She is simply known as the Ilse Witch (pronounced ILL-sah), a sorceress untouched by time and a past spanning millennia. Born Nimue, she was the youngest of three fey sisters of great power. She was of the Earth itself; a nymph deeply rooted in the Elder magicks of nature. Called Keeper of the Sacred Grove by druids, Nimue tended both her forests and her mortal charges with a firm but gentle hand. She loved to look up at the moon and stars to divine the future. The eldest sister is Vivienne of the Lake, an undine of great power. Concerned only with the mysteries of the universe, she cared little for mortals. The middle sister, Fata Morgana, is the most infamous of the three. She is a fickle and cruel creature, who enjoys plaguing mortals with her wicked schemes. But it was her rivalry with a great tiefling conjuror named Myrrdin and his “puppet” king that made her a legend.
She is human with a faint trace of her fey heritage, so I used the half-elf stats but made her look human. She has long, lustrous hair of midnight black and eyes of vibrant green. She uses a sickle as an implement, the same one she used for rituals when she was Nimue. It glimmers with captured moonlight, as it was infused with moonfire during her pact ceremony.
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Feylock I wrote up the other day for my friend's campaign. Haven't had the chance to play her yet, but I thought I'd throw her in here and see what you all think.
 Basically, she escaped from her abusive husband and made a pact with an ancient fey. She wanted to be powerful enough to remain independent. The ancient fey had its demands, one of which was, "To never be forgotten." I designed her powers around that concept. Her appearance I designed around the modern Venetian Carnevale costumes. She wears a full dress and mask any time she's not alone, even into combat. Appearance: She may be a woman of small stature, but with her back straight, shoulders squared, and head held high, she commands respect (or fear) greater than men twice her size. Regardless of people's attitude or opinion of her, everyone tends to do as she says, and folks are less likely to lose their temper when in her presence. She wears elaborate and elegant dresses that flow around her as if they are actively trying to conceal her presence. A beautiful mask covers her face, well built and artistically crafted. The mask is pale white in color, with images of leaves, flowers, and butterflies painted in hues of green and blue, the same colors as the lips. Beneath the mask and dress, she has long auburn hair and pale green eyes, with high cheek bones and slightly pointed ears, as evidence of her elven ancestry. Her contract with the fey is written upon her skin, starting right above her eyes and spiraling down her body ending at her toes on her right foot, as if a thin sash were wrapped around her body a handful of times. The letters are the pale green color of moss, about an inch tall, and written in a language long forgotten. Only a handful of individuals have ever seen her contract. Powers: Every time she activates a power, her contract slightly warms up, starting at her feet, as if drawing the power from the ancient fey within the earth. Misty Step: When she steps, autumn leaves in a misty fog scatter as if a swift wind had just hit; fog and leaf alike swiftly fly to where she reappears. Shadow Walk: Her dress seems to take in the shadows of an ancient forest, making it more difficult for one to determine just exactly where she is. Warlock's Curse: With a slight flick of her hand, or a quick glance of her eyes, she induces a curse upon an enemy. Whether or not her enemies can feel her curse, or even know it's upon them, she has yet to care. Eldritch Blast: Part of her pact with the ancient fey, barely remembered, was for it to never be forgotten. It granted her the ability to draw upon the essence of its memories, but with old memories comes old pain, which the recipient of this blast feels distinctly. Eyebite: You can't see her eyes, but you get the distinct impression that she is looking directly at you. You can't look away as those black eyes slowly start to consume you and everything around you. Everything is gone. Where are you? “Oh, Gods!” you cry out, “My head! The pain!” And then it all stops, and you're back where you were. What seemed like an eternity was just barely a moment. Everything's the way it was, except she's no longer there. Witchfire: “You want to know why people sometimes scream when under my glare? I will tell you. Fire once scoured the world, at the cost of many a fey life. I simply allow them to understand the pain the fey went through. It is not my fault that the memories are sometimes too painful to bear.” Curse of the Dark Dream: “Tell me, Mistress Aliuenna. In the heat of battle, you are able to make my enemy turn, this way and that, so he may fall to my blade. How is it that you do this?” “Well, my young friend,” her words come forth from behind the mask, lips unmoving, “The ancient fey want to be remembered, and I simply allow for that to happen. I conjure visions of the ancient times, before the dawn of man, elf, or dwarf, when the world was deadly and dangerous. The ancient fey then come out to play, and my thoughts help guide their ploys.” Background Story (Long): Show Her name is Rilia. She grew up the daughter of a rich merchant who owned multiple shops and stores of various trades. She never knew her mother, as she died when Rilia was very young, as her father tells her. As a young child, her two favorite stores to hang out in were the blacksmith's shop, because the long bearded dwarf that worked there, Dolthen, was really nice and let her watch, and the dressmaker's shop, because the elven seamstress, Calvara, let her help when everyone else was ignoring her as a child underfoot. She loved playing with and trying on all the dresses the nobles had ordered for their daughters.. It was from these two that she learned to speak dwarvish and elven. She grew up well mannered (in polite company) and decently educated for a merchants daughter. She was always very polite and charismatic as the dinner parties her father hosted. And although her relationship with her father wasn't the closest, she did learn a thing or two watching him work. Her father business dealings taught her the subtleties of the business and political world, like how to tell when someone is lying to you, and how to use simple words and gestures to get what you want. She was an excellent pupil, and her natural beauty only added to this. By the time she was a teenager, she had control of the neighborhood. She could easily control the young men with her beauty and quick words, especially if a promise of a future kiss was given with a half smile. The girls she controlled through fear or respect, or some combination of the two, depending on who it was. Some, who struggled, she helped. She would teach this girl how to dress (often by having some boy steal a dress for the younger girl to wear), and how to walk to be noticed. Another girl she would blackmail with a dirty secret the girl didn't want to get out. Either way, fear or love, she had control. All the older folks in her community loved her little charms, and she was always the most polite and caring person they had ever met. Regardless of what anyone thought, no one could deny that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the kingdom. At 15, her world changed. She was told that she would be marrying a Duke. It was a political move, her fathers attempt to gain political power and standing. She understood. She more than understood. She was going to be a Duchess. She was going to be nobility. She was ecstatic. The only thing better, she thought, was to marry one of the King's sons, but you have to be a Noble first, possibly even Royalty. She enthusiastically accepted her new title: Duchess Rilia. Six months into the marriage, she found nobility to be quite different than what she had imagined. The duke treated her like a prized trophy: one to be kept locked up so only he may see it. Which he did. Often. He only let her out of her quarters at the manor house when they had to officially show up to the king's yearly social balls, or when he had political company over. At the first ball, she learned everything she could. At the second, she manipulated her way into a position of power. She tried to use this power to gain her freedom. The duke discovered her ploy. She was beaten. By the third ball, she started pleading with the other noblewomen. They were no use. Finally, she called on her father for help. Once he heard of how she was treated, he demanded the duke to release her. Within the week, she heard news of a horrible tragedy: her father had been killed. Years passed. She gained the trust of her servants, she opened a secret communication to her old elven mentor, Calvara, via letters, and set up a plan to have herself “kidnapped” at the next King's Ball. During the wait, Calvara, sent her papers of rites and rituals to summoning an ancient fey so may gain the power she would need to gain independence. The was a problem. The ritual must be performed in an ancient forest. There was no ancient forest in the manor proper. She spent the next year memorizing it. Everyday she would read it. She started writing it anew. She started writing it backwards. She burned every copy she owned. Everyday, she would write the ritual twice. Once forwards, once backwards. She would burn the copies. The time had come for her to enact her plan. It was the King's seventh ball since her marriage. The kidnapping went perfectly according to plan. Nearly. She noticed something wrong. The men were familiar. They were the Duke's men. He knew of her plan. He let it happen. He wanted her gone. The kidnappers took her to the old elven forest. They made camp. They kept her. They raped her. They moved on. They took her with them. Months passed. Other women were kidnapped as well. She saw them come and go. Some were traded off as slaves. Others were killed. Others attempted to escape. She never saw them again. Did they make it? Were they killed? More months passed. One night, she escaped. She initiated the ritual she knew from memory. She made a deal with an ancient fey spirit. The fey spirit had demands. It wanted to be remembered. It wanted blood. It wanted the taste of flesh long forgotten. She agreed. She gave it flesh. Her flesh. It took her and had its way. It ravaged her body. It ravaged her mind. It bathed in her memories. It took her in ways she didn't know possible. She took it. She didn't cry. She would endure. She would do whatever necessary. The first deal was complete. It gave her power. Power she had never felt before. A power that filled her soul. She returned to the camp. The men were still there. She killed one. Then another. A third was killed before the rest knew she was there. She made herself seen. They took the bait. She ran. They took chase. She lead them back to the site of the ritual. She summoned these new found powers from within and she killed them. Violently. All of them. She nailed them to the trees and flayed their skin open, their blood dripped to the earth. The second deal was complete. She had earned its trust. She was given more power. Power she could feel crackling behind her eyes. The pact was nearly complete. The fey spirit drew up into form, earth made mud from blood soaked ground formed a humanoid shape, fallen leaves made up its skin, flowing vines became hair, and an ancient fey power barely seen by mortals glowed forth as pale green eyes. The final contract was written up on the bark in an ancient fey tongue no living mortal remembers. The last deal to be completed when she signs. She agreed. It drew a finger across her arm, her blood dripped forth from the wound. When her blood reached her fingertips, she signed the contract. The words glowed green with power and flew off the bark, swirling into the air. They surrounded her, like fairies and sprites in the wind. They consumed her. She screamed, a scream of pain and joy beyond any she had ever felt. It seemed to last an eternity. It stopped. She is alone. No sprites, no letters in the air, no ancient fey spirit. Only her, and the bodies of the dead men on the trees, their blood still splattered across her flesh. She looked down at her naked body. She saw the letters of the contract inscribed onto her skin, in the same pale green color that were the eyes of that ancient fey. The letters start at her right temple, go down across her nose, to the back of her neck, over her right shoulder, her chest, around her back, across her waist, down her right thigh, and ends at her toes. Large letters, two fingers width, worn like a thin sash wrapped around the body four times. She cannot read the contract, but she knows every word, every letter, every meaning. She walked back to the camp. She released the other captives. She grabbed equipment: clothes, soap, backpack, etc.. She searched for a lake. She washed the blood off her. The contract cannot be washed off. It was there to stay. The ancient fey would not be forgotten. Not by her. The third part of the deal was complete. She grabbed clothes from the bag. They didn't fit, but they would do. She concealed herself under the cloak. She returned to Calvara, her mentor. She wasn't there. The shop had been burnt down. It was burnt down months ago. The children on the street told her a witch lived there, a woman who made pacts with demons and devils. An old man told her the woman was arrested. The tavern owner down the street told her that some duke had the placed burned down. She hunted down Dolthen. She found him working at the same blacksmith's shop. He had inherited it from her father. His loyalty to the family was always strong. Dolthen had things for her. Things left by her father. Things left by Calvara. They were locked in separate chests. Dolthen gave her the key for one. “The other,” he told her, “may only be opened with the power of the fey.” He didn't know what it meant, but he was told by Calvara that she would know. She accepted the key. She accepted the offering of a room. She had the chests delivered to her room. She opened her father's chest first. It was full of old documents of his business. Papers on finances. He left a will. Dolthen got the smith's shop. Calvara got the seamstress' shop. A few others earned their own businesses that her father help set up. She got everything else. The manor, the money, the business. Everything. The papers were dated the week her father died. He must have known the Duke would have him killed. She vowed revenge. Calvara's chest was next. There were no locks. There seemed to be no seams. Headed Dolthen's words, she invoked her new powers. She focused them on the chest. It opened. Inside were stacks of books and scrolls. Arcana. This must have been why they claimed her witch. They were wrong. They used it to erase her trace to the Duke. More revenge. Power crackled within her. She became calm. She grabbed a book from the chest. She read until she fell asleep. She spent the next several months studying the books and scrolls from Calvara. She never left the shop. She was afraid she would be recognized. She didn't want Dolthen to get hurt. When she wasn't poured over a book or scroll, she was applying her studies to her powers. As time passed, she became more confident with herself. She started to venture out at night. She would travel to the other side of the city, to test her powers on some unsuspecting thug. More months passed. One night, she was almost recognized. Outside a tavern. A girl from childhood. Not one who loved her. The girl recognized the beauty. Rilia quickly returned to Dolthen's. She would need something better than the night to hide her face. She would need something to give her a new identity. Rilia called upon Dolthen to build her a disguise. A Mask. Like the one's worn by nobles in the old kingdoms, of ancient times. The one's Calvara used to tell her about as a child. A mask to hide her face, to hide her pact. A new face. She drew upon her father's funds. She had dresses made to match the mask. She had Dolthen's men pick them up for her. The mask was finely crafted Dwarven steel. Light weight. Very durable. The dresses were sturdy. Strong. Flexible. Capable of being worn in the ancient elven forest. These were her specifications. The mask was painted in fey design. It became her new face. The dresses became her new skin. They felt comfortable. Like a second skin. She would no longer be recognized by anyone. No one would know of her pact. No one who wanted to live. A new name, as well, she realized. A name flashed across her mind. She didn't wish it there. She didn't will it there. It came of its own accord. It came of fey accord. Aliuenna, it whispered. Aliuenna. She left everything with Dolthen. All her inheritance. All her money. All her land. It was time to hide Duchess Rilia. Hide her behind a new face. A face with a new name: Aliuenna. And in the night the Duke awoke with a start, the sweat of fear dripping down his face. Two words echoed in his mind, “I'm coming.” 
