I know it probably needs some work but here is my haunted one human monk Draven's backstory
My mother and her sisters never got along and even to a point hated each other. They placed a curse on me that was supposed to kill me. My mother passed away in childbirth when the entity they made the deal with had other plans and killed her and possessed me. My father did his best to raise me but became very ill. He asked other family members to take care of me and many turned him away until my uncle on my father's side said he would take me for a price. The next 6 years were torture as he beat me and abused me. He kept me locked away from his family and the outside world. I was lucky enough to escape.
I did what I had to to survive. One night I stumbled upon a secret fight club and felt this intense pull and need to participate. The first few fights were tough but I learned far and became a pretty good fighter and made good money with the help of a man named Bastion. He taught me everything he knew. I was lucky enough to make friends with a few other fighters that helped me not feel so alone. Hector and Robbie were my two best friends. We were almost inseparable. We ate together, spared together, drank together. If one of us got in trouble the other two were always there to help. I thought of them as my brothers.
Things were going great until one day I began to hear a voice in my head. It started out quiet but with each fight It became clearer and more angry. It was demanding more carnage and suffering with each passing fight. It would tell me things like " break them" " let them feel the pain you have suffered". I just wanted to fight. I enjoyed pushing myself.
With each passing fight it became harder and harder to focus and drown out the voice in my head. I began to feel this strong urge to destroy my opponents. Things finally became too much one night and I blacked out during a fight. I came to covered in blood and standing over the decimated corpse of my opponent. I looked around at the stunned crowd as they stood silent after seeing the carnage they just witnessed.
I ran from the incident and am determined to rid myself of this thing inside me, whatever it may be. My dreams are filled with the images of the corpse of my last opponent and other images as this voice demands an almost continuous need for carnage.
Half the fun of DnD for me is creating all kinds of characters and coming up with their personalities and backstories. I finally got to join my first homebrew campaign, the DM's own created world that is steampunk-ish and militaristic with warforged and a focus on Eldath as well. This is the character that I came up with for it, a Human Life Cleric with a Haunted One background named Matthew Willow.
Matthew was born an only child to average parents in a small town, living a simple but happy life. On his 16th birthday, he happened to be out in the large forest on the outskirts of town, picking flowers and having a picnic before making his way back home. As he walked along the path, he noticed a juicy red apple hanging from a vine and suddenly he stopped and heard a voice in his head. "Relax my boy. Come, take this fruit. You know that you want it." Matthew heard the voice suggest and it was as if he couldn't help himself, nodding before walking up to the vine and reaching out to touch the apple on the vine. Unfortunately for Matthew once he had touched the 'apple', it was too late for him. The 'vine' which was actually a serpent, lowered itself down as it wrapped all around the young boy before squeezing and constricting himself tightly. Matthew just then woke up from the illusion, realizing the situation that he is in right now as he struggles helplessly and screams for help. But there was no reply, his calls ignored as he could only hear laughter in his mind. "No one will come to your aid. I have been waiting for this day oh so long. Your pure soul belongs to me now, you are mine." the voice hissed as the snake constricts tighter and cuts off Matthew's screams by covering his mouth. He could feel himself start to choke and slowly lose consciousness, the snake unhinging its jaw above the boy's head, starting to swallow his prey whole from the head down. Matthew cried with his eyes closed, his head fully inside the snake now as he was scared for his life and didn't want to die like this. But as if by some miracle, he could hear the snake scream in pain and suddenly the snake's jaw came back up as his head was now free. There was blinding white light disintegrating the snake until it was nothing but dust, the boy completely free as he covered his eyes from such a bright light, wanting to know who saved him. The light slowly dissipates and there seems to be a woman standing there, beautiful and ethereal with what seemed to be white feathery wings coming from her back. But before he could utter a word to her, she faded away, the last thing that he remembers of her is the symbol of a waterfall on her amulet. Matthew just collapsed to his knees on the forest ground, still in shock from having almost been killed and life flashing before his eyes to being saved by some sort of angel. Finally after minutes of being lost in thought, an elven ranger found him and asked what had happened, Matthew telling her about how he almost got eaten by a snake and was saved by an angel. She felt bad that she hadn't gotten here sooner to save him, offering to escort him back to his home. As he lead the way, they made it back to the town and going towards his house. But when he opened up the door, he found his parents lying dead and all bloody on the floor, snakes slowly eating their corpses as he screamed so loudly. The ranger was shocked before quickly taking out the snakes, hugging and comforting the young boy who was now an orphan. The next day she took him to the city where she found a couple willing to adopt and take him into their home as their son. That night after his first day of being with his new family, he had a terrifying nightmare. It was utter darkness and he was all alone before he could hear the sound of hissing getting closer and closer to him. Then he screamed as a giant black serpent quickly wrapped and constricted itself tightly around him, red eyes staring into his own. "You should have died. I have waited too long to lose what was promised to me. Your soul will forever be mine, that is without question. I will torment and torture you until the day that you die when I will finally claim your soul that rightfully belongs to me. Never forget this boy." the voice hissed at him before quickly opening its mouth and swallowing him alive. Matthew woke up that next morning screaming, panting and covered in sweat as he realized that it was only a nightmare but felt so real. He thought that it was just a one-time thing, but unfortunately he would have the same exact nightmare almost every night, being tormented and eaten by that serpent before waking up screaming and exhausted. He joined the church of Eldath, thinking that might help and having remembered how the angel who saved him wore the same symbol of the Goddess of Peace, Eldath. Matthew believed in their ideals of peace and devoted himself, training in their ways and planning to become a priest. But not long after this while in the middle of a morning prayer, the Goddess Eldath appeared in a vision. She chose him to become a cleric who would serve her, to do his best to help heal the wounded and promote peace in her name as opposed to violence. He agreed, believing that it was one of her angels who had saved him on that day. From that day forward as the years went on, he would travel the land and go with adventurers, helping them by healing their wounds and keeping them safe from harm. But even with his powers from Eldath, he has still been suffering from that nightmare almost every night for the past five years, reassuring others who were concerned that it was nothing and all was fine even when he knew that it wasn't. It has plagued him for so long, wearing him down as he is afraid of dying and having an intense fear of snakes as a result. He does not know that it is in fact Asmodeus who took the form of that snake on his 16th birthday, who wants his pure soul that belongs to him after having tricked his parents into signing a contract before he was born. It cleverly stated in demonic language that on their first-born child's sixteenth birthday, he would get to claim their soul for himself to do with as he pleases. After that blasted Eldath and her angel ruined his plans, he killed the boy's parents for not fulfilling their part of the contract and now gives him unending nightmares of his worst fear, torturing and intending to wear him down until he finally dies and can take that sweet pure soul of his as his long awaited reward.
In the last session, we all met up with the angel that has been mostly accompanying our party and we finally got answers as to why we were all brought together. We were all chosen by Eldath to go on a mission that our predecessors had failed back a thousand years ago, which is to find and destroy the three artifacts in order to prevent the fabric of reality from ripping and destroying everything once again, having only thirty days to do so. My character found out from her that he has been destined for this mission since before he was born, the reason why the angel saved him from his fated death long ago and why Eldath had chosen him to be her cleric as well, finding out about why he has been tormented with these nightmares and how to make them stop. He has to complete this mission and once he does, Eldath will give him peace by stopping the nightmares and keeping his soul safe for good. Of course, Asmodeus is going to know about this and not want that to happen at all so at some point during the campaign, he will appear to try to stop Matthew and take his soul while sending snakes after him after all.
I think today I'll share my smallest character so far: Naxxink Tusi, the kobold sorcerer.
Having been born with white scales and innate magical ability, it was without question that young Naxxink would someday serve as a priest for his people, bringing the orders from their dragon, Rimewrath, to his people's den. On the day that he was presented with his orb, he felt so proud.
It wasn't long after that day that both Naxxink and his fellow priests noticed that Rimewrath was acting oddly. Slowly but surely, Rimewrath became even more obsessive about his treasure and paranoid about outsiders than the average white dragon. Despite their warnings, none of the other kobolds wanted to leave the safety of their den until Rimewrath finally snapped and began attacking.
Very few Kobolds managed to escape and those that did scattered before Naxxink could gather them together. The lonliness that he felt was nearly unbearable, but he kept moving. If he just kept one foot in front of the other, that was one step further away from his mad ex-master.
One day, Naxxink managed to find a town that was mostly populated by humans, elves and other tall, smelly sorts. Oh, such shiny things they had! As he reached for a loose bag of shinies, he found himself thrown behind a bush by...another kobold!
'Silly! Foolish! You forget the agreement?' the new kobold asked.
Her expression changed when she realized that Naxxink was a newcomer. 'Come, come! See our town! You need some food, yeah? We feed you, yeah,' she said. Naxxink was lead/dragged under the town to find a sprawling sewer network, maintained by kobolds.
'Humans let us build sewers, we take little shinies. We live, they live. Need a home?' the lady kobold asked. Having no other options, Naxxink stayed. Even though it took him a while to break out of his innate desire to steal from and attack any smelly-talls, he soon learned to live their way.
As time went by, Naxxink worried about Rimewrath and its potential threat to his home. Saying goodbye to his community, Naxxink set out to find adventurers to help him...Naxxink isn't stupid, after all. Smelly-talls make great meat shields!
First draft of my Halfling Gunslinger - Tinker Goodspeed.
Never played a halfling, and obviously Gunslinger is brand-spankin' new, so, I'm sure I'm missing a lot.
Born and raised in Beluir, Tinker Goodspeed was always getting into trouble. Dangerously curious, he was usually able to get himself out of trouble with his nimble handiwork, fleet feet, and sharp tongue. Usually some combination of those three, anyway. He fancied himself a creator, inventor, and a craftsman... but, his father sent him to learn to be a soldier to help defend his people. In training, and during his short tenure as a Warder, he just always felt there was a better way... a better weapon, some better mechanism, that would help them. But, he struggled to be taken seriously.
So, he fiddled, adjusted, schemed, sketched, and tinkered. At night, he dreamed of adventures far away - he felt like he was not where he was meant to be.
It wasn't long after he left the city of his birth to wander and find his proper place in life, that he came across an elderly Dwarf while in a cavemouth, waiting out a 3-day storm. This Dwarf, Lulgror Copperforge, had made a discovery, and wanted to pass that information on before his end. Tinker spent the next week in the caves, performing tasks and trying to best the challenges of this elderly, untrusting hermit. Once Lulgror was convinced, he showed Tinker the Black Powder... and what it did. He instructed his apprentice how to find it, how carefully to extract it from the earth, and how to craft the strange weapons and ammunition. So, when at last Logror send him away so that he could be at peace before his death, Tinker had his first Pistol, and the knowledge of how to use, repair, and rearm it.
Of course, that knowledge was never enough for the likes of Tinker. He dreamed up improvements, practiced his aim, and tried to keep his little "tool" a secret. But word spread, and soon enough, there was a weird man who came to him, asking him to create a weapon. This was different, sort of a cross between a pistol and a crossbow. Since Tinker was familiar with both, he was able to make it work. But, in his dealings with the man, he felt he was nefarious and only wanted the "Bowcannon" for revenge. He backed out of the deal, returned the gold, and managed to talk his way out of what could have been his early death.
New obsession in hand, he wanders around, exploring the world, and trying, in some small way, to help.
I hadn't seen this thread! So many cool character stories.
Here is my current character, Zyllyyn the Elf Assassin, that I am playing in a Dragon Heist game.
Zyllyyn was born to a large elven family in one of the more packed districts of Waterdeep and has never left the city of splendors in her near century of life. Her parents, Gilrael and Zalyira, were a misnomer when compared to other families of elves, with 9 children they were the largest family in their neighborhood. With 5 of her siblings fully mature and traveling away from Waterdeep before she was born, Zyllyyn was an odd middle child as her triplet sisters were born only a few years after her, and the expectation was for her to act as an older and wiser sister. She never grew up to know them however, as shortly after her 10th birthday, her parents and sisters were caught up in a mysterious accident that left them and many other people from her neighborhood dead. Her mostly happy childhood with a large collection of friends came crashing down and left her a homeless orphan.
In the first few months after the tragedy she sought help from others she knew from around her home, but always found a cold shoulder as if she was blamed for something. With nowhere else to go she was eventually picked up by an orphanage and brought in to cleaned up and given shelter. What she found was betrayal, as the priestesses that ran the orphanage put on a smiling face initially and in front of visitors, but would turn cruel and violent with her and the other orphans. The abuse lasted a few years before she found an odd friend in an older gnome who always seemed to have some shiny trinket on hand. She spent more and more time away from the orphanage and in the streets with this gnome, Snaffle Knizzlepop, and other street urchins who followed him around. He would ask them to do little tasks here and there, and slip them a bauble or coin as payment. Zyllyyn took to this naturally, and he showed her the tricks of the trade, as she discovered he was actually a well known thief in the ward, The Gear Burglar.
Long gone from the orphanage, Zyllyyn spent years roaming the streets applying the tricks learned from Snaffle and making enough coin to eat and have shelter. A chance bit of information clued her in on the fact that the same priestesses that cared for her and others were not charged with crimes after a recent set of accusations were brought against them. While angered by this she didn't know what she could do to set things right, when an off hand comment of a nearby tavern patron saying the priestesses would make things better if they were dead led her to the conclusion that she could provide such a service. After leaving the orphanage and making the first, second, and third kills of her career, she set out to not only make things right based on her own sense of justice, but to make some money with those skills.
Now, after 60 years of perfecting her craft, she is ready for more. Her connections on the street to gain information, such as the crazy old Sebastian, and with prominent players in the Zhentarim, will help in taking that next step.
Tuck remembers nothing before living on the streets with his brother. What happened to their parents, how they ended up on the streets, their family name..... He remembers none of it. He and his brother lived on the streets for years with his older brother looking out for him and protecting him. they begged for scraps and the odd copper piece. One day his brother made the mistake of approaching the prince on the street to beg for a coin. The prince simply stabbed the nuisance through the heart in front of Tuck's eyes. Being the prince he could kill a common street urchin in the street without even a reprimanding word, much less any repercussions. Tuck could not do anything at the time, but did retrieve the poor quality small knife from his brothers possession.
Tuck spent the next years of his life learning to survive on the streets. Learning various skills of thieves. He will only steal up though. Never from those in low fortune themselves, and not enough to cause much hardship. While still looking out for other street kids and orphans and those in need. He enjoys the finer things he can afford from his ill gotten gains. Drinking and carousing. His fun loving nature hides his dark past and feelings.
