AndrewDM.me DND

Schools of Psionics

2016-12-31T22:48:59-07:00

From what I've seen, the most recent few 5e Unearthed Arcana dealing with "Psionics and the Mystic" have been getting somewhat mixed reviews. I don't think this is because of the mechanics--or rather not COMPLETELY because of the mechanics. Mechanics for psionics have always been weird, and the 5e style is good for D&D, so maintaining that is good and won't get any gripes from me.

But I think that no matter what purely mechanical tweaks the UA team has planned for the Mystic, the general lukewarm reception isn't going to change unless we get something else squared away first. Something a little deeper--something that helps us grasp Psionics in the same way we grasp Magic: with a complete and intuitive system.

With Weave-based magic there are schools which somewhat delineate magical effects (conjuration, divination, etc), but that's not exactly what I mean. Not to bash the magical schools (any system will have inconsistencies--mine notwithstanding), but few people really understand what it means to be a wizard by what school of magic they specialize in. An enchantment wizard isn't fundamentally different from an evocation one. But a wizard is different than a bard or a warlock. These "Schools of Psionics" are as much about the state of mind of the manifester and the method for manifestation as they are about the outcome of the manifestation (there are several of my Psionic "schools" that may each manifest effects in the transmutation school of magic for instance, but each according to its own particular rules).

What I mean is this:

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

	Introvertion (a)	Extroversion (b)
Mind (1)	Cogitation	Domination
Body (2)	Sympathy	Manifestation
Time (3)	Prescience	Anticipation
Space (4)	Metapsionics	Apportation

There are eight categories split into two primary focuses and four topical domains, and each of the eight describes HOW a power is manifested. It tells us what our character is DOING to get the blasted power to work. As a D&D culture, we know how wizards do it, careful study and recitation, memorization, etc. We know how Bards do it, they hear the music of creation and wrap their words in it. All these effects are propagated through Mystra's Weave and are bound by it's limitations. But nobody has a clue how Psionics works. Or rather, we all have half-baked ideas that don't jive.

In order for this to work, we need to know in canon, what it means to BE A PSIONIST and manifest powers. I'm probably no different than anybody else in my half-baked understanding, but as a Physicist and an editor I feel it is my duty to try to make sense of this mess.

First off, since we don't have a Weave, but all magic needs a medium, lets make one. Lets call it the Psionic Field. Created spontaneously from the first thinking being (or Source), the Psionic Field exists on any plane containing thought. Some sources of psionic power are stronger than others, but all thinking things produce some connection to the field (some might wonder if magic and the Weave itself is naught but an echo of Mystra's or Auppenser's mind--and in that light perhaps the Psionic Field is not so foreign after all).

With that medium in place, the world of Psionics slowly falls into place as well. Detailed descriptions of the eight schools follow:

1a) Cogitation - Clarity of thought, memory, action, and connection to the Psionic Field.

Cogitation is often one's first exposure to Psionics. It's a clear-mindedness that opens up your own mind to see itself for the first time, and beyond that, to sense the edges of the minds of others. It includes the stereotypical bloody-nosed mind reading, mimicry, and perfect recall.

Examples of Cogitation include "Detect Thoughts" and "Mind Meld" and the ability to learn or borrow skills and proficiencies directly from the minds of others.

1b) Domination - Exert dominating willpower over other minds.

Once you've encountered sources outside yourself it is only natural to try to influence or even dominate them. Exerting your will into the minds of others isn't the same as reading their thoughts, you might not know what your target is thinking, only that it will succumb.

Examples of Domination include "Command", "Suggestion", and "Dominate Person".

2a) Sympathy - Exerting influence upon sympathetic objects.

The Psionic Field is produced by thinking creatures, but it can leave an imprint on even mundane objects and materials. Objects may be imbued with Psionic energy to produce a variety of effects, and may soak up ambient energy by just sitting within the Psionic Field which can be later be discerned by a Psionist to know about an object's history. This is done by expanding your sense of self outward from your mind and body and into the object.

Examples of Sympathy include "Psychometry", "Animate Objects", and "Guards and Wards".

2b) Manifestion - Creating both illusory and physically manipulable constructs of pure thought.

By focusing and condensing ideas down to their most concrete forms, Psionists can manifest the essence of a thing as either an illusion or as a real physical object made of Astral matter (ectoplasm). Astral matter is most commonly associated with the Astral plane (or plane of thought) where it occurs naturally, but can exist anywhere with a sufficient psionic field for a Psionist to conjure it.

Examples of Manifestation include "Mage Hand", "Conjure Astral Construct", and "Programmed Illusion"

3a) Prescience - See and feel other places and times.

Because the actions of thinking things (sources of psionics) are not stagnant, their movements create ripples in the Psionic Field. Births, deaths, and exchanges of knowledge leave their marks. By studying these echos and patterns, Psionists can discern events that occurred in distant parts of the world or even in the past or future.

Examples of Prescience include "Detect Poison and Disease", "Scrying", and "Foresight".

3b) Anticipation - Solidify expectation and possibility into reality.

In many ways the Universe itself is just composed of the interactions of groups of sources of psionism and the objects being pulled in their wake (albeit a rather large number of each). With an awareness of the way ripples propagate in the Psionic Field and by using the techniques of Sympathy but directing them outwards, a Psionist can begin to subtly manipulate expectation and the laws of Physics themselves.

Examples of Anticipation include "Heat Metal", "Telekinesis", "Reverse Gravity", and "Time Stop".

4a) Metapsionics - Manipulating sources of Psionism and their direct effects.

The way that thinking creatures interact with the Psionic Field is complicated and diverse, just as the creatures which produce it are themselves. By studying how the minds of Psionically-attuned creatures create Psionic and even Magical Weave-based effects, a Psionist can learn to imitate or manipulate psionic effects as they see them (and sometimes use what they've learned to imbue limited psionic potential into others).

Examples of Metapsionics include "Detect Magic", "Counterspell", and "Awaken"

4b) Apportation - Pulling and pushing on planar boundaries with the Psionic Field.

Since the material plane is not the only one with thinking creatures, some far-minded Psionists can detect the Psionic Field existing on other planes of existence and pull on these remote fields of power. Doing so can banish alien creatures, abjure harmful elemental effects, or even tear open portals to distant planes and places.

Examples of Apportation include "Dimension Door", "Banishment", and "Whitefire Portal"

== Post Script ==

Q: Specifics (where do these fit in?) - A: Answer

What about Soul Knives??? - A soul knife is just an adept who uses a combination of Manifestation and Sympathy to conjure a blade and imbue it with different Sympathetic effects. In a similar way, you can use these eight to extend specific domains on to different classes. Psionic warrior? Uses Sympathy to strengthen his body and Prescience to predict the strikes of his enemy. Psionic rogue? Apportation to teleport around or Cogitation to read minds to cheat at cards (or memorize the deck). Once the system is in place, the variations build themselves because you know what's possible and what isn't. Restriction breeds Creativity. You gotta know the rules to use them.

What's all this about "Psionist?" Isn't it "Psion" - In my understanding a "Psion" is a mystic who uses metapsionics to manipulate her own mind into casting spells with the Weave. It is also a term that gets some use for a general practitioner of psionics. It is also one of those 4e tattoo addicts... just a really overloaded term really. Psionist sounds the best to me as a general term like "mage."

What's the difference between Sympathy and Anticipation when moving/lifting things? - In Sympathy, you convince the object to move by extending your sense of self into it and lifting it yourself, in Anticipation, it moves because you trick the Universe into thinking the object should already be moving and so the Universe does it for you. Expanding self is all monk-like vs. essentially casting Luck Bending spells.

Apportation includes an allusion to "Whitefire Portal". What's that? - Oh, just this cool thing I made:

Whitefire Portal: You burn a temporary hole through the Astral Plane and into another plane of your choice. Once per long rest, centered on a point within 300 ft of you, you summon raw Astral ectoplasm which burns with hellish, white-hot fury. Any creature standing within 20 feet of the whitefire must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 12d10 fire damage or half on a successful save. Inanimate objects in the area also take the damage and flammable objects may catch on fire. A portal then opens to the chosen plane as with a Gate spell and remains open for 1 minute as the planes slowly knit themselves back together. Alternatively, instead of a specific location on a plane of your choice, you may choose to have your portal open into a generally inhospitable location in one of the elemental planes or the planes of positive or negative energy. If you do so, creatures who enter or begin their turns within 20 feet of the portal take 6d10 damage of the appropriate elemental or energy type.

I'm actually working on an entire Psionist class for eventual publication on the Dungeon Master's Guild (or as part of my "MagnumOpis-MagicOfTheMultiverse" which covers EVERYTHING magical as I understand it). Of course if somebody #wotcstaff wants to buy it and/or hire me, I'd be totally up for #theorycrafting for a living.

Spell Gauntlet: Practical Spellcasting

2016-12-31T22:48:59-07:00

Teleport

Wizard - ft. Ula Mindis

The young Wizard Ula Mindis awoke to the smell of steeping tea.

She sighed, opened her sleep-encrusted eyes, and yawned. Another day. Another attempt. She rolled out of bed and drifted over to the window. It was cracked open, but she threw it wide to welcome the morning air and golden sunrise into her bedroom, or study rather. She'd recently moved her most used bookcases in here for easy access. Her spellbook sat open at its usual spot, turned to the page she'd most recently been studying. This particular spell she'd attempted half a dozen times to no avail, but this morning felt somehow auspicious for it.

Ula looked over the first line. The elven letters were written in her own hand. She had copied the carefully penned italic espruar letters from an old scroll recovered from a captured pirate ship no more than a tenday ago and had tried to cast the spell immediately. When she failed, she had rechecked the writing a dozen times against every source she could find, so she was sure that the letters weren't the problem, she was.

The tea arrived, cup wobbling in midair, held by a construct of pure magical force, whom she thanked politely. The morning breeze caught the bay spray and filled the room with the smell of salt and sorcery.

Perhaps she could not cast the spell, Ula mused, because she was perfectly happy exactly where she was.

Emboldened by the tea, she shook away the thought and dove again into the spell. Just imagine what was possible! No longer would she have to send away for expensive spell components. She could just say the words and pick them up herself. She could visit her family back in Mulmaster or take a vacation on the shores of some exotic beach island.

She finished the first line, an anchoring, and began on the second. While the first had been filled with words of permanence and stability, the second was quite the opposite, using words of whimsy and transcendence. She had gone over this before, even looking up words and pronunciation from the deepest parts of her library.

This time though, the spell began to make sense. Like a distant blur on the horizon solidifying into a ship, but that didn't mean that she could sail upon it. No, the spell would likely take another tenday to work through at this rate.

She moved to the next line, back to permanence, repetition, solidity, before turning again to shifting sand and billowing wind. The salty sea-spray began to blow against her spellbook, almost flipping the page mid-sentence. She nearly cursed, but a mage learns to be careful with errant words early in her education, and she remained silent. She reached for her tea, but it had grown cold. She absent-mindedly heated it with a cantrip and brought the near-boiling mug to her lips.

Ow!

She set it down again and sent her unseen servant for an ice-block for the tea.

She thought about ice, about water, then again about the spell.

Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity.

That was it!

By the time the ice-cube arrived the tea was long forgotten.

"Of course! The key isn't thinking about location at all, it's about matter! I'm solid right now. I need to be liquid! A solid cannot move, but a liquid flows, through time, through space, it doesn't matter!"

Ula poured herself into the spell and the teacup clattered to the floor as she used her full concentration on the spell at hand. She focused on the market down below her. Fish-mongers barked their catches to the passersby and coin flowed freely.

The words came one after another perfectly, Ula could almost predict them. Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity.

And suddenly she was in the marketplace.

The surprised merchants around her started then blushed as she cheered "I did it! I did it!" and jumped up and down.

Only after nearly a minute of excited and likely bewildering explanation to the surprised fellows did Ula realize she had not changed from her slip and nightgown yet.

Oh well. She needn't be that embarrassed. She could always move; now the world was at her fingertips.

Sorcerer - ft. Saffron Dayl'asaar

Saffron looked at the picture of the remote village.

"You've got to be kidding me." she stated in deadpan.

"No, I assure you that is the location of the disturbance!" said the thin old actuary. He stooped over the table with a lens held to one eye peering at her as if he expected her to pop out of existence at any second.

Which, admittedly, she was likely to do, assuming of course that she could locate the stlarned place to disappear to.

"No, I mean, this is the best information you have?"

"Oh yes. Absolutely positively the best. The mine is just right by the village you see. That is where Betrice, our informant that is, recovered the clues. It's just luck that she thought the mine pretty and drew it for us in such exquisite detail."

Exquisite detail my arse. thought Saffron.

The eldest child of the now-esteemed Dayl'asaar family of Aglarond, Saffron had always been the adventurous one, even more so than her trio of older brothers. So when the Institute came knocking three years ago, Saffron was the one to take up the call, not her father, not her brothers, but little Saffron spell-touched. Plus, she was the only one of them capable of the kind of magics that the Institute really lacked, even though the spells didn't always go off exactly as she planned.

"Okay. It will have to do." She snatched up the paper and her traveling gear and concentrated on the picture and on her breathing.

The mine was rather typical, but the old actuary, the elder one of the Minster Brothers who ran the Institute for the Recovery of Rare and Dangerous Artifacts, had supplied her with an atlas of remarkable detail and enough stories to feel as if she knew the place intimately. Or perhaps at least enough to try to translocate to it.

Saffron felt her breath go out into the world and spread out impossibly far. The world shift beneath her. She felt connected to the strands of the Weave around her, following them like a cart along a track, but moving impossibly fast. Her mind raced across the land, across the sea, to where the atlas had shown her. She hesitated above the island for a moment gauging the possibilities. Then suddenly she was plummeting into the jungles. This was no divination, so she could not actually see any details, only what she imagined the jungles to look like based on the dark greens and browns of the atlas. Suddenly a mine was in front of her. There was no saying if it was the right one, or if it really was a mine or not, but Saffron was tired of waiting. She drew up the power within her and stepped through the world itself.

She stepped through the Weave and out into a monsoon. She snagged a strand of loose magic on the way out and an explosion of cold air burst forth from where she was standing, instantly freezing raindrops into mini-hailstones which pounded her mercilessly.

"Ugh, Mystra you're working with Talos now to make my life violent and unpredictable? Is it too much to ask for--I don't know--a normal casting every once in a while?"

Her curses as she trudged through the rain would have made her ancestors, the Day'lasaar pirates of the Sea of Fallen Stars, proud.

Bard - ft. Orryn Raulnor

"You mean you're the third Raulnor with that name?!" the sellsword asked incredulously.

"No, no. Where I'm from that means that I'm the third oldest son." a gnome in gilded leathers replied.

"I see. Still too long for my tastes, I'm not for knowing what yer parents was for thinking, but nobody needs a name that damn long. And what about that 'sonoviches' part?"

"Well, that's a bit complicated: it roughly translates to something somewhere between 'indefatigable one who spits on witches' and 'largely punctual' ... it's a family name."

The table erupted in laughter.

Soon thereafter, the group seated around the table parted company and the gnome made his way into the street.

He wasn't nearly as drunk as his companions had been, but he only barely noticed the shapes in the alley before he'd walked into them.

Orryn licked his lips and looked over at the subtle shapes of his soon-to-be assailants.

There were perhaps eight of them now, arrayed in a semicircle around him in the darkness. He should have known better than to flaunt his gold around the tavern as he'd done. But them again, it wasn't all bad. It had been far too long since he had a chance to live a good story instead of simply tell one.

"Excuse me gentlesirs, how can I help you this fine night?" the gnomish bard, twirling a strand of his green beard around his finger in a gesture of mock-nervousness, asked the group of local toughs.

One of the larger of the group stepped forward into the alleyway and quickly botched whatever ready line he'd been prepared to say. They evidently hadn't realized the gnome has seen them before he'd spoken.

"Halt there, uh, sirrah. It looks like you've, uh, forgot to pay the toll."

"Hmm, I hadn't taken ye to be trolls, but now in the light I do see the resemblance."

The group was not particularly disciplined, most likely coming together recently at the smell of gold and lacking for a real leader. About half of them were silent and nearly shaking with anticipation. The other half were blustering fools.

"Did'ja he just call Cratch t'be a troll?" one asked.

"He is a troll!" another joked.

"Your mother's a troll." Cratch replied. "Now little one, hand over your money or you'll wish I's a troll."

"All right, all right. No need to be hasty. I'm sure you're all upstanding gents and just want to use the money to pay off your debts and buy your mothers veiled carriages. Here, take the money."

Orryn pulled at a pouch on his waist, snapping the straps, and tossed it on the ground in front of Cratch and the others. It fell open and several dozen large gold coins rolled from the sack.

The octet dived for the spilled coins and struggled with one another to snatch them up.

"Of course, this sum is just a trifle compared to what I keep at home."

The novitiate robbers looked up with various states of doubt, incomprehension, and greed. This had been the plan, but somehow it was far too easy. The smart thing to do would be to grab the gold and flee. But these were not particularly smart men, less so when blinded by the fortunes of gold held in their hands.