Haha, your character and mine would get along FAMOUSLY, msghamster! A former duchess and former country bumpkin. Both fey women of hard hearts and fiercer power. Most delicious, my preciousss. :evillaugh
This is what my character would look like were she to wear a mask. 
I have a Chaotic-aligned Hobgoblin fey-pact warlock.
His name is Ghrout, and he is mildly possessed by the entity that he made his pact with. It is an aspiring primordial demigod (Culthis) embodied by shimmering blue flame that occasionally wisps from it's host body (Ghrout). Ghrout's left eye has been replaced with a gem slightly larger than his normal eye that contains the spirit of his blueflame fey patron. The blue fire constantly radiates from this eye socket. Ghrout has pale orange skin and unruly hair that is longer in the middle, where it draws to a point in the back. His goblinoid nose is scarred. While he shares a muscular build with most Hobgoblins, Ghrout draws his power from an arcane source and is therefore more nimble and lithe than others. He is about 6'1" and 140lbs. Ghrout wears tight and worn leather armor suitable for a thief (with a hood that he never wears). He has a small standard adventurer's backpack. Across his belt, he carries a set of thieves tools, rope, and several survival tools, as well as assorted pouches. At first blush, he appears to be a rogue, at least until he begins shooting pale blue eldritch blasts from his clawed fists. He wields a shortspear whose blade is curved like a flame. It actually serves as his pact blade. Ghrout wears no gloves or shoes (they interfere with the channeling of his arcane energy). He does, however, sport an iron wrist manacle on the same wrist that he holds his spear with, as well as an iron collar. These are remnants from his younger days, when his tribe shackled him until they needed to use him in battle. Eldritch Blast (Touch of Culthis): Every shot causes a faint aura of shimmering blue flame to envelop Ghrout's arm. and the blast itself consists of whirling tendrils of fire that fly in the erratic style of lightning bolts. Eyebite. The larger (gem) eye burns blue furiously, while the normal eye recedes into a pupil-less pool of black. A hit enemy recoils and shoots blue sparks out of it's eyes (if it has them). The primordial voice of his patron murmurs and laughs audibly. Ghrout fades from the sight of his victim in a flash of sparks. Witchfire: Similar to eyebite, but Ghrout points at his intended target and their head erupts in a corona of bluefire. Flames of Phegethos (Flames of Culthis): As described in the handbook, but the rivulets of flame are the appropriate blue color. Misty Step (Burning Step): Ghrout dissolves into blue flames from the feet up, then reappears in the reverse at his intended destination. When spending an action point afterwards, he sometimes jumps into his dissolve and then reappears above his enemy, plunging the spear into them from above. Shadow Walk: The image of Ghrout wavers like the heat lines from a mirage. Bluefire hovers around his blurred outline.
Not actually mine, but one of my players. She was a Halfling Druid in 3.5, while trying to figure out how to explain no more druids in 4E I though, "What if the God of nature was killed?"
So she loses all her druid magic, her wolf runs off, she's got nothing. Then the Fey shows up and says, I'll give you power if... She looks the same, still wears her Druid gear, she's just got a slightly crazed look now (byproduct of losing everything then getting Fey power shoved in your head) Her spells play up her obsession with regaining her druid powers, and her affinity with nature. Her Eldritch Blast and Witchfire take the forms of fast growing vines of fire. Her Curse of the Dark Dream throws them into the middle of a tainted forest (her worst nightmare)
Cool thread, I was waiting for something like this
As for my own version of the warlock, I ended up envisioning something between a Cthulhu-Mythos scholar-astrologer, and an Eldar Farseer :D His adventures thus far have been punctuated by visions during his trances or his studies of the sky, even occasionally interrupting him in the middle of a battle, as when he uses his Fey Step to move from place to place-- for some reason his talents don't take him through the Feywild, but through the void between worlds and realities... May I present to you, Soreth Wintersky, Eladrin Star Pact Warlock :] A short background and physical description Show History: Hailing from a family line of arcanists and mages, Soreth turned his mind to the study of history and astrology along with his arcane education. In doing so he became more and more interested in the patterns he saw throughout past events, mirrored at times by the patterns of the stars and other celestial bodies above, and the dire predictions that accompanied them. Over time, his studies turned from interest to obsession, ultimately leading him to unsettling theories: ...That the cosmos itself was almost an entity unto itself, perhaps sentient, but in a way incomprehensible to mortals... That there were entities that dwelt between and beyond the stars--some friendly, some hostile, but mostly, inchoate and unconcerned with lesser beings as much as one might pay attention to an ant on a hill on the other side of the world... That the stars, and other celestial bodies were themselves aware and powerful in some way... that the patterns between the stars carried their own terrible purpose... and other, stranger ideas besides... In discovering these ideas, Soreth learned to channel the forces gathered not only by these entities, but by the very ideas of their existence, and of the forces of fate and portent. Offering himself as a conduit for this power, he has made a pact to channel these dire energies, but at what cost he is not yet sure. Perhaps he must act as an agent of fate itself, or find, create, or destroy something important. Perhaps it is as complex as observing the flow of events around him, keeping a journal and recording every one of his dreams, and finding the perfect time for when the stars are right, to make use of that knowledge. Perhaps it is as simple as breaking a random small object, or hindering or helping someone only briefly, just long enough to affect everything else that should follow. Even he himself is unsure; the entities, powers and agencies that might be out there have yet to tell him in any direct, meaningful fashion. Perhaps they never will. But if they do, what would they say? What would it mean? And could anyone, even he, truly endure that understanding? Physical Description: This young Eladrin male is very tall and long-limbed, even for one of his people. His skin is pale, with narrow angular features, and very long ivory-white hair. His eyes are an opalescent midnight blue-on-blue, the color of a deep evening sky. He wears a set of close-fitting, flexible leather armor, and over it, a dark cloak and set of open-fronted robes dyed in shades of blue, trimmed in silver, gold and white. His armor and clothing are decorated with a variety of semiprecious stones, and astrological and mystical symbols. Along with his satchel and pouches of supplies and arcane components, he wears a sword-belt; sheathed in its silver-trimmed leather scabbards are an elegantly forged longsword and dagger. Soreth carries himself confidently, long-fingered hands absently toying with one of his various astrological devices or prediction tools. When not handling an object or wielding a weapon, they occasionally, almost involuntarily flex and crook into arcane gestures. Unless he is gazing at the stars or at a book or chart, he constantly glances this way and that, as if thoughtfully seeking something that seems to be missing. At times his gaze lingers too long and too intently upon something or someone, which can be a little unsettling for a living subject. A few descriptions of his powers... Show Eldritch Blast: Soreth thrusts out a hand, fingers bent into a cabalistic gesture toward his intended mark. Crackling lines of cold purplish light arc through the air like lightning, lashing viciously at the target. Dire Radiance: Reaching skyward with a clutching hand, Soreth brings down his fist forcefully, shouting a harsh arcane syllable. Brilliant light streaks from the sky above, seeming to come precisely from one star or another, wreathing his victim in its radiance. Away from an open sky, the burning light seems to issue from the very air around the target itself. Dreadful Word / Warlock's Curse: Soreth gazes intently at his target, and in an unknowable language, carefully but firmly pronounces a single word meant only for his victim. The air grows heavy with its power, and his opponent cries out in horror as the understanding of its meaning. Dread Star: Softly chanting the name of a distant, nearly unknown star, Soreth calls down its light, watching it collect into a glowing sphere that hovers over his palm. He uncurls his fingers in the direction of his opponent, and the miniature star drifts lazily, almost ominously, toward them. Arcs of light like solar flares lance outward from its surface, searing his target. Shadow Walk: Inky darkness, like the emptiness between the stars, wells up around Soreth with each step he takes, cloaking him in the very essence of night and briefly concealing him from view. Fey Step: Shadows ripple and elongate around Soreth; within them stars glimmer in the strange patterns of unknown constellations. In the blink of an eye, he disappears into this void, reappearing moments later nearby as the darkness once again retreats and the points of starlight fade with it. Fate of the Void: As his opponent collapses to the ground, unconscious or dead, shadows and shards of light leap from the body to Soreth's hand. A tiny star shines in his palm before he closes his hand, smiling slowly and ominously as the light flickers in his night-coloured eyes. Ethereal Stride: Soreth takes a step forward and his form blurs, hidden by streaks of shadow and void as reality ripples around him. He disappears into the void, then reappears a short distance elsewhere. The darkness clings protectively to him for awhile before it fades, blowing away behind him like smoke in a gust of wind. And a brief vision amid battle; a guide to his fate, or the tugging of a puppeteer's hand on his strings? Show Soreth shakes his head hard to clear the ringing from his ears, lying flat on his back after being hurled there by the hobgoblin mage's arcane blast. Around him as his hearing returns, he can hear the sounds of fighting, and to his right Borstal and Lyra struggle to pull themselves upright from their tangled heap and rejoin the conflict. Harsh light flares in front of him as the hobgoblin raises a hand, weaving a new spell, while one of his goblin henchmen close in, weapons brandished to cut off any escape.
