Create Your Own: D&D Characters

As voted on by you guys, our beefcake patrons, here are your new heroes- Braugh Mountain-Hewer, a beefy bugbear barbarian, and Rhydian Fflur, a blubbery bird bard. Enjoy!

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If you were looking for a mercenary, you could not do much better than Braugh Mountain-Hewer. He is easy enough to find; if he's not in the taproom of the Red Dragon, then he will be in the Fighting Pits, taking on whoever dares step up to test his strength— and that is something he has in spades.

A bugbear of massive size and strength, Braugh had trained with some of the fiercest berserkers on the Sword Coast, a powerful north wind that blew down from the Icewind Dale, and was looking now to carve his name in the history books. He had trained and fought, and he had grown— oh, how he had grown. No one was sure how a bugbear had become so massively muscular, but rumors abounded; had he made a pact with some sort of god or other power? A belt of giant's strength? Potent potions? No one could say— whatever it was, the results were well worth it, for Braugh regularly boasted he would take on gods of war if they dared to try him.

Braugh loved showing off his strength and mammoth physique for his awe-struck audience— he filled half the fighting pits, with enormous, burly muscles filling out every part of his body. His arms were girded with hefty, pumped biceps that swelled up as large as shields, triceps that were thick as anvils. His sprawling shoulders bristled like lines of warriors in formation, while his immense canyon of a chest surged out like an advancing army. The geographic landmass of his back unfurled like a battle banner catching the wind, while his earth-shaking legs were packed with dense, pillar-like muscle. 

With an axe as solid as his monumental body, he could hack through the hardest stone, or wrestle giants and even dragons into submission. And yet, he charges little for his services, for Braugh loved to chase adventures and challenge above all else— stroke his ego well enough and fawn over his mighty musculature, and he may just offer other services, as well.

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The Red Dragon tavern had hired many entertainers over the years, but none could quite match the bard, Rhydian Fflur. No one was quite sure where Rhydian had come from; some heard him say he hailed from the rich forests of Tethir, others heard tell he was a bastard son of a Masked Lord of Waterdeep, and others still heard him claim he was the rightful king of a far-off realm, but wherever he was really from, there was no mistaking the aarakocra. His silvery voice and the lilting notes of his lute may be the first things you hear, or it might be the grumbling of his oceanic gut or the squeals of creaking floor boards holding up his weight.

Most bards thought of themselves as attractive, and Rhydian was certainly no exception, regardless of the fact the aarakocra was enormously, fantastically fat. The bird man was hugely obese, and his belly alone could level some of the tavern's patrons flat; an enormous, feathery mass the size of a king-size bed that was dangerously close to dragging along the floor, giving Rhydian the look of a cloudy night sky, as his massive belly had plush grey feathers, and the rest of his plumage were a night-time blue, enchanted with swirling faerie lights to enhance his performance and prestige. His legs were thicker around than kegs, his thunder thighs contending with his belly weighing down and their own bulk knocking into each other, which shockingly did little to hinder Rhydian's dances, even while each step making his blubbery, bench-breaking rear bounce. His chest was like a pair of inviting, overstuffed pillows left resting atop the crest of his belly, and his arms were wrapped in thick reams of flab. The aarakocra's face, once sculpted and sharply featured, had become soft and round, with billowing cheeks and his beak dipping into multiple chins.

Yet all his profound, hefty weight did little to dent his towering confidence. His silken words and rubenesque figure still charmed patrons on a nightly basis, talking them into sharing their coin purse, their meals, and at times, their beds, as well— though Rhydian insisted he was far more comfortable than any tavern's mattress, and had yet to find someone who disagreed.