Barnuka's clan was not the largest clan on the mountains but that didn't mean that they were the weakest either. Their clan lived relatively low on the mountain compared to the other clans and this put them closer to the trails that the other races would travel. This resulted (rarely) in some trade, even the occasional sending of a fighter or two for some mercenary group. On one hunting trip for the clan, Barnuka's group came across a small avalanche that seemed to have occurred a few hours before. One of the hunter's noticed an arm was sticking out of the fallen snow and stones. They undug the arm and the body that was attached to it, along with three others. They were Dwarves but only one of them had survived the incident. The surviving Dwarf had broken his leg and was unconscious but they took him back to their village all the same. There he stayed at Barnuka's home to recover, Barnuka learned that his name was Vondal Ironfist. While he stayed at Barnuka's home he would cook, clean, chop wood, anything he could do to not be a burden to the clan or the family he stayed with while he healed. Voldal worked as best he could for them and also after the working hours would tell stories of his adventures he'd had with the friends he'd lost. Not many really listened to Voldal's stories aside from Barnuka. At the end of the work hours Barnuka and Voldal would sit and drink and talk, Barnuka even learned Dwarvish and a few dice games from Voldal. After a few months Voldal's leg was well enough to continue with his travels and bid farewell to the clan that had saved him (and by "bid farewell" I mean he challenge the whole village to a drinking competition). Not long after Voldal had left Barnuka had a fire lit in his heart, he had never really thought about the outside world, there was always something to do for the clan and such thoughts just never came up. Now that he knew there was more to the world than just snow, ice and stones, he wanted to see it
Draiden Vasser: Human Fighter plan to cross with a warlock
Draiden is the son of two cultist whom worshipped and served the daughter of Pale Night, Rhyxali the Queen of Shadows, sister of Graz'zt, Vucarik, and Zivorgian. The first eight years of his life were spent watching his parents perform dark rituals, till a holy order took a notice of the cults actions. After months of fleeing the order's divine wrath, Draiden's parents fearing for his safety left him in the care of his uncle. Draiden's uncle was a former soldier who had become disillusioned with the nobility he was charged with protecting. Since leaving the army his uncle had become the leader of a group of bandits. the next fifteen years draiden learned all kinds of combat and life skills from his uncle, and the former soldiers that made up the group of bandits. The group specifically targeted nobility due to how they had treated the soldiers when they were charged with protecting them. This eventually lead to the nobility petitioning the government to do something about it. Draiden's uncle was mortally wounded in a skirmish with the bounty hunters hired to dispose of the group. Without his uncle to hold the group together the bandits fell apart and Draiden was left without direction. He used his remaining funds to buy passage to get as far away from the area as possible. Draiden now finds himself lost on what to do next.
Could I reasonably create a goliath raised by mountain dwarves? He'd have an incredibly surly disposition, an incredible alcohol tolerance, and know the runes of entry for a few dwarven fortresses. He'd have a general directive towards staying outside (helped by his incredible cold resistance being raised in the mountains) because dwarven doors are far from accommodating peoples standing 7'^. Due to other dwarves being incredibly young for half a century he's been considered a "baby" which makes him a little reckless to prove he's not as child (despite making him seem childish despite results).He's a baby whom a dwarven warrior took in (when raiding a barbarian tribe's village that had been causing problems for the merchants traveling the mountain passes they were charged with protecting he couldn't bring himself to slaughter a baby) and raised as his own. His "dad" lost a son a few years beforehand, and it had ripped his marriage apart. Growing up into a hulking monster to most of the other children he was kinda ostracized by the kids, and a "savage" to most adults. Maturing quickly he began accompanying a patrolling unit that guarded a huge portion of the mountain. He got alot of fighting experience monsters/bandits, but being so "young" he'd be treated like a child and looked down on despite his stature. Lol.
What class and skills would you suggest in this instance?
A goliath with dwarven tattoos sounds pretty cool to me.
Eigir Runilsson of the Blackcoats of Nalgos (lv3 dwarf samurai)
Runil Runiksson was an esteemed bodyguard to the king Ieredar I Hammerhand, the first Hammerhand king of Nalgos after Clan Orefist was extinguished in the Long Winter War.
