So I realized I haven’t updated my D&D character status in a long while. Let me compile my current character situations now.
Ryl’lil Raet - Became a pirate lord with a Griffon mount, razed hell across the differing planes after her party tore up a super book that couldn’t be bought back together. She used her new power for fun and frivolity.
Felshee Sway - Currently either a low level devil or dead. Fell for a devil’s lie and paid the price for bargaining too much.
Keiko Buu (Chara Buudolf) - Trapped in the Abyss after foolishly opening a portal alone, nobody knows where she is or how to rescue her.
Tyra’Xiachayl - Fighting a vampire lord in the North.
Ayl’lil Raet - Resting up in Rhaz after retrieving the skull of a giant for a collector.
Taddeo Salvaza - Preparing the delve into the devil worshiper ruins after meeting some new friends.
This relates to my “Last Session” notes for Felshee.
Feel free to read and let me know what you think.
In a familiar poorly lit and even worsley cobbled claustrophobic alleyway Felshee stared him down. The object of his obsession was within his grasp. After 20 years of running Master Dontae was in front of him. He was old, a greying beard descended from his chin which it hugged like a blanket. In spite of his appearance Felshee knew how deadly this man could be. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here. But this time would be different.
The tabaxi took a cautious step forward.
“Come now, Felshee. Is this how you want to die? Like a scared kitten?” Dontae laughed, his cocky nature showing against his former student. He hadn’t even assumed a stance.
Felshee gritted his teeth, letting them show. His eyes flashed with anger and hatred towards this man.
“No words? Cat got your tongue.” He laughed again, covering his mouth. “Very well. But I must admit, it’d be a crime if I were to go back on the promise I made Arisha. She meant so well after all, and you...well what did you mean?” His laughter stopped. Dontae now stared directly into Felshee’s angry eyes. “You meant nothing. You were a dirty killer, a murderer given cause, and you even failed at that. You ran away from us, from your family.”
Felshee took a breath, going to speak. But Dontae’s voice overpowered his own.
“And for what? Did you change the world for the better?” He scoffed. “Did you bring back someone who could stop us?” His words cut into Felshee’s soul. “You ran, and you drank. And now that you’re back you cannot run away anymore. It’s just me and you. You cannot escape your fate, Felshee. So go ahead, try and hit me if you’re able. But we both know you’re not. You’ll never win, we’ll be here forever. Fighting in this, a place of your own creation, together. Even if you think you’ve won, you haven’t. You’ll come back here every time I beat you, and I’ll meet you here. Every. Single. Time.”
Felshee screamed, his rage overtook him. Charging forward he bore his claws at this man.
Dontae smirked. “Full of openings...:”
Felshee continued charging forward, claws ready to strike. From the shadows he caught the glimpse of a small blur, forcing itself between him and Dontae. A hooded and cloaked short figure, less than 4 feet off the ground landed from a rooftop between the men. Almost immediately it began attacking the Tabaxi, revealing no weapons but fists attempting to strike at him.
His defenses waned quickly. All of the training, all of the experience, his lifetime of running and learning what he could did little to stem the tide of the relentless strikes directed towards him. One hit turned into two, then into three before he found himself overwhelmed by an onslaught of blows. Felshee fell backwards to the ground, his face and body bloodied from the assualt. The figure moved atop his chest, grabbing his neck and holding him in place. She raised a hand, a sadistic grim crossed her face, necrotic energies surged to her palm as her hood fell revealing a young looking gnomist woman.
“Nobody will mourn you. You should consider it a mercy.” She whispered before driving the hand into Felshee’s skull.
He woke with a scream, sitting bolt upright in the fine bed he’d paid 5 gold for. He looked around the room. All of the trappings were still in place, the window was open and blew in the cold Sidi air. He walked over to it, looking out over the city below. His fists tensed up. They were out there somewhere, doing everything Felshee had failed to stop all those years ago. He touched his heart briefly. Down to his very core he knew that even now he was no match for them.
Imma start posting updates on what happens with my DnD characters in a series I’ll call “Last Session”. In this one we’ll discuss what happened with Felshee. My drunken master monk who’s at 9th level and is 45 years old.
So things seemed to be going well. Our party had recently had a skirmish with pirate lords in the East as we were on our way South towards the desert city of Sidi.
Our ship ran into some traders on what amounted to a trash island and we obtained a 40k spell scroll for 200gp. Score for our wizard, Horatio, for excellent bartering with Goblins who were judging scroll value by weight.
After that we landed in the town of Tarz, a small fishing village about a day’s ride from Sidi. We spent the night getting plastered and found there were two bars. A quiet one and bar with various dancers including lots of demi-human’s that were either Tabaxi/Human or Minotaur/Human. Felshee got up on stage and got us free drinks for the night.
Next day we made our way to Sidi were we were going to meet an old friend. Juliet, a rich and powerful woman, and a love interest of our rogue although 16 years his senior. On the way to the rich district we pass by a merchant selling exotic animals, our rogue buys a talking raven and we free a trapped Pixie from the merchant’s cages.
Now at this point Felshee is jumpy. He spent 20 years in Sidi after he abandoned his monastic order because they were demon worshipers and he took part in the massacring of a small village for them. He was told they were here. Part of him needs to end his former master, part of him wants to keep running.
We reunite with Juliet and she and our rogue, Wyther, make plans to get down and dirty that night. The hotel she’s staying at is rather rich for Felshee’s blood and he wants to visit some of his old haunts. He goes to lead them to a tavern to try and gather information regarding potential abduction and replacement of the city’s leader.
As he opens the door BAM. 138 necrotic damage. Felshee only has 65HP. He is dead. Like outright gone. Who is before him? Why the person he’d been successfully running from for the past 20 years, Cordiana Manslayer. A gnome and a 19th level Way of the Long Death monk. She blew 10ki points and did 20D10 damage to Felshee. She’d been hunting him since he left the order, and he was probably one of the only people to evade her for this long. Everyone else she hunts has a suspicious habit of dying suddenly. Funny that.
A small fight ensues with Cordiana where she and an assortment of monks under her command proceed to dunk on our party hard.
She only stops when Dontae himself shows up, while Felshee is dead, and calls her off. But not before she outright kills Wyther and knock our cleric, Ciel, out. Only because our wizards, the other being Mina, found Ciel’s bag of potions did we survive.
Fast forward to the evening. Felshee ends up staying in the rich hotel with the party. Splitting seems like a bad idea. During the night Horatio puts alarm on Felshee’s door just in case. It goes off.
He runs to Felshee’s room to find him about to be murdered by Cordiana again. Luckily she bolted when he made it known he was there. Felshee is not safe in Sidi.
