#tiefling — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #tiefling, aggregated by home.social.
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So, we're playing through Baldur's gate again and I thought I wld share some of my early photos of... me? I will take more soon, but these early run ones were fun.
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Meet Zagrea Afxbis.
Six generations ago, a young Tiefling named Urxikas Afxbis was playing dice in a loud bar and caught another player cheating. He called it out. There was a scuffle. The scuffle became a brawl. The brawl became a full-room catastrophe -- everyone involved, furniture flying, chaos wall to wall.
Everyone except the Green Hag sitting alone in the far corner.
Urxikas got thrown across the room and landed near her. Scrambling up, he stepped on her pack. Something inside shattered. She screamed. The whole bar went quiet.
She walked up to him slowly. Got close. And in a voice barely above a whisper, she told him exactly what she thought of him and every red-blooded, tail-dragging devilspawn that would come after him. Then she blew a handful of sand in his eyes and walked out.
That was six Afxbisses ago. The curse has been passed down faithfully through every generation. Uncontrollable magic. Skin that changes color every time a spell fires -- bright green after poison, bright red after fire, eight colors counted so far, possibly more to come. The Afxbis line has learned, generation to generation, how to ride the magic, how to keep it from swallowing them whole. The skin, they never figured out.
Somehow, Zagrea is a happy guy. Charismatic, warm, a little prone to exaggeration when he's telling stories. He finds joy in most things. Most people like him immediately.
But spend enough time with him and you'll see it -- something behind the eyes. Something that doesn't quite rest. He keeps moving because standing still was never really an option. He wasn't welcome most places, growing up. So he kept walking, kept adventuring, and somewhere along the way started looking for something that resembles peace.
He hasn't found it yet. His powers are getting stronger by the day.
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Zagrea Afxbis is a tall Tiefling Sorcerer with almost no muscle to speak of, wearing colorful striped overalls and a cape long enough to wrap himself in -- both striped vertically in white, red, vermillion, orange, amber, yellow, chartreuse, green, teal, blue, violet, purple, magenta, and black. He attacks from range and relies on his arcane knowledge when his spells don't cooperate. He can will his bare hands to strike like a club, dagger, or handaxe, and can summon a vibrant shield of light from his own arms when pressed. He is a lifelong adventurer, a walking folk legend, and arguably the most colorful person in the room -- sometimes literally.
#iTA #isThisAnything #DnD #TTRPG #Homebrew #CharacterIntro #Sorcerer #Tiefling
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CW: Tomorrow, I'll play #LegoDnD with my friends. I will be a player not the DM this time. Here is my character, Rhazak Thornviel. He is a Tiefling Warlock.
Tomorrow, I'll play #LegoDnD with my friends.
I will be a player not the DM this time.Here is my character, Rhazak Thornviel.
He is a Tiefling Warlock.
And this is his backstory:
Rhazak was born of fire and shadow, the unwanted son of a mighty fiend and a mortal woman. His mother, knowing the dangers of his bloodline, tried to shield him from the abyssal forces that lurked just beyond the veil. For the first few years of his life, she was his entire world—his protector, his teacher, his only source of warmth.
But fate is cruel, and blood calls to blood.
Whether it was his own untamed power surging forth, an enemy of his father seeking revenge, or simply the world’s hatred for anything touched by the infernal, his mother was taken from him. At the age of six, he was alone in a world that wanted nothing to do with him. He spent the next ten years fighting to survive, living in the shadows of cities that feared his kind, stealing and lying his way through life.
Then his father found him.
Dragged from the mortal plane, Rhazak was brought to his father’s domain—a kingdom of searing heat, endless war, and fiendish politics. He was a prince now, raised to be something more than a street rat. He learned power, magic, and the art of manipulation. His father gave him everything: wealth, knowledge, and the favor of the abyss itself. But the court of fiends was no family—it was a nest of vipers, a battleground where betrayal was expected, and weakness meant death.
It was in this twisted world that he found the only true friend he had ever known.
Deep within the fortress, in a cage of obsidian chains, Rhazak discovered a tiny dragon—a wyrmling with scales of molten red and black, its eyes filled with fire and fury. The creature had been captured, meant to be a prize for some lesser demon. But Rhazak saw himself in its defiance, its refusal to bow. He freed it, and from that moment, they were inseparable.
He named it Ember.
For ten years, Rhazak and Ember grew together, surviving the treacherous courts and the blood-soaked battlefields of his father’s realm. But the endless cycles of war and deceit wore him down. The court, the politics, the endless backstabbing—it was suffocating. He had spent years fighting for a throne he did not want, for a kingdom that only knew cruelty.
So he fled.
Tearing through the planes with magic born of rebellion, Rhazak and Ember escaped back to the mortal world. Fifty years had passed in the human realm, but for him, it had been only a decade. The world had changed, but his fire had not dimmed.
At first, he wandered aimlessly, seeking battles for the sake of fighting, indulging in reckless abandon to forget the weight of his past. Then, by chance or fate, he met others—warriors, mages, outcasts like himself. Adventurers. People who fought not for power or conquest, but because they wanted to, because they chose to.
And for the first time in his life, Rhazak understood what it meant to have friends.
Together, they faced monsters, unearthed ancient ruins, toppled tyrants, and barely escaped with their lives more times than he could count. They fought beside him not because they feared him, but because they trusted him. It was intoxicating. It was fun.
Now, he walks the lands as an adventurer, his father’s magic burning in his veins, a dragon at his side, and a restless hunger for something more.
But this time, he is not running away.
For the first time, he has seen a world beyond his father’s domain—a world filled with mortals who struggle, suffer, and strive for something greater. And as much as he fights against it, he cannot deny what burns deep inside him: a passion for his people, for those who live in the shadow of his father’s rule.
One day, his father will retire, or he will fall, as all rulers do. And when that day comes, Rhazak will return—not to destroy, but to rule. To shape his kingdom into something more than an endless war machine, to lead with fire but also wisdom, to build rather than simply conquer.
For now, he fights not just for himself, but to understand what kind of ruler he must become.
He is still Rhazak, the restless prince, the runaway warlock. But one day, he will return home. And when he does, hell itself will tremble.