His goals are to become a master thief and accumulate a fortune. However his greatest goal is revenge upon the prince, who is now the king of the land. Right now these are minor and secretive acts against the king and the realm. In the long term these will become greater, hoping eventually stripping him of his fortune and other ways to make him miserable, before finally attacking him head on, to one day drive his brothers knife into the kings heart.
Malvedar the Dragonborn wizard was born in the clan lands of Zir. In childhood, his love of magic was started when he found a dead wizard in the clan territory, and picked up the man's book. He spent the following years studying at the Great Library of Ziris, where he befriended the fellow Dragonborn Drookiranor Rakbaran. This was seen as a sign for future friendship between the Orkomion and Drookiranor clans. As a further sign of friendship, Malvedar was given the offspring of the Drookiranor clan's Pseudo-dragon mascot, which he named Orkomia. Despite their great friendship (some say lovers, though that is not true, since Malvedar is aromantic and asexual), they were in great disagreement on dragons. Rakbaran considered them dangerous and gruesome, due to their enslavement of the Dragonborn in the ancient past (did I mention this was a homebrew world?), while Malvedar forgave them for that crime, and thought there was much to be learned form them, though he did not want to submit to them.
One of their arguments grew far out of proportion, and by morning, Rakbaran lay dead. Orkomia left Malvedar in disgust, and he was so ravaged by grief that he wandered out in the desert to die. He was prevented from committing suicide by Orkomia, who returned to him and held back his hand. He left Zir, and went to wander the world, hoping to settle somewhere, and one day forgive himself.
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"What do you mean I get disadvantage on persuasion?"
I don't know, Sneet, maybe because your argument is "Submit and become our pet"?
His name was Syrran. Syrran Na-Lae, third son of Tokuji Na-Lae. Noble born and bred, he had everything he wanted. Honour, fame, glory, women, wealth. The island peninsula of Myirian-Vaskat was at peace for the first time in generations, all thanks to the efforts of Tokuji Na-Lae and his sons, Kensuke, Tadaori, Syrran and Toruki. It had not always been this way of course.
The Seron people, similar to humans in some ways, to elves in others and to Orcs in still others, are not a peaceful people. It was rumoured, among the learned, that in the misty past, the Sorcererous Council had simply cut the Myrian peninsula off from the mainland and pushed it into the ocean so that they wouldn’t have had to deal with the proud four eyed people. Another rumour was that the Serons had used their own mages to split their island off from the mainland so as not to have to bow their necks to the Sorcererous Council’s interference in their ancient culture. None know for certain now, for the Seron jealously guard the few libraries that still remain.
Still, what is known is enough. Syrran and his brothers were born onto an island peninsula engulfed in warfare between rival clans. The arch-warlord, the Warmaster of Myrian, had died and left no heir and so the clans warred for possession and control of the capital city, and when the capital city was destroyed, they fought for the farms. Tokuji Na-Lae watched this happen and knew it was not sustainable and so he gathered his clan up and, through a torturous web of alliances and betrayal, created a force that would not be withstood… using this force, he crushed all who stood in his way, with a mix of wily tactics, guile, and absolute ruthlessness. It took ten years of war, but the land was finally at peace for the first time in centuries.
Syrran naturally learned to fight as soon as he could walk, immersed in the martial culture of the Serons and trained with sword, horse and bow, however unlike his brothers, all of whom had their minds turned upon home, and the spoils of their conquest, Syrran’s eyes were turned heavenward, for among the ruins of the capital, Syrran found a temple consecrated to the Silent One, the Seron god of knowledge and civilization. Amid the rack and ruin, amid the sacked city, this temple remained standing and well tended, and when Syrran approached, his breastplate black with spilt blood, sword still in hand, he found his advance checked by a young monk with a staff. Though the monk was little more than a boy, barely into his manhood and no match for the seasoned campaigner before him, he was still willing to die in defence of his faith. Such devotion was admirable, and left a lasting impression upon Syrran.
However other things left a lasting impression upon the Seron warlord. As the dust settled, the Seron started to travel the peninsula, to see how he could aid the land coming back to its feet. He found a land drowning in devastation, mired in blood and sorrow. Here, he took his first steps from the pre-ordained path of the Seron noble. He enlisted with the houses of healing, exchanging his sword and banner for the mask and robe of the healers orders. As he aided the healing of others’ bodies, the damage to his mind started to manifest, become more vivid and apparent. The dreams and images of cities put to the sword. Of men killed. Such things left the Seron with more questions than answers, questions that required answers. He wandered from the houses of healing and travelled the peninsula once again, seeking knowledge and understanding. Eventually, he came back to the capital, to the Silent God’s temple, to the young monk that had taught Syrran the strength of determination.
Three years after the war was over, Syrran joined the order of the Cwher-Gamn’Alte, the elusive and secretive knightly order in service to the Silent God. who made it their mission to learn, and to spread Seron civilization to the continent. He rose rapidly through the ranks, eschewing his noble birth for his newfound place of belonging, and soon he was sent across the sea to the main continent, with orders to learn and report, to discover how iron-shod the Sorcerous Council’s grip on power was…
There were other reasons for him to go overseas of course. One of these was a certain question that was being asked. A certain relationship developing between Syrran and one of his scribes that perhaps could do with being kept under wraps. The hope being that proverb about absence making the heart go fonder could turn out to be wrong.
Thusly, Syrran found himself upon the adventurer’s trail with little more than a pack, his father’s blessing, and an idea.
Eh, I'll provide a story for an elven-cleric character that unfortunately I never got to use much.
Dathyra was the second of seven children in her family, and the eldest daughter. Honestly, there was very little remarkable about her childhood. She grew up like any other elf living deep in High Forrest. She helped her parents and her siblings wherever she could, and pretty much had a typical life.
Around the time she reached her mid 80's, disaster struck. Raiders struck her village, burning and killing all who were caught in their sights. Carrying her youngest sister in tow, Dathyra was barely able to escape the chaos. Two of her brothers, her older brother Vaquen included, and her mother also escaped the blaze. The same could not be said of her father and her three other siblings. And even then, there was no guarantee they would all survive. Within that first night after their escape, her brother, Rael, died from his injuries, and there mother was too seriously injured and sick to walk. Vaquen took the lead, and did everything in his power to keep what remained of their family intact. Dathyra assumed a more maternal role towards her sister and saw to her care.
For several weeks, the remaining refugees from the raids trekked across the forest, trying to find any help at all. Food was growing scarce, and several times, Dathyra and Vaquen had to go without just to see to it that their sister and mother were cared for. But, fortune eventually smiled on them when they reached Sundabar and found the small temple to Lathander there. Its devotees welcomed the elven survivors with open arms and saw to their needs. After a few days of recovery, the head abbot, Father Uridan offered the elves total refuge in the temple, provided they convert and become followers of Lathander themselves. Having seen the healers take care of their mother, who was still very weak from the ordeal, and having nowhere else to go, Dathyra and her siblings readily accepted. Since then, Dathyra has been a devoted member of the temple and honestly believes Lathander had more sympathy for their plight than their old gods.
Adapting to temple life came with other challenges. Many of the elven followers were expected to assimilate to human culture. Some were able to adapt easier than others, Dathyra among them. However, that's come with its own issues. Dathyra remains conflicted about who she is and where she belongs. On the one hand, the temple has been her home for many years after the raid. Father Uridan has become a second father to her, and she couldn't imagine life without her human friends. On the other, her mother insists that Dathyra and her siblings have lost their way and forgotten their elven culture. They no longer seem to remember all the names of their old gods, rarely speak in their old tongue, and do not observe tradition. Dathyra is torn between these two worlds and doesn't know what to do. She wishes she could just be accepted as she is: as both elf and part of human culture.
And unfortunately, tragedy was not done with Dathyra. Only ten years after settling into the temple, and other issues arose. Marriage was not really a strong concept among the elves. With over 700 years in their lifespans, they didn't see a strong need to stay with one person for so long. The longest relationship any elf has is with the partner they choose to raise children with, and even then, no official ceremonies existed in their culture for such occasions. Therefore, in elven customs, it shouldn't have been a big deal when Dathyra found herself pregnant by one of her elven friends. However, Father Uridan insisted that children conceived outside of the bounds of marriage were a blight and an insult to Lathander. She therefore tried to conceal her secret for as long as possible. That, of course, did not work out and Father Uridan learned the truth. While disappointed, he accepted that whatever decisions that would have to be made would have to happen when her child was born.
Thrilled that there may be a possibility that she would get to keep her child, Dathyra prepared for the prospect of motherhood. That was sadly not to be. By that winter, something terrible, yet unexplainable happened. Still far away from giving birth, she found herself incredibly sick and given to the care of the best healers in the temple. The child, her son, still far to small to survive, did not make it, but surprisingly Dathyra did. Unsure what to do, the healers quickly rushed to save her. It took months for Dathyra to recover, and occasionally, she still does feel weak spells, but physically, she made it. However, she is constantly reminded of this horrible event with the scar she still bares. Father Uridan convinced her that this was her punishment for conceiving a child out of wedlock. He even sent away the man who had fathered the child, hoping that Dathyra would no longer be "distracted."
Twenty years had passed since that day, and Dathyra has still not forgiven herself for this sin. In an effort to redeem herself, she had volunteered to go on a charity mission to help do good about the realm. This decision was welcomed by her mother, who felt she needed time to explore as part of elven culture. Father Uridan expressed approval at the choice, but still worries about her safety and sent her well armed. Vaquen worries greatly for his sister and hopes that she returns soon.
True, forgiveness is what she seeks, but above all else, all Dathyra wants is a sense of home and family. She wants to feel safe and loved somewhere. After having lost her home and her family (twice really), she needs a group of people who can make her feel like she is home where she belongs.
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Lvl 2 - Dathyra Galanodel - High Elf Cleric of the Life Domain - Platinum Plated Keys
Lvl 5 - Dathyra Galanodel - High Elf Cleric of the Life Domain - Hunted
Rat Catcher / Food Vendor - CN Ranger (Based on a true photograph)
“Fresh meat on a stick here! Getcha fresh meat lollipops here! One copper for 2! One fer you an one for the one you love! Meat Lollies, two for one coppa ere!”
"Everyone gots ta eat, right? Times is tough these days. If they wants to know what it is, I tells em. It’s fresh delicious Rat meat. Some care, but most don’t. Me prices are good and it is some good, Mmm Mmm eatin! See, I catches em me self every day, it’s me job. No one can catch a rat better than me in this city! Everyone comes ta me in this city. Bakers, cooks, markets, hospitals, clergy, nobles an kings! When they has a rat problem, um the one they call. An then I turn their problem into profit by cookin em up and sellin em on the street. Cha-Ching!"
"I’ve been living on the streets for as long as I members. When the orphanage kicked a bunch of us out sayin we could fend for ourselves, us kids would stay safe from the hustle and bustle by living in the sewers. Under the city, it was a quiet and safe home once you got past the dirt and smell. And plenty of rats to eat once you knew where they were and how to catch em. Over time, I got to knowin the sewers like the back of me hand. Even better than any of the thieves guilds or city workers maintaining them. An if interested, me knows all the secret ways to get in and out of anywheres in this city, for a price of course."
"You look like a bunch of fellas that could use a smart guide like me in this town! I could tell you are not from around here and this is a rather unsavory neighborhood. I could show you around and help if you need to look for someone or something. Hire me an I’ll even throw in 2 meat sticks for each one of ya! Whatcha think of that?
My DM is running a new short-term campaign soon surrounding a strange arctic village, so I've got a new Rogue to play! She's an aarakocra Inquisitive Rogue.
Iren has been searching. Searching a very long time.
She learned the trade from her parents. Her um and ab (mother and father) were both interested in aspects of questions. Her um was a crown officer, responsible for dissecting remains of suspicious deaths and determining their causes. Often she worked on the sick, seeking clues to the plagues that ravaged cities whole. Her ab was a questioner of another sort, a man who made his living watching others, and noticing secrets. Both taught her that there were answers hidden in places not many thought to look -- but they were always there. And so, she always asked questions, just as they did.
As Iren blossomed, so did her mind. She became well known for her natural aptitude for puzzle solving, and it wasn’t long before she was presented with a problem from a strange man. It was a murder mystery. It took her days of extensive research and work-- But eventually she returned to the man with a solution. He merely nodded, placing her work into a folder, and began to leave. She asked him if she was right… He did not answer.
But the man returned. He brought her a new mystery. One that involved stolen jewels. Once more she gave her weeks to the project, researching avenues on her own and using every resource at her disposal. She returned to the man with her answer, and he did the same as before, leaving without telling her right or wrong.
And the man returned again, and again, and again-- He returned until her parents did not.
Iren’s um and ab were in the far north, called to investigate a question of great secrecy. They promised their return in months, however a parcel arrived in their place. Within it: Her mother’s kila, and her father’s jambiya-- Objects she knew they would never part with. The parcel had no returning address.
The man soon returned one last time. He introduced himself this time as the Mullah from a larger city a day’s travel from the village. The same Mullah her um and ab had worked for.
The Mullah offered her a home, room and board, and a job as a consultant on cases of extreme question. Having nothing else, no right to her home; no family seeming to return; no true possessions or knowledge of survival; Iren accepted.
Over the next eight years, she became adept in her work, and learned that she had solved many cases before being hired. Those puzzles had, in truth, been reality. The Mullah had not credited her on her past work, and he still rarely did, but he did reward her for the answers she provided, and Iren knew that she would have nothing without him, so she accepted what she received.
Her life seemed in order, though she never lost interest in investigating her um and ab’s disappearance. She would work in her spare time, asking the questions and finding the clues she could manage. One day, she received a letter. The battered old parchment merely said “North”, and contained a cutting out of an old file.
The file read a list of names -- including her um and ab’s -- and claimed that all listed had died in an avalanche. Bodies and possessions went unrecovered. The event was to go unremembered. Iren was left with an entirely new world of questions, and only one answer worth following:
Ann of House Sierra, the Tiefling Evoker Wizard (first character, death induced retirement)
I was born into the small but wealthy and influential noble house of Sierra in Asileon. My mother cared little for my appearance and loved me unconditionally. My father, while a fervent bigot towards non-humans, was also blind as a bat and thus oblivious of my true appearance as my mother never told him he fathered a Tiefling. Any attempts from others to inform him about me were cast aside as lies and attempts to besmirch our family name. Because of this I was raised away from the hardships most Tieflings experienced.
