Quote Originally Posted by Ghghj2 View Post
I have a rough idea for a lizard folk scout rogue and any suggestions on his character, backstory, motivations for adventuring, connections, etc. would be appreciated.
Sludge is a black, green spotted lizardfolk. His egg was stolen from his tribe and sold to a noble who thought it was at least a pseudodragon, and filled whit rage, tried to vent it out on him, only to get half of his hand bitten off. When the guards rushed in, sludge scurried to an exit, ending up in the city sewers. While time passed, he grew up watching the manners of the people up there, learning about their ways. While still being hunted by the noble, sludge managed to survive in the underground, and eventually found out about the thieves that also lurked bellow, managing to live among them. One thing that really picked his interest was coin. Not its value or significance, but its shape and glimmer and the sound a bunch of them make together.
Phew! I may have gotten too into writing this one! I would have probably kept going had my one hour timer I set as a max for writing these hadn't gone off, so I had to wrap it up!
I really enjoyed writing this...
The "poachers" I wrote were fun and came alive in my head...
The Nobleman also was easy to write...!
And then I left a lot of room (for years between his escape from the noble to what he does for the Thieves Guild) open, but explain how he comes to find them.
I'd - as always - love to hear feedback from you (or anyone reading these, really!) - what you liked, hated, loved, whatever! Let me know!
I thrive on the feedback, it helps keep this thread alive, and it bumps it up so that others can see the thread!
Enjoy!
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Deep into the High Moor, a swamp notoriously infested with trolls, two poachers moved as quietly as they possibly could. Each step in the thick mud seemed to be an attempt at the land itself to try and pry their boots from their feet.

The human, whose hair was plastered to his face due to the humidity turned towards his Tiefling companion. “Are you trying to draw the trolls our way?”

The Tiefling muttered about the mud and muck, “This isn’t what I signed up for.” The Tiefling had ram like horns that were covered in moss with flies and mosquitos buzzing all around. “I don’t understand how anything would want to live in a mud hole like this damn swamp.”

“Because it’s full of water,” the human replied, “and the humidity in the air keeps things moist. Fun little fact about trolls, fire is one of the few things they fear because it’s about the only thing on this world that can harm them.”

“And that’s why you brought me? In case we run into trolls?” the Tiefling name Arus Ramsky asked.

The human named Yourn Blightfall shrugged, “You’re a Tiefling. Can’t your people shoot hellfire from your eyes?”

Arus rolled his lavender colored eyes, “Do you know anything about Tieflings?”

“That you shoot Hellfire from your eyes?” The human replied questionably.

“No,” Arus sighed, “no. We do not shoot ‘hellfire from our eyes.’”

“Well if we get into trouble with trolls, I suppose we improvise then,” he sighed, muttering under his breath that he wasn’t certain why something would look like a demon from the pit of Hell without being able to shoot fire from their eyes.

Hearing a commotion both men moved to investigate what had been happening. What they saw were Lizard People – humanoid looking lizards of various scale tones fighting with a small group of trolls.

Yourn tugged on Arus’ sleeve and pointed emphatically to something on the ground. The Tiefling looked and saw an egg in a nest. “Pseudodragon egg!”

Arus arched an eyebrow. “I am not so certain. I am pretty sure that’s a lizard –“

But Yourn cut him off. “Trust me! I’ve seen and sold plenty of pseudodragon eggs! That’s one! I know what they look like!”

“Similar to how you ‘knew’ Tieflings ‘shot hellfire from their eyes’,” Arus sighed.

“Just grab the egg!” Yourn uttered through clenched teeth.

“Me? Why don’t you grab the egg?” Arus snapped back in a hushed whisper.

“Because you have all of that unholy strength,” Yourn continued to emphatically point at the egg.

“Unholy strength? Where do you get these pieces of Tiefling knowledge,” Arus growled. “I am not grabbing that egg.”

Yourn shook his head and reached over and grabbed the egg. “Now come on! Let’s get out of here! We can sell this pseudodragon egg to a noble for thousands of gold! We will be set!”

“I’m sure your bar tab at The Last Chance Inn is probably close to a thousand gold,” Arus sighed as Yourn stuffed the egg – rather carelessly – into his bag. The two quickly made their escape – both of them losing a boot each to the mud’s siphoning powers, opting to leave them behind.


Back at Waterdeep, Yourn had arranged to meet with Untar Jorankhan, a noble who had recently taken up residence and known for his exotic tastes.

“What is it you bring me today, hunter?” Untar asked, his accent thick.

“A pseudodragon egg,” Yourn smiled; pulling the egg out of his backpack.

“It looks like an ostrich egg,” Untar replied, unimpressed.

Arus shook his head rolled his eyes.

After explaining how he had climbed some unnamed mountain, up high, above the clouds and plucking this extraordinarily looking plain egg from the nest of a mother pseudodragon (all of which was met with constant sighs from Arus for each additional lie Yourn stacked on to his “magnificent story”), Untar finally agreed to purchase it for the agreed deal of one thousand gold.

