be bored if I tried to explain. 

Aunt Aurore and young Ailen are doing well enough, though.

But, it was rare to have a time that he wasn’t trying to teach me something; about magic, about artifice - the intricate arcane circuitries both tangible and ephemeral that surrounded us, and about life.

What it is to be a father, to have a family. How to deal with and get along with people. How to bring them together. Because that’s why we were in Suramar, he’d tell me.

We were brought together to defend our home and keep our people.

And that was never lost on me, no matter how hard I’ve tried to distance myself from Suramar and the elves living in it, as odd as that sounds now.

And this isn’t to say I didn’t love my mother, or value her, or learn from her. No, her presence was, and is, just as vital.

She did, after all, teach me how to navigate women, money, weapons...

My God, she could kill a hundred sentinels in full-kit, in her prime. I saw her fight five at once, one night, just sparring. Testing the veterans...

I bet she could still cut someone to ribbons today, feeble as she seems.

               Our Holy Mother of the Mourning Razor

My father though, was the mind and will. The heart of our family, and she was his. I learned love from the way he spoke to my mother, the way he treated her and how they worked so perfectly together.

That’s a cruel standard to hold myself to, but I can’t avoid it.

I decide that I’m not good enough to hold myself to that and leave. Fucking up and failing dismally. And I don’t expect the other to understand.

I just expect her to be better off in my absence...

                                                   Focus, please.

Yes... He was everything to me, all that I wanted to be, even if I was a horrible student at times, and more prone to take in the world around us than to recuse myself of it in towers.

The irony of which, is, absolutely delicious, but go on.

When Suramar took to its isolation, demonfire raged in the streets from the war. The world shook as the Sundering swallowed everything around us in this... Wall of crashing blue. In the moment, you could gaze skyward and see the flight of demons.

Then the silhouettes of whales and whorls of kelp and strange beasts thrown shocked and oblivious with the force, in the water.

We were all in the streets fighting when the tide came.

                  THE Tide.

             The mother of all ocean views.

After that, we were lost to the years. Then the decades, and centuries. Millennia followed, and in all of it was this urgency my father had to keep people sane and level. To maintain a peace.

In doing that, our family and the ones closest to us were able to uphold their order and hand in the overall social contract. Supplies ran out, though.

Food, most prominently. As any good host, though, wine was shared.

It wasn't until the century or so before his death that I truly saw the burden that Suramar's circumstances took on him. The erosion.

Fear, growing panic. In-fighting and backstabbing. Politics, power plays and all of it... There was no world at large to blunt our culture against itself.

No overarching threat or hope of growth for him to stand against or overcome.

There was wine, and statutory exploitation. Death and isolation. And so much...

Fear. 

So much blood, hiding beneath the masks and colors.

He lost his hope, over the thousands of years that followed that day.

We lost our light with it.

I continued to study under his wing, knowing full well he was grooming me to take his place eventually. It was a matter of course - father to son, master to apprentice. What I know now, I gleaned as his understudy, and once it was seen fit for me to continue on, I made my tours of Suramar’s remaining academies before returning to his side. It would’ve taken longer, perhaps, but most had been subsumed beneath the waves and destroyed.

In my time away, he tried to bring himself around. Asurei’s writing amused him, and he encouraged the historical aspects of it. Deronthel was every bit our mother’s son. I had gone off to learn, he had gone to the Sanctum of Order, to find rank among the First Blade’s armed forces.

Largely, however, my father focused on his days with my mother. Without me there, and with my siblings disinterested, he began to share his work with her in earnest, and before long she was working beside him. I’d come home to see the two fabricating the networks of arcane channels within sentinel golems. Resolving the layouts and connections of roads and street lights, signage and all else.

So much that I’d gotten used to it. The comfort of them, as if they’d retired from the world. My father had become prone to brooding, though, more and more. His moods were stormy.

Abject rancor would be unleashed in his study. His attempts at connection were backfiring. People were becoming more insular, more... combative and controlling. 

More ready to make lines between the haves and the have-nots, nobility and those in the city that labored beneath them, and the stratifications of orders.

We all knew it was consuming him. Stifling his work, increasingly, and not simply in a matter of days, but... Again. Decades. Centuries, all compounding on one another.

There was no crescendo or final moment. What had become worse had become standard. On a chance dusk, as any other, I had returned to the estate to check in on our parents.

My mother sent me for him. She, herself, had become mournful in his wake.

He never raised a hand to her, or directed his rages at us. It was him and his study, dragging and heaving the Beast that Suramar had become in his endless struggle to subdue it, reckon or reason with it. Anything.

I opened the door and found him, that day. Six hundred and seven years ago.

He sat in his chair, at his desk. There were letters on it, never folded or sealed.

My father had taken a letter opener to his own throat, across the collarbone to stifle his own voice. Intent to suffer in silence, I approached and found the light snuffed from his eyes. Faded and glossed, his blood cold and clotted across the woodwork and his own hands.

And yet he sat, palms on the armrests, head hanging as though he’d fallen asleep.

Don’t tell them how you screamed.

But his eyes knew. They stared out at the letters.

Don’t tell them how you ran to his side and wept. Sobbed. Wracking, snot running, praying to an uncaring god and begging that he didn’t do this.

Rejections. Warnings. Threats. Dismissals of good intentions, political back-biting and underhanded deals.

Don’t tell them how you wailed and made his rage your own. 

How the only satisfaction you could find was grinding your knuckles to bloody pulp, blow after blow. How you broke shelves and glass and all else with your own fists.

Among them, he left letters for all four of us, each stained in the color of his wound. He didn’t mean it.

This wasn’t him, and this wasn’t for us.

Don’t tell them how you cradled your father’s corpse against your chest.

How they had to pry you away.

How you were covered in his cold blood, and how the scent still lingers in your lungs.

That was my breaking point. The city killed my father, poisoning him over the centuries, a slow and steady rot that anchored into his soul and began to eat him. 

As they took his body from us, my logic, the... motive, you’re looking for in all of this was simple enough at the time.

I would find a way to kill the city back.

[homebrewsno1asked4]

Proficiency: Naval Combat

As opposed to Navel Combat, or the art of fighting with your belly button.

~

Why am I making a new proficiency instead of something more crunchy and design-intensive, like a new monster/item/spell/subclass/anything else?

Because I want to!

Sorry, that’s the lame bratty answer.

