I think it’s a good day to tell the story of my D&D character who almost acquired her own cult
Her name was Cat; she was my first ever character, so I went super basic for her backstory. Nobly born 18-year-old girl who’d run away from home at 16 rather than be shackled to a life of marriage and feminine tediousness She ran off and had various adventures, befriending a tiefling wizard who honestly just wanted to be left alone with her library, and eventually becoming the setting’s first axe mage because she thought axes were 1000% cooler than swords. Eventually, events conspired to make her meet up with the rest of her party, and they had a grand old time deposing evil rulers and fighting a frankly inordinate number of dragons. Cat faithfully chronicled it all in her journal at the behest of her tiefling companion, who probably just wanted her to sit still for, like, fifteen consecutive minutes once in a while.
Almost as an afterthought during a rest, the DM mentioned that said journal had gone missing. (Never trust the DM just casually saying something like that. Plot Is About To Happen.) A few sessions later, after an attempt to drive a train had gone horribly wrong thanks to a few botched rolls, we all fell unconscious in the crash. Cat woke up in a lavish bedchamber dressed in a white frilly nightie; all that was missing was the flittering birds and talking mice. The rest of the party woke up in a dungeon. Turns out the leader of some cult or other had found her diary, decided she was a prophet, and wanted to marry her. As Cat was mentally cataloging all the ways she knew to murder this guy using only the ribbons on her nightgown, he knelt and offered her this fucking gorgeous black obsidian battleaxe as a wedding gift.
Well. That certainly changed things a bit. Marriage…but also axes? And what’s he saying about leading a cult army?
Cat decided on the fly that actually maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad if it involved fancy axes and armies at her beck and call, and absolutely zero needlepoint or garden parties. And hey, if he gets annoying, he looks squishy–she can always just bump him off and make it look like an accident. This could actually be not terrible. So, she accepts his offer.
Which is something the DM absolutely was not expecting.
In the end, they just were fundamentally incompatible–something about the guy wanting to murder her travelling companions and make spectral guards to protect her forevermore–and it didn’t work out. But oh, what could have been…
But did she get the axe?
Oh she absolutely did, there was no getting it away from her. She lopped the cult leader’s head off with that beautiful blade. Eventually the DM made it a battle-crazed weapon that gained power when offered my character’s blood, making it the most memorable and meaningful weapon a character of mine has had to date. And that’s where my URL comes from!
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