As time passed and I grew up I made friends who did not care for the blood running through my veins. I had shown to many that despite appearances, in my heart I was human. Raised human, by humans, around humans. I never learned the Infernal tongue, and although I was adapt at learning all kinds of magics, I never used it to burn a person's house down, people tend to appreciated that.
The amount of people that accepted me as an equal slowly grew. The number of attempts to slander my family's name through me declined within our community as people started to see the futility of dealing with my father, and recognize that I wanted little to do with whatever hellish forces were responsible for bringing the Tieflings into existence. I was accepted into a school where I could get a formal education and I was even approached by universities.
throughout my life I have always felt the scales of fortune tipping in my favor. Born into nobility to a blind and stubborn bigot and a mother who loved me regardless. Falling trees just barely missing me. Ice holding my weight just long enough to get across before breaking. Games of chance between me and my friends seemingly always going my way. I have started to think there might be some truth behind the stories my mother used to tell me about Tymora, the goddess of good fortune, a deity our household has apparently held in high regard for generations.
Now, as an adult, I have capitalized on many of the opportunities most Tieflings wouldn't dare dream of. I work as a graduate research assistant under Professor Wellington and have grown into quite the capable wizard if I may say so myself. I still keep in touch and visit my parents as I would never have gotten this far without them. But it is time I forge my own legacy, time to earn the right to call myself a Sierra.
Atros Cel'm Kes, the High Elf Cavalier Fighter (Currently playing)
I had always been different, always bigger and stronger than others my age. on field trips I'd wake up with a shaved head and the telltale markings of a Goliath on my face. It was their way of bullying me, Goliath's were considered dumb brutes so resembling one did not exactly work in my favor. These "pranks" were beaten down on but that didn't always stop many of my peers.
On my 120th summer my formal military training was complete and my classmates and I set out in search of what many called "internship", a 20 year period where we'd hone our skills and learn new things from outside sources. Some went in search of dwarven or human towns to ask for training. I however decided to embrace the stigma I had been confronted with for the majority of my life. Goliaths were considered dumb by more civilized races but no sane man would question their strength and fighting prowess. So I traveled to a known Goliath herd in the nearby *insert name* mountain range. and I begged them to train me.
After months of convincing and proving my worth they finally took me in as a temporary herd member. For many summers and winters I trained, hunted, survived, and fought alongside them until they decided they had taught me everything. It wasn't all hardship, I participated in their celebrations and made friends among them, I was accepted as an honorary member, I almost didn't want to leave. One day I figured my "friends" back home could not use my appearance against me if I embraced it, with the blessing of the herd I shaved my head and got the iconic Goliath markings permanently tattooed on my skin. If it wasn't for the color of my skin I could easily be mistaken for a small Goliath.
On my return after 20 years I entered the 'Eidarar', a test in the form of a kind of competition to find a suitable position in the military for all who had finished their internship. Thanks to the brutal training I went through and my superior physical form I left my "friends" in the dust and qualified for the job of Royal Guard. I of course started out at the bottom, guarding gates and hallways, but throughout the years I kept proving myself and I rose to the rank of guard commander, and by extension I served as the personal guard of Eliza, Queen of Flora.
I was good at my job, any who'd wish harm on my queen would leave in chains or pieces, and for the 200 years I served as my queen's personal guard many had indeed done so. But I could not be everywhere, see everything, and not every threat could be fought with a blade. A lesson that was taught to me when one morning I discovered my queen in her chambers, poisoned. No one blamed me but me, I swore to Eliza's daughter and successor, Michelle, that I would find whoever was responsible. And after some changes and improvements to the guard I set out to do just that, I will find the killer, and they will answer for their crimes.
J'Zargo, the Lizardfolk Beastmaster ranger (next in line if Atros dies or retires)
J'zargo is Lizardfolk, he hails from a place called... Abra door? Nice swamps and lots of meat.
J'zargo's tribe was visited by a tiny man and a big green toothy man. The man told J'zargo his name but it was too long for J'zargo so he called him Tiny man, the tiny man did not seem to mind. The big toothy man was a "bodyguard" and did the frowny face when J'zargo called him Green man, but he did not give J'zargo something else to call him. Tiny man said he was from a place called More Light? said he was a "Scholar" or something. He wanted a guide that could show him around all the ruins in the swamp. J'zargo was the tribes hunter so he knew most about the swamp.
They visited many ruins and temples, always Tiny man did the sad face when we got there, said it was not what he was looking for. Tiny man taught J'zargo many things whenever they set up camp. He taught J'zargo how to read and speak something called "Gnomish" and "Orcish", J'zargo did not know what good this skill would do him in the swamp but the Tiny man seemed to find pleasure in teaching J'zargo so he listened. One day Tiny man did the happy jumping when J'zargo found another temple, J'zargo didn't understand. His kin did not like this temple, it put the scales up straight. Reaching the Altar Tiny man started reading from a book, J'zargo did not recognised the language at first, but it was a bad language, one that burned J'zargo's ears when he heard it (Infernal). Green man did the smiling for the first time.
When Tiny man finished reading a large window opened in the air and a big fearsome looking thing came out and ran outside. J'zargo did not think this was what Tiny man expected, but before J'zargo could ask him Green man stabbed Tiny man. J'zargo did not understand this Fleshy custom but apparently Green man wanted J'zargo to join. He stabbed J'zargo in the eye and hurt him so J'zargo had to kill him. J'zargo made an arrow basket from Tiny Gnome man and took Green man's glowing bow. They were good meat but J'zargo felt like he was forgetting something.
J'zargo's tribe was gone, the big mean thing destroyed it and killed all his kin. J'zargo felt something for the first time.. J'zargo felt guilt, J'zargo helped this happen, so J'zargo had to make it right again, he traveled to More light to join Arms Viv and Tum because Tiny man told him they killed the big things. maybe they will help J'zargo kill the big thing that killed his tribe.
Aldrick Hargrave, the Fallen Aasimar Hexblade warlock (future character, no rush)
Born into a noble family in Haldor's Rock I lived a life of luxury for the first few years of my life. Whether my parents intended for it to happen or not, having seemingly been blessed by the gods through me led to people treating our family differently, better. My parents accumulated a significant amount of political influence in the city. An influence that tends to draw unwanted attention. After the "unexplained and mysterious" death of my parents I was sent to live with my aunt in Moorlight, who held a position of power in the council there. She seemed nice for a long time and made me feel welcome. However, unbeknownst to the outside world my Aunt had a darker side her. The "I'm secretly part of a cult" kind of darker side.
As I grew older she would routinely leave me to stay with this creepy elf for a few days, he gave me the creeps and tried to sell his dumb beliefs to me. I knew I shouldn't trust him but the books and tomes he would show me did have this strange attraction to them, I could feel the urge to read them creep up on me. Whenever they did I would hear a voice in the back of my head, it would encourage me to resist the temptation, and so I did. This charade would last for a few years but I always stood by my beliefs and denied him the satisfaction of "corrupting" me. Until they doubled their efforts however.
It was only a couple months ago when my aunt invited the elf up to our house, a bunch of women showed up as well, I recognized some of their faces from noble gatherings in the city. I just wanted to stay in my room until whatever it was they were doing was done and they'd leave our house, but they apparently had other plans. A bunch of the women stormed into my room and dragged me downstairs where my aunt and the Elf had prepared some sinister looking ritual. While they tied me down I could hear the Elf talk about using my Celestial blood for preparations for the purge or something. Despite my efforts there wasn't much I could do as whatever ritual they performed took place, All the shadows and dark spirits flying around made me wonder how my aunt could have ever thought that what she was doing was a mission of a benevolent god. All I could feel was demonic and fiendish power flowing through me. And as I felt some dark force take root in my soul I could at the same time feel my connection to the divine deity that gave me strength snap like a string.
Whatever ritual they performed had ended, and as a result I was cursed, tainted, fallen from grace. And even after a group of adventures had stopped the Purge and killed my aunt and the Elf I could still feel the power I was given. Now I must find a way to restore my connection to my divine progenitor, perhaps my curse will help me with this, or it will stand in my way. But I can feel it becoming more and more a part of me with every passing day, perhaps by the end of this I don't even want to get rid of it, and I might find a balance between light and dark. Only time will tell.
After much back and forth, scrapping and starting over I finally came up with a character backstory for Maliira, my Fallen Aasimar Warlock (Hexblade).
Maliira was born of 2 human parents, the celestial heritage was so dormant it was forgotten. In their ignorance they believed the child was cursed, and so they secretly left the child deep in the woods to die. She was found by a member of the Cult of a lesser known Daemoness, Shaliah. They were lovers of decadence and violence and Maliira, because of her strange beauty, became their most prized possession. Maliira grew up surrounded by sadistic torture and overindulgence but she herself was merely an observer. she envied the warriors and assassins that worked for them, craving adventure and bloodshed.
One night Maliira begins having dreams and hearing a voice, calling to her, like a mother's lullaby. she follows the voice into hidden chambers of the temple/castle. There she finds a cleaver wrapped in bandages covered in fresh blood, at the end of the hilt a round blood red jewel that swirled like blood. Compulsively Maliira touches the weapon and a jolt on energy shoots through her and and a pain flow through her veins she hears a voice, matronly and gentle "You are mine now my child. You do not need this “family” anymore. Your destiny is far greater. It is time for you to live life deliciously but you must break out of your cage.” The moments that came after Maliira does not fully remember, just the sound a screams, the smell of blood and a warm embrace around her.
When she awakes from her trance there is nothing left of her “home” but bodies and destruction. There was no sadness or longing. Maliira felt... free. And powerful. Taking pieces of the armor worn by the warriors she once envied, and scavenging whatever wasn't destroyed completely, she set off to discover the world and the adventures it held, humming gently as she kicked bodies out of her way.
It's relatively short but I wanted it to be kind opened ended and have holes that can be filled as the journey unfolds.
I've been working on this character for quite some time now, and I am very proud of it.
Presenting... Janti Krimh the Hexblade Bard of Mephistopheles, and a humanoid rights activist
Long before the great Spell Plague of 1385 DR and the death of the Goddess Mystra, a man named D'mir Krimh was born to a lonely couple. He grew up and set out to journey to the coast, for it was his dream to see the ocean. He traveled to the coastal town of Beloma and made a life. He settled in a small clay-brick cottage and wrote stories from his imagination. Some of them were wild, with tales of planets and flying ships, others somber with the death of gods and rise of demons. He comfortably sat in his house until his days were near the end. Then the Spell Plague began. The ground started shaking and beasts long forgotten rose from the depths of the ocean and the earth. The humble sea town was almost destroyed in the following days, but as the crisis slowed down, the town rebuilt. Of the 137 citizens, only 22 were left.
They rebuilt the town better than before, with help from the traveling Archmage Auxil Whilmyre. The town continued to thrive as the population rose back to its normal, but one day, D'mir was sitting on his porch, writing a new story about a war between interplanetary creatures called the Grithe, when he heard a wailing cry. He discovered a small baby, with skin the color of a plum and eyes as frigid as the snow-covered mountains to the east. D'mir took the baby and her small green wrappings to his home and he fed her, and nursed her until the day he died. He named her Janti, after the town elder who had so bravely protected their village, dying to the hand of a giant. Janti grew up to be a tall and able young woman, and lived with her adopted father until he died in the year 1408 DR, the year of the Black Hand. She lived on the streets of Beloma for many years, but decided that wasn't the life for her.
Janti worked her way south to get to the City of Splendors, trying to figure out where she came from, while trying to make a new life for herself. She acquired a hat of disguise, and joined Captain Zardoz Zord's circus, pretending to be an middle aged woman named Fiorli G'milas and worked as a singer. As time went on, she learned how to weave magic in her voice and entrance all of the people who watched. Life was finally what she wanted it to be, until she came across a discarded ornate box on the side of the street. It was a beautiful box, ornately carved out of the finest wood, with pieces of blue velvet and gold filigree delicately styled to look like leaves. Janti picked up the box, wondering why someone would leave an expensive box on the side of the road. The moment she touched the box, a jolt shook her, and she stumbled back. The quickly retrieved the box and sauntered back to her small apartment in the south end of the city. Laying on her bed, she marveled at the box's beauty, but one thing was wrong. the box wouldn't open. It's seemingly delicate clasp was stuck shut. For days on end, Janti went to every metal smith in the city, even spending some of her life savings to journey to the Purple Rock islands to see if anyone could help her. No one could. Janti retreated home one day after her job at the circus. The box she had left on her bed was sitting there, a key in the slot. Janti sat down, confused by the sudden appearance of the key and opened the box.
Inside the box was a small blue orb, In the center floated a green gemstone, perfectly round, not a single flaw. She delicately picked up the orb, and in that moment, she saw. She saw horrible despicable things, her mind shrank away, but was pulled back, forced to watch terrible, despicable things. Then it all stopped. Janti opened her eyes and she was floating in a void, looking out into the endless horizon. Rising up from the endless black void below, man dressed in finery with crimson robes appeared. He looked and Janti and said, "I know who you are, Janti. You are my successes, my one heir, for I am Mephistopheles, archdevil of one of the nine. I can give you powers you will only dream of." Janti didn't know what to say. This was her true father? An archdevil? Not knowing what to do, Janti, accepted his offer, and that same feeling that had haunted her so many years ago came back. She opened her eyes that she didn't know were closed, and looked at the orb. The gemstone in the center had turned blood red, and she felt stronger and more powerful than before.
The next day, she quit the circus, and revealed her true identity to her superiors. They threw her out, stole her possessions, and beat her close to death. She woke up outside of Waterdeep, a bloody mess. Before her eyes, her wounds closed and she felt the orb in her satchel pulsating. She walked on, away from the prejudice and violence in the city she thought so wonderful. The day became dusk and the dusk moved on to night, and the forest was dark and mysterious. Janti soon became lost. She looked around trying to find an exit, but whenever she looked away, the path would close. She started backing up, slowly, as first, then almost running backwards, she bumped into something. She turned around and so did the creature. The stranger kept on its gray hood and drew a flaming blade. Janti summoned a swirling ball of acid in her hand and she prepared to fight. All of a sudden, the stranger's hood was whipped off. He stood before her, a angelic figure, and as silly as it seemed, it was love at first sight. Janti dispersed her ball of acid, and the glowing man put away his sword. They walked up to each other, wondering who the other was. After an unbearable silence, Janti spoke up. "Who are you?" she asked the man. "I am Marvolus Flymtor. Who are you?" She replied sheepishly, "I'm Janti Krimh." There was another moment of silence. Marvolus spoke up, "Do you know the way out of here?" and chuckled. Janti laughed as well, and shook her head. Marvolus started walking, slashing shrubbery with his flaming sword until they were out of the forest. There was another awkward bit of silence when Janti asked, "I'm going exploring. Want to join me?" He replied, "Sure, why not?" The two walked away, just as the sun started to rise.