"Not every escape..." Soreth's mouth bends in a knowing smile, and shadows elongate and enfold him. His indrawn breath is cold, tainted by the depths of the void between the stars, and he falls into the space between spaces--- He hovers in the void, caught between moments and places, and around him stars glitter like diamond dust, their size and distance unfathomable. Are they unreachable and colossal, their pinprick fires so tiny because of distance? Or are they all around him, like motes of dust in a sunbeam... and what does that make of him, then? His senses awhirl, in this moment trapped in time like an insect in amber, his sight lingers on a distant and flaring sun in a corner of the cosmos before him. As he concentrates on the star, silently raging in the dark sky, something ...moves... in the depths of the night near this little light, indistinct. Is it tiny like the stars, or enlarged as his senses? Or both and neither? The star bends to its will, and suddenly flares with a brilliant painful light, casting off a layer of its fire like a cloak spun out in all directions. The pulse washes outward, and for a moment, even tinier pinpoints of light show in the depths, as the outflung fire cascades over a handful of dead worlds spinning silently around the lethal star, long charred to cinders in its fiery bursts. Life as he can conceive it does not exist on those worlds, if it ever did at all. The entity's notice lifts from the poisoned star and the dead worlds caught in its grip, and he hopes the shadows of far night hide him well enough to escape its notice. Yet the presence moves closer, veiling the stars with its unknowable form, and he enfolds the night around him like a cloak, as it draws closer, to greet or to strike... ---and tumbles a short distance through the air to land in a rough crouch. The roaring silence of the void is replaced anew by the sounds of battle, and before him stands the hobgoblin, facing out into the hallway where his companions await. Shadowy streaks of the cold void cling to him like armor as Soreth arises, and the--- memory? vision? hallucination?--- of the deadly star and its watching presence returns to him. He flings out an arm, driven as much by instinct and other, ineffable forces as by his own will. The hobgoblin turns, eyes narrowed, then widening in shock as the Eladrin hisses out a string of arcane syllables. Fate bends against the mage's favor, then is sealed, as a replica of that burning, seething star flares into life in Soreth's hand, then hurtles across the room. This time the entire star casts itself into its erupting blast, giving up all its radiance in a series of arcing flares, searing the hobgoblin with blinding, killing light as it goes nova. As the mage's body collapses to the floor, as dead as the worlds orbiting the star, Soreth hesitates. Shadows still cloak him protectively, drawn from the void between worlds and lights. Perhaps the presence watches still... Stepping over the hobgoblin's body as his companions gather themselves to continue the fight, he absently sweeps out a hand. Light and shadow flickers over the body, then shimmers in the warlock's eyes. A brief vision flickers in his mind: The star itself, rather than the conjured imitation in his hand, going nova, burning itself out in a final, violent light, blasting the orbiting worlds to nothingness and then winking out as darkness rushes to fill the emptiness. 'Was it a dream? ...A vision? ...A reality?' Still caught in his meditation, Soreth's head tilts at the sounds of continuing battle in the corridor beyond. The cloaking shadows fade from him as he steps forward, turning his concentration toward rejoining the fight. "I shall find the truth of it..." he murmurs softly, as the warlock moves to aid his companions.
Woah. Awesome battle description, dude.
I'm happy I've inspired a few of you with my gunslinger. I've written up a few more abilities; Cover Fire (Hunger of Hadar). When you need to keep an area enemy-free, or keep enemies bottled up, this is the way to do it. You concentrate your fire in a small area. Volley after volley of bullets tear their way through the space, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt, as well as persuading targets to keep their heads down. Moonstone Bullet (Infernal Moon Curse). Two shots, together more powerful than a dozen shots from any lesser gunman. While the sheer power of your first shot knocks your target into the air, it is your second shot that matters most. It is imbued with the energy of worlds beyond ours, where gravity works in different ways, if at all. This shot pins your hated foe in the air, as the essence of a different world corrupts and infects it. Sinister Samaritan (Shielding Shades). You become aware of an immediate threat a mere instant before it hits you. Your conscious mind does not have enough time to react, and you recognize your downfall. Fortunately for you, it is not yet your time. Your patron is not done with you yet. Reflex, training, and a powerful outside influence combine to bring your gun up and fire off a single shot. Your pure desperation and the interference of a greater power allow your shot to create a tear in reality, placed just so to absorb the effects of the attack. You live to fight on. Too Close For Comfort (Harrowstorm). Impossibly fast, you unload round after round of ammunition into your target, each shot precisely aimed to push him further and further off balance and, most importantly, further away from you. Finally, your assault slows, and the target finds itself cowering far further from you then when you started firing.
I love the Gun-Lock idea for character flavor
I'm curious, would the character's gun(s) always function (even if taken away? Or would they somehow... find their way back to him, a la Staff of Magius ?) How do you envision the powers/guns interacting with implements like Rods or Wands or Pact Blades?
Why thankee kindly. I'm more than a bit proud of it meself.
Thats one thing I've been discussing in the gunslinger's main thread (here). Because he'll always be able to use his powers, I couldn't justify tying them down to actual physical weapons. Also, the deal with ammo; its not like he's going to run out of at-will spells anytime soon, is he? He always has his guns when he needs them, simple as that. I figure if you don't try overthink it, you don't really have to worry about it. It can be explained like the staff, like a soulknife, however. The only thing that matters is that when he uses Eldritch Blast, or whatever power, he's pumping bullets out of his guns. As far as working with implements, I figure it like this; his implements are fancy guns. They don't work mechanically (as in literal mechanics, not rules), but they are actual physical representations of guns. They still don't need bullets, being powered by his magical ability. If you go into the thread, you'll see I'm trying to figure out a way to explain some of his stuff as using runed starmetal bullets; I think those will be twined with his physical implements, as opposed to his normal guns. I'll use this badass gunman as an example. The gun he is holding, along with the other in the hip holster, are his regular weapons. Those are the ones my gunslinger will *always* have, the ones that exist because of his power. The other two fancy ones on his chest would be the implements; shiny and pretty, they have special uses. But those ones can be taken away, while his plain ones cannot. Make sense? 
Kia'ar the Rose, my feylock, visited the feywild in his youth. While he learned much there, and absorbed a seed of its power, his soul and sanity were lost as he left the magnificent realm. Now, as he puts it "It is my power that lost me my mind, and my power which keeps me sane."
Kia'ar's attack flavor is loosely based off of the Bartimaeus Trilogy, if anyone was wondering. Eldritch Blast: Kia'ar waves his hand at the target, a bright green Detonation shoots from his fingertips, and the call of some creature alien to mortals can be heard softly radiating from him. Warlock's Curse: Kia'ar stares at his enemy, filling him with just one of the terrifying memories that replace Kia'ar's spirit. Eyebite: To the victim: A phantasmal beast rears up in front of him, gouging at his eyes as Kia'ar slips away into non-being. To the passerby: Kia'ar fires a simple Charm at the foe, who shreiks and writhes in pain. More to come later.
While my current hell-lock is pretty run-of-the-mill, the DM's homebrew setting has given me an awesome idea. In his setting, halflings control a country based off of the antebellum South. So if my current character kicks the bucket, my next character will be a halfing feylock hillbilly on the run from tax collectors. His implement will be an everfull jug of moonshine which he chugs every time he uses a power.
Since the game with my feylock hasn't started, I'm changing his patron from dryad to nymph, so of course since nymphs are water fey instead of tree fey, his powers are now reflavored! (new and improved!).
Roman has near limitless confidence in personal interactions, due to his connection with such a supremely beautiful being. Warlock's Curse: He looks at the victim and says "Hello, friend." and they find themselves suddenly trusting him more than they really should. Roman exploits that trust as an old friend once exploited his. (see Tiefling Feylock Background http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.ph … ht=feylock) Misty Step: Roman turns translucent and amorphous, as though completely made of self supporting water. He lashes out a pseudopod to his destination and the rest of his body flows to follow. Upon reaching the destination his body reforms and resolidifies, with him still smiling at delivering another creatures life essence to his mistress (I like the vision of the water flying 4' over the ground, instead of flowing over it). Shadow Walk: The mist that always follow him expands and intensifies, as his mistress protects him from his enemies blows. Eldritch Blast: A smile crosses his face and a blue bolt of enery shoots out of his wand (or palm should he be without implement at the time) but it does not fly straight. It twists and turns seeming to flow as a river, eventually impacting with a splash on the target (or on the ground or wall on a miss) Eyebite: With a wrathful scowl, he makes a viscious arc with his wand (or flattened hand without implement). The target sees Roman's nymph patron, similarly scowling where Roman stood in their vision. The beauty of the nymph damages their psyche, and they are forced to look away from the vision of beauty (and thus also Roman) until it fades. Witchfire: With a nonchalant gesture, all the victim's visible orifices begin exuding steam, as they are boiled alive in their own bodies. The heat dries out their eyes, bringing tears that hinder their aiming in combat. Curse of the Dark Dream: With a smile and a whispered word, his beauteous patron again puts herself in the target's vision, this time forcing them to look upon her, causing more psychic damage as they look upon her image. She beckons to them and they follow.
Level up updates, YAY!
I also added a description of how she levels up.
Infernal Warforge Warlock "Forged In Hellfire" Fih(fee)
This was used as one of my villians in game today and dear gods he almost took out the party's paladin and cleric. Eldrich blast was actualy unused in the whole fight. Hellish rebuke was a shot of 'alchemist flame' and greek fire that was pumped out of each of the two fingers by a bladder and bellows. Any time he was hit, it would jar the greek fire to spurt a little extra on them. Fiendish resiliance was described as him pulling on several hidden flaps against the wood and covering himself in sheet metal, thin enough to take a hit or two before flying off. Diabolic grasp was for flavor purposes only, described as him flinging his arm out, the shoulder seperating from the chest, the elbow seperating from the bicep, the wrist seperating from the forearm, and the fingers seperating from the palm, each in 10 foot incriments of chain. He lashed these around an opponent and wound the chain back in, jerking them to the side painfully before his arm reattached together again. Flames of Phlegethos Had the prevous hand of hellish rebuke split open at the palm and a heavy surge of the two liquids dump over the unfortunate. Fiery bolt Featured the warforged opening its mouth and spewing out napalm like a dragons breath over his foe and those nearby. Avernain eruption was much like the fiery bolt, Only insteaf he looked skyward and belched out his flames like a volcano, raining the napalm on all those around in a fountain of flame. His attacks were all about the fire damage against their reflexes. He wasent technicly defeated, but they took out his superrior so he grabbed her and ran, burning the trail behind him to make it harder for them to follow. 
I had an idea for a warforged starlock that I haven't gotten to play yet. The concept for him is that he was built by an ancient cabal of mystics who delved into the forbidden magic of the outer darkness. They made him with aberrant relics built into his body and incantations in alien tongues written on the interior surface of his carapace. Basically, his pact is an extension of his creators'.
He was never activated until recently, when a party of adventurers found him in an ancient ruin and managed to awaken him. He doesn't know how his powers work; only that he has them. Curse: His target just has the worst luck in dodging his blows, as he subconsciously reaches beneath the canvass of reality and tampers with the controlling forces that work behind the scenes of everyday life. Fate of the Void: When his target reaches 0 hp, there is a brief, half-imagined flash of cold starlight in his empty, metal eyesockets. The next time he does something, he does a disconcertingly good job of it. Shadow Step: He doesn't disappear; he just stops being there. The universe folds itself around him, excluding him from space and time and memory. When he resumes existence, he is somewhere else, and he has concealment while he slips subtly back into existence. Dire Radiance: The warforged's eyes glow like a pure, bright white, like the moon, but with an intensity greater than a the sun's, making him painful to look at. Of course, only his enemies can see the glow; his allies don't see anything happen at all. Eyebite: The target feels as if cold, sharp fragments of some alien metal have been shoved in his nostrils, throat, and eyes (producing the appropriate bleeding). The world spins around him, and the warforged no longer seems to be in it. Vampiric Embrace: The target is suddenly covered in radiation burns, his skin drying and cracking and hair falling out. The warforged moves as if energized by a new power source. Curse of the Dark Dream: The target's mind is invaded by an eldritch entity from beyond the stars. The victim sees a black starfield, with tentacles of solid darkness and orange fire writhing through the void, tearing at the insides of his mind, squirming in his skull and pulling at his thoughts and memories. Meanwhile, his body is covered in radiation burns from contact with the anathemic starbeast. 
New news on the warforged front: The players have come up with a new name for the warforged after their enounter with him. "He's like the a D&D terminator who burns you to death. *gasp* he's the Burninator!"
I like it and awarded 100 XP for their creativity.
Charred, melted - either way you can't go through its pockets.
Well, here's mine.