"Take us there."

"As you wish..." The rest of Orryn's sing-song sentence danced in the wind to distant places and forgotten ages. The eight bullies found their thoughts taken far away as the strange music lifted them up and carried them upon a journey. The true names of places are powerful things, most strange and unpronounceable, most lost to time immortal. But the bard's magic remembered them. His words were not an incantation as much as a call-and-response. His voice echoed through the world, and the world responded.

Orryn and the eight were suddenly elsewhere. A very far away elsewhere. Snow billowed through the air and covered the icy ground in heaps.

Orryn's captives reeled and screamed in terror.

"Where are we?? Curse you wizard!"

"Fear not. Everything is under control. We are in the middle of a northern glacier, where a small expedition settlement once existed. I hadn't planned on the blizzard, but I suppose you're familiar with the adage 'we take what we are given.'"

Cratch lunged at the diminutive bard, but Orryn was already in the midst of another spell. He spoke words that felt like rushing air and drifted lazily into the sky, just out of reach of the huddled mob. He extended his arms, recited the lightly tingly words that covered his body with bright red faerie fire, and then spoke with a voice that boomed through the icy plain.

"Hear me well, I am Orryn Maye Sylvester Miles Felix Hectacre Notin Jiles Bulron Sysil-Sisler Klif-Wistler Anasto'tofande Sonoviches Overton Sennison Johnnyson Raulnor the Third, Bard of Faerun, Walker of Worlds, Smiter of Evildoers and Annoying Backwater Pricks, and I. AM. NOT. A. WIZARD."

The group cowered and shivered before a spectacle of magical prowess unlike any they had ever seen or were ever likely to see again.

"And if you would give me back my coin, I would appreciate it."

A few hours later, the eight would-be robbers staggered into a tavern, each holding a single gold piece and a story.

None of them would ever rob again.

Prestidigitation

Magic Initiate Feat - Wizard - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell

"Whadd'ya mean cutof?"

"I mean, cut off. You, Mr. Harpell, are cut off. No more drinks tonight. Sit, enjoy the fire, rest. Do nothing to rouse the ire of my other patrons. Especially none of that odoriferous weed of yours!"

"Whadd'ya mean rows the ira!" Here, turning to a hooded man nursing a half-pint of dark liquor beside him. "Do I rows ya ira?!" The man turned to face him, grim faced, and in a motion dumped the glass' contents over the young man's dirty matted head of hair and set the empty glass upon the counter before the frowning bartender.

"That's a waste of good liquor, Malcom."

"Just wanted to give'im one last drink is all. I'll pay."

The bartender sighed and reluctantly poured the man another glass.

"How come 'e gets some!?"

"Go. Sit... Now."

The dripping cleric, robes which had successfully avoided the downpour now dripping with a darker rain, wobbled over to the fire and landed upon a cushion with some measure of practiced grace, or luck.

"Oh, Mal-com gets another drink. Sure." He looked to give the man an evil-eye but noticed for the first time that he was not alone. "Oh, ladies, my apprologries." He attempted to stand but finding extracting himself from his seat more difficult than anticipated, simply half-bowed to the pair of dripping maids. Straining for words, he offered, "I see you're wet! I can help you with that!"

As he struggled with gaining control of his faculties to remember the blasted name of that cantrip, the sound of broken glass from across the room cut through the lively atmosphere.

The Selune's Smile was rather crowded with weary travelers looking for rest or for revel. Twin fireplaces bookended the common area, giving a warm glow to the ancient decor. Gristly trophies bequeathed to the tavern adorned the walls: dragon scales, naga fangs, and owlbear heads among them. A few quiet tapestries hang from the rafters, heralding the ancient Lords of Waterdeep who frequented the tavern in times long since past.

It is said that every adventurer of the Sword Coast eventually finds her way to the City of Splendors, but rarely do so many of them come to a particular tavern all at once.

Seated across from the most recent blackfish of the Harpell family, sat a pair of ladies wearing drenched leathers and scowls.

Harvey seemed not to notice the latter as he inventoried his magical repertoire.

Prefeguritat?

Pregnanitato?

Presdogranado?

No. That'd jus worse.

The room grew instantly silent at the spilling glass and subsequent trading of blows.

No, youse keep talkin, gotta thing. he silently berated the floor.

Prestangerition?

One of the combatants fell to the floor and then laboriously dragged himself back up and slumped into a nearby chair. Harvey thought he heard one of the two women, the shorter one, say something, "Need some... mumble mumble Moose?"

Moose?

His mind joined his liver, slowly churning through the facts of the day.

/Animal. Forest. Green. She's kinda greenish. I wonder if she's from a forest? Ew, she's probaly dirty if she came from a forest. Eh, nothin a little Prestidigitation couldn't fix./

...

"Prestidigitation!" He shouted over the now-returned din. Magic leapt from his fingers, but not exactly with the effect he had originally intended. Reminded of the magical pranks from his childhood, his most common retaliatory strike was that of the "foul wind." This came unbidden to him now, and the magic unleashed the foul smelling breeze from his fingertips.

Cure Wounds

Bard

Cleric - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell

The minor scuffle in the tavern had turned to outright chaos. Harvey struggled to look unassuming beside the fireplace. The two furious women had stomped off for some reason and then suddenly returned, except... one of them had a thick moose pelt thrown up over her arm like a shield and had grappled away a sword from an unfortunate fellow behind her, and...

Oh no, now there were three of them. The wet woman, the moose woman, and a new woman... who could probably lift a moose. And despite his best efforts, his "gusts" had spread to even the outer tables. People were taking notice. Through it all, came the deep contralto of what he could only assume was a giantess, standing now, teeth clenched and nearly trembling with rage.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Even drunk, even stupid, there was no mistaking that tone.

Stumbling with words, with mental images, and especially the literal stumbling involved when attempting to slink backwards from fear of a large angry Goliath woman, at first Harvey could do little more than whimper.

Stopping just short of the fire, it's tongues licking the edges of his trailing sleeves, he composed himself as well as he could in the face of possible crushing death, closed his eyes, and sputtered "Excuse my casting m'lady. My name is Harvey Hoban Harpell, 'eric'a Eldath. I only meant to help." Then peeking carefully from one eye he added, "Please don' crush me."

He was inadvertently saved by another man. The drunken merchant lost his footing as he approached the bar for another bottle of stsass and stumbled into the goliath maid's firm buttocks. He might as well have walked into a wall for all the good it did him. Actually, he most certainly would have preferred to walk into a wall, as walls don't seize you by the collar, hoist you over their heads and fling you at their true sources of rage.

Layers of fat flapped in the wind, terrified by their unnatural acceleration. Equally terrified, the eye Harvey had dared to open flinched shut. He could hear the sounds of the fireplace mantle above him abruptly stopping the man-boulder's flight. And a moment later he could feel the crushing weight of the man-boulder's fall, the hard coolness of the wooden floor against his face, and the uncomfortable warmth and wetness of a terrified unconscious man letting go after a long night of drinking.

In that moment, he felt that the only proper thing to do was to join him.

Minutes passed and Harvey was more than satisfied with resting stupidly beneath his boulderous brother, surrounded by the incontinent smells and the tumultuous clatter of battle... wait. Battle?

Oh no. What have I done?

Harvey tried to stand, to lift his face from the hard pearwood floorboards, to see what was going on. Red blood splattered down beside his cheek. It was warm and fresh. He managed to lift his shoulders and turn. A bloody maw lolled above him, the jaw obviously broken, tongue bit, nearly severed. Bruising was already beginning to settle in between the voluminous folds of fat around the face and neck -- black and blue and red.

Suddenly what was the proper thing moments ago seemed foolish. This whole night seemed foolish. Eldath, what have I done? This man is hurt because of me. I started a brawl. I'm not worthy of serving you.

In Harvey's frantic heart, beside the furious pounding and self-pity, came a shiver. It raced along his chest, along his limbs, his spine a roadway, his bumbling extremities the destination. A familiar sense of peace, contentment, and quiet perfection, washed over him like a gentle flowing stream. The sensation reached his head, starting from the base of the skull and rushing forward to envelop him, to hold him, to wrap him tightly in a warm stillness. All was silent.

And yet from in that perfect silence, Harvey could almost hear a quiet voice, a whisper of a whisper upon the wind breathe to him.

I know...

The silence abated and the bustling lights and sounds of the taverns returned.

Thank you, m'Lady. Harvey mouthed deferentially. Then squeezing a hand beneath his torso and the floor and taking up his holy symbol from around his neck, he gently turned his body into a sitting position against the wall, the large man laying across his lap, and allowed the Peace of Eldath to flow through him and into the man.

He spoke words, though he knew them not, and the symbol of the rushing waterfall and the still pool gleamed with a quiet silver and blue light. The unconscious man's wounds were bathed in the light, and his clotting blood staunched, his bruises soothed, his avulsed tongue knit together, and jaw gently returned to place. He opened his eyes, wonderstruck, then promptly grimaced at the smell in the air and in his trousers.

"Oh, right!" Harvey waved away the effect of the cantrip and helped the man to his feet.

Druid

Paladin - ft.

Ranger

Power Word Kill

Wizard

Warlock

The Fugue

The orcs pulled you down.

They beat you. You could feel the blood in your mouth, and leaking beneath your skin. You could feel their clubs break you. You felt your spine snap, one, two, three places. Frantic, try to focus on the spells your patron left you. But you know there is nothing there. So you flex the fingers on your right hand, where your brand is--the deep, red burn which you know will never heal. You feel the bitter the connection to Nine Hells, in some ways it feels like a fishing line pulling you back there, and in other it just feels like a part of your body, like a gland. Pulling on the connection feels like crying, but tears of sulfur and of smoke. Soon hot, sticky, bruised-looking energy responds to your call and leaks from the brand like pus. An orc stands over you, a battleaxe held high above his head, and you fling it at him with a roar of defiance. He takes it full in the face and his brain explodes out the back of his head.

But he wasn't the only orc, and the hits keep coming, You know that you are going to die.

Soon the blows stop hurting. The world stops spinning and everything is very very quiet.

...

You don't open your eyes. There's no moment of focusing, blurred vision, bright light. You just see. You just are.

You're standing on a desolate plain. The sky is a dull shade of dark gray, the same color as the thick dirt which covers the ground like dusty snow. You can see ahead for hundreds of miles, but it doesn't seem to strike you as odd.

You aren't alone.

Others, mostly humans, but a half-orc here, a half-elf there, move through the dirt, knocking up clouds of dust in their wakes. They move so slowly.

You are standing.

You look down at your hand, there is no brand. You flex the fingers, but there is no burning sensation. In fact, there's barely any sensation at all. It doesn't seem to strike you as odd.

As you turn the hand over to put it back at your side, you notice that where the brand was, on the back is a small red patch of dried ink. Perhaps some rune or letter? It doesn't seem important.

You drop the arm to your side, slowly, quietly, and begin to walk.

Nearby is a small hill. Several men and women are gathered on it. They seem to be singing.

A light opens above them and a creature with wings of fire and a shield emblazoned with the symbol of an upright gauntlet appears. With a circular motion of his arm and a smile, the light becomes a whirlwind and the faithful are lifted up into the shining gateway and disappear in an anti-climactic non-flash of light. For as suddenly as the herald appeared, he is gone and the plain is returned to stoic grayness. You notice that even the hill is gone. But it doesn't seem important.

You spot a woman along your path, old, wrinkled, dirty, as grey as the dust and sky. She is sobbing softly, clutching at her knees. She wears the low-cut rags of a Luskan whore. Her eyes grow wide with fear as you approach. But you hear a voice call out "do not be afraid." Your eyes follow the voice, to a woman standing nearby. She radiates beauty. Calling her beautiful is like calling the sky overcast. It is like calling the air stale or the dirt dirty. She reaches out a hand to the woman, her long red hair flowing in a wind that isn't there. The old woman bounds to her feet. She falls, but stands and tries again, every step growing stronger until she grasps the hand of her goddess and is clothed in the beauty and vitality of her youth. She cries with joy, collapsing into the breast of the goddess, and the pair step through the planes together leaving behind the scent of strawberries and freshly cut grass.

The scent dissipates quickly and you continue walking.

You see others wandering aimlessly like yourself.

You all seem to be walking in the same direction.

In the distance is a circle of lights around an impossibly thin silver line disappearing into the sky.

Your approach takes many hours, perhaps days or months or years, but eventually the lights become a city. A huge city. The walls rise over a mile high, and moan softly, though you can't tell how or why.

From a large gate, hooded figures approach the aimless walkers, including yourself. One stops before you and removes her hood with a look of vague, forced, curiosity. She isn't exactly human, she has scales across her face and bright yellow eyes which are difficult to follow.

She speaks, but the words are distant, muffled, "Guarded Faithless or Bargained Soul?"

A deep, resonating, but scratchy voice answers from somewhere behind and above you.

"The first. Perhaps next time... the second."

After a moment of consideration she nods deferentially, raises her hood, and turns towards the city, ushering you forward.

The walls continue to grow as you get closer. They must be ten miles high. This city must house millions. Around you is a crowd, closely packed among each other, though most give you a wide berth. Now devils mingle among the humans, whispering, promising. They lead away many.

As you approach the wall, the whimpering grows louder. The wall has faces. Bodies are stuck together with rotting mortar, which dissolves them like a giant stomach.

Suddenly jagged rifts open beside and before you, along the wall. Creatures with the faces and tusks of pigs, but the bodies of great apes rush through, crushing or tossing aside both wandering Faithless and cloaked guides.

Horns blare clearly through the otherwise muted scene of violence.

The guides throw aside their cloaks and brandish sickles and shields. Devils howl war cries and abandon their bargaining to do battle with their hated foes.

The demons flow through the rifts in a great horde and begin to tear at the wall, dragging huge chunks back through with them into the Abyss. Some moaning souls cry out as many are ripped asunder, torn from a slow non-existence of centuries to one of instants. The rest disappear into the Abyss, their forms already being twisted into those of the demons that abducted them.

A giant six-armed demon with fangs like a viper rushes at you. You raise your hand to call down fire upon it, but you have no power on which to call.

A bony whip-like barbed tail shoots out from behind you, striking the creature and sending it writhing to the ground. A massive bone devil steps over you, it's skeletal spider-like limbs moving to propel it impossibly fast through the slow-motion battlefield. It hefts a greatclub that was probably once the femurs of one of those huge pig-ape-devils and smashes the six-armed serpent into a blackish pulp. The blood splashes up into your face, leaving a line of acidic muck running down your nose, between your eyes.

Then the fighting stops as suddenly as it started. An angel, clad in flames the color of the sky shuts the portals with a pointed word and outstretched finger and surveys the damage to the wall before flying off towards the great spire of Kelemvor, the god of the dead.

The bone devil turns and looks you over. "It is time. The vessel has arrived." He then leaves you and cuts a thin line in the air with his tail. He steps through it and disappears, leaving behind the familiar scent of sulfur and brimstone. You hear the distant sound of a faint chime. It's probably not important.

You open your eyes. There's a moment of focusing, blurred vision, and bright light. You take a breath and feel the cold morning air fill your lungs. A horned tiefling with a pitch black bell and a scroll is standing over you. Your whole body burns, but especially your hand and a strip running from your forehead down between your eyes.

Everything is blurry, especially your memory. Standing around you are your adventuring companions. It feels like you just saw them moments ago? Was there a battle? What's going on? You can't remember anything... it's all just indistinct and gray.

