Vaal Storm Touched
LE Kobold | Storm Sorcerer | Far Traveler
"Oh I do so love art. Not of myself, as perfection is hard for man to capture, you see."
Attributes
AC 13 • HP 7/7 • Speed 30
STR 6 (-2) | DEX 16 (+3) | CON 13 (+1)
INT 10 (+0) | WIS 12 (+1) | CHA 15 (+2)
Saving Throws: Constitution, Charisma.
Skills: Deception +4, Persuasion +4, Perception +3, Insight +3.
Tools: Lyre.
Languages: Common, Draconic, Primordial, Dwarvish.
Arms & Armour
Weapons | Quarter Staff, Spell Casting Focus - A stuffed Blue Dragon Doll.
Appearance
Age: 19 | Height: 2'9" | Weight: 26lbs
Vaal is a Kobold of somewhat average height, a near aerodynamic build, and smelling faintly of ozone and rainwater. The last being a likely result of his magics. His shoulders are narrow, and his entire form seems to slope and roll smoothly with the lack of hard edges away from a few areas. His two slitted eyes are the color of amber. The majority of his scales are blue, and he holds many features of the very chromatic he’s kin to.
On his snout is a small single horn that appears to be two horns fused together. And his slender tail has thing but defined plates of scales rolling down the entire length. He even has the ‘ears’ built out of long exaggerated fins of a tarnished gold hue.
He wears a surprisingly ornate tabard of his homeland. It does say something about status, likely fooling those into believing he was a merchant or a lower nobility. The majority of the cloth is a dull white. With darker threads creating embroidery of thunderheads. It holds a single long baggy sleeve which completely engulfs the kobold’s gloved right hand. While half a skirt seems to offset the lack of symmetry by stretching down to the Kobold’s ankles on the left side. A dark purple belt, leather hidden in cloth, with amber edges wraps around his waist. Hanging from it at the front is a single stretch of cloth of the same coloration stretching down acting as a loincloth. And the same in the back, though split down the middle for the tail.
He also wears a thick veil of some sort. The way it is cut allows it to lay over his eyes and down the length of his snout. The edges of the cloth hanging just above his lips. There’s two holes in the back for his horns to poke through, and a split at the front for the single horn on his nose. Once again purple in hue, but this time with amber embroidery of striated clouds lining the entire length and curling away from where the eyes should be. There, the cloth is cut away and replaced with a dark cloth. The cloth is slightly opaque, blocking enough sunlight to make it bearable for the Kobold to walk in the day… but not enough to completely negate the sensitive nature of his eyes. Up close, nearing whisper distance, one could see the shrowded amber color of his eyes, but far enough away it’s just black.
And then finally hanging from his neck, under his tabard is a small simple sapphire tear.
Name: Eye of the Storm ( The Lyre He Caries ) | Size: Medium | Weight: 1lbs
A wooden lyre that sweep upwards towards the middle from the side, and back down again. The wooden chassy has been stained dark at the outside, and slowly grows into a lighter brown the further inside it goes. It is decorated with burned engravings depicting circling striations of clouds growing more violent the further away from the center it goes. The only blemish is a terrible scar, a gash caused by a severe burn marring nearly a half of the instrument. Even so, it remains polished polished and lacquered.
The typically soft notes befiting the instrument has been modified to hold a more basey sound. The notes drag on much longer, causing the notes to reverberate in the air as if it was in a quiet auditorium. It was never meant to be sinister, but artistically serene and peaceful. Like the eye of a storm it's self... where there is safety, calm, and light.
The instrument was a gift he had commissioned to be given to the one he loved. A lover long gone and still mourned. He keeps it in the name of her memory. Taking as much care for the instrument as he does his own appearance. Rarely playing it. And fiercely disallowing anyone to take it out of its case, even less to touch it.
Personality
Main Mood: Flamboyant | Fave Food: Rare venison and Candied meats | Pet Peeve: Being Mocked | Style of Battle: On my terms, never yours.