In the years that passed many things happened. Janti and Marvolus' party grew. They even had a child who they named Biln Flymh. As the years went on, the two co-founded an organization called The Order of Redemptius, an adventuring group of humanoids, working together to prove to the other races that they are people too. Janti and Marvolus met with many leaders. King P'flin'as of the Chultian Tabaxi tribe, to name one. All discriminated races were welcome. Aarakocra, Aasimar, Firbolgs, Dragonborn, Goliaths, Kenku, Lizardfolk, Tabaxi, Tieflings, Tritons, Genasi, and many more. The organization spread across the land and even now has an outpost in Waterdeep. Janti joins any adventuring party who will accept her and her ideals, and gains reputation and treasure to fund her organization. Although she was an astounding activist, she made many enemies during her time in the field. After a close skrimish with a necromancer, the tip of her left horn was cut off. Janti now wanders the land, adventuring, but making sure to be home every tenday to spend time with her husband and son.
The story of Daniel is a simple one. He was abandoned as baby and was found by monk who lived in a nearby temple. For the next 12 years Daniel was taught the ways of the monk. Despite Daniel’s age, he became incredible fighter who had immense strength.Even though he was skilled, the boy was shy to the other people especially to the girls. Anytime he see a girl or one of them tries talks to Daniel he would freeze in an instant and run away blushing. His master Zhen Li was the only girl he could talk too normally without freeze up strange isn't. Despite being love by his master and the other monks, Daniel was curious about the world and dreams about going adventures. He asked his master many times if he set off but every time his master would always say "You are not ready my child, you are strong and skilled but you are naive and too trusting, the world is a dangerous place filled with temptations and sinister creatures". Daniel was heart broken but he respected his master wishes. However fortune soon came to chance when his Master was summon help with an old friend and his master asked the young boy if he wanted to come. Daniel did a 10 foot jump of joy when his master asked him and of course he said yes! Now the young boy with Master sets on a journey he will never forget.
Daniel is a 12 year old human boy and is class is a monk. He has milk chocolate hair and sapphire eyes, he also has a large scar on his cheek which he git from a training accident. He is average height and weight of any twelve year old boy and has fair skin. He loves listening to stories of adventures and heroic tales. He has a shy personality and is quite nervous about meeting other people. He is very shy girls and runs away from them only his master Zhen Li he can truly talk too. He loves sheep to death and if anyone dares hurts them he will go into rage. He loves eating fish too.His ideals are to strive for peace and justice. He is a neutral good character
Introducing my Triton rogue/sorcerer noble, Damos Unollath
The youngest son of an esteemed noble Triton house, Damos grew up in privilege. Servants saw to his and his five elder siblings’ (three brothers, two sisters) every need. His father, Corus, was a well-regarded general, and his mother, Shalryn, was a respected member of the ruling council. His two eldest brothers, twins Molos and Khovas, and one of his sisters, Aslyn, followed their father into the military, and his other brother, Varas, and other sister, Marlyn, joined their mother in politics. Damos adored his mother, respected his father, and of all his siblings, he was closest to his brother Khovas and his sister Marlyn.
Whether they liked it or not, Corus saw to it that his children were well-trained in the art of fighting, and Shalryn made sure they all had proper training in political, ethical, and moral issues. It quickly became apparent that although he was not the strongest, Damos was quick, both physically and mentally. No matter how hard his father pushed him, Damos clearly disliked physical confrontation, instead choosing to outwit his opponents using his wits.
One day, while training, Corus pushed a little too hard. The opponent he chose for Damos greatly outclassed him, and Corus had instructed him to not hold back. At first, Damos avoided the brunt of the blows, but he made a mistake, taking the full force of an attack, knocking him down. Corus angrily ordered his opponent to continue the attack, and a flurry of blows rained down on the young Triton. Suddenly, something snapped within Damos, and he felt power flow through his body. Wild magic surged out from him, knocking everyone watching the fight prone. Terrified, Damos fled from the city, wandering the ocean floor until Khovas found him and brought him home.
Things became strained with his father, who detested magic users, but was ordered by higher-ups to find a way to use Damos’ unique blend of skills, possibly as a spy or assassin. It was unknown what the source of Damos’ power was, but Corus forbid him from exploring it more than was necessary. Shalryn was against her son being used as a weapon, preferring to find a more diplomatic approach, and things soon grew tense in the household. Damos took to keeping to himself, unless he was required to join his father’s units on a mission. He disliked the work intensely, but he wanted more than anything for his father to be proud of him and accept him, so he held his tongue and did as he was told. When he was able to wander the ocean alone, he experimented with his powers, curious as to where they came from, and thrilling at the possibilities they unlocked.
Life continued this way for Damos for some time, until things unexpectedly took a tragic turn. One day during a meeting of the full council, a terrorist attack took the lives of his mother and his brother Varas. The lone attacker released a deadly poison into the council chambers, and through magical means kept it from spreading to the surrounding area. Though the attacker was a Triton woman, the poison she used was not one familiar to the underwater dwellers, meaning it could only have come from the surface. The Triton kingdom was on good terms with the surface realms, so there was no clue as to the identity of those responsible.
The family was devastated, Damos especially. He raged through the uninhabited parts of the surrounding area, his magic surging wildly from him, causing great swaths of devastation. His anger spent, he collapsed into a sobbing heap. When he pulled himself together, he went to his father, and asked that he be the one to go to the surface to discover the source of the attack. His speed, stealth, and especially his magical abilities might be the best combination to discover the villain behind this plot. Corus initially refused, not wanting Damos to reveal too much about himself and potentially bring harm to the family name, but Damos was unrelenting, and Corus eventually gave in. It was decided that Damos would go to the surface world, using the cover of going as an ambassador to strengthen ties between the sea kingdom and those on the surface.
So Damos set out, with only a single companion, who acted as servant and bodyguard. He quickly established an identity as a noble, if foppish, ambassador on a goodwill tour. He easily insinuated himself into the highest circles of society, using his position to move fluidly among the elite, attempting to ferret out information on who would want to destabilize the relationship between the land and sea kingdoms, all the while hiding his true abilities. He was charming and outgoing in public, but in private he remained cold and stoic, preparing for the day when he could face the ones responsible from killing his mother and brother, and removing one of the few bright spots from his life.
Baryn Helfyr was born of a dubious and mostly unexplained conception to a barren Elven recluse, misfortune follows Baryn like his own shadow.
His mother left him on a stoop shortly after birth. The village knew where he came from only by the blanket bundled around him, the recluse in town was a skilled weaver, if mad. The Elders tried to find his mother to return him but the pathway to her hut, the garden outside the door, the door, and the rest of the house had vanished in the night.
With nothing left to do but cast him out into the elements or raise him; they gave him to a couple who had just had a child of their own: The Fullers.
Even his name is a play on the tragedy that was his early life: a his name is a mockery of all that he is. "Barren Half-Ear" un-so-subtly hints at the un-so-subtle mixture of blood in his veins, and the mystery surrounding where he came from.
As a youth he was fascinated with the natural world around him. Often forgoing his lessons for a chance to climb the largest tree in the surrounding forest. Head cocked to the side just listening to a chorus of voices just out of reach.
Something always seemed to keep him out of the books, and yet he never fell far behind the other students. He could (usually) talk his teachers into extra allowances for his studies, or even fake having done them.
When Baryn turned 12 he began noticing that sometimes when he was being teased, punched, kicked or spit on that his vision would turn red and a haze, like sand on a hot day would appear before his eyes. The locals shunned him, the boys his age his constant tormentors. His foster parents kept him as a means to a paycheck. Spending his care stipend in Amn as soon as they could. It was during one of those nights, his house was empty so he headed to the forest to climb his tree and listen that his tormentors caught sight of him and decided to waylay him. They teased and taunted him, always staying just outside of his reach in a circle, darting in to push, punch, or kick him. He felt his anger building, scalding his palms with heat. when a rock caught him on his brow and left a bloody gash he let loose a scream of frustration only to see his tormentors, the dogs nearby, and even some adults a street or so over flee in sudden overwhelming terror. Hand held to his eye to staunch the bleeding, he took himself home as fast as he could but not before the other children, their parents, and the adults who fled had already begun to get word of what had happened and decided to confront the unexplained occurance with more even fear.
They gathered around the home he shared with his foster family in the early evening light. Torches were passed around to see by as an elder approached the door.
"Come out, young Barren. There have been some troubling tales from a few or Jordi's boys, as well as Hammond and Josek. My grandchildren also tell me of the dark, twisted things you do in the forest when shirking your duties. Come peacefully and there will be no need for unpleasantness. We'll keep you till morning and then send to the Duke."
He spoke calmly, even sounding friendly and sincere but as he glanced over his shoulder to the constable; Beryn caught a glint of light on a blade tucked behind the Elder's back. With a panicked grunt he slammed the door shut and dropped the bar into its socket.
He could hear grunts and pounding from the other side and then suddenly...silence. "Light it. We'll rebuild for the Fullers. Tell them nothing, an unfortunate accident. This demon cannot be allowed to escape." He heard a soft thud on the roof, followed by 3 more. A soft hissing sound filled the air while smoke began wafting down from the thatch above.
He knew stepping outside was imprisonment, maybe even death and staying inside was certainly not a good option. Snapping out of his fear he began packing a bag. He grabbed everything of value, the coinbox hidden behind the loose hearth stone that the Fullers thought he knew nothing about. The wine skins, food, the meager collection of jewelry, a pot for cooking, flint and a striking rod, changes of clothes, and a dozen other small necessities and placed them in a travel pack before hiding the pack under a large cauldron. He was going to wet a blanket with that mornings wash water and make a run for the woods through the flames engulfing the rear of the house but just as he reached for the blanket a loud crack sounded from above a beam struck him senseless. His body dropping to the floor amidst the burning flames.
He woke to a crunch and metal on metal whine. Someone was pushing in the black, charred remnants of the door. Just as all four of the town elders, the constable, and Jorik the Blacksmith pushed into the husk of the house, he surged awake. Standing in the ruins of his life, young Beryn was clothed only in ash. A fine tracing of red scales and golden, slit pupils caught light from the morning sun. The constable gave a shout and tumbled backwards into everyone, knocking them down.
Beryn took advantage of the confusion. Grabbing the pack from under the soot and ash covered pot he rushed out the rear entrance, the burned door crumbling under his touch and disappeared into the forest.
He pops up now and again throughout Faerun. A change of inflection in his name and his past crumbled away just like his old home. Gone is Barren Half-Ear, re-birthed from the ashes is Baryn HelFyr; Red Dragon Descendant, Sorcerer, and adventurer of no renown. Just how he likes it.
Well here is my wood elf fighter-archer, his name is Vincent or Vinc for short.
Vinc has never stood out from his person or in any crowd for that matterm. He talked pretty plane, and blantent about what he had to say.
After reaching maturity he learned the art of sword and bow and without much of a notice he left his home. Vinc went to explore and try to not be as bland and UN noticed.
Astonishingly he eventually caught the eye of this loose cannon of a women. Without really wanting to fall in love the got to know each other and they did.
She was crazy, adventurose, and alcoholic. When he was with her he dident feel so bland. Soon the married and tried too settle down.
However Recently she had to much to drink one night and in a drunken hallucination vanished from their new home.
Vinc is now searching for her wile some new friends drag him of a quest.
In looking for a better reason that she would have dissaperd than being too drunk one night if anyone wants too give suggestions.
Just two things she does love Vinc, and she can handle herself in a fight assuming she has a wepon so kiddnaping is Les likely but still possible.
Malwyn was born and raised in a small orc tribe in Cloak Wood, south of Candlekeep. When she was young, she always wanted to join the older orcs on their raids on visitors to the library. Eventually, she got her wish. She was still young, even by orc standards, when the tribe came across hard times. The chieftain ordered that they should attack the monastery itself. The day Malwyn got her axe and helmet she thought would be the proudest day of her life. It didn't last. The attack was a disaster. Only a few escaped, while the rest were wiped out by the monks. After the battle, one of the monks found Malwyn under a tipped over cart, scared and hurt. The monks debated what to do with the girl, and eventually decided to take her in. The first few months were... rough. She wouldn't let anyone get close, hiding in the corner every time someone entered her room, and attacking anyone who tried. Eventually, a firbolg monk managed to reach out to her. He brought her a book about the orcish pantheon, one of the few books written in orcish, and sat down to read it aloud. Over time, they grew closer. He taught her common, how to read, and how to write. When she came of appropriate age, she was welcomed into the order as one of their own. She excelled in battle training, though she vowed off bladed weapons after an incident in which she seriously wounded an elf during a training exercise. She struggled with the more theoretical parts, however. She managed to learn dwarfish, since it uses the same alphabet as orcish, and she got a relatively okay grasp of undercommon, but her. knowledge of most subjects was average at best.
One day, a group of Vistani visited the monastery. One vistana got curious about the young orc girl, and offered to read her fortune. Before leaving, she left her with a tarokka card. 2 of glyphs, the Missionary, which carried a remarkable similarity to the young monk. She took it as a sign that she was to travel the world, and after a few months on reading up on Faerûn (most of which she forgot), she said her goodbyes to her fellow monks, and went off.
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"What do you mean I get disadvantage on persuasion?"
I don't know, Sneet, maybe because your argument is "Submit and become our pet"?
-Actual conversation in a game.
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I know it probably needs some work but here is my haunted one human monk Draven's backstory
My mother and her sisters never got along and even to a point hated each other. They placed a curse on me that was supposed to kill me. My mother passed away in childbirth when the entity they made the deal with had other plans and killed her and possessed me. My father did his best to raise me but became very ill. He asked other family members to take care of me and many turned him away until my uncle on my father's side said he would take me for a price. The next 6 years were torture as he beat me and abused me. He kept me locked away from his family and the outside world. I was lucky enough to escape.
