William paused for a moment to contemplate the stunning ring he had just finished crafting. Its intricate design filled his thoughts, swirling around in his mind.
He rose gently from the large, opulent bed, his wings neatly folded and tucked against his back, acting as a cloak, while his tail was wrapped around his waist, serving as an impromptu belt.
"I should probably finish leveling up, I chose the War Caster feat but had yet to choose which class I want needs to level!"
He approached the floating mirror at the far end of the room and placed his hand upon its reflective surface which rippled like water in reaction to his touch, the waves eventually ceased, settling into a new image of his own body.
The mirror's reflection began to show his character sheet, and he was shocked to see all the changes.
[CHARACTER SHEET — WILLIAM]
Race: Half-Drow - Half-Elf / Half-Devil (???)
Class: Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 4 / Oath of Vengeance Paladin 1 / Artificer 1
Level: 6
Alignment: Neutral
Background: Sage
[STATS]
Attribute – Value – Modifier
Strength – 9 (-1)
Dexterity – 17 (+3)
Constitution – 15 (+2)
Intelligence – 13 (+1)
Wisdom – 11 (+0)
Charisma – 19 (+4)
[INFERNAL BLOODLINE — AWAKENING STAGE I]
Status: Active (Partial)
Bloodline Origin: ???
Devil-Touched Physiology
• Minor resistance to Cold
• Minor resistance to Lightning
• Minor resistance to Acid
• Minor resistance to Poison
• Minor resistance to Necrotic
• Major resistance to Fire
• Medium resistance to Psychic
[RACIAL TRAITS]
Fey Ancestry
Darkvision (improved to Devils sight)
Drow Heritage — Dancing Lights, Faerie Fire
Telepathic Speech
Infernal Manifestation (Trigger State - able to turn into devil form at will)
[SPELL LIST — LEVEL 4]
Cantrips
• Dancing Lights
• Mage Hand +
• Minor Illusion
• Fire Bolt +
• Prestidigitation
• Minor Telekinesis
• Minor Darkness (similar to the Darkness spell but reduced in scope by half)
Level 1 Spells
• Arms of Hadar (Aberrant)
• Dissonant Whispers (Aberrant)
• Shield
• Hellish Rebuke
• Detect Magic
• Fire Beam
Level 2 Spells
• Misty Step
• Darkness +
• Hold Person
• Scorching Ray
• Cloak of Shadows
Level 3 Spells
• Haste
• Counterspell
• Fireball
• Hypnotic Pattern
• Fly (Since you can already fly this spell is merely supplementary)
Spell Slots
• 4 Level 1 Slots
• 3 Level 2 Slots
• 2 Level 3 slots
[PROFICIENCIES]
Saving Throws: Constitution, Charisma
Skills: Arcana, History, Insight, Deception, Perception, Stealth
Armor Proficiencies
• Light Armor
• Medium Armor
• Shields
Weapon Proficiencies
• Simple Weapons
• Martial Weapons
Favored Weapons
• Rapier
• Longsword
• Shortsword
• Whip
• Light Crossbow
William nodded his head in confirmation, his hand finally pulling away from the surface of the mirror.
He had not anticipated that the Artificer class would unlock in this way, but it must have happened either when he poured energy into Lenores wand or when he crafted the silver and gold ring, which itself hummed with a distinct magical power.
"I need to test this, perhaps I can create something akin to a living suit of armor at some point." He was imagining a suit that would automatically adjust to accommodate his wings and tail.
He stepped towards the window and pushed it open, the outside air refreshing to his senses as he leaped from the window sill with a single kick of his foot.
FWOOSH!
His wings extended to their full capacity, causing a noticeable disturbance in the air as he prepared to descend towards the ground. He then expertly utilized his wings to generate lift and slow his descent, bringing it to a speed that was less likely to cause serious harm.
THUD... THUD...
His feet landed with an audible groan of the dirt beneath him.
William walked as far as he could from the fortress at the center of his inner world until he could see the edge.
He found himself standing with his feet precariously perched on the very edge of a seemingly sheer cliff face.
As his gaze was fixed directly behind him, he began to notice a series of large boulders starting to break away from the earth beneath his feet.
The sound of the breaking rock was deafening, echoing through the otherwise silent surrounding landscape.
