Michael Myioius 

Michael was born in a small town outside of Neverwenter to a blacksmith father Edward Myioius and a tinkerer mother Iris Myioius, and they had a great relationship. As he grew his parents mentored him in their respective trades and he learned these skills with a prodigious talent and became very skilled in both tinkering and smithing. He became a tinkerer and blacksmith in his village, and lived a modest life with his parents in his village, but something felt wrong. He had done work for many adventures, making weapons, fixing armor straps among other jobs and as a child they amazed him. And he would at times long for something more than the modest life he lived, like he was meant for more. But that did not seem to be part of Michael’s fate, or so he thought. 

Around his 17th birthday he saw a group of children being attacked by a corrupt noble. He stood between the noble and the children while telling the noble to stop. The noble laughed and demanded Michael to move, lest he be struck down, Michael refused as a strange source of bravery washed over him. The noble went to stab Michael, but his blade was stopped by an orange and green light and the noble was thrown back and ran off. Michael was quickly declared a hero by the people of his town and champion of the gods after this feat. Realising he was chosen by Torm himself for his self sacrifice and bravery, he took the path of a Paladin, pledging his allegiance to Torm. His parents did not like this idea of his, claiming it to be too dangerous and much safer for him to stay at home. This caused many arguments, but his parents eventually yielded, knowing that this was his fate, and wishing him well on his travels. But saying first that he must smith gear to go on his journey. So he smithed a greatsword and chainmail armor, wished his parents well, not without a few tears from either side, and he set off on his journey with no idea where it would take him, all he knew is that this was the path of his destiny and he couldn’t wait to see where it took him.

Michael spent most of his time traveling, learning skills and gaining tools to help him in his fight against evil, going back home on occasion to see his parents. If a village needed help he would try his best to help. He would fight monsters, heal people, anything he could do to help. But then he was asked to help a family that had been taken by a group of bandits, but when he got there, it was more than just a small group. There were over a dozen bandits, and Michael failed to save the family, and watched them die in front of him while tied up and awaiting death himself. In a fit of righteous anger Michael broke through his bindings and killed all the bandits in the camp. He then wept over the family he failed to save, praying to Torm that their souls will be safe as they pass on. Michael will never forgive himself for his inexperience and overconfidence in that moment and works everyday to make right the way that he failed that family. He had realized that he was not a good fighter yet, he needed someone to train him on how to fight and use the gifts he was blessed with. On his journey he ran into a Dragonborn Paladin of Bahamut named Loltaak who trained him in swordplay and how the powers of a Paladin work. Loltaak also taught him how to speak and write Draconic, saying being able to communicate to more people is an important facet of being a Paladin, and that with Torm’s relationship with dragons it is a language that will give him another connection to his god. Michael and Loltaak eventually became staunch allies and the best of friends. Michael eventually confided in Loltaak about his failure and how he needs to keep improving, and Loltaak tried to convince Michael that it was not his fault and that he did the best he could, but Michael wouldn’t listen. But after a while Loltaak got summoned by Bahumut to go north to fight an evil, alone. Loltaak left almost immediately, but not saying goodbye to his friend, after a heartfelt night where they reminisce on the great memories they had and said their goodbyes, Michael and Loltaak parted ways. Michael has not seen Loltaak in 4 years, and he hopes he will meet his friend again, but he believes the worst of Loltaak’s fate. 

Once again Michael was alone, but while he knew exactly where he was, he was lost. His first real friend since he had left on his journey was gone. He threw himself back into helping people to remove himself from the sorrow of losing a friend. After some time alone again, Michael ran into a fellow Paladin of Torm under the name of Ramsay Lovell. He was a senior knight at the Order of the Radiant Heart. After helping Lovell clear out a cave of undead outside, he invited Michael to join the Order of the Radiant Heart once they found a noble to sponsor him, and eventually a sponsor was found. Michael had been accepted into the order as a junior knight. He used their libraries to teach himself celestial and learn more about any possible monster he may come across during his travels. He trained with other knights to improve his fighting skills and master any weapon he could get his hands on, but still prefered to fight with a greatsword. Though it took some time before Michael felt at home there, most of the recruits were of noble blood, and had very little experience out in the world. But eventually he found friends that grew on him, and the Order became an important part of him. Once he got to a point where he was confident in his skills he set back off to fight. Michael, as a much better trained paladin, went back to what he was doing before, helping people and fighting evil. But whenever the Order sent for him to do a mission he would go and do what he must. If these missions were not ones where he was directly helping people Michael considered it training, another way to sharpen his skills and increase his knowledge of things he may come across. He once went on a mission to collect a book on Chimera for the Order and he read a decent amount of it, learning a lot about chimeras. 