"Dralaek, the mentally absent starlock" Show When he speaks, his voice seems distant as if he's distracted by something off in the horizon. Rarely do the words he strings together bring a coherent thought, but those who party with him long enough learn to understand his warped sense of language, or the just ignore him. Sometimes his ramblings forge words of prophecy. Although his mind isn't entirely there, when it comes to battle he relishes in the thoughts of neutralizing all opposition. His slender frame, appears fragile but his dark horns protruding from his raven locks and brick red skin make others think twice. "Power Fluff" Show Warlock's CurseDralaek speaks a few short words of power, and the symbol of a star appears on the brow of the enemy. When Dralaek strikes true, the symbol flares up and sears the flesh of the cursed. When the pact boon is active, his eyes give off a cold blue light. Shadow Walk:As Dralaek moves through the battlefield, his figure becomes unclear as orbs of darkness surround his form. Eldritch Blast: Dralaek points his finger at a foe as small orb of dark energy appears and grows, seeming to absorb some of the light in the surrounding area. As it grows, forms of distant star formations and galaxies appear within the black depths. When it hits its mark, the stars shatter and separate in a soft shower of sparks. Dire Radiance:A soft red light falls down around Dralaek, encircling him. The light brightens and makes it way through the color spectrum to yellows and greens. It strikes at his enemy, then interposes itself between Dralaek and his foe. If the enemy moves closer, it intensifies into a vibrant violet light that strikes out again. Witchfire:Dark purple and black flames leap from the enemies eyes, hands and mouth as he screams in agony. Crown of Stars:A halo of small bright blue points of light encircle Dralaek's head. He gestures towards a foe and several of the lights assault the indicated enemy.
I had a concept for a Gnoll Star-lock. Essentially he was part of a small tribe of Far-Realm worshiping Gnolls. The tribe was run by Star-locks who worked like normal shamans would in a normal Gnoll village. He was the son of one of the higher ranking shaman. Unfortunately, when he had barely begun his studies, Yeenoghu worshipers began to gather for an invasion of a nearby human kingdom. Hundreds of thousands of Gnolls were gathering for a brutal war. One of their first acts of atrocity was against their own though. The Beast's shaman's lead purges against un-loyal or deviant tribes, and his was both. His family was murdered and sacrificed for Yeenoghu. He was made a slave, losing an eye in the struggle. When the armies lead by the Paladins of Bahamut in turn beat the Gnolls after a long and savage war, he was freed for a time, and then captured and made a slave again, only this time to the more merciful humans. He eventually buys his way to freedom.
Now, alone for the first time on the streets, he has no one to turn to for help. He garners no sympathy from anyone and none will even hire him for an honest effort, the scars are too fresh from the Gnoll war. He becomes a thief and then falls in with a young elven rouge who befriends him and teaches him the ways of a scoundrel. The two agree that society has become corrupt, and they both often fantasize about joining an infamous assassin's guild which brings justice to those who are beyond the law. Eventually, the elven rouge gets them both a chance. Together, they take the test to join the guild. Along the way they become seperated, but the Gnoll moves on. After overcoming three deadly challenges, he passes the test, only to learn that his only friend died along the way. Hardened even further against the world, he becomes a full fledged member of the guild, using a mixture of rouge acrobatics and warlock arcana to put an end to those who have brought justice upon themselves. Appearance: He's lithe for a Gnoll. Thin, and not tall for one of his race either. He is missing his left eye. In it's place seethes a cold blue ball of light that never stops shining unless he sleeps or wills it so. He wears a long ragged ink-black cloak that seems to shift around him. When he moves, his body seems to blur and take on unnatural angles. He seems to be in more places at once as he walks, and his countenance, when you can make it out, has an alien edge. When he walks in the darkness, his form is reduced to a swirling mass of unnatural black shapes. His claws and teeth seem to glow faintly with a blueish light. Attacks: His dire radiance manifests as a ray of cold blue light that blasts from his empty eye-socket, bathing his foe in a baleful glow. When attacking with eldritch blast, he swings either his blade or gestures with his rod, sending either a blade or a bolt of blue liquid lighting that cuts into his enemies. When he uses Dreadful Word, wisps of wriggling blue-white light slither from his mouth and worm around his face as he begins to mutter at an unnatural speed, both eyes locked on his target before it starts to scream. With Tendrils of Thuban, his body seems to bulge in unnatural angles, causing him to swell. With a horrid moan his skin seems to burst as writhing slime covered black tentacles burst from his back and stomach and burrow into the ground. The enemies begin to scream as horrid black tentacles burst from the ground underneath them and begin to burrow into their skin. When the attack ends, the tentacles fall off of his body and finish burrowing into his foes. Thats all I can think of at the moment. ~*~*~*~ I also had another concept for a rival starlock who was also a Bloodmage. When the battle started, he would carve open his flesh and trendils of blood and energy would burst from his woulds and crawl across his flesh like arcs of slow-moving lightning. Whenever he made and attack the blood would mic with his magic, wrapping his spells in thorny cords of blood and arcane energy. 
Well before I saw this I didn't really think about how my powers appeared.
I am going to play a ninjlock the first chance I get (when someone other than me DMs). Serene Chaos code name Dusk is a eladrin warlock who gained his powers when he was on the run from some law enforcers some where (Don't know anything about the settings yet) as he was running he fell off a cliff. He died. Some being taking the form of a displacer beast came to him and said something along the lines of I will let you live if you give me your beautiful skin. he said and the beast jumped into my body and he awoke, but his entire body was horribly scarred. This allowed for a few things first I found I had new powers next I would not have to be on the run anymore for no one would recignize me. he now wheres a mask anywhere he goes (and sometimes full body illusions if he can get them) and his body is entirely concealed in his clothing and armor. Eldritch blast. 2 types. A displacer beast tentacle reaches out from my shoulder and strikes the opponent (only within 3 squares) or black throwing stars. Eye bite. 2 types. He throws a black smoking bomb at the opponents face, it explodes in a dust cloud keeping him from its sight or pretty much the same thing with a tenticle like above except at the face or I do the same thing as I would do with my implament below in curse except over the eyes.. Shadow walk. Pretty much just like what a displacer beast looks like. Fey step mist step. Cloud of black Curse "(big cat roar)" "you will go well on my mantle" "(stare with cat eyes probably not visible or auditory but this is when he needs to be quite)" If my DM will allow it I will use a clawed gauntlet as my rod implament and when he curses someone he scratches at them leaving a mark on the opponents chest. more later because I do not know what other powers I will pick for Dusk. 
Well, while I haven't played since DMing on the 6th of June (was it that long ago?), I've had lots of ideas for characters. My favorite is my Dragonborn Infernalock Lark'jah of the Stormscale Clan. He wears chain armor (working on scale) and uses a Glaive as a weapon (though he's not proficient). Obviously, 1st level.
Eldritch Blast Lark'jah holds his Glaive like a Jaffa Staff weapon and a black bolt of flame courses down the haft and out the blade towards his enemy. Warlock's Curse Lark'jah holds his Glaive in one hand and points menacingly at his opponent, and a tongue of black flame licks up the blade of his Glaive and this dissipates in a puff of crimson smoke. Hellish Rebuke Lark'jah attacks the air before him with his Glaive, and as he does so, a crimson and black tongue of flame leaps from the edge of the blade and flies towards his target, exploding in a swirl of smoke and flame. Dragon Breath Lark'jah takes a deep breath through his nose, then breaths forth a cloud of black poisonous smoke. Armor of Agathys Tongues of black flames and crimson smoke curl around the links of his armor (or once he gets scale, seem to lick along the edges of the scales). Obviously, he has a black and red flame and smoke motif, channeled through his glaive. 
My flavour is my tiefling infernal lock named Kevenal, a sado-masochistic warlock who uses his own pain to inflict as much damage as he can on his enemies. Starting as a young initiate to an old wizard he began learning arcane magic but because of his naturally sadistic streak he broke away and began learning of his ancenstral infernal magic, making a pact with a demon to gain his power. THis however brought him back round to secretly studying the arcane again so that he could fine tune his infernal powers.
Unfortunately after years of sacrifcing his own mind and scarring his body to bring greater power he has left himself slightly mad, with the habit of muttering to himself, awake or asleep, and the joy of bringing his enemies pain often leaves him shouting out joyous sounds and incomprehensible death-threats and thirsting for more combat even after it is finished, ignoring his own wounds. He is studying the path of the bloodmage to make his own demonic pact more powerful. Warlock's curseExtending out both hands, palms out in the direction of the enemy he mutters the curse, making them bend over momentraily in pain as black smoke begins evaporating off them. The pain passes (atleast noticably) but the black smoke continues until they or he dies. Shadow walkAs he moves he covers himself in a flash of fire, leaving a burnt imprint on the viewer as he walks off unnoticed, delving into the shadows Eldritch Blast A dark aura surrounds one hand as he forms a fist with it, crackling and glowing holding it above his head and then bringing it down in a punching motion extending it far out in front; as he does a bolt of energy that looks like black lightning shooting out. Hellish RebukeMaking eldritch signs in the air, chains of fire appear around the victim, constricting and damaging them, flaring as they do. Vampiric EmbraceA dark purple/black shadow of himself leaps out of his body and onto his victim attaching itself to the victim and biting down and draining their energy. Flames of PhlegethosTwo balls of fire appear around his hands, throwing towards his enemy, as they hit they explode into streams of lava that cling and flow around the victim. MCMagic MissileConjuring up a light aura around his hand he brings them together and extends them outwards shootingout silver points of light. (the amount of missiles depends on the damage he does, one missile for each point of damage.)
So I've retrained a 1st level daily, swapping out Curse of the Dark Dream for Crown of Stars.
 First post updated.I've also decided to have the visual effects of my Warlock's Curse evolve through the tiers. Right now at heroic, her Witch's Curse takes on a ghostly brand upon the brow of the target. At paragon, their eyes will bleed burning tears of blood down the sides from the far edge of the eyes, leaving a scorched "bleeding eye" scar.
Okay, another update as my feylock leveled again (5th). Yay!
Curse of the Bloody Fangs: Sisa'kofa whistles as if summoning a dog. The sound echoes with power and reverberates outward. Bone-chilling howls answer her call. The sound nears until you can hear the growls and snapping of teeth. Yet, you see nothing. Suddenly, Sisa'kofa flings back her cloak and within the darkness of her mantle appear a mass of glowing red eyes and slavering maws. She gestures toward you as if loosing the reins and suddenly, razor sharp teeth rip into you. Screams and howls fill the night sky, a sweet song of slaughter. Sustaining it: If the target survives, Sisa'kofa closes her hand and flicks her wrist, as if pulling something back. Ghostly lines of eldritch energy extends from her fist to the invisible fell hounds, tethering them to this world to continue their attacks. Off topic- Funny thing happened in today's session. We were fighting a group of people-snatching Shadar-kai in a misty swamp. There were 4 of us and 1 kid. We had a tough battle, until things got desperate as our paladin fell and got carried away through the fog and our wizard was barely standing up as it is (in no condition to chase after, when our camp was in disarray with the panicking hippogriff babies and stuff). I was busy wrestling the child into obedience, as he was turned into a Shadar-kai by cultists and brainwashed. I had no choice but to chase after, leaving the child to the tiefling wizard. I ran to the 2 Shadar-kai carrying our paladin. I felled one, and the other charged me. I was close to death, as I spent my second wind after he hit me. Crunch time. It was my final turn. Fight or flight. Cast a anged basic attack and risk an OA or run away. I channeled my inner hero and rolled. He rolled a 3 on his OA and I hit with 14 damage. enough to kill the bloodied fool. It was a tense moment too.  The weak, bloodied, and pregnant woman saved the big, strong paladin. LOL.  
Wow...that's just...badass. I'm thinking I should craft myself a warlock, just so I can post some ideas...
As to your Curse of the Bloody Fangs, it reminds me of Alucard from the manga/anime Helsing - when he lets loose, its like all these slavoring hounds' heads leap out from the shadows around him, and from his arms and the like...really creepy. I like that power flavour alot! (Kinda reminiscent of the Wild Hunt for the Fey idea?)
ok so idont have my charecter with me when i post this so it maybe a bit sketchy. Sorry.