I did what I had to to survive. One night I stumbled upon a secret fight club and felt this intense pull and need to participate. The first few fights were tough but I learned far and became a pretty good fighter and made good money with the help of a man named Bastion. He taught me everything he knew. I was lucky enough to make friends with a few other fighters that helped me not feel so alone. Hector and Robbie were my two best friends. We were almost inseparable. We ate together, spared together, drank together. If one of us got in trouble the other two were always there to help. I thought of them as my brothers.
Things were going great until one day I began to hear a voice in my head. It started out quiet but with each fight It became clearer and more angry. It was demanding more carnage and suffering with each passing fight. It would tell me things like " break them" " let them feel the pain you have suffered". I just wanted to fight. I enjoyed pushing myself.
With each passing fight it became harder and harder to focus and drown out the voice in my head. I began to feel this strong urge to destroy my opponents. Things finally became too much one night and I blacked out during a fight. I came to covered in blood and standing over the decimated corpse of my opponent. I looked around at the stunned crowd as they stood silent after seeing the carnage they just witnessed.
I ran from the incident and am determined to rid myself of this thing inside me, whatever it may be. My dreams are filled with the images of the corpse of my last opponent and other images as this voice demands an almost continuous need for carnage.
Half the fun of DnD for me is creating all kinds of characters and coming up with their personalities and backstories. I finally got to join my first homebrew campaign, the DM's own created world that is steampunk-ish and militaristic with warforged and a focus on Eldath as well. This is the character that I came up with for it, a Human Life Cleric with a Haunted One background named Matthew Willow.
Matthew was born an only child to average parents in a small town, living a simple but happy life. On his 16th birthday, he happened to be out in the large forest on the outskirts of town, picking flowers and having a picnic before making his way back home. As he walked along the path, he noticed a juicy red apple hanging from a vine and suddenly he stopped and heard a voice in his head. "Relax my boy. Come, take this fruit. You know that you want it." Matthew heard the voice suggest and it was as if he couldn't help himself, nodding before walking up to the vine and reaching out to touch the apple on the vine. Unfortunately for Matthew once he had touched the 'apple', it was too late for him. The 'vine' which was actually a serpent, lowered itself down as it wrapped all around the young boy before squeezing and constricting himself tightly. Matthew just then woke up from the illusion, realizing the situation that he is in right now as he struggles helplessly and screams for help. But there was no reply, his calls ignored as he could only hear laughter in his mind. "No one will come to your aid. I have been waiting for this day oh so long. Your pure soul belongs to me now, you are mine." the voice hissed as the snake constricts tighter and cuts off Matthew's screams by covering his mouth. He could feel himself start to choke and slowly lose consciousness, the snake unhinging its jaw above the boy's head, starting to swallow his prey whole from the head down. Matthew cried with his eyes closed, his head fully inside the snake now as he was scared for his life and didn't want to die like this. But as if by some miracle, he could hear the snake scream in pain and suddenly the snake's jaw came back up as his head was now free. There was blinding white light disintegrating the snake until it was nothing but dust, the boy completely free as he covered his eyes from such a bright light, wanting to know who saved him. The light slowly dissipates and there seems to be a woman standing there, beautiful and ethereal with what seemed to be white feathery wings coming from her back. But before he could utter a word to her, she faded away, the last thing that he remembers of her is the symbol of a waterfall on her amulet. Matthew just collapsed to his knees on the forest ground, still in shock from having almost been killed and life flashing before his eyes to being saved by some sort of angel. Finally after minutes of being lost in thought, an elven ranger found him and asked what had happened, Matthew telling her about how he almost got eaten by a snake and was saved by an angel. She felt bad that she hadn't gotten here sooner to save him, offering to escort him back to his home. As he lead the way, they made it back to the town and going towards his house. But when he opened up the door, he found his parents lying dead and all bloody on the floor, snakes slowly eating their corpses as he screamed so loudly. The ranger was shocked before quickly taking out the snakes, hugging and comforting the young boy who was now an orphan. The next day she took him to the city where she found a couple willing to adopt and take him into their home as their son. That night after his first day of being with his new family, he had a terrifying nightmare. It was utter darkness and he was all alone before he could hear the sound of hissing getting closer and closer to him. Then he screamed as a giant black serpent quickly wrapped and constricted itself tightly around him, red eyes staring into his own. "You should have died. I have waited too long to lose what was promised to me. Your soul will forever be mine, that is without question. I will torment and torture you until the day that you die when I will finally claim your soul that rightfully belongs to me. Never forget this boy." the voice hissed at him before quickly opening its mouth and swallowing him alive. Matthew woke up that next morning screaming, panting and covered in sweat as he realized that it was only a nightmare but felt so real. He thought that it was just a one-time thing, but unfortunately he would have the same exact nightmare almost every night, being tormented and eaten by that serpent before waking up screaming and exhausted. He joined the church of Eldath, thinking that might help and having remembered how the angel who saved him wore the same symbol of the Goddess of Peace, Eldath. Matthew believed in their ideals of peace and devoted himself, training in their ways and planning to become a priest. But not long after this while in the middle of a morning prayer, the Goddess Eldath appeared in a vision. She chose him to become a cleric who would serve her, to do his best to help heal the wounded and promote peace in her name as opposed to violence. He agreed, believing that it was one of her angels who had saved him on that day. From that day forward as the years went on, he would travel the land and go with adventurers, helping them by healing their wounds and keeping them safe from harm. But even with his powers from Eldath, he has still been suffering from that nightmare almost every night for the past five years, reassuring others who were concerned that it was nothing and all was fine even when he knew that it wasn't. It has plagued him for so long, wearing him down as he is afraid of dying and having an intense fear of snakes as a result. He does not know that it is in fact Asmodeus who took the form of that snake on his 16th birthday, who wants his pure soul that belongs to him after having tricked his parents into signing a contract before he was born. It cleverly stated in demonic language that on their first-born child's sixteenth birthday, he would get to claim their soul for himself to do with as he pleases. After that blasted Eldath and her angel ruined his plans, he killed the boy's parents for not fulfilling their part of the contract and now gives him unending nightmares of his worst fear, torturing and intending to wear him down until he finally dies and can take that sweet pure soul of his as his long awaited reward.
In the last session, we all met up with the angel that has been mostly accompanying our party and we finally got answers as to why we were all brought together. We were all chosen by Eldath to go on a mission that our predecessors had failed back a thousand years ago, which is to find and destroy the three artifacts in order to prevent the fabric of reality from ripping and destroying everything once again, having only thirty days to do so. My character found out from her that he has been destined for this mission since before he was born, the reason why the angel saved him from his fated death long ago and why Eldath had chosen him to be her cleric as well, finding out about why he has been tormented with these nightmares and how to make them stop. He has to complete this mission and once he does, Eldath will give him peace by stopping the nightmares and keeping his soul safe for good. Of course, Asmodeus is going to know about this and not want that to happen at all so at some point during the campaign, he will appear to try to stop Matthew and take his soul while sending snakes after him after all.
I think today I'll share my smallest character so far: Naxxink Tusi, the kobold sorcerer.
Having been born with white scales and innate magical ability, it was without question that young Naxxink would someday serve as a priest for his people, bringing the orders from their dragon, Rimewrath, to his people's den. On the day that he was presented with his orb, he felt so proud.
It wasn't long after that day that both Naxxink and his fellow priests noticed that Rimewrath was acting oddly. Slowly but surely, Rimewrath became even more obsessive about his treasure and paranoid about outsiders than the average white dragon. Despite their warnings, none of the other kobolds wanted to leave the safety of their den until Rimewrath finally snapped and began attacking.
Very few Kobolds managed to escape and those that did scattered before Naxxink could gather them together. The lonliness that he felt was nearly unbearable, but he kept moving. If he just kept one foot in front of the other, that was one step further away from his mad ex-master.
One day, Naxxink managed to find a town that was mostly populated by humans, elves and other tall, smelly sorts. Oh, such shiny things they had! As he reached for a loose bag of shinies, he found himself thrown behind a bush by...another kobold!
'Silly! Foolish! You forget the agreement?' the new kobold asked.
Her expression changed when she realized that Naxxink was a newcomer. 'Come, come! See our town! You need some food, yeah? We feed you, yeah,' she said. Naxxink was lead/dragged under the town to find a sprawling sewer network, maintained by kobolds.
'Humans let us build sewers, we take little shinies. We live, they live. Need a home?' the lady kobold asked. Having no other options, Naxxink stayed. Even though it took him a while to break out of his innate desire to steal from and attack any smelly-talls, he soon learned to live their way.
As time went by, Naxxink worried about Rimewrath and its potential threat to his home. Saying goodbye to his community, Naxxink set out to find adventurers to help him...Naxxink isn't stupid, after all. Smelly-talls make great meat shields!
First draft of my Halfling Gunslinger - Tinker Goodspeed.
Never played a halfling, and obviously Gunslinger is brand-spankin' new, so, I'm sure I'm missing a lot.
Born and raised in Beluir, Tinker Goodspeed was always getting into trouble. Dangerously curious, he was usually able to get himself out of trouble with his nimble handiwork, fleet feet, and sharp tongue. Usually some combination of those three, anyway. He fancied himself a creator, inventor, and a craftsman... but, his father sent him to learn to be a soldier to help defend his people. In training, and during his short tenure as a Warder, he just always felt there was a better way... a better weapon, some better mechanism, that would help them. But, he struggled to be taken seriously.
So, he fiddled, adjusted, schemed, sketched, and tinkered. At night, he dreamed of adventures far away - he felt like he was not where he was meant to be.
It wasn't long after he left the city of his birth to wander and find his proper place in life, that he came across an elderly Dwarf while in a cavemouth, waiting out a 3-day storm. This Dwarf, Lulgror Copperforge, had made a discovery, and wanted to pass that information on before his end. Tinker spent the next week in the caves, performing tasks and trying to best the challenges of this elderly, untrusting hermit. Once Lulgror was convinced, he showed Tinker the Black Powder... and what it did. He instructed his apprentice how to find it, how carefully to extract it from the earth, and how to craft the strange weapons and ammunition. So, when at last Logror send him away so that he could be at peace before his death, Tinker had his first Pistol, and the knowledge of how to use, repair, and rearm it.
Of course, that knowledge was never enough for the likes of Tinker. He dreamed up improvements, practiced his aim, and tried to keep his little "tool" a secret. But word spread, and soon enough, there was a weird man who came to him, asking him to create a weapon. This was different, sort of a cross between a pistol and a crossbow. Since Tinker was familiar with both, he was able to make it work. But, in his dealings with the man, he felt he was nefarious and only wanted the "Bowcannon" for revenge. He backed out of the deal, returned the gold, and managed to talk his way out of what could have been his early death.
New obsession in hand, he wanders around, exploring the world, and trying, in some small way, to help.
I hadn't seen this thread! So many cool character stories.
Here is my current character, Zyllyyn the Elf Assassin, that I am playing in a Dragon Heist game.
Zyllyyn was born to a large elven family in one of the more packed districts of Waterdeep and has never left the city of splendors in her near century of life. Her parents, Gilrael and Zalyira, were a misnomer when compared to other families of elves, with 9 children they were the largest family in their neighborhood. With 5 of her siblings fully mature and traveling away from Waterdeep before she was born, Zyllyyn was an odd middle child as her triplet sisters were born only a few years after her, and the expectation was for her to act as an older and wiser sister. She never grew up to know them however, as shortly after her 10th birthday, her parents and sisters were caught up in a mysterious accident that left them and many other people from her neighborhood dead. Her mostly happy childhood with a large collection of friends came crashing down and left her a homeless orphan.
In the first few months after the tragedy she sought help from others she knew from around her home, but always found a cold shoulder as if she was blamed for something. With nowhere else to go she was eventually picked up by an orphanage and brought in to cleaned up and given shelter. What she found was betrayal, as the priestesses that ran the orphanage put on a smiling face initially and in front of visitors, but would turn cruel and violent with her and the other orphans. The abuse lasted a few years before she found an odd friend in an older gnome who always seemed to have some shiny trinket on hand. She spent more and more time away from the orphanage and in the streets with this gnome, Snaffle Knizzlepop, and other street urchins who followed him around. He would ask them to do little tasks here and there, and slip them a bauble or coin as payment. Zyllyyn took to this naturally, and he showed her the tricks of the trade, as she discovered he was actually a well known thief in the ward, The Gear Burglar.
Long gone from the orphanage, Zyllyyn spent years roaming the streets applying the tricks learned from Snaffle and making enough coin to eat and have shelter. A chance bit of information clued her in on the fact that the same priestesses that cared for her and others were not charged with crimes after a recent set of accusations were brought against them. While angered by this she didn't know what she could do to set things right, when an off hand comment of a nearby tavern patron saying the priestesses would make things better if they were dead led her to the conclusion that she could provide such a service. After leaving the orphanage and making the first, second, and third kills of her career, she set out to not only make things right based on her own sense of justice, but to make some money with those skills.
Now, after 60 years of perfecting her craft, she is ready for more. Her connections on the street to gain information, such as the crazy old Sebastian, and with prominent players in the Zhentarim, will help in taking that next step.
AdmiralChry's Homebrew Compendium - A collection of all my classes, subclasses, magic items, and etc.
Tuck remembers nothing before living on the streets with his brother. What happened to their parents, how they ended up on the streets, their family name..... He remembers none of it. He and his brother lived on the streets for years with his older brother looking out for him and protecting him. they begged for scraps and the odd copper piece. One day his brother made the mistake of approaching the prince on the street to beg for a coin. The prince simply stabbed the nuisance through the heart in front of Tuck's eyes. Being the prince he could kill a common street urchin in the street without even a reprimanding word, much less any repercussions. Tuck could not do anything at the time, but did retrieve the poor quality small knife from his brothers possession.
Tuck spent the next years of his life learning to survive on the streets. Learning various skills of thieves. He will only steal up though. Never from those in low fortune themselves, and not enough to cause much hardship. While still looking out for other street kids and orphans and those in need. He enjoys the finer things he can afford from his ill gotten gains. Drinking and carousing. His fun loving nature hides his dark past and feelings.