On the outside Michael can appear aloof or cold with his sometimes overly polite personality to people in authority or words dripping in sarcasm to people he dislikes, but it is mostly a facade to keep people at bay and to make his job easier. At heart Michael is a kind man who will fight for those who cannot protect themselves. He will be kind to kids and play with them if he has the time, because he believes to best help the people he has sworn to protect, he must become friends with them, equals, and earn their trust. He has been guilt ridden since he failed to save that one family and does everything he can to make it up. He has a short temper especially when people are hurting the defenseless. He shows the utmost respect for people for people in authority. But the second he sees that the people in power are abusing that very power or have authority only in an unjust system, he is the first to try to destroy the establishment, as he thinks that to be one of the worst things anyone can do. This is only strengthened by his past as a smith and the events that led him to take on an oath. Michael is not one to strike first, only attacking in self defense or the defense of others, otherwise trying to come up with a peaceful and nonviolent solution. But once blades are drawn, he is a skilled fighter who will show little mercy. Michael also does not enjoy killing, he finds great sadness in the taking of a life, but he understands that in some instances he will do what must be done to protect people. He would do anything for his friends and is very protective of them, he would do almost anything for them. Michael also has a deep understanding that Paladins, especially devotion Paladins of Torm, don’t have very long lifespans. That eventually he will fight a battle against someone too strong for him, and it will be a battle he won’t come out of and he has accepted that. The one thing Michael hopes is that when he leaves this life, he can go down swinging and saving people, as that is all he wanted to do. 

Basically, lived in a forest with a human friend of his, protecting the forest from outside threats. One day, a band of Gnolls attacked their Cabin while the Human was out foraging. Zeph managed to fight some of them off, but he was eventually overpowered. Then, deus ex machina, the human comes back, transforms into a Werebear (surprise!), and kills the remaining Gnolls, suffering fatal wounds in the process. In his final moments, he bequeathed the Curse of Lycanthropy upon Zeph, changing his life forever...

The above is only the basic layout, Zeph has a GIANT backstory.

I have a whole story arc layed out for him, would love to play him in a campaign some day.

Chapter 1

Thulsun of the ninth day of the third tenday
of The Claw of Storms in The Year of the Grinning Halfling
(Tarsakh 29, 1481 DR)

The Radiant Citadel was visible from the horizon. Tall and gleaming in silver and gold, topped with tiles that shown as rose rubies in the light of day. As travelers drew closer, they would see the windows on the highest parts of the tower shown like jade. Its buttresses and fine stone work would only become more beautiful the closer and clearer the sight became.

Those versed in religion knew that the Radiant Citadel was a major temple for the devotion of Sune. Also found within its white stone walls were devotees of Henali Celanin, Lathander, Milil, and even a few who followed Selune. However, the city was almost entirely given over to the worship of The Princess of Passion.

The houses and businesses that grew around the temple held a small population numbering about 6,000. There were farms on the outskirts, but the city primarily relied on trade to sustain itself. Being at a fairly well-traveled crossroads, the mercantile and arts found themselves at the forefront of export. Due to the temple, the site was also one of pilgrimage and the coin of adventurers was never turned away.

There were smaller temples in the city proper to various gods and goddesses, to include half a dozen dedicated to Sune that the Citadel ran. The high number of public baths, as befitting those who followed the Lady of Love, meant that the population was far cleaner than most in the Realms. The abundance of perfume and incense shops also gave the city the smell of roses in spring, even in the cold of winter. It was a pleasant place and welcoming to all.

The main road in and out was wide and paved with ornate hexagonal cobbling stones. Five armored knights on horseback could ride down the street side-by-side with enough room for people to crowd together and cheer from the raised and similarly paved walks in front of the various shops and storefronts. This made it the perfect avenue for a parade, such as the one that it hosted that day.

The bright colors and perfect grooming said those walking down the street were followers of Sune even before the ornamentation of the Goddess of Love was visible. Each had spent hours at the baths just outside of the city gates before the call of trumpets announced their arrival. Not a single person had even the barest hint of dirt on their clothes, in their hair, or under their nails. Which was quite a feat since the day prior most had found themselves waylaid by bandits on their pilgrimage into the town for the Greengrass Celebration and holy tenday.

When the Gleaming Citadel heard of their plight, they sent ten of their most faithful healers, five of their strongest warriors, and their greatest knight. It was less than a day’s march to find the pilgrims, holed up at an abandoned farm. Most of the retinue had sought shelter in the barn with a smaller group in the farmhouse. The temple’s rescue party arrived as the highwaymen were preparing to light the barn ablaze to force their quarry into the open. Their positions were quickly reversed as all the brigands were cut down.

The rest of the day was taken up with healing the injured, recovering the treasure taken, and the burying of the bandits. It was simply unsightly to leave them rotting in the open. The knight personally ensured that every pilgrim was well, regardless of their protestations. He showed that he cared for them and offered whatever comfort he could while the healers cared for the more injured.

The entire assembly of pilgrims walked in the back of the parade, heads held high and banners fluttering in the breeze. In front of the pilgrims were the bards who had accompanied them, their instruments playing a lively march while their simple magical spells caused explosive lights to burst overhead in whites, pinks, and reds. The ten Citadel healers marched ahead of the musicians, refreshed and smiling with the occasional wave to someone known in the crowd. The five warriors marched ahead of the clergy holding the banners of the temple high in the air. However, all eyes were on the figure in the front of the line, all cheers were likewise meant for him.