Compared to previous editions, the 5e skill list feels kinda milquetoast and oversimplified. And I’m saying this as a player/DM who loves - and started with - D&D 5e. What do I mean? Every possible physical thing is lumped under Athletics. Or every piece of magical knowledge is lumped under Arcana. Or all art forms fall under Performance. I feel like it’s way too easy to be super good at all the skills you’ll actually use in a campaign. From what I’ve gathered - from real, online, and imaginary people - I’m not alone here. The most stalwart fighter should have that one task that’s a bit of an Achilles heel. Maybe a literal Achilles heel! Your 20 INT Wizard might know everything about the Lower Planes, but their artifact lore ain’t shit compared to the 20 INT Artificer - and vice versa. And I know it’s kind of the bard’s thing to be good at everything, but they shouldn’t be good at LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

I think with the current generalized skill list, there’s something of a dissonance between the way characters are built and the ways we want to play them. We want our characters to have hobbies, weird quirks. I think these options should be supported through mechanics, not just Fun Little Things you do for table banter while the DM’s reviewing their notes for the next scene. As the skill list works now, you can’t have that Barbarian that enjoys Bob Ross-style painting. Or the Sorcerer who’s weirdly good at arm-wrestling. Or a Fighter whose gardening could help procure magic herbs and veggies for potions or whatever. Or maybe you don’t want those things, or you think they aren’t necessary! That’s fine! You’re allowed to have that problem opinion. Point is, we can’t have those types of characters without wasting a skill slot or ASI. If you want to make any of those characters in the current Skills framework, you need to sacrifice something from The Optimal Build, or else your character will suck at the thing that makes them unique and that’s just sad.

TL;DR: I think more skill options - even just using the current skills as categories, and branching those out - would help bridge the gap between aesthetics and mechanics. More skill options + more proficiency slots. Please.

/endrant, here’s the actual thing.

(If you read all this, thank you for indulging my rantings and ravings. I hope I made at least a little sense.)

~

Naval Combat

INT/WIS, depending on background; DM’s discretion

(This is just based on my personal definitions of each Ability. To me, Intelligence skills come from book-learnin’ - while many Wisdom skills CAN be learned in an academic setting, they can really only be honed through practice and life experience.)

Knowledge of the tactics and rules of engagement of naval warfare.

Possible Uses:

Guessing the pirates’ next move

Analyzing the best way to take down a sea monster

Knowing the proper definition and pronunciation of “parlay”

Recommended Races/Classes/Backgrounds

Whether you want to swap these out for other proficiencies, or tack this on as an extra ribbon proficiency – that’s up to you! I don’t know, I’m not your dad!

Races

Sea Elf

Water Genasi

Merfolk

Minotaur

Siren

Tortle

Triton

Warforged (might seem like a weird choice, but warforged are canonically built for just about any function)

Classes

Battle Smith Artificer

Storm Herald Barbarian

Swords Bard

Valor Bard

Tempest Cleric

War Cleric

Battle Master Fighter

Samurai Fighter

Conquest Paladin

Swashbuckler Rogue

Sea Sorcerer

Storm Sorcerer

Fathomless Warlock

War Wizard

Backgrounds

Marine

Mercenary Veteran

Noble

Sailor/Pirate

Shipwright

Smuggler

Soldier

I know there are a bunch of maritime-focused Backgrounds I didn’t include in this list, but I don’t feel like some of them would have been exposed to enough naval combat to know all the ins and outs. Mostly talking about fishers, harborfolk, merchants, etc.

That being said, maybe you see a couple of my other choices as a stretch.

.

.

.

.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[believerindaydreams]

highlights of the survival horror everything is 50 degrees below zero run to Far Harbor

- if I wasn't bringing Haylen I would have not spent an hour in a badly underlevelled fight with a mirelurk. Nick glitched out after a while and was helpless. Wasn't pretty.

-amazing Follower Tweaks has a few good features, such as making Nick and Danse not talk over each other, and a cookstove on demand but only outside. Which is not that useful since my character gets pneumonia in interior cells also. The rules for what fires will burn and which won't are exasperating, and the much loved Camping mod did not work at all.

Also for the love of unholy fuck, where in rocky Mass did the AFT crew expect you to put their portable base. Costs a fortune. It's the size of a prewar house. It's horribly disproportionate for whatever problem it was meant to solve.

Oh, but the bit I wanted was to make the Far Harbor harborfolk settlers. If I ever touch this file again it'll be to build them a great settlement.

- dear Boone: as a happy VATS player I did not realize how much I would miss that high perception until I had Ellie "perception 4" Perkins.

- I did not realise Sheffield will become a settler for one Nuka Cola. I ended up building him a whole settlement in Cambridge Police station and gave him Haylen's old scribe armor (she kept the hat.) . Fun fact: you can place a water pump in a garden plot cos it's dirt.

- something has broken salvage beacons. That was when I decided this save needed to be mercifully put down. That I'm at the point where you grab DiMA's memories doesn't help.

- however. However. By jove I wanted the image of Nick Valentine trailing through the wilds of Far Harbor with frost on his coat, and my six winter mods sure did deliver.

[salt-in-the-sea]

@nightwontlast​ set sail with Longfellow!

“Now look here- while I appreciate the fog condensers, I don’t see what they have to do with you, or why you’re out here tellin’ me how to bait my own hooks.”

He set the harpoon gun and cleaning towel down heavily on the workbench. Seemed about every other day there was a Mainlander or one of the particularly uptight Harborfolk come out here to tell him how things out to be done. This synth- Valerie, or something- he’d seen before, somewhere. Maybe over a drink. But the folks up in Acadia didn’t much come by to give him the third degree. Why it was different with this fellas was beyond him.

“So if your boots aren’t stuck in the mud there, I’m going to ask you kindly to get.”

[dungeons-and-divination]

Swashbuckler ROGUE - (PHB) HALF-ELF - Harborfolk

I’m sure you all were wondering when I would finally post a Rogue on this blog after suggesting multiple times a Rogue multiclass. My random generator left this class in particular for the second half of this first round of characters, so it took a while to get to my fave (I’m not gonna deny that I would pick to play Rogue any day of the week). But here she finally is in all her glory. I hope you enjoy her!

Name: Ainsley Daele (55yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Five of wands (upright) Such an energetic card for mind, very refreshing! Gives Ainsley’s “mind” this very chaotic feel, almost like she would be the kind of person that would flourish when in the middle of conflicts. Makes sense for someone so passionate and unruly to have a bit of a love for some quick witted bickering. I can picture her thinking of a good insult as foreplay with that attitude actually. That insult has to be toward her, though. Cause if you insult the people she loves, well… That’s just gonna trigger her territorial nature.

