Gary Gygax often had a thing for strange juxtapositions.  Take the Owlbear, for example.  A cute, cuddly bear with the face of a freaking owl.  I mean...why?  Other than the fact that it easily captures the hearts of every adventurer I play with, even as its powerful claws rend the onlookers in twain, its rhyme and reason are nestled in the grand plans of its creator.  
  However, some beasties follow a logical evolution.  If elves, then what about dark elves?  If these "Drow" exist, what do they worship and why?  How can such worship be rewarded, or scorned?  This is more the case of the tragic Drider.
  In Faerun, the mystical canonical realm of Dungeons and Dragons's published materials and adventures, the Drider is a product of chaos and evil.  Tied directly to those scorned by Lolth, the Spider Queen, a Drider is the result of a Drow insulting or betraying the deity.  Driders are cursed reminders of the power of Lolth, and are equally feared and scorned by the Drow population.

A Drider is a terrible juxtaposition of a Drow warrior and a giant spider, where the upper half is a humanoid elf and the lower, well, is a freaking giant spider.  Powerful and dangerous, driders are accomplished fighters that make use of their versatile movement and superior size.  Walking on walls, trapping foes, and some even casting spells, a Drider is a deadly opponent against an unsuspecting party.
  By the book, these entities enjoy only the standard boons of their elven nature, but have a pretty decent AC (19 on most).  Innate Spellcasting is helpful, and with three attacks to spare, they can cut down a Player Character pretty quickly.  In packs of 2 or more, with a Drow strike team on the ground, a tactical group of Drider can overwhelm a party from the safety of the ceiling and the distance of their longbows.  Do not underestimate them; to do so might just be the TPK you're looking for.

Lolth may be vicious to her followers, but I find it strange to think that those that displease her would be twisted into a visage that most resembles her.  In fact, I'd think such an outcome to be quite the opposite.  Would not a vicious deity bless those that most please her with the great power inherent in her favorite creatures?  To grant them but a piece of the power she knows from beyond the veil, that they may better serve her fearsome wishes in the material plane.
  It is this driving belief that created the Thirteen Coins.  Thirteen prime specimens of great Drow stock, or perhaps a few of different make, that have completed the Sins of the Spider - a grueling test of wills, might, and devastating physical and mental tasks.  Seekers of the Coin perform these tasks in pursuit of greater power, following a grand vision of the goddess, who bestows upon them more and more innate abilities - all the while twisting them further toward her ideal.
  For every Seeker, the tasks are different, but each serve the greater scheme of the master.  If they complete the Seventh Sin, Lolth may bestow upon them one of her Coins; a piece of prime power, embedded in the body of her follower.  In this way, the Coin becomes an extension of the goddess, and another form of influence she can exude upon the world.
  Coins are resilient and devastating creatures, but they are not unkillable.  If ever they are bested in battle and killed, the Coin is left behind to tempt the victors with visions and power.  Destroying such an artifact is difficult and draining.  
  Such trouble to discard such a thing.  Besides, wouldn't you rather...keep it?

See you at the table, friends.
​-Adamus

Sometimes I'll have a character concept in mind and I will commence scouring the internet for something that fits said image, at least enough to be representative.  Then, while searching for such an image, I'll stumble across something else entirely, and it sends my mind aflutter with ideas, backstories, voice, and an in-depth concept.  It was in one of these particular moments that I stumbled across this particular image.

Alluring, I know.  But also completely badass.  And that's what got my mind running.  

See, at the time, the players were visiting the sister city to Stormwrack (where they've spent nearly a year of play time - about 3 weeks in game time), called Feathertongue.  Feathertongue is a high art, high class society.  Low crime, pleasant areas, knowledge and art celebrated.  It became a running joke in the city that platinum was like their gold here, and they weren't wrong.
​  So where does this woman fit in?  How does one get to such a point where you're that comfortable, and also extremely capable and dangerous.  I got to thinking what this person's story could be.

