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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:<\/p>\nGorT 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:<\/p>\n
Once every generation, Velthuryn\u2019s twin moons \u2014 Tassaryn and Cyressel \u2014 eclipse one another in the Sister\u2019s Embrace<\/strong>. The Sunlash Coast\u2019s 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.
\nThe 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.<\/p><\/blockquote>\nGorT then went around the room and each Gormogon began creating their characters:<\/p>\n
Czar of Muscovy (Highborne Human Wizard \u2013 School of War):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy Wizard? Because knowledge is<\/em> power, and power is meant for war, not dusty libraries. School of War \u2014 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<\/em>. Preferably at swordpoint. Or fireball.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\u2019Puter (Orderborne Orc Bard \u2013 Wordsmith):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy Bard? Because words wound deeper than steel, and I\u2019m always right\u2026 except when I\u2019m 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\u2019t lie. Orderborne? I grew up where everything had rules, and I learned rules are only fun when you break them loudly.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
GorT (Seaborne Clank Rogue \u2013 Syndicate):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cRogue was inevitable. If you\u2019re forged to guard docks and you\u2019d rather steal the ships, Syndicate is your subclass. Efficiency plus sarcasm equals survival. Ancestry? Clank \u2014 I\u2019m literally built for this. Community? Seaborne. It means I know the tide, the ropes, and when to vanish before the harbor guard comes sniffing.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Volgi (Katari Loreborne Sorcerer \u2013 Primal Origin):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cUnlike you degenerates, I did not choose<\/em>. I was chosen. The Primal spark burned in me, and the Loreborne archives could not contain it. Sorcerer, Primal Origin \u2014 it\u2019s 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.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
The Inscrutable Mandarin (Elf Wildborne Warlock \u2013 Pact of the Wrathful):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy Warlock? Because bargains matter more than blood, and wrath is a bargain I was glad to sign. Pact of the Wrathful \u2014 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.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Dr. J. (Fungril Wildborne Witch \u2013 Hedge):<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n\u201cWitch, because fungus is the true foundation of life \u2014 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 \u2014 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!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Once chosen, each was asked to create their backstory:<\/p>\n
Ghettoputer<\/strong> \u2013 Orc Orderborne Bard (Wordsmith)<\/em><\/h2>\n
Raised in the rigid halls of Gravenreach<\/strong>, 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. \u201c\u2019Puter is always right, except when he isn\u2019t,\u201d<\/em> became his maxim \u2014 though the second half was whispered only after the bruises faded.<\/p>\n
Exiled for undermining sacred rites of order, Ghettoputer made exile into theater. At the Sister\u2019s Embrace festival<\/strong>, 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 \u2014 even cruel laughter \u2014 that keeps the lanterns burning.<\/p>\n
\nVolgi<\/strong>\u00a0\u2013 Katari Loreborne Sorcerer (Primal Origin)<\/em><\/h2>\n
The Volgi was raised among the Loreborne <\/strong>archives of Lexharrow<\/strong>, where every precedent is catalogued and every decision footnoted for eternity. But unlike his peers, he carried the Katari <\/strong>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.<\/p>\n
The Sister\u2019s Embrace eclipse is, for the Volgi, a cosmic annotation in progress \u2014 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\u2019s disappearance, every lantern\u2019s 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 \u2014 at least history will cite him properly.<\/p>\n
Dr. J.<\/strong> \u2013 Fungril Wildborne Witch (Hedge)<\/em><\/h2>\n
Dr. J sprouted from the damp mycelial courts of the Velkar Spires<\/strong>, 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 \u201ctherapeutic\u201d jolts of force lightning.<\/p>\n
At the Sister\u2019s 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 \u2014 \u201ccorrective shock therapy\u201d 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 \u201cYes! Yes!\u201d with manic joy whenever chaos confirms his theories.<\/p>\n
\nThe Inscrutable Mandarin<\/strong> \u2013 Elf Wildborne Warlock (Pact of the Wrathful)<\/em><\/h2>\n
Born beneath the wolf-oath trees of Thirasil<\/strong>, 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 \u2014 a strike that channeled his patron\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n
At the Sister\u2019s Embrace eclipse, the Mandarin interprets the augurs\u2019 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<\/em> 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.<\/p>\n
\nGorT <\/strong>\u2013 Clank Seaborne Rogue (Syndicate)<\/em><\/h2>\n
Forged in the dockyards of the Sunlash Coast<\/strong>, 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 \u2014 binding, hauling, strangling, saving. He catalogs knots with the same fervor others catalog spells. When asked why, he replies in clipped monotone: \u201cRope is optimal.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n
\nThe Czar of Muscovy<\/strong> \u2013 Human Highborne Wizard (School of War)<\/em><\/h2>\n