Faust and the Fugue Plane -Andrew Murrell

Tastavi D'Maelnor of Llolethane

2016-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

+When I DM, I try to allow players to have as many options for character creation as I can. Usually, this manifests in pretty interesting, but stable, characters. And other times… you get Tastavi. +

+Tastavi D'Maelnor of Lolathane-Mael'na'rath is not what I'd call a stable character: a CN half-(drow)-elf half-(black)-dragon ftr/rog/war hybrid sworn to an evil demigod who wants to swallow your dreams (and possibly the sun and all life) and fleeing one hell of a custody dispute. +

+But I fell in love with the idea. I had to write it up. It started out as a three paragraph synopsis, but quickly devolved into the micro-epic below. He was only played for three sessions before dying to the most viscious and demanding opponent of all: sports season. Enjoy! +

+Table of Contents +

+1. Ik'lithslaelith +
+2. The Drowess +
+3. The Tunnel +
+4. High Priestess Destiny +
+5. Soup for Dinner +
+6. Hunger and Possibilities +
+7. [CENSORED] +
+8. Visions +
+9. Visitations +
+10. Voices +
+11. jal'Bror-noloth +
+12. The Hold +
+13. The Pits +
+14. The Return +
+15. Tastavi +
+16. Trials +
+17. Transformations +
+18. Training +
+19. The Leader +
+20. The Contest +
+21. The Cell +
+22. Motherly Love +
+23. The Will of Lolth +
+24. Doom +
+25. Destruction +
+26. Dreams +
+27. The Surface +
+28. Credits +

+1 Ik'lithslaelith +

+A dark form slithered though the deep, black against black in the sunless place. The form pulled its girth across the smooth stone of its cavern, uncoiling itself and scraping eons of accumulated filth from its obsidian hide. Too long had it slumbered here, content with its wealth and glories of days long past. A yellow eye appeared inside the chamber, burning with a delicate and powerful inner light. +

+The dragon Ik'lithslaelith was awake. And he was hungry. +

+2 The Drowess +

+She walked nude across the parapet. Her onyx skin still glistened from her bath and her long white hair hung loose about her shoulders. She eyed the servants gathered along the tower's edge, daring them to look. +

+Most simply bowed humbly before her, inches from oblivion, knowing full well the punishment. She reached the stair and snatched a loose-fitting robe from the extended hand of her favorite butler. His empty and scarred eye sockets heaved involuntarily at her proximity. It has been too long since she'd had a real excuse to user her power. Too long. +

+3 The Tunnel +

+This was not here when last I was. mused the dragon. +

+He peered at the worked stone. Beneath his lair, along one of his favorite underground flying paths, a circular tunnel disappeared into the cliff face. Below him, the chasm loomed, threatening to consume any that strayed too far from the path's narrow ledge–and could not fly–to be burned to fiery cinders upon a lake of boiling stone below. +

+He had always found the cavern poetic: no matter how hard the little climbers tried to rise, this was not their place. Their place was among the ashes. +

+The newly hewn tunnel was far too small for him to squeeze into of course. But one does not reach advanced age as a dragon without learning a few tricks along the way. +

+And one does not keep it by being over-curious either he thought to himself. +

+But I suppose it cannot be helped. +

+Ik'lithslaelith breathed a deep echoing sigh, closed his eyes, and began to shrink. +

+4 High Priestess Destiny +

+The family estate was vast, and by all accounts, grand. Nestled in a isolated corner of the massive complex of linked caves that comprised the southern drow 'city' of Mael'na'rath, the layered structure resembled a spiked claw rising from on oozing wound. +

+Grand, but hideous. +

+Grotesquely complicated, but functional. +

+In a word: Chaotic. +

+From the single gate at the base of the claw to the tips of the fingers, every staircase was a spiral. Most with an open center so that the priestesses and noble family could levitate from floor to floor, but commoners or household slaves would have to climb the steep steps to get anywhere, and so guards could fire upon intruders the entire way up. Intruders who, would first need to bypass the acid pools which surrounded the fortress. +

+High Priestess Ul'Ilindith D'Maelnor of the Second House of Llolethane-Mael'na'rath decended through the main stair upon a cloud of authority. Any walking the stairs prostrated themselves before her, and any family members floating up quickly stepped aside and bowed as she passed. Her name meant "destiny" and she knew it. She reached the floor she wanted and halted her descent. It was almost time. She was expecting someone. +

+5 Soup for Dinner +

+From the darkness, expectant eyes scanned the palace walls. The acidic no-man's land glowed an eerie green from the pools which dotted the cavern floor. But the eyes were not concerned with the defenses. Instead they clutched at one distant parapet and waited. Minutes passed, but there was no activity from the palace. The eyes closed. Impatiently, a dark form slid from its hiding place in the mouth of the abandoned tunnel to nowhere, and approached the nearest pool of acid. The bubbling glow cast flickering splotches of light over its distinctly feminine form, and she bent over the pool, moving one hand in intricate spellcasting and clutching something hanging from around her neck with the other. She felt at ease with it near her, a rare feeling for a drow, but she had been experiencing all kinds of rare feelings recently. Her divination spell failed, as they were oft to do since she had fallen in love. Terrified of her own feelings, she knelt in fervent prayer to the Spider Queen. +

+Behind her from the tunnel, another dark figure crept close, unnoticed, a silent hand of death in the land of silent death. +

+Perhaps her prayers were answered, or perhaps the Queen of Spiders simply thought it amusing, but with a gasp and a rush of power, the beautiful drow woman felt the impending danger. She spun around, calling upon years of training and the will of her goddess to meet the threat. A whip appeared in her hands almost instantly, its twin heads, each a living snake, hissed and spat. Smiling coolly, she struck out against her assailant, the snake heads reaching, mouths wide to bite deep into its flesh. A loud crack and hiss echoed through the chamber, but when she pulled back the whip for another strike, both heads lay limp and dead in her hands. A scaled form, black as onyx, stood before her wearing only a billowing cloak and a practiced look of grim amusement. The fangs had only barely scratched the surface of his scales, and though sticky splotches of thick acidic pus covered the point of impact, he seemed entirely unconcerned. +

+He responded in kind, spitting a line of black acid into her eyes and face. She reeled backwards, clutching at her dissolving eyes, and fell backwards into the bubbling pool. +

+The form approached the shallow pool. +

+"Looks like I'm having soup for dinner" mused Ik'lithslaelith. +

+6 Hunger and Possibilities +

+She couldn't believe it! A dragon! And a powerful one from the looks of it. High Priestess Ul'Ilindith smiled coolly from her invisible floating vantage point, and watched him feast. Though the 'opportunities' she had been pursuing with the High Priestess of House Undros were most definitely ended, perhaps even greater power than simply controlling a minor house was in her reach. She nearly shook with excitement at the thought of an ancient black dragon raining death upon her enemies. But as always, she was to be careful in this. A dragon, even a male dragon, was dangerous and difficult to control. She mused for a moment on the dangers, she could see them clearly before her even, the fate in store if she made a wrong move, or if he still hungered. But the possibilities… +

+And perhaps, she mused, he hungered for drow in a way that could benefit them both… +

+7 [CENSORED] +

+8 Visions +

+She saw a city burning. +

+She saw people screaming in pain and rolling upon the ground, trying to wipe away the tar that ate at their fingers, at their faces. +

+She saw clerics casting frantic spells, only to have them fail in their time of greatest need, abandoned by their goddess, and likewise be consumed. +

+She saw her son. +

+Standing in the midst of it, unharmed, and smiling, wiping blood from his blades. When the fires died, his yellow eyes were all that remained in the darkness. +

+The vision departed and the brazier bore once again the droopy-eyed oozing visage of a Handmaiden of Lolth. The priestess bowed and the messenger disappeared into the flames of the Demonweb Pits. +

+She looked down upon her pregnant belly. He would become her weapon. It was the will of Lolth. +

+9 Visitations +

+Ik'lithslaelith +

+The name woke him from his renewed slumber. He lay upon his newly-heaped hordes of gold and pools of melted bones. The echo of the name roared in his mind like a tempest. Like a wildfire. Like the roar of ten thousand dragons. +

+The ancient Ik'lithslaelith, the proud Ik'lithslaelith, the noble Ik'lithslaelith, the silent hand of death in the merciless Underdark, Winnower of Worlds, and many more names long forgotten, cowered in fear before his goddess. +

+10 Voices +

+An ancient laughter hissed in the Abyss. +

+The night is filled with voicess, so it seemss. +

+She mused. +

+Time stretched out naked, and the darkness prophesied: +

+Two minds. +

+Two goddesses +

+of mixed intent +

+and muddled vows. +

+Scheming over one +

+neither shall have. +

+The Nightmare smiled. +

+For even gods must sleep. +

+And neither see the +

+choices made when +

+nightmares reign. +

+Or hear the calls +

+of the forgotten +

+or the bound. +

+Dendar smiled at the ironic cost of freedom. +

+11 jal'Bror-noloth +

+The pregnancy was a wicked affair. Any news of it among the common folk was quickly discredited, and to speak of it openly, even among the family, was dangerous. Lady Ul'Ilindith spent her days under the care of her most trusted subordinates in the priestesshood: the ones with no ambition to speak of, whom she ruled with fear. She craved meat, and so she feasted upon the flesh of exotic animals, taken from both deep within the Underdark and from far above it, scoured from the surface. Every day, the burden in her belly grew more intense, the child growing much larger than any drow child. Every night the pain in her abdomen became almost unbearable. But she bore it. She bore it to term by force of will and the whispers of Lolth, promising her power beyond her wildest imaginings. +

+Her time arrived quickly and with little warning. Appropriating a hidden chamber deep beneath the complex–aptly, one often used for summoning creatures from lower planes, and shielded against unwanted magical intrusion–Ul'Ilindith labored for six days and nights. Every second, the unborn child tore at her. She used up every spell of healing from every priestess within the complex and more besides, calling upon the aid of magical items and elixirs to keep the child from tearing her apart. And the pain only heightened her determination. +

+When the child was finally born, it was amid a spray of blood. The child poured forth wrapped in stinking muck, an acidic darkness that mirrored the hearts of its parents. His parents. Even with all of her powers of healing, it was weeks before Ul'Ilindith recovered. She named the boy jal'Bror-noloth, the Sudden All-Encompassing Darkness, and kept him hidden from the world. +

+12 The Hold +

+A sudden rush of fresh air and the sounds of grinding stone attracted a small huddled group of kobolds to the cavern entrance. Large eyes, well-adjusted to the darkness, peered towards the unblocked hatchway and waited. From the other side of the hole in the cavern ceiling red and purple faerie fire cast an eerie glow into the chamber. Usually, if someone had rolled away the blocking stone and ventured into the cavern, the kobolds would know if it, but these were dark elves, in their domain, and fully prepared for stealth. All the kobolds saw was a vague hint of motion and the sudden glint of steel at their throats. +

+They prostrated themselves before their cruel masters and whimpered despite their better sense. Or rather all but one of them whimpered. A young female, untested, but strong, remained unbowed. This was her first encounter with the dark elves, and through either willpower or through ignorance she stood and stared into the eyes of the drow soldier that held her captive, brandishing a knife and scowling at the ambush. +

+The soldier's face became a mask of rage. She was ibluth, a worthless slave, a worthless kobold. He had certainly killed avenging lesser slights. He moved quickly and knocked away her blade, pressing his own in the space between her legs, preparing to cut her from stem to stern, but a commanding voice held him at bay. From behind, a weathered face, drained, but dangerous and beautiful, approached the soldier and the kobold maiden. She carried a small bundle in her arms, breastfeeding. +

+She stared down at the scaled creature, regarding her cooly. Then she carefully lifted the baby from her breast. He began to cry. +

+"You. Raise this iblith." +

+She roughly handed the child to the now-wide-eyed kobold and stalked away, the rest of her guard following her. +

+The boulder ground back into place and the cavern returned to darkness… but not silence. +

+The sound of a baby's cry echoed through the halls. +

+13 The Pits +

+The smack of sweaty flesh upon hard rock, and the crack of breaking bones, and shattered maws, and the echoing bloodthirsty cheer brought kobolds from all parts of the hold to witness the spectacle in the pits. A pair of fighters were sprawled upon the ground, clubbing and beating on each other with their claws or hands or whatever tools were available. It was over quickly, the opening salvo of the contest. The winner was cheered, the loser tossed aside to make way for the next fight. This was the way of kobolds: fast brutal victory or slow agonizing defeat. +

+A large kobold, round, his puffy skin bulging from around his scales like fishnet tights, sat atop a large boulder overlooking the pit. He called out for the next pair to enter the pit. Cheers erupted at the first volunteer, a tall specimen, muscular, and well-endowed. His reddish scales flickered brutally in the dim torchlight. He stood proudly waving a spear to the adoring crowd, so he did not note his challenger until the cheers turned to anxious whispers. A small boy stood squarely in the center of the ring, head downcast. Few could say the moment that he had arrived, but none could deny his presence now, nor what it signified. The challenge had been issued. The boy's scales contrasted greatly with the proud fighter that stood before him. Where the champion's scales gleamed in the torchlight, the boy's seemed to swallow it completely. Black. As the darkest night or deepest cave. +

+From the crowd, an adopted mother gasped as she saw her son standing in the ring and not at her side. It was no secret that she had been commissioned to raise the boy by the drow themselves, and the sudden silence in the stands all but confirmed it. None knew for sure which would win out, their customs: the right of challenge in the pits, or their fear of the drow should anything happen to the boy. +

+Their internal war was ended by the sudden motion of the challenger. He lifted his spear and lunged at the champion. The strike was short, but the damage was done, the fight had already begun. The champion returned the strike, only to have his spear deftly deflected as it came down. The young half-dragon took this opportunity to charge at the kobold before him, getting within the range of the spear and clawing at the hands holding the weapon. Long thick lines of blood appeared on the champion's forearms and he released the weapon in order to block the continued onslaught and return the favor. He led with a left hook that connected right under the boy's eye and sent him sprawling backwards, and quickly followed it with a kick to the boy's side, right beneath the shoulder-blade. The youth hit the ground and dove into a roll to come back to his feat. He had no more completed it, when another powerful kick knocked him back again, this time against the cavern wall. More punches followed and the boy fell back again and again against the wall and the floor, for support. His eyes were swollen, his hands and knees bloody, his body aching from the thrashing, but he did not signal his surrender. Instead he peered into the champion's eyes with determination and smiled, a bloody broken thing amid a silent crowd. The champion shook his head, but stalked in one more time to finish it. +

+He never got a chance. +

+The only sound that could be heard for miles was his scream. Not a person gathered breathed, nor heart beat for several moments, as their champion writhed pitifully upon the ground clutching the wreck that was once his face. Acid melted down into his skull and soon he could no longer draw the breath to scream and just shivered upon the ground. +

+Jal'Bror'Noloth wiped the spittle from his mouth and looked up to regard the assembled, but from his vantage point, could see but one, the puffy chieftain upon the rock, as all bowed down to worship the dragon-blessed. +

+14 The Return +

+The hatchway was open and once again, the proud kobold mother stood before dark elves. Though this time, she did not stand alone. Her adopted son, nearly her height, stood, hands balled into fists, at her side. He glanced protectively from his mother and the kobolds cowering on the ground to the strange dark-skinned woman standing before him, who began to speak. She spoke slowly, as if to a very young child, and with an unfamiliar and decadent accent. +

+"You appear to have raised him well. Does he speak Undercommon?" +

+"Aks him yerself." his mother spat back. +

+The drow priestess held out a hand to halt one of her guards who had stepped out of the darkness brandishing a knife. He stopped with a quizzical look, and slipping his dagger back into his piwafwi cloak, disappeared again. +

+"Do you know your name, little one?" +

+The boy looked to her suspiciously, but answered proudly "The others call me Nightshade." +

+She smiled coolly. +

+"A fitting name I'm sure, but a child's name, a disguise at best." She stalked closer to the boy, peering deeply into his eyes, and reached out with a hand to trace the pattern of his scales. +

+His mother attempted to interpose herself, to shield her child from the foreign touch, but instead found herself frozen in place mid-step. Wide-eyed she tried to cry out, but found no words. The paralyzing poison of the trio of small darts protruding from her back, neck, and leg had done its task. +

+"I see it in your eyes little Nightshade. This place has made you a killer, as I knew it would, but you shall become so much more. Follow me, and rise to conquer nations! And you shall earn your true name! Jal'Bror'Noloth!" +

+Jal stood dumbfounded at the revelation. He looked to the ground. Silence fell upon the empty chamber and all eyes upon the young half-dragon. He closed his eyes. Though he could almost feel a thousand heartbeats all around him, the one in his chest was the faintest. Here among the kobolds, he was revered, some kind of god to the dragon-loving fanatics. Could the same be true of wherever this woman would take him? +

+No, he decided, his place was in the caverns. And he didn't like this stranger and her band. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. +

+"I already have a mother." he stated flatly. "I have no need for another one, nor your names for me." +

+Ul'Ilindith smiled, unperturbed by his response. She leaned down to his ear and whispered "You do indeed already have a mother. But soon, you'll have a goddess." +

+A hundred drow warriors appeared from the shadows, blades spinning. Kobold blood splattered the ceilings, the floors, it splattered the pair standing undisturbed in the midst of it. Jal found he could not move his body, he could not open his mouth again to send acid into the faces of the attackers. +

+It was over quickly. The cowering kobolds were all dead, cut into morbid ribbons that covered the walls and floors. As were all the kobolds that stayed in the darkness and thought themselves safe from the spectacle. Any that saw the return of the drow or the fate of their beloved dragon-blessed were left to feed whatever monsters that would inevitably take up residence in the food-rich cavern. The Underdark is not a place of wastefulness. +

+Jal watched as the only other survivor, his adopted mother, was put into chains and levitated up through the drow hatchway. Still groggy from the poison, he barely noticed when his own fetters were locked into place. Ul'Ilindith leaned over his shoulder and whispered once again, +

+"You shall know your destiny my little iblith. And you shall know the futility of defying me." +

+15 Tastavi +

+The aging Master of Arms, Elderboy Tastadraa D'Maelnor, looked over the boy's head to his sister Ul'Ilindith. +

+"This? This is the one you bring to me?" +

+The boy appeared unremarkable in every way. Average height, build, skin tone, hair style, musculature, almost a mockery of normalcy. +

+"He is." +

+"I take it then, he is some prodigy with a blade?" +

+"I doubt he's ever touched one." +

+Tastadraa sighed and slicked back his receding hairline. Despite his position in the family, one can never take a demand from a High Priestess lightly. He nodded his head, +

