Roleplaying in Faerun 2
Hey I’m back again, now that I’ve gotten away from the Chaos Gods for a second I though I’d warp back to Faerun and talk to another one of my alter egos for some tips on roleplayings in the Forgotten Realms. Quick question, if you remember the realms you play in and I remember the realms I play in; then which of the blooming realms in Faerun are actually forgotten. I think WotC owes us some money back for false advertising here, lying bastards. Anyway, without further ado let me introduce you to my namesake…Tryke Dimwauld, Tiefling Wizard extrordanaire.
The world is basically pain, its just that most everyone doesn’t realize it. I drift from time to time, age to age, the cursed blood calling and torturing me while the rest of the masses drift by in ignorance of the pain and evil around them.
Tryke Dimwauld
Mystic Theurge of Mystra
Waterdeep
Tiefling are angst personified. Sure you’ll get the occasional tiefling who is aware of the “Devil Inside” (I love that song, just saw the video on VH1 after 15 years and the song still rocks) and just wants to get his inner evil freak on. But really, how boring is it if you choose to play that old archetype. Instead, the Tiefling gives you the opportunity to examine a character who by his very genetic makeup is formed of pure evil but longs for something more. Their body will actually ache to do evil; it will crave, desire, and even need evil and yet the body and soul war against that causing an inner conflict that is the stuff of pure roleplaying gold. Not only that, the physical deformities that are part of parcel of being a tiefling give you an ever greater opportunity to roleplay some complex issues which can be difficult to integrate with ease into a traditional character. Tiefling are often portrayed as simple thieves or perhaps stealthy warriors but I contend that the tiefling make ideal wizards. Why you may ask. For the simple reason that as you progress as a wizard, the amount of power available to you becomes unimaginable eventually. At some point, if you really are intent on playing your wizard as a “real” person, they are going to have to come to grips with some difficult questions of morality, limitations, and goal setting. Absolute power corrupts absolutely and all that. How much more emotion can you get out of a character who is not only combatting the real challenges of that type of power, but is also wrestling with a natural predilection for the infernal. Ponder that. Anyway, just a quick little insight into a Faerun race that I love. On that note, I’ll leave you with a little scene that illustrates a little bit of the potential for the tiefling in Faerun. Good night all.
Self-Awareness
Tryke sat in the mud, looking around him with furtive glances as he desperately tried to come up with some way to get some money to eat. In the twelve miserable years of his life he had never known kindness, and he’d certainly never known love, but this had never frightened him. Years on the street has ground a child’s inner vulnerability away and left a blunted hardness. Yet for all that, he had been truly frightened this morning when he had woken and found the first beginnings of some bone like spines beginning to protrude from his back. It was almost unbearable. To be unloved and abandoned was normal in the alleys and docks of Amn but this…this was something altogether different. Tryke started as something splashed hard into the water puddle to his front….coming back from his reverie he was horrified to see his hand clasped around the throat of a young child, a fellow inhabitant of the shadows. The child’s face was blue, the lips deepning to a dark purple. A warmth of exultation spread through Tryke, as though his very blood rejoiced in the light of life that was quickly draining from the rapidly weakining youngster, his mud soaked body thrashing more and more weakly as Tryke continued to squeeze. Tryke’s grip was like steel, the warmth in his blood lending him a strength which malnutrion had long ago stolen from him. With a cry of agony Tryke released the boy and kicked him away, clutching his hand as if fearing that it would seek the boys life on it’s own. As the child ran off screaming, Tryke huddled in the mud and wept. Wept for the simple life of a normal vagrant that he was somehow sure was coming to an end.
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