Vaal is most certainly a vain, selfish and arrogant individual with a love for art, fashion, and beauty. He holds himself with a regal posture, as if he was some noble of grandstanding in the world. In fact, he adamantly believes he’s an actual dragon… reborn. Everything he does has to be beautiful in some way. If he’s lounging, it’s as if he’s posing for a painting. When he’s casting spells, there’s a practiced grace to them. Even when walking, he seems to find a way to draw attention to himself. Naturally, he is quick to come off as abrasive and pompous. And as massive as his ego is… his pride is two fold as fragile. Despite his flaws… he does maintain some redeeming qualities. He’s loyal and certainly trustworthy when you’ve earned his respect. There are even hints of empathy and compassion hidden in that sea of an ego.
Despite being incredibly manipulative, he strongly believes in order, family, and tradition. And holds men of honor, especially dragonborn in his highest respects. But he also strongly detests those who are so blinded by their duty or honor, that they fail to see reason and commit to difficult decisions. If one man of three potential victims is accused, with no way to prove who’s innocent… he’d sooner hang them all than to let them go. As the ends justifies the means. In this case, the removal of one dangerous man at the cost of two innocents, to maintain stability of a city.
Origin
None of the Kobold tribes of the Zakhara deserts seems to know where this Kobold had came from. He held none of the tribal markings or scents. He was discovered collapsed in the sun. He held grave wounds of acidic damage, and was wrapped defensively around a damaged lyre. The shamans had planned to leave him there. That was till they noticed the latent arcane energies inside Vaal. Even his appearance closely resembled a blue dragon. Dragon Wrought. Kobolds much closer to their ancestors who tends to show great magical power. Seeing a potentially useful member, they had collected him. Though, they soon began to regret their investment.
When they asked the recovering Kobold details of his life, they got strange answers. His name sounded as if there were parts of it missing. His memories were hazy and seemed erratically out of order. Repeated questions always yielded the same results. Even stranger was when his eyes fell on the lyre, he let out a long forlorn wail that echoed through the warrens.
And worse, where the question of his sanity had been brought to question, was he claimed he was a dragon. He claimed he soared the highwinds, was the master of the storms, his very own sea. A horde he once held, and now long lost. He did not just claimed. He poised, held the arrogance, mannerisms, and more. Vaal truly believed his own lies for truth. The shamans were not having this. It was a grave risk to their tribe, and so they had him exiled.
Vaal felt himself deeply offended. Yet… there was something deep in him that compelled him northward. It was not the desire to seek answers - he somehow felt he had them even if he couldn’t bring them to the forefront of his thoughts.
When they asked the recovering Kobold details of his life, they got strange answers. His name sounded as if there were parts of it missing. His memories were hazy and seemed erratically out of order. Repeated questions always yielded the same results. Even stranger was when his eyes fell on the lyre, he let out a long forlorn wail that echoed through the warrens.
And worse, where the question of his sanity had been brought to question, was he claimed he was a dragon. He claimed he soared the highwinds, was the master of the storms, his very own sea. A horde he once held, and now long lost. He did not just claimed. He poised, held the arrogance, mannerisms, and more. Vaal truly believed his own lies for truth. The shamans were not having this. It was a grave risk to their tribe, and so they had him exiled.
Vaal felt himself deeply offended. Yet… there was something deep in him that compelled him northward. It was not the desire to seek answers - he somehow felt he had them even if he couldn’t bring them to the forefront of his thoughts.
Writing Sample
So how did Cassandra meet the Kobold? It’s a slow tale, not quite worthy of songs… not that it’s wanted by the kobold. But, like many grand tales of upstarting adventurers undergoing wanderlust, it all began in a tavern…
---
Night. The streets were cascaded into darkness, while the light of the moon had been absorbed into the rolling clouds overhead. What remained was a gentle blue wispy glow about the size of a copper piece from so far below the skies. The thunderhead that rocked the skies and unsettled the air is long gone, leaving only the riddens in its wake. The drizzle after the storm, where the world seem calmer, more peaceful, save for the occasional flash of light. Droplets of water pitter pattered against the paved streets. The occasional gust of wind blue a cloud of water through the air to buff those who wandered the streets at night. It all added up to a gentle din. A din to which people ran to from shelter to shelter. A din to which puddles seemed to forever dance. A din that a dragon(Kobold) enjoyed.
