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Dorw: Dharc Dark Pact: He had a happy life, living with his parants in waterfront. They wern't the most popular people in the town, but they had roots there and they wern't totaly distrusted. One day however, Dharc returned home to see a bloody mess of the house, with his father and mother murdered and lieing on the floor. The Merderer was still there, and looked right at him. Dharc was pretrified. Not able to controle his body, he ran, and ran far. After he arived at the local Church of (diety) he yelled for help, and e was given shelter, and aid. He was raised by them, but he was haunted by the imegas of his parents.

He swar revenge on the people that killed his parantes, and feels he has support from his family. (this is acturaly a stroy I used, but it was a Multiclass feat I used with Cleric main. However, still couns, right?)

UberMike wrote:

Of course, his dreams are still occasionally interrupted with infernal sales pitches and he fears that his patron might not be strong enough to protect him.

If you want a truely better warlock pact
My pact's the one for you and that's a fact
My price is low - I trimmed the fat,
Dark Blessing'll keep you commin' back,
Go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal!

I'm currently working on building my first Warlock myself, (I posted an aid for help in the Striker's Forum if anyone is interested), but I have the character concept itself all thought out;

Warlock; An internally separated character suffering from dual-personality disorder, leading him to aspiring goals of conflicting nature within similar guidelines. On the one hand he is driven to survive and hoard (treasure, knowledge, ect.) and will do so by any means necessary. On the other hand, he is driven to sacrifice and defend/protect those whom he calls allies (and the 'entire Teifling race as well'), within the twisted logic that pain = protection. In this particular case, the use of infernal powers against himself in order to empower himself so that he may protect and defend his allies through self sacrifice by allowing himself to crush enemies at a greater speed, rate and level of destruction. Nice logic of protection on that one.

The pact Warlock made was with an ancient devil who long slumbered in the depths of the Nine Hells, imprisoned as it were by Asmodeus himself. This devil had long been an aid to the original devils that made a pact with the ancient Empire of Bael Turath, the birthplace of the Tieflings. By daring to explore the forbidden depths of this ancient knowledge, Warlock has made a pact with this devil to grant him power in exchange of his lifeforce to free the devil from his infernal, torturous prison.

With a small orb of lifeforce given as part of the Pact, this devil slowly consumes Warlock very soul as he grows stronger so that he may free himself. Warlock now lives a very shortened life, one in which he never knows when the ultimate answer of the rest of his lifeforce will be called upon, and fears that he may not complete his goals of freeing himself and his race from this ancient curse. Always the devious plotter though, Warlock is already plotting ways to break free of his devilish master, yet still maintain the power he wields.

Only time will tell if his goals succeed. ... Or if he die before they even begin.

I haven't made a character for this yet, but someone here made this amazing background for me.

The Beginning

As a young man(or woman) growing up you always seemed odd to everyone. Not unpleasant, nor scary.... just different. You bobbed your head to music that no one could hear and when you walked you always seemed to be slightly dancing. You rarely looked people in the eyes, your own sliding around the surrounding in constantly roaming interest. When people talked to you they were surprised that you always knew what was going on. This didn't prevent the thought that you just didn't exist on the same level as everyone else.

The elders of the town worried briefly about you, but since the children and animals all loved you this faded with time. The fact that you clearly had a sense of right and wrong didn't hurt either. Many times townsfolk have been flabbergasted when in passing you pierced right to the hear of their problems, never slowing from your dancing little half-step.

The Truth and the Pact

No, you just weren't the same as other people. You moved all over the town at seemingly random intervals leaving behind little carvings and abstract wall paintings before you go.

But you know the truth! Life is music! Life is dance! You walk through the town and watch the people go about their lives, heedless of the overlying beat and rhythm their actions weave into one another. You smile the whole time, dancing to the sound of the simplistic beauty their lives create.

One night something amazing happened. As you walked through the woods overlooking the town you came across a grassy hill poking bare up through the trees with the exception of the large rock at it's crown. Shadows popped out from strange angles and light seemed to come from odd places. The mood of this image so moved you that you did something for the first time in your life.

You sang.

Singing, you danced across the field coming to circle the stone. And as you waved your arms in time with your song the stars shone brightly with weird light. Slowly at first, as though taking a while to hear you and respond, they sang back. Your music met and meshed and the dance took on new steps.

Out of this celestial chorus individual chords and voices could be heard. They sang to you, calling you. Some were loud with arrogant superiority, others cackled like blood burbling over smooth rocks. You danced away smiling from their sound, around the streams of light outstretched like grasping hands.

Another voice came then. Glowing out from an almost invisible star on the horizon it wove itself around and through your dance. Fire danced inside your veins as you jumped on top of the rock and began to spin around and around. Your voice grew strength and over time the other musics faded back into the night sky. For unknown hours you sang and danced on that lonely hill.

In the morning you slowly strolled into town. You knew not what had happened the night before. No one else could comprehend the melding of minds, the understanding that took place. You smiled softly.

The Pact was made.

Leaving Town

Several days later found you humming in the streets. The villagers went about their business with no thought for the future. But you knew something was going to happen. Later that day a group of adventurers came to town. You watched them from the alley ways, obsessed with their vitality. They shone like fire and the rhythm of the town changed to allow for their existence. The group stayed the night at the town inn and left early the next morning. No one was surprised to find you gone.

They would have been a lot more surprised if they had heard the soft, playful music coming from an unseen point on the horizon.