The classic "I did this for the right reasons" Edgelord

[The Ship's dog]

So I'm a total sucker for creating uncommon but viable characters with interesting back stories (because I'm edgy like that). Now that there's been a tonne of Warlock stuff lately on this forum, I've been itching to create a Strength-based Blade-lock (Fiend) that uses either polearms or two-handed weapons.

The point I want to make here is the back story. So I want to make this Warlock a Lawful Good Torm-worshipper that made a pact with a demon/devil to give him the strength to fight the enemies of his god. Question is, which demon/ demon lord would be willing to make a pact with a Torm-worshipper for the express purpose of purging evil from the land? I'm thinking perhaps one that is slightly weaker than the demon lords, always being overshadowed and really resentful.

If you could come up with suggestions, that would be very helpful.

[MrStabby]

Well thank goodness Warlocks use wisdom as a dump-stat.

Why would a fiend give power to a Torm worshipper? Presumably the fiend considers this to be more advantageous to their ends than to Torm's. Given that they think it is worth it for the fiend, why did your character believe it would work out better for the side of good? Maybe the PC thinks they are smarter than a fiend (and a fiend of sufficient power to support a warlock pact). Maybe they think the fiend is secretly good? Maybe they think the fiend doesn't have a choice and will just give power to anyone with no regard to the consequences.

[TheTeaMustFlow]

If they think you're going to be going after demons more than devils, Bel or Zariel might, given that they're more concerned with the Blood War than anything else. Though Bel is currently... indisposed.

[Contrast]

If your character lived in proximity to the cult/plans of a rival power he may be happy to empower him to mess with his rivals plans (on the somewhat reasonable assumption that your character will never be in a position to actually strike at them).

If you prefer to keep things simple - a pure soul is worth more than a tainted one/the patron simply enjoys corrupting the good. You paid for the power with your soul - the demon/devil doesn't really need any other incentive.

[Douche]

So he's basically Illidan from Warcraft? Cool character concept :smallwink:

I think that a lot of demon lords would be willing to make such a pact. They're always trying to one-up one another, so a lot of demon lords would be willing to empower a "demon hunter" with the expectation that said demon hunter would be weakening the demon lords nemeses, creating greater opportunity for the lord to weasel in on another demons territory.

Plus, I could imagine the demon lord taking an opportunity to make the hunter do something for him in the middle of a hunt. Say you just beat the boss of a demon temple, and you're about to destroy an artifact that grants dark power. Demon lord chimes in at that moment "Hey buddy, you shouldn't destroy that. Give it to me instead!"

As for specific demon lords, I don't know much about the lord... but I'd say Grazzt is always trying to undermine other demons, right?

[tieren]

Taking it from a different angle, you could have a devil that enjoys his role as the tormentor of souls condemned to him for their evil ways in life.

He empowers a devout follower of good with the aim of smiting evil doers, with the understanding that the smitten will be consigned to that particular devil, not some other tormentor. The paladin gets to smite evil and the devil gets souls fed to him, everybody wins.

Now perhaps in the long game the fiend is also interested in the possibility of corrupting the devout and is constantly tempting him or urging him to go a little behind the zealous smiting of evil, but that could be fun dramatic tension for the character.

edit:
I see I was picturing a devout paladin/fiend patron warlock multiclass, and the OP was asking more single class but the idea is the same.

[Falcon X]

Demons: CE entities are more likely here, as they may just be happy that you are wrecking things. The motivations will have to do with the individual demon prince.

Devils: Glasya is a good option. She is new to being an Archfiend and is being aggressive about pact-making. Being associated with Succubi also puts her in with creatures that often like to look good while subtly creating negative effect (http://mimir.net/essays/succubus.html)s.

[EvilAnagram]

Grazzt would definitely do this if he could be sure that your character would undermine the plans of another demon lord. He hates Orcus, so undermining local necromantic cults seems reasonable.

Another option is that a middling fiend is seeking advancement, and he's accomplishing this by sicking you on his enemies. As you advance in power, so does he thanks to your removing his competition.

[Pex]

If you really want the Fiend Patron theme for your roleplaying hook, fine. I'm curious, though, if you want it because you want to use the Fiend Patron mechanics. Flavor text is mutable. Using the Fiend Patron mechanics doesn't have to mean your Patron is a Fiend. If the DM enforces it that's that, but it could make just as much sense as to say your Patron is a Great Wyrm Gold Dragon.

[Temperjoke]

I can think of several reasons a devil would be willing to make a deal, even if the soul is off the table (you're sure the soul isn't going to end up in the hands of the devil, and not Torm, right? :smallamused: ).

1. Power corrupts - By introducing this worshiper to power, the devil is introducing this individual to corruption. Oh, it's easy to resist at first, but then, something will happen that will push the person a little further down the road. Maybe it's the first time that he realizes that he can intimidate that shopkeeper for a better deal? Maybe it's when he gets angry at the official who irritates him? Either way, the devil knows it will happen, and when it does, the next step on that path gets easier and the one after that even more so.