After being paid, Arus approached Yourn as they left Untar’s home and said, “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it’s not been. At all. Since I’ve known you, actually. With this,” he jiggled the pouch of gold in his hand, “I am going to cut my losses and go my own way from here on out.”

Yourn laughed. “Good luck! You’ll be crawling back to me, friend!”

“Please don’t call me friend,” Arus assured him.

“But we are friends!” Yourn cheered and pat Arus on the back.

“Touch me again and I swear to the darkest gods I will shoot hellfire from my eyes and burn you alive where you stand!” Arus growled, his eyes flaring.

“I thought you said you couldn’t…” But Yourn knew better than to press it any further and quickly excused himself and headed for The Last Chance Inn.”

Arus looked at Untar’s home and shook his head, whispering, “Damn fool.”


It’d been two weeks before the egg had hatched; and when it did Untar was disappointed. “This pseudodragon doesn’t have wings! My daughter will be furious!” He reached out to touch the creature to see if the wings were simply tightly pressed against its body, only to have it lunge at him and take a bite at his finger.

He pulled his hand back and looked at the blood it had somehow drawn. “I do believe I have been tricked. Guintin, take this foul thing out back and kill it.”

“How about,” a voice said from behind him, “I pay you five hundred gold to take it off your hands.”

Untar turned, startled to see the Tiefling from several weeks ago. “You and your friend swindled me! Told me this thing was a pseudodragon!”

“Two things,” Arus growled. “First, that human was not my friend. Second, he is the one who lied and swindled you. Not me. If you’d been listening closely to me, I was sighing the entire time that human trash was weaving his fantastic tale. But you were too caught up in his tale to want to hear anything else.” Arus threw the bag of five hundred gold on the table. “Now that you know you’ve been swindled, I am willing to give you my half of what was paid to take the creature off of your hands.”

“Wait!” Untar eyed Arus. “What are you not telling me? Why are you willing to pay five hundred gold for this beast?”

“Because I know where it came from and I can take it back home,” Arus explained. “You were just going to kill it. Now you can let it live and get five hundred gold back. Seems like a winning situation for you.”

“You don’t strike me as the compassionate type,” Untar eyed Arus. “There’s something you’re not telling me, demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” Arus growled.

“I’m afraid I can’t take your gold,” Untar smiled, believing there was something more to this recently hatched creature. “Get the other five hundred of my gold and the beast is yours.”

“Rest assured that the other five hundred gold you gave that human wastebasket is already gone,” Arus retorted. “All you’re getting is that five hundred gold there.”

“I think not,” Untar whistled and the room filled with the guards. “Try anything and these men will run you through. Now run along, find your friend, and get the other five hundred gold and I will consider selling this beast back to you.”

Arus growled and left the estate furious. He found Yourn at the Last Chance Inn, passed out in the northern corner. Arus searched him and as he had suspected, not even a copper coin to his name. Arus shook his head and punched Yourn who barely made a sound of acknowledgement.

Arus spent the next few weeks scouting Untar’s estate; but Untar must have suspected Arus might try to steal the beast as the security nearly tripled from the last time Arus had snuck into the mansion. It had been nearly six months that Arus agreed to an assortment of odd jobs – some of them landing him working with Yourn again, much to his dismay – to earn the other five hundred gold. When he approached the estate he was escorted by heavily armed guards to Untar.

“I bring the other five hundred,” Arus said, throwing the gold on the table.

“You’re too late!” howled Untar thrusting his hand forward, revealing that two of his fingers had been severed. “The damn beast bit two of my fingers and escaped down a ventilation shaft before my guards could kill it!”

“Where is it now?” Arus asked.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be so furious! Turns out the blasted thing has eluded my guards who are scouring the city day in and day out in search of any information leading to the capture. And don’t think for a moment I was going to capture it to hand it over to you! No! I want it captured so I can cut the beast’s fingers off before I kill it. I will keep this five hundred gold to pay for the medical bills that your lies brought upon me!”

Arus once again found himself broke – and with Yourn’s constant lies to blame, yet again.

The “beast” was in fact, as Arus had believed a lizard person. With velvet black scales, with green spots dotting his entire body, the young lizardman learned to live on the streets, sticking to dark alleyways that most guards he noticed, avoided, and typically came out at night where his dark skin complimented his ability to move in the shadows and steal whatever he needed. He adopted the name “Sludge” – a word that he’d heard the humans call mud and muck, in which he lived in.

By the age of sixteen, Sludge’s courage continued to grow and he grew braver about going out during the day, and traveling deeper and deeper into the sewers. He had seen signs of life and other humanoid tracks in the mud of the sewers and wondered if it had been the guards or someone else.

He discovered a Thieves Guild that went by the name of “The Blackstone Brigade” who were interested in Sludge’s ability to remain nearly undetectable in pure darkness; even against those who could see in low light, Sludge’s coldblooded reptilian nature made him difficult to spot.

The leader of the guild, a Half-Orc named Burg’graw Kattle’dorn recruited Sludge for some of the lower end jobs to see how good he was before promoting him to some more… lucrative tasks.

All the while, just thirty feet above him, Arus continued to look, even to this day for signs of the young beast…