Body: Queen of wands (upright) This just confirms my first impressions of her having a lot of sexappeal with her very energetic and outgoing personality. Ainsley has a very optimistic approach to things, with a side of a little bit of a hot temper sometimes, sure. But with such a good sense of humor, people just forget about her meaner side usually. Despite it all, I feel like she’s more of a “do” person, a multitasker, than a “think” kind of gal… I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a little bit forgetful too occasionally.

Spirit: Six of wands (reversed) That’s quite interesting. I wasn’t expecting something that talks about being hunted by broken promises and disappointment. I guess it talks about her strength too, though. Ainsley is a person that despite having been broken by something in the past, puts up with every challenge and comes out of it with a smile on her face and a positive attitude. She might be perceived as arrogant or a diva from others because of it, but she’s just the product of battles she lost in the past, of people not supporting her… Her “past” card will clear this.

Past: the World (reversed) It’s so nice when your deck keeps proving your gut feelings right. Another card about disappointment, which, like I said, explains better her spirit. In the past Ainsley failed in doing something and for some time she felt stuck into the status quo. She also couldn’t accept the disappointment of said failure, and to realize that her mistakes were not a matter of other people failing her, but her failing herself somehow. It might be the reason why her spirit is still broken down over it. It took her so long to realize that she was the one that could always change it all and she’s bothered by that knowledge. Yet, her overall attitude changed, because at the end of the day she did get out of that situation, at least with her mind and body. At the end of the day, I suppose this means she’s not depressed over the situation at the moment, but her spirit is still not completely over the situation… Might be a sign that she’s still in denial about something and just a little mistake might have her crumble.

Present: Seven of wands (upright) Once again, back to her newly found territorial and assertive nature that pushes her to stand up for her beliefs. It’s a way for Ainsley to keep control of her life, to finally stop blaming others for things that happened (or didn’t happen) in her life. It’s also a new release for the pent up energy she feels like had gone to waste in the past with the way she’d been stuck. Yet again, Ainsley isn’t gonna do it in the smartest way, all impulsive chaos, but at least she’ll have a big grin on her face while doing whatever she put her mind into accomplishing!

Future: Knight of wands (upright) Quite fitting, a card about a bright future ahead, of her energy and enthusiasm being the reasons why she actually achieves her goals (she even should have better results than she expected). It'll give her a big boost of confidence, obviously, which will make her feel fearless for a bit. But there’s a warning that goes side by side with that positive twist. This tarot tells Ainsley that she shouldn’t become hasty because of that new founded courage. The undertone of adventure and travel of this card, actually talks to me more about romance when it’s related to Ainsley (again, just a gut feeling); maybe it’s because I see Ainsley as this cheeky person that thrives in challenging times. My suggestion is this then: have her be at her best when things are at the worst for the party. When there are times of peace and calm she would probably be frustrated that there’s nothing to do. Not necessarily in a mean way, more with an “I feel like we’re not helping people in need” kind of attitude. 

FULL BACKSTORY

Ainsley doesn’t really have a clue of who her true parents are. She knows just that her adoptive family found her in a forest and that she looked just a couple of days old when they picked her up and saved her from certain death. Since then, they have become the only family that really matters. Her father Tiocha, her mother Predys, and their, at the time seven years old, son Nereius, were in the middle of a move in a new town; it was something they did often because of the couple’s jobs as merchants. Tiocha and Predys actually didn’t really mind living so much on the move, and they had a good lifestyle, even if it was difficult for both Nereius and Ainsley in their childhood to maintain long lasting friendships. It was probably the reason why they became almost codependent on each other, to the point that the dream of one grew to be also the one of the other. When Nereius became a soldier and started his military career in his very early teens, Ainsley dreamed of quickly following him, despite her age being something that stopped her from doing so. By the time Ainsley was old enough to finally try and follow in her brother's footsteps, a war had begun. She tried to enlist, but despite the need for people on the battleground, she got rejected multiple times, too young, untrained and rush to go into the fray instead of obeying orders. It wasn’t long after that, when news of Nereius' unfortunate demise came to both her and her parents, which at that point forbid her to try once again to become a soldier. Dejected, Ainsley gave up momentarily her dream and decided to find an honest well paying job. Somehow she ended up working at the harbors, where she found that sense of belonging to a group of people, like she’d felt once upon a time, when travelling on a ship with her family, while still staying long enough in one place to actually get to know the people around her. Even better, the people that traveled around and came back to the docks, remembered her, and they always found her to recount their adventures around the world if she just paid their drinks! Listening to their stories was a chance for her to dream once again of a life filled with excitement, companionship and a higher purpose. And with time those stories built up her desire to go to the adventure on her own. Ainsley was confident that the numerous scuffles she got into with the random unruly ruffians at the docks taught her enough to manage to protect herself! And her parents didn’t have to know about her leaving anyway… And it’s not like she’s barely 20 anymore, right?! She can manage! She can finally make the world better like she dreamed of doing with her brother!

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Charisma and Dexterity, Low Intelligence Skill proficiencies: Perception, Animal Handling (from Half-elf skill versatility), Deception, Investigation, Insight, Persuasion, with expertise in Persuasion and Perception Gaming set proficiencies: either playing cards or dice Others: Like I said in the intro to this post, I admit that I have a huge soft spot for rogues. But I mostly like to multiclass them or have other classes multiclass rogue. So, I HAD to suggest a multiclass. Despite picking Charisma as one of her best scores, I feel like she would fit as a multiclass Fighter or Barbarian better (I know you all were thinking Bard or Paladin). Fighter is a way easier option. Barbarian requires a bit of rethinking and planning ahead of time for later on (or a lot of luck with those ability scores rolls). I GUESS, Paladin could be an okay option because of her military obsession, but I can’t necessarily picture her being very religious. Either way, this is just my usual suggestion corner (longer than usual, sorry for that), so you can just ignore this rambling mess and go with plain rogue.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: My friends are my crew; we sink or float together.  Ideal: We all do the work, so we all share in the rewards. Bond: My brother was a soldier, but he was killed. I really look up to the men and women who serve. Flaw: Once someone questions my courage, I never back down no matter how dangerous the situation.

[probablybisexualrpgideas]

Bidea #190

Make a bisexual harborfolk wizard feral winged tiefling who chooses school of transmutation.