Warlock (star pact) Warforged name:23-1R/Reno-32 He's a warforged from the future created with the star pact infused in to his system. Powers/abilities: Quantum Distabilizer (e.blast): a small cannon apears from his forearm to blast the target Satilite beam (warlock curse): a small dart fires from the arm cannon when it hits the target it sticks then opens to reveal a blinking light then a beam from the sky blast the target. Lock on (prime shot) Cloaking (shadow walk) Dire radience - still needs a name Recall (fate of the void): a memory file from the future is rermembered i havnt picked his encounter power yet. need help there Heat beam (flames of phle...): His arm cannon rises with a red glowing cartridge. the cartridge realeases a devistating beam of enegy causing the target to catch fire. Thats about all i got for now any comments ideas and additions will be taken into consdiration. Thank you.
That. Is. AWESOME!
What's his Charisma and Constitution scores? Diabolic Grasp could be some form of tractor beam, while Vampiric Embrace could be some form of "refueling", but both rely on a decent Con modifier for attack. 
Perhaps some people here could use some Homebrew pacts? They are in the House Rules and Hombrew Forum. Off the top of my head, I can think of the : Mind, Necris, Demonic, Astral, and Dragon pacts.
People thanx 4 the imput let me give a bit more info.
His con is a 16. Before reading the post i had already decided to go with vampiric embrace so great minds think alike. Next i changed the curse: photonic charge: reno fires a small dart that enters the soft tissue before releasing a painful photo-electric charge. then the dart travels to the brain where it imbeds itself copying the targets brain engrams till the creature parishes. Then it sends me a small sample of it to give me some insight on the victims allies. then the dart melts down. as far as the homebrew stuff i'll look into it. if you have anymore ideas though keep them coming.
Working up a 1st level Feylock:
This character is, literally, living on borrowed time. By all rights the degenerative disease that haunts my character should have killed him three years ago. However, he's managed to live on by selling parts of himself to otherworldy entities, gaining time and a little power from each pact. As time runs out he must continue to find or sacrifice things that pique his patron's interests. "My hairs changing color, don't know why. They took most of the hearing from my right ear and the feeling from my left leg. I can't remember certain words anymore. Oh, and my fingernails have basically stopped growing." Warlock's Curse: Can't decide. Currently the enemy starts to bleed from various places (nose, gums, fingernails). Eldritch Blast: A mist shrouded blast of black-green energy strikes the foe. Eyebite: Character's eyes go photo-negative as he stares down the foe. Curse of the Dark Dream: As eyebite, but the photo-negative effect transfers to the enemy. Hellish Rebuke: If character is human I'll take this as my extra at-will. Change from fire to small beetle-like shadow creatures. Can't decide on Level 1 Encounter power. Witchfire is the obvious choice, but I like the will penalty to Dreadful Word (simply because it sets up the enemy for another Eyebite).
James, I think the Dark pact would be perfect for your warlock. It's all about poison, corruption, and making your enemies feel your and you allies' pain. He doesn't have much time left, so why not go out taking everyone with you? :P
I would, except I've pretty much fallen in love with the feypact. I'll have to look back over the Dark pact though, I hadn't considered it, but this would be a really fun character to take down the brooding path (I was going to play him more as: "Well, everything now is just gravy.")
Hey guys, I posted sketches of my characters, one of which is the feylock described in this post. Click below and check it out.
:bounce:
Very cool, angelus. I'd love to see more if you have some.
And what's this about the one character being the great^3 grandson of a god?
Lady Luna "the vampire" is not a real vampire (but she thinks she is)but a hemomaniac with a tramatic past (her entire famaly was turned into vampires before her eyes she doesnt think she "lived" through it)
Now is working for her mother a unalighed lvl 25 master vampire bard/feylock Luna is cold, calculating, munipulating and slightly narcissistic but charming with deep lavender eyes White-silver hair, and vampire pale skin. Talks with slight Irish accent. Being noble born she can act a little spoiled (she's the youngest of 4 sisters and it shows the fact she's been babied) and condescending(she IS a noble-let other advenurers take the hits and do grunt work "I AM BETTER THEN THEM") 12 str 8 dex 16con 16int 12wis 16cha pacts fey misty-step Luna becomes moon mist dark Luna's dark rage hurts the foes with super charged Night Eldrich Blast- blast of charged moonlight nales her foes blinding beauty (eye bite) Luna flirts with her target and her looks blind the target Chilling smile (spiteful glamor) Luna's absolute zero smile chills the taret to there soul mothers fangs(curse bite) Luna's fanges grow longer and she bights the targets Mother's Embrace(vampiric Embrace) Image of her Mom appear and bites the target sisterly love(thirsting maw) Shades of her sisters appear and bites the target 
There's a link in my sig that leads to Ardavum the Dark Pact Warlock. He's a half-elf who really wanted to be a wizard, but just never had a talent for arcane magic. He decided to try and wander the world to discover who he really was, and on the way he met with a being of incredible power who promised to teach him arcane magic in return for a yet-uncalled favor. Ardavum agreed, desperate as he was, and now considers himself a wizard, even though some part in the back of his brain knows that the powers he wields are a far cry from the refined, scholarly magic practiced by wizards.
Eldritch Blast: A bolt of silvery light, that looks similar to magic missile, but there are minute differences between it and a true MM that can tell the two apart, such as the bolt itself is larger than usual, and it leaves behind it a dark trail. Ardavum himself refers to the spell as Magic Missile. Spiteful Glamor: Ardavum directs a mental assault on his foe, which takes the shape of an illusory wolf. He refers to the attack a Illusory Assault. Warlock's Curse: Ardavum focuses his borrowed arcane might at an enemy, and they appear to him to be outlined with black flames. The flames appear and flare up, rotting an opponent's flesh in conjunction with his attacks, before becoming visible to him only once more. Scorching Burst: Ardavum's dilettante power, the only true wizard spell he was able to learn after years studying a wizard's art. When he uses it, the flames themselves have taken on a purplish hue, as if corrupted by some inside influence... Cursebite: With a shout, the invisible flames that Ardavum as placed on his foes appear and hurt them, although the damage is more flesh decay than actual burning. The flames disappear after a short while. Your Glorious Sacrifice: A rather deadly spell Ardavum has learned, he requires some blood from a willing being to unleash the spell's true might. If possible, he uses magic to make a small incision on an ally's body and he extracts some blood. The blood then flares up, and condenses into a tiny ball which zooms towards the target, before detonating in a dome of life-consuming agony. 
Tea, the psychotic little shadow elf (eladrin) girl. fey-pact warlock, MCs wizard at first level.
22-point buy stats (Wis 6 is the "8" stat, no extra points gained) - Str 10 Con 12 Dex 15 Int 16 Wis 6 Cha 17 Warlock's Curse - tiny bright shadowy faeries with swords start dancing around the target's head, 6 per tier. One per point of WC damage dealt attacks. Eldritch Blast - a ball of feylight and shadow hurtles into the target, lining them briefly with its deadly chaos. Eyebite - her eyes flash and the enemy sees music and hears color, and other such disorienting things of madness. Witchfire - a sexless effigy burning with purple fire flies into the enemy. Dread Star - the image of a baleful star comes into existence... and transforms into a horror that only the target can see, driving them mad. Misty Step - Tea poofs into swirling shadows and reconstitutes at her new location. Mage Hand and Prestidigitation substitute for the at-will as encounter from wizard mc. 
Daniel level two halfling fey-pact warlock.
Daniel always loved tinkering with the gears of traps,locks,and of course shiny things. But yet he wanted power.A creature appeared offering him power at once he seized it yet he is bound by an oath to do something of that which he does not know.(has a plus 16 to thievery) Str 8 con 15 dex 16 int 11 wis 10 cha 18 warlocks curse Daniels rod glows violet and at the tips a pulsating pentacle appears upon the targets brow Misty step wisps of smoke encircle him as he appears at his new location Eldritch blast a ball of dark violet energy pulsates and slams into the target Eyebite As the description Witchfire as the description Curse of the Dark Dream The targets vision swims as he sees the floor and all objects covered in snakes and beetles ethereal stride as misty step
Whoa, just whoa! I am now 6th level, picking up Skill Training (Heal) and a utility power which is as follows ...
Dark One's Own Luck: Time crawls to a slow as I invoke my fey pact-lord's presence, thereby altering reality. The world momentarily becomes photo-negative as I will something to happen (make a save, successfully hit, or make a skill check). "My will be done. So mote it be!" I made my very first magical purchase/trade! I traded an arcanist's glasses for a wand of radiance +1 and 50 gp, thanks to our fighter's savvy haggling skillz. How kool is that?! The wand looks exactly like the pic in AV, which looks awesome. (Having the implement will change how some of my powers will manifest, which I will add to my first post.) Oh, and the DM finally gave me the specs on Baba Yaga's broom (it is still a work in progress). Check it out. Broom of the Crone (aka Baba Yaga's Broom) Show (30th Level Wondrous Item) Made of silver birch wood, this minor artifact appears like any ordinary broom. It is in the hands of Baba Yaga or the one who stole it from her that its magic awakens. It can be broken by those who do not meet the above prerequisite (which is basically everyone else but me, lol). @ 6th level - Without A Trace Power (At-will): As a full round action, sweep away all tracks in a close burst 4. This increases the difficulty of following tracks in the area by +20. @ 8th level - Fearsome Flight Power (Daily*Fear): Move Action. For one encounter, as long as you remain on the broom, you have a fly speed (clumsy) of twice your base land speed. You must end your turn in an unoccupied square adjacent to another unoccupied square (I think the broom can hover, as the DM did not specify landing on a horizontal surface). If you cackle, enemies you pass along the way take a -4 to their initiative in each subsequent round (save ends). @ 10th level - as Fearsome Flight, but you can take one other persone with you on the broom. @ 13th level - As per Without A Trace except a close burst 20. This is all he has written so far. Any thoughts? I will be posting this in the Magic Items section as well for ideas and improvements.) Reminder, all my powers with the implement keyword have an alternate visual effect -slash- somatic component. :D
whoa! Thats a big post. Might I recommend using spoiler blocks with option, here is the code ...
[ sblock=Title ]Your entry[ /sblock ] use the above, but don't space the brackets 
Eeeps, sorry! Thanks for the tip, it's been edited. Hope it wasn't too much : )
The victims of Mindarthis Silverburg's eyebite have no idea what hit them.
He looks at them, and they start grabbing their head in pain (if they have hands). It's never a good idea to tick him off, because after that, he closes and spends an action point to Lead the Attack.(He's primarily a Taclord.) The Earlking has thus far only granted him one power, but he uses it well. 
Murethand Foves Half-elf Star Pact Warlock
When he is using any of his class features or powers a small transluscent orerry appears with constantly shifting multicolored spheres. Radiant powers and the activation of fate of the Void feature cause it pulse brightly and then cause him to flash for a moment with light. Dire Radiance - One of the spheres floats above the Orerry, grows, and shines brightly at the target. If the target approaches the orerry shifts and whirrs more rapidly almost angrily as it intensifies the light. Eldritch Blast - The spheres of the orerry seperate from the orerry to spin a rapid vertical circle which turns black and issues forth a shadowy miniature comet. Dreadful Word - Small beams of light shoot forth from the orerry and strike around Murethand's right eye. Each point that was struck glows as a small pinprick suggesting some kind of constellation etched around his eye. The target suddenly sees deep into Murethand's eye and the dark and terrible places among the stars. Crown of Stars - The spheres from the orerry appear to double and the doubles arrange themselves into a ring of 10 orbs around his head. This ring slowly spins around his head. PS. If you immediately recognize where I got the name, yes I have done way too many missions for Federation Customs.
Okay, another big update! I am not sure if I leveled or not, but I finally managed to get my new mask finished and purchase ritual scrolls to copy unto my ritual book. While our wizard pursues more arcane/utility rituals, my feylock will be focusing on the healing aspect, with some self-utility rituals like make whole and endure elements (basically, she is taking her blood magic to the biomantic level).
Here is her mask. It is made of silver birch wood, inlaid with mother of pearl. It kicks ass! Mask of Sisa'kofa Show  Here are the rituals I've finally copied. Some of her rituals will include the various humours of the body (i.e. saliva, blood, bile ...) Ritual recipes Show Brew Potion - She succeeded in using Arcana to make signature tastes for potions; altering the recipe for potions of healing to give it a minty flavor. Yum!