His goals are to become a master thief and accumulate a fortune. However his greatest goal is revenge upon the prince, who is now the king of the land. Right now these are minor and secretive acts against the king and the realm. In the long term these will become greater, hoping eventually stripping him of his fortune and other ways to make him miserable, before finally attacking him head on, to one day drive his brothers knife into the kings heart.
Malvedar the Dragonborn wizard was born in the clan lands of Zir. In childhood, his love of magic was started when he found a dead wizard in the clan territory, and picked up the man's book. He spent the following years studying at the Great Library of Ziris, where he befriended the fellow Dragonborn Drookiranor Rakbaran. This was seen as a sign for future friendship between the Orkomion and Drookiranor clans. As a further sign of friendship, Malvedar was given the offspring of the Drookiranor clan's Pseudo-dragon mascot, which he named Orkomia. Despite their great friendship (some say lovers, though that is not true, since Malvedar is aromantic and asexual), they were in great disagreement on dragons. Rakbaran considered them dangerous and gruesome, due to their enslavement of the Dragonborn in the ancient past (did I mention this was a homebrew world?), while Malvedar forgave them for that crime, and thought there was much to be learned form them, though he did not want to submit to them.
One of their arguments grew far out of proportion, and by morning, Rakbaran lay dead. Orkomia left Malvedar in disgust, and he was so ravaged by grief that he wandered out in the desert to die. He was prevented from committing suicide by Orkomia, who returned to him and held back his hand. He left Zir, and went to wander the world, hoping to settle somewhere, and one day forgive himself.
"What do you mean I get disadvantage on persuasion?"
I don't know, Sneet, maybe because your argument is "Submit and become our pet"?
-Actual conversation in a game.
His name was Syrran. Syrran Na-Lae, third son of Tokuji Na-Lae. Noble born and bred, he had everything he wanted. Honour, fame, glory, women, wealth. The island peninsula of Myirian-Vaskat was at peace for the first time in generations, all thanks to the efforts of Tokuji Na-Lae and his sons, Kensuke, Tadaori, Syrran and Toruki. It had not always been this way of course.
The Seron people, similar to humans in some ways, to elves in others and to Orcs in still others, are not a peaceful people. It was rumoured, among the learned, that in the misty past, the Sorcererous Council had simply cut the Myrian peninsula off from the mainland and pushed it into the ocean so that they wouldn’t have had to deal with the proud four eyed people. Another rumour was that the Serons had used their own mages to split their island off from the mainland so as not to have to bow their necks to the Sorcererous Council’s interference in their ancient culture. None know for certain now, for the Seron jealously guard the few libraries that still remain.
Still, what is known is enough. Syrran and his brothers were born onto an island peninsula engulfed in warfare between rival clans. The arch-warlord, the Warmaster of Myrian, had died and left no heir and so the clans warred for possession and control of the capital city, and when the capital city was destroyed, they fought for the farms. Tokuji Na-Lae watched this happen and knew it was not sustainable and so he gathered his clan up and, through a torturous web of alliances and betrayal, created a force that would not be withstood… using this force, he crushed all who stood in his way, with a mix of wily tactics, guile, and absolute ruthlessness. It took ten years of war, but the land was finally at peace for the first time in centuries.
Syrran naturally learned to fight as soon as he could walk, immersed in the martial culture of the Serons and trained with sword, horse and bow, however unlike his brothers, all of whom had their minds turned upon home, and the spoils of their conquest, Syrran’s eyes were turned heavenward, for among the ruins of the capital, Syrran found a temple consecrated to the Silent One, the Seron god of knowledge and civilization. Amid the rack and ruin, amid the sacked city, this temple remained standing and well tended, and when Syrran approached, his breastplate black with spilt blood, sword still in hand, he found his advance checked by a young monk with a staff. Though the monk was little more than a boy, barely into his manhood and no match for the seasoned campaigner before him, he was still willing to die in defence of his faith. Such devotion was admirable, and left a lasting impression upon Syrran.
However other things left a lasting impression upon the Seron warlord. As the dust settled, the Seron started to travel the peninsula, to see how he could aid the land coming back to its feet. He found a land drowning in devastation, mired in blood and sorrow. Here, he took his first steps from the pre-ordained path of the Seron noble. He enlisted with the houses of healing, exchanging his sword and banner for the mask and robe of the healers orders. As he aided the healing of others’ bodies, the damage to his mind started to manifest, become more vivid and apparent. The dreams and images of cities put to the sword. Of men killed. Such things left the Seron with more questions than answers, questions that required answers. He wandered from the houses of healing and travelled the peninsula once again, seeking knowledge and understanding. Eventually, he came back to the capital, to the Silent God’s temple, to the young monk that had taught Syrran the strength of determination.
Three years after the war was over, Syrran joined the order of the Cwher-Gamn’Alte, the elusive and secretive knightly order in service to the Silent God. who made it their mission to learn, and to spread Seron civilization to the continent. He rose rapidly through the ranks, eschewing his noble birth for his newfound place of belonging, and soon he was sent across the sea to the main continent, with orders to learn and report, to discover how iron-shod the Sorcerous Council’s grip on power was…
There were other reasons for him to go overseas of course. One of these was a certain question that was being asked. A certain relationship developing between Syrran and one of his scribes that perhaps could do with being kept under wraps. The hope being that proverb about absence making the heart go fonder could turn out to be wrong.
Thusly, Syrran found himself upon the adventurer’s trail with little more than a pack, his father’s blessing, and an idea.
Eh, I'll provide a story for an elven-cleric character that unfortunately I never got to use much.
Dathyra was the second of seven children in her family, and the eldest daughter. Honestly, there was very little remarkable about her childhood. She grew up like any other elf living deep in High Forrest. She helped her parents and her siblings wherever she could, and pretty much had a typical life.
Around the time she reached her mid 80's, disaster struck. Raiders struck her village, burning and killing all who were caught in their sights. Carrying her youngest sister in tow, Dathyra was barely able to escape the chaos. Two of her brothers, her older brother Vaquen included, and her mother also escaped the blaze. The same could not be said of her father and her three other siblings. And even then, there was no guarantee they would all survive. Within that first night after their escape, her brother, Rael, died from his injuries, and there mother was too seriously injured and sick to walk. Vaquen took the lead, and did everything in his power to keep what remained of their family intact. Dathyra assumed a more maternal role towards her sister and saw to her care.
For several weeks, the remaining refugees from the raids trekked across the forest, trying to find any help at all. Food was growing scarce, and several times, Dathyra and Vaquen had to go without just to see to it that their sister and mother were cared for. But, fortune eventually smiled on them when they reached Sundabar and found the small temple to Lathander there. Its devotees welcomed the elven survivors with open arms and saw to their needs. After a few days of recovery, the head abbot, Father Uridan offered the elves total refuge in the temple, provided they convert and become followers of Lathander themselves. Having seen the healers take care of their mother, who was still very weak from the ordeal, and having nowhere else to go, Dathyra and her siblings readily accepted. Since then, Dathyra has been a devoted member of the temple and honestly believes Lathander had more sympathy for their plight than their old gods.
Adapting to temple life came with other challenges. Many of the elven followers were expected to assimilate to human culture. Some were able to adapt easier than others, Dathyra among them. However, that's come with its own issues. Dathyra remains conflicted about who she is and where she belongs. On the one hand, the temple has been her home for many years after the raid. Father Uridan has become a second father to her, and she couldn't imagine life without her human friends. On the other, her mother insists that Dathyra and her siblings have lost their way and forgotten their elven culture. They no longer seem to remember all the names of their old gods, rarely speak in their old tongue, and do not observe tradition. Dathyra is torn between these two worlds and doesn't know what to do. She wishes she could just be accepted as she is: as both elf and part of human culture.
And unfortunately, tragedy was not done with Dathyra. Only ten years after settling into the temple, and other issues arose. Marriage was not really a strong concept among the elves. With over 700 years in their lifespans, they didn't see a strong need to stay with one person for so long. The longest relationship any elf has is with the partner they choose to raise children with, and even then, no official ceremonies existed in their culture for such occasions. Therefore, in elven customs, it shouldn't have been a big deal when Dathyra found herself pregnant by one of her elven friends. However, Father Uridan insisted that children conceived outside of the bounds of marriage were a blight and an insult to Lathander. She therefore tried to conceal her secret for as long as possible. That, of course, did not work out and Father Uridan learned the truth. While disappointed, he accepted that whatever decisions that would have to be made would have to happen when her child was born.
Thrilled that there may be a possibility that she would get to keep her child, Dathyra prepared for the prospect of motherhood. That was sadly not to be. By that winter, something terrible, yet unexplainable happened. Still far away from giving birth, she found herself incredibly sick and given to the care of the best healers in the temple. The child, her son, still far to small to survive, did not make it, but surprisingly Dathyra did. Unsure what to do, the healers quickly rushed to save her. It took months for Dathyra to recover, and occasionally, she still does feel weak spells, but physically, she made it. However, she is constantly reminded of this horrible event with the scar she still bares. Father Uridan convinced her that this was her punishment for conceiving a child out of wedlock. He even sent away the man who had fathered the child, hoping that Dathyra would no longer be "distracted."
Twenty years had passed since that day, and Dathyra has still not forgiven herself for this sin. In an effort to redeem herself, she had volunteered to go on a charity mission to help do good about the realm. This decision was welcomed by her mother, who felt she needed time to explore as part of elven culture. Father Uridan expressed approval at the choice, but still worries about her safety and sent her well armed. Vaquen worries greatly for his sister and hopes that she returns soon.
True, forgiveness is what she seeks, but above all else, all Dathyra wants is a sense of home and family. She wants to feel safe and loved somewhere. After having lost her home and her family (twice really), she needs a group of people who can make her feel like she is home where she belongs.
Lvl 2 - Dathyra Galanodel - High Elf Cleric of the Life Domain - Platinum Plated Keys
Lvl 5 - Dathyra Galanodel - High Elf Cleric of the Life Domain - Hunted
Lvl 1 - Geth Hornraven - Human Wizard - Lost Mine of Phandelver
DM - Imela: The Adventure Begins
Rat Catcher / Food Vendor - CN Ranger (Based on a true photograph)
“Fresh meat on a stick here! Getcha fresh meat lollipops here! One copper for 2! One fer you an one for the one you love! Meat Lollies, two for one coppa ere!”
"Everyone gots ta eat, right? Times is tough these days. If they wants to know what it is, I tells em. It’s fresh delicious Rat meat. Some care, but most don’t. Me prices are good and it is some good, Mmm Mmm eatin! See, I catches em me self every day, it’s me job. No one can catch a rat better than me in this city! Everyone comes ta me in this city. Bakers, cooks, markets, hospitals, clergy, nobles an kings! When they has a rat problem, um the one they call. An then I turn their problem into profit by cookin em up and sellin em on the street. Cha-Ching!"
"I’ve been living on the streets for as long as I members. When the orphanage kicked a bunch of us out sayin we could fend for ourselves, us kids would stay safe from the hustle and bustle by living in the sewers. Under the city, it was a quiet and safe home once you got past the dirt and smell. And plenty of rats to eat once you knew where they were and how to catch em. Over time, I got to knowin the sewers like the back of me hand. Even better than any of the thieves guilds or city workers maintaining them. An if interested, me knows all the secret ways to get in and out of anywheres in this city, for a price of course."
"You look like a bunch of fellas that could use a smart guide like me in this town! I could tell you are not from around here and this is a rather unsavory neighborhood. I could show you around and help if you need to look for someone or something. Hire me an I’ll even throw in 2 meat sticks for each one of ya! Whatcha think of that?
Discord: Tully#0286
My DM is running a new short-term campaign soon surrounding a strange arctic village, so I've got a new Rogue to play! She's an aarakocra Inquisitive Rogue.
Iren has been searching. Searching a very long time.
She learned the trade from her parents. Her um and ab (mother and father) were both interested in aspects of questions. Her um was a crown officer, responsible for dissecting remains of suspicious deaths and determining their causes. Often she worked on the sick, seeking clues to the plagues that ravaged cities whole. Her ab was a questioner of another sort, a man who made his living watching others, and noticing secrets. Both taught her that there were answers hidden in places not many thought to look -- but they were always there. And so, she always asked questions, just as they did.
As Iren blossomed, so did her mind. She became well known for her natural aptitude for puzzle solving, and it wasn’t long before she was presented with a problem from a strange man. It was a murder mystery. It took her days of extensive research and work-- But eventually she returned to the man with a solution. He merely nodded, placing her work into a folder, and began to leave. She asked him if she was right… He did not answer.
But the man returned. He brought her a new mystery. One that involved stolen jewels. Once more she gave her weeks to the project, researching avenues on her own and using every resource at her disposal. She returned to the man with her answer, and he did the same as before, leaving without telling her right or wrong.
And the man returned again, and again, and again-- He returned until her parents did not.
Iren’s um and ab were in the far north, called to investigate a question of great secrecy. They promised their return in months, however a parcel arrived in their place. Within it: Her mother’s kila, and her father’s jambiya-- Objects she knew they would never part with. The parcel had no returning address.
The man soon returned one last time. He introduced himself this time as the Mullah from a larger city a day’s travel from the village. The same Mullah her um and ab had worked for.
The Mullah offered her a home, room and board, and a job as a consultant on cases of extreme question. Having nothing else, no right to her home; no family seeming to return; no true possessions or knowledge of survival; Iren accepted.
Over the next eight years, she became adept in her work, and learned that she had solved many cases before being hired. Those puzzles had, in truth, been reality. The Mullah had not credited her on her past work, and he still rarely did, but he did reward her for the answers she provided, and Iren knew that she would have nothing without him, so she accepted what she received.
Her life seemed in order, though she never lost interest in investigating her um and ab’s disappearance. She would work in her spare time, asking the questions and finding the clues she could manage. One day, she received a letter. The battered old parchment merely said “North”, and contained a cutting out of an old file.
The file read a list of names -- including her um and ab’s -- and claimed that all listed had died in an avalanche. Bodies and possessions went unrecovered. The event was to go unremembered. Iren was left with an entirely new world of questions, and only one answer worth following:
North.
Ann of House Sierra, the Tiefling Evoker Wizard (first character, death induced retirement)
I was born into the small but wealthy and influential noble house of Sierra in Asileon.
My mother cared little for my appearance and loved me unconditionally.
My father, while a fervent bigot towards non-humans, was also blind as a bat and thus oblivious of my true appearance as my mother never told him he fathered a Tiefling.
