Changeling Druid 5, Warshaper 2, Master of Many Forms 3
Abilities at generation: Str 10, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 15, Cha 15
Abilities at 10th level: (in natural form, which won’t be often) Str 14, Dex 10, Con 18, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 16
saves (will vary depending on form, but base values are): fort 12+, reflex 5+, will 9
89 hit points (8 +9d8 average + 4*10)
base attack bonus: 6
actual attack bonus will vary based on form chosen, but will typically involve some form of claw, bite, or slam attack.
feats: cosmopolitan (bluff) (forgotten realms campaign guide), alertness (phb), endurance (phb), natural spell (phb). (1,3,6,9)
It took a couple years of adventuring together to get to know the changeling Charybdis (ka-RIB-dis), though not because she never talked about herself. She has a hundred and one stories about her past. However, after a few months, you started to realize that many of them were contradictory. After a few more months you realized that all the stories corresponded to whatever form she was wearing that day and whatever name she called herself. As Thawna the dwarf, she tells bawdy jokes that have you rolling with laughter, while Myrandar tells stories about elven high-trees that can cure insomnia. You’ve learned that Raine the halfling is an excellent cook, although he prefers fiery spices. But you’d rather eat boot leather than sample any stew Charybdis cooks while wearing a dragonborn shape.
At first the lying put you off. But after more months traveling with the mercurial druid, you realized a deeper truth. Charybdis wasn’t lying, at least not knowingly. Every story the changeling told was as real to her as you were. It didn’t stop you wondering if any of the stories actually happened to her, or wondering why her mind seemed to have more pieces than a rookery. It was after over a year of fighting by Charybdis’s side that you pieced together her history by listening to the stories she told while in an animal form.
North of Sourin along the coast is a narrow mountain range. High above the snow line is a small sheltered green valley which, according to Charybdis, appears on no map. There, for thousands of years, her people, the Siohra, had kept and bred various strains of creatures they call ‘thunder lizards’. Sages call them behemoths or dinosaurs. To her people, the lizards were herd animals, draft beasts, and predators.
The Siohra had little contact with the outside world, but every summer Charybdis’s mother would journey down from the mountains to Sourin to barter for things their valley needed but could not produce. When Charybdis was six, her mother arranged for her to apprentice with merchant in Sourin for two years, so that Charybdis could learn the cityfolk’s ways. When her mother died years later, Charybdis became the Siohra’s annual ambassador.
One summer on her trip to Sourin, Charybdis heard the news of war, but she paid it no mind. There was always a war going on somewhere, and none of it had anything to do with the Siohra or their sheltered valley. When she made the long slow climb back up the slopes, she found the mountains shrouded in smoke. She reached the valley, only to find the crops burned, the beasts butchered, and her people slaughtered. The Tiefling skirmishers were looking for a good place in the mountains to establish a lookout post to watch Bolevum. When the tieflings found the valley, they considered themselves extraordinarily lucky to find a sheltered valley with a pre-built village for them to occupy.
Even in animal form, Charybdis doesn’t talk about that night. She only growls under her breath about ‘the officer that got away’.
When the red rage lifted from Charybdis’s eyes, she gathered as much easily portable wealth as she could find, and walked back to Sourin. There she spent it all to have one of the soldiers raised from the dead. She spent three days questioning him about himself, the army, and the one who gave the orders to have her people killed, General Crispin. Then she snapped his neck, put on his uniform, and assumed his face.
Charybdis has spent the years since then searching for Crispin. She has insinuated herself into military camps, castles, cities, and noble houses. Unfortunately, Crispin was rapidly promoted to a sensitive command position, and his whereabouts and movements are not freely published, or easy to discern. She joined your adventuring company years ago to pay the bills, and makes a fine companion whenever she wears a humanoid form. However, even though she can speak from any animal lips she wears, her personality at those times seems altered, darker, reminding you of the ancient poems about nature… red in tooth and claw.