Borwyndre the Master of Shapeshifting

Role

Chapter 6

The throbbing pain of the cavern tunnel's stone surface reverberated
throughout Borwyndre's skull. The image of the Hook Horror filled his mind -
beyond filling it. In an instance his point of view was changed. The
sensation of his thick carapace protecting his form, clawed appendages were
deadly weapons, but some former sensation remained within him. That lucidity
of consciousness despite the recurring nightmare was more haunting than ever
as he could see the heat signature of his svirfneblin form supported by the
tunnel wall, and Diannada directly in front of this current form. A sensation
washed through his mind and body, he could not retain this physical change,
not without accepting the magic weaved about him.

Rage, anger, all manner of emotion provoked his raised appendages and he
slashed out with all that which pained him. Cutting into his sister once,
twice, his hooked feet piercing her bleeding form as it lay incapacitated
upon the tunnel floor.

The glint of a dagger spinning through the air caught its attention, the heat
dissipating from its grip quickly. As it struck, the nightmare shattered like
shards of glass.

Borwyndre gasped for air, staring in horror at his own hands, his flesh paler
than normal. The hatred of magic and images of killing his own sister keeping
his form rigid for more than a minute.

Role

Chapter 5

Diannada was faltering with her reliance on magic. Borwyndre was once more
sailing through the air, his head first to touch the tunnel's stone wall as
it had done so in every preceding nightmare.

As his own mind fought against the inevitable darkness, this time the
nightmare almost felt lucid. His anger and desperation manifested into
something more, something that could actually hurt the Hook Horror near his
sister's crumpled form. Intellectually, he knew his dagger would do little...
nor horns or even claws. Rage swelled and an innate sense of his body
changing form overtook his dreaming consciousness. This form had some kind of
plating of its own, but nowhere near the thickness of the Hook Horror's. The
claws felt as if they could crack stone even, but a sense of something else
was acutely present.

The whip scorpion raised itself, spraying a wide flow of acid, splashing the
Hook Horror and all near it. The sound of acid sizzling upon cavernous stone,
exoskeleton and the flesh beneath seemed to echo with cacophonous resonance.
The dream felt different, the Hook Horror twisted its body to face Borwyndre,
its eyes burning with death.

Borwyndre woke abruptly, feeling a kinship with the whip scorpion, and yet
not purging the sounds of its acid mixing with his sister's blood.

Role

Chapter 4

The recurring vision was unusual once again. It had been a long time since
this first ever took place... while his emotions were similar each time,
fighting through the agony of his head slamming against stone, the crumpled
form of his sister encircled by a pool of her own spreading blood. The anger
and desperation to overcome his impending unconsciousness driving his
concentration. The first occurrence, he felt his blood heat as magma might,
his hands becoming hooves while his posture twisting from a bipedal stance to
something of a beast. A naturally awareness of his twisted horns atop his
skull prompted a charge towards the hook horror... and he woke, grasping at
his form, becoming aware of his natural appendages. Nothing had changed,
except a sense of his goat, akin to the mountains, and the strengths of its
form.

This time in his nightmare, as the blood boiled, he felt coarse hair
sprouting from his entire body, an awareness of claws dug and scrapped
against the tunnel's stone floor. His teeth ached to find and plunge
themselves into flesh - the hook horror would have to do, as the jackal
sprung willing itself to find any crack in the hook horror's exoskeleton.

The nightmare ended as Borwyndre shook his head vigorously, trying to clear
his mind and sensing each finger, each toe... natural once again. The desires
and hunger of the Jackal lingered, imprinted into his mind someplace.

Role

Chapter 3

Borwyndre was standing before a strange oracle, avian in appearance. It had
been over a decade since his sister was killed in the underdark, and his
resentment towards magic and his family had only grown. He could remember his
sister's death as if it had happened yesterday, and probably because he
dreamed it every time he allowed himself to slumber.

In each vision, he could see her faltering with magic, her reliance upon it
was her demise that day. This was why he grew resentful towards his family,
as they would not have a child of theirs make a mockery of the guild. They no
longer welcomed him once he vowed to not use magic, so Borwyndre was
all-to-happy to leave their way behind. He sought a different path, and one
that could still align with the awe-inspiring strength and combat prowess the
beasts of Thera exuded.

The oracle grinned, if not with obvious amusement, as Borwyndre proclaimed
his hatred of magic. The oracle clicked its beak and simply said, "So be it.
May you repudiate all forms of abjuration..."

Role

Chapter 2

A horrendous crescendo of scraping claws and falling stone suddenly echoed
off of every exposed surface, muddling the source and deafening any creature
within the vicinity. Borwyndre and his sister instinctively turned, but
neither could readily make out the rear guards' despite their acute
infravision. The echoes had only just began to grow feint before a sudden a
series of bending metal and a sickening wet crunch began assaulting their
ears in earnest. Borwyndre had only a moment to whisper Hook before a strange
object barreled at his face, missing by only a breath. It was a misshapen
helmet, belonging to one of the two guards.

Borwyndre had his dagger in hand with practiced form, and he could hear his
sister mumbling an incantation. A high-pitched shriek was the only heralding
sound as the Hook Horror charged down the descent and what transpired next,
required mere seconds. His dagger swung high, in what might have been a
successful parry, were it not for the sheer strength and momentum of the
beast. The claws of its left arm broke through Borwyndre's attempted defense,
reaching his face - due to his stance, he was able to throw his weight with
the direction of the creatures swing, even calling his innate ability of
stone skin.

He hit the wall hard, searing pain running through every inch of his body,
but especially his face. Despite fighting to remain conscious, he was able to
see his sister struggling, failing to cast her magic, her concentration
shattered. He couldn't breath well, the combination of adrenaline and blood
filling his mouth threatened to suffocate him on the spot. Realizing his
dagger still clutched in his hand, he threw it and struck true. While the
dagger failed to due anything notable to the beasts hardened carapace, it did
draw its attention.

By now, Borwyndre was struggling to register the heat signatures of anything,
his vision growing dark. He could only seem to note that the lead guard took
advantage of the distraction, but he could not seem to locate his sister.
Only a crumbled pile of something registered on the tunnel floor where she
was only standing moments before... then everything was gone.

Role

Chapter 1

The party of svirfnebli made their way along the sides of a large cavern
wall, serving as a primary passage with smaller tunnels off-shooting from
either side at periodic intervals. They were to take the third opening on the
left-hand side, partially notable for its initial and abrupt descent.

The purpose of this party was a training exercise, unique to the clan of
Borwyndre and primarily serving his elder sister, Diannada. She had just
progressed far enough within her guild, achieving the mental strength and
comprehension to complete the incantation of shapeshifting. Borwyndre, on the
other hand, while younger and naturally further behind in studies was still
far behind his own peers. While others were pouring over tomes and books, he
often found himself trying to make sure he didn't stab himself as often with
the sharp end of his dagger. His success varied day-to-day.

The siblings were positioned within the middle of the party, with a single
veteran guard leading and two others guarding the rear. While arguably a
light guard, their destination was a dead-end tunnel renown in size and a
section of space fed by an underground spring. An abundance of rothe would
await, serving as both a food source as well as prey for Diannada to work
upon her new incantation.

As they reached the tunnel's opening, the front guard made the initial
descent, signalling to both Borwyndre and Diannada to follow. Neither
sibling, nor the front guard noticed the Hook Horror perched high within the
cavern above the tunnel.

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