This campaign takes place in my Homebrew continent of Stormwyn, an ancient land only recently repopulated and resettled. Abandoned castles and old ruins of eons past are not uncommon. The kingdoms that rule this land try to establish order, but laws are vague and borders are fuzzy. Most society is found in large city-states that have their own government. You, an upstart adventurer, are in one of these great city-states called Acriseon and you have just received a letter. It has a fancy gold trim and a intricate stamp sealing it shut. Inside are instructions to a grand manor and an enticing offer you can't refuse. 1,000 gold pieces. If you are interested, submit a character using the template below
Characters start at level 6. All subclasses and certified WotC content is allowed, NO homebrew. Expected posting is about 2-3 times a day (if we are in combat, that might speed up a little. I like to keep my battles quick and intense). Player Buy In: A lot of it will be exploration and roleplay. Magic items are a little more common than you'd expect. It will be very cool. Ability scores can be rolled or standard array.
Name:
Class(and subclass):
Race(and subrace):
Background:
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella):
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Class(and subclass): - Fighter (Gunslinger) - If you are OK with CR class otherwise Rouge
Race(and subrace): Halfling
Background: (Archaeologist)
Backstory: Grew up as a child of Archaeologists and around ancient digs. One of the workers took me under their wing and taught me gunsmithing and shooting skills. Now grown looking to adventure when the letter came. Can't wait.
Backstory: Suisatal was dropped at the doorstep of an an orcish monastery when she was a baby. A note from her mother read that she wished for her child not to have to bear the pain and rejection of being born half-orc among the xenophobia of her community. The monks, especially the Abbess Sister Yotel, happily took Suisatal in and raised her as a sister of their faith. The cornerstone of this monastery, and the others like it, is the belief that there was once a great orcish kingdom in a far off land, ruled over by an immortal queen, wise and merciful. They believe that all modern orcs were descended from her, but that the kingdom fell by internal treachery, and that the orcs were cast out to wander the Earth in scattered bands. The orcs who believed in this kingdom rejected the petty squabbling of their brethren, focusing instead on perfecting their bodies and spirits, in hopes that one day the queen would return to call her most worthy progeny back to that ancient land.
Suisatal grew up rarely leaving the monastery save for the occasional trip into the nearest village to beg for alms or to help local farmers to bring in the harvest, casually wondering whether each woman of a certain age who passes her by was the one who left her on the doorstep all those years ago. She doesn't blame her mother, nor does she blame the villagers she encounters on her rare trips beyond the monastery walls who eye her warily and keep their distance. She knows that many in the world fear orcs, and that apparently that fear is well founded, though she's never met another orc save the other members of her monastery, or the occasional pilgrim who stay a while to pray and listen to the sermons of sister Yotel, and none of them have ever been particularly frightening.
In truth, she knows little of the suffering outside her little bubble, save in the most hypothetical sense.
Suisatal believes wholeheartedly in the story of the lost kingdom and does her best to be worthy of it. She has grown into an exemplary sister of the monastery, and so was chosen for a special mission. Sister Yotel and the other elders have come to believe that the Lost Kingdom must have been located somewhere in the vast, unexplored wilderness of Stormwyn. They have commanded Suisatal to ride out from her monastery to see if she can rediscover it. Suisatal has taken to her new task with a will. Though she has little experience with the outside world, she is certain she will be the one to finally awaken their ancient queen, and lead all her kind to glory.
Suisatal receives her letter only a couple months after arriving in Acriseon. She has spent most of her time struggling to find an inroad into the true undiscovered parts of Stormwyn. She has found that expeditions into the deep wilderness require far more funding than she or the monastery had anticipated. She is excited to meet her new benefactor, expecting the letter must have come from a wealthy member of the church of the Long Kingdom who has gotten word of her mission.
Backstory: Maggwyn grew up your common thief. She was good at it, she liked doing it, and she didn't plan on changing her ways. She found what she needed when she needed and no one got hurt. Well, at least that's what she liked to tell herself. She lived in a large city, the low part of it and made a life for herself. She didn't kid herself that it was more than it was, but she was ok with that.
When her home was ransacked, things changed. She sought out a sorcerer that she knew, Pendleton, and he did what he could to help her channel that rage. Now she travels looking for ways to avenge what has been done to her, and stop it from happening to anyone else.
Posting: I am on CST and post a lot during the week, the weekends are a bit slower.
Backstory: At a young age, Reysatra's village was attacked by a group of bandits, killing many who lived there, including her parents. She swore revenge by banding the kingdoms together and creating a defined government with enforced rules, where people are safe and criminals are eradicated.
