Epic DnD - Scales of War
Deva Sorceress of the Celestial Spheres
== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ==
Adara Moondancer, level 2
Build: Cosmic Sorcerer
Spell Source Option: Cosmic Magic
Imbuer (Imbuer Benefit)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STR 16, CON 10, DEX 13, INT 10, WIS 11, CHA 18
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
STR 16, CON 10, DEX 13, INT 10, WIS 9, CHA 16
AC: 14 Fort: 14 Ref: 12 Will: 17
HP: 27 Surges: 6 Surge Value: 6
Arcana +6, Bluff +10, Diplomacy +10, Insight +6
Acrobatics +2, Athletics +4, Dungeoneering +1, Endurance +1, Heal +1, History +3, Intimidate +5, Nature +1, Perception +1, Religion +3, Stealth +2, Streetwise +5, Thievery +2
Basic Attack: Melee Basic Attack
Basic Attack: Ranged Basic Attack
Deva Racial Power: Memory of a Thousand Lifetimes
Sorcerer Attack 1: Burning Spray
Sorcerer Attack 1: Energy Strobe
Sorcerer Attack 1: Ray of the Moon
Sorcerer Attack 1: Cosmos Call
Sorcerer Utility 2: Sorcerous Sirocco
Level 1: Staff Expertise
Level 2: Arcane Spellfury
Staff Implement x1
Cloth Armor (Basic Clothing) x1
Holy Symbol x1
== End ==
From a disgusting crater in the abyss lunged a demon so foul anyone who looked upon its dread form risked insanity. It stood nearly twenty feet tall; it had four powerfully muscled arms, tipped with claws large enough to shred a draft horse in one swing. Great red wings spread from the back while porcupine quills ran down from the crown of its head to the tip of its tail. It had a face like a shark, with teeth to match. To make matters worse another maw sat where its stomach should. The demonic beast held a sword that seemed to be forged from still boiling lava in one of its over-sized hands.
The horrific beast leapt towards its prey; little did it know that the mortals that dared to invade its home were prepared.
The beast’s greatsword flew down, ready to cleave the skull of one such mortal. The dragonborn that was the demons target was dressed in the hide of some other saurian beast, perhaps a wyrm. He too wielded a two handed blade in his green clawed hands. With a cheer the brawny fighter covered in tribal tattoos parried the lava sword. The blades met and sparks played along the lengths’ of the weapons. The demon’s sword bled choking smoke and embers, while the barbarian’s dripped with condensation, where frost met ember the flames were quickly doused.
The demon, for a moment, was shocked; the strength in the dragonborn’s arms was sufficient to hold off its mighty stroke. The abyssal creature recouped quicker than the barbarian and reached out to rend with two of its three free hands, claws twitching; eagerly seeking to eviscerate the dragonborn.
“No you don’t abomination!” cried a new voice. As the claws descended, one was blocked high by an exquisitely beautiful elven longsword. There was no strength behind the parry, but skill and agility turned the claw just the same. The other talon almost connected with the green-scaled dragonborn, when a tracery of shielding magic leapt up to intercede. The demon growled in rage and turned towards the new threat. An eladrin warrior had stepped in to aid his companion. The demon, who could remember the crown wars from millennia passed, recognized the eladrin for what he was. A swordmage trained in the coronal’s tradition; using sword and spell to defend their allies from all but the worst attacks. The arrogant eladrin sneered at the beast and flicked the acidic blood off his blade, “What is this beast, Lafayette? Besides repulsive,” the swordmage called to another eladrin who stood a couple yards away.
While the swordmage had all of the arrogance and agility of his eladrin race, the woman that stood farther back had all the enchanting charm of those born in the Feywild. Her lips pouted in contemplation, “A Klurichir, I believe. A beast just one step below an abyssal prince, a being even more chaotic and destructive than other demons, if you can believe it; beware that second mouth, one word uttered from that maw can make you a feeble wit. Although I doubt it will have an effect on you Trex, you cannot lose what you do not have,” the gorgeous fey then began to twirl her hands in arcane gestures.
The dragonborn guffawed, “Lafyette funny! C’mon Vi let’s cut up a demon!” The barbarian leapt back into the fray. Each time the demon would begin to attack Vivificus’ sword or magic was there to block, parry or ward the blow away. Trex used this time to slash at the beast, his frozen blade carving deep into the monster’s bulk with each swing. The barbarous dragonborn began to chant in his guttural tribal tongue, releasing his innermost primal self, losing himself in a bloody rage.
Lafyette smirked to see the men contest with the monster, she was glad she didn’t have to swing a sword around like her two companions; it just looked like too much work if you asked her. Lucky for the eladrin noble she had more to offer than just another blade. She closed her eyes to pull at the magic that was locked deep in her fey heritage. With a shouted phrase a score of lightning bolts flew from her fingers. Each struck the Klurichir and left a smoking crater and spasming muscles. Lafyette nodded with approval and began another spell. Enchantments leapt from her body as she called upon all the unbridled power that was hers to command as a sorceress. Perhaps we will not need the others, the arcanist thought to herself.