Slates are the rockstar duelists of Feathertongue.  There are hundreds of them, and new ones sprouting up all over the place.  Now, to become a Slate, you need to win three competitive duels, and these are won in the streets, THEN you need to be offered the Queen's Favor, which is a ticket into a seasonal tournament where you need to win 3 matches in a row.  THEN, you have become a Slate. 
  Slates swear an oath to the crown, specifically the Queen, and act as a powerful and skilled militia at her service.  And for this esteem, you earn a generous pension and receive some nice perks in the city.  Get high enough, and you are awarded your own estate.  And, everyone knows your name and your exploits.  These are the celebrities of the city, and if you ever break your vow, all that fame and fortune is stripped from you.  You live instead as a Bruthan; a Slate who failed to uphold their code - and they can never return.
  It's a big deal, and a high honor.  So, if someone abuses it...

Junaru Sumala was a decorated Slate.  Famed for mastering the "Art Of The Third Sword," Junaru was a charismatic favorite among the people.  He would frequent the bars and taverns of Caskmane, making a name for himself as a lucrative bachelor and a man of the night.
  But the secret no one knew was that while he galavanted the days away with his pension, he had a daughter at home.  Hair hidden and tied back, wearing rags and reading quietly each night, she stayed hidden from the world.  At market, it was assumed she was always someone else's child.  Big man Juna named her Sorro, but no one else knew this.  No one knew her, because she was his shame.
  So he drank his shame away each night, and met the harsh hangover each morning.  Meanwhile, she practiced.  Practiced with his discarded blades, forgotten armor; she pawned his rings and used spare change for food.  Whatever she took he forgot about.
  And then one night, he didn't come home.  And then it stretched into a week.  Then two.  Then it was the talk of Caskmane.  Junaru snapped, they said.  Drew blood on a unarmed boy, spewing belligerent epitaphs and shaming his name.  He tried to apologize, but Queen Ymir showed no mercy.  He was proclaimed a Bruthan on the spot, and now sits in Correnak Stockade.

With such a disgrace dragging her family name through the mud, and little hope of picking it back up, Sorro left it there.  She donned a new life, and a new visage; like her father before her, she would remake herself.  But not as a drunk, or a disgrace.  No, the armor she wears is more than a metaphor.   
  And knowing that so few had ever seen her timid face, knowing that no others could ever fathom who she really was, an opportunity grew inside her; a catch of wildfire on fallen leaves.  No longer would she hide in the tiny hovels of Caskmane, no longer shrouded by the din of alcohol and broken promises.  No, she take the poison fed to her father by his own hand and douse what little she had left.  And there, in the alley behind her four walls and a roof, she would light a single match, and set fire to her past.  
  The creature that emerged from that alley would not resemble her in the slightest.  Fitted in layered full-plate, ceremonial but functional, a shield slung over her back and a broadsword resting drawn upon her shoulders, the Knight saunters out from the catching flames.  After she's a few blocks away, she discards the helmet in a trough, smooth locks of black hair flowing free at last.  A slight hitch in her step as she feels the eyes upon her.  But her father taught her well.
  She relaxes her hips into a confident stride, the armor still clinking awkwardly, and rocks her head in the direction of a gasp.  She winks, blush spreading across the face of the lady in the crowd.  More people gather, whispers as she passes, then a man calls out from the crowd: "What's your name?"
  They think I'm a Slate already.  "You may call me Valorie.  Valorie Essex.  Now point me to the nearest duel!"  Always eager for a new hero, the crowd would embrace her.  