Followingin his father's footsteps, Eigir sought a place among the Blackcoats, the kingsguard of Nalgos, and got it in time. Trials and tribulations of military feats turned to long days of idle watchfulness, however, as after the war there wasn't much beyond ceremony for the kingsguard to do.
Everything changed for Eigir when during a hunting trip Ylgi Hammerhand, son of the king, fell to hobgoblin arrows along with Eigir's companions. Eigir hunted the assailants for days but, eventually, was forced to return to Nalgos alone and ashamed. Eigir could not long bear the shame his failure cast upon his clan, and quit the Emerald Mountain to find and destroy the hobgoblins that had robbed him of his friend and his honour.
This character idea was something that inspired me to do when I decided to mix some FFXIV Astrologian Themes onto a Divination Wizard.
(Art by Yan Chuan)
Character Name: Francesca Class: 1st Level Wizard Race: Variant Human (Observant Feat) 8/14/14/17/10/12 Stat
Francesca is a bastard child of a prominent noble family that was spirited away by one of her mother's trusted servants at her request. This servant, Gideon, made plans to join with a traveling circus group in order to mask Francesca's existence from the eyes of any rival families that may use her for leverage. Growing up in the circus troupe Francesca found a calling in the acrobatic side of entertainment and with the instruction of the senior performers has fine tuned her skills to performance level.
Francesca also found the concept of Tarot Cards and Divination to be fascinating, often spending time with the fortune teller and watching their work. As the years went by and she grew older, more talented, and often sought after by Lords and sometimes Ladies of the court, the fortune teller saw something in one of their visions and foretold great destiny within Francesca. On her 23rd name-day, the fortune teller decided to give Francesca a small glowing orb that would transform into a fascinating object called a Planisphere, a device capable of holding Fate cards, and instructed the young woman in the arcane arts.
He is one of the most powerful courtiers in the city, but has never set foot in a salon, party, or royal home. He wears clothing of the finest make, but no tailor would dare utter his name in polite company. He enforces the law, just not your law.
Silas (nicknamed Lord Twist) is the personal magistrate of the head of the Thieves Guild, appointed to seek out the truth in matters too murky and dangerous to be left to chance. A warlock bound to Moloch, Twist acts as peacemaker among the loyal criminals, and judge and occasional executioner to the rest. His familiar, an imp, acts as his eyes and ears, and no matter is beneath his attentions.
Your guy's backstories makes me feel like I put in no where near the effort I should into writing my characters backstories. I only have ever made two characters but their backstories are a little larger than a paragraph, and mostly set up who they are not much else. Maybe its just that both my characters are not from where the campaign is taking place so its not like much stuff can be reused. I also want my characters to be treated based on who they are and not who they were. Maybe its the fact that I usually focus on other people and don't focus on my self very often and that aspect of me carries over unconsciously when I go to write my characters backstories.
Ignak never knew his father. He spent his early childhood living in the port district ghetto with his mother, under the thumb of the thieve's guild. At a young age Ignak was drawn to the wrong side of the law, the promise of freedom through easy coin irresistible weighed against the lax threat of the city guard.
Soon, the young goblin got endebted to some thugs, who ordered a beating on his mother as a scare tactic. The beating got out of hand, however, and Ignak's mother was killed during the assault. In his grief, the youth threw himself head first into Guild business, soon out of his depth with increasingly challenging jobs. He eased the stress of a hard life on the streets with intoxicants, caring little for his own well-being, yearning only for status among the thieves.
Some years into this spiralling life style, Ignak was caught by the city guard during a burglary and they nearly killed him, mutilating him with their halberds. With the last of his strength, the goblin sought refuge in the Cathedral of a Thousand Gods. He dragged himself, beaten and bloodied, through the aisles, until he finally collapsed (by chance, or led by fate) before the shrine of Tyche, the goddes of fortune. There, he was happened upon by the high priestess Fon Relgia, who nursed him to health, took him under her wing and taught him in the ways of Tyche. For the longest while, Ignak's life had a direction towards a future with some hope of a better life.
