Find me a home for my hexblades!

[Psion]

Okay, the one base class from The Complete Warrior I could cotton is the Hexblade. The problem at the time was there was no place for such a base class in my game. None. I could not justify to myself why these people would exist as 1st level characters. I could see it as a prestige class, or if some unit of society existed that trained them from their youth (like I assume Holy Warriors and Monks), but those entitities were quite a bit more ordered than the Hexblades are.

So now I am running my River of Worlds game and I have dozens of worlds at my doorstep. There is plenty of room to put the sort of social structure in place that might support such beings. And I thought it would be cool to run into some planes-wandering swordsmen.

But what would that be? Any ideas for what kind of society might exist that would create such beings? Bonus points if you can attach it to one of the worlds or planes in Beyond Countless Doorways or Book of the Planes.

(I am picturing a Gypsy-like nomadic culture and playing up the "hex/curse" legends attributed to Gypsy fortunetellers and one conceptual hanging point for the concept, but somehow, I need something more.)

 

[Ashanderai]

I don't have Beyond Countless Doorways or Book of the Planes, but I will try to help.

Tie them not just to a culture, but to a religion; or even better a philosophy. For example, taoism has a certain mythos associated with swordsman. Perhaps you could associate the hexblades to a philosophy that is prevailant within your gypsy culture. You just have to come up with some details for the philosophy. Perhaps the culture is searching for a fabled homeland and long ago a wise warrior who fought against many magical opponents and beasts on the behalf of his culture developed the beginnings of the hexblade tradition. He could have done this by looking for methods to outmaneuver and hinder magical opponents while fighting them with traditional weapons. Calling upon his heritage regarding fortune telling and curses he developed a way to cast curses in the midst of combat while finding a way of training himself to bypass magical effects. Before he mysteriously disappeared he wrote down what he had learned and the two disciples that had learned with him (children of his perhaps...) as he developed his style continued to train and develop the hexblade fighting style and take on students of their own.

Eventually, after generations of students learning the style as it faded in and out of style with warriors and defenders of the culture the style gained a defined philosophy that may or may not have been in keeping with the founders exact ideals. Then, a great hero could have popularized the style enough so that members of other races developed an interest in the hexblade style and convinced members of the original culture to teach it to them, thus spreading the hexblade philosophy of fighting throughout much of your campaign setting.

EDIT: The two disciples might even have developed slightly different branches of the teachings of this original hexblade, justifying the creation and use of a couple different PrCs (based on the hexblade class abilities) for the setting that you might create yourself or use from another source.

 

[JustKim]

Perhaps they come from a plane where emotions and words hold power, where if you truly want someone to die they just might. Warriors would learn to use these curses to supplement their martial prowess, and though they wouldn't work as well on other planes the curses would still be a tangible power. I wish I could be more helpful, but I don't have either of the planar books you mentioned.

 

[Psion]

emotion manifesting planes and ancient orders... hmmm. somehing I can work with.

The psuedo-[taoist/gypsy] thing sounds fun in a "you got your chocolote in my peanut butter" sort of way.

 

[Nightfall]

Mmm home for hexblade eh?

Well how about the original denziens/tieflings of Palpatur, in an effort to distance themselves from their demonic brethern developed the art of cursing, using the Dark Chant at first but finding ways of incorporating both it and Heavenly Chorus into a kind of "chant" that acted as a potent form of cursing.

Howse that?

 

[green slime]

Shoot! A post entered and the board does a wonky!

IMC:
The Roman-inspired Empire is opposed in the west by the Pale Necromancer (aka The Silent One, He of the Bone), who is regarded as Prophet and the Will of god on Earth by his faithful. There is no god but god. God willing, X will be done. Pagans are put to the sword, and in their death, they may finally serve god's will as undead. This monotheistic religion is aggresive and demands absolute obediance from the faithful. The large majority of his troops are Undead, of course, guided by the steady hand of the Priests of the faith. By their side are the regular army (fighters) and their "Paladin-equivalent" Hexblades. Within this culture, these Hexblades fulfil the same role as paladins do: combat pagans and heretics. Their spell lists are increased to include more Necromantic spells.