2. The enemy of my enemy - All devils are scheming against each other in the hierarchy of the Hells. It's part of their nature. By working against the enemies of Torm, you are also being manipulated into fighting the enemies of this particular devil. So you took out the leader of a slave ring? Good, that means the devil's agents can step into the power void once you've moved on. You've exposed that priest as a fraud? Great, that means the devil's cult can step in, using you as an example of the power of this devil (after all, you were only able to do it with the power of this devil).

3. Debts are leverage - The devil isn't going to just give you power, there is going to be something in exchange. Maybe it's your soul, after all, souls are currency. Perhaps the devil wants leverage to negotiate with Torm, since you were a devout worshiper (although, you did choose to turn to a devil for power, instead of praying to your god, I wonder if that will affect how Torm views you)? Perhaps the devil doesn't go for your soul (although, I'm not sure what you'd use to negotiate with it if you didn't offer your soul), maybe it's in exchange for a favor that you cannot refuse, without breaking your contract and forfeiting your soul? Of course, honoring your agreement and completing the favor would only lead to boosting the devil's power in the long run.

[CursedRhubarb]

If you really want the Fiend Patron theme for your roleplaying hook, fine. I'm curious, though, if you want it because you want to use the Fiend Patron mechanics. Flavor text is mutable. Using the Fiend Patron mechanics doesn't have to mean your Patron is a Fiend. If the DM enforces it that's that, but it could make just as much sense as to say your Patron is a Great Wyrm Gold Dragon.

This would make the most sense. A demon or devil could spell trouble for a LG character.

Picking a demon for it would wind up with some chaotic and destructive things you could be required to do for your patron. That village you just saved? Go back and gut the entire family in every third house.
Picking a devil could lead to serious soul searching and issues. A devil would find it absolutely delightful to require you to defile a shrine or temple of Torm to continue receiving their gifts.

[Joe the Rat]

So we have two things: Why the Patron would offer the Pact to a Tormite, and why the Tormite would accept (beyond just being that thick).
Patrons offer deals to get something they want. Fiends, particularly Lawful-to-Neutral flavors, are adept at playing the Long Game. Either what you want to do serves their ends, or sets up opportunities to advance an agenda, or is slowly dripping corruption into your soul, giving each act a nudge towards being more vicious, or selfish, or destructive than you would do otherwise.
Or they give you all this power, and the only cost is you owe your Patron Three Favors - a task or an action of their choice, whenever they ask it. (Rule of Three says it should be three).
Note: this needs to be a decision made with the DM - You need to be willing to have plot-related self hijacking, and agree on limits ("kill yourself" is rather gauche), and what happens should you refuse... if you are capable of refusing.

Another angle on all of this is knowing who you are dealing with. Your patron may introduce themselves - by their true name, even. But you might not know what they really are. Maybe they pass themselves off as Celestials. Maybe they pretend to be Sages or Wizards. Maybe you trained with Charles Atlas (Actually a Rakshasa, Char Lesatlaas), and learned some Muscle Mystery tricks along with your weapon-fighting. You know you made a deal for power, but you don't necessarily know what holds the other end of the bargain. You can also halvsie it - you've made your bargain with an (apparently) neutral-to-benign entity, who turns out to be Aku, shapeshifting Lord of Darkness. So now you take this power and shove it up your Patrons indeterminate form every chance you get. And there's nothing your Patron can do*, so long as you hold up your end of the deal.

*- besides sending waves of minions to kill you, or trick you, or corrupt you. But that's just showing he/she/it/they/<pronoun not found> care.

[EvilAnagram]

This would make the most sense. A demon or devil could spell trouble for a LG character.


That's kind of the point, isn't it?

It's a potentially interesting roleplaying hook because the fiend will try to cause trouble, knowing that pushing the warlock too far will mean losing his plaything. The fiend will subtly push the warlock's boundaries in fun RP directions.

Well, fun for the player.

[The Ship's dog]

Wow, so many replies just overnight! (Way different timezone than most people) First of all, thank you to everyone that replied, they were all really good. Also, yes yes, it is completely inspired by the trope of a good person making deals with the devil/demon/vampire/whatever to gain power. It wasn't directly based off of Illidan Stormrage, just off of the same inspiration for that character.

So the prevailing things that people seem to be focused on are
1. Why on earth would a fiend make a pact with a Torm-worshipper?!
2. Demons or Devils
3. Motivations for the character and/or fiend
4. Who would it be?

For reasons that a fiend might want to make a pact with a Torm-worshipper, there are a couple.
First there's the obvious, wanting to corrupt the worshipper
Then there's the manipulating of the worshipper into becoming the fiend's slave/minion.
Then there's the classic, slay my enemies so I can gain power.