[sirblackaxe]

I just spent a while reading through all the different personality traits, ideals, bonds, and flaws for Beatrice. But how are you supposed to pick just one??

piles of things I feel fit below the cut

Personality Traits

Acolyte: Nothing can shake my optimistic attitude.

Anthropologist: I prefer the company of those who aren't like me, including people of other races.

Anthropologist: When I arrive at a new settlement for the first time, I must learn all of its customs.

Cormanthor Refugee: I appreciate beauty in all of its forms.

Earthspur Miner: Nothing bothers me for long.

Entertainer: Whenever I come to a new place, I collect local rumors and spread gossip.

Entertainer: I love a good insult, even one directed at me.

Folk Hero: If someone is in trouble, I'm always ready to lend help.

Harborfolk: I am curious. I want to know why things are the way they are and why people do the things that they do.

Iron Route Bandit: I feel more comfortable sleeping under the open sky.

Outlander: I'm driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.

Sailor: I enjoy sailing into new ports and making new friends over a flagon of ale.

Ticklebelly Nomad: I eagerly inject myself into the unknown.

Ticklebelly Nomad: It’s difficult for me to remain in one place for long.

Urchin: I bluntly say what other people are hinting at or hiding.

Ideals

Black Fist Double Agent: Hedonist: Life is short. I live my life to the fullest, as I know any day could be my last. (Chaotic)

Charlatan: Friendship: Material goods come and go. Bonds of friendship last forever. (Good)

Cormanthor Refugee: Wanderlust: I want to see as much of the world beyond the camps as I can. (Any)

Entertainer: Beauty: When I perform, I make the world better than it was. (Good)

Far Traveler: Open: I have much to learn from the kindly folk I meet along my way. (Good)

Far Traveler: Adventure: I'm far from home, and everything is strange and wonderful! (Chaotic)

Far Traveler: Inquisitive: Everything is new, but I have a thirst to learn. (Neutral)

Harborfolk: Selfless: We are all children of the sea. I help everyone in peril afloat and ashore. (Good)

Hillsfar Smuggler: Curious: I want to learn as much as I can about the people and places I encounter. (Any)

House Agent: Discovery: I want to learn all I can, both for my house and for my own curiosity. (Any)

Initiate: Zeal: Anything worth doing is worth throwing my whole self into. (Any)

Iron Route Bandit: Freedom: I bow to no one I don't respect. (Chaotic)

Phlan Insurgent: Freedom: Those who are enslaved and unjustly imprisoned deserve my aid. (Good)

Phlan Refugee: Openness: I am always willing to share my life story with anyone who will listen. (Any)

Ticklebelly Nomad: Wanderlust: One must expand their horizons by seeing the world and exploring. (Chaos)

Ticklebelly Nomad: Belonging: All creatures have a place in the world, so I strive to help others find theirs. (Good)

She seems pretty firmly Chaotic Good, huh?

Bonds

Caravan Specialist: There's always a road I haven't traveled before. I'm always looking for new places to explore.

Caravan Specialist: Wealth and power mean little without the freedom to go where and when you want.

Far Traveler: I'm fascinated by the beauty and wonder of this new land.

Haunted One: I keep my thoughts and discoveries in a journal. My journal is my legacy.

Also it doesn’t really match any of the listed bonds, but she’s super interested in the dragon ancestor she gets her dragon blood from and she’d love to learn more about them or meet them if possible.

Flaws

Caravan Specialist: I like to explore, and my curiosity will sometimes get me into trouble.

Outlander: There's no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest.

Sage: I am easily distracted by the promise of information.

Sage: Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.

Ticklebelly Nomad: I throw myself and my friends into situations rarely ever thinking about consequences.

Ticklebelly Nomad: My desire to experience new things causes me to make unsafe choices.

To be fair I think all these flaws are variations on the same basic idea.

[mrninjapineapple]

Fallout 4 Word Prompts - Toddy Leviathan Saloon Juniper

Here’s another 4 word prompt I did a while back. It’s a bit longer than the last one but I hope you all enjoy! :)

The Last Plank was full to bursting, every chair and table packed with people, all craning their necks to get a good look at Marcus and the Mariner. They were sat at the bar, blankets around both of their shoulders as their teeth chattered noisily in the silence.

Mitch placed two glasses of brown liquid on the counter before them, a thick layer of purple skim floating atop both.

Despite his obvious need for warmth, caution tempered Marcus’ reply as he picked up the strange brew and gave a cursory sniff.

‘What’s in this?’ he asked.

‘That’s an old family recipe,’ said Mitch proudly, nodding at the viscous liquid. ‘Whiskey, hot water, and tarberry syrup, all garnished with a couple mutfruit slices.’

The noxious potion bubbled in response.

‘Well,’ Marcus thought to himself as he eyed the glass. ‘It sounds almost like a hot toddy. Just with dirty water, weird irradiated fruit, and no honey…’

He mentally prayed to every God he knew – even mentioning Atom for good measure – before downing the entire concoction in one big gulp. His eyes began streaming as he felt the fire make its way down, his throat feeling as if he had swallowed hot shards of glass.

‘Smooth’ he managed, whispering hoarsely through gritted teeth.

As the feeling subsided, he became aware of the eyes upon him and turned to the Mariner.

‘I suppose you all want to know how it happened, then?’ he asked the room, sending a murmur through the gathered crowd. ‘How we killed the Red Death…’

Looking deep into his glass, he heard the chattering from the Harborfolk around him.

‘What happened?’

‘What was it?’

‘How big was it?’

As he sighed, about to begin his tale, the Mariner put her hand on his. She imperceptibly shook her head; a slight motion which only he saw.

‘I’ll tell you all what happened,’ she said, her expression grim. ‘What really happened…’

All eyes turned to her as the voices grew silent, the creaking wood and sloshing waves loud against the quiet.

‘We took the boat out slowly,’ she began, her tone as morose as her expression. ‘Avoiding the rocks and sunken ships, we came upon the island and saw the red light. When we finally moored the ship and got onto the island though-‘

‘We had no idea what we would actually be facing!’ Marcus interrupted, rising from his seat, all eyes shifting to him. ‘It crawled out of its cave with a great howl of rage, shaking the whole island! We saw its legs first, then its body, and finally the giant head of the great leviathan wormed its way from its burrow and we realised we were staring up at… the Red Death!’

The Mariner rolled her eyes at the melodramatic performance, but Marcus had the crowd enthralled with his story.