You really only need one or two paragraphs for a backstory to be fair. The rest of it can be worked on with your DM to flesh it out into their world. As a DM myself I would get pages and pages of backstory on someone only for them to die immediately, usually throwing those pages of backstory out the window.
I always wanted to make a Fremen warrior from Dune....
Do'ghul Fuad al-Sayafa, son of Dakir, Shaman of the Fallow Wastes
Earth Genasi/ Druid of the Land- Desert/ Outlander
He was born within the city caves of the holy mesa, Shalud, during an epic sandstorm which had lasted a fortnight. Such storms had been known as a good omen and a prophetic sign that the tribe would be blessed with a child of the sand. Such an occurrence was rare but not unheard of. As predicted by the elders, he had been born of land and when looking closely at him, one could sometimes see actual sand falling from his form. He was given the name of the seed of the Yotin tree, Do’ghul. that which can survive in the deep playa of the Funeral Plains.
At the age of 13, he performed the rite of adulthood and was cast out into the desert. This was a difficult test and was required of all youths. He was to survive 5 days and to bring back a Kruthik claw of a fresh kill. Upon survival and return, The claw would then be crafted into a weapon that would be his bond with the desert and show his worth within the tribe. It was on the Plain of Shards he had made his stand, trapping and killing an adult Kruthik after leading it away from its hive. For the remaining days he lived off the carcass meat he had taken with him and took refuge from the storms in the Amber Steppes. Upon his return, he was accepted into the tribe as an adult and trained as a shaman warrior like his father before him, and his father before him.
As he grew, he heard the old stories and had seen the carvings in the sandstone temples of oceans as far as the eye could see and of strange peoples from far away green lands. Because the tribe knew nothing of the outside world, he stood before the council of Elders and asked for their blessing to seek out knowledge of the New World and to bring it back to his people. They agreed and had him taken on a Sandsail Skiff to the deep desert, the edge of their known world and the farthest anyone would dare to travel.He watched and waved goodbye to the Sandsail as it disappeared into the sunset over the dunes. Survival meant night travel on foot over the Sandsea. In taking these first steps in the cold sand, he had realized this was the farthest his tribe had ever traveled from the Holy Mesa. How far would this journey to the New World and all its wonders take him?
Ritualistic Dagger: Spell focus made from Insectoid chitin claw of a Kruthik
Spellbook: engraved beads of Obsidian, Opal, Turquoise and Tungsten wrapped around my forearms
Beastshapes: Desert only
Feats: Resilient - Constitution
Spells: Mold Earth, Magic Stone (sand), Dust Devil, Warding Wind
Amriel The Leper Knight. He is also known as the Almsgiver and the Purifier of Roads
Assimar/ Paladin- Order of Heroism/ Haunted one
I did not choose this path, but it is mine to walk.
It began when my daughter allowed the diseased black goat into the farm. It had come from the road, barely able to walk with rotting flesh and ridden with contagion. She was always helping found strays and hurt animals from the road but this one was different. It did not eat nor drink and sat in the middle of the farm. Possibly resting, or waiting for the inevitable to happen or something else. Later that day, by the time she had told us of the sick goat, Shawna and I had noticed a quiet stillness while feeding the horses. No bird calls or insects sounds, only silence. I scolded her for taking in another animal for fear of the rest of the livestock and set out to find it. It was getting dark and Shawna took Lina inside for the night. Darkness had fallen quicker than normal that evening and in the stillness of the night, I could not find the black goat.
That night I had a restless sleep with horrific dreams and awoke feeling not well. After Walking outside to meet the continued stillness of the morning, I found all the livestock dead in the fields, pigs dead in the pens and even the chicken laid motionless in their coop. I ran into the house to Lina’s room fearing the worst. When I opened the door, I found Shawna holding a very sick Lina. Both to my horror were beginning to show signs of sickness and flesh rot similar to the other farm animals. “We must leave here quickly and find help in town!” Gathering our clothes and not much else, we quickly escaped down the road by foot after finding the horses dead as well. I remember looking back only to notice in the distance, the black goat sitting in middle of the field surrounded by corpses, watching and bleating at us. It was the last I ever saw of our home.
