10 Ways to Make an Overpowered Barbarian in Dungeons and Dragons [https://static3.thegamerimages.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/Dward-Barbarian-Clobbers-Enemies-Dungeons-And-Dragons.v1.jpg?q=50&fit=crop&w=740&h=536]
https://www.thegamer.com/dungeons-and-dragons-how-to-make-overpowered-barbarian/
The epilogue of what happened before.
[https://scontent.fsyd6-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/33345866_2042019329373189_8148985765896912896_o.jpg?_nc_cat=101&ccb=2&_nc_sid=730e14&_nc_ohc=2Vb71ycMSH4AX8c2CZQ&_nc_ht=scontent.fsyd6-1.fna&oh=e4a93984f37cd60120f04df4c88b4e00&oe=5FCF531C]
World of Coroleya by Kane Crawford
As Gregor's lifeblood dribbled out beside him, he felt himself being drawn back to the day he'd first met the woman with violet eyes...Gregor's expression twisting into one of confusion at the violet-eyed woman's strange request, dubious as to why she would want her own brother killed.
And if as though perceiving his puzzlement, she took him by the arm and leaned in closer to him. Her face inches away from his, her breath smelling of sweetness itself and violet colored eyes swirling with life and beauty. “My brother Tazrael wishes to see me dead and so he must die or he will kill me.”
Awash with mind-numbing fear at the very prospect of losing her, he tried to pull her in closer to him, afraid that she would somehow disappear from his grasp. "Please, please tell me what you wish me to do and I shall do it!”
Smiling affectionately, she lifted an arm up to caress his cheek. "You, my brave warrior, will travel to the island of BloodTides and kill my brother's precious mages, leaving a message for him. You will let him believe that my father Lord Sezrath is responsible for this bloodshed, then you'll return to me. Together we will then hire Shadow Hunters to slay a few friends of my father's.”
“But why my lady?”
She pursed her red lips tightly together to create a seductive smile that caused Gregor to quiver beneath her hot gaze. “Why, my sweet, Gregor? To start a war between my brother and father, of course. And while they tear each other apart, I will grow stronger.”
Gregor grinned like a little boy at the cleverness of her plan, but still had one question that he wished to speak, although a part of him was terrified at the thought that it would anger her and send her running away from him to choose another. “Why pick me?”
The woman stared at him with those lavender-colored eyes that could see through the depths of his soul and replied, "Because you are like me Gregor, a half-demon cast off into the nether regions of the world. For a thousand years and a thousand more you have done the bidding of others. Traveled to various worlds I could never reach and seen the very fabric of time itself. You have the power to change it all, my dear Gregor.”
And as the realization of what he was crashed over him, Gregor felt himself being tugged back to reality. Hands roughly shaking him awake. The voice inside of his head whispering, “I am sorry, Gregor, but I must take these memories away from you once more. You are not yet ready for what comes next, but fear not you will hear from me again…”
Groaning from the stiffness he felt in his bones, he opened his eyes up to see a little boy standing watch over him, his face smeared with dirt and ragged clothes frayed at the edges.
“Where am I?” Gregor asked.
The boy silently pointed towards a tavern behind him to where a sign read “Welcome to Harthorn.”
The words triggering a series of flashbacks including his own near-death at Darzak's hand. The last thing he remembered was seeing the battleax cracking open his ribs. He touched his miraculously healed chest, before gazing about him at the mangled-up corpses strewn all across the street, the battle stretching for many miles in both directions and wondered if there were any more survivors besides himself. A part of him wishing to see the look on Caroline's face when she realized he was still alive, but then again it didn't matter much to him anymore. He had survived and she had gotten the vengeance she had sought after for so long.
Rubbing the mud that was caked on his cheek, he stood back up and patted the boy on the head to thank him for waking him up, before turning and striding out of town. The four suns blazing high above him, bringing forth a new day…
~*~
(You begin this game with 10 health points, and 10 gold pieces.)
Two or maybe three weeks later.
And here he was traveling back north to Harthorn, the message he had received pushed into his hands by a woman he’d never met before, and read, “come quickly, Gregor. I have urgent news." Signed Caroline Asignai, Captain of the Wingdart Chapterhouse.