+"I will train him…" +

+"Very good." +

+Ul'Ilindith turned to leave. +

+"…assuming he passes the trials of course." +

+Ul'Ilindith stopped. Slowly turning around, venom oozing from her gaze, she asked +

+"Trials?" +

+"Just a formality I assure you, since he does not appear to be of… noble birth. I shall train him if he proves himself superior to my most recent student." +

+Ul'Ilindith smiled. She looked across the room to the gangly youth attempting to lift a glave twice his size and nearly chopping himself in twain as the weapon fell to the ground with a clatter–her sister's son would prove no challenge. +

+"All right. He shall fight then." +

+But to her surprise the weapon master called out, "Tastavi! Come hither." +

+From behind a weapons rack, a lithe youth looked up and walked over. His gait was one of practiced grace and noble refinement. +

+"This is my son Tastavi, he came of age just yesterday to start training with the group. Tastavi, you will be fighting this one to determine if he is fit to train against you." +

+Tastavi glanced at the new boy and smirked. +

+16 Trials +

+Both fighters panted for breath. They dripped with sweat. From opposite sides of the perfect circle drawn upon the floor, they stared into each other's eyes, waiting. Tastavi licked blood from his battered lip. +

+He had expected to finish the match quickly. He held his sword delicately but firmly, gently gliding it into thrusts and parries, as opposed to this stranger who held his sword like a club, and used it like one. But he quickly discovered that what the newcomer lacked in technique he made up for with ferocity. He looked so small and unspectacular, but possessed the raw strength of someone much larger, and the split-second reflexes of a master. The force and savage speed of his swings was jolting. Tastavi was able to stay ahead of each of them, but barely. +

+Tastavi had then moved to the center of the ring, expending as little effort as he could, dodging as much as deflecting, to tire out his opponent. Eventually the frustrated and slowing newcomer simply started swinging out as a distraction and using his body to push Tastavi towards the edge of the ring. Several times only his training in gymnastics had kept him from being bowled over out of the ring, and the last rush had been the closest yet. +

+Tastavi had to adjust, and began to counter the charges with precise blade thrusts, forcing his aggressor back, but took a few flying elbows to the face while perfecting it. +

+Now mutual respect and more than a little exhaustion had the pair circling. Almost an hour had passed, with neither side backing down. His father, the Weapon's Master, stood by the wayside trying to look disinterested to Ul'Ilindith, while nonetheless remaining intent on every second of the fighting. The other students held no such reservation and watched the display with open wonder. +

+As the two dragged themselves around they ring they knew that whatever happened here, it would be the last clash between the two. Tastavi hefted his blade and focused on his breathing and his feet, on his years of training with his father, and on his enemy: nearly collapsed on the ground, hands clenched upon the hilt of his broadsword, knuckles as white as the hair upon his head. +

+And suddenly upon him. +

+Tastavi stepped to the side, barely avoiding the downwards strike and stabbed out, piercing flesh and striking against bone. The newcomer fell past him landing with a dull thud against the floor, jutting out halfway from the ring and retching in pain. His blood bubbled from the wound on his side. Tastavi heard a strange sizzling sound and looked to his blade, the blood was slowly eating away the metal! +

+The crowd cheered, but Master Tastadraa silenced them with a harsh reprimand and they reluctantly began to disperse. Tastavi nearly collapsed, but held his feat and his honor. Then nearly collapsed again as Ul'Ilindith surprised him by personally moving forward to tend to the boy. Tastavi found himself dumbfounded before Ul'Ilindith, who reached down and touched the boy, instantly healing him and vaporizing the bubbling blood before it burned into the ground. +

+The conversation between his aunt and father echoed far away. +

+"I shall teach him." +

+"But, didn't he lose your little challenge?" +

+"I shall teach him." +

+The tip of his blade fell to the ground with a loud clatter as the acid ate cleanly through the steel. +

+17 Transformations +

+He awoke to a Sending message in his mind. +

+Jal, it is time to train with Master Tastadraa. +

+Yes Mother. he replied. +

+Jal lay upon a thin bisected cot, the center of which was cut away so that he could lay on his back without the ridge on his spine cutting at the fabric. +

+He looked to the three other belongings his mother allowed him: a pair of clothes for training at blades and bows, a small key, and a thin mask of white velvet. +

+He reached for the key, but changed his mind at the last second and went for the mask instead. +

+He carefully set it place upon his face and grimaced beneath it as its magic began subtly changing him. He shrank, his thick arms and legs shriveling into the spindly appendages of the drow. The ridges on his spine disappearing into his back. His hair remained roughly the same, resulting in an almost comical effect if anyone were watching. However, if anyone were watching, they would almost certainly be dead by now. His room was one of the best guarded places in the complex. +

+He left his chamber fully drow–there was no illusion, his entire body was changed–and made for the training complex. +

+18 Training +

+Tastadraa leaned against a trident and watched Jal and Tastavi spar. He marveled at the progress they made in such short time. Given years, these two would surely become the best fighters in House D'Maelnor, if not the best fighters in Llolethane-Mael'na'rath. But which would predominate? +

+Tastavi represented perfection in discipline and form. He learned every technique: line, parry, block, feint, it didn't matter, after a few repetitions he would master them, and he followed orders to the very punctuation. +

+Jal on the other hand, represented pure natural talent and improvisation. He could find his way in any situation with no preparation whatsoever. He always tested his opponents, challenging their careful techniques and reactions, throwing them into unpredictable patterns and unfamiliar lines. He was dangerous and cared nothing for orders. +

+Only time would tell. +

+19 The Leader +

+Flames billowed into the sky. +

+The sky. +

+Bright and blue, horrid and happy. +

+Ul'Ilindith shuddered. +

+"Why do you show me this?" +

+A caped rogue peered from the crystal ball to the priestess. +

+"We all serve the Queen according to her will." +

+He motioned for her to continue watching the silent scene unfold below in the glassy sphere. The sky came into view once again and then shifted to a quiet village in the middle of a great yellow plain. +

+From the south a sweeping army of darkness crept upon the unsuspecting village, at its head an imposing warrior. Arrayed in thick armor, not much could be seen of his face, or much beyond the massive broadsword he carried upon his back. With an unheard bellow he hefted the sword with two hands and led the the charging army to battle. +

+A charge that faded from her view as the scene changed subtly. Suddenly the army was on the road, traveling by the new moon. Then they were at the gates of a great city, then inside it, slaying indiscriminately. Then there was a throne, obsidian and bearing the mark of the Spider Queen, and an ancient drow upon it, casting traitors into the flames. +

+Ul'Ilindith struggled with the vision. +

+"We shall take to the surface? An army?" +

+"Not we, but see the mark upon the leader?" +

+"D'Maelnor!" +

+"Yes, he carries your crest. And another, of the first house." +

+Ul'Ilindith smiled. "Then it's true, the union shall take place?" +

+"Yes, but keep in mind" said the rogue, "there is but one leader prophesied… not two." +

+20 The Contest +

+Tastavi held his bow carefully and exhaling suddenly, sent a perfect shot into the deep-rothe's eye. +

+"Twenty-three" Jal sighed dramatically, his face emotionless. +

+"If you hadn't wasted your shot on the bull you would be tied with me. Next time." Tastavi patted Jal on the shoulder mockingly. +

+"I've got one shot left." Jal pulled the arrow from his dimensional bag. +

+"Even if you somehow managed to kill two of them with that, you'd only match me." Tastavi gave him a superior look and started packing his things. +

+Jal stared out across the cavern floor at the grazing rothe. Slowly a half-smile spread across his face. +

+"I've got one shot left." he reiterated. +

+Tastavi stopped and just watched. He knew that look well enough after all. It usually preceded something worth watching. +

+Jal lifted his bow, nocked the arrow and held out his hand encasing a rothe in purple flames. +

+Tastavi gave him a disapproving look, "Now that's cheating!" +

+"No, that's not the target, watch." Jal replied. +

+At first the rothe seemed not to notice, and Jal lifted three fingers. +

+Two fingers. +

+One. +

+The rothe looked up and seeing the illusory flames encasing it, began to panic. It let out a mooish-roar and bolted for the water. +

+It would have made it too, except for the very agitated bull rothe standing directly in its path with an arrow protruding from its hindquarters. The bull had almost come to accept the nagging itch in its backside, but being bowled over by a frantic, and apparently burning, female on her way to the water was not a good way to arrive at acceptance. +

+He reared up and charged, looking to gore anything in its path. A couple of plump females stood nearby and he charged at them blindly. They looked up in time to see the horns, and bolted to the side. +

+Jal fired. +

+His arrow whisked past the enraged bull, peeling flesh from his face and changing his course to plow, horns-first into the escaping females, skewering both of them before himself, crumpling to the ground. +

+"Ok, well that's just Twenty-three then. We're tied." Tastavi managed to stammer. But Jal turned to him and smiled. +

+"Look again." +

+Tastavi traced the arrow's flight from where it had been deflected… into the water. The startled rothe, no longer in faerie fire, floated on her side, bleeding dark blood into the water from an arrow between the ribs and into the heart. +

+21 The Cell +

+Jal opened his eyes and realized that for the first time in several years, his mother had not called him to training. His room was dark, but there was no mistaking the time. She should have called by now. +

+He donned his mask and hesitantly took up the tiny golden key. +

+If she called, he would answer, but it was not often he had the time he needed, and he decided that he would not waste it. +

+He dressed quickly and left his chamber, racing through the levels of the palace to the great stair. He usually descended the stairs on foot, but who knew how long he had to spare. He activated his house insignia and levitated down the center. +

+Near the bottom, he jumped to the side and followed a narrow corridor to the cell block. He counted his steps and arrived at the correct door. He slid in his key and opened the lock. +

+Inside the room was a small cell, only a few inches taller than he and only a few feet wider. It was empty. +

+"No." He said. +

+He had to have made a mistake. Where was she? He looked around, but found no signs of escape, nor of capture. +

+"No!" He exited the room and looked both ways down the narrow hallway. +

+He tried the adjacent doors, but could not open them. +

+"NO!" he screamed, the sound echoing in the long metallic corridor. A second passed, then thirty. His head ached and his gut clenched and burned. A sending arrived from his mother. +

+Jal, come to the throne room immediately. +

+Jal's rage flared inside him. The truth he suspected burned his lungs and throat. He tried to be calm, to tread carefully, but couldn't help but scream back Where is she?! What have you done with her?! +

+No response was forthcoming. +

+He screamed. An echoing anguish mixed among the cell-block moans. He ran, dashing through the archway to the stair. He took no heed of those around him as he raced fate to the throne room at the top of the complex. +

+He arrived at the doors out of breath, and furious. Guards attempted to bar his way to announce him, but Jal rushed deftly past them and stormed into the throne room without announcement. +

+22 Motherly Love +

+Ul'Ilindith reclined upon the throne. A drooling zombie stood guard beside it, once a powerful priestess, she was now cursed to forever stand as a reminder of what may happen to those who lose the favor of the Spider Queen. +

+Guards lined the walls armed with hand crossbows. Tastadraa and his son stood before the dais, waiting for the final addition to their ranks. +

+It burst into the throne room. +

+"Where is she?! What have you done with her?!" Jal screamed. +

+Ul'Ilindith remained seated and unaffected. +

+Jal screamed again, "WHERE IS SHE?!" The volume and the timbre contrasted dramatically with the unimpressive image of the drow youth. An aura of fear radiated from him, slowly affecting the nearest guards who stiffened and stood frozen beside the open door, mouths agape. +

+"My my, Mother, what am impudent little pup I've raised." Ul'Ilindith lamented to the zombie beside her. It responded to the attention by lolling its head slightly towards the sound. +

+Jal looked to the pair standing before the throne with suspicion. +

+"Where is my mother." he stated. +

+"Jal, Jal, do calm down. I have liked your 'mother' from the moment I saw her. I believe that we share a certain… bond. But display an attitude again in my presence, and I promise, she'll soon resemble my mother more than yours." Ul'Ilindith casually gestured to the guard zombie. +

+Jal deflated. The fire in his throat cut off any further words, and tears threatened to well behind his eyes. But his anger wisely turned to caution. He looked around the room and took in the situation, then wandered to his spot beside the other two males. +

+Ul'Ilindith was not sure about what she'd seen foretold, and thought about the rogue's warning. She had worried about the course set before her, but Jal's continuing insubordination left no room for doubt. +

+She put aside her contemplation and said with a plastered smile, +

+"A special opportunity has come to my attention. The first house has shown to me a great vision of the future. A great warrior, a son of D'Maelnor, shall join with the first house and lead an army of darkness across the surface world." +

+Master Tastadraa's mouth fell agape, Tastavi focused on calming his excitement, Jal just strained against his rage, though there was dull curiosity there too. Tastavi was the only "son of D'Maelnor" he knew who could possibly wear the description of 'great warrior.' +

+Ul'Ilindith just watched their reactions to be sure. Yes, the choice was obvious, but perhaps it should still be best left in Lolth's hands. +

+"Brother, you're a bit too old to be our warrior. Step away from the dais. I will address the boys." +

+Tastadraa bowed and stepped back into a line of guards at the side. +

+Jal felt isolated upon the dais. He looked to Tastavi uncertainly, but Tastavi looked at his aunt with expectancy, ambition gleaming in his eyes. +

+Ul'Ilindith addressed the room. "Before me stand two great sons of D'Maelnor:" +

+A dull question thumped in the back of Jal's mind. What? +

+"Tastavi, son of Tastadraa D'Maelnor." +

+Two great sons? Tastadraa isn't up here, just Tastavi and… +

+"and Jal'Bror'Noloth, my firstborn son," +

+Jal almost fell from the dais. No, she had been his 'Matron Mother', but he'd never believed that… +

+"whom I carried and delivered." +

+Jal's rage flared, but his voice was nowhere to be found it in. He stood stone-faced and looked to the ground. +

+Tastavi looked to his newfound cousin with surprise, and sudden jealousy. All this time, and Jal had never told him? There he stood, embarrassed to have his secret revealed. Were they ever friends, or only rivals? +

+"Both of you have surpassed my expectations with regard to fighting prowess. But… There is but one great warrior." Ul'Ilindith stated clearly. +

+She let the statement sink in. +

+Tastavi turned. +

+Jal broke from his focused denial and turned to look at his friend. He shook his head, slowly in disbelief. +

+Tastavi reached his hands slowly to the hilts of his swords. +

+Jal made no move to match him. He looked to Ul'Ilindith. She smiled wickedly. He looked to Tastadraa. He looked lost, a mixture of caring father, and greedy coward. +

+He threw off his sword belt. It fell with a clatter to the ground. +

+"Tastavi can go. He can be your warrior." +

+Tastavi looked quickly back and forth between Jal and Ul'Ilindith. +

+Ul'Ilindith's smile became a sneer. +

+A muffled screaming came from somewhere behind the throne and an aging kobold, bound and gagged, naked and bleeding, was brought before it. The zombie drooled at her and strained at its magical restraints. +

+"No. You shall fight, my little iblith." She held out her hand before her with an open palm. In it lay a small scrap of white velvet. Slowly fire rose from her fingers and ignited it. +

+Immediately Jal was wracked with pain as if his face was being torn off. He screamed, a primal roar, a dragon's roar. Guards around the room stiffened. Tastavi's eyes grew wide. +

+Ul'Ilindith turned her hand over into a fist and crushed the ashes. +

+The polymorph spell of the mask was ended. Jal knelt on the ground. He breathed heavily and shivered. His clothes were tatters. He held the thin mask in his hands–his clawed hands. He looked up, his white hair falling over his yellow eyes. +

+Tastavi looked upon him with a mixture of disgust, betrayal, and fear. +

+Jal shook his head, dropped the mask, and held his hands up defensively, waving away the accusation in Tastavi's eyes. +

+"Kill him." Ul'Ilindith commanded Tastavi. +

+Tastavi drew his swords. +

+23 The Will of Lolth +

+Though years had passed since their first fight, Jal found the whole scene familiar. Tastavi would stalk forward blades drawn and execute a perfect series of textbook thrusts and faints. He'd win. He usually did, but this time he wouldn't stop. This was no practice spar; this was life and death. +

+Jal snatched up his weapon belt, pulling his blades from it–a rapier and a dagger–kicked it into Tastavi's face, and retreated. But Tastavi responded by slashing down in a brutal 'X' with his scimitars, cutting the tossed belt and bag into four even pieces. Jal tried to reason with him, but couldn't get out more than a word against the determination in Tastavi's eyes, and speed of his routine. +

+Tastavi came on in full. Emotions flooded his mind, betrayal was nothing new or exotic to a drow, but this was something more than that. Jal was a half-breed, a disgrace. He would put an end to this traitor, this ibluth masquerading as a D'Maelnor. Only a true D'Maelnor could lead an army of drow to bring justice to the surface world. Not this abomination. Tastavi thought back to every fight against the traitor, to the times he had beaten him. His training had always won out in the end. He couldn't help but think of the good times as well. But he violently rejected them. Lies, they were all lies. +