In Dawn Garden, the capital of Marothell, we sought out the physicians of Thoth to help us. They told us that it was a kind of magical plague similar to the disease Leprosy but was resistant to their treatments. Fearing the spread of the disease we were shunned and cast out of the Thoth infirmary. We were told to travel to a hospital within the monastery of the House of the Broken God. It was there that the clerics of Ilmater care for a leper sanctuary known as a place of refuge and treatment. With no other choice, we were given food and Leper bells to ring as a warning for all on the long journey to the House of the Broken God. The pilgrimage was long and hard and few would help us on the road due to our condition. Even the bandits let us pass. It was on the road where Lina had perished. She was laid to rest under a small stone burial cairn on the side of the road.
Upon arrival we were treated as best they could. Shawna soon after succumbed to the strange illness. Overwhelmed with great sorrow, I had wept tears of blood and showed signs of the Stigmata of Ilmater, bleeding from the eyes, wrists and ankles. Our caretakers, The knights of The Holy Warriors of Suffering, saw this and told me that I had been chosen by the god for a higher purpose, for I had suffered greatly. For within the Order of Holy Warriors of Suffering there was a small faction of zealots known as the Order of Leper Knights (or Plague Knights by some). Like The Holy Warriors, who were known to undertake various dangerous missions and expeditions to cull monstrosities of the land, the Leper Knights fought recklessly with the courage of men with nothing to lose. Sometimes taking suicide missions against great odds anchored by a holy purpose. To be a Leper Knight is to be a champion of the oppressed, a pilgrim of the trenches, a doctor of the hopeless, and a vangard of the most holy and pious.
Witnessing this miracle of blood as a sign and feeling a deep burden of guilt that my neglect had caused the death of my family, I accepted the invitation and Ilmater into my life hoping for salvation. I was told my condition was enough to enter the Order of Leper Knights. But for my first Suffering to test my piety, I had taken the Sacament of the Sacred Affiction and accepted the disease for the remaining time in this life, refusing further treatment. The time is now to act and to rid the world of evils greater than myself.
Appearance: He wears a tattered tabard over a suit of rusty armor with streaks of rust and blood coming from his helmet eye slits. He carries a processional standard of Ilmater (holy symbol) that is also a halberd. During his Radiant Soul transformation, he cries blood and bleeds from his wrists and ankles. He does not have the ability to fly.
Flaws: It is his daily ritual to pray and repent every morning at dawn to Ilmater. (Flagellates himself with a thorny switch from my wife’s bouquet of funerary flowers for 1D4 damage) He always hides his disfigured face behind an iron mask or helmet to spare others from his unsettling condition.
My DM and I agreed to this degenerative disease game mechanic as levels advance to add to the urgency of his limited time on this plane.
Curse of The Black Goat
Level 3 - Immune to Disease - As your body steels itself against diseases, your decision to internalize your ailment causes a new torment, and your body become exhausted as it continuously tries to heal a disease you've sworn to keep. The best relief you've found comes with penitent flagellation, redirecting your body's restorative powers. (Take 1 level of exhaustion each morning; can only be removed with time spent in prayer and flogging)
Level 6 - Aura of Protection - Your growing power now inspires your allies in battle, making it easier for them to act heroically as well. However, should when they falter it reminds you of the dark trek for help and those loved ones you were not able to save. The curse and your remorse leave you disoriented as you struggle to maintain a grasp on reality. (When a player within your Aura of Protection fails a save, you have disadvantage on your next attack or skill check)
Level 10 - Aura of Courage - As you grow more powerful, the disease seems to find new ways to thrive within you. The symptoms ravage your outward appearance, causing you to bleed painlessly and the timbre of your voice changes with abyssal undertones. Your closest allies have inured themselves to this and are unable to be frightened because they cannot conceive of anything more frightful than you. Strangers, however, have no such resistance and find themselves very wary of your instructions (Disadvantage on all Persuasion checks)
Level 14 - Cleansing Touch - The Curse of the Black Goat prevents you from completely obliterating the spell effects. You're able to end the effects on your friends and allies, but each time it invigorates the magic that powers the curse, causing it to surge within you. (Suffer 1 level of exhaustion per use of Cleansing Touch)
Magdhor is a half-orc paladin. He is a twenty-eight year man who is six feet and 7 inches and weighs two hundred pounds. He has a black afro and has dark brown eyes. He has dark green skin and a beard.