Continuing, he told them how the stalwart pair fended off the beast, at one point the Mariner holding it off with nothing but a broken oar whilst he danced and waved to get the creatures attention. His tale grew wilder as he went on, from utilising junk as weapons to a horde of super mutant pirates entering the fray, much to the crowd’s constant amusement.

They also played their part to perfection, their gasps and yelps punctuating the fantastic tale at just the right moments.

Marcus finished with the final breath of life of the Red Death, as it flailed wildly, broken oar handles piercing its hide and riddled with enough bullet holes to make a super mutant look away in disgust. His audience jumped to their feet, cheering triumphantly as they knocked their glasses together, laughing at their vicarious victory.

The Mariner turned to him as the crowd shouted and applauded, her narrow eyes contradicting her small grin.

‘What can I say?’ Marcus shrugged. ‘The people wanted a real story.’

‘Real?’ the Mariner laughed. ‘Like how I “fought valiantly against the foul creature, using only my wits and a rubber duck taped to the end of an oar to stay alive”?’

They both shared a real drink, laughing together as the crowd died down and dispersed.

After a few moments, they noticed that someone was behind them and turned to see that Small Bertha had joined them, hands on her hips as she gave Marcus an incredulous look.

‘Did any of that story actually happen?’ she asked, a little too loud for Marcus’ liking as a few other patrons glanced over to listen in.

He drew in close.

‘Look, Bertha, I’m going to level with you,’ he said quietly, the general bar chatter ensuring his privacy regardless. ‘We told everyone what they wanted to hear… what they needed to hear. You understand that, right?’

She eyed him for a moment before replying.

‘Of course I understand,’ she answered, nodding slowly as if realising a great truth. ‘Got any more stories?’

‘More stories?’ he said, sitting back on his stool. ‘Everything has a story to it, you just have to ask the right questions. What do you want to know?’

Her eyes went straight to the western revolver on his hip and he knew that she had approached only to learn more about it.

‘This?’ he asked, unholstering the weapon and twirling it around his finger expertly, revelling in Bertha’s awed expression.

‘Oh brother…’

The Mariner seemed less impressed.

Marcus asked the girl if she wanted to hear about how he got the revolver and chuckled at her energetic nodding as she took a stool beside him.

‘Well, it all started in Dry Rock Gulch, far away from here, in a place called Nuka-World…’

Marcus sipped the ice-cold bottle of refreshing Nuka Cola Wild as he sat in Doc Phospate’s Saloon. He raised an eyebrow at the familiar taste of the brew as it reminded him of Sunset Sarsaparilla, a popular beverage from his pre-war days, nodding in appreciation of the spicy aftertaste.

As he enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Mackenzie Bridgeman, the saloon doors swung open, the wooden clattering alerting the patrons as they all turned to face the newcomer.

Deputy Codsworth hovered in, a gun-belt tied clumsily above his thruster and a cowboy hat atop his head. A small star-shaped badge had been welded onto his front and he seemed to hold himself with more pride than usual.

‘Good aftern- I mean, howdy, sir!’ he said, his western accent quickly becoming one of the few wonders of the post-war world. ‘I’ve been runnin’ for a mighty long time to find you. Word is, there’s a no-good, yella belly just waiting to test your skill out by the ol’ livery.’

‘Buddy… I think you’ve short-circuited’ said Marcus blankly, prompting a laugh from Mackenzie.

The Mr Handy unit hovered closer and lowered himself until his eyestalk was at the same level as Marcus’ face.

‘Sir,’ he whispered. ‘That’s just my Southern accent. It’s really me… Codsworth! Sorry for the deception but I believe I’m rather taken with this whole dramatic persuasion. It’s really rather fun!’

Marcus sighed.

‘I know tha-’ he began, before pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘What did you want to tell me?’

‘Well,’ Codsworth replied, tipping his hat and speaking at a normal volume once again. ‘Some outlaw callin’ himself One-Eyed Ike has challenged you to a duel… sir.’

‘My my, Overboss,’ chimed Mackenzie from the stool beside him. ‘Looks like its pistols at dawn.’

Marcus sighed again.

‘Fine, let’s get this over with…’

They left the saloon, two on foot, one hovering in mid-air, and headed down the dusty road. As they reached the middle, a protectron slowly began to saunter out of a large wooden building to meet them.

‘There he is,’ said Codsworth, his Southern drawl still going strong. ‘Ol’ One-Eyed Ike himself! No good, yella belly varmint!’

The protectron walked into the middle of the street as they stopped, eyeing him with suspicion.

‘Howdy partner… took your time… heh heh heh,’ droned One-Eyed Ike, his mechanical voice grating. ‘You ready to… test your shootin’ skills?’

‘Sure, but can we hurry this along, I really-‘

Codsworth turned to Marcus.

‘Sir, you must indulge in the drama. I fear One-Eyed Ike will never become a deputy again at this rate,’ he said, his eyestalk zooming in on Marcus’ confused expression. ‘Allow me to explain. Sheriff Hawk felt that Dry Rock Gulch could use some drama to drum up business again, and had a cracking idea. He conferred Ike’s deputy status to me and made him an outlaw, only offering him his former position if he is able to defeat a genuine gunslinger in a duel.’

‘…And he chose me?’ Marcus said, sighing for the third and, he hoped, final time that day. He cleared his throat and remembered the time he had pretended to be the Silver Shroud, fighting crime across the Commonwealth with his sidekick, the intrepid reporter from the Great Green Jewel.

She always hated being called a sidekick.

He felt a pang of worry as he thought of her venturing around with Nick and Curie, chasing another story, but he cleared his mind and focused on the ridiculous task at hand.

‘One-Eyed Ike, I presume? They call me Mar- I mean… Butch… Butch Cassidy, and this here’s the Sundance Kid,’ he said, pointing his thumb at Codsworth. ‘Heard you been lookin’ for me?’

‘I see that iron on your hip… Butch… We draw on three… May the better man win.’

‘Oh… I intend to.’

Mackenzie and Codsworth moved to the side of the street as bystanders followed suit, everyone peering from windows and doorways, eagerly anticipating the action.

‘Knock ‘em dead, Butch’ shouted Codsworth before slipping back into the shadows beside Mackenzie.

The street grew silent.

The wind whistled through the dusty street, sending a tumbleweed rolling towards the saloon. From his position at the side of the road, Codsworth began playing a sampling of music from the Dry Rock Gulch archives, which Marcus recognised from pre-war radio spaghetti westerns.

