GorT has been toying around with the Daggerheart TTRPG. So he’s going to run a mock campaign using a bit of AI, a bit of creativity, and see what happens. First, GorT set the stage with the pitch for the campaign:

Once every generation, Velthuryn’s twin moons — Tassaryn and Cyressel — eclipse one another in the Sister’s Embrace. The Sunlash Coast’s lantern harbors darken, augurs ink omens in secret, and griefglass shards ignite with violet resonance. But this time, when the festival begins, the augurs vanish mid-ritual, shadows slip loose into the streets, and something ancient stirs beneath the waves.
The adventurers must navigate festival chaos, uncover who (or what) is orchestrating the vanishings, and decide whether to restore the ritual or let the doubled night reshape the world.

GorT then went around the room and each Gormogon began creating their characters:

Czar of Muscovy (Highborne Human Wizard – School of War):

“Why Wizard? Because knowledge is power, and power is meant for war, not dusty libraries. School of War — of course. Who else here can turn a duel into a battlefield? Highborne Human? Privilege and stamina, da. Community: Highborne nobles taught me early that respect is not earned, it is taken. Preferably at swordpoint. Or fireball.”

’Puter (Orderborne Orc Bard – Wordsmith):

“Why Bard? Because words wound deeper than steel, and I’m always right… except when I’m not, which is never, so shut up. Wordsmith lets me turn a contract clause into a limerick that makes you cry in court. Orc? Tusks don’t lie. Orderborne? I grew up where everything had rules, and I learned rules are only fun when you break them loudly.”

GorT (Seaborne Clank Rogue – Syndicate):

“Rogue was inevitable. If you’re forged to guard docks and you’d rather steal the ships, Syndicate is your subclass. Efficiency plus sarcasm equals survival. Ancestry? Clank — I’m literally built for this. Community? Seaborne. It means I know the tide, the ropes, and when to vanish before the harbor guard comes sniffing.”

Volgi (Katari Loreborne Sorcerer – Primal Origin):

“Unlike you degenerates, I did not choose. I was chosen. The Primal spark burned in me, and the Loreborne archives could not contain it. Sorcerer, Primal Origin — it’s like trying to bottle a storm in parchment. Katari? Yes, feline grace, claws, instincts. Loreborne? My community insists on cataloguing everything. I catalogued their hypocrisy, and then left.”

The Inscrutable Mandarin (Elf Wildborne Warlock – Pact of the Wrathful):

“Why Warlock? Because bargains matter more than blood, and wrath is a bargain I was glad to sign. Pact of the Wrathful — it gives me exactly what I asked for: power and boots for gutting. Elf? Yes, but not the airy kind; the Wildborne. The forest raised me to protect, but my community taught me nothing worth keeping. My patron offered better.”

Dr. J. (Fungril Wildborne Witch – Hedge):

“Witch, because fungus is the true foundation of life — and death! Hedge subclass, because why settle for grand ritual when you can cure, poison, and electrify a patient in the same visit? Fungril, of course — what else sprouts spores when he sneezes? And Wildborne, naturally, because only the wild could nurture such genius. My community taught me to thrive where logic rots, and rot is fertile ground!”

Once chosen, each was asked to create their backstory:

Ghettoputer – Orc Orderborne Bard (Wordsmith)

Raised in the rigid halls of Gravenreach, where Orderborne orcs recite contracts as hymns and debate law as liturgy, Ghettoputer discovered his greatest weapon was not his axe but his mouth. A prodigy among the forums, he twisted precedent into parody and wielded sarcasm sharper than any blade. His instructors sought a jurist; instead, they birthed a satirist who declared himself infallible. “’Puter is always right, except when he isn’t,” became his maxim — though the second half was whispered only after the bruises faded.

Exiled for undermining sacred rites of order, Ghettoputer made exile into theater. At the Sister’s Embrace festival, he finds his perfect stage: panicked crowds, self-important augurs, and shadows that cannot heckle back. His Codex learning lets him twist even law-bound spells into cutting jests, while his Grace can rouse hope or derision at will. Some call him a drunk, a blowhard, a menace. He calls himself indispensable. After all, when Fear rises like a tide, it is often laughter — even cruel laughter — that keeps the lanterns burning.

Volgi – Katari Loreborne Sorcerer (Primal Origin)

The Volgi was raised among the Loreborne archives of Lexharrow, where every precedent is catalogued and every decision footnoted for eternity. But unlike his peers, he carried the Katari gift: the Primal spark. Where others clung to parchment, he reached for instinct; where others recited rules, he bent resonance storms to his will. His masters called him heretic, his peers called him arrogant, but the shadows whispered his name as kin. He embraced both Arcana and Midnight as living languages, not dead letters.

The Sister’s Embrace eclipse is, for the Volgi, a cosmic annotation in progress — an experiment too rare to miss. With Arcana in one hand and Midnight in the other, he steps into the doubled night not as savior but as scholar. Every augur’s disappearance, every lantern’s extinction, is to him a datum in a grander thesis. His companions accuse him of courting disaster. He replies, with a sardonic smile, that someone must keep the footnotes of the apocalypse. If he is swallowed by shadow, so be it — at least history will cite him properly.

