In 2010, I created a D&D character known as E’kai Komataree, a 4th Edition Dragonborn Paladin-then Warlord-then Hybrid Warlord/Paladin for a homebrew campaign.
What follows is E’kai’s personal journal which was originally started as a recap of the previous play session (we were only playing once a month), but then transitioned into a way for me to expand her character.

Our group of adventurers find a gate to another world and artifacts that bring forth memories of past lives…Destinies that have yet to be fulfilled.


What the HELLS were in those vials!?

USELESS. ALL OF THEM! USELESS!

The Human Cleric has become a HUMAN PALADIN (a supposed holy man – how will he resolve the antics of last night I wonder, between himself and the Wizard?), the Tiefling Wizard is now a TIEFLIN SORCERESS (even more useless then before!), the Warrior is an ELVEN RANGER (he’s stuck with the warpony and is *far* too happy about it. And he looks stupid riding it.) and the XXX Warlord is an ELADRIAN WIZARD! And the HAFLING ROGUE has grown boobs and he hasn’t stopped playing with himself all morning. Herself? Never mind, not important!
The old man is clearly going to die. Or have some serious explaining to do.

I guess that brings me to the changes I have clearly gone through. Where once my scales were a deep, rich golden colour of a sunrise on a clear day in the mountains of my homeland, they have lightened, bleaching from gold to a blindingly pale yellow, dazzling the eye in direct sunlight, a shimmering white. I know not what to think of this development – it looks like someone poured a bleaching agent over my while I slept. But drastic than this physical change is the change I feel, deep down inside my soul. I am not, nor ever was meant to be a Paladin. The fervor I once believed I felt for this path, this lifestyle was incorrect – how could I have been so misled? I feel free, my blood burns to feel the the thrill of the fight…how interesting this will be.

I will return to this reflection at a later time, the others are eager to take our leave of this place. Perhaps this group is more clearly meant for something more, and has what my honourable mother Elder calls, “a touch of destiny.”

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Of course the old man was no where to be seen, and though I inspected the tent most clearly for any signs of life, the Paladin was eager to be off, calling for my attention insistently while I made my investigations. I will return to the tent tonight, the old man and I WILL have a discussion. A very long one if I have anything to say about it.

For now, we travel towards a location marked on the map by the old man. We laid out our various maps this morning, comparing the information we’d gleaned from various sources. I certainly hope the Rogue proves to be better at getting information in the future, I was luckier than he last night. He still has not stopped touching his boobs either. Hers. Whatever.