#i barely do either but by god i am going to gm this stupid system

[nho-jungle]

the joy of being a gm is cooking smthn absolutely nefarious and knowing ur players are gonna go insane over it.

the woe of being a dm is having no one to tell abt this and having to keep it a secret :(

[terrahistorian]

TELL ME ABOUT JAX'S BACKSTORY :D

Okay, so, this might get a bit long. Jax is one of the most funcharacters I’ve played in D&D in years, and his story has takena lot of turns I didn’t expect, as the best ones always do. Thefinal draft of his backstory was born from several conversationsafter the game began, ways of integrating his story into what we weredoing, and giving him a personal stake, without redefining him.

JX-195 is a 6 year old Construct that killed his creator.

His first memory was of looking out from a pane of glass, floatingin this strange, viscous fluid. After many tests were done on him toconfirm he’d survive his, “Birth,” he was taken out of thechamber, and given his designation, JX-195. The Archmage who createdhim was never given a name, simply being referred to as, “MyCreator.” JX-195 was but the latest in a string of experiments,constructs made using different parts, different methods, differentarcane tricks, all in the hopes of reaching, in a sense, godhood.Creating life from nothing. In order to blend the organic andinorganic parts in JX-195′s creation, the Archmage developed avariation of the Mending spell, transcribed as runic tattoos alongall of his joints. This kept his flesh from rejecting the densermaterials comprising most of his skeleton, but had an unforeseenconsequence; every wound JX-195 received scarred rapidly. Overtime,he’d be more wound than flesh.

JX-195 was a failure. Through teaching him how to read, write, anddispatch of some of his lesser, “Siblings,” his creatorlearned that while JX-195 was an impressive machine, he had noemotions to speak of. No drives, no sorrows, no joys, he simply didas he was told. The archmage saw JX-195 as a blemish on his work,something to be wiped away quickly and thoroughly. JX-195 disagreed.So he took a surgical knife, and stabbed his creator in the backuntil he stopped twitching.

Taking the clothes on his back, the coins he’d been told hadvalue, and his creator’s hidden research notes on his construction,JX-195 set out to see what was out there in this grand world that hadbeen kept from him. He soon learned, however, that his creator wasnot the only foul being out there. In fact, he was nothing if not thenorm.

Beaten, bloodied, his coin stolen, barely holding ontothe, “Meaningless gibberish,” that were the tomes of hisbirth, JX-195 was found by a seemingly generous man. He offered warmmeals, a roof overhead, and work that involved travel and delightsbeyond imagining. He was a slaver, and appealed to JX-195′s baseneeds. Which, technically, were met, and JX-195 understood his placein the world. While there, he was branded across his right eye, andmarked as property of The Matron.

One night, bandits came. Freedom fighters, slaughtering themasters and freeing their slaves. Their leader, Cre’en, an old,jaded, cynical man, who was in it more for revenge than freedom, sawthat JX-195 had nowhere to go, and asked if he wanted to join him fora bit. Thus, JX-195 joined forces with The Wanderer, who gave him hisfirst proper name. Jax. Jax traveled with Cre’en for a year,far longer than most who stayed with him, and was taught how toprotect himself, and how to live among, “Normal, not crazy,slavin’, ass people.” Then, one night, Jax had his first dream.

A crossroads, his first real choice. Down one path, ease, andsolitude, a measure of peace, but ultimately a death and destructionthat shatters the heavens. Down the other, strife, battle, sorrow,but ultimately survival and peace. Along the second path strode threesilhouettes, under the marker of a town not too far from where Cre’enhad made camp. But above both paths, two warriors in gleaming sets ofarmor, beautiful, beguiling, and deadly, to any in their path. And onone warrior, Jax recognized a silken cloak, that had played a part inhis creation.

That night, Jax packed what supplies Cre’en had given him, andleft without a word. Making the short journey to the town in hisdream, it wasn’t long before Jax was found by those threesilhouettes. Mordai, the Tiefling, and defacto leader of this motleycrew. Sparky, the Ifrit, who was literally only there because agolden pineapple he stole told him to. (It was actually Mordaithrowing his voice to make it seem like the pineapple was talking. Atleast, at first) And finally Eren, an Elven cleric who always seemedjust a bit miffed that her god had forced her to work with the othertwo. They had also received dreams from various gods to find eachother, and hunt these two sets of armor. We later learned that theywere called the Greyguard and Paladin sets, eons old artifacts ofHoly Grail level of power and obscurity. Jax lead the way to thefirst piece of armor they’d collected, the cloak he’d recognizedin his dream, and bought his way into the group.