Just as the fight seemed to be a one-sided massacre, the demon howled a word from the gaping mouth in its torso. Trex covered his ears and screamed in rage. Vivificus attempted to raise a mystical aegis, the mounting magic shattered into motes of light. The swordmage crumpled to the sandy abyssal wastes. The sorceress fell to one knee, she tried to rally her arcane arsenal, Lafyette swore under her breath, the beast had drained all but her most trivial of spells.
“Now or never my daughter,” whispered the sorceress. Her voice flew on the tiniest breeze to ears none too distant.
“Now my love?” asked a slip of a girl, she hadn’t seen her thirtieth winter but her eyes showed such deep compassion and wisdom as she looked at her husband. She was a shifter, the thickness of her hair and slight elongation of her canines the only clue that she was more than human.
“Now,” responded a tall statuesque man. His skin was pearly white with a subtle pattern of slate grey. He was dressed in the flowing alabaster robes that marked him as a holy man. Under the ascetic wrapping was chain armor that also showed him as a warrior. The deva smiled at the shifter. The two companions rounded the hill that they had used as shelter. Their plan was to support their allies when the beast thought it had crushed its opposition.
“Godric, slow the beast, I will tend to the others!” the deva called to his lady-love as he sprinted towards the closest ally, the trembling sorceress.
“Hurry Orion!” called the shifter as she tore into a pouch at her hip. She pulled forth a single acorn. This strange little oddment, even fired from a sling, wouldn’t even scratch the demon’s hide. Godric had other plans for the tiny seed though. She began to whisper to the acorn, telling it about all the spirits of nature, teaching it that one day it would grow big and strong. With primal energy the acorn began to glow. With one more whispered encouragement the young druid tossed the acorn towards the Klurichir.
The tiny seed fell to the ground and rolled a bit before stopping. The demon on its way to eviscerate the dragonborn paused for a moment to stare at such an odd thing. The beast probably had never seen such a seed, when a demon was summoned to the prime material plane it usually stayed only to slaughter as many innocents as it could. The Klurichir returned its attention to the fallen barbarian. That was its mistake.
The seed cracked just once, a tiny tendril of green flowed from the crack. The tendril was topped by a delicate if not miniature oak leaf. Then with all the fury that nature contains the acorn shattered into a tree that towered over the demon. From the great oak dozen of acorns fell to the sandy ground, there each sprouted again into another oak tree, the process repeated until the beast found itself in a tiny pocket of a primordial forest. In the gloom it had lost its quarry.
Orion shook his head in amazement. Godric had the most profound connection with the primal spirits that he could recall throughout the thousands of lifetimes that laid half remembered in his being. While the demon floundered in the woods, attempting to despoil this natural beauty as demons are wont to do, Orion had been busy. He had gathered his allies and laid them out in a straight line. He had already applied salves and bandages to the most pressing of injuries. Now he turned towards more mystical curatives.
Orion pulled out his holy symbol, something that barely any would recognize in this day and age. The pendant was shaped like a ruby rose, and backed with the rising sun; the symbol of the Morninglord Lathander. This god had disappeared during the Spellplague to reemerge as the ancient sun god Amauntor. If Amauntor found any fault with the deva praying to the prior incarnation he never showed his displeasure. The rosy light leapt from the deva and fell over his comrades. Trex and Vivificus groped for their weapons, they were used to this ministration and leapt back into the fray. Lafyette pushed herself from the now loamy forest floor.
“Orion, are you sure that this artifact is worth my daughter’s life?” the eladrin noble asked quietly. The sorceress had found the tiny shifter child in the woods some decades before and since had raised the girl as her daughter. Lafyette had given up adventuring that day, just to be pulled back in by her daughter when she had come to age. Like mother, like daughter, the sorceress though bitterly.
“Godric knows the risks we are taking, and yes the Arcanum Solaris is an ancient tome, so powerful if returned to its place among the Sunlords will be a mighty tool at preventing any more demonic incursions in the whole of the Moonsea region. Besides Lafyette, I will let no harm befall your daughter and my wife if I yet draw breath.” The deva matched the sorceress’ gaze. As beings barely touched by the hands of time any mortal bystander would have shuddered at the weight of the look.
“See that you don’t deva,” with that the sorceress snapped her fingers and rose into the air. A zephyr called to being by her mighty magic. The sorceress winged towards the demonic foe, revitalized she began pouring all manner of spells on top of their enemy. From dragonfire to multicolored mist that attacked the monstrous mind of the demon.