Backstory: Murphy is old for an adventurer. He was part of the local marine defense force, but his entire unit was destroyed when someone decided to bring a Wizard to a knife fight. He swore he would learn some tricks of his own and exact his revenge -- someday. In the meantime, he is trying to learn enough to stay alive.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Name: Fianna
Class(and subclass): Warlock (Genie) - Pact of the Chain
Race(and subrace): Human (variant)
Background: Feylost
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella):
Fianna was that child who ran out into the woods to play and never returned. The young girl found herself having a picnic in a fairy ring with imaginary friends who ended up being not all that imaginary after all. When Fianna walked out of that fairy ring, and out of those woods, she was no longer a child and the land was not how she remembered it. He family, her friends, everything was gone. Nothing was as she remembered...
With a new world to explore, and the whispered voice of her patron in the back of her head, Fianna headed out searching for... she didn't even know what. And when the letter found her at the random inn she found herself staying at she couldn't help but think it was destiny calling.
(I'd be playing Pact of the Genie but "reskinning" the genie into a Fey for RP purposes...)
Ability scores: 101313111217
((Possibly Manipulated Dice warning 'cause I edited above the roll to change from a multi class to straight Warlock... Happy to re-roll if you prefer.))
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): Mordian has a chill attitude. He is always positive, but not in an upbeat positive way. More of a “zen” positivity. He is here to help others accept death, not as a way to intimidate, but for those who are anxious of the unknown. He is the head grounds keeper for a cemetery of a small town. He has a certain friendly oddness to him.
Class(and subclass): Warlock - Pact of the Chain (Archfey Patron)
Race(and subrace): Harengon, if allowed. If not, then Firbolg
Background: Feylost
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): Tirfan was spirited away into the Feywild as a child by his father, who worked for the Witchlight Carnival. He grew up there, often accompanying his father's visits to the different courts. It was on one such visit he met his Archfey patron, who allowed Tirfan to join their court as a welcome escape from his father and the carnival life. Once he was old enough to look after himself in the mortal plane, Tirfan's patron helped him find his way out of the Feywild, away from his father's influence and with the promise that he would return one day to help his patron do the same.
Novella: Elmer's father was a watch-maker, and Elmer took after him, and, eventually his keen intellect led him to arcane imbuments. That was many years ago, and now many tinkerers and folk with heirlooms and odd apparatus come to Elmer for maintenance and repair.
Stats: 16, 15, 14, 13, 8, 8 (rolled in post above)
Name - E. "Rat King" Mosley Race - Dhampir (not half-vampire, but afflicted with a supernatural hunger) Class - Ranger (Swarmkeeper) Background - Urchin Backstory:
E. Mosley doesn't know his first name. Well, no, that's not entirely true. He knows the first letter, which is more than many other abandoned children can say. He went much of his early life without a name at all, until he found a fellow urchin who could read the writing on the inside of the too-large coat he had worn all his life. The boy, nicknamed 'Specs' by his peers, (after his level of education, not after his glasses, as Specs actually had excellent eyesight) was heavily respected by the other urchins, since literacy wasn't exactly common among their ranks. He took one look at the writing, and announced that it read "E. Mosley." It was only half of a name plus a letter, but it was better than nothing.
Before he gained a true name, however, E. Mosley had a placeholder. It was tradition among the urchin gangs to bestow a name upon the nameless, and Mosley's gang, the Amphitheaters, (they didn't actually know what the word meant, but it sounded like a rather grand name for a gang) christened him with the nickname of "Rat King." This nickname came from the unusual affinity that Mosley shared with the rats of Acriseon.
Rats are everywhere in any city worth its salt, and in Acriseon doubly so. They scurry in the gutters, paddle in the waterways, lurk in the muck beneath the bridges. While above, the people go about their business, the true rulers of the city devour their scraps and refuse, and multiply, and watch with millions of pairs of glowing, beady eyes. The way Mosley had always seen it, kids like him were barely a step above the rats. He slept in the same gutters as they did, ate the same scraps as them, drank from the same muddy pools of rainwater. E. Mosley made a point of always being wherever the rats where. Because wherever there are rats, there's bound to be food, however mildewed, stale, or both. And if no food can be found, then there's always the rats. He made sure to try and avoid eating them whenever he could, however. They seemed to like him, or at least tolerate him, and he didn't want to get too much of a reputation or they might begin to avoid him.
Still, sometimes he had no choice.
E. Mosley was starving to death when it happened. That sounds dramatic, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounds. Well, it was as bad as it sounds in that he was definitely very close to death, but he had also been there before. Dozens of times, really. It was just how things went. Sometimes, when he was in such a situation, the rats would come to his aid. Mosley never saw them, but when he found a little scrap of moldy bread just lying there, with those dozens of little eyes shining from the darkness, he knew. He had almost lost consciousness when he heard it. A shuffling, scraping noise, and the sounds of little feet, quiet squeaks. Weakly craning his head, he saw those little eyes watching from the darkness, and in front of him...