As the years went on and her bouts grew more lucrative, her armor would become better fitted, customized, lightweight, and strong.  Also, she would grow lonely.
  Earning a modest income as a smith and weapons trainer by day, Valorie would drift into steady brothel visits in the evenings.  An entity of the night herself, only in intimate company could she feel truly alive.  She is forceful, confident, and athletic - a companion many in the business vie for, and though she had favorites, nothing was truly the escape she needed.  It was around this time that a gentleman Slate found her.  
  On a fateful night, she found herself standing outside Duunspear, a bottle of amber liquid loosely gripped in one gauntleted hand.  It is full, and currently corked.  The methodical clip of finely made boots twitches her ears.
  "Miss Essex, I presume."  The voice is slow and weighted, but smooth like silk.  
"You presume correct.  Who's asking?"  She doesn't turn to look, instead letting her gaze drift upward to a pretty tiefling man perched on the upper railing of the building.
  "Someone who knows your father."
The bottle drops and her sword is drawn before it shatters.  She whirls to face the man, and is left between decisions.  The well-dressed gentleman in front of her wears a stylish set of pauldrons and gauntlets, effortlessly woven into a beautiful doublet and ascot.  A man of toned frame, his stance is both defensive and non-threatening.  He is motionless, hand rested on the iconic hilt of a sheathed sapphire rapier, lazy arcs of lightning shuddering into existence around it.  Only his half-cape billows in the wind from the surf.  Any idiot would recognize the greatest Slate the city would ever know, Lir Obidiah Skurr.  Legend has it he's saved the King and Queen of Feathertongue countless times, and is probably one of the very few that could be called their friend.
  "Come.  We don't have much time."
She sheathes her sword, and abandons her quest for companionship this time.  Instead, Obidiah leads her down to Correnak Stockade.  Moss clings to the walls, and the surf crashes angrily against the tower.  And here, no guards in sight, deep in its recesses, sits an unshaven, filthy man...gently singing to the dirty walls.
  At first he tried to hit on her, but when she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him a few times into the bars, his eyes clarified, a tiny sound escaping his parched lips.  A word, laced in wonder, and deep, deep shame.  "Sorro?"
  "My name is Valorie.  Valorie Essex.  I don't know you, and you don't know me.  ...Your name is Alejandro.  Alejandro Esuarve.  The greatest duelist this city will ever see.  Never forget this.  ...Or I will kill you where you stand."

Valorie became a player favorite quickly.  Nonchalant and no BS, she tells it like it is and won't wait around to let you know what she thinks of you, which makes sense.  On paper, she's more intimidating than persuasive, but definitely inherited her father's natural charisma.  Where she departs from him, though, is in her primal resolve.  As a sword and board fighter, she's strong as heck, and comes off more aggressive than most.  There's a lot of pent-up anger to sort out, so opportunities to throw down are always welcome.  But sometimes, if you can move past her fronts, you might actually catch a glimpse of that little bookworm still clinging to old dreams.

HP: 192 --- AC: 21
Levels: Fighter 14 --- Style: Protection
Feats?: Sentinel, Mage Slayer
Notable Equipment: Giant Slayer Broadsword, +1 Shield, Fitted Slate Armor (+1 Full Plate)
STR: 20, DEX: 14, CON: 20, INT: 12, WIS: 13, CHA: 15

Some of these stats, and now her backstory, might also explain how undeniably frustrated she was when a PC came on to her only to LITERALLY RUN AWAY.  Oh boy.  Sir Gavin, you will have a hard day in the future.

The archdevil looms above you, inspecting the burning blood that drips from his face.  The same boiling red drips from your blade as a grin curls across your lips...but its booming bass shakes you to your core as it speaks to the air around you.
  "Azolonia.  This mortal has requested his demise.  Kindly remove his head for me."
   A shockwave of dread spirals up your spine as tendrils of black smoke and scents of sulfur spur into your peripheral.  You whip around and stare into the red eyes of a statuesque form; alabaster skin and striking beauty, stylized black armor gleaming with the firelight surrounding you.  A pair of gigantic black wings stretch and flex behind her as she draws an exquisite, vicious blade from a scabbard, a grin curling across her lips.  Her voice is menacing silk.  "Of course, my lord."

The Erinyes is a powerful, disciplined devil warrior that serves the pit fiend masters of the Nine Hells.  They are dangerous, tactical, mobile, and vicious.  Masters of martial combat, each is skilled with bow and sword alike, and many use magical ropes of entanglement to ensnare powerful foes.
  Erinyes, despite their gladiatorial or knight-like visage, are often mistaken in use and sight for Succubi or Incubi.  And this could not be further from the truth.  Ignoring the fact that both would be at each other's throats, the Erinyes does not exude allure or seduction.  They are militant powerhouses among the devilish culture, and command immense respect and fear, more likely to kill or enslave with blade and chains than to charm you into defeat.  
  Only subservient to their chosen masters, an Erinyes swoops down from the skies on red and black wings to strike down those who dare threaten or insult the ideals of Asmodeus or the edicts of their masters.  When not beheading mortal fools, an Erinyes can patrol the fortress of their master, or otherwise move freely through the dissonant cities of Hell.  However, if need for their presence arises, their master only needs to speak their name and they are pulled to their aid immediately.
  So beware, small ignorant traveler.  Assume every Pit Fiend you pick a fight with has at least one Erinyes looming in the shadows behind you.