Some interesting options that other people have put forward are:
@tieren said
Taking it from a different angle, you could have a devil that enjoys his role as the tormentor of souls condemned to him for their evil ways in life.

He empowers a devout follower of good with the aim of smiting evil doers, with the understanding that the smitten will be consigned to that particular devil, not some other tormentor. The paladin gets to smite evil and the devil gets souls fed to him, everybody wins.

Now perhaps in the long game the fiend is also interested in the possibility of corrupting the devout and is constantly tempting him or urging him to go a little behind the zealous smiting of evil, but that could be fun dramatic tension for the character.

Personally, I quite like this one as not only is it the safest one (early on at least) but it also opens up some interesting temptation/corruption rp elements.

@MrStabby said:
Well thank goodness Warlocks use wisdom as a dump-stat.

Why would a fiend give power to a Torm worshipper? Presumably the fiend considers this to be more advantageous to their ends than to Torm's. Given that they think it is worth it for the fiend, why did your character believe it would work out better for the side of good? Maybe the PC thinks they are smarter than a fiend (and a fiend of sufficient power to support a warlock pact). Maybe they think the fiend is secretly good? Maybe they think the fiend doesn't have a choice and will just give power to anyone with no regard to the consequences.

I was thinking that perhaps, a cultist disguised as a priest called up this lesser fiend for my character to gain power and thought my character thought that the fiend had no choice.

I'm gonna go ahead and say, even though they are the trickier ones to deal with generally, Devils seem like a safer bet. Noone likes to be inclined or told to do CE acts as they more often screw things up than create interesting rping elements. Whereas Devils are in it for the long run and so they are more subtle than just
"Hey, you see that guy? Kill them"
And so create less disruptive rp dynamics. So yeah, Demons are off the table.

The motivations for my character is probably because he is pretty much a zealot, willing to do anything if it means he pleases his god and can be with his god in the afterlife. After being tricked by a cultist he made a pact with a devil blah blah blah. My character's logic is pretty flawed though, maybe he couldn't be a paladin because he wasn't strong enough and this fiend gave him the strength to wage holy war against evil? I think that there has to be some sort of reason why he couldn't have been a cleric or paladin of Torm.

At first I thought
'You know, Zeriel, Bel or Glasya would be ideal' every single one of them has the motivation to form a pact with a Tormite (thank you Joe the Rat) as they each want to ascend the hierarchy of hell.

But then I realised that actually they are each incredibly powerful so I think I'll go with tieren's idea, but use a mechanic for my own rp that I have come up with, also I forgot to mention that it is AL most probably.

So this is the mechanic:

Corruption
Every time you gain an feature or spell from your patron (each tier of patron spells only counts as one) after level 1, make a DC 4 wisdom saving throw or gain one point of corruption. Every time you succeed on the saving throw, increase the DC by 2.

For every 2 points of corruption you gain, change one axis of your alignment one step closer to the opposite end of the spectrum, starting with the Lawful/Chaotic axis.

This makes it much harder to resist the temptation of your patron with 7 saving throws, each one targeting a dump stat and getting progressively harder to beat.

I was actually thinking of going Fiend Bladelock 11/Champion Fighter 4 so I can get better armour and a sweet fighting style.

[Arcangel4774]

Devils are fiendish right? Maybe you just challenged one to a fiddle playing contest and won. Claiming power as your reward

[GlenSmash!]

Devils are fiendish right? Maybe you just challenged one to a fiddle playing contest and won. Claiming power as your reward

The boy said, "I'm a Tormite
And it might be a sin
But I'll take your bet
And you're gonna regret
'Cause I'm the best there's ever been.

[CaptainSarathai]

Some fluff I wrote a while ago just to prove a point about how you can mix any Oath with the Fiend patron, since most people only believed the only option for a PallOck would be Ancients+Archfey. It's all an interconnected story - Paladin promises a soul to a fiend in an attempt to fight fire with fire. Her daughter finds out that it was her soul the demon wanted. Daughter goes on to form an entire order of Paladins, and successfully defends the kingdom for a few generstions until the kingdom discovers that every paladin in the order has sworn their own soul to a fiend upon entry. The last bit takes place long after the kingdom has fallen, devoured by the fiend - evil never dies, and now it lurks in the dark heart of a wild forest.

The thing blinked it's eyes, as though waking from long slumber. It looked around at unfamiliar surroundings, noting the geometric designs of the trap chalked onto the floor. It had detected the mortal stink of its 'summoner' almost immediately, but only now turned to face her.
"What do you want... Paladin"
"Vengeance"

The devil stifled a chuckle before breaking into laughter,
"Get in line"

The Paladin stepped into the flickering candlelight. Blood and sweat streaked the travel-grime on her face. Smoke from the burning town lay heavy on the air.
"Years ago, you devoured my village. My mother and father, little brother, my betrothed. I alone was spared, only to wish that I had died. I swore my sword to Pelor that day. Swore to vanquish you and your degenerate ilk.
But my vows were not enough. You are miserable wretches, compared to the evils in this world."

