Fleshing out a hybrid Sentinel/Cleric

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Well...fleshing out would imply that I've got some semblance of a story put together. Its really more of a series of ideas I'm haphazardly trying to piece together to resemble a backstory. The ideas I've got are as follows.

-Was raised at the church, as a templar/soldier of his deity/holy dude with a glaive.
-Has a pet (obviously)
-*Something* with the feywild.
-Nature!


Seriously though, I have got very little going for me. I'm really racking myself to come up with something, as this is a little outof my comfort zone. My usual characters are typically fast talking, dexterous warriors, (Swordsage from 3.5, Assassin turned Gloom Pact Hexblade, Feypact Hexblade, etc.). They also tend to be very arrogant. I'm not saying this character can't/shouldn't be, but I'd also like to break out of my comfort zone.

So...ideas? Or hell, even questions to get me thinking. Any assisstance would be wonderful. 

 Well, first thing would be to come up with a reason for that particular class combination... What's the element of his backstory that combines the Primal with the Divine? Given the standard 4E lore and the fact that the Primordials and Gods don't get along, how/why is this character bridging the gap? Or, is he just using one class or the other as a set of game mechanics (and/or job description) and refluffing it to be more in line/a part of the other side?

 What's your race? That could go a long way to providing rationale for your class choices, particularly if you're an eladrin or elf.

Show

I am the Magic Man.

(Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.)

 

I am the Lawnmower Man.

(I AM GOD HERE!)

 

I am the Skull God.

(Koo Koo Ka Choo)

 

There are reasons they call me Mad...

Well the ideas that I had involved him ending up at the church at an early age, possibly infantile. Because fluff is easily reflavored I was hoping for him something to do with fey magic. Especially since he won't be taking many druid spells, other than the dailies which can easily be refluffed as fey magic with spells like faerie fire and fires of life.

I initially wanted him to have some trouble fitting into the church. Sort of stood out, very interested in nature, but still a dependable follower of this diety. Just...odd. Keeps his hair short but very choppily cut, as if hastily cut with a knife or some such. Wields a glave, which is a bit of an uncommon weapon for this particular group of clerics and paladins. Oh, and he's a human. I was also thinking of the animal companion having been with him since he arrived at the church, or shortly before. Even being unwelcome for some months until it gradually gained the church's trust. You know, expressing interest in just being near the tiny human, sleeping curled up around its bed, etc. I dunno. The problem is, I can't really find a hook. Or even if this is a good idea. I was pondering a backstory for a Fey Pact Hexblade, and I think some of the feyness may have bled over into this story and is sort of muddling things.

My big thing is, fluff is mutable. There could be 100 different ways why he can control lightning and have a pet wolf/bear/dragon/otter, so I'm not super worried about where he gets his naturey powers being accurate, so long as it makes sense. He could commune with nature spirits, Recieve special blessings from his deity for whatever reason, weild fey magic, or any number of other things.  
Oh dear.... you've hit the story-idea button... you may want to stop reading now...

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Still here? Okay. You were warned.

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Dear Brother Frangelicus:

The summary of our situation here in the Feywild is both dire and good. We are reduced from our original 65 persons to a mere 19, but are now not only permitted but required to sustain that number (please send a replacement for Sister Ronivus who bears this letter; I recommend her most highly, but she has been much traumatized and I think would greatly enjoy spending the remainder of her days in cities; if that replacement should happen to be more fluent than I in the language of the elves, that would be of benefit to us), and allocated sufficient land and other resources to do so. And no more, so our hopes of housing refugees from the war must be dismissed.

Now to explain to you how this came about.

You did warn us that our attempt to establish a religious community in the Feywild would be met with resistance of sorts we could not imagine. Sadly, you were quite correct, although we do not know the nature of the Presences commanding that resistance.

It seemed the very land has opposed us. Sister Irulene died when the poles from which her cot was made rose up and wrapped themselves about her in the manner of great constrictor-snakes. Brother Amanor was plowing for our garden, and both he and the plow suddenly sank deep into the ground as if it were water, until only the good brother's head remained to be seen; we rushed over to try to pull him out, but the earth around him was just as suddenly firm like dried clay, so close about him that he could not breathe, and he suffocated well before we could free him.