His horse was pure white with shining barding and red surcoat. Its rider was likewise covered in the gleaming plate of the Order of the Ruby Rose, the elite of Sune. His red silk cape fluttered in the low breeze, joined by his white surcoat. His helmet, shield, and gauntlets were carried on the back of his saddle so he could see and wave to the excited crowd. His back-length brown hair was perfectly styled and the wind gently blowing it around only added to his gallantry. His face was cleanly shaved and held the self-satisfied smile of knowing he was the best; actual knowledge of his accomplishments rather than simple pride.

As he approached, the crowd redoubled their cheering. Mothers threw flowers onto the road before him. Fathers held their youngest on shoulders with outthrust chests in pride at his passage. Children waved wooden swords and shields in the air. Maidens threw their favors and stared in longing. Young men were too caught up in the moment to feel jealousy at the attention he garnered.

One young woman, a half-elf by the gentle peak of her ear, climbed a signpost to get nearer to the mounted rider. She held out her hand in hope of nothing more than his attention, stretching as if reaching for a lifeline. He steered his mount closer to the maiden whose eyes widened with anticipation. He kissed his fingertips and gently stroked them against her outstretched hand. She swooned from the contact and fell nimbly to the ground, her friends touching her hand in disbelief as they squealed like a group of excited sirens.

It was not long before the procession entered the walled grounds of the Gleaming Citadel. Acolytes and squires closed the great doors behind the parade and it was enough to block the cheers from the crowds outside the walls. Most of the retinue sagged or sat upon the ground, but not the knight. He continued riding for the stables, still high off the energy of the parade.

He dismounted, handing the reigns to a dwarven stable hand and retrieved his gear from the saddle. His gauntlets were hooked together and placed behind the grip of his sword, his shield attached to a thong that centered it on his back, and his helmet was carried upright in his left hand. Pilgrims and clergy parted before him, their eyes filled with awe at the man who looked as fresh as he did the day he left, as if he had spent the entire time simply polishing his armor rather than slaughtering the thugs who saw the travelers as easy prey.

As he approached the great double doors of the temple, a relief of the goddess’ symbol carved into their faces, they were opened by acolytes standing within. He walked down the great hall, his armored steps loud and echoing in the brightly lit room. The sounds of a choir, singing in the musical language of the Celestials, grew louder and the hushed whispers of prayer and intimate conversation silenced at his approach.

He stopped before the main dais, over which the stained glass of the goddess stared down with bare cleavage and red locks surrounding her. Upon the pulpit was an ornately padded throne that sat Heartwarder Velus Matrol Elincot Starfire III. The knight dropped to a knee, in front of the first step, a spot of carpet on the polished stone floor silencing the strike of his plate, his chin lowered in reverence to the master of the Gleaming Citadel. Behind him, he heard the travelers as they entered and lined up along the pews. The choir grew louder still, their glorious music drowning out even the gentle mutterings of those behind him. When the choir reached their crescendo, the singers ended and the room was bathed in a perfect silence.

The abbot of the Gleaming Citadel rose from his golden throne and stepped down off the platform to stand before the knight. He clapped his hands once, twice, thrice, and the entire gallery was suddenly roaring with the applause of all in attendance, clergy and pilgrim. The paladin did not move, however. Though, his mouth again drew into a smile.

“Arise, my son. Arise.” Heartwarder Starfire said in a voice that silenced the applause. The knight stood tall before his master. “Tell me, my firstborn,” he began with a couple of shocked gasps from the crowd of pilgrims. The sounds brought a mirthful gleam to the older man’s eyes. “How did you fare against the brigands that waylaid these, our faithful?”

The man rose and turned on his heel and looked at those assembled. “They were defeated to a man, my father.” Normally, the knight wouldn’t have used such a personal term when speaking to an assembled crowd, but the Heartwarder had started it.

“And what of those whom you led?”

The knight glanced to his right to see the ten healers and five men-at-arms standing beside the pews. His arm reached to indicate them. “They were as brave as any with which I have ever served and as brave as any I hope to fight alongside again!”

More applause went up, begun by the pilgrims this time. The fifteen stood straighter and one of the healers smiled toward the knight, the promised liaison they spoke of in the baths on her mind. He returned the smile with a wink. Her cheeks blushed a deeper red than her hair as her smile grew.

The master of the temple stepped forward, silencing the new applause. “Let us give praise to Sune, Lady Firehair, for your successful pilgrimage to her Gleaming Citadel for the Greengrass Celebration and other events of our holy tenday. Let us also give praise to the Order of the Ruby Rose and her knight, Sir Volund Starfire, its greatest champion in our temple.”

The choir began again as the Heartwarder led those assembled in worship to the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Volund stood beside him, knowing that he was more the center of their worship on this day than the Heartwarder.