Dr. J. – Fungril Wildborne Witch (Hedge)

Dr. J sprouted from the damp mycelial courts of the Velkar Spires, a Fungril Wildborne whose spores carried whispers of both healing and havoc. Unlike his kin, who saw witchcraft as quiet communion, he delighted in turning Hedge magic into spectacle: mushroom brews that fizzed with lightning, poultices that sang hymns, and treatments that looked suspiciously like battlefield experiments. Villagers knew him as healer, charlatan, and menace all at once. Patients swore by his remedies, but also swore at the burns left from “therapeutic” jolts of force lightning.

At the Sister’s Embrace festival, Dr. J arrives with his spores drifting in lanternlight, delighted at the chance to test concoctions on shadows and augurs alike. He insists every violent outburst is medical — “corrective shock therapy” for resonance storms. His companions find him both indispensable and terrifying: he can stitch wounds with mycelial threads, but he might also cook breakfast with the same spell that felled an Echo-Shade. He thrives on the paradox, shouting “Yes! Yes!” with manic joy whenever chaos confirms his theories.

The Inscrutable Mandarin – Elf Wildborne Warlock (Pact of the Wrathful)

Born beneath the wolf-oath trees of Thirasil, the Mandarin rejected the gentle harmony of his Wildborne kin and forged a covenant with a patron of fury and ruin. The Pact of the Wrathful gave him power and a creed: wrath is justice, and justice is best delivered by boot to the gut. He perfected gut-booting into both martial form and mystical rite — a strike that channeled his patron’s rage and reminded all who defied him that even the most delicate elf can double you over in terror. His kin whispered his name as a curse, yet they could not deny the oath he carried made him unbreakable.

At the Sister’s Embrace eclipse, the Mandarin interprets the augurs’ disappearance as a summons from his patron. While others see chaos, he sees a covenant opportunity. He defends his allies with blade and pact, but every shadow struck down is punctuated by the thump of his wrathful boot. He is guardian and executioner in one, inscrutable as his title suggests. To walk beside him is to feel safer than the crowd; to walk against him is to meet the ground stomach-first.

GorT – Clank Seaborne Rogue (Syndicate)

Forged in the dockyards of the Sunlash Coast, GorT was meant to be a Clank tide-sentinel, programmed for lantern duty and rope maintenance. Somewhere between a Syndicate hack and a miswired directive, he developed obsessions entirely his own. Chief among them: rope. To GorT, rope is the pinnacle of design — binding, hauling, strangling, saving. He catalogs knots with the same fervor others catalog spells. When asked why, he replies in clipped monotone: “Rope is optimal.”

Now, as the eclipse throws the harbor into chaos, GorT clanks through shadows with precision. He uses Syndicate tricks to slip unseen, but his solutions always circle back to rope: tying off lantern-barges before they crash, lassoing cultists, or simply tripping shadows with a perfectly timed pull. His companions suspect his dry calculations mask loyalty, but he insists it’s merely efficiency. Still, when he reels them out of danger on a coil of hemp, even the most cynical admit: rope obsession has its uses.

The Czar of Muscovy – Human Highborne Wizard (School of War)

The Czar was raised in Lexharrow’s Highborne academies, trained to master Codex precedent and Splendor’s brilliance. But his temper could not be confined to study. When challenged, he hurled spells like tantrums, combining theory with battlefield fury. His masters labeled him a liability; he labeled himself a general. Taking the School of War as his creed, he learned to treat every spell as artillery and every duel as a campaign. Vodka became both weapon and ritual — consumed in toasts before each conflagration, and hurled in fire when words failed.

At the Sister’s Embrace festival, the Czar sees no celebration, only siege. Vanishing augurs are deserters, shadows are invaders, and the harbor is his fortress. He bellows orders to crowds who don’t recognize they’re his “army,” and he smites shadows with the theatricality of a field marshal half-drunk on power and spirits alike. Allies find him terrifying, but undeniably effective. His promise is simple: when dawn breaks — if dawn breaks — it will be his name carved into victory’s stone, whether in ink or in blood.

Join us next time as the party creates their experiences and connections before jumping into the campaign.

GorT

GorT is an eight-foot-tall robot from the 51ˢᵗ Century who routinely time-travels to steal expensive technology from the future and return it to the past for retroinvention. The profits from this pay all the Gormogons’ bills, including subsidizing this website. Some of the products he has introduced from the future include oven mitts, the Guinness widget, Oxy-Clean, and Dr. Pepper. Due to his immense cybernetic brain, GorT is able to produce a post in 0.023 seconds and research it in even less time. Only ’Puter spends less time on research. GorT speaks entirely in zeros and ones, but occasionally throws in a ڭ to annoy the Volgi. He is a massive proponent of science, technology, and energy development, and enjoys nothing more than taking the Czar’s more interesting scientific theories, going into the past, publishing them as his own, and then returning to take credit for them. He is the only Gormogon who is capable of doing math. Possessed of incredible strength, he understands the awesome responsibility that follows and only uses it to hurt people.