Often we felt that inimical creatures gathered around our small settlement. Of those who went to investigate, few returned, and those few are nearly bereft of wit and reason.

You may recall that Fras. Levantus and Jaliasa brought with them their son Cornus, hardly a year old when we set out upon this venture. He plays an important but not-yet-clear role, as I shall relate.

Two months past, it seemed that the Presences which oppose us here were drawing to the point of decisive action which we doubted to survive. And when the moment came, it was as if a tide of fey and natural monsters sought to sweep us away. Beasts such like I cannot describe shall haunt our nightmares for some months, I doubt not, with the blood of our brothers and sisters spattered across their hides.

In the first minute, half of our remaining number fell to jaws, tentacles, stingers, and claws. 

And Cornus chose that moment, as toddlers will, to escape the reach of his minder and go running. Directly toward the oncoming monsters. 

Several more of us, including both his parents, lost our lives in that moment of distraction.

Then a great wolf bounded over the oncoming beasts to confront the child.

And, rather than devouring him, turned around and howled. 

At once the monstrous horde withdrew, leaving only the few that we had slain in our defense.

In light of our depleted numbers, we sought to abandon our settlement and return to the natural world, but it was made plain to us that the attempt would be opposed by those same creatures responsible for our plight.

And we have hardly been troubled by a beast since, save that great wolf. It comes in the dark of night and sleeps near Cornus' bed - woe unto any door that blocks its way - until near the dawn, and often comes again during the day. It seldom deigns to acknowledge the presence of adults, save that it did once drag in a small deer-like creature which it had killed, and present it to Brother Labavis our cook.

We have since been able to plow for crops, but fey beasts of frightful visage mark our boundaries and we find it prudent to not press beyond the point at which they show challenge after the fashion of similar natural beasts.  Our allotment thus determined is sufficient to sustain our surviving numbers and put up some reserve, so I fear not for our survival; however we could not support any increase in our numbers.

There is one more event of note. A week past, a strange creature came to us. It is like unto an elf, and speaks the language of elves (which I have some small knowledge of); but it is small, not so long as my arm from wrist to elbow, and has wings the size of my hands with fingers spread wide, with which it does fly as its normal method of travel. This creature is by its own decree now a teacher to young Cornus (currently, I believe, teaching him the elven tongue), and does also grudgingly consent to speak with me regarding our situation here.

The winged creature, if I understand correctly (as I have said, my knowledge of Elvish is limited), says that we are required to retain this settlement until Cornus completes his training, after which we will be permitted to remain or to abandon it according to our will. It is by negotiation with this small person that I am permitted to send Sister Ronivus with this letter, but she is counted among our number and must be returned or replaced before a second messenger is allowed.

I do not pretend to have any idea why this strange land's Presences are interested in Cornus, or what their plans for him might be. 

And so it stands, my brother in both blood and faith. Blessings unto you and all who aid you. 
-- Sister Merisus 
"The world does not work the way you have been taught it does. We are not real as such; we exist within The Story. Unfortunately for you, you have inherited a condition from your mother known as Primary Protagonist Syndrome, which means The Story is interested in you. It will find you, and if you are not ready for the narrative strands it will throw at you..." - from Footloose
Holy cow! That was...that was incredible! Oh my gosh, I would love to play that character. Man, you've got real talent. I'll probably change his name, but lordy, that's perfect. It really pulls all the elements together that I'd wanted. You sir (madam?), just earned yourself a cookie. :D
Yeah, I had to name the kid something, and probably should have named the pixie and the wolf.

(The pixie has a long name - at least five syllables, one word. Or that's what seems right to me. The wolf has two names: a short one used casually and in close proximity, and a long one that must be howled. The long one is basically a personal history, and changes - if you happen to understand wolf-howl. Wolves enjoy passing stories around.)

(Darn. These things just keep welling up. I wish I could get them to well up for the two books I'm trying to write.)

But tweak as necessary. Or pick a few ideas that you like out of it. Or do something else entirely.

949 words - not bad for about an hour and a half.


"The world does not work the way you have been taught it does. We are not real as such; we exist within The Story. Unfortunately for you, you have inherited a condition from your mother known as Primary Protagonist Syndrome, which means The Story is interested in you. It will find you, and if you are not ready for the narrative strands it will throw at you..." - from Footloose