Granny Toadstool
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Jump to navigationJump to searchGranny Toadstool (Gladys Oakenhelm)
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| Race: Hill Dwarf, Class: Druid (Circle of Spores) Background: Hermit, Alignment: Neutral Patron Deity: Mother Earth Factions: |
Ability Scores
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| Strength 9 (-1) , Dexterity 12 (+1) , Constitution 16 (+3) ; Intelligence 10 (+0) , Wisdom 16 (+3) , Charisma 12 (+1) |
Proficiencies
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| Bonus: +2 Saving Throws: Intelligence, Charisma Skills: Medicine (Wis), Nature (Int), Perception (Wis), Religion (Int) Tools: Brewer's Supplies, Herbalist Kit Languages: Common, Dwarfish, Undercommon, Druidic Armor: Light armor, medium armor, shields (no metal) Weapons: Battleaxe, handaxe, throwing hammer, warhammer, club, dagger, dart, javelin, mace, quarterstaff, scimitar, sickle, sling, spear |
Traits
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| Darkvision 60'(Dwarf), Dwarven Resilience (Dwarf), Stonecunning (Dwarf), Dwarven Toughness (Dwarf), Natural Recovery (Druid), Wild Shape (Druid), Hail of Spores (Druid), Symbiotic Entity (Druid) |
Feats
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| Polearm Master |
Combat
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| Attacks: Mushroom Staff: +5 to hit, 1d6+3+ConSave DC 15 or 3d6dam / Polearm Master attack: +5 to hit, 1d4+3dam Armor Class: 15 (Studded Leather+Shield), Initiative: +1, Speed: 25 Hit Points: 36, Hit Dice: 3d8 |
Social
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| Personality Traits: If I were a poetic girl I’d say that I am as a dandelion on the wind, free to bob and breezily meander wherever life takes me. But I’ve never been that poetic, and I ain’t been a girl in centuries. I can be as sweet as I can be cantankerous, and as practical as I can be stubborn. I try to keep my calm and be the voice of reason, but dwarven blood runs deep in these old stringy veins. Hurt me and mine and you’ll get a walloping, as sure as sin! The most kindness ever shown to me is from my Circle, and the most peace I’ve ever felt has been in my wife’s arms (may she rest in peace) amid the glorious mushroom forest that is at the heart of my Belief. Ideals: I know you might think I’m soft in the brain, but I’m a mushroom person. Now hold on, I didn’t mean that literally you silly child! My Circle taught me that death, as uncomfortable as it is, is as much a part of life as life itself. Can’t have one without the other now can you? Death is the valley of the Great Wheel, the peace of letting go and coming, inevitably, to rest. But the Wheel is a circle after all. From Death comes birth, rebirth, the billion tiny, grasping mycelium of Nature feeding voraciously on What Was Before. Fungi hold hands with death, and with nature, and without their patient, turgid bloom we would not be here. So laugh if you will, call me the crazy Granny, but I’ll still be cackling when you’re six feet under, feeding my babies! Regardless of our lofty mortal goals and machinations, it is Nature that is most important. It is a pure thing, and must be protected. Bonds: My Circle is no more, but it lives on in me. Nothing is ever truly dead, and transformation is not only inevitable but necessary. My Circle protected an artifact that, in the wrong hands, could tip the balance of nature itself. That artifact has been stolen, but I must do all that is within me to get it back and keep it safe. To do anything less would be to let down the only people that ever meant the world to me. Flaws: Oh my, you see orcs in the distance? Well! Let me tell you about this one time when me and Ila were trekking through the woods, minding our own business when…Oh! They’re shooting arrows at us! How rude! So yes yes, I got a story for everything. When you’ve lived as long as me, nothing’s really a surprise anymore now is it? You can get me off on a tangent on any old thing, trust me. Like this one time I got sweet talked into joining a ring of temple prostitutes… |
Mushrooms were the roses in the garden of that unseen world, because the real mushroom plant was underground. The parts you could see - what most people called a mushroom - was just a brief apparition. A cloud flower.
-Margaret Atwood
In this quiet, peaceful time of twilight there is, in this great circle of life, an awful lot of hunting and fishing and catching and killing and dying and eating going on all around me. As the old fisherman said, 'That's the way with life. Sometimes you eat well; sometimes you are well-eaten.
-Paul G. Quinnett