Vaal Storm Touched, By the Grace of the Winds, Weaver of the Highstorms, Harold of Thunder, Scourge of Kites, Guider of Ships, the Grand Gem of the Fakhara sat in the sheltered patio of “The Thespian’s Clutch”. A lavish tavern located in Balder’s Gate, just across the street from a theater inside the proper district. His gaze was directed to the sky. A longing look filled his gaze. Like a sailor anxious to get back to sea. His daydream had overtaken him, soaring through the clouds. The gentle kiss of lightning. The defining roar of thunder…
Blink. He had snapped out of his daydream with a jolt when something had sloshed against his claw. His gaze dipped down slowly taking note of his claw which had been circling the rim of his glass. His eyes dipped lower, and saw that his carelessness had caused the glass to tip slightly and splash his wine across his claw. He sighed softly, and then noticed the world was gray and back. The candle at his table, and various others had gone out.
Still… it was hardly an inconvenience. His eyes were so well adjusted for the dark. A fact many did not know or forgot. A fact that some strangers eyeing him from an alley across the street did not consider. There was a small glint of brandished steel… a knife. Footpads then. They likely saw him leave the theater during the interlude… and desired an easy mark. A kobold was certainly an easy mark. But not a dragon. He tapped his claw in that small scented puddle consideringly.
With a swish of his tail, he raised his soaked claw and curled the digits. A low mutter left his lips, and his fist cracked to life with bright jagged tendrils of electrical sparks. What wine there was on his hand burned away and left a peculiar fragrance. The light illuminated himself, and the area around him with a soft blue glow. And the glow dimmed as the sparks died out… leaving a single curling trail of electricity that danced between his index and thumb. He placed it down on the puddle, lighting it a blaze.
One single flame rose from that puddle and waved gently in the air. The Kobold dabed his finger into the burning contents, drawing up a dollop of fire. Then flicked it onto the candle’s wick and lighting it. His claw gently laid down on the puddle, extinguishing the flames. It rose up once again, curling and allowed the Kobold to rest his chin on the back of it.
His gaze directed towards the footpads. A small smile curled on his lips. Seemingly wicked if the intent was known. What would such magic do to someone who’s wet? The footpads seemed to have the same thought. They shifted uncomfortably. They slowly began to round there way closer, then paused once realized that Vaal was confidently looking there way. His gaze had been trailing them expectantly. Even though the candle light wouldn’t have thrown enough light to expose them.
“Run along now, darlings… less you wish to leave your leavetakings to take your chances… and dance with jack o’ the shadows?” Vaal’s voice rang out softly in a lilt. Just loud enough to be heard over the gentle song of the rain. It held a strange accent. His words seemed to slur together, despite not showing hints of intoxication. The difficulty of understanding… was lessened with each new word being punched at the starting letter.
The message was clear, and well understood by the footpads. Vaal had ensured them of their plans tonight. If they went through, someone would die. And that someone would not be him. Messy at the very least. It was as if everything was stacked against them. The weather, the lack of light, his magic and potential range, and his smaller size being able to easily take advantage of what cover there was.
To the Kobold’s delight, the footpads spun about and hurried off beyond his sight. He thoughtfully pinched his goblet, and gave the contents a swirl. How many times has he been or nearly accosted? Many instances he had simply ran. Some, he got out of by the skin of his teeth and dumb luck. And few were fights under his terms. The kobold gritted his teeth into a scowl. Oh how he loathed feeling so vulnerable that even a small advantage felt like throwing dice loaded for failure with death! And why was it that the mediocre always sought to destroy their betters!? As if it was their fault they live such dour lives!
“Excuse me, is this seat taken.” The Kobold looked up slowly with a raised brow. He found himself looking up to a woman dressed in green.