The devil studied her eyes, then looked around the shattered room again,
"And so what do you want? An apology?"

The Paladin was against him in a second. She swept over the barricade provided by the chalk outline, putting herself into the ward with the devil. Inches from the devil's twisted face, she spoke,
"Power. I want power. I want the power to carry Pelor's vengeance into places where even His light is swallowed in the darkness. Amd for that, I need to look beyond the limited commandments of a bunch of old priests. They don't know - they haven't seen what it's like out there, beyond the priory walls."

"Well, that is interesting. And how would your 'god' look at your sudden... 'willingness' to go outside the law?
And most importantly, what's in it for me?"
The devil's eyes narrowed at this last thought, searching the Paladin, trying to keep its interests well-veiled.

"A soul. One, for the chance to save a thousand. When my task is done, I shall go willingly to the same fate as my family"

A smile slowly cracked the devil's leathery skin,
"A Paladin's soul? That must be worth, oh, a small fortune. Slightly tarnished, I'm sure, by the time your done with this little 'adventure.' But oh... the things they would do to you, something so... chaste. A rare delicacy indeed."

"Do we have a deal, filth?"
The grin widened. The devil extended a clawed hand. It thought it saw a moment's hesitation, but Paladin shook on the deal,
"Master," the devil corrected her.


My name is Mirabel, and I am damned.

Years ago, my mother made a Pact with a devil. One soul, to save a thousand. She thought it would end when the quest was done, when the light of Pelor shown bright and true across the realm. She lay aside her sword, put down her shield, removed her helmet. She climbed to the top of a mountain and stared long days at the prized kingdom below, that her last sight might be of her legacy ere the time came. But the devil did not come for her. Not for months. Not for years.

She moved on, ever in hiding from the church she had defied with her decision. She found a village, not unlike the one she had called home. She found a job, a simple healer for the townfolk. She met a man, not unlike her betrothed before. She had me...

She hadn't meant to. I know. I could see it in the way she looked at me. The sadness in her eyes. She must have realized it then. One soul. One, for one thousand. The devil never wanted hers.
She didn't tell me for years. Those same, sad eyes. For years. Not when papa died. Not when she pushed me away, into the service of Pelor. She never told me, in all that time. Not until I returned home with my shield and spurs, a newly sworn Paladin. She cried, then. I remember. And there, on her deathbed, she finally told me.

It made sense then. All at once. The nightmares that had plagued me since childhood. The strange things I could do as if by magic. The sinful, unclean thoughts that had writhed like maggots in the far corners of my mind.

I am my mother's daughter. I am the Soul Who Was Forsaken. I am eternally damned.

But I am Mirabel. My faith is my shield, and my oath is my bond.
And they will not have me without a fight.


Nobody knows how long it's been like this, the Devil and the Crown. Most don't even know. Only we few. We happy few...

"One soul for one thousand," they had said. That was the deal, after all. To think, that's the value on a life. One for a thousand. I am honored, though. It is through my sacrifice, and my brothers' and sisters', our kingdom persists.

The oath of our Order is not one taken lightly. Fealty to our Lord Sovereign is only the surface of our duty. Our sacrifice buys the freedom of the entire realm from the predations of the devils. Freedom bought with the currency of our souls.

They call us monsters. In the first years of the new era, when Saint Mirabel founded our order, we had voice in the throneroom itself. But they learned our terrible secret. Learned of the price we paid - and still pay - for their freedom. The crown distanced itself from us, too afraid to be seen in league with "devil worshippers" or "hell-touched" such as we, and yet, too afraid to let us go.

And so every year, a new crop of Potentiates arrives. Very few volunteer. Few who do know the whole truth - our terrible secret. Mostly, they're "undesirables;" foundlings, orphans, like I had been. We happy few. We have nowhere to go after this life. No loving family to welcome us into the next life. We had no family to welcome us into this one. Death holds no fear for us, we happy few.

But I know my devil. I have seen it, lurking in the long shadows of my mind. Ours is a long war - not fought out there, questing against criminals and banditry in the name of the crown. No, ours is an internal war, fought within our mortal souls. We are sworn to the devils, but only in death. We must fight against them, every night and day, sleeping and waking. We few. We happy few...


I have walked long in these forests. It is the forgotten lands which speak most deeply to my heart. For it is in the forgotten lands that nature truly reveals itself; not in beauty, not in terrible wrath, but in permanence. The raw, timeless, power of nature. Creatures are born, and creatures die. The carrion, fungi, and worms, feast on their flesh, break them down, return them to dirt. New life springs from the soil, only to die, and repeat the cycle again. The cycle is the truth in all things - from the lowliest insect, to the mightiest empire. And nowhere is that more apparent, than in the forgotten lands.