It was a rat. At least, at first he thought it was a rat. But though his vision was blurry, he realized that it wasn't just one. It was a dozen, at least. All of them unmoving, and their tails... each rat's tail stretched out behind it, wrapped around another, kept wrapping and twisting and knotting together with the others until the tails were indistinguishable from each other, just a lumpy pink-beige ball. E. Mosley had heard of such things before. Bits of string, or adhesive, or something else causes the rats' tails to get stuck together, and more and more get stuck until there's too many for them to move around enough to get food and they all starve together, unable to drag the dead masses of their comrades. Mosley looked at the beady eyes, the furry shapes in the darkness. They had brought him their own brethren to eat. Should he be concerned by this? He realized that he was too hungry to care. As he wrapped his hand around the tail-knot, which still felt strange in his hand, somehow both warm and cold at the same time, he remembered what they called these things.
Rat kings.
As he opened his mouth, he allowed himself a delirious little laugh. Oh well, he thought. You are what you eat.
Perhaps if he had paid more attention to the strange cold-warmth of the tail-knot. Perhaps if he had seen the way that the tails weren't just knotted together, and instead fused and bled into each other, like chocolate that had been warmed and chilled again. Perhaps if he had felt the way that the tail-knot gently pulsed, swelled and contracted, like the arrhythmic beating of a sickly heart. Perhaps if any of these things, he would have chosen not to sink his teeth into the ripe rat-flesh. Perhaps he would have chosen the abyss of death instead, gone to whatever end the gods had planned for him. Probably not, but he can dream, can't he?
When E. Mosley woke, he was still hungry. No, not just hungry. Somehow, he was hungrier than he had ever been, even more than when he was lying on the ground half-dead just a little while ago. The hunger burned with a cold heat that felt oddly familiar, but paradoxically he didn't feel as weak as he had before. He felt like garbage, of course, but he could walk. He made it a few steps when he felt it move inside of him. Something in the ragged pit of his stomach. At first, he thought it was just his stomach growling. Then it happened again. Something was somehow, impossibly, alive in there. Inside of him.
Mosley suddenly doubled over, coughed, retched, gasped and hacked. Tears streamed down his face as he convulsed. Eventually, after a terrible, awful... minute? Hour? Day? He had no idea how long he was there, coughing, but eventually he felt something come up, and he spat it on the ground. It was a lump of black fur. For a moment, he thought it was over. Then, the lump twitched, stood up, turned, looked at him with those beady, shining eyes. And then the movement started again. As E. Mosley screamed, the thing with a hundred and one heads but a single tail, the thing that was dead but refused to die, screamed along with him, a terrible cacophony of high pitched screeching, and the thousands of glowing beady eyes watched from the shadows.
Since that time, E. Mosley has changed. He rarely enters the sunlight these days, though occasionally he surfaces for food or other little jobs that earn a few coins that he spends on provisions for himself. Though ordinary food isn't entirely to their tastes, anymore. Mosley's human hunger is sated by it, but the thing that lives inside of him, the thing that is him, needs more than that. And when his murine friends hunger, he hungers as well. If the hundreds of tiny black shapes that surround him at all times don't feed, Mosley feels as if he hasn't eaten either, and then the pangs start all over again. And they like meat. At the very least, Mosley is happy that he doesn't have to directly sink his teeth into anyone.
E. Mosley is very careful about who he chooses to... join the swarm, in a way. He may be monstrous, but he's no monster. The worst of the worst, the killers, the crooks, the people who ruin others' lives for their own gain. The ones who deserve to, if you'll forgive the little joke, pay the piper for their misdeeds. The monsters of Acriseon have learned to fear a monster of their own, for no one knows what alley the Rat King, as they call it, might be lurking in. At times, Mosley hates what he's become, what the rats have made him into, but most of the time he understands that he couldn't be anything other than a monster.
After all, you are what you eat.
(I hope you'll forgive my overly lengthy, morbid little tale. I know you asked for a short backstory, but I got just a bit carried away writing this thing, but I was having such fun that to cut it short felt wrong. I've included a TL;DR below.)
TL;DR:
E. Mosley was an urchin in Acriseon who always felt a weird affinity with its rats, and felt like he was much closer to them that other people. Sometimes, when he was starving, the rats would provide him with food, and sometimes he'd eat the rats themselves. One time, when he was starving, the rats brought him something that looked like a "Rat King," a bunch of rats with their tails tied together. However, it was actually... well, I don't actually know, but some sort of weird magical rat-parasite thing. He ate it (yes, it's gross, the whole backstory is kinda nasty, though I try and stray away from being too explicit) and when he woke up he was filled with hunger, and the rat king was still alive inside him. He underwent some wacky change, and now he's a not-entirely-alive vigilante with a magical influence over rats, which he uses to... dispose of the really nasty people of Acriseon, making the streets safer and feeding the hunger of the thing inside him, which feeds whenever his rats feed.