“And you are….?” The Kobold began, his gaze flitting along her form, scanning her attire as well as what visible weapons she may carry. His gaze drifted back to where the footpads had been thoughtfully, and returned to the woman. Was she with them? No… that attire says something different about the woman.
“Cassandra.” The woman replied curtly with a dip of her head. She remained quiet even as the Kobold raised a brow. He had been expecting a house name to follow. But… as seconds grew uncomfortably close to a minute he relented.
“Vaal Storm Touched, your pleasure,” The kobold drawled, waving a hand towards the seat across from him. As she sat down, he continued. “Now… humor me while I am being so terse… but why have you approached me when there are many other seats? Most assume that when one is sitting along, they are not expecting… company.”
“Oh… nothing else than that incredible display of power you’ve shown.”
Though mild, the flattery did cause the Kobold to perk up. Vanity and pride swelling up beyond what many may have believed to be capacity. It was blinding really, enough for him to miss that gleam in her eye.
“You saw that? It was nothing, a mere sideshow act amidst a sea of incredibility. Just enough to keep the rabble in check." He took a drink after poising himself in his chair. Leaning back, but not quite slouching. Tail curled in the air, arcing up to curl under his chin. "Now, darling, why are you here?”
---
A discussion was drawn under the time limit for the Theater’s crier to announce that the show would be continuing. A discussion for a job within armed service. A discussion that certainly piqued Vaal’s interest as a means of removing his vulnerability. The pay was nice, but not having to look over your back for some clout with a sword seeing a mere Kobold? That was like laying the sky before him, even if it was only temporary.
---
Night. The streets were cascaded into darkness, while the light of the moon had been absorbed into the rolling clouds overhead. What remained was a gentle blue wispy glow about the size of a copper piece from so far below the skies. The thunderhead that rocked the skies and unsettled the air is long gone, leaving only the riddens in its wake. The drizzle after the storm, where the world seem calmer, more peaceful, save for the occasional flash of light. Droplets of water pitter pattered against the paved streets. The occasional gust of wind blue a cloud of water through the air to buff those who wandered the streets at night. It all added up to a gentle din. A din to which people ran to from shelter to shelter. A din to which puddles seemed to forever dance. A din that a dragon(Kobold) enjoyed.
Vaal Storm Touched, By the Grace of the Winds, Weaver of the Highstorms, Harold of Thunder, Scourge of Kites, Guider of Ships, the Grand Gem of the Fakhara sat in the sheltered patio of “The Thespian’s Clutch”. A lavish tavern located in Balder’s Gate, just across the street from a theater inside the proper district. His gaze was directed to the sky. A longing look filled his gaze. Like a sailor anxious to get back to sea. His daydream had overtaken him, soaring through the clouds. The gentle kiss of lightning. The defining roar of thunder…
Blink. He had snapped out of his daydream with a jolt when something had sloshed against his claw. His gaze dipped down slowly taking note of his claw which had been circling the rim of his glass. His eyes dipped lower, and saw that his carelessness had caused the glass to tip slightly and splash his wine across his claw. He sighed softly, and then noticed the world was gray and back. The candle at his table, and various others had gone out.
Still… it was hardly an inconvenience. His eyes were so well adjusted for the dark. A fact many did not know or forgot. A fact that some strangers eyeing him from an alley across the street did not consider. There was a small glint of brandished steel… a knife. Footpads then. They likely saw him leave the theater during the interlude… and desired an easy mark. A kobold was certainly an easy mark. But not a dragon. He tapped his claw in that small scented puddle consideringly.
With a swish of his tail, he raised his soaked claw and curled the digits. A low mutter left his lips, and his fist cracked to life with bright jagged tendrils of electrical sparks. What wine there was on his hand burned away and left a peculiar fragrance. The light illuminated himself, and the area around him with a soft blue glow. And the glow dimmed as the sparks died out… leaving a single curling trail of electricity that danced between his index and thumb. He placed it down on the puddle, lighting it a blaze.