Some time later, the party found another piece, a brass bottlewith a cork topper, in a clearing without any hint of wildlife. Withthe usual stupid bravado of adventurers, we opened it, and a plume ofpurple smoke erupted from the bottle. Rising up out of it, a form farbeyond the size of the bottle itself, a creature of flame, smoke, andmagma rose up to it full height; an Efreeti stood before us, a FireDjinn.

Now, it’s important to note that my DM likes to leave as much tochance as physically possible. She plans a lot, but it’s largelybased on rolls, so twists are as much as a surprise to her as theyare to us. This bottle was no exception. As soon as the bottleopened, she rolled a percentile die. There was a 10% chance that theEfreeti would come out enraged, most likely killing us all. An 80%chance that it would do our bidding for an hour, then disappear. Andfinally, a measly 10% chance that it would arrive magnanimous,offering us three Wishes.

Her dice either hate her, love us, or some sick mixture of thetwo, because the Efreeti bellowed out in Ignan, “What are yourwishes?”

Two game breaking wishes later, that our DM is still pissed offabout, our party was trying to figure out what to do with the finalone. I mean, it’s a Wish, they can’t just be wasted on limitlesscoin and a fast travel system (Oh wait, we already did those). So, mylittle soulless self piped up, “Humanity. I want humanity.”

After some convincing, Mordai, the one who opened the bottle andhad to word the wish, started rattling off a list of, “I wishfor a soul that is kind, just, loyal, brave, trustw-”

The Efreeti cut him off by simply saying, “You cannot havea soul that is all good,” before a glowing orb of color appeared inhis hand, he rammed it into my chest, and disappeared as Jax fellunconscious onto the grass.

That day, Jax had his second dream. He was in a dark void, litonly by the six figures in front of him. They were all differentsouls the Efreeti owned, either by trade or force, and one was to beJax’s. They were of different races, genders, heights. Drow,Dwarves, Humans, and on the very end, a 6 foot tall Dire Pigeon. Ithink that’s the one my DM was hoping I’d get. One roll later, Igot the soul of Yeska Kreskoff, a human cleric, and inadvertentlyestablished Russia as some part of this fantasy world.

This started an arc where Jax struggled to understand threethings. First, his newfound feeling, both emotional and tactile.Second, the lingering consciousness of a tortured and insane Yeska,who began trying to take over Jax’s body to reclaim his life.Eventually, Jax had to beat down and kill Yeska’s consciousness,during a particularly vivid dream. This freed both Yeska and Jax, asJax claimed his soul as his own, and Yeska finally found peace withRoe. And finally third, Jax worked to understand the connection henow found with Yeska’s god, Roe. It turns out that Roe was the onethat sent Jax his first dream, which pointed him down the path offreeing one of his acolytes, and eventually stopping whatevercataclysm is connected to these armors.

So, Jax multiclassed from Fighter into Cleric, as a way to bothatone and thank Yeska and Roe for their sacrifices in freeing Jax.And that choice has been a lot of fun, and I’m really proud thatwas able to give my GM pause with one of the questions I posed Roeduring a communion with him. It had been a few months, and I simplyasked, “Are you pleased with how I’ve grown with this soul?”

It took her a few minutes to answer, but it’s stuck with me eversince. “It’s... Not about me. Am I happy? Yes, absolutely.But all of this is for you, and your growth, and your learning. Whatmatters here, and what I hope you remember, is that you’re not mypawn. You’re not a toy for me to tire of and set aside. I thinkthere are good things we can do together, and ways I can help you,but it has always been, and will remain, about you and your newfoundhappiness. So, if I may ask you a question. Are you happy?”

I ended that communion with a quiet, “Yes.”

Sadly, that was the last truly happy memory Jax has. Since then, him and his party have been collecting more and more of the Armor, and now they have completed both sets. Utilizing their power, the sets have been split among the party, and just recently we’ve let individuals wear a full set. Jax, specifically, has been wearing the Greyguard set. The Alignmentally Evil set. Each set has a consciousness connected to it, and a desire to be used for their own purposes, and the Greyguard has been patient with Jax. The longer he’s worn it, the less he sleeps, the more he depends on the armor, and the more open he is to death. At one point, Jax even contacted the Greyguard’s steed, an Ancient Black Dragon named Dryn, and struck a deal with him. Knowledge for power. I told Dryn all of our plans, everything we had done, and in return he allowed Jax to cast Power Word Kill once a day so long as he wears the full set of Greyguard armor, whose continued use is fraying what stability Jax has left.

Jax has never known peace. His six years have been nothing but imprisonment, battle, slavery, harsh travels, and feeling as though he’s a hacky sack for the gods. But I doubt that’s how his story will end. I suspect something with books, maybe a library. He hasn’t found his happy ending, but his story isn’t done yet. And I think that’s all any of us can say.