I'm planning on running the Tyranny of Dragons story, starting with Hoard of the Dragon Queen and ending with Rise of Tiamat. I haven't decided on a party size, but I would like to go ahead and open up recruitment. Application format is below.
No homebrew content. You can either roll for your stats here or use point buy.
EDIT: Reee. New to this dice-roller. For rolling stats, you can drops ones. If you roll and don't like the out-come, you can take point buy.
Since she was a young girl Celeste never felt like she belonged. Her own family scorned her, she was treated as a mere pest and she worked tirelessly to gain her parents approval. But it was never enough. By the time she was 11, they seemed to be finally warming up to her. Their only daughter. This peace and happiness she felt did not last long however. Celeste had been hanging out with a friend of hers, Exander Luciene. Both having a fun time when Celeste blacked out suddenly. When she came to, her friend was cold and lifeless in front of her. The outfit she wore had bloodstains and bits of ice were crawling up her friend's face. Terrified she fled, running home and crying to her parents. But once again, her parents scorned her. They didn't want a murderer for a daughter. Yet Celeste did not know what even happened, everything was a painful blur. Not long after, she was chased out of her home town. Branded a murderer.
Roll 4d6 7 times. Drop the lowest score. If you don't like what you rolled, you can do point-buy. OH. Ree. This dice roller works weird. Nevermind, yes you can re-roll ones. You can still take point-buy if you don't like the rolls.
Backstory: An old man leaving his old life behind. He was never happy working in a smithy. He just always thought it is what he was supposed to do. Now pushing retirement age this old, bald, dwarf is becoming an adventurer.
There is honor and bravery among many races. But few can match the dwarves in their zeal for upholding both; be it on the field of battle, or in the world of crafts. While not nobles by any stretch of the imagination, clan Frostbeard still held an honored position within the kingdom's hierarchy as a result of producing rangers and scouts that rarely went outshined by any other. This fate awaited growing Gimmor, and not once did he abhor it. The life might not be as glamorous as some of the more frontline oriented military roles or even that of the honored crafter, but this did not detract from the sense of purpose that came with the role.
Filled with the promise of this feeling and many more, Gimmor threw himself into training when the time was appropriate. No amount of eagerness could make up for a lack of the fine dexterity of some of his predecessors. Nevertheless, he kept on, and eventually joined an official recon and rescue company within the kingdom's military. A job that proved all the more necessary as the years went by, for though the dwarves controlled much of their mountain home, goblinoids and the like were prone to test their defenses. One such engagement costed him an eye and nearly his life from being nearly bisected across the middle. He survived by some miracle, though the encounter did leave its mark on him for the rest of his career. Yet, in spite of it, he held on to his vigor and optimism that kept him going through much of his training; much to the gratefulness of his peers, but the occasional disappointment of his superiors when optimism turned saccharine.
Uncertain of his future as age began to creep on him, Gimmor began contemplating retiring early to look to more familiar affairs, or even take up the role of an instructor for up-and-comming scouts. Before an official decision could be made however, Gimmor was taken aside by his superiors and assigned a task that would take him far from home. Alone. Bewildered and uncertain, honorable Gimmor buried his trepidation and accepted the task without fuss. The exact nature of it still eludes the former soldier to varying degrees, but he did relish the chance to go adventuring while the opportunity was still available to him. And who knew, he might even be able to get his eye back, if not recieve the blessings of Muradin himself someday.
An Acolyte of Helm, The Watcher, Ba'lor seeks to safeguard the weak. Growing up as a ward of the temple Ba'lor lacks experience in the wider world. The Half-Elf works tirelessly, he has seen many Clerics from his temple burn themselves out, or worse, take their duties too far and become what they seek to protect the weak from.
Backstory: Hardrian is the lone survivor of an orc raid that destroyed his home village, leaving him to survive in the wild. While he was old enough to make it on his own forma time he was never truly prepared to deal with some of the larger beasts and monsters that claimed the wilderness as their own. In a botched hunting attempt he ended up being gored by the tusks of a wild boar, breaking his ribs and an arm in the process. Whike he wasn't fatally wounded he would have died if not for the help of an adventuring party that found him.
Being in his mid to late teens when this happened, Hadrian was able to help the adventurers by basically serving as a squire and a spare archer when ot was needed. He managed to catch the attention of a ranger that traveled on and off with the group he was indebted to, soon enough being taken on as the man's apprentice. For a few years he traveled and learned from the ranger, slowly learning how to both fight off monsters and beasts alike, only going off on his own once he was sent off to find his own path. With his bow and skills he went out to learn from his own experiences.
Backstory: Rescued from the elemental plane of air still as an egg during the turmoil of the Cults of Elemental Evil, eventually blessed to hatch in the material plane by a couatl in disguise and trained by a cormyrian paladin of Lathander, Paysan Nullard now has his pilgrimage years ahead of him, when he will find his own point of view on the sunrise of the Morninglord over Toril. (more thorough version in sheet)
Backstory: Hatchling knows not where he comes from. From his earliest memories, he has only known Lord Borros, an aged dwarf wizard. Raised to be the Lord's assistant in his endless searching of texts from across the globe, Hatchling has been faithful and invaluable. Lord Borros was constantly distracted and inattentive, but he was never cruel. Hatchling felt appreciated and — in a very strange way — loved. If Hatchling had known what it was like to grow up in a "normal" home with loving parents and siblings and play time, he would have resented his master. But he only knew this life, and so it was the life he lived contentedly. Country after country, city after city, library after library, book after book, page after page ... Lord Borros and Hatchling scoured texts looking for hints and clues. At long last, just a few short months ago, they found the last piece of the puzzle. Lord Borros and Hatchling returned to their home in the mountains and prepared. They were both ecstatic and horrified. What would it mean? What did the future hold? Hatchling considered trying to convince Lord Borros to abandon his pursuit, but, in the end, he held his tongue. At last, the day came. The ritual was performed. The deed was done. The result: Lord Borros was reduced to dust, Hatchling had no memory of what, exactly, it was that had consumed their minds for his entire life, and the kenku was left with a lingering sense of a powerful and ancient presence ... and abilities he did not remember possessing before. With his master gone, and no memory of what it was they had been searching for for so long (though, if he did remember, he wondered if he would still search for it), Hatchling has embarked on a new chapter filled with questions. Where does he come from? What happened to his master? What is this presence which has given him new abilities? He takes with him a scrap of parchment scrawled upon it a word which is forgotten as soon as it is read. So many questions.