One single flame rose from that puddle and waved gently in the air. The Kobold dabed his finger into the burning contents, drawing up a dollop of fire. Then flicked it onto the candle’s wick and lighting it. His claw gently laid down on the puddle, extinguishing the flames. It rose up once again, curling and allowed the Kobold to rest his chin on the back of it.
His gaze directed towards the footpads. A small smile curled on his lips. Seemingly wicked if the intent was known. What would such magic do to someone who’s wet? The footpads seemed to have the same thought. They shifted uncomfortably. They slowly began to round there way closer, then paused once realized that Vaal was confidently looking there way. His gaze had been trailing them expectantly. Even though the candle light wouldn’t have thrown enough light to expose them.
“Run along now, darlings… less you wish to leave your leavetakings to take your chances… and dance with jack o’ the shadows?” Vaal’s voice rang out softly in a lilt. Just loud enough to be heard over the gentle song of the rain. It held a strange accent. His words seemed to slur together, despite not showing hints of intoxication. The difficulty of understanding… was lessened with each new word being punched at the starting letter.
The message was clear, and well understood by the footpads. Vaal had ensured them of their plans tonight. If they went through, someone would die. And that someone would not be him. Messy at the very least. It was as if everything was stacked against them. The weather, the lack of light, his magic and potential range, and his smaller size being able to easily take advantage of what cover there was.
To the Kobold’s delight, the footpads spun about and hurried off beyond his sight. He thoughtfully pinched his goblet, and gave the contents a swirl. How many times has he been or nearly accosted? Many instances he had simply ran. Some, he got out of by the skin of his teeth and dumb luck. And few were fights under his terms. The kobold gritted his teeth into a scowl. Oh how he loathed feeling so vulnerable that even a small advantage felt like throwing dice loaded for failure with death! And why was it that the mediocre always sought to destroy their betters!? As if it was their fault they live such dour lives!
“Excuse me, is this seat taken.” The Kobold looked up slowly with a raised brow. He found himself looking up to a woman dressed in green.
“And you are….?” The Kobold began, his gaze flitting along her form, scanning her attire as well as what visible weapons she may carry. His gaze drifted back to where the footpads had been thoughtfully, and returned to the woman. Was she with them? No… that attire says something different about the woman.
“Cassandra.” The woman replied curtly with a dip of her head. She remained quiet even as the Kobold raised a brow. He had been expecting a house name to follow. But… as seconds grew uncomfortably close to a minute he relented.
“Vaal Storm Touched, your pleasure,” The kobold drawled, waving a hand towards the seat across from him. As she sat down, he continued. “Now… humor me while I am being so terse… but why have you approached me when there are many other seats? Most assume that when one is sitting along, they are not expecting… company.”
“Oh… nothing else than that incredible display of power you’ve shown.”
Though mild, the flattery did cause the Kobold to perk up. Vanity and pride swelling up beyond what many may have believed to be capacity. It was blinding really, enough for him to miss that gleam in her eye.
“You saw that? It was nothing, a mere sideshow act amidst a sea of incredibility. Just enough to keep the rabble in check." He took a drink after poising himself in his chair. Leaning back, but not quite slouching. Tail curled in the air, arcing up to curl under his chin. "Now, darling, why are you here?”
---
A discussion was drawn under the time limit for the Theater’s crier to announce that the show would be continuing. A discussion for a job within armed service. A discussion that certainly piqued Vaal’s interest as a means of removing his vulnerability. The pay was nice, but not having to look over your back for some clout with a sword seeing a mere Kobold? That was like laying the sky before him, even if it was only temporary.
Features & Traits
Darkvision - You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.
Grovel, Cower, and Beg - As an action on your turn, you can cower pathetically to distract nearby foes. Until the end of your next turn, your allies gain advantage on attack rolls against enemies within 10 feet of you that can see you. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a short or long rest.
Sunlight Sensitivity - You have disadvantage on attack rolls and on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.