I know not where it came from, this great depression of earth, this great, festering wound in the countryside. Once, it seems, it was a great city. Legends tell that it was so. A city of shining silver and gleaming marble. A city of law. Of order. But a city of life. And all things must die. And so the end came. Devils, the legends had spoken. Devils in the hearts of the very ones sworn to save it. The devils had come, like carrion, like the fungi, and worms to return the living soul of the city to the dirt. And now nature, with her vines and her roots, returns the silver and marble to the dirt as well.

But not I. No. I will not become dust. No carrion, no fungi, no worms shall feast on me. For I traced this scar of the land to its very origin. Its terrible, powerful origin. I have seen the heart of this forgotten land. I have seen the Bleeding Tree.

In the center of the city-that-has-gone, it stands. Fusion of Nature and Fiend. The Bleeding Tree. The speaking tree. The boughs which whisper darkest secrets in the wind. The roots which stretch far deeper than they ought. The tree that does not die. When all life was devoured, the Fiend could not live on alone, and at last, found its place in nature. There, deep in the forgotten land, in the heart of the Bleeding Tree.

I rested long beneath the Bleeding Tree. I listened long to its secrets. Pondered its great and terrible secrets. Am beholden to its dark and awful secrets.
"Methuselah" it whispered in the breeze
"Oath-bound to nature," it shivered with its vines
"Learn from me the true fate of all things" the leaves spoke, rustling
"Your soul," the trunk groaned
"For the power to spread True Life to this world" the branches moaned
"One for One Thousand" the wind howled.
I will never forget how the wind howled.
I will never forget.
Never forget.

Each of us, food. For the carrion. For the fungi. For the worms. One of us. Food for one thousand. Just as the Bleeding Tree said.
One. One for one thousand.

[Isaire]

Some fluff I wrote a while ago just to prove a point about how you can mix any Oath with the Fiend patron, since most people only believed the only option for a PallOck would be Ancients+Archfey. It's all an interconnected story - Paladin promises a soul to a fiend in an attempt to fight fire with fire. Her daughter finds out that it was her soul the demon wanted. Daughter goes on to form an entire order of Paladins, and successfully defends the kingdom for a few generstions until the kingdom discovers that every paladin in the order has sworn their own soul to a fiend upon entry. The last bit takes place long after the kingdom has fallen, devoured by the fiend - evil never dies, and now it lurks in the dark heart of a wild forest

This is a really cool idea, would be a great bit of world building. To actually set it up would require a fair bit of DM cooperation but hey, it's a sweet idea so they may well help :)

[The Ship's dog]

Some fluff I wrote a while ago just to prove a point about how you can mix any Oath with the Fiend patron, since most people only believed the only option for a PallOck would be Ancients+Archfey. It's all an interconnected story - Paladin promises a soul to a fiend in an attempt to fight fire with fire. Her daughter finds out that it was her soul the demon wanted. Daughter goes on to form an entire order of Paladins, and successfully defends the kingdom for a few generstions until the kingdom discovers that every paladin in the order has sworn their own soul to a fiend upon entry. The last bit takes place long after the kingdom has fallen, devoured by the fiend - evil never dies, and now it lurks in the dark heart of a wild forest.

The thing blinked it's eyes, as though waking from long slumber. It looked around at unfamiliar surroundings, noting the geometric designs of the trap chalked onto the floor. It had detected the mortal stink of its 'summoner' almost immediately, but only now turned to face her.
"What do you want... Paladin"
"Vengeance"

The devil stifled a chuckle before breaking into laughter,
"Get in line"

The Paladin stepped into the flickering candlelight. Blood and sweat streaked the travel-grime on her face. Smoke from the burning town lay heavy on the air.
"Years ago, you devoured my village. My mother and father, little brother, my betrothed. I alone was spared, only to wish that I had died. I swore my sword to Pelor that day. Swore to vanquish you and your degenerate ilk.
But my vows were not enough. You are miserable wretches, compared to the evils in this world."

The devil studied her eyes, then looked around the shattered room again,
"And so what do you want? An apology?"

The Paladin was against him in a second. She swept over the barricade provided by the chalk outline, putting herself into the ward with the devil. Inches from the devil's twisted face, she spoke,
"Power. I want power. I want the power to carry Pelor's vengeance into places where even His light is swallowed in the darkness. Amd for that, I need to look beyond the limited commandments of a bunch of old priests. They don't know - they haven't seen what it's like out there, beyond the priory walls."

"Well, that is interesting. And how would your 'god' look at your sudden... 'willingness' to go outside the law?
And most importantly, what's in it for me?"
The devil's eyes narrowed at this last thought, searching the Paladin, trying to keep its interests well-veiled.