Though predominantly female in representation, an Erinyes can also be male.  No matter their gender, they are an imposing force of statuesque, athletic physique in stylized armor.  
  Their massive wings net them an impressive Fly speed of 60 feet and with a decent pool of hit points coupled with a base 18 Armor Class, these devils are hugely mobile and dangerous.  Their heroic array of stats are not to trifled with, either, sporting three 18's in Strength, Constitution, and Charisma, with no other stat going below a 14.  Higher than average Saving Throws, Immunity to Poison and Fire damage, as well as Resistance to Cold, and non-magical/non-silvered physical damage, plus TELEPATHY out to 120 FEET???  Yeesh.
  Three attacks in a round, with Parry options, extra poison damage on their "hellish" weapons, plus Magic Resistance (good luck, Wizards)...  These boys and girls are going to be quite a fight no matter the terrain.

In Ionian lore, an Erinyes is already a powerful entity, but there are some who aspire to even greater power.  An Erinyes, male or female, serves a devil master or a general oath to Asmodeus, but there is a grand order of Erinyes who command even more clout and respect among the greater and lesser devils.  These are called The Furies.  
A cohort of nine sister generals, each serving the Archduke or Archduchess of each layer of the Nine Hells.  These Erinyes have earned the title of Fury, and command legions of lesser and greater devils as grand warriors and tacticians in service of their masters.  The more they please this master, the more power and abilities the archdevil passes onto the Fury.  Meaning, the longer a Fury serves their master in good standing, the more power they may yet wield.
  This creates distinct opportunities to express a power difference between a standard Erinyes and a Fury.  Players may come in contact with a Fury flanked by three other Erinyes; her Seconds.  It is very clear that this one, adorned in stronger armor with unique weaponry, as well as vicious helm, is different than the others that surround her.  Maybe she has spell casting abilities, like war magic, or wields a legendary weapon, bestowed upon her by her Archduchess.  And though such a sight may fill the head of an adventurer with glittering prizes, such gifts can also grant higher proficiencies, saving throws, extra attacks, higher resistances.  Heightened skill earns expanded power.  
  Just know what you're getting into, grasshopper.

Welcome to Hell.
See you at the table.
​-Adamus

There are dark machinations that resonate and ripple across the ages of Io, and in this machina innocent people can find themselves crushed within the gears.  These undeserving souls might find dreadful purpose in this false resurrection, and revel in their unkillable nature.  However, every rebirth is a gift granted by an extra-planar entity, god, devil, or something else.  And, like so many elements of the Weave in Ionian lore, there is a cost to such gifts...
  The concept of an undead hero, neutral or not, exists in my world without a doubt.  Revenants are certainly not common, but they aren't unheard of.  Always seeking that greater depth of immersion and storytelling, those that do reveal themselves are never grunts or shambling corpses.  They are aware, and might have already taken steps to hide the fact that they may be slowly decomposing (herbs, liquor, formaldehyde).  Some have actively injected themselves with healing potions, syrupy elixirs of vitality, or taken to consuming infernal blood to cease the flow of rigor mortis.  And all are well aware of the passage of time - and how long remains before they turn to dust.  They may seek help from our heroes, allies to defeat their nemesis, or perhaps they've been down this road before, and have given in to their damnation.  
  My players have met two Revenants before, but I don't it was ever revealed to them (in secret or otherwise), and they will definitely show up again.  Can a player-character be a Revenant?  Anything's possible.  There's too much espionage and assassination in my world for an Archfey to not take advantage of a poor, unfortunate soul every now and then.  However, that is something that will be explored and revealed during play, not before.  No one goes in thinking they're going to become a zombie Clint Eastwood...

See you at the table.
-Adamus

Man.  I'm tired.  What I wouldn't due for some CAFFEINE.  ;)

Some baddies you find just hold a special place in your heart.  Maybe you often fall back on them because they're so versatile, or you save them for that key moment when they'll be most effective.  Could they be a striking nemesis, a freak chance encounter, or a surprising subversion of expectation?  
  I use a lot of monsters, and I make a lot of my own (that's another post altogether), but none so far have had such an "OH CRAP" moment from my players in recent games as the Remorhaz.