Any attempts from others to inform him about me were cast aside as lies and attempts to besmirch our family name.
Because of this I was raised away from the hardships most Tieflings experienced.
As time passed and I grew up I made friends who did not care for the blood running through my veins.
I had shown to many that despite appearances, in my heart I was human.
Raised human, by humans, around humans.
I never learned the Infernal tongue, and although I was adapt at learning all kinds of magics, I never used it to burn a person's house down, people tend to appreciated that.
The amount of people that accepted me as an equal slowly grew.
The number of attempts to slander my family's name through me declined within our community as people started to see the futility of dealing with my father, and recognize that I wanted little to do with whatever hellish forces were responsible for bringing the Tieflings into existence.
I was accepted into a school where I could get a formal education and I was even approached by universities.
throughout my life I have always felt the scales of fortune tipping in my favor.
Born into nobility to a blind and stubborn bigot and a mother who loved me regardless.
Falling trees just barely missing me.
Ice holding my weight just long enough to get across before breaking.
Games of chance between me and my friends seemingly always going my way.
I have started to think there might be some truth behind the stories my mother used to tell me about Tymora, the goddess of good fortune, a deity our household has apparently held in high regard for generations.
Now, as an adult, I have capitalized on many of the opportunities most Tieflings wouldn't dare dream of.
I work as a graduate research assistant under Professor Wellington and have grown into quite the capable wizard if I may say so myself.
I still keep in touch and visit my parents as I would never have gotten this far without them.
But it is time I forge my own legacy, time to earn the right to call myself a Sierra.
Atros Cel'm Kes, the High Elf Cavalier Fighter (Currently playing)
I had always been different, always bigger and stronger than others my age. on field trips I'd wake up with a shaved head and the telltale markings of a Goliath on my face. It was their way of bullying me, Goliath's were considered dumb brutes so resembling one did not exactly work in my favor. These "pranks" were beaten down on but that didn't always stop many of my peers.
On my 120th summer my formal military training was complete and my classmates and I set out in search of what many called "internship", a 20 year period where we'd hone our skills and learn new things from outside sources. Some went in search of dwarven or human towns to ask for training. I however decided to embrace the stigma I had been confronted with for the majority of my life. Goliaths were considered dumb by more civilized races but no sane man would question their strength and fighting prowess. So I traveled to a known Goliath herd in the nearby *insert name* mountain range. and I begged them to train me.
After months of convincing and proving my worth they finally took me in as a temporary herd member. For many summers and winters I trained, hunted, survived, and fought alongside them until they decided they had taught me everything. It wasn't all hardship, I participated in their celebrations and made friends among them, I was accepted as an honorary member, I almost didn't want to leave. One day I figured my "friends" back home could not use my appearance against me if I embraced it, with the blessing of the herd I shaved my head and got the iconic Goliath markings permanently tattooed on my skin. If it wasn't for the color of my skin I could easily be mistaken for a small Goliath.
On my return after 20 years I entered the 'Eidarar', a test in the form of a kind of competition to find a suitable position in the military for all who had finished their internship. Thanks to the brutal training I went through and my superior physical form I left my "friends" in the dust and qualified for the job of Royal Guard. I of course started out at the bottom, guarding gates and hallways, but throughout the years I kept proving myself and I rose to the rank of guard commander, and by extension I served as the personal guard of Eliza, Queen of Flora.
I was good at my job, any who'd wish harm on my queen would leave in chains or pieces, and for the 200 years I served as my queen's personal guard many had indeed done so. But I could not be everywhere, see everything, and not every threat could be fought with a blade. A lesson that was taught to me when one morning I discovered my queen in her chambers, poisoned. No one blamed me but me, I swore to Eliza's daughter and successor, Michelle, that I would find whoever was responsible. And after some changes and improvements to the guard I set out to do just that, I will find the killer, and they will answer for their crimes.
J'Zargo, the Lizardfolk Beastmaster ranger (next in line if Atros dies or retires)
J'zargo is Lizardfolk, he hails from a place called... Abra door? Nice swamps and lots of meat.
J'zargo's tribe was visited by a tiny man and a big green toothy man.
The man told J'zargo his name but it was too long for J'zargo so he called him Tiny man, the tiny man did not seem to mind. The big toothy man was a "bodyguard" and did the frowny face when J'zargo called him Green man, but he did not give J'zargo something else to call him.
Tiny man said he was from a place called More Light? said he was a "Scholar" or something.
He wanted a guide that could show him around all the ruins in the swamp.
J'zargo was the tribes hunter so he knew most about the swamp.
They visited many ruins and temples, always Tiny man did the sad face when we got there, said it was not what he was looking for.
Tiny man taught J'zargo many things whenever they set up camp. He taught J'zargo how to read and speak something called "Gnomish" and "Orcish", J'zargo did not know what good this skill would do him in the swamp but the Tiny man seemed to find pleasure in teaching J'zargo so he listened.
One day Tiny man did the happy jumping when J'zargo found another temple, J'zargo didn't understand. His kin did not like this temple, it put the scales up straight.
Reaching the Altar Tiny man started reading from a book, J'zargo did not recognised the language at first, but it was a bad language, one that burned J'zargo's ears when he heard it (Infernal).
Green man did the smiling for the first time.
When Tiny man finished reading a large window opened in the air and a big fearsome looking thing came out and ran outside. J'zargo did not think this was what Tiny man expected, but before J'zargo could ask him Green man stabbed Tiny man.
J'zargo did not understand this Fleshy custom but apparently Green man wanted J'zargo to join.
He stabbed J'zargo in the eye and hurt him so J'zargo had to kill him.
J'zargo made an arrow basket from Tiny Gnome man and took Green man's glowing bow.
They were good meat but J'zargo felt like he was forgetting something.
J'zargo's tribe was gone, the big mean thing destroyed it and killed all his kin.
J'zargo felt something for the first time.. J'zargo felt guilt, J'zargo helped this happen, so J'zargo had to make it right again, he traveled to More light to join Arms Viv and Tum because Tiny man told him they killed the big things. maybe they will help J'zargo kill the big thing that killed his tribe.
Aldrick Hargrave, the Fallen Aasimar Hexblade warlock (future character, no rush)
Born into a noble family in Haldor's Rock I lived a life of luxury for the first few years of my life.
Whether my parents intended for it to happen or not, having seemingly been blessed by the gods through me led to people treating our family differently, better. My parents accumulated a significant amount of political influence in the city. An influence that tends to draw unwanted attention. After the "unexplained and mysterious" death of my parents I was sent to live with my aunt in Moorlight, who held a position of power in the council there. She seemed nice for a long time and made me feel welcome. However, unbeknownst to the outside world my Aunt had a darker side her. The "I'm secretly part of a cult" kind of darker side.
As I grew older she would routinely leave me to stay with this creepy elf for a few days, he gave me the creeps and tried to sell his dumb beliefs to me. I knew I shouldn't trust him but the books and tomes he would show me did have this strange attraction to them, I could feel the urge to read them creep up on me. Whenever they did I would hear a voice in the back of my head, it would encourage me to resist the temptation, and so I did.
This charade would last for a few years but I always stood by my beliefs and denied him the satisfaction of "corrupting" me. Until they doubled their efforts however.
It was only a couple months ago when my aunt invited the elf up to our house, a bunch of women showed up as well, I recognized some of their faces from noble gatherings in the city. I just wanted to stay in my room until whatever it was they were doing was done and they'd leave our house, but they apparently had other plans. A bunch of the women stormed into my room and dragged me downstairs where my aunt and the Elf had prepared some sinister looking ritual. While they tied me down I could hear the Elf talk about using my Celestial blood for preparations for the purge or something. Despite my efforts there wasn't much I could do as whatever ritual they performed took place, All the shadows and dark spirits flying around made me wonder how my aunt could have ever thought that what she was doing was a mission of a benevolent god. All I could feel was demonic and fiendish power flowing through me. And as I felt some dark force take root in my soul I could at the same time feel my connection to the divine deity that gave me strength snap like a string.
Whatever ritual they performed had ended, and as a result I was cursed, tainted, fallen from grace. And even after a group of adventures had stopped the Purge and killed my aunt and the Elf I could still feel the power I was given. Now I must find a way to restore my connection to my divine progenitor, perhaps my curse will help me with this, or it will stand in my way. But I can feel it becoming more and more a part of me with every passing day, perhaps by the end of this I don't even want to get rid of it, and I might find a balance between light and dark. Only time will tell.
After much back and forth, scrapping and starting over I finally came up with a character backstory for Maliira, my Fallen Aasimar Warlock (Hexblade).
Maliira was born of 2 human parents, the celestial heritage was so dormant it was forgotten. In their ignorance they believed the child was cursed, and so they secretly left the child deep in the woods to die. She was found by a member of the Cult of a lesser known Daemoness, Shaliah. They were lovers of decadence and violence and Maliira, because of her strange beauty, became their most prized possession. Maliira grew up surrounded by sadistic torture and overindulgence but she herself was merely an observer. she envied the warriors and assassins that worked for them, craving adventure and bloodshed.
One night Maliira begins having dreams and hearing a voice, calling to her, like a mother's lullaby. she follows the voice into hidden chambers of the temple/castle. There she finds a cleaver wrapped in bandages covered in fresh blood, at the end of the hilt a round blood red jewel that swirled like blood. Compulsively Maliira touches the weapon and a jolt on energy shoots through her and and a pain flow through her veins she hears a voice, matronly and gentle "You are mine now my child. You do not need this “family” anymore. Your destiny is far greater. It is time for you to live life deliciously but you must break out of your cage.” The moments that came after Maliira does not fully remember, just the sound a screams, the smell of blood and a warm embrace around her.
When she awakes from her trance there is nothing left of her “home” but bodies and destruction. There was no sadness or longing. Maliira felt... free. And powerful. Taking pieces of the armor worn by the warriors she once envied, and scavenging whatever wasn't destroyed completely, she set off to discover the world and the adventures it held, humming gently as she kicked bodies out of her way.
It's relatively short but I wanted it to be kind opened ended and have holes that can be filled as the journey unfolds.
I've been working on this character for quite some time now, and I am very proud of it.
Presenting... Janti Krimh the Hexblade Bard of Mephistopheles, and a humanoid rights activist
Long before the great Spell Plague of 1385 DR and the death of the Goddess Mystra, a man named D'mir Krimh was born to a lonely couple. He grew up and set out to journey to the coast, for it was his dream to see the ocean. He traveled to the coastal town of Beloma and made a life. He settled in a small clay-brick cottage and wrote stories from his imagination. Some of them were wild, with tales of planets and flying ships, others somber with the death of gods and rise of demons. He comfortably sat in his house until his days were near the end. Then the Spell Plague began. The ground started shaking and beasts long forgotten rose from the depths of the ocean and the earth. The humble sea town was almost destroyed in the following days, but as the crisis slowed down, the town rebuilt. Of the 137 citizens, only 22 were left.
They rebuilt the town better than before, with help from the traveling Archmage Auxil Whilmyre. The town continued to thrive as the population rose back to its normal, but one day, D'mir was sitting on his porch, writing a new story about a war between interplanetary creatures called the Grithe, when he heard a wailing cry. He discovered a small baby, with skin the color of a plum and eyes as frigid as the snow-covered mountains to the east. D'mir took the baby and her small green wrappings to his home and he fed her, and nursed her until the day he died. He named her Janti, after the town elder who had so bravely protected their village, dying to the hand of a giant. Janti grew up to be a tall and able young woman, and lived with her adopted father until he died in the year 1408 DR, the year of the Black Hand. She lived on the streets of Beloma for many years, but decided that wasn't the life for her.
Janti worked her way south to get to the City of Splendors, trying to figure out where she came from, while trying to make a new life for herself. She acquired a hat of disguise, and joined Captain Zardoz Zord's circus, pretending to be an middle aged woman named Fiorli G'milas and worked as a singer. As time went on, she learned how to weave magic in her voice and entrance all of the people who watched. Life was finally what she wanted it to be, until she came across a discarded ornate box on the side of the street. It was a beautiful box, ornately carved out of the finest wood, with pieces of blue velvet and gold filigree delicately styled to look like leaves. Janti picked up the box, wondering why someone would leave an expensive box on the side of the road. The moment she touched the box, a jolt shook her, and she stumbled back. The quickly retrieved the box and sauntered back to her small apartment in the south end of the city. Laying on her bed, she marveled at the box's beauty, but one thing was wrong. the box wouldn't open. It's seemingly delicate clasp was stuck shut. For days on end, Janti went to every metal smith in the city, even spending some of her life savings to journey to the Purple Rock islands to see if anyone could help her. No one could. Janti retreated home one day after her job at the circus. The box she had left on her bed was sitting there, a key in the slot. Janti sat down, confused by the sudden appearance of the key and opened the box.
Inside the box was a small blue orb, In the center floated a green gemstone, perfectly round, not a single flaw. She delicately picked up the orb, and in that moment, she saw. She saw horrible despicable things, her mind shrank away, but was pulled back, forced to watch terrible, despicable things. Then it all stopped. Janti opened her eyes and she was floating in a void, looking out into the endless horizon. Rising up from the endless black void below, man dressed in finery with crimson robes appeared. He looked and Janti and said, "I know who you are, Janti. You are my successes, my one heir, for I am Mephistopheles, archdevil of one of the nine. I can give you powers you will only dream of." Janti didn't know what to say. This was her true father? An archdevil? Not knowing what to do, Janti, accepted his offer, and that same feeling that had haunted her so many years ago came back. She opened her eyes that she didn't know were closed, and looked at the orb. The gemstone in the center had turned blood red, and she felt stronger and more powerful than before.
The next day, she quit the circus, and revealed her true identity to her superiors. They threw her out, stole her possessions, and beat her close to death. She woke up outside of Waterdeep, a bloody mess. Before her eyes, her wounds closed and she felt the orb in her satchel pulsating. She walked on, away from the prejudice and violence in the city she thought so wonderful. The day became dusk and the dusk moved on to night, and the forest was dark and mysterious. Janti soon became lost. She looked around trying to find an exit, but whenever she looked away, the path would close. She started backing up, slowly, as first, then almost running backwards, she bumped into something. She turned around and so did the creature. The stranger kept on its gray hood and drew a flaming blade. Janti summoned a swirling ball of acid in her hand and she prepared to fight. All of a sudden, the stranger's hood was whipped off. He stood before her, a angelic figure, and as silly as it seemed, it was love at first sight. Janti dispersed her ball of acid, and the glowing man put away his sword. They walked up to each other, wondering who the other was. After an unbearable silence, Janti spoke up. "Who are you?" she asked the man. "I am Marvolus Flymtor. Who are you?" She replied sheepishly, "I'm Janti Krimh." There was another moment of silence. Marvolus spoke up, "Do you know the way out of here?" and chuckled. Janti laughed as well, and shook her head. Marvolus started walking, slashing shrubbery with his flaming sword until they were out of the forest. There was another awkward bit of silence when Janti asked, "I'm going exploring. Want to join me?" He replied, "Sure, why not?" The two walked away, just as the sun started to rise.