"A soul. One, for the chance to save a thousand. When my task is done, I shall go willingly to the same fate as my family"

A smile slowly cracked the devil's leathery skin,
"A Paladin's soul? That must be worth, oh, a small fortune. Slightly tarnished, I'm sure, by the time your done with this little 'adventure.' But oh... the things they would do to you, something so... chaste. A rare delicacy indeed."

"Do we have a deal, filth?"
The grin widened. The devil extended a clawed hand. It thought it saw a moment's hesitation, but Paladin shook on the deal,
"Master," the devil corrected her.


My name is Mirabel, and I am damned.

Years ago, my mother made a Pact with a devil. One soul, to save a thousand. She thought it would end when the quest was done, when the light of Pelor shown bright and true across the realm. She lay aside her sword, put down her shield, removed her helmet. She climbed to the top of a mountain and stared long days at the prized kingdom below, that her last sight might be of her legacy ere the time came. But the devil did not come for her. Not for months. Not for years.

She moved on, ever in hiding from the church she had defied with her decision. She found a village, not unlike the one she had called home. She found a job, a simple healer for the townfolk. She met a man, not unlike her betrothed before. She had me...

She hadn't meant to. I know. I could see it in the way she looked at me. The sadness in her eyes. She must have realized it then. One soul. One, for one thousand. The devil never wanted hers.
She didn't tell me for years. Those same, sad eyes. For years. Not when papa died. Not when she pushed me away, into the service of Pelor. She never told me, in all that time. Not until I returned home with my shield and spurs, a newly sworn Paladin. She cried, then. I remember. And there, on her deathbed, she finally told me.

It made sense then. All at once. The nightmares that had plagued me since childhood. The strange things I could do as if by magic. The sinful, unclean thoughts that had writhed like maggots in the far corners of my mind.

I am my mother's daughter. I am the Soul Who Was Forsaken. I am eternally damned.

But I am Mirabel. My faith is my shield, and my oath is my bond.
And they will not have me without a fight.


Nobody knows how long it's been like this, the Devil and the Crown. Most don't even know. Only we few. We happy few...

"One soul for one thousand," they had said. That was the deal, after all. To think, that's the value on a life. One for a thousand. I am honored, though. It is through my sacrifice, and my brothers' and sisters', our kingdom persists.

The oath of our Order is not one taken lightly. Fealty to our Lord Sovereign is only the surface of our duty. Our sacrifice buys the freedom of the entire realm from the predations of the devils. Freedom bought with the currency of our souls.

They call us monsters. In the first years of the new era, when Saint Mirabel founded our order, we had voice in the throneroom itself. But they learned our terrible secret. Learned of the price we paid - and still pay - for their freedom. The crown distanced itself from us, too afraid to be seen in league with "devil worshippers" or "hell-touched" such as we, and yet, too afraid to let us go.

And so every year, a new crop of Potentiates arrives. Very few volunteer. Few who do know the whole truth - our terrible secret. Mostly, they're "undesirables;" foundlings, orphans, like I had been. We happy few. We have nowhere to go after this life. No loving family to welcome us into the next life. We had no family to welcome us into this one. Death holds no fear for us, we happy few.

But I know my devil. I have seen it, lurking in the long shadows of my mind. Ours is a long war - not fought out there, questing against criminals and banditry in the name of the crown. No, ours is an internal war, fought within our mortal souls. We are sworn to the devils, but only in death. We must fight against them, every night and day, sleeping and waking. We few. We happy few...


I have walked long in these forests. It is the forgotten lands which speak most deeply to my heart. For it is in the forgotten lands that nature truly reveals itself; not in beauty, not in terrible wrath, but in permanence. The raw, timeless, power of nature. Creatures are born, and creatures die. The carrion, fungi, and worms, feast on their flesh, break them down, return them to dirt. New life springs from the soil, only to die, and repeat the cycle again. The cycle is the truth in all things - from the lowliest insect, to the mightiest empire. And nowhere is that more apparent, than in the forgotten lands.

I know not where it came from, this great depression of earth, this great, festering wound in the countryside. Once, it seems, it was a great city. Legends tell that it was so. A city of shining silver and gleaming marble. A city of law. Of order. But a city of life. And all things must die. And so the end came. Devils, the legends had spoken. Devils in the hearts of the very ones sworn to save it. The devils had come, like carrion, like the fungi, and worms to return the living soul of the city to the dirt. And now nature, with her vines and her roots, returns the silver and marble to the dirt as well.

But not I. No. I will not become dust. No carrion, no fungi, no worms shall feast on me. For I traced this scar of the land to its very origin. Its terrible, powerful origin. I have seen the heart of this forgotten land. I have seen the Bleeding Tree.

In the center of the city-that-has-gone, it stands. Fusion of Nature and Fiend. The Bleeding Tree. The speaking tree. The boughs which whisper darkest secrets in the wind. The roots which stretch far deeper than they ought. The tree that does not die. When all life was devoured, the Fiend could not live on alone, and at last, found its place in nature. There, deep in the forgotten land, in the heart of the Bleeding Tree.