Magdhor was born and raised by his single mother. He never knew his father but that never truly bother him. When he was just ten years old, he was saved by a paladin from an undead monster. Ever since that day Magdhor wanted to be a paladin just like the man who saved him. He left home at the age of sixteen with mother’s blessing and sought out on how to become a paladin. As if faith was guiding him he met the same man who rescues him from six years ago and he took Magdhor as an apprentice teaching him the ways of the paladin, to help those in need and to smite the wicked. For ten years Magdhor trained with his master resulting him becoming stronger and wiser. However when he was twenty-six, a horrible incident occurred that changed his life forever. Magdho and his master were spending the night in a small village until a horde of undead led by a necromancer attack the village. No one was spared from the massacre. Magdhor and his master tried to fight the horde but were overwhelmed. In his final moments Magdhor’s master cast a spell on Magdhor to protect him. Magdhor last image before passing out was his master being killed by the necromancer. When Magdhor awoke, all that was left of the village were dead bodies but strangely there was no sign of his master’s body. From that day on Magdhor swore to his deity that he will bring justice for these villagers and destroy the wicked necromance for what has been done. It has been two years and he has heard rumors of the undead rising in remote places, he can only hope and pray that another tragedy wouldn’t happen again.
Magdhor is what you best described as a gentle giant, he looks big but in fact he is quite sweet. He is a man of justice and fairness and hates to see evil prosper. Him and his master both swore oaths to their deity to protect and fight evil in all of it’s forms. Magdhor doesn’t like to talk but when a conflict is brewing he raise up to calm it down. While traveling with his master Magdhor learn how to smith and to make medicine. His two biggest goals in life for now his finding and destroying the necromancer and finding a wife. He has a mother, two aunts,a grandfather, an uncle and three cousins, two half-orc girls and one adopted human boy
Sardan Thy’ula has been a weapon-smith for a few years when he met the woman who would become his wife. Emilia Hawk had met Sardan while setting up her shop. The two had been friendly for a few years before Sardan finally asked her to marry him. A proposal she happily accepted. A few years had gone by before Emilia gave birth to their daughter. Little Kall’ia had quickly become the apple of her parents’ eye. When her mother wasn’t running the shop, or her father working in the forge, they would be playing and spoiling their little girl. From the time she was six to her tenth birthday, her mother taught her how to sing and a little bit about running the shop. What helped was how cute the little girl was. This brought in all kinds of customers. The young half-elf was more than happy to help her mother around the shop and she as soon helping customers find what they needed. The only part she didn’t deal with was her father’s forge. Sardan wanted to keep his daughter away from all of the weaponry he mad as well as the roaring fire he used. This only lasted up to her sixteenth birthday. Kall’ia had finally convinced her father to show her how he ran the forge. To his surprise, his little girl picked up the basics incredibly fast. Another three years went by and Kall’ia had taken over the ship for her mother, letting Emilia rest and enjoy her older years. Sardan was still in his prime. No surprise there considering his elvish bloodline.
