Havros of Xaphath

Triton Storm sorcerer hailing from the deep citadel of Xaphath


Triton, LG 100 years.
Life cleric lv 1, storm sorcerer lv 5

40/40 HP

Str 15 (2)
Dex 8 (-1)
Con 14 (
Wis 17 (3)
Int 6 (-2)
Chr 20 (

Sorcery points 37/37

Charisma DC 16, modifier +8
Wisdom DC 14 modifier +6

Twinned spell
Quickened spell

Class features:
Tempestuous magic
Disciple of life

Speed 30ft, swim 30ft
Racial feats:
Amphibious – can breathe both air and water
Guardian of the depths – cold resistance and Deepwater aclimed
Emissary of the sea – can be understood by water breathing creatures.
Control air and water : Fog cloud, gust of wind, wall of water 1/long rest (1/1)

Personality trait: not particularly intelligent so relies on past experiences to avoid making new mistakes.
Ideal: Allies are the best defence against those who refuse to ally themselves to you.
Bond: to find protection from otherworldly monsters
Flaw: overly trusting so easily deceives but acts very aggressively when he is lied to or deceived.
Feats: Military rank

Languages: common, primordial

Proficiencies: simple weapons, insight, intimidation, all armours, shields, persuasion, athletics, cards, land vehicles,

Equipment: insignia of rank, trophy of victory: tip of a beak from a kraken which he fought whilst defending Xaphath, trident, arcane focus: gold tipped trident fork, explorers pack, 2 daggers, deck of cards, common clothes, full plate armour, shield( acts as divine focus), cape


To commence a tale such as this we must begin with one far more ancient, one of divine theft and the first moonlit dusk. From primordial lands it did first arise, from the withered tongues of begging men who beseeched the gods for rain out of fear their beloved may wither away to husks. With raspy voices they did croak of the envy which traced the sky with each passing eve and ravaged the earth each day. The Night lusted for Day’s light, that which washed valleys with honeyed hues and struck down those of heinous acts. He thirsted for a mere trickle of radiance just as a man does water and his yearning swelled until, beneath his own shadow, he pilfered but a fistful and fled with Day in anguished pursuit. On and on the hunt persisted, scorching and carving canyons deeper than any mortal dared stare down or light risked straying into. The rivals thought the scarred landscape beneath of little consequence; that is until the canyons sank beneath a ceaseless tempestuous sea which swamped the realm of mortals. Out of the endless gaping maw another world unleashed not only the floods but the monstrosities that lurked in the depths beneath them. Both kings and vermin alike were left to drown on their paltry thrones whilst hallowed church bells rang out in nihility. Few who lingered above with dry, empty lungs gazed into the waters yet those brave enough to forage for hope found only murky reflections and whispering demons beneath the waves.

However, every creature is prey to something and with prey follows predators. Where the light still tends to the seafloor, at the mouth of these great fissures, our forgotten custodians viligianty defend, deep within their long-submerged citadels. The Tritons know little of who they protect and even less of what from yet still they act as sentinels at the deepest apexes where worlds coincide. Blessed in remorseful lament by daylight for his transgression few chosen bloodlines surge with the power of the eternal storm and the curative potency of its salted waters. Archetypical save his ostensible ichor many believed Havros toted an age of emancipation and within him indeed resided a veritable storm of salvation. However, many too disputed such claims. They foretold that his transparent lack of intellect, a blunder riddled flaw, would culminate in his own crucial yet abhorrent downfall, a mistake from which he could not learn as he so often did. The final drops of this exalted Triton blood flowed through him though lay unawakened until his coming of age. Upon this day he descended into the chasm, ignorant as to whether the being beneath be malevolent or benevolent. To him a single word was muttered from amongst the disembodied darkness and with each utterance the final carillons of man rang out beckoning the oncoming wrath of he, the living tempest. This last trickle of hope within his veins burdened him with the desperate faith of others and was so charged to acquire the final hope, an aegis, a bulwark, protection from the otherworldly waters of the depths.

Havros of Xaphath

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