The Remorhaz is a traditionally arctic monstrosity.  A predator preying on elk, polar bears, and other creatures that wander into their territory.  They burrow deep into snow or ice, lying in wait for the faint vibrations of creatures moving above them.  While hidden, it can raise or lower its body temperature, keeping the snow or ice around it from melting, or allowing it to glide through the cold tunnel.
  A Remorhaz nest is quite a find, especially if you are a frost giant, as the young Remorhaz can be trained from hatching to obey commands and guard your citadels.  Some might even become mounts for other creatures.  Be careful if training these beasties, though; they are adept at swallowing their victims...

The Remorhaz has become recently fascinating to me, and not just because of their mechanical capabilities.  Residing in the grand north of the world, somewhere beyond the Wynnrik Region, the Remorhazes and their ilk would have been one of the first batches of creatures to encounter menacing Brood as they fled the collapsing Shadowfell at the turn of the 6th Age.  This means that the once dormant, territorial creatures, fought, failed, and were corrupted by the impending swarm of shadow monsters.  What came out of such a clash was an even more formidable foe.

I have a few players it seems with a penchant for getting eaten, and with an ability like Swallow, this number continues to rise.

On their turn, a Remorhaz makes a Bite attack against a creature it is grappling (snake-like body, go figure).  If the attack hits, you're looking at 6d10+7 piercing damage PLUS 2d6 fire damage, AND the creature is swallowed.  While swallowed, they are considered blinded and restrained, and will suffer 6d6 acid damage at the start of each of Remorhaz's turns.

Now, that's pretty awful.  However, your allies can deal damage to this thing while you're in its gullet.  Deal enough damage in a single turn and the thing has to make DC 15 Constitution Save or regurgitate you.  ...HOWEVER, if this thing swallowed you BEFORE it moved, it can now burrow 20 feet down (movement speed).  Without a player with Sentinel, you're in BIG trouble if they can't hit it hard enough with attacks of opportunity.  
  If you're still conscious, you might be able to get yourself out.  Restrained only brings your speed to 0, gives others advantage on attacking you, and your attacks and Dex Saves have disadvantage.  You can engage in trying to hack your way out (which at higher levels is completely kosher), cast a spell, and so on.  But if the odds aren't in your favor, your body might be SOL.

Let's shut down that Fireball and Cone of Cold immediately, shall we?

Every time a creature touches the Remorhaz or hits it with a Melee attack while within 5 feet of it takes 3d6 fire damage.  Every hit.  Not every turn, or every round.  EVERY.  HIT.
  This one is nasty.  True, average damage here is only 10 fire, but it can add up quick.  Imagine your Monk suffering 40 damage just for smacking the creature with their Flurry of Blows; sure, the thing can't take Reactions now, but the martial artist is melting.  It forces you to pay attention to a creature's mobility, economy, and range - so YAY for tactics!

After their brush with the Brood, the resulting surge of necrosis and corruption moved through the species, garnering them two new curious features.  
  First is an immunity to Necrotic damage.
  Second, a plethora of pulsing, bulbous tumors and sacks that litter their bodies.  Every time the Remorhaz suffers damage (except Psychic damage), one of the boiling tumors bursts (GROSS).  Every creature within 5 feet of the creature immediately suffers 2d6 Acid damage.  Oops.  
It makes the 5-foot radius around them extra volatile, and just like before, no saving throw.  This, coupled with the Heated Body feature, can really mess with the melee attackers and how they synergize with ranged support.
​  Keep your healers healthy, you're gonna' need it.

Also, I've been painting two of them!  Trying to follow the picture in the book for once.  So far his color test is looking really nice.  Can't wait to tighten up everything, smooth the fades, and finish him up.

Stay safe and don't get swallowed.  
See you at the table.
​- Adamus

Normally she plays casters, so I asked if she wanted something familiar, or something new.  She picked the latter, citing that a non-caster would be welcome.  Knowing her, and her trust in me, I decided to give her something with enough technical choices to engage her caster experience, without worrying about spells, and had enough oomph to keep her on the front lines (when normally she doesn't put herself there), and finally some quirk to make things a little silly.

She's mentioned wanting to one day try a Kobold, so now's a great time to try it out.  
To keep her AC high, I've awarded her a Ring Of Protection and some Bracers Of Defense.  We rolled a decent array so I'll put a high stat in Dexterity and round out her Wisdom, and our Unarmored Defense will take care of the rest.