 

[Elder-Basilisk]

I think Hexblades would make a very good honor guard for a nation of necromancer-kings.

"They are trained in the ways of the necromancers but in such a way that they never rival their masters."

 

[DungeonmasterCal]

"They are trained in the ways of the necromancers but in such a way that they never rival their masters."

I don't own the Complete Warrior, but have thumbed through it at the store. To me, they seem like an arcane companion to the XPsiHB's psychic warrior. It's not a stretch to believe that somewhere there are enclaves of fighters dedicated to mastering both spell and blade from the outset, rather than transition into such a niche via PrC.

 

[Rodrigo Istalindir]

How about:

For as long as anyone could remember, certain children, born on on All Hallow's Eve, carried a certain birthmark. Over time, people noticed strange things happened around these children. A young boy would become upset at being told to go to bed, and his father would experience a sudden nosebleed. Another would throw a temper tantrum at the breakfast table, and the milk in the pitcher on the table would sour instantly. Suspicion grew and became superstition, and some parents, fearing the mark, would smother the newborns in their swaddling clothes. Those that survived the day of their birth were often shunned, and thier parents as well.

Sometimes, a mother would hide the baby's mark, keeping it a secret from all around. Sooner or later, though, the secret would be revealed. The unfortunate child would be blamed for any ill that had befallen the village, and many times the poor soul would be stoned or drowned less they bring any more misfortune.

Years passed, until one day a new King came to sit on the throne. He was an enlightened ruler, trained in the East, and appalled at the ways of his superstitious subjects. He issued a decree, promising swift justice to any who would lay a hand against one of the marked. The peasants grumbled, but a few hangings convinced them that the new king was serious in his intentions.

So the people began to follow the letter of the law. No longer did they stone or drown these children. Instead, when one was born, soon as its cord was cut, it was taken from the mother and left alone in the woods. Let the king hang the wolves, or punish the bitter cold, for so long as no one directly harmed the child, they were safe. Days after a mother supposedly delivered a stillborn child, a hunter or woodsman might stumble upon some tiny remains in the forest, but no one could ever say for certain what had happened, even if they were so inclined.

Until one day. A new mother, grief-stricken at what she had done to her child, staggered from the birthing room and tried to follow the village elder as he took the baby into the woods. In the dark, she lost sight of him. She wandered for minutes, trying to pick up his trail. She was about to give up hope when she hear him approaching. Hiding, she waited until he passed, than took off in the direction from whence he came.

She moved deeper into the woods, and ahead saw the moonlit clearing in which her baby lay. A shadow seemed to move on the other side, and she flinched, then laughed nervously, thinking it the odd play of moonlight over barren branches. But then she saw another, and another, as shadowy figures detached themselves from the woods and approached the tiny bundle.

One of the figure reached out, taking up the baby in its ephemeral arms. It held the child up to the full moon for a moment, and then it turned and disappeared into the woods.

*****

Although only 16, Davin considered himself an experienced adventurer, having been on his own for over a year. He had awakened one morning to find his foster parents dead. There was no sign of violence, no sign of anything at all amiss save that their hair had turned white overnight. Fearing that whatever had killed them would return for him, he bundled up his few posessions and fled. He felt little sadness over their deaths, for although they were the only parents he had ever known, they had always seemed distant. He gave no thought to the fight he had them the night before.

David absent-mindedly rubbed the large scar on his upper arm, a scar he had had as long as he could remember, and entered the inn in search of adventure.

 

[Aaron L]

How about a race of warriors that has all but died out from a horrible curse inflicted on them by a dark god, until the last of them learned to live with the curse, and use it to their benefit?