Almost wary of coming back, he had considered ignoring the letter, and simply going on as he had. Taking on the odd jobs here and there, looking for another company of mercenaries to join, only he was curious. Curious to learn how she knew he was still alive? Curious to learn why she needed him now?
The thing was, he was fairly certain it had to be a trap, so had decided to take the less direct route through Orkeylium, and book passage on a ship, then see what was what.
The sparsely populated countryside was empty of most life besides the border forts guarded by the King's Legions, and the constant raids from their neighboring goblin tribes. The land that he passed through, hard-bitten by winter with a thick layer of frost, and wide blue leaves that drooped down from strange trees, and patches of vegetation here and there. The herds of borels he saw in the distance, pressed in close together, as round white eyes watched him pass by.
Following the King's Road, a path paved with heavy brick stones, he was trailed by pixies that darted about him, tiny forms flickering in the breeze as they made fun of his smell. Which made no sense since he had washed himself in the river, four maybe five days ago. It was hard to keep track sometimes.
(Do you shoo the pixies away?)
Hand waved irritably from side to side, Gregor tried to send them away, only the creatures took it as a game, and darted in closer to him. This time attacking his hair with snide remarks, when a young man stepped out of the underbrush, carrying a battered bow with an arrow nocked and fitted to fraying strings.
+1 Morale.
(Do you ignore them?)
With no way to drive them off, he tried to ignore them as best he could, and press on along the road, when a young man stepped out of the underbrush, carrying a battered bow with an arrow nocked and fitted to fraying strings.
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The dirt-covered face that peered up at him, so covered in grime and dirt, Gregor had difficulty imagining what could possibly be under there, before he thrust his way past him.
The boy's two startling blue eyes, widened in shock, before a reedy voice piped up, “Stop right there!”
(Continue on down the road?)
Only Gregor was in no mood for games, and continued on when he heard the twang of the bow, and felt a sting of pain across his shoulder.
-1 HP.
(Stop and talk to him.)
Eyes rolling in annoyance, Gregor turned to deal with the boy, when he heard the twang of the bow, and saw an arrow fly past him.
Eyes livid with rage, he spun around to confront the boy, and snarled, “why you little shit stain!” and began to give chase after him, the little fool scampering back off the roadside, when a second face appeared out of the thick underbrush, a girl, much younger than he, that was wearing a faded pink dress with flowers along the bottom. The wide innocent brown eyes that stared up at him, forced Gregor to a halt, before he had to remind himself that it was not her. Though the thought that she had somehow found her way back to him, caused a knot of pain in his chest, before he smothered it down.
“Where are your parents?” he asked.
Brave, despite trembling with fear, the boy who clearly hadn't eaten anything in days, quickly stepped out in front of her, trying to shield her with his body, bow raised again, when Gregor simply snatched it out of the fool's grasp.
Huddled together tightly, eyes wide with fear, Gregor wondered what they had seen, before he reluctantly said, “I suppose killing you would be wrong? Wouldn't it?”
Though if Gregor had expected an answer from them at all, all he got were dark scowls, and angry mutters from the boy, while the girl huddled behind him, peering up at Gregor with honey brown eyes. The pair of them made an odd couple with one lanky and tall, and the other about knee high that could probably be crushed underfoot.
(Leave them there on the roadside.)
Not really feeling in a charitable mood to take in strays, Gregor left them where they were, and continued along the King's Road. The path through Orkeylium was long and treacherous, and he had no time to coddle children.
Only it wasn't long after that, that Gregor realized that the two of them were following him, and picked up the pace. The one glance he shot over his shoulder, revealing the boy holding the little girl’s hand in his, and watching Gregor nervously as they kept a wide gap between them.
(Take them with you.)
Sweeping a glance to either side of the road to make sure there weren't any more of them, he waved at them to follow him. “Well come along, you snot-nosed pukelings. I’ll keep you alive, leastwise until the next village, then you're on your own. And don’t go moaning to me about food, cause I don’t have any. Blasted hobs got most of it a few miles back, and I’ll wager they’d enjoy the two of you a lot more.”
Then wordlessly he marched away at a brisk trot, the children staring after him with startled looks of surprise, before he felt more than heard them trail after him. The one glance he shot over his shoulder, revealing the boy holding the little girl’s hand in his, and watching Gregor nervously as they kept a wide gap between them.