Orion ran into the fray himself. He drew a warhammer that shone like the sun at high noon and swung at the beast. Trex matched his strike blow for blow. Vivificus wrapped the Klurichir in chains of pure force, while Godric marshaled the primal spirits who attacked with all four elements. The demon finally fell to their superior numbers and tactics. Orion merely raised an eyebrow when the fighting had ended. Of course he had only fought demons on the material plane where after defeat they vanished back to their abyssal homes. Here though the demon just leaked its ichor into the ground as the last of the colossal beasts breath left it.
Godric tore off towards the cavern-like hole in which the beast had first lunged from. The others were swift to catch up. The sooner they had the ancient codex the sooner they could leave this stinking layer of the abyss.
The plucky shifter located the book on a pedestal by a great throne, apparently where the demon rested when not pillaging or war making,” Here it is!” she called out. Orion reached for the Arcanum Solaris, feeling the power that reflected his deity’s magnificence.
With a demonic cackle, the demon returned in a puff of brimstone. “Die tiny woman!” the monster screamed in abyssal, a tongue so foul that only the most sinister or intelligent could master its complexities.
The Klurichir was still only a step from death’s door but in a last-ditch effort it strove to take one of the adventurers who laid it low with it. The great claws closed around the druid, threatening to tear Godric into miniscule pieces. The demon fell slack, true death had claimed it. Godric lay in her own blood; her eyes glassy, her chest unmoving.
“No!” everyone in attendance called.
Orion slumped to the ground and grabbed his wife’s already cold fingers.
Orion plunged into himself seeking the tiny shard of divine light that connected him to the gods of Faerun. In millennia past the deva had been an angel in the service of all gods. The great beings had been fighting a war with the primordials, the goldlike elementals that had shaped creation only to later decide to destroy it. When they had finally defeated the primordials the gods had recognized that the mortal world could benefit from their protection, their most powerful champions were selected to become this new race.
Devas are blessed to return after each death in a new incarnation. They return to keep the world safe. Most seek the Astral Sea again, the home of gods and angels, so they work great good in the world, with the belief that each time they reincarnate they are one step closer to realizing their angelic purpose.
“Lathander…Amauntor…Bahamut…any that I have served over the countless years here my plea, this woman is my love, nay this life’s light. I don’t seek to call in favors but I know that I have served you very well. I have always left the world a little better before I died. I’d give it all up to let her live. I ask nothing for myself. Only that she could go one a little longer.”
The deva and the girl disappeared in a flash as bright as the dawning sun. When the light cleared there were only four companions, dragonborn, shifter, and eladrins. They had returned to Toril, codex in hand. They would never see Orion again.
The barbarian raged.
The swordmage cursed.
The druid sobbed.
The sorceress smiled. She knew that Orion would have gladly made that sacrifice a thousand times.
By asking not for yourself and everything for others, you have stumbled upon the true power of prayer.
A tiny ball of light floated in the astral sea. Around this small spirit great leviathans flowed. One that reeked of the battlefield after a war wrapped around that had been Orion mere moments before.
I’ll destroy this lost angel; he squandered our gift to him on one girl. The warlike entity cheered.
A fierce fire interposed itself between the angel and the god. A feminine voice echoed around the strange space.You will not Black Hand, this deva sacrificed for love. I will take him to an eternal reward.
The warlord faded,_ Fine, Heart Warden, but k_now the next one is mine._
Wait, brother and sister, if the angel will have it we will give it one more chance to right a great evil we feel polluting our world. A new voice called. When the other deities regarded this spirit it was as if they stared into the light of the sun. Next to the Sun Lord floated the Moon Maiden constantly followed by the magic of her seven shards. Behind them flowed the serpentine form of the North Star his silver scales glowing with ancient power. The angel formerly known as Orion agreed.
We Three call to you champion. Return to Toril and do thy duty once more. The three gods chanted in unison.
Adara opened her eyes. The deva regarded the small wooded clearing where she had awoken. For the briefest of seconds she recalled all that had transpired. The salvation of Godric, the choice she had made to return to Toril. The loss, the love, and the great gift she had received.
Then the memories were gone. The deva picked up a staff and other gear that had mysteriously appeared much like her. She began walking.
The deva walked for many hours, along the way the deva reflected upon what she knew about herself. Not very much to say the least, when something in the woods startled her, the deva gasped out an arcane stanza. Mystical fire flew from her fingers. Let’s just say there was a very surprised and slightly singed squirrel, as well as a very surprised and singed deva. As she continued walking she practiced the few spells that just seemed to come naturally to her. When she conjured a gout of acid, she felt as if this spell was familiar.
With a flash one of her past memories flowed into her, Adara recalled a tavern and a fiery eladrin sorceress. Behind the spellslinger lurked a smiling shifter girl. It was a good memory it made Adara happy.
Adara resolved to find the closest tavern. It seemed like that had worked in some past lifetime. She wiped away a tear. She had no idea why she would feel happy and cry at the same time. Soon she had found the town of Brindol.
The sorceress smiled. She knew she had started over a thousand times.