Forest Whitaker





I was born and raised in some small halfling-dominant village in what is geographically the Switzerland of DnD land. My family ran an inn, as has been for several generations. The village is rather remote so we rarely had visitors, but still we managed just fine with what passed as a pub beside the lobby. Among us there were four: father, mother, sister, me.

At 12 years old, the village was raided by a small band of mindflayers. Being the remote happy-go-lucky village that it is, we had no knowledge or experience in warfare, and were easily overpowered – enslaved. 4 years go by doing the mindflayers’ bidding: the men were subjected to grunt work; women 16-30 were tentacle-raped mercilessly; the finest maidens were collected for sacrifice.

In time I had become able to fluently speak Deep Speech, and it was time to be a total asshole. My sister turned 15 and had become quite the looker, so I suggested to the “collector” that she be queued up for sacrifice, and convinced him that I had a knack for identifying the best of our kind. I was then provided a halfway decent abode and regular meals. Over the next 3 months or so I had gained the mindflayers’ trust and could freely wander about unshackled. The fools… I took this opportunity to “visit” the graveyard that some doofus decided should be placed atop the highest hill about half a mile outside the village. So off I go, through the enclosed graveyard and out an opening in the back, totally unprepared for the long journey to wherever.

I stumbled around for a while, and managed to find my way to a small grove through which a river ran. ‘Twas an eerie place, with a dozen crows at every turn. I cupped my hands for a cool drink of water when a mist washed over me and dulled my senses. I was then approached by who I later discovered was Elias, an archfey of shallow waters. He showed me a vision that crossed the river to an out-clearing where a human troupe performed their act. When I awoke the crows that had encompassed my every direction had all disappeared. I crossed the lake via a toppled tree and followed the direction the vision had bestowed upon me. I reached an out-clearing and found not a troupe of performers, but a caravan manned by a merchant and his two henchman who were more than willing to give me a ride to their next destination having heard what I’d been through. I totally stole a few pieces of silver on top of the two he gifted at our parting. I bought me some clean clothes, delicious food, and a license to join the one guild that accommodated my interests. That unnamed guild for warlocks covered the expenses to travel 3 towns over and provided standard living affairs. Little did I know that that license fee was a total ripoff, but whatever. I had it coming…

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Forest Whitaker

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