Ability scores: 991411137
(Oh, another thing I probably should have mentioned: E. Mosley isn't evil, he's just been forced into a situation that requires him to do distasteful things in order to survive. He only allows the rats to feed on the truly despicable, and he doesn't even eat any meat himself, he's totally vegetarian. Meat has just become distasteful to him, since his change.)
This sounds cool. I'll roll ability scores and put together my character sheet.
Ability scores: 14141515715
Name: Loose String (String)
Class(and subclass): Bard (College of Swords)
Race(and subrace): Tabaxi
Background: Mercenary Veteran
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): String was a long time member of the Mercenary Guild. However, after a disagreement with his flair for the dramatic, even in battle, several members had him booted out. So, not one to rest on his laurels, String went from town to town, selling his skills. A town here, a town there, but never anything exciting. When he's not out flourishing his rapier, he's carousing about the nearest tavern. Drinking, listening, chuckling at what he would overhear, juggling and playing with a ball of string in one hand almost constantly. At any chance he gets to regale the patrons with a story of daring adventures, he lithely jumps upon a table, swishing his rapier about as he re-enacts for the enthralled patrons. His clothes are cleanly kept but show wear and tear, and several repairs, but still look quite respectable nonetheless.
Backstory: When he was 10 years old his magic manifested and he was ecstatic, no more than a week later a devil, claiming to be his ancestor offered a pact to be his patron. This pact would grant him great untold power, but it would also give the patron power over his world. When he refused, the devil cursed him, saying that he would never have full control over his magic. The next time he tried to cast a spell, it resulted in a magic explosion that burnt down his entire orphanage along with everyone *inside* leaving him the only survivor of the orphanage. He has been wandering aimlessly, living on the street ever since, and he tries to avoid using powerful magic
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Name: Dr. Ander "Wily" Hucklefinn
Class: Artificer 4 (Battle Smith), Wizard 2 (School of Evocation)
Race: Rock Gnome
Background: Izzet Engineer
Backstory: Wily was an eager scholar, studying along who was once his best friend in the entire realm, Dr. Harold Bramblethorn. Together, the two young men created an automation with emotions, one that could feel pain and happiness just as a human would. They called it the "Geared-Man". This automation malfunctioned, destroying some of the small clockwork inventions the two were working on. After the unfortunate incident, Harold asked Wily to destroy the plans for additional versions of the man and start from the beginning. However, Wily stole the plans and ran away, claiming that Harold was "Leeching off of his glorious ideas". He escaped in a small, incomplete shuttle that the pair were working on, vowing to conquer the world and let Harold burn in the underworld. Safe to say, he didn't conquer much.
Ability Scores:151611131115
[Small question if I get accepted for this: Could I flavor my Steel Defender to be a sort of tank or mech of sorts? Planning to mount it.]
Name: Amih Class(and subclass): Wizard (War Mage) Race(and subrace): Harengon Background: Outlander Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): Ameh has lived his life in the wilder areas, traveling with the animals and keeping away from civilized areas for the most part. He became known as a protecter of the region he often traveled, helping the forest for the most part, but a few lost souls, or those in dire need, were aided as needed. The villages near his territory knew him, as he came to them for supplies he could not make for himself. They knew to ask him for help if they needed anything. News must have traveled further afield though, as, when he came to one of the villages for his normal supply run, they had a fancy letter waiting for him.
This campaign takes place in my Homebrew continent of Stormwyn, an ancient land only recently repopulated and resettled. Abandoned castles and old ruins of eons past are not uncommon. The kingdoms that rule this land try to establish order, but laws are vague and borders are fuzzy. Most society is found in large city-states that have their own government. You, an upstart adventurer, are in one of these great city-states called Acriseon and you have just received a letter. It has a fancy gold trim and a intricate stamp sealing it shut. Inside are instructions to a grand manor and an enticing offer you can't refuse. 1,000 gold pieces. If you are interested, submit a character using the template below
Characters start at level 6. All subclasses and certified WotC content is allowed, NO homebrew. Expected posting is about 2-3 times a day (if we are in combat, that might speed up a little. I like to keep my battles quick and intense). Player Buy In: A lot of it will be exploration and roleplay. Magic items are a little more common than you'd expect. It will be very cool. Ability scores can be rolled or standard array.
Name:
Class(and subclass):
Race(and subrace):
Background:
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella):
Ability Scores:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
- Litany Against Fear, Frank Herbert
Name: Corvis (LINK)
Class(and subclass):
- Fighter (Gunslinger) - If you are OK with CR class otherwise Rouge
Race(and subrace): Halfling
Background: (Archaeologist)
Backstory: Grew up as a child of Archaeologists and around ancient digs. One of the workers took me under their wing and taught me gunsmithing and shooting skills. Now grown looking to adventure when the letter came. Can't wait.
