Both friends and enemies avoid gazing too long into the empty eyes of this beautiful half-elf.
|Race: Half-Elf||Class: Warlock||Patron: Great Old One||Pact Boon: Pact of the Blade||Origin: Elohim Empire||Level: 4||Alignment: Neutral Evil|
|Luck||8||-1 / Luck-based Advantages Per Level: 1|
|Save Proficiencies||Wisdom, Charisma|
|AC||15 (18 w/mage armor)|
|deception||blades, one-handed||disguise kit|
|sleight of hand|
Warlock Spells Known
|Cantrips||Spells, 1st Level||Spells, 2nd Level||Spells, 3rd Level||Spells, 4th Level||Spells, 5th Level|
|Eldritch Blast – 1 Bolt||Tasha’s Hideous Laughter||Suggestion|
|Minor Illusion||Dissonant Whisper||Detect Thoughts|
|Mage Hand||Charm Person|
|Mystic Arcanum Spells|
|Spell Slots||Cantrips: 3||Spells: 2|
|Spell Slot Level||2|
|Spell Save DC||15|
|Eldritch Invocations||In your study of occult lore, you have unearthed eldritch invocations, fragments of forbidden knowledge that imbue you with an abiding magical ability. At 2nd level, you gain two eldritch invocations of your choice. Your invocation options are detailed at the end of the class description. When you gain certain warlock levels, you gain additional invocations of your choice. Additionally, when you gain a level in this class, you can choose one of the invocations you know and replace it with another invocation that you could learn at that level. A level prerequisite in an invocation refers to warlock level, not character level.|
|Awakened Mind||Your alien knowledge gives you the ability to touch the minds of other creatures. You can communicate telepathically with any creature you can see within 30 feet of you. You don’t need to share a language with the creature for it to understand your telepathic utterances, but the creature must be able to understand at least one language. The feature is intended to provide one-way communication. The warlock can use the feature to speak telepathically to a creature, but the feature doesn’t give that creature the ability to telepathically reply. In contrast, the telepathy ability that some monsters have (MM, 9) does make two-way communication possible.|
|Pact Boon: Pact of the Blade||You can use your action to create a pact weapon in your empty hand. You can choose the form that this melee weapon takes each time you create it. You are proficient with it while you wield it. This weapon counts as magical for the purpose of overcoming Resistance and immunity to non-magical attacks and damage. Your pact weapon disappears if it is more than 5 feet away from you for 1 minute or more. It also disappears if you use this feature again, if you dismiss the weapon (no action required), or if you die. You can transform one Magic Weapon into your pact weapon by performing a Special ritual while you hold the weapon. You perform the ritual over the course of 1 hour, which can be done during a Short Rest. You can then dismiss the weapon, shunting it into an extradimensional space, and it appears whenever you create your pact weapon thereafter. You can’t affect an artifact or a sentient weapon in this way. The weapon ceases being your pact weapon if you die, if you perform the 1-hour ritual on a different weapon, or if you use a 1-hour ritual to break your bond to it. The weapon appears at your feet if it is in the extradimensional space when the bond breaks.|
|Armor of Shadows||You can cast Mage Armor on yourself at will, without expending a spell slot or material Components.|
|Mask of Many Faces||You can cast Disguise Self at will, without expending a spell slot.|
|Darkvision 60’||you can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light|
|Fey Ancestry||you have advantage on saving throws against being charmed and magic can’t put you to sleep|
Languages: Elohim, Elven, Patrian, Common
Note: Patrian is a dead language from the Age of Magic, used by scholars, sages and wizards (think Latin).
Currency: 16gp, 8sp, 7cp
As a half-elven youth in the Elohim capitol of Cahir Abby, Finch leveraged his unearthly beauty and personal magnetism to the utmost. The sky was the limit for such as he in a land where elves and half-elves were a popular and admired minority. The gifted young mountebank and confidence-man thought nothing beyond his reach.
All was well until Finch discovered an ornate brass puzzle-box hidden in the library of a widowed duchess he was cultivating for pleasure and profit. Well, mostly profit, but she did have a most toothsome daughter! The unfortunate old lady came upon him at that very moment. In a rush of inexplicable rage he brought the heavy brass cube down upon her head. Shaken and blood-splattered, Finch fled into the secret rooms below the ancient manor house. These he knew connected to a network of tunnels and crypts beneath Cahir Abbey.
Finch paused to catch his breath. Cursing his ill luck, he inspected the bloodied box that had ruined his chance to milk a living out of that old harridan. A clump of bloody gray hair clung to one corner. Finch choked back the bile that rose in his throat. The workmanship of the complicated brass device was most impressive! As he considered its potential worth, the various parts began moving, rotating and sliding into the form of an 8-pointed star. There in the darkness beneath the city, the Voice which was not a Voice spoke across the unthinkable gulf. The screaming Finch cast the monstrous puzzle into a well, then hammered it with a heavy stone, finally clawed at it until his nails were broken and bloody, all to no avail. The box seemed impervious to damage and always reappeared in his hands when cast away.
The sleepless weeks that followed were filled with whispers of power, pleasure and pain. Finch could never quite bring himself to jump from the nearby cliffs or drive the dagger into his ear. Always the Voice was there with promises of secret power in exchange for…what? The delirious youth no longer cared. His hands moved without conscious thought, completing the puzzle. The brass machine snapped back into it’s original cube shape with finality and faded from the world. But Finch knew it was always near. A surge of power flowed through his wasted frame, along with a dull ache that over time became a throbbing agony.
Finch now spent his days lurking in dank tombs and dusty libraries searching out the ancient secrets hinted at by the Voice from beyond. The first secrets were painful, but his power grew week by week. Ill-gotten riches were squandered to obtain rare scrolls and books, consultations with sages, and cryptic symbols from ancient graves. Pursuing the beautiful secrets was all that mattered. He was a warlock now, for better or worse. Soon afterward the ache finally grew unbearable. Southward travel seemed to be the only way to alleviate the pain.
Weeks later Finch arrived at a frontier city on the western shores of southern Sheaim lands. The ache had completely subsided. The Voice was now silent, but the hard-won secrets remained. What was the purpose of the curse that drove him south to this jungle hell at the very end of the world? No answer seemed forthcoming, so Finch resolved to ply his trade and repair his fortunes as best he could.