As Archer climbed up the mountain, he took a moment to reflect on his past. Every moment it had taken him to get here.
Learning he was an orphan when he was nine.
Joining The Cult of The Raven Queen.
Warring with The Conclave Of Life.
Seeing every person he'd ever loved die when he was only sixteen.
Swearing revenge.
All of the blood spilled. Miles and miles, a trail long enough to make a river.
That delicious scent of death. Those invigorating screams of pain, the desperate begging.
Watching his enemies bleed out, one by one, tasting their life force, watching and laughing as he sensed their life leaving them.
But then The Raven Queen betrayed him.
Without his powers as a cleric, he had nothing.
But if he had nothing, then he would claim it.
And so on he went, searching for any way to reclaim his powers.
And then he found it.
Far to the south of a village named Archos, there was a temple. Inside the temple, there was an altar. It is said that the altar connects to a god, who can grant powers, in exchange for an unknown favor.
And so he journeyed, across deserts, forests, mountains, and oceans to reach Archos.
And now here he stands, at the foot of the Temple Of Asmos.
Steeling himself, and wondering at his sudden fear, Archer forged ahead.
He quickly lost himself in the maze of corridors. It was only by pure luck that he found the altar.
He knelt before the altar and called out, "Oh, shrine, call out to your master, let me regain my powers, let me continue my search for justice."
The shrine heard him, and, in a distant realm, a demon turned as he heard someone summoning him. He'd never been summoned before, not in recorded history. He left in an instant, teleporting to his shrine in a flash of hellfire. "WHAT IS IT YOU WISH FOR, MORTAL?" He boomed out.
Archer bowed his head. "I search for a way to regain my powers and destroy The Conclave Of Light, even as they destroyed my own church."
The demon, whose name was Asmodeus, tilted his head. "And what do I get out of this, mortal?"
Archer cringed back. "Anything, lord. Anything you ask for, I shall provide."
Asmodeus grinned. "Very well, then, we have a deal." He reached out his hand to Archer.
Archer took the hand and shook it. In a flash of blinding light, Archer was no longer in a shrine, but an empty plateau on a high mountain. He looked around, but saw no sign of the demon. He stood, and as he did, he felt power. More than he had ever felt before. SO MUCH POWER. He staggered a bit, before regaining his balance. Then he grinned, a twisted smile forming on his lips. This would do. This would very much do.
Meanwhile, down in Hell, Asmodeus laughed. His plan was going well. Very well, indeed.
Archer is Chaotic Evil, Chaotic Neutral.
He was a Cleric of Death, but after that whole hoopla, he became a Warlock of the Fiend. More specifically, Asmodeus, who, if you don't know the lore, is the LORD OF HELL in D&D.
That was a CliffsNotes version of his past, it is far more detailed, but if I included all of the details, you'd be here all day.
So yeah, that's my character. Feel free to mess with him however you wish. I would suggest giving him some Cleric abilities, and having him be a dual-class, since he does have Cleric training. Y'know?
He has black hair, and dark brown eyes, with pale skin. He has a twisted, slightly insane smile, and dark war paint around his eyes. He is usually dressed in black armor and robes.
He is Chaotic Evil, Chaotic Neutral.
Race: Drow
Class: Warlock (Cleric, previously)
ns 15.158.61.23da2
