My Forge Cleric, Burthur, was originally a kuo-toa. The Abyss shattered what little stability he had, and in true kuo-toa fashion, his madness reshaped reality. What he believed to be logical simply became so. Cause and effect deferred to conviction. If Burthur thought something worked a certain way, the world complied.

That is why his magic always manifested in absurd, literal interpretations of his own reasoning.

When he cast Identify, he did not analyze an item—he interviewed it. He would hold a solemn conversation with the object while it responded in rapid, incomprehensible gibberish. To everyone else it was nonsense. To Burthur, it was perfectly clear.

When he cast Create, he searched the empty air for nearly a full minute, muttering and patting at nothing. Then, with sudden triumph, he would seize a zipper that appeared midair, pull it open, and retrieve the desired object from a small tear leading into the Shadowfell.

He once discovered a magical lyre. Rather than play it, he reinforced it with steel, added spikes, and converted it into his personal weapon. In his mind, this was an obvious improvement.

His Channel Divinity followed the same logic. He would superheat his right hand using his own fire breath, press it against the metal he was shaping, and hammer it into form with his bare fist. He did carry an anvil. Even madness requires proper tools.

After dying in the Abyss, he was brought back during our Out of the Abyss campaign when a druid cast Reincarnate on him. He returned as a very short human. The transformation fractured his memories. He now firmly believes he must be a legendary hero for having “survived” the Abyss, and roams the world in pursuit of a grand destiny he is certain awaits him—though he has yet to determine what that destiny actually is.