Pack Tactics - You have advantage on an attack roll against a creature if at least one of your allies is within 5 feet of the creature and the ally isn't incapacitated.
Grovel, Cower, and Beg - As an action on your turn, you can cower pathetically to distract nearby foes. Until the end of your next turn, your allies gain advantage on attack rolls against enemies within 10 feet of you that can see you. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you finish a short or long rest.
Sunlight Sensitivity - You have disadvantage on attack rolls and on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.
Pack Tactics - You have advantage on an attack roll against a creature if at least one of your allies is within 5 feet of the creature and the ally isn't incapacitated.
All Eyes On You - Your accent, mannerisms, figures of speech, and perhaps even your appearance all mark you as foreign. Curious glances are directed your way wherever you go, which can be a nuisance, but you also gain the friendly interest of scholars and others intrigued by far-off lands, to say nothing of everyday folk who are eager to hear stories of your homeland. You can parley this attention into access to people and places you might not otherwise have, for you and your traveling companions. Noble lords, scholars, and merchant princes, to name a few, might be interested in hearing about your distant homeland and people.
Tempestuous Magic - Starting at 1st level, you can use a bonus action on your turn to cause whirling gusts of elemental air to briefly surround you, immediately before or after you cast a spell of 1st level or higher. Doing so allows you to fly up to 10 feet without provoking opportunity attacks.
Prepared Spells
Spell Save DC 12 | Spell Attack Modifier +4 | Max Spells Prepared 2
An event in your past, or in the life of a parent or ancestor, left an indelible mark on you, infusing you with arcane magic. This font of magic, whatever its origin, fuels your spells. See Spells Rules for the general rules of spellcasting and the Spells Listing for the sorcerer spell list.
Cantrips - At 1st level, you know four cantrips of your choice from the sorcerer spell list. You learn additional sorcerer cantrips of your choice at higher levels, as shown in the Cantrips Known column of the Sorcerer table.
Spell Slots - The Sorcerer table shows how many spell slots you have to cast your sorcerer spells of 1st level and higher. To cast one of these sorcerer spells, you must expend a slot of the spell’s level or higher. You regain all expended spell slots when you finish a long rest.
For example, if you know the 1st-level spell burning hands and have a 1st-level and a 2nd-level spell slot available, you can cast burning hands using either slot
Spellcasting Ability - Charisma is your spellcasting ability for your sorcerer spells, since the power of your magic relies on your ability to project your will into the world. You use your Charisma whenever a spell refers to your spellcasting ability. In addition, you use your Charisma modifier when setting the saving throw DC for a sorcerer spell you cast and when making an attack roll with one.
Spellcasting Focus - You can use an arcane focus (see the Adventuring Gear section) as a spellcasting focus for your sorcerer spells.
Cantrips - At 1st level, you know four cantrips of your choice from the sorcerer spell list. You learn additional sorcerer cantrips of your choice at higher levels, as shown in the Cantrips Known column of the Sorcerer table.
Spell Slots - The Sorcerer table shows how many spell slots you have to cast your sorcerer spells of 1st level and higher. To cast one of these sorcerer spells, you must expend a slot of the spell’s level or higher. You regain all expended spell slots when you finish a long rest.
For example, if you know the 1st-level spell burning hands and have a 1st-level and a 2nd-level spell slot available, you can cast burning hands using either slot
Spellcasting Ability - Charisma is your spellcasting ability for your sorcerer spells, since the power of your magic relies on your ability to project your will into the world. You use your Charisma whenever a spell refers to your spellcasting ability. In addition, you use your Charisma modifier when setting the saving throw DC for a sorcerer spell you cast and when making an attack roll with one.
Spellcasting Focus - You can use an arcane focus (see the Adventuring Gear section) as a spellcasting focus for your sorcerer spells.
Gust - Components: V S | Range: 30ft | Duration: Instantaneous
Shocking Grasp - Components: V S | Range: Touch | Duration: Instantaneous
Shape Water - Components: S | Range: 30ft | Duration: Instantaneous or 1 hour
Ray of Frost - Components: V S | Range: 30ft | Duration: Instantaneous
One Medium or smaller creature that you choose must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be pushed up to 5 feet away from you.