The music continued as the pair eyed each other, Marcus’ steely gaze meeting the focused camera lens of One-Eyed Ike. As the song began to swell, Marcus unbuckled the holster to his 10mm pistol and time seemed to slow.

He watched as One-Eyed Ike drew his own revolver, as he raised his own weapon. He had the pistol aimed at Ike’s chest… but the handle slipped slightly from his grip.

As he fumbled with his pistol, he heard a shot and felt the blank round strike his shoulder.

‘Looks like I won… partner… Too bad… Now, I gotta go see the Sheriff… See you around… Butch.’

With that, One-Eyed Ike trundled away and the bystanders began to return to their normal activity. Codsworth and Mackenzie sidled up to Marcus.

‘Bad luck Butch, we’ll get that varmint some other time’ said Codsworth, before hovering close. ‘Sir, don’t forget… It’s only me, Codsworth. I’m not really the Sundance Kid.’

Mackenzie chuckled and Marcus holstered his pistol, the trio retreating into the saloon. As they entered, Deacon approached, holding out a bottle to Marcus.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘I saw what you did for Ike out there. I’ve seen you take out everything from radroaches to behemoths and you’ve never messed up a shot.’

Marcus took the bottle with a shrug, feigning ignorance. In reality, he was thankful that nobody realised that his pistol had jammed. He made a mental note to repair the battered weapon as soon as he was able.

‘Fine,’ Deacon continued, grinning. ‘But you should know by now, nobody can’t get anything past me.’

‘Really?’ asked Mackenzie, a smile growing on her face. ‘Not even me?’

Deacon’s cheeks grew hot, a crimson stain spreading across.

‘Well… obviously I… y’know…’

As Deacon floundered, Marcus examined the cold bottle of glowing, deep purple liquid. It had no markings or label but had a strangely familiar aroma as he drew it up to his nose to smell.

‘What is this?’ he asked, interrupting the awkward exchange between the couple.

‘Oh, right,’ said Deacon, thankful for the intervention. ‘That is a genuine bottle of Nuka-Gin. Only one of its kind. Apparently, Bradberton was some kind of genius with these things. Made a ton of products that never made it to the shelves.’

‘Hey Butch, I think that-’ Codsworth faltered at a stern look from Marcus. ‘Sorry, sir. It’s becoming something of a habit. I shall purge my addiction chip later. What I was trying to tell you was that Miss Sierra would want to have a look at that, I’d wager.’

Marcus eyed the Nuka-Gin, remembering the last time he had tasted genuine gin. It was back in his army days, just before his retirement. He could still remember the distinctive taste of juniper berries melded with the myriad spices added during distillation.

‘I’m sure she won’t mind if I just took a sip’ he said with a small smile.

He put the bottle to his lips, savouring the feeling of the cool liquid as it ran down his throat.

He instantly regretted his decision.

The acrid tang of burnt metal assailed his nostrils as the noxious concoction burned his tongue. He spat the drink onto the floor and stayed there, doubled over with his hands on his knees, until the retching had subsided.

‘So… you liked it?’ quipped Deacon as Marcus regained his composure. ‘Look, at least we know why Bradberton kept it off the shelves now. Silver linings.’

Marcus gave Deacon a cold stare.

‘That. Tasted. Like. Sh-’

Gunfire from outside the saloon interrupted him.

Moving to the window, he could see a group of raiders at the far end of the street, firing wildly into the air as they approached.

‘Stay here’ he said as he walked out, leaving his companions behind.

The street once again empty of bystanders, he found himself facing a small group of raiders. There were six in total, all of them in matching cowboy outfits save one, who wore a darker set, bulky with extra armour beneath.

‘You the one who cleared those lily-livered pinheads outta Nuka World, boy?’ asked the lead raider.

Marcus merely nodded, acutely aware that the group’s attention was focused solely on him.

‘Then you’s the one who’s been sayin’ Dry Rock Gulch is yours,’ continued the raider. ‘See, this here gulch is mine. Name’s Mad Mulligan, and you in my house, boy. So, I think s’only fair that you… compensate me before you leave.’

His eyes flicked to the exposed stock of Reason, still strapped to Marcus’ back. He drew the revolver from his hip and gestured to the rifle.

‘That’s a mighty fine weapon you got there. Now, I’m a reasonable man… so how’s about you throw it over to me or I take it from your cold, dead hands?’

Marcus unstrapped Reason, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. He noted the positions of the raiders, what weapons they had, any cover they could utilise, and any exits they could run to, all in a fraction of a second.

‘This old thing?’ he asked, holding up Reason. ‘No, I have an offer for you… Mad Mulligan. I like the look of that revolver of yours. How about you give it to me and you can leave… just walk away with your pals there? Or… I can take it from you?’

Mad Mulligan and his crew began to laugh, confident in their numbers.

‘You must be one duck short of a shooting range, boy! I’m gonna enjoy taking that gun!’

Marcus smiled as he flicked the safety off his rifle.

‘I’d like to see you try…’

‘No way you said that!’ exclaimed the Mariner, who had poked holes in Marcus,’ logic throughout the tale. ‘That’s something you think of afterwards and shoehorn into a story.’

Marcus began to protest but Bertha caught his attention.

‘What happened next? Did you kill Mad Mulligan? And his men? Is that how you got his gun? Why did you try ancient Nuka-Cola?’

All valid questions.

Marcus laughed, easing back on his stool as he drained the remnants of his beer.

‘Well, kid… they all saw Reason in the end.’

[homebrewsno1asked4]

Wah

Full disclosure: I played an entire 20-level Dungeons and Dragons campaign as a character based on Waluigi.

An entire campaign

like almost 2(?) years of my life

playing a joke character

I based on Waluigi.

Scratchy nasal voice and going waaa and everything.

I wore a goddamn Waluigi hat.

I’m torn on this, folks. On the one hand, I feel like I should’ve changed my character to a more original creation after a couple levels. Play as a joke character for a little while to get used to 5E, then switch over to one of my brainchildren.

On the other hand, I fucking love Waluigi. I’ve wanted a Waluigi game since the Nintendo 64 era. I despaired when Nintendo failed us again last year (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, SAKURAI).

Well, what’s done is done. My Level Ridiculous Moon Elf Rogue-Ranger is part of our old group’s canon timeline, becoming the kingpin of the Baldur’s Gate underworld.

Strange, the passing of time.

Without further ado, a Waluigi build! After I deleted like half my notes when I shouldn’t have. Not like it was an accident - it was a totally conscious decision I regretted a few days later when trying to figure out why the hell I picked the things I did.