+Tastavi lunged forward, his whole body extending, uncoiling like a viper. Jal managed a half-hearted parry, sending Tastavi's thrust out wide, but lost space, as Tastavi dropped his blade below, tapped the tip of Jal's rapier harmlessly upwards with the strong of his blade and re-engaged. Jal managed to parry the first few blows of every line, but barely held on as the sequences progressed. He was never as good as Tastavi at feeling the parries and teaching his arms to remember them. Jal relied on the space afforded by his greater height, backing away, disengaging, dodging, and doing anything to break Tastavi's muscle memory. Several times he tried to flee, but whenever he came close to the guards, their crossbows forced him back into the fight against his friend. +

+Jal looked into Tastavi's eyes, but saw nothing but pain there. Deep welling emotion. Not regret, but pure righteous hatred. The look festered like a wound on his conscience. He felt the bile welling in his throat, preparing to send forth a blast of acid to burn away that look. But he choked it back and continued to parry. +

+There had to be another way. +

+Jal felt strong. Free from the polymorph, he was able to stand to his full height, the chamber, the columns, even the other drow all seemed so much smaller now. The passing thought gave him an idea. But he had to act quickly. +

+Jal flexed his thick legs, turned, back to the enemy, and rushed headlong into a pair of guards. He felt the wind of Tastavi's blade barely miss impaling him. The guards paled at the sight of a large black half-dragon barreling at them, and dodged behind a pillar, firing crossbow bolts at him as they fell. But they were poorly aimed and glanced off of his hard black scales. He followed them around the pillar, screaming. Then silence filled the chamber. +

+Tastavi soon followed, breathing heavily from his furious assault, but found nothing around the pillar but the pair of guards unconscious on the ground. He darted around the other side of the pillar to find nothing there either. He looked around behind him in frustration and caught a glance at another guard from the other side of the room staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. He turned to the pillar and found deep scratches on the intricately carved relief. His eyes followed them up, to find Jal climbing, tearing chunks of the porous stone free with his claws to use as handholds. +

+Ul'Ilindith held out a hand to keep the archers at bay, amused by the tactic. +

+Tastavi put away his swords and carefully followed him up. +

+The chamber's ceiling was crisscrossed with the webs of thousands of spiders. Moths and flies, bats and even larger specimens struggled in freshly wrapped cocoons or lay very still. Drow-made archways that provided places for the webs to attach jut from odd angles. Crisscrossing struts connected them in intricate patterns. Jal leaped from the top of the pillar to one of these, sending its occupants scurrying away. +

+He moved from strut to strut, displacing as few spiders as possible–it was bad luck after all–running where he could, climbing where he could not, and constantly dodging the think and sticky strands. He reached the end of one strut and turned to see Tastavi racing after him, swords drawn, hacking at whatever strands got too close. Jal looked around and dove into the thickest part of the webbing, directly over the throne. +

+In the confined space it would be much more difficult to dodge, and impossible to run, but Jal took comfort in knowing that if he could find the right spot, it would also be impossible to lunge. His greater range combined with the sticky walls could then keep any advance at bay. He found a large strut, disconnected from the one he was on, probably two feet think, and curving from the ceiling like a hook. Tastavi was nearly on him. This would have to do. +

+He took a deep breath, coiled like a spring and jumped. He tossed his rapier into the air, spun around, back parallel to the ground, and threw his dagger out behind him. He continued his rotation and found the strut at the same time the rapier bounced against it. The blade followed the curve upwards and then fell off to the side. Jal reached out with his legs and caught it with his foot. +

+Tastavi turned the corner quickly, moving to follow him, but had stop to knock aside the dagger inches from his face. He glared across the gap. +

+Jal pulled himself up with a deep groan and the heavy rumbling breaths of a dragon. More than forty feet below him from the throne chamber, Ul'Ilindith smiled wickedly. +

+Jal watched as Tastavi's furious glare turned into a look of panic. +

+Several web strands twinged near Jal's head and a slight clicking sound came from somewhere disturbingly close by. +

+"It's a spider isn't it?" +

+Tastavi's silence was telling. +

+"It's right behind me isn't it?…" +

+"…" +

+"Right." +

+Jal dropped to the strut just in time for the spider's jowls to snap shut where he stood. He turned and sliced out with his rapier, tearing away a thick strand of webbing. He wrapped it around his leg, then jerked left and right, barely dodged the spider's next two rapid attempts to capture him. He kicked out against it, not to hurt it, but to use it as a springboard. He jumped back across the gap, sword leading his way. +

+Tastavi saw the move coming and instead of falling back, he leaped from the ledge as well in order to push Jal back into the line of attack from the giant spider. They collided in midair and struggled over a tiny ledge before both losing their footing and plummeting towards the ground. +

+A sickening crunch echoed in the chamber. +

+Tastavi groaned upon the ground. Jal hung from the thick strand of webbing just above him. They had fallen towards the center of the room, nearby the spot where the fight had begun, before the throne. +

+Tastavi opened his blurry eyes to find Jal standing over him, or rather, hanging over him, rapier at his throat. +

+"Very good, Jal. Now end it!" Ul'Ilindith cheered. +

+Tastadraa looked at her with disbelief. +

+Jal lifted his rapier, pressing it deep, drawing blood. Tastavi pulled away, but winced at his multiple broken bones, some of which protruded grotesquely and spouted little fountains of blood. He closed his eyes, ready to accept his defeat if that was the will of the Spider Queen. +

+But instead, Jal shifted his weight to swing himself towards the throne, brought his sword around, cutting the line holding him aloft, and flipped over towards the dais. He landed with a roll, dodging the lazy lunge of the zombie guarding the throne and sprang forward with the grace of a cat and the speed of a scorpion. +

+A deep thunk and sudden rushing of air shattered the sudden silence. Jal's rapier dug deeply into Ul'Ilindith's chest and blood spurted from the wound. A second later, two dozen crossbow bolts hit Jal in the chest and paralysis seeped into his muscles from each tiny pinprick. +

+Ul'Ilindith's voice came through ragged slurping breaths, a spell of some kind, and Jal found himself sprawling backwards, teeth chattering and sword shattered into shrapnel in his hands. He landed roughly upon the dais steps a few feet from the broken Tastavi who looked at him aghast. +

+Ul'Ilindith's eyes changed to a deep black, and raven flames engulfed her. She chanted with otherworldly power. Her wound closed. She began to levitate and ripped off her stained clothes with revulsion. +

+"Once again you disappoint me my son. Watch what is borne of your failings!" +

+Ul'Ilindith turned ruefully towards the bound kobold and sent forth waves of necrotic energy that quickly tore her apart. Jal tried to scream, but his mouth refused to open and his voice left him silent in his agony. +

+Ul'Ilindith was not finished though. +

+"I'll show you the cost of your weakness! Watch as I cut it out." +

+Instead of turning her wrath on Jal, she turned on Tastavi, pointing a rueful finger and chanting. Soon lightning arced between her fingers, gathering for discharge. +

+"Noo!!" Tastadraa screamed, breaking ranks and standing between his son and his sister. He held aloft a glowing shield emblazoned with the lightning symbol of the surface god Talos, and in his other hand a broadsword wreathed in black flames. +

+"I shall not allow this!" He called to her. +

+"This is not yours to decide, Elderboy." she spat back. +

+Ul'Ilindith let fly her spell, and lightning shot from her finger to the waiting Tastadraa. Electricity sparked and crackled as the shield focused and contained it. What little hair remained on Tastadraa's balding head stood straight but his look of determination and concentration disrupted whatever mirth could be garnered from the sight. He brought around his sword and rapped it against the crackling shield and then with a wave of his arm, released the energy at the ground beside him. Lightning arced into the stone and it exploded with a deafening blast. +

+Tastadraa stalked slowly forward towards Ul'Ilindith. +

+"I'm sorry, Sister, but this is not how the D'Maelnor line shall end–with an abomination." +

+Guards swarmed from beside the throne and drew swords–drow that Tastadraa had taught. But he had not taught them everything. Two moved forward to engage him. Their heads fell to the floor and corpses turned to ash beneath his wicked blade. +

+The rest of the guards looked to the powerful siblings and decided to refrain from allowing their duty decide their deaths. +

+Ul'Ilindith sneered. She began to chant again, her eyes rolling up into her head. The air grew dense inside the throne room, thick and stifling, beads of sweat began to form and run down Ul'Ilindith's naked body. +

+Tastadraa stalked forward with the shield of Talos held high. +

+Beside the throne, the twisted and battered form of Jal's adopted mother began to twitch. +

+She finished her incantation, but waited to unleash the spell to gloat, "Lets see your blasphemous surface god save you from this one." +

+Her hand jerked spasmodically and green bile erupted from the air around it in a stream and blasted Tastadraa to the ground. Contagion spread across his body wherever the stuff touched and ate away his skin. At the same time the kobold skeleton began to slowly shift into place, ligaments forming, muscle growing upon the shifting bones. +

+But Tastadraa was not finished, he pushed with his rotting limbs and triggered the levitation on his amulet. He rose, blade poised to end the conflict with a single vorpal strike. Then his body fell limp and he hung awkwardly in the air, his head crushed from behind by the maw of a giant spider. +

+Tastavi cried out in anguish. +

+Paralyzed by more than just the drow poison, Jal watched the scene progress in horror. Tastadraa was nothing more than a decaying pile of flesh, Tastavi lay broken by his fall, his adopted mother under the throes of some insidious magic. +

+Only Ul'Ilindith seemed unharmed, floating above them all cherishing the moment. +

+The ground began to shake. +

+"Fool, don't you see? A traitor and his son are revealed and Lolth has shown me favor! The dead rise. Even Toril trembles! This is the will of Lolth!" +

+She continued, addressing the guards, "Now. Do as I commanded." +

+A crossbow bolt zipped past Jal's frozen face. The whole world seemed to stop. But the bolt was not indented for him. Beside him, Tastavi's scream became a gurgle as the crossbow bolt in his throat quickly drained him of both the air and the blood needed to circulate it. +

+Jal retched involuntarily, and could taste the poison on his lips. +

+The shaking intensified in the chamber. A column came down in dozens of jagged pieces. Guards ran about, dodging falling debris and spiders. +

+Tastavi breathed his last, slumping against the broken stone. +

+Ul'Ilindith, levitating, but stationary in the air was pelted with rock fragments and quickly began her descent. +

+Jal's anger flared within him, but fear helped him keep his head and push away the worst effects of the poison. What was going on? +

+Ul'Ilindith reached the ground and began to hurry towards Jal, still paralyzed upon the dais steps, but a curious laugh stopped her. +

+"Hahaha, 'da will a Lolth you say?" The scratchy voice became clearer by the second. Ul'Ilindith turned to the living kobold slowly standing up where her corpse should have rested. Her scales grew back in patches, and she peered at the Matron Mother with one regenerated eye. +

+"No my dear, this…" she gestured to the chaos around her. +

+"…is the will of Tiamat." +

+The ceiling collapsed. +

+24 Doom +

+Often a dragon's roar precedes its breath, but Ik'lithslaelith was too cautious and too clever for that. When he roared over the shattered second house of Llolethane-Mael'na'rath, it was a roar of victory. He watched the wreckage from the shadows for a time, but his instructions had been clear: leave nothing behind–and then leave. He disappeared into the forgotten tunnel and was gone. +

+25 Destruction +

+The palace fell. +

+A lone drowess rose from the ashes at the edge of the desolation. The acid dripped from her hands, from her hair, and fell sizzling to the ground leaving her unharmed. Lady Lolth had long ago given her a defense against such poison, when she carried it in her womb. +

+Ul'Ilindith stood alone in the rubble and followed the only other pair of footprints leaving the shattered homestead: her son's. +

+Jal limped through the wreckage, dragging Tastavi's body behind him. It had to be around here somewhere. He hefted a door-sized piece of slate from a shimmering object sticking out from underneath it. A drained and blistered hand held fast to a broken sword, but what attracted Jal's eye was a thin piece of white velvet. Jal took the mask and dropped the slate back into place, reverently. +

+He turned to the body and rasped, "It doesn't look like either of us will be leading any armies today. Please forgive me." He placed the velvet mask on Tastavi's face and began the attunement ritual. He left the cavern once again fully drow, wearing the face of his friend, and carrying his inheritance, a silver shield of a strange surface god, upon his back. +

+26 Dreams +

+Three Years Later… +

+Jal lay on his back on a roof overlooking a bustling marketplace and stared dreamily at the cavern ceiling. It had been years since his flight from the shattered D'Maelnor estate, and he had managed to find some semblance of normalcy in Llolethane, the central cavern of the drow city of Llolethane-Mael'na'rath. He rested his head on his shield, now mostly painted black to blend in with the shadows, and wondered what life would be like without a thousand tons of rock above your head. He wondered what it would be like to fly. +

+Below him he heard the telltale laughter of the fat merchant leader he had followed to this inn. He picked up his bow and his shield and stalked to the edge of the roof above a window. He carefully dipped the inner edge of the shield below the overhang and watched the party descending the staircase in the cool golden reflection. Then he pulled it back up, turned with his back to the alleyway, and counted dramatically, with a familiar half-smile. +

+Three. +

+Two. +

+One. +

+Then he flipped from the roof, dropping below the lip and firing an arrow through the window. He landed on the cavern floor with a roll and disappeared into the shadows–just another renegade drow in a city of renegades. He did not stay to confirm his success or failure, but fled to where he could most easily disappear: the bustling marketplace. +

+He strolled easily through the crowded streets. Though his appearance was quite a bit more handsome than that he had grown up with, he could still blend in with a crowd if he so desired. But then again, where was the fun in that? He was dressed in fine silks and jewels, not rags. And with a small lump beneath his throat, unquestionably covering a house insignia, he was obviously a noble and was given a wide birth by the lesser folk. He casually examined the merchandise of a few carts, but exuded little outward care for the whole venture, particularly when several guards burst from the inn and sent rogues into back alleys to seek an assassin. +

+He eventually made his way into this same inn, and dodging guards carting some new lordling's inherited possessions from an upper room, was addressed cordially by a concierge, "Ah, welcome back Sir! It appears that you are in luck, a room has just opened up for you." +

+Jal smiled to himself and turned to dismiss the man with a "Thank You." +

+He never finished that thought. +

+The man was dead. +

+He stood, smiling pleasantly in demure house leathers with half of his face melted off to the bone, dripping tar-like blood upon his fine padded vest. A spider crawled out from where his ear should have been and snickered at him. +

+Jal backed away slowly aghast, but everyone else went stoically about their business, unperturbed. The room grew dark and Jal turned to the window. A thick spiderweb had covered it with a hand-sized spider hurriedly wrapping a struggling shape. A tiny dragon's wing jut from the bundle. +

+Jal ran. +

+He sprinted from the inn and disregarding caution, fled through the black alleys and twisted honeycomb and spiderweb streets. It was like the passages were built to be confounding, and yet somehow mercilessly efficient. In a matter of moments he was back amid the ruins of the old city, broken homes and discarded people. Screams from behind him followed, the sounds of the guards seeking an assassin. But much worse, the sounds of shattering stone and a deafening roar echoed through the cavern. Jal scurried through the final alleyway and dove into his hideout in an abandoned sewer tunnel. He dropped his rich clothes in the muck and crawled away on hands and knees. +

+He remembered the frantic cries of his mother being torn apart and then her defiant laugh as the walls fell. Her last words echoed through his mind, "the will of Tiamat!" Another vicious roar sent ripples through the water and shivers through the very stone. He heard the clicking of spiders in the distance, drawing nearer. Closing in. +

+He was being hunted. Franticly he drew the shield from his back and over his head and grasped a small dagger in his hand. He was once again a child, in loose-fitting kobold rags and with weapons he could barely use. He huddled terrified in a dark corner. He closed his eyes and begged whatever gods could hear him to escape. +

+A faint hiss cut through the clamor. Not a god, but a tiny snake, the size of a little worm, crawled from the loose stones and looked up at Jal, flicking its tongue inquisitively. The hiss grew louder, drowning out the skittering of the approaching swarm and rumble of the searching dragon. The serpent grew, coiling and stretching, always watching. Jal found that he was no longer afraid, but curious. The serpent grew to immense proportions filling the tiny sewer tunnel, which became a great cavern, yet it still barely contained the powerful creature. +

+Dendar, the Night Serpent, the Eater of the World, loomed over the boy. She laughed with the might of thunder and the promise of disaster. Jal found he could not move. +

+"Jal'Bror'Noloth, your dreamss are deliciouss." +

+Her huge tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, creating wind eddies that buffeted Jal against the stone. Greasy spittle and half-devoured bones–remnants of nightmares long forgotten–dripped from her cavernous maw. Jal could not speak, not even think, as the stench of nightmare overwhelmed him. +

+"Your nightmare though… tastess unique. Because it is true. And closer than you think. Evil godss have planss for you it seemss." The serpent hissed. +