You create a small blast of air capable of moving one object that is neither held nor carried and that weighs no more than 5 pounds. The object is pushed up to 10 feet away from you. It isn’t pushed with enough force to cause damage.
You create a harmless sensory affect using air, such as causing leaves to rustle, wind to slam shutters shut, or your clothing to ripple in a breeze.
Shocking Grasp - Components: V S | Range: Touch | Duration: Instantaneous
Lightning springs from your hand to deliver a shock to a creature you try to touch. Make a melee spell Attack against the target. You have advantage on the Attack roll if the target is wearing armor made of metal. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 lightning damage, and it can't take reactions until the start of its next turn.
The spell's damage increases by 1d8 when you reach 5th level (2d8), 11th level (3d8), and 17th level (4d8).
Shape Water - Components: S | Range: 30ft | Duration: Instantaneous or 1 hour
You choose an area of water that you can see within range and that fits within a 5-foot cube.
You manipulate it in one of the following ways:
• You instantaneously move or otherwise change the flow of the water as you direct, up to 5 feet in any direction. This movement doesn’t have enough force to cause damage.
• You cause the water to form into simple shapes and animate at your direction. This change lasts for 1 hour.
• You change the water’s color or opacity. The water must be changed in the same way throughout. This change lasts for 1 hour.
• You freeze the water, provided that there are no creatures in it. The water unfreezes in 1 hour.
If you cast this spell multiple times, you can have no more than two of its non-instantaneous effects active at a time, and you can dismiss such an effect as an action.
Ray of Frost - Components: V S | Range: 30ft | Duration: Instantaneous
Make a ranged spell attack against a target within range. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 cold damage and has its speed reduced by 10feet for one round. The Spell's damage increases to 2d8 at 5th level, 3d8 at 11th, and 4d8 at 17th level.
Fog Cloud - Components: V S | Range: 120ft | Duration: Concentration, Up to 1hr
Mage Armor - Components: V S M:A piece of cured leather | Range: Touch | Duration: 8 hrs
You create a 20-foot-radius sphere of fog centered on a point within range. The sphere spreads around corners, and its area is heavily obscured. It lasts for the duration or until a wind of moderate or greater speed (at least 10 miles per hour) disperses it.
At Higher Levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, the radius of the fog increases by 20 feet for each slot level above 1st.
Mage Armor - Components: V S M:A piece of cured leather | Range: Touch | Duration: 8 hrs
You touch a willing creature who isn’t wearing armor, and a protective magical force surrounds it until the spell ends. The target’s base AC becomes 13 + its Dexterity modifier. The spell ends if the target dons armor or if you dismiss the spell as an action.
Gold & Inventory
Gold | 9gp, 0sp, 0cp
• Poorly wrought maps from Fakhara that depicts where you are in faerun
• Eye of the Storm (Lyre)
• Fakharan Sapphire Necklace (Worth 10gp )
• Stuffed Blue Dragon Doll (Spell Focus)
• Eye of the Storm (Lyre)
• Fakharan Sapphire Necklace (Worth 10gp )
• Stuffed Blue Dragon Doll (Spell Focus)
Other
This Kobold's character color is 00aeef
Vaal's personal memories are hazy, broken, and jumbled to the point of being out of order. Like it was all crammed unceremoniously back into the lizard's head with no care for capacity or order. Many things are obscured to him, moments of great emotions are lucid, and his dreams are frequently reliving those memories.
Vaal firmly believes himself a dragon.
While the character is listed Lawful Evil in alignment. This does not necessarily mean he's a murderous monster who's actions will jeopardize all that is good and holy. The Kobold is very much capable of good deeds, and heeding the laws respectfully. He even yearns for some sense of order. Though often it comes with some baggage - whether driven by hidden motivations, immoral actions that does serve good, or even using the law in his favor.
Dice Roller