Ability Scores: 11 15 15 16 15 13
D&D since 1984
Name: Suisatal
Class(and subclass): Monk/Way of the Kensei
Race(and subrace): Half-orc
Background: Hermit
Backstory: Suisatal was dropped at the doorstep of an an orcish monastery when she was a baby. A note from her mother read that she wished for her child not to have to bear the pain and rejection of being born half-orc among the xenophobia of her community. The monks, especially the Abbess Sister Yotel, happily took Suisatal in and raised her as a sister of their faith. The cornerstone of this monastery, and the others like it, is the belief that there was once a great orcish kingdom in a far off land, ruled over by an immortal queen, wise and merciful. They believe that all modern orcs were descended from her, but that the kingdom fell by internal treachery, and that the orcs were cast out to wander the Earth in scattered bands. The orcs who believed in this kingdom rejected the petty squabbling of their brethren, focusing instead on perfecting their bodies and spirits, in hopes that one day the queen would return to call her most worthy progeny back to that ancient land.
Suisatal grew up rarely leaving the monastery save for the occasional trip into the nearest village to beg for alms or to help local farmers to bring in the harvest, casually wondering whether each woman of a certain age who passes her by was the one who left her on the doorstep all those years ago. She doesn't blame her mother, nor does she blame the villagers she encounters on her rare trips beyond the monastery walls who eye her warily and keep their distance. She knows that many in the world fear orcs, and that apparently that fear is well founded, though she's never met another orc save the other members of her monastery, or the occasional pilgrim who stay a while to pray and listen to the sermons of sister Yotel, and none of them have ever been particularly frightening.
In truth, she knows little of the suffering outside her little bubble, save in the most hypothetical sense.
Suisatal believes wholeheartedly in the story of the lost kingdom and does her best to be worthy of it. She has grown into an exemplary sister of the monastery, and so was chosen for a special mission. Sister Yotel and the other elders have come to believe that the Lost Kingdom must have been located somewhere in the vast, unexplored wilderness of Stormwyn. They have commanded Suisatal to ride out from her monastery to see if she can rediscover it. Suisatal has taken to her new task with a will. Though she has little experience with the outside world, she is certain she will be the one to finally awaken their ancient queen, and lead all her kind to glory.
Suisatal receives her letter only a couple months after arriving in Acriseon. She has spent most of her time struggling to find an inroad into the true undiscovered parts of Stormwyn. She has found that expeditions into the deep wilderness require far more funding than she or the monastery had anticipated. She is excited to meet her new benefactor, expecting the letter must have come from a wealthy member of the church of the Long Kingdom who has gotten word of her mission.
Ability Scores: Ability scores: 17 12 14 12 10 14
Here's Suisatal's character sheet!
Ability scores: 12 10 8 10 14 12Standard array: 13 15 14 10 12 8
Name: Maggwyn
Class(and subclass): Rogue (swashbuckler) 3 / Barbarian (wild magic) 3
Race(and subrace): Variant Feral Tiefling
Background: Criminal/Spy
Backstory: Maggwyn grew up your common thief. She was good at it, she liked doing it, and she didn't plan on changing her ways. She found what she needed when she needed and no one got hurt. Well, at least that's what she liked to tell herself. She lived in a large city, the low part of it and made a life for herself. She didn't kid herself that it was more than it was, but she was ok with that.
When her home was ransacked, things changed. She sought out a sorcerer that she knew, Pendleton, and he did what he could to help her channel that rage. Now she travels looking for ways to avenge what has been done to her, and stop it from happening to anyone else.
Posting: I am on CST and post a lot during the week, the weekends are a bit slower.
Name: Reysatra Koehlanna
Class(and subclass): Paladin (Oath of Devotion)
Race(and subrace): Elf (High Elf)
Background: Haunted One
Backstory: At a young age, Reysatra's village was attacked by a group of bandits, killing many who lived there, including her parents. She swore revenge by banding the kingdoms together and creating a defined government with enforced rules, where people are safe and criminals are eradicated.
Ability Scores: 14, 10, 13, 12, 10, 15
-Archie
Ability scores: 12 14 9 15 15 17
Name: Murphy
Class Fighter 1/War Wizard 5
Race: Variant Human
Background: Sailor (Marine)
Backstory: Murphy is old for an adventurer. He was part of the local marine defense force, but his entire unit was destroyed when someone decided to bring a Wizard to a knife fight. He swore he would learn some tricks of his own and exact his revenge -- someday. In the meantime, he is trying to learn enough to stay alive.