+Jal shuddered. +

+Dendar laughed–a terrible rasping hiss. +

+"And yet… perhapss their planss are merely dreamss. Join me, little drow-gon and while the godss fret for your fate, we shall feassst!" +

+Suddenly the world returned and Jal awoke from his reverie. What a dream! What a nightmare! The details faded, chewed away from his mind, but the image of the serpent and her strange offer lingered. +

+The quiet dripping of sewer water and occasional scurrying of rodent or insect were the only sounds to be heard besides the dull pounding of his heart. +

+He sat in the muck for hours. +

+They were never far behind. Staying in one place for too long was dangerous, but something held Jal in place. Could he actually escape it all? +

+Soon a distant splash alerted him to company. Heavy footsteps, confident and strong, echoed through the tunnel. Throngs of rodents scurried away from the sound, fleeing in terror they trampled on one another. A light breeze blew through the stinking place from the opposite end of the tunnel and the insects stopped their chattering, frozen and reverent. Jal couldn't think. They'd found him. They'd both found him. It was too late. +

+A lightning bolt streaked through the tunnel past him and a barbaric roar answered it. +

+The wind began to howl through the tunnel like a cyclone and the sounds of crumbling rock assailed him from both sides. +

+Jal grimaced and hesitated. But as the twin forms came into view, he shouted into the clamor, "ENOUGH! Dendar! We are bound, now free me from this place!" +

+Wissse Choissce… +

+Instantly a portal opened before him like a tear in reality and brilliant light beamed through. Jal rushed into it and was transported many miles away in an instant. A startled yell and the renewed sounds of battle followed him through, but then there was nothing but silence, the gentle breeze, and the burning light of the midday sun. +

+27 The Surface +

+The blinding light of the Shaar's Summer Sun left Jal helpless. +

+He lay upon the ground thinking it maybe better he have died quickly in the tunnels or upon his own blade. But such musings held no real power, and with the setting of the Sun, and the rising of the lesser evils of the moon and of the stars, he wept freely. For though he was bound–and nightmares would indeed become routine while in service to their master–for the first time in his life, he was free. +

+28 Credits +

+[Thank you for Reading! I'm Andrew Murrell, an aspiring D&D author and dedicated DM. Check out my blog at http://AndrewDM.me/ [WIP] for updates or if you'd like to see more stuff like this!] +

Psionist

2016-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

+Table of Contents +

+1 Introduction to the Psionist Class [5e] +
+2 The Psionist +
- +2.1 Hit Points +
- +2.2 Proficiencies +
- +2.3 Equipment +
- +2.4 Psionist Class Progression Table +
- +2.5 Mind Powers +
  - +2.5.1 Psi Points +
  - +2.5.2 Psionic Ability +
  +
- +2.6 Thought Sensitivity +
- +2.7 Psionic Blast +
- +2.8 Spellmind +
- +2.9 Psionic Disciplines +
  - +2.9.1 Inquisitor +
  - +2.9.2 Kineticist +
  - +2.9.3 Metapsionist +
  - +2.9.4 Mind Master +
  - +2.9.5 Ascendant +
  +
- +2.10 Perfect Mind +
+
+3 Mind Powers +
- +3.1 Basic Mind Powers (Cantrips) +
- +3.2 First Level Mind Powers +
- +3.3 Second Level Mind Powers +
- +3.4 Third Level Mind Powers +
- +3.5 Fourth Level Mind Powers +
- +3.6 Fifth Level Mind Powers +
- +3.7 Sixth Level Mind Powers +
- +3.8 Seventh Level Mind Powers +
- +3.9 Eighth Level Mind Powers +
- +3.10 Ninth Level Mind Powers +
+
+4 Thanks +

+1 Introduction to the Psionist Class [5e] +

+Because the power of psionics is vast but strange, over the eons many have learned to harness its power in wildly different ways. From warriors who use it to strengthen their blades to conjurers who pull matter from astral plane, psionic characters have always been the exception to the rule. As such, it is no surprise that it is difficult if not impossible to encompass all possible psionics users in a single class. +

+That said, a common archetype for a user of psionics is that of the "Mind Mage" or Psionist, a highly skilled and intelligent adept who typically engages in combat by evoking psionic powers in a similar way that a Weave-based spellcaster would.¹ +

+The following is a complete 5th edition class with options for creating the most common archetypes of psionic manifesters.² +

+2 The Psionist +

+A robed man watches the bar from a dark corner, carefully reading minds and waiting for a certain noble to step past the line of treason and arrest him. +

+An invisible thief moves silently through the night. She approaches a locked and warded gate, looks around for guards, and then phases silently through it and into the estate, floating up to the second story window and continuing inside. +

+A gnome sits hunched over a block of stone meditating deeply and tracing lines along its surface. Slowly he opens his eyes and marvels as the golem rises to its feet, rubs its chin thoughtfully, and bows before its master. +

+A blue goblin bends a giant to her will, sending him running into the sea bound for faraway lands. +

+An old man clad in white robes and an impish smile dismisses an inclement fire ball into the Plane of Fire and escapes into a glimmering portal bound for the outer planes. +

+Each of these people are Psionists, a diverse class of psionic manifesters, who use their minds to interact with the world around them. Some are born with the abilities, some are awakened by strange alien forces, and some come to Psionic power after years of exhaustive meditation and training. Regardless of how they came into their powers, Psionists are generally intelligent and motivated individuals whose strange abilities invariably set them upon roads bound for adventure. +

+As a Psionist, you gain the following class features. +

+2.1 Hit Points +

+Hit Dice: 1d6 per psionist level +
+Hit Points at 1st Level: 6 + your Constitution modifier +
+Hit Points at Higher Levels: 1d6 (or 4) + your Constitution modifier per psionist level after 1st +

+2.2 Proficiencies +

+Armor: Light armor +
+Weapons: Simple Weapons +
+Tools: None +
+Saving Throws: Intelligence +
+Skills: Choose two skills from Arcana, History, Insight, Investigation, Medicine, Perception, or Religion +

+2.3 Equipment +

+You start with the following equipment, in addition to the equipment granted by your background: +

+
1. a spear or (b) a mace
+
+
1. leather armor
+
+
1. light crossbow and 20 bolts or (b) any simple weapon
+
+
1. a scholar's pack or (b) an explorer's pack
+

+2.4 Psionist Class Progression Table +

+ +++++++++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+	+Prof. +	+	+	+Max +	+	+
+Level +	+Bonus +	+Features +	+Psi +	+Power +	+Cantrips +	+Powers +
+	+	+	+Points +	+Level +	+Known +	+Known +
+1 +	++2 +	+Mind Powers, Thought Sensitivity +	+4 +	+1st +	+3 +	+2 +
+2 +	++2 +	+Psionic Blast, Spellmind 1 +	+6 +	+1st +	+3 +	+3 +
+3 +	++2 +	+Psionic Discipline Feature (1) +	+14 +	+2nd +	+3 +	+4 +
+4 +	++3 +	+Ability Score Improvement +	+17 +	+2nd +	+3 +	+4 +
+5 +	++3 +	+Spellmind 2 +	+27 +	+3rd +	+4 +	+5 +
+6 +	++3 +	+Psionic Discipline Feature (2) +	+32 +	+3rd +	+4 +	+6 +
+7 +	++3 +	+- +	+38 +	+4th +	+4 +	+7 +
+8 +	++3 +	+Ability Score Improvement +	+44 +	+4th +	+4 +	+7 +
+9 +	++4 +	+Spellmind 3 +	+57 +	+5th +	+4 +	+8 +
+10 +	++4 +	+Psionic Discipline Feature (3) +	+64 +	+5th +	+5 +	+9 +
+11 +	++4 +	+- +	+73 +	+6th +	+5 +	+10 +
+12 +	++5 +	+Ability Score Improvement +	+73 +	+6th +	+5 +	+10 +
+13 +	++5 +	+Spellmind 4 +	+83 +	+7th +	+5 +	+11 +
+14 +	++5 +	+Psionic Discipline Feature (4) +	+83 +	+7th +	+5 +	+12 +
+15 +	++5 +	+- +	+94 +	+8th +	+5 +	+13 +
+16 +	++5 +	+Ability Score Improvement +	+94 +	+8th +	+5 +	+13 +
+17 +	++6 +	+Spellmind 5 +	+107 +	+9th +	+5 +	+14 +
+18 +	++6 +	+Psionic Discipline Feature (5) +	+114 +	+9th +	+5 +	+15 +
+19 +	++6 +	+Ability Score Improvement +	+123 +	+9th +	+5 +	+16 +
+20 +	++6 +	+Perfect Mind +	+133 +	+9th +	+5 +	+17 +

+2.5 Mind Powers +

+All Psionic abilities except those that cast spells are mind powers. Intelligence is your psionic ability for your mind powers. Your intellect determines the strength of the psionic effects you manifest. In addition, you use your Intelligence modifier when setting the saving throw DC for a mind power or when making an attack roll with one. Manifesting mind powers does not require verbal, somatic, or material components unless those components have an explicit cost associated with them or are consumed. +

+Psionic Powers of sixth level and higher take a drastic mental toll when manifested. You may only manifest one sixth, one seventh, one eighth, and one ninth level power per day. +

+2.5.1 Psi Points +

+Psi points represent a Psionist's pool of mental energy. It expands as she gains levels in the Psionist class and becomes more powerful. When manifesting powers, she uses a number of psi points according to the table below. +

+ ++++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Power Level +	+Point Cost +
+1 +	+2 +
+2 +	+3 +
+3 +	+5 +
+4 +	+6 +
+5 +	+7 +
+6 +	+9 +
+7 +	+10 +
+8 +	+11 +
+9 +	+13 +

+All spent psi points are recovered after a long rest. +

+2.5.2 Psionic Ability +

+Mind Powers Save DC = 8 + your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier +

+Mind Power Attack Modifier = your proficiency bonus + your Intelligence modifier +

+2.6 Thought Sensitivity +

+As a Psionist, you are attuned to the thoughts and feelings of others, as well as the concentration of psionic energy in an area. +

+You have disadvantage on Concentration checks and Intelligence saving throws if the number of thinking creatures within 10 feet of you is greater than or equal to three times your Psionist level. +
+It is more difficult for a group of people to surprise you. If you enter an area with a group of five or more hidden creatures, you feel their presence and cannot be surprised by them. You can not determine their location relative to you or where they are hiding. +
+Also, as an action you can examine an object or creature within 10 feet of you to psionically determine whether or not it has a mind. You cannot determine this if it is shielded or immune to having its mind read. +

+2.7 Psionic Blast +

+As an action, you may attempt to use your mastery of psionics to deal psychic damage to a living target you can see within 60 feet of you. +

+If you do so, your target must make an Intelligence saving throw or take psychic damage as determined by the Psionic Blast column of the Psionist table. In addition, if your target rolls less than your Mind Power Attack Modifier on this saving throw they are stunned until your next round. +

+2.8 Spellmind +

+By interacting with magic in the world, and the knowledge of those who manipulate it, you learn to alter your state of mind to allow yourself to cast spells through the Weave. +

+Whenever earn a rank of Spellmind (levels 2, 5, 10, 14, and 17) you may choose a spell from another class' spell list of a level equal to the number of times you have this feature (for example, at level 10 you choose a third level spell in addition to the first and second level spells you have already chosen). Once per long rest, you may cast this spell as if you were of the appropriate spellcasting class except that it does not require vocal or somatic components (material components are still required unless using an appropriate focus. Material components requiring a cost are always required) and it uses your Mind Power Save DC and Intelligence modifier for determining saving throws or spell attack rolls. Casting spells with the feature uses the Weave and can be countered or dispelled. Each time you level up, you may choose to replace a spell you learned with Spellmind with another spell of the same level (it doesn't have to be from the same class spell list). +

+2.9 Psionic Disciplines +

+Psionic Disciplines represent the ways in which Psionists interact with the Psionic Field and manifest their powers. You select a discipline at 3rd level and it grants sequential access tiers of abilities at 3rd, 6th, 9th, 14th, and 18th levels. +

+2.9.1 Inquisitor +

+Inquisitors read thoughts and auras, learn skills, and draw power from the minds of others. A master Inquisitor in a crowd of people is capable of spectacular feats of power, will, and skill. +

+At 3rd level when taking the Inquisitor Discipline, you gain access to all abilities under the Detective Tier. You likewise gain abilities in Melder, Mimic, Tactician, and Imperator Tiers upon reaching 6th, 10th, 14th, and 18th levels respectively. +

+Bonus Proficiencies: Insight, Investigation, double your proficiency bonus for Intelligence saving throws. +

+Detective
+
+Improved Thought Sensitivity: You no longer are disadvantaged by swarming crowds of people, in fact, you have grown to excel in such areas of high density Psionic Field. The first part of your Thought Sensitivity ability now reads "You have advantage on concentration checks and intelligence saving throws while within 10 feet of 2 or more thinking creatures." +
+
+Detect Strike: You sense when an opponent decides to strike you and can mentally prepare yourself. When you are attacked by a creature you can see, you may use your reaction to get a +2 bonus to armor class against that creature until your next turn. At 14th level, this increases to a +4 bonus. +
+

+Melder
+
+Mind Meld: As an action, you may touch a creature with an Intelligence of 5 or greater and attempt to meld your consciousnesses together. Doing so can be dangerous. If you attempt to meld with an unwilling creature, it makes a Wisdom saving throw to block the mental intrusion, otherwise a link is established. While the link is active, thoughts, emotions, and memories are shared freely between yourself and the creature. During a mind meld, since your minds are linked, it is more difficult to lie or to hide information. To do so requires a Concentration (Intelligence) contest for each lie or omission. Either party may attempt to leave the mind meld by repeating the wisdom saving throw (if you attempt to leave, you must also make a wisdom saving throw against your Mind Power save DC). If the link is broken in this way, or in any other way (such as the death of one of its participants or being physically torn from touching one another) before both parties explicitly agree to do so, both parties take 10d6 psychic damage. You may only use this feature once per long rest. +
+
+Touch of Tongues: If a creature speaks at least one language, as an action you may concentrate to translate their intentions, though not their exact wording, into a language you know. This uses your concentration for manifesting mind powers or casting spells and the effect ends when you cease concentrating on it. +
+

+Mimic
+
+Mimic Skill: You tap into the minds of those around you to temporarily learn skills and proficiencies. You may target a creature within 30 feet of you. An unwilling creature makes an wisdom saving throw or is affected. You may learn a skill, armor, weapon, or tool proficiency from the targeted creature for 1 hour. Additionally, you may use this feature during a Mind Meld. When doing so, you retain the proficiency for up to one week. You may use this feature once per short rest. +
+

+Tactician
+
+Tactician: You learn to relay sensory information and plans to and from those around you. When determining if you can see a creature or object, whether for a spell, mind power, or other ability, or otherwise, you may use the senses of any creatures within 60 feet of you instead of your own. You may extend this ability to willing creatures in range by expending a psi point for each creature you target. In addition, you may freely exchange thoughts or images with any creatures to which you have extended this ability for the duration. The shared effect ends if you are incapacitated or after one hour. +
+

+Imperator
+
+One With All: You thrive in areas of high density psionic energy. Once per long rest, if you are within 60 feet of 20 or more people you gain proficiency in all skills, languages, and saving throws, automatically succeed concentration checks, and any psionic abilities that you manifest or spells you cast are considered to be manifested or cast from one level higher. This effect lasts a number of minutes equal to the number of people within 60 feet of you when you manifest it (maximum 1 hour). +
+

+2.9.2 Kineticist +

+Kineticists alter the physical world by extending the conception of self to encompass their surroundings. A master Kineticist can lift a weapon without touching it and walk up the side of a building by simply willing it so. +

+At 3rd level when taking the Kineticist Discipline, you gain access to all abilities under the Enhanced Self Tier. You likewise gain abilities in Extended Self, Kineticist, Master Kineticist, and Kinetic Avatar Tiers upon reaching 6th, 10th, 14th, and 18th levels respectively. +

+Bonus Proficiencies: Acrobatics, Dexterity saving throws. +

+Enhanced Self
+
+Wall Walk: You may travel up vertical surfaces as if they were difficult terrain. +
+
+Force Repulsion: As an action you may have target creature within 60 feet of you makes a Strength saving throw. If it fails, it is pushed up to 30 feet away from you and requires spending twice its movement to approach you until your next turn. +
+

+Extended Self
+
+Kinematics: You learn the Minor Kinematics Cantrip with the slight differences noted below. It does not count against the number of Cantrips known. The number of objects or creatures that can be levitated is doubled. The maximum weight of an object or creature that can be levitated is doubled. When lifting objects with the Minor Kinematics psionic cantrip, you may attempt to attack a creature in range that you can see with those objects. An attack can be made as either an action or a bonus action or both using your Int modifier + your proficiency bonus to hit. You are considered proficient with these attacks and their damage is determined by the statistics of the objects being levitated (e.g. a longsword would deal 1d8 + your Intelligence modifier slashing damage and a levitated boot would deal 1 + Intelligence). Floating objects can be attacked or pulled downwards, which causes the cantrip's effect holding them aloft to fail. If you attempt to make a ranged attack with a floating object, it must have the loading property and be loaded and such an attack may not be performed as a bonus action. You cannot load a weapon or activate a magic item using the Minor Kinematics cantrip. +
+