So we started with an 18, 16, 14, 13, 12, and a 6.  We'll put that 6 in Charisma because that's hilarious, and the 14 in Strength.  18 and 16 in Dexterity and Wisdom respectively, and we'll fill out the 12 and 13 in Constitution and Intelligence.

Kobolds are one of the few races in 5E that suffer an attribute penalty.  -2 Strength and +2 Dexterity brings our Strength modifier to a lovely little +1 and our Dexterity already maxed out at 20 for a +5.  To keep this little spitfire moving, I grant the Mobile Feat (+10 feet of movement!, among other things) at Level 4, and then we'll up her Wisdom to 18 (so her AC goes up too).  

Add on her Grovel, Cower, and Beg feature, Darkvision, and Pack Tactics, this is rapidly becoming Team Advantage!  Slap a pair of sunglasses on that sucker, and Sunlight Sensitivity is no problemo.

Name: AKI
Race:  Kobold       Class: Monk 8, Way of the Open Hand
HP: 64    AC: 22    Speed: 55    Initiative: +5    
STR 12 (+1)   DEX 20 (+5)   CON 12 (+1)   INT 13 (+1)   WIS 18 (+4)   CHA 6 (-2)
Saves: STR +5, DEX +9   
Gear: BAGPIPES (used hilariously as a sled, and played every time she fells an enemy),
​Bracers of Defense*, Ring of Protection*, Ring of Mind Shielding* (just because)

In practice, Aki is bloody hilarious.  When paired with our spry halfling barbarian, the small brigade is a force to be reckoned with, felling just about every big foe I can throw at them.  In character interactions, Aki is adorable, ravenous, and entirely loud at the worst times.  Mechanically, she has lots to work with using her Ki Points, but it's always the same list, and Open Hand gives her plenty of options to pivot to what needs to be shut down each round - whether it be Reactions, pushing them away, knocking them down - plenty of choice points.  

As it stands, Aki is currently level 12 in our Knight Owls Season 3 campaign.  
I'd say the character was a hit.

See you at the table.
-Adamus

Okay.  Rant time.

I've been doing this gig for a while now.  I've devoted hundreds of hours to cultivating my craft of storytelling, rulings, incorporation, and character growth.  I've written thousands of words on my campaigns, I've written music for them, I paint my own materials and build my own sets.  I reflect daily on how to be a better storyteller and a better teacher on every side of the table.  I'm not perfect, no DM is, but I think I'm doing pretty damn good.  
Every encounter I've run, even if difficult, has multiple ways to win.  I never railroad, and I'm always open to creative solutions.  Even a suicide mission has a way out (though it may be a bit dishonorable, still a way out).

And yet.

Players who have played with me for years...are still questioning my intentions.  Like I haven't been making this my LITERAL JOB for LITERALLY YEARS or anything.  And I'm not talking like questioning my rulings, no; that's welcomed, we can discuss that stuff.  I don't want my players to be scared of bringing up elements for discussion.  What I'm talking about can be summed up into two main requests.

If I have continually given you scenarios where there are multiple ways to solve them, do not assume that THIS scenario is somehow a railroad.  I have NEVER navigated a party to a no-win scenario.  Enemies have been tough, but even those that feel "unfair"...have a puzzle.  There are ways around and through everything I set up.  Always.  That's how I've always done it; it leaves room for the players to kick ass in unexpected ways, and that's great.
  If the fight hasn't begun, and you haven't seen the literal character sheets I'm working from, how can you make ANY sweeping conclusions about how it's going to go...unless you're assuming that I'm trying to kill the party, which, if you have ever read this blog or listened to anything I do, you know would be ludicrous.  Challenge?  Yes.  Kill unfairly?  NEVER.
Also, until the conclusion of the plot arc...maybe don't pass judgement on it.  You might think you're the smartest cookie in the box, but that doesn't mean you're right.  And just because you're presented something "unfair," doesn't mean it's impossible.  Take a deep breath and figure it out - that's part of what makes this game work.
  AND we've already established that CRs are mostly BS so...what's your problem?  

​Try.  See what happens.  You might surprise yourself.
Maybe give me the benefit of the doubt...because that's what I've always done for my players (maybe even to a fault).