One day, while working in her parents’ shop, Kall’ia met an unusual man. He had bright red eyes and Onyx black, shoulder-length hair. He introduced himself as Lord Darious LaCroiux. This was a name that the young woman did not recognize. Still, she greeted him properly and asked how she could help him. To which he replied that he was looking for Sardan. Tales of the elf’s work had reached him and he wished to commission a ceremonial rapier. With this, Kall’ia led the man to her father’s forge. She then stood by quietly and watched as the two men talked. Darious promised her father a hefty amount of coin as well as a gift if the rapier was prepared for pick up in three days. This was easy enough to do, so Sardan agreed. Before Darious left, fed father drew a full scale version of the blade and showed it to the lord. With a couple critiques, the design was ready to be forged. Darious walked back to the main part of the shop with Kall’ia, purchased a few things and then left. The next three days went by quickly and soon enough, she he nobleman had returned. Sardan had met him in the shop this time and presented the finished blade to Darious. It was an exceptionally designed weapon. The balance was perfect and it seemed as if the rapier could easily be treated as an extension of one’s arm. Needless to say, Darious was impressed. And as promised, he paid well. The male snapped his fingers and a medium size chest and as brought inside. On the front was what looked like a symbol for some deity. A moon with a pair of smirking lips topped by a seven pointed crown. Sardan leaned down and slowly opened the chest. Inside was more gold than he or his family had ever seen before. While her father and mother were distracted by the small mound of gold they were just given, Kall’ia felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Darious. “I did promise a gift as well as coin. But this gift is for you alone.” With that, the lord handed Kall’ia a small statuette of some goddess. “She has taken a liking to you Kall’ia.” Before she could ask what he meant, the young half-elf hear another voice in her ear. One it seemed onl;y she could hear. It was feminine in nature, but deeper than her or her mother’s voice. “Ah so you are Kall’ia. I have been searching for someone like you.” Startled, she looked at Darious. The man simply smiled before thanking her father again and taking his leave.
After he and his men left, she showed her parents the figure she was given. On its base was the same symbol that was on the chest. “Why don’t you show me what crafting skills you have Kall’ia. If they are worthy, I will grant you another gift.” There was that voice again. Unsure of what to do, the young half-elf asked her father if she could use the forge for a bit. There was something compelling her to do as this mysterious voice had asked. Still stunned and distracted by the small fortune sitting in front of him, Sardan nodded and waved her off. Young Kall’ia headed into the forge, picked up an ingot of iron and began to work. She was normally focused on when working in the forge, but today she was abnormally focused on what she was doing. Several hours passed by as they girl worked. Finally she took a step back and wiped the sweat from her brow. Laying on the table in front of her was a finely crafted shortsword. It wasn’t complete yet, but whatever entity was watching still seemed impressed. Over the next day, Kall’ia would put the finishing touches to the blade before awkwardly presenting it to this voice. “Such wonderful craftsmanship. You are indeed worthy of this gift.” As the voice spoke again, a woman appeared next to the half-elf. She was tall. Easily a foot taller than Kall’ia was. Her pale white skin contrasted the pitch black hair that ran to the middle of her back. And those Brilliant blue eyes seemed to pierce right through the young girl. Without words needing to be spoken, Kall’ia knew who this was. Nocticula reached out and took the blade from the girl and held it up. She examined every inch of it, even checked it’s balance. There were some imperfections and the balance was a little off, but that was to be expected from one as young as Kall’ia. “A wonderful blade, child. It is indeed worthy of my boon.” The Goddess said before reaching over and placing a hand on the girl’s head. A flash of bright light blinded the girl for a moment. As her vision cleared, Nocticula was gone and the shortsword lay on the workbench in front of her.
“Use this gift wisely, child. For you have been chosen as my champion.” Again Nocticula’s voice rang in the girl’s ears. “What? What gifts? I don’t understa-” As Kall’a spoke, she felt a surge in her body. It was something she had never felt before. Without even thinking, the girl held up her hand and muttered a few words. A burst of light sprang from her fingertips and caused the girl to yell. Her father came running in, only to stop and stare at his daughter. “Poppa. I don’t - What’s going on?” She was scared, that was clear. Yet her father didn’t speak. Emilia entered soon after and gasped. What was wrong with them? It was making her freak out even more. As she went to walk toward them, Kall’ia caught a look at her reflection in one of the shields her father had made. This caused her to yell again before running over to it. The young half-elf’s hair had gone from the black it usually was to almost a light pink in color. Had she done this? Or was this part of the gift given to her by Nocticula. A throaty chuckle echoed in the room as Nocticula appeared once more. Both of Kall’ia’s parents took a couple of steps back while this woman walked over to their daughter. “Calm down child. You have not been harmed. I simply prefer it when my champions
. I will give you one warning. If you wish to continue to use my gifts, then I will need you to craft something once a day. Or simply speak my name in a prayer. Farewell for now child, I may return from time to time.” With that, Nocticula left the three of them again. Once the shock had gone away, it was replaced by anger. How could someone force something like this on her? She was the daughter of a merchant and a blacksmith? Why did she need all of this weight on her shoulders? Yet here she was, stuck with this crazy hair color that is sure to get her noticed in ways she would prefer not to be. So she did the one thing she could do and refused to do any of what that damned goddess told her to do. She never prayed to her, not crafted anything in her name. This lasted about three years.