Cure Disease - Combining components into a paste (with own spit), she draws healing runes upon the diseased body. The runes ignite and burn away the disease. Delay Affliction - A mixture of components and her own blood, she coats her hand and lays it upon the target. The hand print delays the affliction, until it fades away. Enchant Magic Item - Regular components, with her own blood added to seal the magic. Endure Elements - Arcane mark upon body, its warmth warding away the chill. Gentle Repose - Strips of cloth/bandages soaked in preserving oils and such. With a drop of honey on the eyelids to lure the soul back to the vessel (windows to the soul, hehe) Magic Circle - Halved apples (has a natural pentacle in center) with a laurel leaf pressed unto it. Then place it down in the 4 cardinal points. Make Whole - just that
Caseo Peia is a starclock with multiclass to wizard, all of her attacks are based off psychich whenever possable
Dire radiance Her eyes change colors from black pupil, green iris, white sclera to white pupil, red iris, black sclera and from the crimson iris she stares down her opponent, pinning them with her gaze. her eldrich blast has become her hurling a black sun tward her opponent, exploding with violet violence. her warlocks curse has magots and leeches fade into existance all over her opponent, biting them mercilessly before fading out again, were they ever there in the first place? Dread word is her singing a disgusting rhyme of some sort "roses are red, violets are blue, the stars will turn red, and my worms will eat you." Far real phantasam has eels and worms spiral out of the astral sea to slither and crawl around the foe, tightening together to form a single massive maggot that falls away to nothing a futile strike later. Illussory ambush has multiple versions of her appear around the oponent, each one looks a little off, different hair color, different race but dressed the same, same person but different class, after showing the opponent the hundreds of possabilities one's destiny can take, they all strike at once before each fading away, showing how the choices wind down to her chosen fate. Grasping shadows has maggots boil up from the ground to entrap her opponents feet and all those near by, the sensations of maggots in the boots is most unnerving as they bite and squish within the toes. Summons of kirhaid opens a portal at her opponents feet, when they fall in they see the world she wants to make, walking corpses bursting with maggots and a great black sun (purple) staring down from above, the star open like an eye to stare at them before- dropping them back here to this realm, again and again but only the first vision was so haunting, every next time through replays the same vision. Fury of gibbeth has her open her mouth wide and a torrential stream of magots stream up from her stomach, spewing down over her foe and making them slip prone untill they can crawl out of the way, on whish she wipes her mouth and the vomit vanishes The red leeches of nirhal is actualy the basis for all her powers theme and thus remains basicly unchanged, when someone spends a healing surge, their blood sweats out of their skin to form red worms that she sucks in with a huricane like inhale, and chews to swallow the bloodworms.
New update, as our DM finally gave us our XP from our game 3 weeks ago. Game is back to full swing this weekend, yay. Here is my feylock's 7th level power. I took a control power in case I get surrounded and/or harried.
Howl Of Doom: A hauntingly beautiful sound emerges from her throat, as if a banshee is singing a dirge. It is as if many voices are emerging from one throat. The very air shivers and throbs, slamming into her foes and driving them back. This is similar to the banshee of Ireland from The Gargoyles cartoon. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnIbmFxqNYI Implement (wand): She places the tip of the wand under her chin, which increases the intensity and volume of her keening song. The grief prevalent in the wailing seizes your heart and squeezes until it bleeds.
I am sad to say that my feylock is no more. Our campaign ended at our current level so I won't be posting any more flavors right now (I might post some occasionally so I can have something to use for future reference).
But with our DMs switching, we are making new characters. I might make a new thread on swordmages or clerics. I just need a new thread title that grabs attention. 
Tea Telæsthesia is a fey-pact warlock/swordmage that fills up her hearts and shoots her pact sword with power. well, except the "filling up hearts" thing, she does it even at less than full health. :P
This is a complete redo of the character with swordmage instead of wizard (she was originally written pre-FRPG). It's also essentially a repost from the "How do you SPELL your BLADE" thread. 'Cause I can  By pointing an enemy out with her blade, Tea places a curse on that enemy, making it more susceptible to her attacks. The curse takes the form of tiny dancing sprites flitting around the cursed enemy. Tea powers her sword with arcane energy and swings it to release a crescent shaped eldritch blast of mixed shadow-stuff and crackling purple fey light. Tea can also twirl her sword in such a manner that it confuses the senses of an enemy by sending out odd sonic and air vibrations, distorting the light around her and releasing the psychic energies of her eyebite. By twirling her sword above her, Tea can generate heat along the blade. By infusing the wildness of the Fey she creates a crescent shaped blast of witchfire that harms the opponent with deadly flames and reduces their ability to attack. And finally, by mustering all of her psychic might and thrusting it into her blade, she can cut straight into the enemy's mind with her curse of the dark dream, delivering to it dark horrors that cause it to move as Tea directs.
The Executioner/Debt Collector/Repo Man
This is how I play my gish hexhammer warlock. Long story short he's been given his powers by a powerful devil under the condition he acts as a Repo Man to collect the collateral (IE souls) of those that haven't lived up to their ends of the bargain they made with said devil. All the souls of those he slays thanks to his magic weapon, 'Soul Eater' a +2 Pact Hammer are sent to Baator. The More souls he gathers, the more power he's rewarded with. My particular character is also a Fallen Hammer of Moradin who has turned his back on most gods and the notion of good. He sees good and evil as irrelevant, and to strive for either is pointless. He desires only power in any form.
 Gregory Greenscale is a dragonborn warlock/cleric with a fae pact, he dressed conservatively and always opted to go last on initative, waiting to see the battlefield before he acted. His charisma was often unmatched and was always the first one to speak to the villagefolk to get good deals as often as he could. The Greenscales have always had a magister somewhere in each generation, it was the family trait to have a forked silver tongue and he was no exception. He sat silently at every town meeting, seemingly asleep but always right on key when asked his view. Such was his way untill he was sent to the eladrins feywild to witness the ways of another court. While there, he made friends with a few of the feyfolk and they described to him a few ways to phrase key words to drive his points home in deliberations. He took these lessons to heart and would often place them in best use at just the right time when confronted by bandits or those in opposition to his ideas. Now, as an adition to his eladrin tachings he was also educated in secular ministrations, eventualy finding the laws of Erathis quite similar to his own convitions. There were laws and he would lend his vessel to be the voice of law. As a joke made by a friend, any use of his warlocks curse is a loud cry of "OBJECTION!" this seems to come from a videogame I havent played. His eyebite is a rapid explination of the futility of those bothering to attack him when there are far more deserving targets available and far more dangerous than him. Befuddeling their mind and ignoring him as a target as if he was invisable. His eldrich blast and his eldrich rain has him actualy hurl his book of laws at his opponents only for it to burst into hundreds of pages, each page burning away like flash paper before reapearing in his hand once again. Beguiling tongue has no need for explination I belive. Mire the mind is an extention of his eyebite as now he explains how futile it is to attack any one of his allies in range, making them second guess themselves into a frustrated tizzy. I havent figured out the rest yet the feats are: Initiate of the faith Skill training diplomacey novice power skill focus diplomacey Acolyte power 
Sidus Solitarius, Half-Elf Starlock
He's level 2 now, and should be 3 soon. Basically my original concept was for a character who used his power as a means to try and destroy the power's source. I liked the idea of someone who wanted to subvert Fate itself, and so a Star Pact Warlock was the natural choice. Basically, he was the bored son of an adventurer who found a tome in his parent's old things. It described to him astrology and the means to forming a star pact, which he foolishly completed. That first night, he dreamt of a terrible storm, a primal force of incredible power, that was tearing through his entire world and leaving destruction in its wake. When he awoke, he was determined to stop it. Forming the pact made his eyes nearly useless, but he was granted the ability to see people and objects by their Fatelines: linear, malleable representations of the objects that controlled each individual's past, present, and future lives. He figured that others would see such an event coming, and they did. Unfortunately, each of them were certain that the cataclysm had been decreed by Fate and is thus irreversible. He couldn't take this lying down, and so devoted his life to stoping it. Since the reversal of Fate itself (or, if necessary, its destruction) is the kind of task that makes all sorts of nasty enemies, Sidus took his fake name. A firm believer in Chaos Theory (or its magical, DnD equivalent) Sidus is now searching to find the right point such that a small prod of Fates' strands might stop the inevitable catastrophe. He also trains, so that if all else fails he might face the metaphorical storm head-on, sacrificing his life if necessary to stop it. Most of his power descriptions fit with the theme of manipulating Fate, specifically the Fatelines that describe and control a person's life. Spoiler: Show Warlock's Curse: Through a careful focus on his foe, Sidus imposes his own will on the foe's Fateline, sensing when and where it ends, subtly altering and shortening it. To those trained to notice such things, a large double "S" appears above the enemy, a symbol of Sidus's vanity. Eldritch Blast: Sidus ignites his left hand in purple fire, reading the creature's Fate and attempting to hurl it where the foe is going to be rather than its current position. Dire Radiance: A cool blue light appears behind Sidus' obscured eyes and a beam of light descends majestically from above to focus on the target. The light restricts the foe's Fateline, punishing him for moving in the wrong direction. Dreadful Word: Sidus uses his mind to convey a single word into the target's head, one of the immensely powerful words used to view Fatelines. The mere mention of this word is enough to drive even the cleverest insane. Prophecy of Zhudun: Sidus implants in the foe's mind a single image of their future or past, one of pain and suffering. The image distracts the foe as they desperately try to separate out the present. Ethereal Stride: Sidus reaches to grab his own Fateline, shifting it slightly. Everyone else thinks that he's never moved from the spot (for in this present, he's been there the whole time.) Only Sidus notices that he's still a bit harder to hit as his Fateline settles into its new position. Unfortunately, I don't have a good picture, but basically he's a man in leather armor with a big black cloak over his eyes and a pact scythe. 
I like to think that my human star warlock who doesn't have a name yet is just as terrified as his opponents of what's happening to him.
As for his powers: His curse isn't so much something that he does deliberately as it is his benefactors paying particular attention to a target that he's going after. Likewise with his extra at-will, eyebite. It isn't something that he does to an enemy so much as the enemy looking at him and seeing something so horrible that they take damage and their mind refuses to see him until they recover from the experience. His shadow walk again isn't something he's doing deliberately as much as he's seeing angles that other people can't percieve and unconciously moving through them. To other people he seems to "rotate" in some way and certain attacks simply bend around him. His Curse of the Dark Dream works on the same principal, his enemies suddenly percieve the same unnatural geometry and stumble around attempting to avoid it. The Eldritch Blast and Dire Radiance are both Color Out of Space references, he briefly allows something that's halfway between radiation spectrum and living creature access to our universe and directs them onto his enemies, who wither as the color feeds on its victim. And last of all, Dreadful Word is pretty much exactly what you'd expect. He wields a rod that, despite being totally mundane at this point, seems to squirm and twist around, as if there were more angles to it than exist in three dimensions (look up an animated picture of a hypercube some time). The angle I'm going for with this character is that of a classic Lovecraft protagonist, his buddies found him in an asylum and he knows that something horrible is coming. All of his powers are the result of his exposure to that something and he can briefly bring the conditions of the far realms about despite knowing that doing so poisons the material world. The obvious dilemma is that if he doesn't use his abilities, he'll be killed by monsters and if he does, he may inadvertantly tear a hole in reality big enough for something to come through. Naturally, he can't seem to stop getting dragged into situations where he has to use them because if there was one thing that Lovecraft loved, it was inevitability. 
I haven't actually gotten to play Arren Corvus, human (sorta) feylock, but here is what he would be.