Wait, didn't that guy get away?
He did.
Was he on the ship?
You don't know.
Can you just tell us?
No.
C'mon!
Why?
So I can stop worrying about it!
...Then definitely no.
But he literally killed me last time!
So?
And we threw him in lava!  How did he survive?
Yes, isn't that interesting.  There is indeed a reason.
Really?  Is it because he's impossible to kill?
...No.  There's a reason, though.
Yeah?  What is it!  Tell me or I'll keep complaining and insulting your style of DMing, checking to see if you intended to paint our entire existence as a no-win scenario because you suck, and questioning your every move!
...Commence minimal spoilers to appease whining...

Now, the above scenario applies to only a few conversations that have prompted this post, but dare I put forth a radical idea: NOT KNOWING THE OUTCOME OF SOMETHING CAN BE EXCITING.  Not everything gets wrapped up in a neat little bow; loose ends are a part of storytelling, and that tense uncertainty is a GOOD THING in a narrative, especially a cooperative one.
  Do you REALLY need to know that you DEFINITELY killed that guy and he's never coming back?  Or could you be excited if he ever returned?  Could you rejoice in discovering IN PLAY why he seems immortal?  Solve the mystery, damn it. 

I have players that jump at the chance to figure this stuff out...and a tiny percentage of others that seem annoyed if they don't know everything - like they were somehow entitled to.  And if they didn't know, then it "just wasn't fair." 
Grow up.  Put on your big kid pants and deal with the fact that you may not know everything.  Mystery is a part of storytelling, hell it's a part of LIFE, and I don't feel like giving up my mysteries or loose ends because you're whining for them.  
If you're not sure you're going to win because your level is too low, or your perceived enemies have too many hit points, or he has too many spell slots, or he's resistant to my damage type, or his AC is too high (saving throws might suck, ya' know), or no one took healing spirit.

Figure.  It.  Out.  These are challenges, not impossibilities.  If you've learned anything from me, it should be that I'm not a jerk GM.  I kill my darlings, I'm happy when you win, I just want you to have a good time and feel satisfied.
Not all problems will be solved by mechanics and probability alone.  This is a game that promotes creative problem solving.  So do some problem solving!  Don't throw up your hands and say "I can't because my character blah blah blah blah - I've heard enough.  
I'll help you if you get stuck, but I ain't doing it for you, and I'm pretty sure that's how people like it.
Enough with this baloney sandwich. 

I'll see you at the table.

And that's all I can say for now.  Adults can make their own decisions as to the level of buzz they want to ride, and that changes from individual to individual, night to night.  The only things I can do is maintain my own control level, be consistent, and stay kind.  My players will sort themselves out as long as I keep a good table with clear expectations.  Speaking of which...

See you over there.
​-Adamus

  Aboleths have ancient, flawless memories, and pass on their knowledge from generation to generation.  This quality keeps the insult of the gods fresh and alive, perfectly preserved in their minds.  They are also treasure troves of ancient lore.  These entities play the long game; calling eons of planning to bear, patient and intricate.  

Warlocks act as Strikers - bringing divine punishment upon their enemies, but they're not tank-y in any way.  My key abilities are Charisma, Constitution, and Intelligence, in that order, so my Gnome racial bonuses are BOSS.  Let's stat it out:
STR 11 (+0)
DEX 12 (+1)
CON 16 (+3) = 15 + 1 at Level 4.
INT 16 (+3) = 14 + 2
WIS 10
CHA 20 (+5) = 17 + 2 + 1 at Level 4.

Being Small, my speed is only 5 squares, but it helps to have some Low-Light Vision too.
Armor is Cloth and Leather only, but my Defense Bonuses are +1 to Reflex and +1 Will.
Weapon Proficiencies: Simple Melee, Simple Ranged

