This composition was created by Nick Spurrier of the band Lindby and podcast BomBARDed for the DND backstory for my Otter, Tokka.

Do not use or repost, please!

Tokka
River Otter
Warlock

The night air is still as the pair of adventurers sit beside a campfire for the evening, a cavern explored leaving them tired, but not without loot. A large, gilded rib, perhaps, was found deep within the darkness of the cave. The two discuss their thoughts about the rather strange item before they set off for bed.

The dark of the night illuminates as a tent is ripped apart by a barrage of magic missiles. The otter’s body is forcefully flung off the sleeping mat as he’s struck again and again. There’s no movement, not from him at least, as the sounds of the night start to fade from existence.

The otter’s partner, a tall jackal, stands over the wreckage of the tent, wand still sparking faintly as a shadow steps out from within the woods. A congratulations is exchanged with a wide smirk as the ruins are rummaged through, the large rib quickly located before the pair disappears off into the night together.

Tokka’s breathing is ragged as he lies battered on the detritus of the forest, vision almost completely failing as he teeters on the edge of consciousness. Minutes pass by as he does his best to hold on, then something catches his attention, a whisper perhaps? Surely no one was around right now.. But there it was again, a voice with surprising clarity in his state.

“You’re a fool,” The voice spits out, “Outsmarted by your ‘companion’ and left to die in the mud.” There’s a sneer in his voice, wicked enough to be heard even through the relatively monotone speech.

The battered body of the otter flinches from the assault of the unknown voice. ‘Who’s there?’ He thinks, far too weak to be able to speak out. ‘Please.. I need help. I’m so weak..’

There’s a harsh laugh before the voice breaks through once more. “’Help you’? You want me to ‘Help you?’” The voice seeps deeper into Tokka’s mind, as though the source has moved closer. “You stole something from me and now you’re begging for help?” The laugh cuts through once more.

A spray of blood plumes over the otter as he coughs, trying to clutch at his bruised body with trembling hands. ‘P-Please don’t let me die out here, die alone out here!’ Panic sets in as he feels ever weaker with each passing moment, fueled by the waning adrenaline. ‘I’ll do anything, just help me!’

“Anything,” The voice repeats to the otter, cold and.. amused? There’s a chill that grips at the otter’s body like a massive hand squeezing around him. “Including hunting down the other that stole my artefact and slaughtering them for their defilement?” The voice is so close now, almost as if they were face to face.

There’s a short pause from the otter, but his mind is quickly made up, not that he really had a choice. ‘Yes, even.. even hunting and slaying an old.. friend.’ The word feels dirty, sullied. ‘I need to be healed before I die, hurry, if you’re really going to help,’ Tokka pleads.

“Your friend has already killed you,” the voice responds, uncaring and bluntly. “You’re now a tool of our vengeance, my vengeance. I will not allow you to rest until they’re dead and I’ve been sated.” The cold grip tightens steadily, fingers digging in around the otter’s body. “Unfortunately, I’m stuck with the failure of the pair, but I will aid you, lend you a taste of the power I possess. Even for someone like you it should be enough.” The cold now radiates intensely, seeping through the flesh and into the bone.

‘I need to be healed, this isn’t helping, it’s so cold..’ Tokka whimpers to the voice, entire body shivering. Even after all of this time it doesn’t seem like he’s slipping any further from consciousness.

“Of course you do, fool.” It mutters out in that same uncaring voice. After the otter’s body has gone completely icy, chilled to the core, a searing pain flashes through his body all at once. Flesh slowly knits itself back together, bruises vanishing from the skin as bones reset into their rightful place. The pain doesn’t let up, even as the regeneration completes. “You’re still very, very weak, but no longer dead.”

Tokka takes several minutes, chest heaving as the pain overwhelms him, writhing through the agony before it eventually, painstakingly ebbs away. He struggles to sit up, vision blurring with a head rush as he stabilizes himself, hands pressed to his temples. As his hands withdraw, twin dark circles are visible on the back of hand, incomprehensible runes wrapping around them. “Wh, what are..” his hoarse voice trails off. “Thanks for the healing, if you can even call it that.” He looks around, unable to see anyone around him that would have assisted him.

“You’re alive, are you not?” The voice seethes out. For just an instant out of the darkness of the forest, a visage of a massive quadrupedal canine is seen, flesh decayed and rotting before it dissolves into the darkness as soon as it’s noticed. “Now, we hunt, and take back what is mine, mortal. We make them suffer, we butcher them and leave their bodies for others to witness as a reminder of my power. There is no more rest until my vengeance has been sated.”