Skek, a Kobold Paladin — D&D 5e NPC portrait
#0010

Skek

"The Storm Penitent"

Female, she/her · Middle-Aged, 18 years

Ability Scores

STR
12
+1
DEX
14
+2
CON
14
+2
INT
10
+0
WIS
13
+1
CHA
18
+4

Combat

Armor Class
16
Scale mail + Shield (16)
Hit Points
50
Hit Dice: 6d8
Initiative
+2
Speed
30 ft.
Proficiency
+3
Passive Perception
11

Attacks

Warhammer (used reluctantly)+41d8+1 bludgeoning (or 1d10+1 two-handed)
Shield Bash (defensive only)+41d4+1 bludgeoning

Personality

Personality

Speaks in rapid, overlapping sentences when nervous (which is often), wringing her clawed hands. Makes direct, unblinking eye contact that's unsettling coming from reptilian eyes. Reflexively bows or cowers when someone raises their voice, then visibly forces herself upright. Compulsively checks that her shield is within reach.

Ideal

Transformation — "I was taught to worship destruction. Now I know that the greatest power is choosing not to inflict it, even when every fiber of your being screams otherwise."

Bond

The tarnished shield she carries was taken from a knight she helped murder in her cult days. She's spent six years trying to find his family to return it and apologize. She's terrified of what they'll do when she does.

Flaw

Her commitment to non-violence borders on suicidal. She will put herself between a raging monster and innocents even when she knows it will kill her, because she believes her death is less significant than breaking her oath. Some see this as nobility. It's actually survivor's guilt.

Backstory

Skek remembers the screams. Not the triumphant roars of her red dragon master, not the chants of her cult-kin as they painted the sacred glyphs in blood—no, she remembers the screams of the halfling child trapped in the burning granary, the ones that didn't stop even after the flames consumed everything. She was three feet tall, clutching a rusty spear, chanting prayers to a god of ash and dominion, and she was responsible. The cult called it "purification." Skek calls it the moment her soul cracked open.

She fled that night, the tarnished shield she'd scavenged from a fallen enemy clutched to her chest, its draconic sigil already half-scraped away by her frantic claws. For months, she wandered, a creature of instinct and shame, until a wandering cleric found her collapsed in a ditch during a thunderstorm. He didn't raise a weapon. He raised an umbrella. "You're soaked," he said, as if her past didn't matter. As if she could be more than a monster. He taught her that redemption isn't a destination—it's the choice you make when your nature screams one thing and your soul whispers another.

Now Skek walks the storm-paths, appearing when the sky breaks and chaos reigns. She interposes herself between violence and victim, her voice—high-pitched, reptilian, trembling—offering mercy to those who deserve none. Every mediation is a battle. Every peaceful resolution is a small, desperate victory against the part of her that still wants to bare her teeth and flee. The shield on her arm bears no symbol now, only scratches and dents—a canvas of every moment she chose differently. She is terrified, always. But she stands anyway.

Abilities & Actions

Emissary of Peace (1/short rest)

As a bonus action, Skek grants herself a +5 bonus to Charisma (Persuasion) checks for the next 10 minutes. During this time, her voice takes on an ethereal, calming quality that seems to cut through rage and fear. If she deals damage to any creature during this time, the effect immediately ends.

Rebuke the Violent (reaction)

When a creature within 30 feet of Skek that she can see deals damage with an attack, she can use her reaction to force that creature to make a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw. On a failure, the creature takes radiant damage equal to the damage it just dealt (maximum 4d8). On a success, it takes half damage. This manifests as the shield on her arm flaring with pale, sorrowful light that reflects the attacker's violence back as pain.

Aura of the Guardian

Skek and friendly creatures within 10 feet of her have resistance to damage from the first attack that hits them each round. When a creature protected by this aura takes damage, Skek takes psychic damage equal to half the damage prevented (rounded down) as she spiritually absorbs their suffering. This aura is suppressed if Skek is incapacitated.

Shelter from the Storm (3/day)

As an action, Skek raises her shield skyward and speaks a prayer in Draconic—the same language she once used for destruction, now repurposed for protection. She casts *calm emotions* (DC 15) without expending a spell slot. Additionally, if used during actual weather conditions (rain, storm, extreme wind), the weather within 30 feet of her noticeably lessens for the duration—rain becomes drizzle, wind becomes breeze.

Divine Smite

When Skek hits a creature with a melee weapon attack, she can expend one spell slot to deal an extra 2d8 radiant damage (3d8 against undead or fiends, +1d8 per spell level above 1st). She almost never uses this ability—doing so requires her to strike in violence, which causes her visible anguish. When she does, she whispers 'forgive me' to both victim and herself.

DM Notes

Skek's voice is high and reedy, with a slight hiss on sibilants. Sample dialogue: "Please—PLEASE—just put down the blade. I know you're angry, I see it, I *was* it, but this? This only makes more screams. More screams that never stop. Can we... can we just talk? Just talk?" Her signature gesture is pressing her small clawed hand flat against her shield, as if drawing strength from it. When intimidated, she instinctively drops into a submissive crouch (pack instinct), then violently forces herself upright, trembling. Persuasion that appeals to redemption or second chances gets advantage. Deception makes her deeply uncomfortable—she'll call out lies even when tactically unwise. Her deal-breaker: if someone deliberately harms a child in her presence, her oath wavers. She'll still interpose herself, but the light in her eyes goes dark and cold, and the party will see what she used to be. Skek works as a moral compass, a living reminder that people can change, and a heartbreaking complication—she'll protect villains from justified vengeance, creating impossible ethical dilemmas. She's most powerful in storms, drawn to them like moths to flame, as if she needs the chaos outside to match the chaos within.