Name: Fianna
Class(and subclass): Warlock (Genie) - Pact of the Chain
Race(and subrace): Human (variant)
Background: Feylost
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella):
Fianna was that child who ran out into the woods to play and never returned. The young girl found herself having a picnic in a fairy ring with imaginary friends who ended up being not all that imaginary after all. When Fianna walked out of that fairy ring, and out of those woods, she was no longer a child and the land was not how she remembered it. He family, her friends, everything was gone. Nothing was as she remembered...
With a new world to explore, and the whispered voice of her patron in the back of her head, Fianna headed out searching for... she didn't even know what. And when the letter found her at the random inn she found herself staying at she couldn't help but think it was destiny calling.
(I'd be playing Pact of the Genie but "reskinning" the genie into a Fey for RP purposes...)
Ability scores: 10 13 13 11 12 17
((Possibly Manipulated Dice warning 'cause I edited above the roll to change from a multi class to straight Warlock... Happy to re-roll if you prefer.))
https://ddb.ac/characters/69003687/n1p1mW
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Name: Mordian Shisk
Class(and subclass): Cleric (Grave Domain)
Race(and subrace): Human (variant)
Background: Hermit
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): Mordian has a chill attitude. He is always positive, but not in an upbeat positive way. More of a “zen” positivity. He is here to help others accept death, not as a way to intimidate, but for those who are anxious of the unknown. He is the head grounds keeper for a cemetery of a small town. He has a certain friendly oddness to him.
Ability Scores: (Standard Array)
Name: Tirfan
Class(and subclass): Warlock - Pact of the Chain (Archfey Patron)
Race(and subrace): Harengon, if allowed. If not, then Firbolg
Background: Feylost
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): Tirfan was spirited away into the Feywild as a child by his father, who worked for the Witchlight Carnival. He grew up there, often accompanying his father's visits to the different courts. It was on one such visit he met his Archfey patron, who allowed Tirfan to join their court as a welcome escape from his father and the carnival life. Once he was old enough to look after himself in the mortal plane, Tirfan's patron helped him find his way out of the Feywild, away from his father's influence and with the promise that he would return one day to help his patron do the same.
Ability scores: 11 14 16 10 6 10
No Longer Active
Placeholder: 15 13 14 15 14 9
Name: Elmer Reed
Class: Artificer, Armorer
Race: Variant Human
Background: Sage
Novella: Elmer's father was a watch-maker, and Elmer took after him, and, eventually his keen intellect led him to arcane imbuments. That was many years ago, and now many tinkerers and folk with heirlooms and odd apparatus come to Elmer for maintenance and repair.
Stats: 16, 15, 14, 13, 8, 8 (rolled in post above)
Name - E. "Rat King" Mosley
Race - Dhampir (not half-vampire, but afflicted with a supernatural hunger)
Class - Ranger (Swarmkeeper)
Background - Urchin
Backstory:
E. Mosley doesn't know his first name. Well, no, that's not entirely true. He knows the first letter, which is more than many other abandoned children can say. He went much of his early life without a name at all, until he found a fellow urchin who could read the writing on the inside of the too-large coat he had worn all his life. The boy, nicknamed 'Specs' by his peers, (after his level of education, not after his glasses, as Specs actually had excellent eyesight) was heavily respected by the other urchins, since literacy wasn't exactly common among their ranks. He took one look at the writing, and announced that it read "E. Mosley." It was only half of a name plus a letter, but it was better than nothing.
Before he gained a true name, however, E. Mosley had a placeholder. It was tradition among the urchin gangs to bestow a name upon the nameless, and Mosley's gang, the Amphitheaters, (they didn't actually know what the word meant, but it sounded like a rather grand name for a gang) christened him with the nickname of "Rat King." This nickname came from the unusual affinity that Mosley shared with the rats of Acriseon.
Rats are everywhere in any city worth its salt, and in Acriseon doubly so. They scurry in the gutters, paddle in the waterways, lurk in the muck beneath the bridges. While above, the people go about their business, the true rulers of the city devour their scraps and refuse, and multiply, and watch with millions of pairs of glowing, beady eyes. The way Mosley had always seen it, kids like him were barely a step above the rats. He slept in the same gutters as they did, ate the same scraps as them, drank from the same muddy pools of rainwater. E. Mosley made a point of always being wherever the rats where. Because wherever there are rats, there's bound to be food, however mildewed, stale, or both. And if no food can be found, then there's always the rats. He made sure to try and avoid eating them whenever he could, however. They seemed to like him, or at least tolerate him, and he didn't want to get too much of a reputation or they might begin to avoid him.
Still, sometimes he had no choice.