+Kineticist
+
+Improved Levitation: You may manifest the second level psionic power Levitation at will without expending psi points. +
+
+Psychoportation: Your movement speed is doubled. +
+

+Master Kineticist
+
+Phasing: Once per short rest, as an action on your turn, you may spend a psi point to become intangible until your next turn. You may pass through solid objects and are invulnerable to nonmagical bludgeoning, slashing, and piercing damage, but not structures, boundaries, or weapons created by magical force. Your gear may become intangible with you. On subsequent turns, you may spend a psi point at the beginning of your turn to remain intangible. If you start your turn inside an object and cannot spend a psi point to remain intangible, you are merged bodily with that object. If your body cannot continue to function or your brain is destroyed, you die. +
+

+Kinetic Avatar
+
+Kinetic Avatar: You extend your sense of self into the world around you, animating and controlling objects and structures in your vicinity, then pulling them around you in a swirling cocoon of armor. The effect lasts for 1 minute. +
+
- +You gain a flying speed equal to your normal speed for the duration. +
- +Your armor class increases by 10 for the duration, though this bonus decays as parts of your Avatar armor are destroyed. +
- +You gain a number of temporary hit points equal to your Psionist level for the duration. Whenever you take damage your bonus armor class decreases by 1 as part of the armor is sheared away. +
- +At any point you may shed 5 points of bonus AC to manifest the 5th level psionic power Animate Objects without spending psi points. The animated objects can fly. +
+

+2.9.3 Metapsionist +

+Metapsionists can alter minds and bodies to concentrate or disperse psionic energy and effects. A master Metapsionist can shapeshift, grant spellcasting and psionics, and disrupt the spellcasting and psionics of others. +

+At 3rd level when taking the Metapsionist Discipline, you gain access to all abilities under the Awakened Tier. You likewise gain abilities in Empowered, Metapsionist, Living Mind, and Psionic Soul Tiers upon reaching 6th, 10th, 14th, and 18th levels respectively. +

+Bonus Proficiencies: Medicine, Constitution saving throws. +

+Awakened
+
+Psionic Blade Ward: You learn to ready your body to withstand damaging strikes. As a bonus action, you may spend a psi point to manifest the psionic cantrip Blade Ward (you don't have to be able to manifest that cantrip normally). +
+
+Psionic Recovery: Once per day when you finish a short rest you may regain a number of psi points equal to your Psionist level (up to 9). +
+

+Empowered
+
+Psionic Restoration: Once per long rest at the start of your turn, you may remove a mind-altering condition from yourself. Alternatively, you may use an action to end a mind-altering condition from a creature you touch. These may be Charmed or Frightened. +
+

+Metapsionist
+
+Grant Psionics: Once per long rest as an action you plant a seed of psionic ability in a willing creature you touch. For 24 hours they gain the ability to manifest a psionic power of your choice of 2nd level or lower and gain 6 psi points. If you manifest this ability on the same target every day for a month (30 days), the change becomes permanent and the creature is considered to be able to innately manifest that ability. You may not grant more than one ability to a creature, nor can you target a creature that already can manifest psionic abilities. +
+

+Living Mind
+
+Spell Mimicry When you observe an arcane spell being cast by an individual within 10 feet of you, you may use your reaction to attempt to read the mind of its caster and create a psionic imprint of the spellcasting in your mind. To do so, make a spellcraft Intelligence (Arcana) check against 10 + the spell's level. You may not make this check against a spellcaster who is shielded from psychic intrusion (such as under the effect of a Mind Blank spell). Additionally, the psychic intrusion is not subtle. An unwilling caster may make a wisdom saving throw against your Mind Powers Save DC to prevent you from reading the details of the spell and determine your location. You may store up to two spells in this way, none of which are above fifth level. You may not imprint more than two spells in a day. Casting an imprinted spell requires the use of whatever components, including material, are normally required in its casting or an appropriate arcane focus, however, spells cast in this way use your Psionic Ability, Save DC, and Attack Modifier when relevant. They also require you to expend a number of psi points as if you were manifesting a Mind Power of that level. You must cast the spell at its lowest level. Spells cast in this way are magical and can be countered and dispelled. Once you have cast an imprinted spell in this way, you lose the imprint. +
+

+Psionic Soul
+
+Diminish/Enhance Psionics: You have learned the deep secrets of the Hidden Art. When you or a creature you can see manifests a psionic power or you encounter an existing psionic effect, you may choose to apply one of the following effects to modify it as a reaction. +
+
- +Fork/Merge: You may increase or decrease the number of effected creatures by 1. +
- +Expand/Contract: You may enlarge or reduce the area of effect by 5 feet. +
- +Extend/Curtail: You may increase or decrease the duration by 1 minute. +
- +Shape: You may change the shape of the area of effect (but not the direction). +
- +Counter: You may make an Intelligence (Psionics) check against 10 + the power's level to end the effect. +
- +Splice: You may choose a psionic power of 2nd level or lower and add its effects (choosing targets separately if applicable) to the manifestation (this only applies to powers you manifest or see being manifested). +
+
+You may use this ability once per short rest. +
+

+2.9.4 Mind Master +

+Mind Masters exert their will directly upon the minds of others. A master Mind Master can dominate and imprison the minds of others and even move their consciousness from mind to mind at will. Mind Masters tend to be neutral or evil in alignment. +

+At 3rd level when taking the Mind Master Discipline, you gain access to all abilities under the Powerful Mind Tier. You likewise gain abilities in Dominating Mind, Transcendent Mind, Mind-Slaver, and Imprisoner tiers upon reaching 6th, 10th, 14th, and 18th levels respectively. +

+Bonus Proficiencies: Persuasion, Wisdom saving throws. +

+Powerful Mind
+
+Deep Suggestion: You may manifest the second level mind power Suggestion once per long rest without expending any psi points. When you do, the creature you target has disadvantage on the saving throw. +
+

+Dominating Mind
+
+Impose Will: Once per short rest, you may cause a creature making a saving throw against one of your mind powers, abilities, or your psionic blast to have disadvantage on that saving throw. You must do so before the roll is made. Once you've used this feature on a creature, you may not do so again on that same creature until you finish a long rest. +
+

+Transcendent Mind
+
+Psychic Potency: When you deal psychic damage to a target that is stunned, you deal an additional amount of damage equal to twice your Intelligence modifier. +
+
+Psychic Entity: When you die, you may attempt to force your way into another creature's body to continue living. To do so, a target creature within 30 feet of you makes a Charisma saving throw. On a success, you die, otherwise, you take control of the target's body and force their consciousness into dormancy. You gain their physical features (Strength, Dexterity, Constitution) but retain all of your other traits. Once every 24 hours, or whenever you take damage greater than 50% of your max hit points, the dormant consciousness may attempt to resume control of the body by making a Charisma saving throw. On a success, you are forced out of the body and must either attempt to use this feature again on a different target or die. +
+

+Mind-Slaver
+
+Enslave: Once per long rest as an action you may target a creature you can see within 30 feet of you. The target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be charmed by you until you die or are on a different plane of existence from it. The charmed target is under your control and can't take reactions, and you and the target can communicate telepathically with each other over any distance. Whenever the charmed target takes damage, it can repeat its saving throw. On a success, the effect ends. No more than once every 24 hours, the target can also repeat the saving throw when it is at least one mile away from you. +
+

+Imprisoner
+
+Imprisonment: You learn the 9th level Wizard spell Imprisonment as a ninth level mind power. It does not count against the number of powers known, but costs the normal number of psi points to manifest. As a Mind Master, Imprisonment gains an additional option: Mind Prison. You may choose to Imprison the creature directly in your mind. There is no material component needed for this option. If you die or your consciousness leaves your body for a period longer than 8 hours (as with an Astral Projection spell), the prisoner is released. While imprisoned in your mind, the creature may sense what you allow it to sense and you may read the creature's surface thoughts as with a Detect Thoughts spell. No more than one creature may be imprisoned this way at a time. +
+

+2.9.5 Ascendant +

+Ascendants feel the pull of psionic energy from other planes and dimensions and can learn to manipulate the fabric of reality. A master Ascendant can open portals and doorways to distant places, summon inanimate objects and creatures from their home planes, and banish creatures from other planes back to whence they came. +

+At 3rd level when taking the Ascendant Discipline, you gain access to all abilities under the Astral Apporter tier. You likewise gain abilities in Planar Adept, Ascendant, Shaper, and Master of the Planes Tiers upon reaching 6th, 10th, 14th, and 18th levels respectively. +

+Bonus Proficiencies: Arcana, Charisma Saving Throws. +

+Astral Apporter
+
+Astral Armor: As an action, you may conjure a coating of astral matter which covers the skin. This coating lasts for 1 hour and radiates dim light. Your AC becomes 13 + your Dexterity modifier for the duration. As a reaction, you may explicitly harden the coating, which temporarily increases your AC to 15 + Dex, but destroys the armor in a flash of bright light. Creatures within 5 feet of you when the armor is destroyed must make a Constitution saving throw or be blinded until your next turn. +
+

+Planar Adept
+
+Call Energy: You feel the cosmic pull of the planes of Positive and Negative Energy. Once per long rest, as an action you may cover an 20-ft radius sphere centered at a point you can see in planar energy. Choose either a) the Positive Energy Plane or b) the Negative Energy Plane. The covered area is either a) bathed in a dull glow or b) shrouded in a misty shadow which a) heals each living creature in range by 1 hp at the end of each creature's turn or b) deals 1 damage per turn to all living things in range and the end of each creature's turn. Maintaining this effect requires concentration and may last no longer than a minute. +
+

+Ascendant
+
+Planar Abjuration: As a reaction to a spell or effect within 30 ft of you that would deal fire, cold, lightning, thunder, radiant, or necrotic damage, you channel the powers of the elemental and outer planes to reduce the damage dealt by that spell by an amount equal to your Intelligence modifier + your Psionist level. If the spell or effect has an area of effect, the damage each affected creature takes is reduced by this much. Damage reduction is applied before applying resistances. +
+
+Banishing Blast: When a creature native to a different plane of existence than the one it is on fails its saving throw against your Psionic Blast it makes a Charisma saving throw. If it fails this saving throw, it is banished to its plane of origin with a faint popping sound for 1 minute. While there, the target is incapacitated. When the minute is finished, it returns to the nearest unoccupied space from where it left. +
+

+Shaper
+
+Conjure Astral Construct: Once per long rest, as an action, you may create an Astral construct from Astral matter pulled from the Astral Plane. +
+
+Though you may customize the exact form of the construct to your liking, the statistics for the Astral Construct are the same as that of the Helmed Horror (page 183 in the Monster Manual) with the following exceptions: +
+
+It gains up to three additional options from the list below (you may choose the same option more than once): +
+
- +Extra Attack +
- +See Invisibility +
- +Flash and Bellow Attack (Creatures within 30 ft make DC 15 Con saves or are blinded and deafened for 1 minute. They may repeat the saving throw at the end of each of their turns. Once a creature succeeds, it cannot be affected again.) +
- +5d8 (22) Extra Hit Points +
- +Extra Spell Immunity (Two additional spells) +
- ++3 Damage on Hit +
- ++1 AC +
+

+Master of the Planes
+
+Whitefire Portal: You burn a temporary hole through the Astral Plane and into another plane of your choice. Once per long rest, centered on a point within 300 ft of you, you summon raw Astral ectoplasm which burns with hellish, white-hot fury. Any creature standing within 20 feet of the whitefire must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 12d10 fire damage or half on a successful save. Inanimate objects in the area also take the damage and flammable objects may catch on fire. A portal then opens to a plane of your choice as with a Gate spell and remains open for 1 minute as the planes slowly knit themselves back together. Alternatively, instead of a specific location on a plane of your choice, you may choose to have your portal open into a general location in one of the elemental planes or the planes of positive or negative energy. If you do so, creatures who enter or begin their turns within 20 feet of the portal take 6d10 damage of the appropriate elemental or energy type. +
+

+2.10 Perfect Mind +

+Over years of study and experience in the Hidden Art, you have mastered the use of your most powerful psionic powers. The restriction on manifesting high level powers no longer applies to sixth and seventh level powers. +

+3 Mind Powers +

+ +

+3.1 Basic Mind Powers (Cantrips) +

+At first level, you learn three basic mind powers (cantrips) of your choice from the following list. If a mind power shares the name of a spell then it produces a psionic effect is identical to that spell, otherwise, an asterisk follows the power's name and it creates a new or different psionic effect that is described in greater detail below the list. +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Blade Ward +

+Dancing Lights +

+Friends +

+Light +

+Mending +

+Message +

+Minor Illusion +

+Minor Kinematics* +

+Prestidigitation +

+Resistance +

+True Strike +

+Vicious Mockery +

+Minor Kinematics - Psionic Evocation Cantrip +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: 30 ft +

+Duration: 1 minute +

+As an action, you may levitate an object or creature within 30 feet of you weighing less than 10 pounds. On each of your turns, you may use an action or a bonus action to mentally command it to move up to 30 ft in any direction. The effect ends if the object or creature is ever more than 30 feet away from you, falling to the ground. An unwilling creature must succeed on a Constitution saving throw against your Mind Powers Save DC or be affected. It may repeat this saving throw at the end of each of its turns. You may levitate multiple objects or creatures in this way by manifesting this power again, but no more than a number of times equal to your Intelligence modifier. If you attempt to manifest it more times than that, then all items regain their normal weight and fall to the ground. +

+3.2 First Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Aura Reading* +

+Charm Person +

+Command +

+Compelled Duel +

+Comprehend Languages +

+Detect Magic +

+Detect Poison and Disease +

+Disguise Self +

+Dissonant Whispers +

+Expeditious Retreat +

+Faerie Fire +

+Feather Fall +

+Find Familiar +

+Heroism +

+Identify +

+Illusory Script +

+Jump +

+Longstrider +

+Lock Mind* +

+Mage Armor +

+Shield +

+Silent Image +

+Sleep +

+Tasha's Hideous Laughter +

+Unseen Servant +

+Aura Reading - 2nd Level Psionic Divination +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: 10 feet. +

+Duration: Instantaneous +

+You may target a thinking creature you can see within range, reading its psionic aura, and you may manifest one of the following options: (a) Detect Falsehood: you may determine whether the target believes that its most recent statement is true, (b) Detect Alignment: you may determine the target's alignment, (c) Detect Disguise: you may determine if the target is wearing a magical or physical disguise. +

+Lock Mind - 1st Level Psionic Enchantment +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: Self +

+Duration: 1 hour +

+For the duration, your mind cannot be read without your permission and you have resistance to psychic damage. At higher levels: when cast from a higher level, the duration increases as follows. 2nd level: 2 hours, 3rd level: 4 hours, 4th level: 8 hours, 5th or higher: 24 hours. +

+3.3 Second Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Alter Self +

+Arcane Lock +

+Blindness / Deafness +

+Blur +

+Calm Emotions +

+Crown of Madness +

+Darkvision +

+Detect Thoughts +

+Enhance Ability +

+Enlarge / Reduce +

+Enthrall +

+Heat Metal +

+Hold Person +

+Find Traps +

+Invisibility +

+Knock +

+Lesser Restoration +

+Levitate +

+Locate Object +

+Mirror Image +

+Misty Step +

+Phantasmal Force +

+Psychometry* +

+Rope Trick +

+See Invisibility +

+Silence +

+Spider Climb +

+Suggestion +

+Warding Bond +

+Zone of Truth +

+Psychometry - 2nd Level Psionic Divination +

+Casting Time: 10 minutes +

+Range: Touch +

+Duration: Instantaneous +

+When thinking beings touch the world around them, they leave a psionic imprint of their actions behind. You attune to an object you can touch. Doing so allows you to see the last person to hold the object, no matter how long ago, and its immediate surroundings while being held, including sounds. You may follow and replay the events occurring near the object but cannot move away from the point of view of the object. +

+3.4 Third Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Bestow Curse +

+Blink +

+Clairvoyance +

+Daylight +

+Fear +

+Feign Death +

+Fly +

+Gaseous Form +

+Haste +

+Hypnotic Pattern +

+Leomund's Tiny Hut +

+Major Image +

+Meld Into Stone +

+Mind Bolt* +

+Nondetection +

+Sending +

+Slow +

+Tongues +

+Water Walk +

+Mind Bolt - 3rd Level Psionic Evocation +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: 300 ft +

+Duration: Instantaneous +

+You manifest psionic energy as an invisible bolt that deals damage and can stun a target. Target creature you can see in range makes an Intelligence saving throw or takes 6d8 psychic damage and is stunned for 1 minute. This creature takes half damage on a successful save and is not stunned. A stunned creature may repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. +