I rested long beneath the Bleeding Tree. I listened long to its secrets. Pondered its great and terrible secrets. Am beholden to its dark and awful secrets.
"Methuselah" it whispered in the breeze
"Oath-bound to nature," it shivered with its vines
"Learn from me the true fate of all things" the leaves spoke, rustling
"Your soul," the trunk groaned
"For the power to spread True Life to this world" the branches moaned
"One for One Thousand" the wind howled.
I will never forget how the wind howled.
I will never forget.
Never forget.

Each of us, food. For the carrion. For the fungi. For the worms. One of us. Food for one thousand. Just as the Bleeding Tree said.
One. One for one thousand.

This is really cool, I like it a lot. It probably won't help with my Warlock, but I am currently DMing a post-apocalyptic adventure and I could very easily change the BBEG to the Bleeding Tree. The objective is to restore life to the land and so killing the Bleeding Tree would be a great ending. Would you give me permission to use this fluff in my Homebrewed campaign?

[Crusher]

Some fluff I wrote a while ago just to prove a point about how you can mix any Oath with the Fiend patron, since most people only believed the only option for a PallOck would be Ancients+Archfey. It's all an interconnected story - Paladin promises a soul to a fiend in an attempt to fight fire with fire. Her daughter finds out that it was her soul the demon wanted. Daughter goes on to form an entire order of Paladins, and successfully defends the kingdom for a few generstions until the kingdom discovers that every paladin in the order has sworn their own soul to a fiend upon entry. The last bit takes place long after the kingdom has fallen, devoured by the fiend - evil never dies, and now it lurks in the dark heart of a wild forest.

The thing blinked it's eyes, as though waking from long slumber. It looked around at unfamiliar surroundings, noting the geometric designs of the trap chalked onto the floor. It had detected the mortal stink of its 'summoner' almost immediately, but only now turned to face her.
"What do you want... Paladin"
"Vengeance"

The devil stifled a chuckle before breaking into laughter,
"Get in line"

The Paladin stepped into the flickering candlelight. Blood and sweat streaked the travel-grime on her face. Smoke from the burning town lay heavy on the air.
"Years ago, you devoured my village. My mother and father, little brother, my betrothed. I alone was spared, only to wish that I had died. I swore my sword to Pelor that day. Swore to vanquish you and your degenerate ilk.
But my vows were not enough. You are miserable wretches, compared to the evils in this world."

The devil studied her eyes, then looked around the shattered room again,
"And so what do you want? An apology?"

The Paladin was against him in a second. She swept over the barricade provided by the chalk outline, putting herself into the ward with the devil. Inches from the devil's twisted face, she spoke,
"Power. I want power. I want the power to carry Pelor's vengeance into places where even His light is swallowed in the darkness. Amd for that, I need to look beyond the limited commandments of a bunch of old priests. They don't know - they haven't seen what it's like out there, beyond the priory walls."

"Well, that is interesting. And how would your 'god' look at your sudden... 'willingness' to go outside the law?
And most importantly, what's in it for me?"
The devil's eyes narrowed at this last thought, searching the Paladin, trying to keep its interests well-veiled.

"A soul. One, for the chance to save a thousand. When my task is done, I shall go willingly to the same fate as my family"

A smile slowly cracked the devil's leathery skin,
"A Paladin's soul? That must be worth, oh, a small fortune. Slightly tarnished, I'm sure, by the time your done with this little 'adventure.' But oh... the things they would do to you, something so... chaste. A rare delicacy indeed."

"Do we have a deal, filth?"
The grin widened. The devil extended a clawed hand. It thought it saw a moment's hesitation, but Paladin shook on the deal,
"Master," the devil corrected her.


My name is Mirabel, and I am damned.

Years ago, my mother made a Pact with a devil. One soul, to save a thousand. She thought it would end when the quest was done, when the light of Pelor shown bright and true across the realm. She lay aside her sword, put down her shield, removed her helmet. She climbed to the top of a mountain and stared long days at the prized kingdom below, that her last sight might be of her legacy ere the time came. But the devil did not come for her. Not for months. Not for years.

She moved on, ever in hiding from the church she had defied with her decision. She found a village, not unlike the one she had called home. She found a job, a simple healer for the townfolk. She met a man, not unlike her betrothed before. She had me...

She hadn't meant to. I know. I could see it in the way she looked at me. The sadness in her eyes. She must have realized it then. One soul. One, for one thousand. The devil never wanted hers.
She didn't tell me for years. Those same, sad eyes. For years. Not when papa died. Not when she pushed me away, into the service of Pelor. She never told me, in all that time. Not until I returned home with my shield and spurs, a newly sworn Paladin. She cried, then. I remember. And there, on her deathbed, she finally told me.

