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Magic Item: 1d6 + 1d100 ⇒ (5) + (73) = 78
Standard array used.
Male warforged fighter(Eldritch Knight) 3
Medium humanoid, neutral
Armor Class 20 (chain mail, natural armor, shield)
Hit Points 28 (3d10+6)
Speed 30 ft.
STR 16 (+3), DEX 12 (+1), CON 14 (+2), INT 14 (+2), WIS 10 (+0), CHA 8 (-1)
Saving Throws Str +5, Con +4
Skills Athletics +5, Insight +2, Intimidation +1, Perception +2
Senses passive Perception 12
Languages Common, Draconic
Light Crossbow. Ranged Weapon Attack: +3 to hit, range 80 ft./320 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d8+1 piercing damage.
Longsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d8+3 slashing damage or 1d10+3 slashing damage if used with two hands to make a melee attack.
Unarmed Strike. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature.
Hit: 4 bludgeoning damage.
Spells (DC 12, Spell attack +4)
0th(∞/Day)- Dancing Lights, Chill Touch
1st(2/day)-Comprehend Language, Shield, Thunderwave
The last thing he remembered was dying on a muddy battlefield. Bastion had been a man once he thought, perhaps though his memories were just an illusion. Perhaps he'd never been a soldier fighting against an empire of tyranny and corruption with his friends, clinging to some shred of hope that things might change. But in the end it made no difference when the fighting came to his unit, crushed like an egg against the rock of the nameless empire. He thought he might find peace in death but even that sweet embrace was denied to him as he awoke in agonizing pain on a stone slab table. He couldn't move or speak but he saw the mages and their machinery go to work on him. Time slipped and he found he could move again...only his body was no longer his own it was made of metal and oils...what had happened...what had they...his mind shut down again as he recieved orders and fulfilled his duty.
He was somewhere else now killing enemies of his masters, goblins it seemed had infested these woods. He marched forward, a Bastion against the screaming savages as his sword rose and fell cutting them down. There finally in the last hut was a shaman chanting a guttural tongue he did not understand and shaking a fetish of a mummified hand in his direction. There was a charge in the air and something discharged as he drove his sword into the heart of the goblin shaman. Sparks flashed inside his skull and he collapsed as everything went black.
Unknown ages passed before he was discovered by some adventurers in an ancient forest ruins. Relizing he was still alive but in a magical coma they dispelled the magics and freed him, and the magic that had bound his will had long faded. He was extremely weak and the adventurers seeing him as a potential interesting find helped him back to civilization along with magical healing to help restore his strength. He kept the mummified hand of the goblin he found when he woke up as a reminder of what had finally set him free.
Still he wanted to know what had happened to the empire and would seek out answers as he tried to rebuilt up his strength that he had lost over the many years.
As for the scenario I don't have anything yet and personally dislike writing vague assignments so if that is a deal breaker it might be best to pass me over for someone else.