Then, one day, while Kall’ia was working in the shop, she heard that voice again. It had been some time since she last heard it. “Do you not like my gifts child?” Nocticula appeared again as she spoke. Kall’ia refused to acknowledge that she was there. To which the goddess simply chuckled. “You can fight this fate all you want, child, but it will catch up to you. These gifts can keep your family safe.” With that, she disappeared and left Kall’ia standing alone in the shop. Even with those words, the half-elf woman refused to do ask Nocticula had asked her to do. That was, until one night, when someone tried to rob the store. Sardan had caught the thief in the act and had tried to subdue him. Hearing the scuffle, Kall’ia had ran over to see what was going on. Without thinking, she reached for that gift that Nocticula had given her, but could not feel it. So she did the only other thing she could think of and called for guards. They had arrived a moment too late as the thief cut Sardan across the shoulder and took off into the night. It was because of that, that Kall’ia began to do as that damned goddess had asked and began to pray to her once a night. She would even craft small statuettes in Nocticula’s appearance. She still didn’t like it, but if the abilities could keep her family safe, then she would put up with it. Another four years had gone by and Kall’ia was now the owner of the shop, her parents started. Sardan and Emilia Still lived close by and would stop by every now and again to help their daughter out. Yet, even with the shop being profitable as it was, Kall’ia knew she would have to leave eventually. Nocticula would remind her of that
idk about a backstory...but I'm making a tortle sorcerer wild magic sorcerer who's got a curse slowly turning him into an evil human....physical contact makes the curse grow and curses someone else randomly based on what they roll (kinda like a tortle sips I guess) now I'm just trying to think of a backstory and what Items I need (besides a simple weapon because a turtle and a quatrestaff is a match made in heaven...and sorcery adds to that) and he has minus 3 initiative so....he's a slow guy with an AC of 17 yay :)........the same as the highest initiative he can get :(
Race: Rock Gnome (note: not a race native to this world/dimension-- this wasn't entirely intentional, I just wanted to play a gnome wizard, but when the DM informed me of this-- and gave me permission to play one anyway--, it actually acted kind of as a guiding factor in her backstory)
Class/Subclass: Wizard, School of Transmutation
Age: 26 by her best estimate, but could be anywhere from 24-27ish; according to "Mardnab's" very official-looking paperwork, she's 25
Summary Background: mix of Urchin/Charlatan/arguably Sage, with as many friends as the average Hermit
Callybon ended up in this world from a very young age with no idea how it happened-- if she was old enough to remember going through the process, she's long since forgotten it by now.
She had to learn to survive on her own in the city from a very young age and ended up doing so through a combination of (1) small size (making it easier to flee pursuers and squeeze through gaps they could never fit through), (2) charm, (3) her wits, and (4) just plain luck. While other young ragamuffins in the city took up pickpocketing as a profession, Callybon preferred running cons in the form of pawning off junk on unsuspecting strangers and charging them for it. She got to be quite good at it, too.
Magic always held a place of fascination in her heart. She learned to read at a young age from a combination of eavesdropping/spying on the lessons of a certain upper-middle-class merchant's children, whose tutor insisted that fresh air was good for young minds and thus held all lessons outside, and independently studying/looking at the few books she could get her hands on in her own time. Her favorite stories involved magic, in some form or other: she particularly liked a series of short stories about a merchant of magic items who would always warn her customers not to abuse them for selfish purposes. Of course, the customer would inevitably do so and end up creating bigger problems, which the merchant would then have to roll up her sleeves and fix with more magic (often using spells quite creatively to do so).