The boulders, which had previously been scattered, then began to slowly coalesce, forming thick slabs of stone that were dark in color and surprisingly hard to the touch.
He then directed his will, and the slabs started to stack up against each other, gradually
forming the basic, rough shape of a forge.
The forge finished taking shape under his direction.
Large slabs of dark stone locked together into thick walls and a heavy chimney.
The hearth sat low and wide, built to contain high heat without cracking.
He reinforced the base with denser stone drawn from deeper layers of his inner world, compressing it until it was nearly as hard as iron.
The structure was functional.
Severe.
Purpose-built.
Floating trees drifted closer, drawn toward the heat radiating from the newly formed forge.
Their roots dangled uselessly in the air as they rotated slowly in the open space around him.
William extended his hand.
The nearest tree snapped apart under telekinetic force.
Two more followed.
He gathered the broken timber into a tight cluster and ignited it with a controlled burst of red-orange flame from his palm.
The fire caught instantly.
He did not allow it to burn to ash.
Instead, he reduced the airflow and contained the combustion, forcing the wood to carbonize rather than fully consume.
The outer layers blackened and cracked.
The inner structure hardened into charcoal.
When the process was complete, he guided the charcoal downward.
A measured portion slid into the hearth.
The rest he stacked into three organized piles nearby.
Each rose to his chest, dense and dry, ready for sustained use.
He raised his hand again.
A concentrated bolt of infernal flame formed in his palm, hotter and more focused than natural fire. He threw it into the charcoal bed.
The hearth erupted.
The coals ignited in seconds, producing a deep red core with bright orange edges.
Heat radiated outward in visible distortion.
Smoke rose thickly through the chimney he had formed.
"I bled quite a lot when I tried doing this with pure magic," he said quietly. "Perhaps a more physical approach will be more appropriate."
The heat washed over his cambion form without discomfort.
His infernal physiology handled it easily.
His wings shifted slightly as rising currents brushed beneath them.
He turned toward the ground and pulled.
Metal-rich stone tore free from deep within the crust of his inner world.
Several large chunks floated toward him, suspended in controlled telekinesis.
He placed the first piece into the forge.
Unlike when he forced heat through stone with raw magic, the sustained flame of the forge penetrated gradually.
The outer layer darkened. Fine cracks formed.
A dull red glow appeared along thin mineral veins.
He increased the heat by feeding additional charcoal into the hearth.
The glow intensified.
Red became orange.
Orange shifted toward white.
The stone split along its natural lines, exposing bright molten metal within.
William focused carefully and extracted the liquefied metal with steady telekinetic force.
It pulled free in a thick stream, separating cleanly from the brittle shell.
The remaining stone, now emptied of metal, dropped to the ground and shattered.
Before him hovered a sphere of white-hot liquid metal, rotating slowly under his control.
With his free hand, he summoned a slab of metal-free stone and set it before the forge.
He applied controlled pressure, compressing and shaping it into a mold.
Finger cavities formed first.
Then reinforced knuckle ridges.
A widened wrist channel to accommodate his cambion anatomy.
He checked the proportions before proceeding.
Satisfied, he guided the molten metal forward and poured it into the mold.
The moment it made contact, moisture trapped within the stone evaporated with a sharp hiss.
Steam burst from the seams, but the structure held. He reinforced it briefly with telekinetic pressure to prevent cracking.
The mold filled completely.
He allowed the metal to settle and cool gradually rather than rushing the process.
The bright white glow softened to yellow, then to orange.
When the outer layer stabilized, he reduced the forge's intensity and waited.
William kept his focus steady as the gauntlet continued to cool inside the stone mold.
He applied slow, even telekinetic pressure along the outer plates, compressing weak points while preserving the interior spacing.
The finger channels were adjusted first.
He widened them slightly, then carved subtle recesses along the tips to ensure his claws could extend without resistance.
He flexed his right hand in the air, claws sliding out with a faint metallic scrape as they lengthened.
Satisfied with the measurement, he deepened the grooves inside the gauntlet's fingers just enough to prevent friction during movement.
Next came the palm.
He reinforced the inner core, thickening the metal beneath where his infernal energy would likely concentrate.