+At Higher Levels: For each level above 3rd, the damage increases by 1d8. +

+3.5 Fourth Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Arcane Eye +

+Banishment +

+Compulsion +

+Confusion +

+Conjure Minor Elementals +

+Dimension Door +

+Dominate Beast +

+Empower Object* +

+Evard's Black Tentacles +

+Fabricate +

+Freedom of Movement +

+Greater Invisibility +

+Hallucinatory Terrain +

+Locate Creature +

+Phantasmal Killer +

+Polymorph +

+Stoneskin +

+Empower Object: Fourth Level Psionic Transmutation +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: Touch. +

+Duration: 1 minute. Concentration. +

+You may imbue an object you touch with psionic energy. It glimmers faintly with stored power. At any point during the duration you may harmlessly release the energy which ends the effect. When you cease concentrating on this mind power, whether by choice or by a failed concentration check, the stored energy is released suddenly. Any creature within 10 feet of the object makes a Dexterity saving throw or takes 8d8 force damage or half as much on a successful one. A creature carrying the object has disadvantage on this saving throw. +

+3.6 Fifth Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Animate Objects +

+Awaken +

+Conjure Elemental +

+Contagion +

+Contact Other Plane +

+Creation +

+Dominate Person +

+Dream +

+Geas +

+Hold Monster +

+Mislead +

+Modify Memory +

+Passwall +

+Planar Binding +

+Rary's Telepathic Bond +

+Scrying +

+Seeming +

+Telekinesis +

+Teleportation Circle +

+Wall of Force +

+3.7 Sixth Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Arcane Gate +

+Blade Barrier +

+Contingency +

+Flesh to Stone +

+Guards and Wards +

+Magic Jar +

+Mass Suggestion +

+Otto's Irresistible Dance +

+Programmed Illusion +

+True Seeing +

+Wind Walk +

+3.8 Seventh Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Etherealness +

+Forcecage +

+Mirage Arcane +

+Plane Shift +

+Project Image +

+Regenerate +

+Reverse Gravity +

+Simulacrum +

+Teleport +

+3.9 Eighth Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Antipathy/Sympathy +

+Clone +

+Demiplane +

+Dominate Monster +

+Feeblemind +

+Ghostform* +

+Glibness +

+Kinetic Barrier* +

+Mind Blank +

+Telepathy +

+Ghost Form - 8th Level Psionic Transmutation +

+Casting Time: 1 Action +

+Range: Self +

+Duration: 1 hour +

+You become a ghost for the duration of the spell. Your DM can supply you with the statistics of the ghost and you take on all of these statistics, forsaking your own for the duration except Wisdom, Intelligence, and Charisma. When your ghost form is reduced to 0 hit points or the duration ends, you return to your normal form. Items you carry enter ghost form with you, though none of their magical properties will function for the duration as if suppressed by an Antimagic Field. You may exit the ghost form as an action. +

+Kinetic Barrier - 8th Level Psionic Evocation +

+Casting Time: 1 Action +

+Range: Self +

+Duration: 1 minute +

+Concentration. +

+You enact a shimmering Kinetic Barrier around yourself for 1 minute with a number of temporary hit points equal to your maximum hit points. If you would take bludgeoning, piercing, slashing, or force damage while the Barrier exists, the barrier takes the damage instead. If the barrier is broken by taking damage equal to or greater than its hit points or its duration ends, then it implodes dealing the entire damage to you. While half of the Barrier's hit points or more are gone, you may make an unarmed attack at a creature or object within range to cause the barrier to explode and deal the stored damage to that creature or object. While the Barrier surrounds you, you may not take any other actions, but can move normally. +

+3.10 Ninth Level Mind Powers +

+ +++ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+Astral Projection +

+Foresight +

+Gate +

+Shapechange +

+Time Stop +

+Transfer Wounds* +

+Unstoppable* +

+Weird +

+Wish +

+Transfer Wounds - 9th Level Evocation +

+Casting Time: 1 Action +

+Range: Touch +

+Duration: Instantaneous +

+You have learned to use other's life force as a conduit for your psionic powers. You and one creature you are touching are restrained until the end of your turn. The creature takes necrotic damage equal to your number of missing hit points. You gain hit points equal the damage dealt, but no more than the creature's hit point maximum. +

+Unstoppable - 9th Level Psionic Transmutation +

+Casting Time: 1 action +

+Range: Self +

+Duration: 1 minute. +

+Concentration. +

+You harness the raw power of Kinetics to enter an Unstoppable state for 1 minute. While in this state you have advantage on strength checks to break through doors or other barriers. Also your movement speed cannot be reduced below your maximum speed, you may only move in straight lines, and you reflect from barriers you cannot break in a direction of your choice. Creatures or objects in your path must make dexterity saving throws (if applicable) or be crushed for 10d6 points of force damage. You are immune to nonmagical bludgeoning damage while Unstoppable, but running into traps or dangerous areas may still hurt you. +

+4 Thanks +

+I'd like to thank all of the creators of proper D&D Psionics from every edition, as well as contributors to other systems like Pathfinder and (GURPS) Traveler. +

+I'd like to thank N. Foy, Alex L., Sam S., and Joey A. for playtesting all of the crazy incarnations of this. +

+Also thanks to Nathan R., Luke S., Jacob C., Marcus S., Jay B. and many many others for listening to me rant about psionics for certainly longer than what is socially acceptable. +

+For example, the mind flayer as presented in the Monster Manual has the Innate Spellcasting (Psionics) feature. This feature allow the mind flayer to cast a set of spells using psionic energy. These spells can be countered with counterspell or dispelled with dispel magic and similar effects. +

+First, we brainstormed the available options, then divided them into distinct categories, built the spell/power lists, divided the features vertically by level awarded, compared similar features across classes, revised, revised, revised, and finally playtested it. Now we bring it to the public for large-scale testing. +

+Footnotes: +

+¹ Mechanically, what is worth noting is that psionics and Weave-based magic are two distinct forces. In general, an effect that alters or affects a spell has no effect on a psionic effect and vice versa. There is one important exception to this rule. A psionic effect may allow a creature to cast a spell by teaching them to manipulate the Weave. +

+² In designing this class, the key design ideals were 1) Flavor, 2) Fun, 3) 5e Rules and Design Consistency, and 4) Balance. +

Schools of Psionics

2016-12-31T22:48:59-07:00

What I mean is this:

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

	Introvertion (a)	Extroversion (b)
Mind (1)	Cogitation	Domination
Body (2)	Sympathy	Manifestation
Time (3)	Prescience	Anticipation
Space (4)	Metapsionics	Apportation

With that medium in place, the world of Psionics slowly falls into place as well. Detailed descriptions of the eight schools follow:

1a) Cogitation - Clarity of thought, memory, action, and connection to the Psionic Field.

Examples of Cogitation include "Detect Thoughts" and "Mind Meld" and the ability to learn or borrow skills and proficiencies directly from the minds of others.

1b) Domination - Exert dominating willpower over other minds.

Examples of Domination include "Command", "Suggestion", and "Dominate Person".

2a) Sympathy - Exerting influence upon sympathetic objects.

Examples of Sympathy include "Psychometry", "Animate Objects", and "Guards and Wards".

2b) Manifestion - Creating both illusory and physically manipulable constructs of pure thought.

Examples of Manifestation include "Mage Hand", "Conjure Astral Construct", and "Programmed Illusion"

3a) Prescience - See and feel other places and times.

Examples of Prescience include "Detect Poison and Disease", "Scrying", and "Foresight".

3b) Anticipation - Solidify expectation and possibility into reality.

Examples of Anticipation include "Heat Metal", "Telekinesis", "Reverse Gravity", and "Time Stop".

4a) Metapsionics - Manipulating sources of Psionism and their direct effects.

Examples of Metapsionics include "Detect Magic", "Counterspell", and "Awaken"

4b) Apportation - Pulling and pushing on planar boundaries with the Psionic Field.

Examples of Apportation include "Dimension Door", "Banishment", and "Whitefire Portal"

== Post Script ==

Q: Specifics (where do these fit in?) - A: Answer

Apportation includes an allusion to "Whitefire Portal". What's that? - Oh, just this cool thing I made:

Spell Gauntlet: Practical Spellcasting

2016-12-31T22:48:59-07:00

Teleport

Wizard - ft. Ula Mindis

The young Wizard Ula Mindis awoke to the smell of steeping tea.

Perhaps she could not cast the spell, Ula mused, because she was perfectly happy exactly where she was.

Ow!

She set it down again and sent her unseen servant for an ice-block for the tea.

She thought about ice, about water, then again about the spell.

Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity.

That was it!

By the time the ice-cube arrived the tea was long forgotten.

The words came one after another perfectly, Ula could almost predict them. Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity.

And suddenly she was in the marketplace.

The surprised merchants around her started then blushed as she cheered "I did it! I did it!" and jumped up and down.

Only after nearly a minute of excited and likely bewildering explanation to the surprised fellows did Ula realize she had not changed from her slip and nightgown yet.

Oh well. She needn't be that embarrassed. She could always move; now the world was at her fingertips.

Sorcerer - ft. Saffron Dayl'asaar

Saffron looked at the picture of the remote village.

"You've got to be kidding me." she stated in deadpan.

Which, admittedly, she was likely to do, assuming of course that she could locate the stlarned place to disappear to.

"No, I mean, this is the best information you have?"

Exquisite detail my arse. thought Saffron.

"Okay. It will have to do." She snatched up the paper and her traveling gear and concentrated on the picture and on her breathing.

"Ugh, Mystra you're working with Talos now to make my life violent and unpredictable? Is it too much to ask for--I don't know--a normal casting every once in a while?"

Her curses as she trudged through the rain would have made her ancestors, the Day'lasaar pirates of the Sea of Fallen Stars, proud.

Bard - ft. Orryn Raulnor

"You mean you're the third Raulnor with that name?!" the sellsword asked incredulously.

"No, no. Where I'm from that means that I'm the third oldest son." a gnome in gilded leathers replied.

"I see. Still too long for my tastes, I'm not for knowing what yer parents was for thinking, but nobody needs a name that damn long. And what about that 'sonoviches' part?"

"Well, that's a bit complicated: it roughly translates to something somewhere between 'indefatigable one who spits on witches' and 'largely punctual' ... it's a family name."

The table erupted in laughter.

Soon thereafter, the group seated around the table parted company and the gnome made his way into the street.

He wasn't nearly as drunk as his companions had been, but he only barely noticed the shapes in the alley before he'd walked into them.

Orryn licked his lips and looked over at the subtle shapes of his soon-to-be assailants.

"Excuse me gentlesirs, how can I help you this fine night?" the gnomish bard, twirling a strand of his green beard around his finger in a gesture of mock-nervousness, asked the group of local toughs.

"Halt there, uh, sirrah. It looks like you've, uh, forgot to pay the toll."

"Hmm, I hadn't taken ye to be trolls, but now in the light I do see the resemblance."

"Did'ja he just call Cratch t'be a troll?" one asked.

"He is a troll!" another joked.

"Your mother's a troll." Cratch replied. "Now little one, hand over your money or you'll wish I's a troll."

"All right, all right. No need to be hasty. I'm sure you're all upstanding gents and just want to use the money to pay off your debts and buy your mothers veiled carriages. Here, take the money."

Orryn pulled at a pouch on his waist, snapping the straps, and tossed it on the ground in front of Cratch and the others. It fell open and several dozen large gold coins rolled from the sack.

The octet dived for the spilled coins and struggled with one another to snatch them up.

"Of course, this sum is just a trifle compared to what I keep at home."

"Take us there."

Orryn and the eight were suddenly elsewhere. A very far away elsewhere. Snow billowed through the air and covered the icy ground in heaps.

Orryn's captives reeled and screamed in terror.

"Where are we?? Curse you wizard!"

The group cowered and shivered before a spectacle of magical prowess unlike any they had ever seen or were ever likely to see again.

"And if you would give me back my coin, I would appreciate it."

A few hours later, the eight would-be robbers staggered into a tavern, each holding a single gold piece and a story.

None of them would ever rob again.

Prestidigitation

Magic Initiate Feat - Wizard - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell

"Whadd'ya mean cutof?"

"That's a waste of good liquor, Malcom."

"Just wanted to give'im one last drink is all. I'll pay."

The bartender sighed and reluctantly poured the man another glass.

"How come 'e gets some!?"

"Go. Sit... Now."

As he struggled with gaining control of his faculties to remember the blasted name of that cantrip, the sound of broken glass from across the room cut through the lively atmosphere.

It is said that every adventurer of the Sword Coast eventually finds her way to the City of Splendors, but rarely do so many of them come to a particular tavern all at once.

Seated across from the most recent blackfish of the Harpell family, sat a pair of ladies wearing drenched leathers and scowls.

Harvey seemed not to notice the latter as he inventoried his magical repertoire.

Prefeguritat?

Pregnanitato?

Presdogranado?

No. That'd jus worse.

The room grew instantly silent at the spilling glass and subsequent trading of blows.

No, youse keep talkin, gotta thing. he silently berated the floor.

Prestangerition?

Moose?

His mind joined his liver, slowly churning through the facts of the day.

/Animal. Forest. Green. She's kinda greenish. I wonder if she's from a forest? Ew, she's probaly dirty if she came from a forest. Eh, nothin a little Prestidigitation couldn't fix./

...

Cure Wounds

Bard

Cleric - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell

"What is the meaning of this?"

Even drunk, even stupid, there was no mistaking that tone.

In that moment, he felt that the only proper thing to do was to join him.

Minutes passed and Harvey was more than satisfied with resting stupidly beneath his boulderous brother, surrounded by the incontinent smells and the tumultuous clatter of battle... wait. Battle?

Oh no. What have I done?

And yet from in that perfect silence, Harvey could almost hear a quiet voice, a whisper of a whisper upon the wind breathe to him.

I know...

The silence abated and the bustling lights and sounds of the taverns returned.

"Oh, right!" Harvey waved away the effect of the cantrip and helped the man to his feet.

Druid

Paladin - ft.

Ranger

Power Word Kill

Wizard

Warlock

The Fugue

The orcs pulled you down.

But he wasn't the only orc, and the hits keep coming, You know that you are going to die.

Soon the blows stop hurting. The world stops spinning and everything is very very quiet.

...

You don't open your eyes. There's no moment of focusing, blurred vision, bright light. You just see. You just are.

You aren't alone.

Others, mostly humans, but a half-orc here, a half-elf there, move through the dirt, knocking up clouds of dust in their wakes. They move so slowly.

You are standing.

You look down at your hand, there is no brand. You flex the fingers, but there is no burning sensation. In fact, there's barely any sensation at all. It doesn't seem to strike you as odd.

As you turn the hand over to put it back at your side, you notice that where the brand was, on the back is a small red patch of dried ink. Perhaps some rune or letter? It doesn't seem important.

You drop the arm to your side, slowly, quietly, and begin to walk.

Nearby is a small hill. Several men and women are gathered on it. They seem to be singing.

The scent dissipates quickly and you continue walking.

You see others wandering aimlessly like yourself.

You all seem to be walking in the same direction.

In the distance is a circle of lights around an impossibly thin silver line disappearing into the sky.

She speaks, but the words are distant, muffled, "Guarded Faithless or Bargained Soul?"

A deep, resonating, but scratchy voice answers from somewhere behind and above you.

"The first. Perhaps next time... the second."

After a moment of consideration she nods deferentially, raises her hood, and turns towards the city, ushering you forward.

As you approach the wall, the whimpering grows louder. The wall has faces. Bodies are stuck together with rotting mortar, which dissolves them like a giant stomach.

Horns blare clearly through the otherwise muted scene of violence.

The guides throw aside their cloaks and brandish sickles and shields. Devils howl war cries and abandon their bargaining to do battle with their hated foes.

A giant six-armed demon with fangs like a viper rushes at you. You raise your hand to call down fire upon it, but you have no power on which to call.

Faust and the Fugue Plane -Andrew Murrell

Hello Internet Person!

2016-12-31T17:43:33-07:00

Hello Internet Person!

I'm Andrew D. Murrell, and I'm a DM.

Though I hold a degree in Physics, am currently working as a manager and editor at a small tech firm. I write, mostly to teach my players about the whatever they want to know about the Forgotten Realms, but also because I think stories make the world a better place. I can be contacted at ImFromNASA@gmail.com and would love to hear from you!

Tastavi D'Maelnor of Llolethane

2016-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

+Table of Contents +

+1. Ik'lithslaelith +
+2. The Drowess +
+3. The Tunnel +
+4. High Priestess Destiny +
+5. Soup for Dinner +
+6. Hunger and Possibilities +
+7. [CENSORED] +
+8. Visions +
+9. Visitations +
+10. Voices +
+11. jal'Bror-noloth +
+12. The Hold +
+13. The Pits +
+14. The Return +
+15. Tastavi +
+16. Trials +
+17. Transformations +
+18. Training +
+19. The Leader +
+20. The Contest +
+21. The Cell +
+22. Motherly Love +
+23. The Will of Lolth +
+24. Doom +
+25. Destruction +
+26. Dreams +
+27. The Surface +
+28. Credits +