1) ELDRITCH BLAST - Your At-Will powers are intrinsically tied to your class choice by theme and pact, so Eldritch Blast is an automatic At-Will power.  Your Eldritch Pact decides your other At-Will power...
2) ELDRITCH PACT - You get three choices: Fey, Infernal, Star.  This selection decides your second At-Will power, as it is mechanically tied to the flavor of the pact.  Star punishes movement toward you with Dire Radiance (Movement), Fey makes you Invisible with Eyebite (Buff), Infernal channels additional damage to a target when I take damage with Hellish Rebuke (Offense).  Each one is still an initial attack roll, with the appropriate follow-up bonus.  I'm going with Hellish Rebuke, because the language specifies that the target doesn't have to be the one that damages me; I could take damage from something else entirely, and still automatically deal 1d6+3 fire damage to my chosen target.  That's nice.  Also, I get Dark One's Blessing, which grants me temporary HP when a creature under my Warlock's Curse (see below), dies.
3) PRIME SHOT - As long as I'm the closest to my target (so no ally is closer than I), I get a +1 to all ranged attack rolls against that target.  Nifty.
4) SHADOW WALK - As long as I travel at least 3 squares on my turn, I gain Concealment until the end of my next turn.  Which is great, because I plan to keep my distance whenever possible.
5) WARLOCK'S CURSE - once per turn, as a Minor Action, I curse a dude.  That dude is more vulnerable to my nasty attacks and takes extra damage (+1d6 for now).  So there.
6) IMPLEMENTS -  Warlocks make use of specific powerful wands or rods or pact daggers that add extra powers or bonuses to their spells.  Cool beans.

A Level 4 dude has 2 At-Will Powers, 2 Encounter Powers (not including other class features, or racial abilities), 1 Utility Power, and 1 Daily Power.  Many of my powers are already pre-determined by my Infernal Pact choice, so let's just lay them out.

At-Wills 
1) Eldritch Blast - you can choose your Charisma or Constitution to help out with this spell, but you can't change later.  Charisma is my OBVIOUS CHOICE with a +5 modifier.  With the added benefit of this spell counting as a basic ranged attack, allies that grant such opportunities open up a world of hurt against our enemies.  
2) Hellish Rebuke - Constitution-based ranged attack vs. Reflex, so 1d6+3 fire damage if I hit.  The added bonus is they take an extra 1d6+3 fire damage if I take ANY damage before the end of my next turn.

Encounters
Racial) Fade Away - We've talked about this.  Take damage, go invisible!
1st Level) Diabolic Grasp - Another Constitution-based power that hits nice for 2d8+3, and will move the target 4 freaking squares!  
3rd Level) Fiery Bolt - 3d6+3 fire damage, and burst 1 with 1d6+3 fire damage, with another +3 for my Intelligence.  Ouch.

Daily
1) Armor of Agathys - Gain some 13 Temporary Hit points and any enemy that starts its turn adjacent to me takes 1d6+3 Cold damage until the END OF THE ENCOUNTER.

Utility - Daily
2nd Level) Fiendish Resilience - Minor Action to give myself 8 temporary hit points.  Meh.  No choice in the matter.

FEAT SELECTION
1) Improved Initiative - the earlier I go, the better.  +4.
2) Improved Dark One's Blessing - when a Cursed enemy drops to 0, I'll gain 7 temp HP instead of 4.
​4) Magic Of The Mists - retain Fade Away when I attack.  Booyah.

Basic Melee = Sickle; +4 to hit, 1d6 damage --- Sickles have +2 Proficiency, + Strength (0) + 1/2 Level (2)
Basic Ranged = Hand Crossbow; +5 to hit, 1d6+1 damage --- Hand Crossbows have +2 Proficiency + Dex (1) + 1/2 Level (2)*
**I don't plan on using this, as my Eldritch Blast counts as a Basic Ranged Attack.  1d10+5, with a +9 to hit is way better.**
Implement: Magic Tome = +1 Attack and Damage rolls, but on a Critical add 1d6 damage.
At-Will Powers: ELDRITCH BLAST, Hellish Rebuke
Encounter Powers: Fade Away [R], Diabolic Grasp, Fiery Bolt
Daily Powers: Armor of Agathys

HP: 30 (15 at level 1, +5 per level [15])
Healing Surges:  9 (6+3)   Surge Value: 7
AC: 15 --- (10+1/2 level [12]+Dexterity Mod [1]+Leather Armor [2]
Fortitude: 15 --- (10+1/2 Level [12]+Con Mod [3])
Reflex: 16 --- (Int +3 + 12 + 1)
Will: 18 --- (Cha +5 + 12 + 1)
Trained Skills: Arcana, Bluff, Intimidate, Streetwise

Gnome made.  Let's blow some stuff up.
See you at the table.
​-Adamus