It made sense then. All at once. The nightmares that had plagued me since childhood. The strange things I could do as if by magic. The sinful, unclean thoughts that had writhed like maggots in the far corners of my mind.

I am my mother's daughter. I am the Soul Who Was Forsaken. I am eternally damned.

But I am Mirabel. My faith is my shield, and my oath is my bond.
And they will not have me without a fight.


Nobody knows how long it's been like this, the Devil and the Crown. Most don't even know. Only we few. We happy few...

"One soul for one thousand," they had said. That was the deal, after all. To think, that's the value on a life. One for a thousand. I am honored, though. It is through my sacrifice, and my brothers' and sisters', our kingdom persists.

The oath of our Order is not one taken lightly. Fealty to our Lord Sovereign is only the surface of our duty. Our sacrifice buys the freedom of the entire realm from the predations of the devils. Freedom bought with the currency of our souls.

They call us monsters. In the first years of the new era, when Saint Mirabel founded our order, we had voice in the throneroom itself. But they learned our terrible secret. Learned of the price we paid - and still pay - for their freedom. The crown distanced itself from us, too afraid to be seen in league with "devil worshippers" or "hell-touched" such as we, and yet, too afraid to let us go.

And so every year, a new crop of Potentiates arrives. Very few volunteer. Few who do know the whole truth - our terrible secret. Mostly, they're "undesirables;" foundlings, orphans, like I had been. We happy few. We have nowhere to go after this life. No loving family to welcome us into the next life. We had no family to welcome us into this one. Death holds no fear for us, we happy few.

But I know my devil. I have seen it, lurking in the long shadows of my mind. Ours is a long war - not fought out there, questing against criminals and banditry in the name of the crown. No, ours is an internal war, fought within our mortal souls. We are sworn to the devils, but only in death. We must fight against them, every night and day, sleeping and waking. We few. We happy few...


I have walked long in these forests. It is the forgotten lands which speak most deeply to my heart. For it is in the forgotten lands that nature truly reveals itself; not in beauty, not in terrible wrath, but in permanence. The raw, timeless, power of nature. Creatures are born, and creatures die. The carrion, fungi, and worms, feast on their flesh, break them down, return them to dirt. New life springs from the soil, only to die, and repeat the cycle again. The cycle is the truth in all things - from the lowliest insect, to the mightiest empire. And nowhere is that more apparent, than in the forgotten lands.

I know not where it came from, this great depression of earth, this great, festering wound in the countryside. Once, it seems, it was a great city. Legends tell that it was so. A city of shining silver and gleaming marble. A city of law. Of order. But a city of life. And all things must die. And so the end came. Devils, the legends had spoken. Devils in the hearts of the very ones sworn to save it. The devils had come, like carrion, like the fungi, and worms to return the living soul of the city to the dirt. And now nature, with her vines and her roots, returns the silver and marble to the dirt as well.

But not I. No. I will not become dust. No carrion, no fungi, no worms shall feast on me. For I traced this scar of the land to its very origin. Its terrible, powerful origin. I have seen the heart of this forgotten land. I have seen the Bleeding Tree.

In the center of the city-that-has-gone, it stands. Fusion of Nature and Fiend. The Bleeding Tree. The speaking tree. The boughs which whisper darkest secrets in the wind. The roots which stretch far deeper than they ought. The tree that does not die. When all life was devoured, the Fiend could not live on alone, and at last, found its place in nature. There, deep in the forgotten land, in the heart of the Bleeding Tree.

I rested long beneath the Bleeding Tree. I listened long to its secrets. Pondered its great and terrible secrets. Am beholden to its dark and awful secrets.
"Methuselah" it whispered in the breeze
"Oath-bound to nature," it shivered with its vines
"Learn from me the true fate of all things" the leaves spoke, rustling
"Your soul," the trunk groaned
"For the power to spread True Life to this world" the branches moaned
"One for One Thousand" the wind howled.
I will never forget how the wind howled.
I will never forget.
Never forget.

Each of us, food. For the carrion. For the fungi. For the worms. One of us. Food for one thousand. Just as the Bleeding Tree said.
One. One for one thousand.

That's awesome.

[CaptainSarathai]

This is really cool, I like it a lot. It probably won't help with my Warlock, but I am currently DMing a post-apocalyptic adventure and I could very easily change the BBEG to the Bleeding Tree. The objective is to restore life to the land and so killing the Bleeding Tree would be a great ending. Would you give me permission to use this fluff in my Homebrewed campaign?

Yeah, go for it. As long as you don't publish it or anything, knock yourself out!

Glad everyone likes it.

[The Ship's dog]

Yeah, go for it. As long as you don't publish it or anything, knock yourself out!

Glad everyone likes it.

Thanks a lot mate! I'll be sure to PM you what goes on in the adventure.