In the years that passed many things happened. Janti and Marvolus' party grew. They even had a child who they named Biln Flymh. As the years went on, the two co-founded an organization called The Order of Redemptius, an adventuring group of humanoids, working together to prove to the other races that they are people too. Janti and Marvolus met with many leaders. King P'flin'as of the Chultian Tabaxi tribe, to name one. All discriminated races were welcome. Aarakocra, Aasimar, Firbolgs, Dragonborn, Goliaths, Kenku, Lizardfolk, Tabaxi, Tieflings, Tritons, Genasi, and many more. The organization spread across the land and even now has an outpost in Waterdeep. Janti joins any adventuring party who will accept her and her ideals, and gains reputation and treasure to fund her organization. Although she was an astounding activist, she made many enemies during her time in the field. After a close skrimish with a necromancer, the tip of her left horn was cut off. Janti now wanders the land, adventuring, but making sure to be home every tenday to spend time with her husband and son.
it's been a long time...
This my character Daniel
The story of Daniel is a simple one. He was abandoned as baby and was found by monk who lived in a nearby temple. For the next 12 years Daniel was taught the ways of the monk. Despite Daniel’s age, he became incredible fighter who had immense strength.Even though he was skilled, the boy was shy to the other people especially to the girls. Anytime he see a girl or one of them tries talks to Daniel he would freeze in an instant and run away blushing. His master Zhen Li was the only girl he could talk too normally without freeze up strange isn't. Despite being love by his master and the other monks, Daniel was curious about the world and dreams about going adventures. He asked his master many times if he set off but every time his master would always say "You are not ready my child, you are strong and skilled but you are naive and too trusting, the world is a dangerous place filled with temptations and sinister creatures". Daniel was heart broken but he respected his master wishes. However fortune soon came to chance when his Master was summon help with an old friend and his master asked the young boy if he wanted to come. Daniel did a 10 foot jump of joy when his master asked him and of course he said yes! Now the young boy with Master sets on a journey he will never forget.
Daniel is a 12 year old human boy and is class is a monk. He has milk chocolate hair and sapphire eyes, he also has a large scar on his cheek which he git from a training accident. He is average height and weight of any twelve year old boy and has fair skin. He loves listening to stories of adventures and heroic tales. He has a shy personality and is quite nervous about meeting other people. He is very shy girls and runs away from them only his master Zhen Li he can truly talk too. He loves sheep to death and if anyone dares hurts them he will go into rage. He loves eating fish too.His ideals are to strive for peace and justice. He is a neutral good character
Introducing my Triton rogue/sorcerer noble, Damos Unollath
The youngest son of an esteemed noble Triton house, Damos grew up in privilege. Servants saw to his and his five elder siblings’ (three brothers, two sisters) every need. His father, Corus, was a well-regarded general, and his mother, Shalryn, was a respected member of the ruling council. His two eldest brothers, twins Molos and Khovas, and one of his sisters, Aslyn, followed their father into the military, and his other brother, Varas, and other sister, Marlyn, joined their mother in politics. Damos adored his mother, respected his father, and of all his siblings, he was closest to his brother Khovas and his sister Marlyn.
Whether they liked it or not, Corus saw to it that his children were well-trained in the art of fighting, and Shalryn made sure they all had proper training in political, ethical, and moral issues. It quickly became apparent that although he was not the strongest, Damos was quick, both physically and mentally. No matter how hard his father pushed him, Damos clearly disliked physical confrontation, instead choosing to outwit his opponents using his wits.
One day, while training, Corus pushed a little too hard. The opponent he chose for Damos greatly outclassed him, and Corus had instructed him to not hold back. At first, Damos avoided the brunt of the blows, but he made a mistake, taking the full force of an attack, knocking him down. Corus angrily ordered his opponent to continue the attack, and a flurry of blows rained down on the young Triton. Suddenly, something snapped within Damos, and he felt power flow through his body. Wild magic surged out from him, knocking everyone watching the fight prone. Terrified, Damos fled from the city, wandering the ocean floor until Khovas found him and brought him home.
Things became strained with his father, who detested magic users, but was ordered by higher-ups to find a way to use Damos’ unique blend of skills, possibly as a spy or assassin. It was unknown what the source of Damos’ power was, but Corus forbid him from exploring it more than was necessary. Shalryn was against her son being used as a weapon, preferring to find a more diplomatic approach, and things soon grew tense in the household. Damos took to keeping to himself, unless he was required to join his father’s units on a mission. He disliked the work intensely, but he wanted more than anything for his father to be proud of him and accept him, so he held his tongue and did as he was told. When he was able to wander the ocean alone, he experimented with his powers, curious as to where they came from, and thrilling at the possibilities they unlocked.
Life continued this way for Damos for some time, until things unexpectedly took a tragic turn. One day during a meeting of the full council, a terrorist attack took the lives of his mother and his brother Varas. The lone attacker released a deadly poison into the council chambers, and through magical means kept it from spreading to the surrounding area. Though the attacker was a Triton woman, the poison she used was not one familiar to the underwater dwellers, meaning it could only have come from the surface. The Triton kingdom was on good terms with the surface realms, so there was no clue as to the identity of those responsible.
The family was devastated, Damos especially. He raged through the uninhabited parts of the surrounding area, his magic surging wildly from him, causing great swaths of devastation. His anger spent, he collapsed into a sobbing heap. When he pulled himself together, he went to his father, and asked that he be the one to go to the surface to discover the source of the attack. His speed, stealth, and especially his magical abilities might be the best combination to discover the villain behind this plot. Corus initially refused, not wanting Damos to reveal too much about himself and potentially bring harm to the family name, but Damos was unrelenting, and Corus eventually gave in. It was decided that Damos would go to the surface world, using the cover of going as an ambassador to strengthen ties between the sea kingdom and those on the surface.
So Damos set out, with only a single companion, who acted as servant and bodyguard. He quickly established an identity as a noble, if foppish, ambassador on a goodwill tour. He easily insinuated himself into the highest circles of society, using his position to move fluidly among the elite, attempting to ferret out information on who would want to destabilize the relationship between the land and sea kingdoms, all the while hiding his true abilities. He was charming and outgoing in public, but in private he remained cold and stoic, preparing for the day when he could face the ones responsible from killing his mother and brother, and removing one of the few bright spots from his life.
Baryn Helfyr was born of a dubious and mostly unexplained conception to a barren Elven recluse, misfortune follows Baryn like his own shadow.
His mother left him on a stoop shortly after birth. The village knew where he came from only by the blanket bundled around him, the recluse in town was a skilled weaver, if mad. The Elders tried to find his mother to return him but the pathway to her hut, the garden outside the door, the door, and the rest of the house had vanished in the night.
With nothing left to do but cast him out into the elements or raise him; they gave him to a couple who had just had a child of their own: The Fullers.
Even his name is a play on the tragedy that was his early life: a his name is a mockery of all that he is. "Barren Half-Ear" un-so-subtly hints at the un-so-subtle mixture of blood in his veins, and the mystery surrounding where he came from.
As a youth he was fascinated with the natural world around him. Often forgoing his lessons for a chance to climb the largest tree in the surrounding forest. Head cocked to the side just listening to a chorus of voices just out of reach.
Something always seemed to keep him out of the books, and yet he never fell far behind the other students. He could (usually) talk his teachers into extra allowances for his studies, or even fake having done them.
When Baryn turned 12 he began noticing that sometimes when he was being teased, punched, kicked or spit on that his vision would turn red and a haze, like sand on a hot day would appear before his eyes. The locals shunned him, the boys his age his constant tormentors. His foster parents kept him as a means to a paycheck. Spending his care stipend in Amn as soon as they could. It was during one of those nights, his house was empty so he headed to the forest to climb his tree and listen that his tormentors caught sight of him and decided to waylay him. They teased and taunted him, always staying just outside of his reach in a circle, darting in to push, punch, or kick him. He felt his anger building, scalding his palms with heat. when a rock caught him on his brow and left a bloody gash he let loose a scream of frustration only to see his tormentors, the dogs nearby, and even some adults a street or so over flee in sudden overwhelming terror. Hand held to his eye to staunch the bleeding, he took himself home as fast as he could but not before the other children, their parents, and the adults who fled had already begun to get word of what had happened and decided to confront the unexplained occurance with more even fear.
They gathered around the home he shared with his foster family in the early evening light. Torches were passed around to see by as an elder approached the door.
"Come out, young Barren. There have been some troubling tales from a few or Jordi's boys, as well as Hammond and Josek. My grandchildren also tell me of the dark, twisted things you do in the forest when shirking your duties. Come peacefully and there will be no need for unpleasantness. We'll keep you till morning and then send to the Duke."
He spoke calmly, even sounding friendly and sincere but as he glanced over his shoulder to the constable; Beryn caught a glint of light on a blade tucked behind the Elder's back. With a panicked grunt he slammed the door shut and dropped the bar into its socket.
He could hear grunts and pounding from the other side and then suddenly...silence. "Light it. We'll rebuild for the Fullers. Tell them nothing, an unfortunate accident. This demon cannot be allowed to escape." He heard a soft thud on the roof, followed by 3 more. A soft hissing sound filled the air while smoke began wafting down from the thatch above.
He knew stepping outside was imprisonment, maybe even death and staying inside was certainly not a good option. Snapping out of his fear he began packing a bag. He grabbed everything of value, the coinbox hidden behind the loose hearth stone that the Fullers thought he knew nothing about. The wine skins, food, the meager collection of jewelry, a pot for cooking, flint and a striking rod, changes of clothes, and a dozen other small necessities and placed them in a travel pack before hiding the pack under a large cauldron. He was going to wet a blanket with that mornings wash water and make a run for the woods through the flames engulfing the rear of the house but just as he reached for the blanket a loud crack sounded from above a beam struck him senseless. His body dropping to the floor amidst the burning flames.
He woke to a crunch and metal on metal whine. Someone was pushing in the black, charred remnants of the door. Just as all four of the town elders, the constable, and Jorik the Blacksmith pushed into the husk of the house, he surged awake. Standing in the ruins of his life, young Beryn was clothed only in ash. A fine tracing of red scales and golden, slit pupils caught light from the morning sun. The constable gave a shout and tumbled backwards into everyone, knocking them down.
Beryn took advantage of the confusion. Grabbing the pack from under the soot and ash covered pot he rushed out the rear entrance, the burned door crumbling under his touch and disappeared into the forest.
He pops up now and again throughout Faerun. A change of inflection in his name and his past crumbled away just like his old home. Gone is Barren Half-Ear, re-birthed from the ashes is Baryn HelFyr; Red Dragon Descendant, Sorcerer, and adventurer of no renown. Just how he likes it.
Well here is my wood elf fighter-archer, his name is Vincent or Vinc for short.
Vinc has never stood out from his person or in any crowd for that matterm. He talked pretty plane, and blantent about what he had to say.
After reaching maturity he learned the art of sword and bow and without much of a notice he left his home. Vinc went to explore and try to not be as bland and UN noticed.
Astonishingly he eventually caught the eye of this loose cannon of a women. Without really wanting to fall in love the got to know each other and they did.
She was crazy, adventurose, and alcoholic. When he was with her he dident feel so bland. Soon the married and tried too settle down.
However Recently she had to much to drink one night and in a drunken hallucination vanished from their new home.
Vinc is now searching for her wile some new friends drag him of a quest.
In looking for a better reason that she would have dissaperd than being too drunk one night if anyone wants too give suggestions.
Just two things she does love Vinc, and she can handle herself in a fight assuming she has a wepon so kiddnaping is Les likely but still possible.
Current game- Pelegos: Coastal Chaos
Game world- Pelegos, homebrew
Role- Player
Players- (Me) Druid/bard : Flower, Dancer of Curses ------- Fighter/rouge : Blackshanks, ruffian --------Sorcereress - Melenie, prodigy
Maybe she accidentally walked through a planar gate and now she's become the very drunk queen of some place...
Malwyn was born and raised in a small orc tribe in Cloak Wood, south of Candlekeep. When she was young, she always wanted to join the older orcs on their raids on visitors to the library. Eventually, she got her wish. She was still young, even by orc standards, when the tribe came across hard times. The chieftain ordered that they should attack the monastery itself. The day Malwyn got her axe and helmet she thought would be the proudest day of her life. It didn't last. The attack was a disaster. Only a few escaped, while the rest were wiped out by the monks. After the battle, one of the monks found Malwyn under a tipped over cart, scared and hurt. The monks debated what to do with the girl, and eventually decided to take her in. The first few months were... rough. She wouldn't let anyone get close, hiding in the corner every time someone entered her room, and attacking anyone who tried. Eventually, a firbolg monk managed to reach out to her. He brought her a book about the orcish pantheon, one of the few books written in orcish, and sat down to read it aloud. Over time, they grew closer. He taught her common, how to read, and how to write. When she came of appropriate age, she was welcomed into the order as one of their own. She excelled in battle training, though she vowed off bladed weapons after an incident in which she seriously wounded an elf during a training exercise. She struggled with the more theoretical parts, however. She managed to learn dwarfish, since it uses the same alphabet as orcish, and she got a relatively okay grasp of undercommon, but her. knowledge of most subjects was average at best.
One day, a group of Vistani visited the monastery. One vistana got curious about the young orc girl, and offered to read her fortune. Before leaving, she left her with a tarokka card. 2 of glyphs, the Missionary, which carried a remarkable similarity to the young monk. She took it as a sign that she was to travel the world, and after a few months on reading up on Faerûn (most of which she forgot), she said her goodbyes to her fellow monks, and went off.
"What do you mean I get disadvantage on persuasion?"
I don't know, Sneet, maybe because your argument is "Submit and become our pet"?
-Actual conversation in a game.