E. Mosley was starving to death when it happened. That sounds dramatic, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounds. Well, it was as bad as it sounds in that he was definitely very close to death, but he had also been there before. Dozens of times, really. It was just how things went. Sometimes, when he was in such a situation, the rats would come to his aid. Mosley never saw them, but when he found a little scrap of moldy bread just lying there, with those dozens of little eyes shining from the darkness, he knew. He had almost lost consciousness when he heard it. A shuffling, scraping noise, and the sounds of little feet, quiet squeaks. Weakly craning his head, he saw those little eyes watching from the darkness, and in front of him...
It was a rat. At least, at first he thought it was a rat. But though his vision was blurry, he realized that it wasn't just one. It was a dozen, at least. All of them unmoving, and their tails... each rat's tail stretched out behind it, wrapped around another, kept wrapping and twisting and knotting together with the others until the tails were indistinguishable from each other, just a lumpy pink-beige ball. E. Mosley had heard of such things before. Bits of string, or adhesive, or something else causes the rats' tails to get stuck together, and more and more get stuck until there's too many for them to move around enough to get food and they all starve together, unable to drag the dead masses of their comrades. Mosley looked at the beady eyes, the furry shapes in the darkness. They had brought him their own brethren to eat. Should he be concerned by this? He realized that he was too hungry to care. As he wrapped his hand around the tail-knot, which still felt strange in his hand, somehow both warm and cold at the same time, he remembered what they called these things.
Rat kings.
As he opened his mouth, he allowed himself a delirious little laugh. Oh well, he thought. You are what you eat.
Perhaps if he had paid more attention to the strange cold-warmth of the tail-knot. Perhaps if he had seen the way that the tails weren't just knotted together, and instead fused and bled into each other, like chocolate that had been warmed and chilled again. Perhaps if he had felt the way that the tail-knot gently pulsed, swelled and contracted, like the arrhythmic beating of a sickly heart. Perhaps if any of these things, he would have chosen not to sink his teeth into the ripe rat-flesh. Perhaps he would have chosen the abyss of death instead, gone to whatever end the gods had planned for him. Probably not, but he can dream, can't he?
When E. Mosley woke, he was still hungry. No, not just hungry. Somehow, he was hungrier than he had ever been, even more than when he was lying on the ground half-dead just a little while ago. The hunger burned with a cold heat that felt oddly familiar, but paradoxically he didn't feel as weak as he had before. He felt like garbage, of course, but he could walk. He made it a few steps when he felt it move inside of him. Something in the ragged pit of his stomach. At first, he thought it was just his stomach growling. Then it happened again. Something was somehow, impossibly, alive in there. Inside of him.
Mosley suddenly doubled over, coughed, retched, gasped and hacked. Tears streamed down his face as he convulsed. Eventually, after a terrible, awful... minute? Hour? Day? He had no idea how long he was there, coughing, but eventually he felt something come up, and he spat it on the ground. It was a lump of black fur. For a moment, he thought it was over. Then, the lump twitched, stood up, turned, looked at him with those beady, shining eyes. And then the movement started again. As E. Mosley screamed, the thing with a hundred and one heads but a single tail, the thing that was dead but refused to die, screamed along with him, a terrible cacophony of high pitched screeching, and the thousands of glowing beady eyes watched from the shadows.
Since that time, E. Mosley has changed. He rarely enters the sunlight these days, though occasionally he surfaces for food or other little jobs that earn a few coins that he spends on provisions for himself. Though ordinary food isn't entirely to their tastes, anymore. Mosley's human hunger is sated by it, but the thing that lives inside of him, the thing that is him, needs more than that. And when his murine friends hunger, he hungers as well. If the hundreds of tiny black shapes that surround him at all times don't feed, Mosley feels as if he hasn't eaten either, and then the pangs start all over again. And they like meat. At the very least, Mosley is happy that he doesn't have to directly sink his teeth into anyone.
E. Mosley is very careful about who he chooses to... join the swarm, in a way. He may be monstrous, but he's no monster. The worst of the worst, the killers, the crooks, the people who ruin others' lives for their own gain. The ones who deserve to, if you'll forgive the little joke, pay the piper for their misdeeds. The monsters of Acriseon have learned to fear a monster of their own, for no one knows what alley the Rat King, as they call it, might be lurking in. At times, Mosley hates what he's become, what the rats have made him into, but most of the time he understands that he couldn't be anything other than a monster.
After all, you are what you eat.
(I hope you'll forgive my overly lengthy, morbid little tale. I know you asked for a short backstory, but I got just a bit carried away writing this thing, but I was having such fun that to cut it short felt wrong. I've included a TL;DR below.)