+1 Morale.
Eyes back on the road, Gregor noticed the land around him, become much more fertile with dotted green hills. The farms he saw through the trees, made to grow, purple stone flowers, red deviled hearts, and blue briar mays. As well as an assortment of grains that would be shipped to the Capital. The flowers, a type of spice that could be crushed and stirred into food.
Curving through meadows fresh with frost dew, he heard the boy pant for breath, and saw the young man cradling his friend in his arms as he struggled to keep up with Gregor. The girl clearly passed out from exhaustion.
Groaning at the thought of another delay, he swung back suddenly, and snapped, “just give her to me.”
The look of fear that swept through the young man so strong, Gregor thought he would try and run, when Gregor suddenly closed the gap, slipped the rail-thin girl out of his hands, and swung her onto his shoulder, the whole thing taking no more than two seconds.
Ashen-faced with shock, the boy's face immediately turned a shade of beetroot as he tried to take her back, only Gregor was moving again. The long sweeping strides he took, easily outstripping the boy as the kid panted, “Give her back! Give her back! Give her back to me damn it!”
But as it was, they were making much better time now, and eventually the boy fell into a sullen silence, his blue eyes gleaming with fury as he stared hot pokers into Gregor’s back, when to his surprise, Gregor asked, “what’s your name?”
He wasn’t exactly sure what made him think to ask, only that he couldn’t keep thinking of them as just the boy and girl. By the looks of them, he supposed they had to be humans, and yet he knew of only a handful, who would travel this far south for trade.
Wary of being pulled into some kind of trap, the boy spoke slowly, his eyes never leaving the girl’s for an instant, “Lytan,” the strange name, giving no clue at all to the boy’s origins, although if Gregor remembered correctly ‘Lytan’, was meant to be some sort of insult to werewolves.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Gregor asked, “And the girl’s?” and as though sensing that they were talking about her, she jerked awake in his arms. Lytan who was holding his hands up to hush her cries, when he replied, “Her name is Sara. Are you going to kill us now?”
(Say, yes, say yes you're going to kill them, and eat them?)
Eyes glinting with danger, Gregor gave his most menacing smile, and growled, "yes. Yes, I am going to kill you, then eat you," then laughed in delight at seeing their faces turn pale, and yellow liquid stream down Lytan's legs. The girl in his arms, passed out with fear, when Gregor laughed, "now hurry up. I want to be at the next village by sundown."
+1 Morale.
(Better not.)
Eyes glinting with danger, Gregor gave his most menacing smile, and growled, "yes. Yes, I am going to kill you, then eat you," then laughed in delight at seeing their faces turn pale, and yellow liquid stream down Lytan's legs. The girl in his arms, passed out with fear, when Gregor laughed, "now hurry up. I want to be at the next village by sundown."
+1 Morale.
~*~
After that, the sluice gates seemed to open, and the boy that called himself Lytan kept asking him question after question. Where were they going? What did he want with them? What was his name? How come he smelled like rotten fish? Where did he get that scar on the back of his neck? Could he get one too? How many people had he killed? Why didn’t he cut his hair? And was it always that messy? And on and on he went, until Gregor was praying for death, and wondering if he should have left them both behind to die, when he saw the dull gleam of metal in the starlight. The low hills, dips in the ground around him, a good place for an ambush. The sudden coming of night, making him very much aware that he might not make it to the next village in time before his hackles rose up, and he dropped down to his knees. The boy stumbled into him from behind, when Gregor pushed him down as well, and whispered, “hide, and stay quiet. I will tell you when it’s safe to come out.”
He then handed the girl back off to him, looked over his shoulder to make sure the boy had followed his instructions, before Gregor darted off into a curving run off the road, and into the hillside. The winds that gusted against him, cool against his skin as he scanned the area for signs of an ambush.
Lightly wooded, and dotted by a thin sprawl of trees to the north of him, he lay in a crook in the slope, when he saw a heavy-set orc stalk down from one of the hills. The moon curved axe at his belt easily giving away his position, and armor made of black leather mail that jingled as he moved. The helmeted head that peered into the stars, revealing wide tusks, dark green skin, and a face chiseled from stone.
What do you do?
Choice 1. Go around the sentry?
Choice 2. Try to take him from behind?
Choice 3. Create a distraction?