TOO BAD, WALUIGI TIME.

Race

Outwardly, Waluigi’s clearly a half-elf, if I had to pick a Wizards-sanctioned D&D race. Noodle build, big pointy ears, somehow still grows facial hair.

In the campaign I mentioned, I made my boy a moon elf. And his mustache was magical because elves can’t grow facial hair. I never fully fleshed out the magic mustache’s origin.

Functionally, neither elf nor half-elf caters to the Waluigi experience. Half-elves get that major Charisma bump. Waluigi’s not a charismatic fella; doesn’t play nice with others, throws fits. You know the type. Plus the Fey Ancestry feature doesn’t quite match up.

My number one choice? Githyanki.

That little Intelligence increase: Between him and Wario, he’s supposed to be a bit more cunning, more the Snidely Whiplash type.

Strength Boost: Waluigi’s always statted as a heavyweight/high-power character.

Githyanki Psionics: So githyanki get these psionic-flavored spell-like abilities at levels 1, 3, and 5. Mage Hand’s a bit of a stretch. Idk, Waluigi always has an abnormally long reach in Mario Sportball. But githyanki get Jump and Misty Step at levels 3 and 5, respectively. In multiple games, Waluigi has Super Jump abilities, and in at least one of the Mario Strikers titles, he has the ability to kind of Nightcrawler-bamf while he’s running.

Note: I’m aware Gith are kinda… noseless. Maybe your Waluigi Gith wears a false one, or a plague doctor mask, I dunno. Like he’s self-conscious about not having a nose, or the nose and mustache is their shitty disguise and everyone just goes along with it.

Class

Again, I picked Rogue for my way-too-long tenure playing High Fantasy Waluigi.

Looking back, I don’t think that was a bad way to go. He’s highly skilled, has well-rounded stats with an emphasis on Defense and Control (equal to DEX in a D&D framework, I guess?), and a set of special moves focused on sabotaging other characters.

I considered Alchemist (the ENWorld template), because Waluigi and his stages and items and stuff usually have a bomb motif. But beyond the bombs, I don’t think the Alchemist’s abilities are as neat a fit.

Subclass

My version of a D&D Waluigi was an Arcane Trickster. After looking into some of his more obscure abilities, I think that was the best way to go! Unfortunately, I didn’t use my abilities to their full Waluigi-ness.

The Mario Bros. and Wario all need power-ups to give them an edge. (With a few notable exceptions, like in Superstar Saga where Mario and Luigi unlock the ability to wield fire and lightning, respectively.) Waluigi, on the other hand, demonstrates several innate magical abilities. To name a few: surrounding himself with whirlwinds, summoning walls of thorns, filling the arena with water, cloaking his projectiles with illusions, etc. These lend beautifully to an Arcane Trickster, with a suggested spell list below:

Cantrips

gust

mage hand

minor illusion

shape water

true strike

Level 1

catapult

feather fall

fog cloud

jump

magic missile

silent image

Level 2

darkvision

dust devil

gust of wind

levitate

magic weapon

misty step

warding wind

Level 3

fireball

major image

tidal wave

wall of water

Level 4

control water

dimension door

Evard’s black tentacles

Background

The Criminal background seems obvious, but mechanically, I think two other backgrounds fit better:

Gladiator (Entertainer variant) and Harborfolk (Elemental Evil).

Acrobatics because that boy can jump (I’d rather demonstrate with GIFs, but I am lazy) and he can like swim through the air for no reason; and he’s a big ol ham, so Performance.

Gladiator also grants you proficiency in an unusual weapon. In all his appearances, Waluigi doesn’t really use weapons, besides bombs and Bullet Bills and other explosives/ballistics. If your DM allows firearms in their world, that could be his “Unusual Weapon” proficiency. Otherwise, I was thinking if I had the chance to redo a Waluigi-inspired character, I would use bats; baseball bats, tennis rackets, cricket bats (I like the image of D&D Waluigi cracking skulls with a cricket bat, I dunno why), etc. You could probably just borrow stats for clubs.

For Harborfolk: Athletics and Sleight of Hand make sense to me, and because of his high Control in the Mario Kart series, I’d say any vehicle proficiency is a good fit.

Suggested Characteristics

Gladiator

Personality Trait: I get bitter if I’m not the center of attention.

Ideal: Greed. I'm only in it for the money and fame.

Bond: I want to be famous, whatever it takes.

Flaw: I have trouble keeping my true feelings hidden. My sharp tongue lands me in trouble.

Harborfolk

Personality Trait: I'm a fisher, but I secretly detest eating fish. I will do anything to avoid it.

Ideal: I will gain the favor of someone powerful.

Bond: [A gang/faction] killed my friend. I'll get them back somehow, someday.

Flaw: I oversell myself and make promises I can't keep when I want to impress someone.

Suggested Feats

Acrobat

Athlete

Defensive Duelist

Durable

Elemental Adept

Magic Initiate

Resilient

Sharpshooter

Skilled

Spell Sniper

Congrats! You survived my first post! Your reward?

MORE TRASH!!

Stay tuned for just a bit more Waluigi!

“Please no stop with the Waluigi. I will kill myself and then you if you say “Waluigi” one more goddamn time.”

I hear you. I’m not changing my behavior, but I hear your complaints. But let me explain:

For some characters, I’ll be following up the “Canon Builds” (the format of this here post) with a new subclass targeting these characters. I’ll usually make a “Character Class” if some vital part of the character and their abilities feels missing from the Canon Build, if I couldn’t find anything that fit.

For instance, I relied on a lot of stretches of the imagination for Waluigi, relying on stuff like his Mario Sportball stats and specials to select the closest analogous things in D&D. Using Arcane Trickster, I captured some of his weirder, more obscure abilities.

But remember the Snidely Whiplash thing I mentioned earlier? I feel like that’s Waluigi’s core: explosives and sabotage. And other classes known for using explosives – Artificer and Alchemist – I don’t think quite cut it.

So stay tuned for the Dastardly Prankster Roguish Archetype! Unless I come up with a better name! Until then, ta-ta!

[probablybisexualrpgideas]

Bidea #156

Make a bisexual harborfolk rogue kenra who chooses mastermind.

[probablybisexualrpgideas]

Bidea #220

Make a bisexual harborfolk fighter hobgoblin who chooses purple dragon knight.

[probablybisexualrpgideas]

Bidea #122

Make a bisexual harborfolk fighter ixalan goblin who chooses monster hunter.