TL;DR:
E. Mosley was an urchin in Acriseon who always felt a weird affinity with its rats, and felt like he was much closer to them that other people. Sometimes, when he was starving, the rats would provide him with food, and sometimes he'd eat the rats themselves. One time, when he was starving, the rats brought him something that looked like a "Rat King," a bunch of rats with their tails tied together. However, it was actually... well, I don't actually know, but some sort of weird magical rat-parasite thing. He ate it (yes, it's gross, the whole backstory is kinda nasty, though I try and stray away from being too explicit) and when he woke up he was filled with hunger, and the rat king was still alive inside him. He underwent some wacky change, and now he's a not-entirely-alive vigilante with a magical influence over rats, which he uses to... dispose of the really nasty people of Acriseon, making the streets safer and feeding the hunger of the thing inside him, which feeds whenever his rats feed.
Ability scores: 9 9 14 11 13 7
(Oh, another thing I probably should have mentioned: E. Mosley isn't evil, he's just been forced into a situation that requires him to do distasteful things in order to survive. He only allows the rats to feed on the truly despicable, and he doesn't even eat any meat himself, he's totally vegetarian. Meat has just become distasteful to him, since his change.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
This sounds cool. I'll roll ability scores and put together my character sheet.
Ability scores: 14 14 15 15 7 15
Name: Loose String (String)
Class(and subclass): Bard (College of Swords)
Race(and subrace): Tabaxi
Background: Mercenary Veteran
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella): String was a long time member of the Mercenary Guild. However, after a disagreement with his flair for the dramatic, even in battle, several members had him booted out. So, not one to rest on his laurels, String went from town to town, selling his skills. A town here, a town there, but never anything exciting. When he's not out flourishing his rapier, he's carousing about the nearest tavern. Drinking, listening, chuckling at what he would overhear, juggling and playing with a ball of string in one hand almost constantly. At any chance he gets to regale the patrons with a story of daring adventures, he lithely jumps upon a table, swishing his rapier about as he re-enacts for the enthralled patrons. His clothes are cleanly kept but show wear and tear, and several repairs, but still look quite respectable nonetheless.
Character Sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/69037332/RhKMIH
Name: Nameless / Cresent Redhorn
Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer
Race: Tiefling (Infernal Legacy)
Background: Haunted one
Backstory: When he was 10 years old his magic manifested and he was ecstatic, no more than a week later a devil, claiming to be his ancestor offered a pact to be his patron. This pact would grant him great untold power, but it would also give the patron power over his world. When he refused, the devil cursed him, saying that he would never have full control over his magic. The next time he tried to cast a spell, it resulted in a magic explosion that burnt down his entire orphanage along with everyone *inside* leaving him the only survivor of the orphanage. He has been wandering aimlessly, living on the street ever since, and he tries to avoid using powerful magic
Character Sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/66405977/MiLs44
Ability scores: 16 13 15 9 15 12
Name: Dr. Ander "Wily" Hucklefinn
Class: Artificer 4 (Battle Smith), Wizard 2 (School of Evocation)
Race: Rock Gnome
Background: Izzet Engineer
Backstory: Wily was an eager scholar, studying along who was once his best friend in the entire realm, Dr. Harold Bramblethorn. Together, the two young men created an automation with emotions, one that could feel pain and happiness just as a human would. They called it the "Geared-Man". This automation malfunctioned, destroying some of the small clockwork inventions the two were working on. After the unfortunate incident, Harold asked Wily to destroy the plans for additional versions of the man and start from the beginning. However, Wily stole the plans and ran away, claiming that Harold was "Leeching off of his glorious ideas". He escaped in a small, incomplete shuttle that the pair were working on, vowing to conquer the world and let Harold burn in the underworld. Safe to say, he didn't conquer much.
Ability Scores: 15 16 11 13 11 15
[Small question if I get accepted for this: Could I flavor my Steel Defender to be a sort of tank or mech of sorts? Planning to mount it.]
"Where do these guys get all their ideas?" - TommoBoi, to WOTC
DM of Night of the Nutcracker.
Ability scores: 12 14 9 14 11 15
Name: Amih
Class(and subclass): Wizard (War Mage)
Race(and subrace): Harengon
Background: Outlander
Backstory(please keep it somewhat short. I won't read a whole novella):
Ameh has lived his life in the wilder areas, traveling with the animals and keeping away from civilized areas for the most part. He became known as a protecter of the region he often traveled, helping the forest for the most part, but a few lost souls, or those in dire need, were aided as needed. The villages near his territory knew him, as he came to them for supplies he could not make for himself. They knew to ask him for help if they needed anything. News must have traveled further afield though, as, when he came to one of the villages for his normal supply run, they had a fancy letter waiting for him.
I rolled a druid (Circle of the Land, Swamp) named Thedan.
He is a Water Genasi.
Background: Sage
He's spent all his life guarding his swamp, but a series of dreams have compelled him to travel to the city and seek new fortunes.
STR 8 DEX 13 CON 17 INT 10 WIS 17 CHA 12
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/DJLongsword/characters/69025083
Ability scores: 11 15 11 14 9 12