REQ = One party member has been given the option of a free level of Warlock, and is pursuing the class path now.
The PC is being coerced into a quest or service to their patron. This service is to prove themselves, by defeating a weaker agent of the patron and completing a mission they are pursuing, thereby gaining the additional power. Though this may seem to come from their dreams, or other benign place in which the intent is to seem as if the power wants the PC to live beyond death for their honor, fame, and glory, it is in fact a ruse.
In your sleep, your dreams are rife with strange wails and moans. In your mind’s eye, one set of diseased, skeletal hands after another passes something forward – seemingly like a mile away and thousands of hands. Cowled giant figures shed frosty grave mist as what can only be the Lich Lords scream at you from a distance of seeming miles. Their host of minions ripple as the object makes its way to you. It is filthy when it arrives – finally its placed in your hands. It writhes and twists in your grasp, and your mind recoils. Finally, you force yourself to look down. In horror, you behold a gross, octopus-like tentacle covered in toothed mouths that hiss and spit at you! It stretches out and wraps around your neck.
Screaming, you are wrenched from sleep. Your eyes are bulging, you cannot breathe. You all struggle to cut and pull the tentacle away. Your companions see you struggling with an invisible force as they do the same. You finally exhaust yourself, your breath burns and you are covered in sweat. It must look foolish, you think to yourself, as your hands grasp air as if they held a tentacle – though you know it must be a nightmare.
As the vision fades, the mouths make one final whisper, all turning towards a single one of you to spout their sibilant command: “To master the powers of hadar of the void, seek the tower of Gruxand – he guards the secrets of your master that you must take!”
The necromancer Gruxand, in the Vale Evander has managed to put together a set of rituals, prayers, and ancient formulas that will grant him the barrier against death he seeks. It is not the typical Lichdom or undeath in any way, but means of masking his thread in the weave from the devourer. A portion of Rastilions Diabolique was used, such knowledge is corrupting and forbidden! A means of avoiding death, as if time has no meaning, requires great sacrifice. The deny the ending of death, many lives must be snuffed out. Mog Creoch, though mostly mindless, senses his own vulnerability and sends one of his corrupted shamans of Pine Tribes to hunt down the necromancer, kill him, and destroy (eat) all the materials he finds.
A great shaggy man, 40’ tall with antlers stands before you. He grasps a struggling larva like worm with both hands. It thrashes and hisses, lunging for you. He easily holds it at bay, and whispers to it, his eyes catching yours as he does so. After a few moments of this strange lullabye, the worm ceases its struggles. The man’s voice booms out, “Such a simple creature, truly a gift to be able to cause so much trouble.” You cannot tell if he means you or the worm. “It is a good thing Mog lives on instinct, and is not blessed with the gift of scheming. This is about as complex a web as i’ve ever seen by the worm, and it near tore your thread from the pattern. Even you ended up eating the flesh of the dead – it’s rare for the devourer to have a sense of humor. Alas, I have little control over the mindless devourer, but it serves its purpose. I offer you something different. If you give up your pursuit of its power, I will allow you a new life. Youth, but your own memories are mostly intact. You may re-imagine yourself, and the worm’s powers will break you down and reform you as that.
Basics: Same stats (rearranged), mostly same skills (max light armor proficiency), and feats can be switched. If the character was a spell caster, they gain the feat: Magic Initiate. Sanity -2, but proficiency in it.
A skeletal hand reaches out and anoints you with grave earth: “Go forth now my servant. You have given me service, and so the pact is sealed. Do not call upon me again unless you want to truly see how far into the grave earth you would bury your soul for power! Know that I may test you again.”