He made sure the wrist opening was not rigidly circular but slightly flared, allowing his cambion form to slide in and out without catching on bone or wing shift.
Only when he was certain the structure would not constrict him did he split the remainder of the stone mold apart.
Fragments fell away.
The gauntlet remained upright where it hovered, still glowing faintly orange.
He waited.
The brightness dimmed slowly.
Orange to dull red.
Dull red to a heavy iron hue.
Heat still radiated from it, but the surface no longer shimmered.
It would hold shape now.
William lowered his telekinetic grip and stepped forward.
Without hesitation, he drove his hand into the still-hot gauntlet.
There was a sharp hiss as residual heat met infernal flesh.
The metal pressed against his palm and fingers, settling into place.
His claws extended fully, sliding through the reinforced channels without obstruction.
It fit.
Perfectly.
He clenched his fist.
The plates shifted smoothly over one another, the knuckles locking with a satisfying solidity. No warping.
No cracking.
No resistance.
He lifted the gauntlet toward the darkened sky of his inner world.
He had not yet carved runes into it.
He had not poured magic into it.
It was only metal.
But it was metal shaped by his will.
Forged by his fire.
Designed for his form.
A slow grin spread across his face, sharp and unrestrained.
Not refined.
Not polite.
Maniacal.
The expression cut across his devilishly handsome features as he flexed the armored hand again, admiring the weight of it, the promise of it.
This was only the beginning.
William did not stop with the gauntlet.
After ensuring the fit was satisfactory, he returned to his forge, and from another heated stone he drew a further quantity of metal.
This time the process moved faster.
He had already learned the heat curve.
Already refined the mold shaping.
He formed a series of segmented plates, which were designed to overlap each other across his forearm.
Before each piece was fully allowed to cool, it underwent a thorough measurement against his own arm.
This was done to guarantee that it would provide unrestricted movement at the wrist and would also ensure there was adequate space along the inner seam where his infernal energy was destined to flow in the future.
He avoided a single solid bracer.
Instead, he crafted articulated bands.
One locked just above the wrist.
Another overlapped it slightly.
The third section of the forearm guard comprised the majority of its length and was reinforced specifically along the outer ridge, where impacts would most likely occur.
He left the inner arm thinner for flexibility.
Upon assembly, the pieces clicked together with a crisp, metallic sound, seamlessly guided into place by the small, interlocking grooves he had meticulously carved along their edges.
No straps.
No buckles.
The metal held itself in alignment through precision.
He flexed.
The plates shifted smoothly.
He rotated his arm, testing range.
Twisting at the wrist.
Extending his claws.
The armor did not bind.
He subtly adjusted one segment of the object using telekinetic pressure, meticulously refining the curve until it perfectly aligned with the underlying muscle beneath.
Only then did he step back and admire it.
The design was sharp, almost angular, with faint recessed channels running along the surface where runes would eventually rest.
The metal still bore a dark iron hue from tempering, though faint traces of heat shimmered across its edges.
He lifted his armored arm and struck a pose, turning his wrist to observe how light caught along the ridges.
Then another pose.
More dramatic this time.
Behind him, the fortress doors opened.
Karlach stepped out, rubbing sleep from one eye.
The smell of charcoal and heated metal had reached her before the noise fully did.
She paused when she saw him.
He stood near the cliff's edge, partially armored, holding his arm up at an angle as if presenting it to an invisible audience.
She blinked once.
Then grinned.
She walked toward him, boots crunching against loose stone.
"What ya doing?" she asked, her voice cutting cleanly through the quiet.
William froze mid-pose.
For a moment, he remained exactly as he was, forearm angled dramatically toward the sky.
Then he lowered it slightly and turned toward her.
His smile did not fade.
"Oh me? Nothing much. Just experimenting."
He lifted the armored arm again and rotated it, flexing his fingers so the plates shifted with a precise metallic sound.
With his unarmored hand, he gestured toward it casually.
"Thought I'd see how far I could take the physical approach."
He extended his claws from within the gauntlet, letting them slide forward through the reinforced grooves without catching.
The metal accommodated the motion cleanly.
Karlach's brows lifted.
"Well I'll be damned," she said, stepping closer. "You build that?"
William's grin widened slightly.
[DING]
[You have created a partial set of armor, please name it at your discretion!]