Description Show Tall and slender, Arren is actually rather ordinary. Until you notice that his long, glossy, somewhat pointy hair is actually feathers and that he has small feathers growing along the outside edges of his forearms. His skin, surprisingly out of line with the raven motif, is pale and his eyes a deep SOLDIER blue. Ordinarily, he wears a long black cloak (stitched with feather designs on the hem) over rather loose black slacks and a sleeveless gray shirt woven with mithral threads and a single raven feather inscribed with the word "Nevermore" in baroque script on a chain around his neck. Psychologically, he is intensely curious and playful, and quickly grasps difficult concepts. Tricky and sly, Arren is by no means Lawful, and ill luck seems to follow him, in keeping with raven lore. Despite these setbacks, he tries to keep up a sunny, altruistic disposition, setting his alignment as a shaky Good, with leanings toward Unaligned. Backstory Show Arren had always had an odd connection with ravens. Fair enough. A bit coincidental. At this point, however, he was a normal human. What wasn't normal, though, was that the fey had marked him. Quoth the Raven (his real name would drive mortals mad), a powerful fey lord, was using Arren as a pawn in some hideously complex seelie game. Quoth sent a raven to give Arren an offer he couldn't refuse: fey power in exchange for furthering Quoth's ends. Arren accepted, and the raven shuddered, merging with Arren's form, giving him the feather-hair and other physical resemblances to Corvus corvax. So far, Quoth hasn't asked much. Just a few token efforts, really. Arren's still uncertain quite why he accepted. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was eternally curious. Maybe it was because the raven also threatened horrifying torments in the afterlife if he rejected the offer. Nobody said Quoth was nice. Equipment Show Arren carries a black mithral scythe with (guess what) a finely-worked feather design etched into the blade and the obvious feather motif. But it's an unusual scythe, because it has a pact blade set into it, allowing it to be used for thrusting. His cloak, too, is woven with black mithral threads (treat as hide armor). Notable quotes Show "Let's not keep the ravens waiting for lunch." "They're noble creatures, you know. Not like those uncivilized crows." (More forthcoming) Power fluff Show Raven's Feathers (Warlock's Curse): Black feathers flutter around the target and jab it. Seraph Stride (Misty Step): Three wings burst from Arren's right-hand back, like Genesis, then wrap around him. He discorporates in a burst of feathers and reappears in his destination. Ravenstrike (Eldritch Blast): A bird-shaped burst of dark energy streaks toward the target. Eyepluck (Eyebite): A spectral raven seems to pluck out the target's eyes. Corvid's Rebuke (Hellish Rebuke): Quill-like feathers fire at the assailant in retaliation. Conspiracy of Ravens(Witchfire): Phantom ravens harrow the target instead of the silver fires described. Featherwhirl (Dread Star): A raven fires razor-sharp feathers, boxing the target in. Note: "corvus" is Latin for "raven."
Lysistrata Epos, Githyanki Infernal Pact Warlock
At birth (in our campaign) when Githyanki are born they are given a bond jewel, a gem that taps into psychic energy and forms the silver swords they use for the rest of their life. Only the Lich Queen and a few others know how they are formed. When Lysis was born, she was never bestowed a bond jewel, which made her an outcast in Githyanki society, being disgracefully removed from her cadre. For years she struggled to come up with a way to gain power, finally deciding the best way would be to make a make a pact with infernal forces. Knowing the consequences of such an act, she did it regardless, seeing it simply as a mean to her end. Short for a Githyanki, standing at 5’6’’, she wears plain clothes compared to what most usually wear; a pair or sandals with a cloak that covers unassuming and rarely seen clothes. She has a circular face and almond shaped brown eyes that match her hair, which frames her face and goes down to her mid back in small tied back dreadlocks. Silent, irritable, and contemplative, Lysis - as she prefers to be called – strives for the power she never had. Flavour Prime shot: Her eyes gleam with hellfire in them as a clear shot of her enemy is found. Shadow walk: As she moves around the battle field, her very being appears to flicker in and out of focus as if caught between the planes. Warlock’s Curse: She curses her enemy’s existence and a flaming pentagram appears beneath him, forever binding him to the hollowing pit. Eldritch Blast: She points at her foe and a bolt of searing white energy strikes them. Hellish Rebuke: She glares at her adversary and hellish flames ignite upon him. If damaged before next turn: Recovering from the blow, she glares once again at him and the dying flames come to life again in a blaze. Vampiric Embrace: She reaches out towards her enemy with ghostly hands and tears pieces of his soul away. Flames of Phlegethos: Her implement’s tip sparks briefly like an ignition, and a horrid plume of flames rise beneath her enemy engulfing them in persistent flames. Beguiling Tongue: Hellfire sparks in her eyes and she gains the charm, wit, and ferociousness of Asmodeus himself. Fiery Bolt: She calls upon the infernal powers coursing within her and use both hands to create a tremendous blast of fire that engulfs her enemy and all those around him. Avernian Eruption: The ground beneath her foes begins to crack, allowing the very flames of Avernus to strike them down. 
Here's a currently-unused re-flavoring of the hell-lock as a psion (specifically kineticst)
Dark One's Blessing: If your foes want to hit you, they're going to have to get through your telekinitic feild. You would have it up constantly, but you can only get enough energy to do it from the psychic force generated by your foe's death. Eldritch Blast: You hit the foe with a telekinetic blast. Hellish Rebuke: You scorch your enemy with mentally-produced flames. If they attack you, you make the flames flare up once more. Diabolic Grasp: Using only your mind, you pick up your foe and fling him aside. Flames of Phlegethos: You will your opponent to become engulfed in flames. That's all for now, since most of the powers would end up being variations on "You set your opponent on fire with your mind!" 
Shade Tiefling Hell-lock Rogue
Shade is a young Tiefling in his older teenage years. He's about 5'6 and around 150 lbs. He is more human than fiend in appearance. He does have a red skin tone, the cloven hooves, thin devil tail ending in a barb and long thin horns that are sweep back from the side of his temples but that aside he has a very human face, spiked light blonde hair and green eyes. He usually wears an open ruddy leather vest, specially tailored slacks that cover up to the point his knees bend back, and head band (blood cut leather armor if elven women can wear chainmail bikini's and call it armor I can wear this :P) a pair of bracers cut of the same material (Bracer's of Protection) and an amulet that bears the symbol of Sehanine (Amulet of Health) and on his belt above his tail is an ornate dagger from the Bael Turath Dynasty it looks very cruel and has fiendish runes scrawled across the flat of the blade (Pact Blade). This is his background though it is very long http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.php?t=1139447 Flavor Warlocks Curse (Soul Burn I)- Shade points his pact blade at you as if to tell you your next. You suddenly feel an uncomfortable burning sensation run through your body that while not painful makes you uneasy. Next time Shade strikes you with any attack you feel as if the burning within you flares and burns your very soul. Dark One's Blessing (Soul Burn II) - Shade has fell his target and the smoke that was his souls essence flows from the body and into the cruel blade. Shadow Walk (Burning Step)- As Shade walks towards you flames spring from his steps engulfing his hooves. They don't seem to bother the boy but as he gets closer they begin to bellow a sickly looking smoke. Soon he is completely cloaked by it and all you can see is three glowing green points of light (his eyes and the blade). Sneak Attack (Soul Rend)- From the smoke the boy lunges at you too late do you pin down his location you try to parry his blade but it strikes true and digs deep. The dagger tears into your body and rends your soul in an agonizing slash. Infernal Wrath (Burning Vengeance)- You struck Shade but it wasn't enough to bring him down. Shame to because his eyes are upon you and they burn like to glowing embers of felfire. You have reaped the rage of a devil and his next attack will be especially terrible. Eldritch Blast (Smoke Bolt)- Shade gathers a dense ball of billowing smoke from the nether and throws it at you. It smells terrible and burns your throat and lungs leaving painful blisters. Fiendish Rebuke (Pain Flare)- You hurt Shade but again you didn't finish the job. He pulls some essence of his pain and gathers it into a small orb as fuel and ignites it in felfire. He slashes his dagger through it and a wave of fire slams into you. Dazing Strike (Soul Shock)- Shade struck you with his vile blade. Your soul shudders and is unable to act. You are helpless to him and his allies for a short time as your paralyzed soul tries to pull itself together. Fiery Bolt (Felfire Arc)- Shade arcs a strand of felfire from his dagger to his opposite hand and throws the beam at you and as it slams into you it jumps from you to one of your allies. Howl of Doom (Fearful Soul)- You have him Shade has nowhere to run but why does he still grin like that. Shade channels the blasphemous dark tongue and curses the name of you and your allies. Your ears and eyes burn and bleed as you flee in terror from the source of your agony. Sneak in the Attack (Devil's Guidance)- Shade's mind speaks to his allies in a dark whisper encouraging them to exploit a foe's weakness. They take the shot and the attack wounds deeply. Flames of Phlegathos (Flame Pillar)- Shade raises his hand as he chants in the forbidden tongue and fire jets forth from the ground beneath you. You quickly find yourself engulfed in swirling flames struggling to extinguish them. Avernian Eruption (Fire Nova)- In a similar motion Shade motions with both hands and the pillar of flame expands engulfing you and anyone nearby in searing hot felfire. Shroud of Steel (Felforged Flesh)- Shade says a few words and clasps his hands chanting in infernal as flames swirl around him. Quickly his skin hardens into a metallic carapace forged in the fires of the inferno itself. More to be added upon acquisition. 