[probablybisexualrpgideas]

First of all, I love and appreciate your blog! Second, can you recommend some interesting bi aarakocra ideas for me to play? I looked through the two or so you have and wanted to know if you had more, because all of your ideas are so good!

Long post ahead!

If you prefer synergy with aarakocra, due to aarakocra gaining an ability score increase to dexterity and wisdom, Monks and Rangers are best, while Clerics, Druids benefit well from the wisdom increase and Fighters, Rogues, and Bards benefit the most from the dexterity increase.

Artificer: an aarakocra who chooses Alchemist could drop alchemical fire from above their enemies or one who chooses gunsmith could snipe from high ground.

Barbarian: while path of the totem warrior with a totem spirit of eagle is a great thematic choice, what about aquatic bird type aarakocra (such as a seagull) with a path of the storm herald sea storm aura? A barbarian who can fly with wings is able to use them while raging unlike a barbarian who can cast fly, which could lead to some pretty impressive intimidation rolls.

Bard: I really like the image of a college of satire aarakocra. The embarrassing gaffes from the results of a Fool’s Luck penalty could involve accidentally knocking an important set of tinkerer’s tools off a table when you stretch your wings or getting a talon caught in a floorboard when you tried to somersault during a tumble.

Cleric: the suggested deities would be Syranita, Aerdrie Faenya, Akadi, Remnis, and Stronmaus.

Syranita suggested domains: Life, Light, Nature, Protection

Aerdrie Faenya suggested domains: Tempest, Trickery, Nature, Life

Akadi suggested domains: Tempest, Nature

Remnis suggested domains: Arcana, Knowledge, Life, Nature, Tempest

Stronmaus suggested domains: Life, Light, Nature, Protection, Strength, Tempest, War

Druid: It may be worth considering an aarakocra who finds shifting into beast shapes without flight (at least until level 8) to be restrictive. Would a thematic aarakocra go best with having a hawk spirit totem from circle of the shepard? Would an aarakocra do well with mountain circle spells from circle of the land? The most jarring idea I can think of is perhaps an aarakocra with underdark chosen from circle of the land - aarakocra are typically claustrophobic and prefer the open air, so what ideas would this one have that are so contrary?

Fighter: for the person who wants to put in the least amount of effort worrying about leveling their character, I would always suggest a fighter with archetype champion: short, sweet, and to the point. An aarakocra with arcane archer could get excellent sniping positions with their flight. Another jarring idea would be a cavalier aarakocra who rides mounted into battle - perhaps on an elephant?

Monk: having an unarmored movement bonus with a character capable of flight is very powerful. It honestly approaches levels of broken when combined with the Feline Agility feature of tabaxi. It��s certainly worth considering that you would do slashing damage with your unarmed strikes, not bludgeoning. An aarakocra with open hand technique could knock two different enemies prone at third level in a single turn of combat. A way of shadows aarakocra could use cloak of shadows to fly totally invisible at level 11 in dim light or darkness. This class synergizes with aarakocra well… perhaps a little too well, so consult with your DM.

Mystic: mystic is the most complicated class to play because of the diversity of disciplines, causing the largest range of options possible within any class. I would probably not choose order of the soul knife or order of the avatar, which grants proficiency in medium armor, since you would have to choose between whether or not you wanted to fly or use the better armor. Order of the Immortal grants some better AC when you’re not wearing armor at all, so it might be one of the better options.

Paladin: Oath options! The same deities from cleric are suggested here.

Oath of the Ancients: this works best with neutral good deities and ones with the light domain

Oath of Conquest: this works best with nongood lawful deities with war domain or strength domain

Oath of the Crown: this works best with lawful deities

Oath of Devotion: this works best with nonevil deities

Oath of Redemption: this works best with pacifistic deities due to the tenet of peace.

Oath of Vengeance: this is best for neutral or lawful neutral paladins and deities with war domain or strength domain

Ranger: the most thematic favored enemy is elementals if you are from the elemental plane of air. Very few aarakocra will pick Underdark to be the favored terrain or choose tunnel fighter fighting style/close quarters shooter fighting style. Horizon Walker would do well with aarakocra who enjoy adventuring to portals to find other worlds. Your dexterity ability score increase helps your battle stats while your wisdom ability score increase helps most with your skill checks and spells.

Rogue: kenku rogues are popular… not so much aarakocra rogues. An inquisitive aarakocra buffs their perception and insight… getting advantage with Steady Eye on perception and investigation checks is very powerful and worth considering.

Sorcerer: An aarakocra with Giant Soul sorcerous origin makes me grin because I just imagine an even larger than average aarakocra, you know? They would go well with cloud or storm giant ancestry. Otherwise I would consider a Storm Sorcery aarakocra if you’re going for thematic or perhaps even phoenix sorcery if you wanted to play with a fiery aarakocra.

Warlock: let’s talk about otherwordly patrons!

Archfey: I’m strongly Unseelie Court aligned, so I will always suggest the Queen of Air and Darkness.

Celestial: your aarakocra’s wings might be more deva in origin, more couatl like, and you might even be in a pact with either of those.

Fiend: as a DM my favorite fiends to use are Zariel, Graz’zt, Glasya (I sometimes play Graz’zt and Glasya as the same deity), and Asmodeus. The patron you pick here will drastically alter what they expect of your character.

The Ghost in the Machine: this patron only works if you are playing a modern magic campaign. I quite like the idea of an aarakocra pecking away at a keyboard to hack into a major corporation’s website.

The Great Old One: Evard’s Black Tentacles cast by an aarakocra would make a pretty fantastic battle scene. I tend to pick the Great Mother of beholders as this type of patron.

The Hexblade: medium armor is not so handy for you. Hexblade Curse is just in general really good. If you’re allowed to make your talons your hexblade, that could be fascinating.

The Raven Queen: bird related deity meets birdlike humanoid. It’s a match made in the Shadowfell.

The Seeker: you pick this one when you want to have Astral Plane related adventures.

The Undying: Legend Lore spell with a sage aarakocra works well together.

Wizard: a Lore Mastery sage aarakocra would work well, all things considered.

Let’s talk about backgrounds. Dnd Beyond suggests that outlander, hermit, and sage backgrounds are the most appropriate for aarakocra. Whenever I don’t know what background I want to make a character, I usually pick outlander. The least likely background I can think of are Earthspur Miner and Harborfolk, but any background can be pulled off if you want. It’s dnd! You get what you make of it.