I'm bumping this topic because I really love it, and my new feylock. My friends and I just started a campaign that will
take us from level five to thirty, and I'm excited to play again (I was Dm of last campaign). This is Euan Ry, my feylock. He's, on paper, a gnome, but RP wise, a nine year old human boy. His backstory explains: lookie here Show In the large village where Euan is from, the fae and land spirits thrived, and changeling children were commonplace. To make fairies and spirits return human children they had stolen parents usually threatened the "changeling" child that the fairies left behind. Sometimes even burning in the fireplace what looked to everyone like an innocent human baby. And sometimes, it worked- strange, mind-twisting beings would creep out of the darkness on the other side of the village hedge to return children, rescuing their offspring, leaving behind a crying human baby and partially insane parents- and sometimes, a child just died. This couldn't have been farther from the minds of Davin and Calli Ry, the newlyweds who grow the local rye and hops for beer and bread. They were elated to have their first born-that is, until he was born grossly premature. Small, and sickly ill, Euan Ry barely survived his first few weeks, but soon was well enough, to the delight of his parents. The very first night he was laid to sleep on his own, was a night that nearly drove the Ry family mad. They woke in the morning to find not their, thin, pale boy, but instead a chubby, warty thing that cried inhuman shrieks incessantly. When night fell, Davin took his pocket knife to the dour child, and swore to furrow his fields with the blood of this boy if his own was not returned to him. And in an instant the shrieking monster scuttled to the floor and clear out the chimney! Great winds rushed the house; hundreds of tiny knocks came at their front door, and the wind burst it open. Dozens upon dozens of autumn leaves, moths, and brightly colored butterflies whisked through their home an disappeared just as quickly. A mock cradle of hawthorn twigs and a blanket of rye chaff swaddled their son. Euan had returned to his family, but was no longer just a human boy. As the child grew, he had a pension for vanishing into the woods and the fields of rye, sometimes his voice when he was nowhere to be seen. Euan grew up intelligent muchly beyond his years and strange for a simple farmers son, and he was the Ry family secret. By the time Euan was nine, his family was downright frightened by the strange mannerisms and abilities of their once precious boy. Little did they know, Euan, constantly in the company of the fae who wanted him back, had decided to venture off on his own. The only things he took with him were the clothes on his back, and a piece of the hawthorn "cradle" he was "told" would help protect him. Don't be surprised if, while walking down the road one day, you catch the fleeting glimpse of a barefoot, gaunt, and frail child weaving through the trees, humming strange melodies to himself, and followed by a trail of butterflies. Don't be surprised also if he disappears from view just as instantly as a blind and dying butterfly falls to the ground. Basically, I love the gnome, and felt that the stealthy and sly ways of the gnome fit the whole feytouched child idea pretty dead-on. Fade Away and ghost sound are just natural extensions of his fey nature. Because he's a child, he keeps the small size and weapon detriments, and campaign wise, if aging becomes a problem we'll just say he's forever feylike and small. stats Show This is him leveled to six because I got a little ahead of myself, :P FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 8, Con 9, Dex 10, Int 17, Wis 11, Cha 22. AC: 17 Fort: 13 Reflex: 17 Will: 19 HP: 47 Surges: 6 Surge Value: 11 TRAINED SKILLS Insight +8, Nature +10, Arcana +13, Stealth +13 UNTRAINED SKILLS Acrobatics +3, Diplomacy +8, Dungeoneering +3, Endurance +3, Heal +3, History +6, Intimidate +8, Perception +5, Religion +6, Bluff +7, Streetwise +8, Thievery +3, Athletics +2 FEATS Improved Misty Step, Shadow Skulk, Reaper's Touch, Arcane Familiar: Bat (re flavored as an ever changing butterfly/moth-every time it's summoned it's a monarch, luna moth, blue morpho, etc...) And now the second fun part (after the background) the powers reflavor! da powaz Show Warlock's Curse(the fey awareness)- Euan is skittish, and hides overmuch, so when focusing on an obstacle (he doesn't think in terms of enemies) he makes himself known to them in the subtlest way. A small, brown woodland moth flies over to the cursee, and they instantly feel all of their skin being chilled by the beating wings of a million little beasties, they might see moths and butterflies briefly wherever Euan actually is currently. Fade Away(whisked away)- Euan has little to no con or str, he's just a child (with no armor!), so when he does manage to get hurt, a hundred little paper white moths appear in front of him, and then dissipate just as instantly. Ghost Sound(the taunt)- This is fun, usually ghost sound is combined with warlock's curse, as Euan (concealed or invisible, or making constant stealth checks) calls out to the cursee "Come find mee...I'm over heeeere... I'm riiight heere...Come find meeee....what's wrong....etc. ad nauseam" as he gleefuly frightens those around him ("plays with his food", you know, the trick-playing sprite) Misty Step (flutter of wings)- for a brief moment, when the first obstacle has been taken down, Euan takes the form of a dozen or so monarch butterflies, flying gracefully to a place that will set him up to take down the next (or go back to hiding). Eyebite(wispy wings)- Euan flutters his eyelashes rapidly, each time a handful of winged creatures slip out from between his lids, and flies towards you. You feel their wings flutter like razors in your mind, and while distracted, the boy vanishes from sight. Eldritch Blast(winged fury)- Euan raises his hand to his lips, and blows out a quick, short breath, a beautiful brown moth flies from his mouth to you, getting larger the closer it comes, until it enshrouds you illusory darkness, and tear at your own skin to "try to get it off". Sprite War Call(the butterfly feast)- In the air you smell the sweetest of flowers, and in barely a moment you notice hundreds of black swallow tail butterflies swarm at you ready to feast. Prophecy of Zhudun(moth's blending) Euan whispers into the very sky, summoning hundreds of his winged friends to attack you and conceal him and his allies. The butterflies and moths soon disappear just as quickly as they had appeared. Ethereal Stride(no rename, it's good!)- Euan takes the form of cat sized moth, fluttering shortly, then shrinking in size to remain hidden. Otherwind Stride(no rename)- monarchs flutter out from Euans very skin, surrounding him and those around him, then carrying him away to a safer place. Fury of Gibbeth(wings underfoot) a giant blue morpho butterfly is summoned under your very feet, knocking you to the floor and making you choke on the wing scales and dust you kick up. Mercurial Form(quick winged form) the obvious choice, Euan shrinks down to become a Luna moth, easily hidden, taking up no space, and ever unable to be caught. Lastly, a picture: Spoiler: Show [img]  [/IMG]
It's alive? IT'S ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!! :evillaugh
Yay, my thread's still kickin'. Anyways, awesome post there, berg (esp the pic). But you triple posted the same post. Might want to fix that. :D 
My warlock tiefling dark/infernal pact Tia Dark fire. Her training comes to her in dreams from a figure cloaked in fire and shadows. Eldritch blast looks like an orb of shadows. Flames of phethgos 3 firey demons with one eye entering through a rift and striking the target. Twilight of the soul is her summoning the souls of the unqiet dead to leach the life from her target. Shadow strangler is the targets own shadow reaching up to strangle the person. Just to name a few.
Reason she made the pact was her mother sister and younger brother were kidnapped her father and older brother killed. She ran and was offered by her patron the chance for revenge if she also retrieved something from the killers for her patron. What she doesnt know is that she is being groomed and guided to ascend to the ranks of Devil lord so that she can displace the arch devil that her patron is currently at war with. While she struggles to maintain some semblance of morality she is wracked by nightmares, as well as a sense of failure because her family still wound up dying later. The king she served died as well while she was in the room. With each failure her desire for more power grows stronger. 
Wow, guys, there is some great stuff in here! Allow me to submit my own:
Sammael, undead-tiefling darklock. This campaign, everyone was playing a basic sort of undead(like the soon-to-be-released revenant). Basically, we made some minor mechanical things(like no need for food) and flavor things and used the stats from our pre-death race. Before the plague of undeath claimed his homeland, Sammael was a sorcerer(mc nowadays). He worked hard to keep his dark side under control, and had all the things living a good life could give. He was still fairly young, had his health, a beautiful wife, and a bright future. Then everything and everyone died. Sammael was raised against his will to serve the self-styled lord of undeath, but really, he had issues with the guy. I mean, at least he could have raised Sammael's wife, right? But no such luck. Sammael lost it somewhere around this point, and decided to give up the whole "living a good life" thing, and try out this "being an evil bastard" thing that he had been putting off for so long. He was trained enough in the arcane to look within himself and see the threads connecting him to a great Necromantic force. He swore an oath to this power, helping to more securely anchor those threads with dark magic. As he casts spells, he draws the power of undeath through these threads, slowly increasing his connection to his fell patron. He sows death and corruption wherever he goes, hoping to strengthen his patron by converting life into death, or even better, into undeath. (We tried a homebrew create undead ritual, and our wizard abused it to the point where the campaign fell apart  ) I did lots of mildly disturbing things with him, such as keeping dead rats in his chest cavity, along with other disease-infested trophies, and anything poisonous and organic I could get my hands on. There they were constantly bombarded with the dark energies that suffused me. I had a habit of dropping them into the water supplies of any not-dead civilizations we came across.Part of me wishes that campaign could have continued, but maybe we'll try again when the revenant comes out.
I’d like to post my second warlock, who I’ve played in one (flashback) session for my current campaign. I originally built her to just fill a role for one game, but it evolved into much more.
However, Myrrdin met his end not at the hands of Morgana but Nimue, his lover. Nimue discovered that he trafficked with fiends and only courted her to gain access to her immortality elixirs. Once his deception was revealed, she tricked and led him deep into the eldritch core of her domain, binding him forever in hawthorn, bane of all magic. However, just before his prison covered him completely, he managed to dispel her glamours. Stripped of her grace and power, Nimue became human. After her severance from the Elder powers, she sought her sisters’ help. Vivienne advised her to accept the change and move on while Morgana mocked and rejected her. And so Nimue’s quest for redemption set her upon a mortal’s path of loss, pain, and suffering. She survived the ages by consuming her youth elixirs; she may have lost her magic but her knowledge of alchemy remained. She used her astrological skills to become one of the greatest seers in mortal history. Always moving and using different names, she watched empires rise and fall. And always, the stars were her constant companions and friends. Eventually, she managed to form a pact with the moon goddess, Arianrhod, by using an ancient Elder ritual that called down the moon. She even challenged Death itself in a game, against whom she won and was rewarded eternal life. The Ilse Witch is a fey pact warlock with a smattering of starlock powers, to emulate her connection to the stars. Eventually, she will dual pact into Star (as the moon counts as a celestial body).
When Shadow Walking during the day, she seems to disappear from sight except from the peripheral angle. During the night, she seems to manifest a cloak of star mantled dusk. Her eldritch blast looks like a blue-white bolt of shimmering light. It fogs the air around it, as if it was a spear of ice. Her misty step and all other teleport powers manifest as a whirlwind of air and leaves. Sprite War Call: (Arcane Power) a swarm of male tinkerbells appear that each proclaim, “Nimue Back?”, “Nimue See!”, “Nimue Spell!”, “Nimue Cast!”, “Nimue p*ssed!”. Lol, can you imagine the WTF face on the enemy? Crown of Stars: (Dragon 366) a circlet of moonfire appears as a halo, with little motes shaped like a phase of the moon orbiting her head. 
Pictured in my photo is a close approximation of Chester McSquee, halfling feylock. Most of his powers have a greenish tinge to them. His curse is mostly verbal and varies according to the target. Minotaurs will be steaked, for example. Curse of the Dark Dream is an alternate reality where Sarah Palin is president *shudder*. The most obvious trait is the squirrel-like appearance. The fine print of his pact requires him to wear a squirrel outfit whenever he uses his powers.
Baby it's back. I am slowly but surely editing my posts in this thread for easier reading, as per the forum changes. Anyways, any more flavors of warlock out there? 
Well, here's one... Malachaiah Hartsworn , betrothed of He Who Walks Behind The Trees Although only in her 20's, Malachaiah is one of the elders of her village. Petite and of only average height, she is still imposing and regal, commanding respect through wisdom, force of personality, and sheer raw magical power. Blonde and lovely, she wears her long hair in an archaic fashion, dresses in a style not common since the last great empire fell, and speaks in a formal manner. Her posture is always perfect, her speech is always polite even when pouring blistering scorn upon her enemies, and her authority and will are iron. Despite her stern demeanor, she deeply cares for the people of her village, and feels responsible for them as though they were her own children. She considers the pact she made with her patron to be a wedding vow, and wears a golden ring on her finger as the seal of her pact. Although she hasn't seen her patron, or the cambion child she bore him, in over eight years, she often talks about him as though he had just left the room. As inspiration, I went with classic horror movies, real-life occultism and early American history - Children of the Corn, Salem's Lot, Carrie, the Salem witch trials, the Puritans, Quakers and Mormons, Roanoke Colony, even the Donner Party. (Living in New England, I had a whole lot of history, atmosphere and legend to draw from.)
Over the years, the boy used the Pure's faith in him to warp and twist their beliefs until, in the present day, they no longer bear any resemblance to their original Peloran creed. Now, hundreds of years later, the Pure no longer even remember their origins, believing that He Who Walks Behind The Trees has always been their Dark Lord. On the darkest day of midwinter they hold a lottery among the firstborn children of a certain age to determine who will have the honor of being that year's sacrifice to He Who Walks Behind The Trees in order to ensure that the colony survives the coming year. (Shirley Jackson's classic short story The Lottery...) Being an infernal warlock, and having the whole "early American witchcraft" thing going on, most of Malachaiah's powers are flavored to reflect that. She generally makes use of those stereotypical sorts of tools and trappings for all of her magical workings. Her Warlock's Curse is essentially the Evil Eye - she points at the target and utters a brief curse in some archaic tongue. Eldritch Blast is nothing more than a blast of golden raw magical energy, but when she uses Hellish Rebuke she draws a blade across her skin, causing a similar cut to simultaneously appear on her enemy's flesh in the spot of her choice. Both cuts quickly disappear. If she takes damage, the injury on her enemy reappears. Eyebite, her third at-will for being human, doesn't really have a visible effect - she just glares at the opponent and then seems to disappear. For Vampiric Embrace, she reaches out her hand toward the target and then makes a grasping summoning motion which causes a small wisp of green energy to briefly form over her outstretched palm before she absorbs it through her skin. Flames of Phlegethos essentially burns them at the stake.
Awesomeness. That flavor has Salem cinnaminaminamin with a hint of Celtic mint. Yum. 
healing worlock endrick blast-you over heal the body & it tends to explode the parts that heal-the curse is the same but extra-strong eyebite causes the eyelids to heal shut not sure what the cosmetic effects of the other powers would be,could be a variant of the infernal or fey pact.
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