One day, when Callybon was about eleven or twelve years old, she was hawking her latest faulty goods (including a Miraculous Age-Removing Cream, a Spider-Warding Charm (to protect your house from spiders), and a batch of Actually Authentic Love Potions) when a strange man came up to her and purchased all her goods, only to whack her hands with a quarterstaff and scold her for tricking customers in the next instant. The man then offered to teach little Cally how to wield real magic so that she wouldn't have to lie about her goods and could make an honest penny for herself.
It... kind of worked, just not as the man had intended. Callybon discovered a natural propensity for crafting small clockwork devices, which actually worked, and this made her very happy for the time being. Of course, this was a far cry from actual magic.
The man tried in numerous ways to teach Callybon how to cast spells according to the methods used by himself and other magic users, but his efforts were all for naught. The little gnome became frustrated often, insisting that she just didn't get it and she'd never be a real mage of any kind, but her mentor treated her with patience and kindness, offering smiles and reminding her of how creative her fake magic items had been whenever she was about to give up (and the occasional slap on the wrist if he caught her slipping back into her old scamming habits).
After a time, her mentor announced that it was time for him to go help others and, after giving her a strange book as a parting gift, took his leave, with a final stern reminder not to deceive others.
...She did try to heed his last words to her. With her gnomish tinkering, Callybon could craft legitimate clockwork toys for people to buy, and even when the costs of materials were factored in, this was enough for her to make a living for a while.
The problem? She was bored.
See, Callybon only knew how to craft three general things well enough that she could sell them to customers, and none of them were anywhere near as glorious as the fake goods she used to pawn off on others. What's more, she missed the rush of a successful con; she missed the excitement of getting one over on someone, especially if the "someone" in question was someone rich and powerful.
She needed some intellectual stimulation in her life, and she wanted to feel like she was doing something more useful in the world-- like making a statement against the upper classes that preyed on the city's weak and unfortunate-- than just making little clockwork toys for children. So she went back into scamming, especially of wealthy targets, and even came up with a convenient fake name and identity for herself.
To unsuspecting customers, she introduces herself as Mardnab Nopenstallen. Of course, she is the only gnome in existence (as far as she knows) in this world, but she likes the security of having a false identity anyway.
As when she was a child, her favorite con is making useless stuff that looks cool with magic and convincing people it's worth their money. As might be expected, this necessitates a lot of traveling once someone finds out she's a fraud, so she has a good reason to go adventuring.
Her fascination with magic hasn't faded over time. She still has the book her mentor gave her when she was a child; it's one of her few prized possessions. With every new town and city she stops by, she scrounges up what information she can on magic and fervently jots down notes in her own personal journal, hoping one day she'll discover the secret to utilizing such spells herself.
Spoiler: She does.
Her character sheet also includes a lengthy "Miscellaneous" section of personality quirks and so on. I still add to it when I think of something, and I still think of things to add on occasion.
So, I've never really gone all Edgelord for a character, figured I'd make one for the hell of it. I actually can't wait to play him now! Here's the backstory for Korgoth Sognos, a Kalashtar Oathbreaker Paladin/Fighter.
Korgoth Sognos was once a Knight of the Roseblade, an order of highly-trained soldiers that protected Lord Thorne, a high-ranking duke, and his lands. Korgoth led a battalion of soldiers, and was well-loved by them and the duke for his honor and bravery. He was also unique, because he had been born a Kalashtar, a compound race created from the union of humanity and renegade spirits from the plane of dreams - spirits called quori. As both a knight and a Kalashtar, he chose to become a Paladin and a follower of Sanctuary, the goddess of dreams. Korgoth was happy and content in his life, protecting others and keeping the land safe. He had even fallen in love with another knight, Palin, who also served Lord Thorne, and who passionately returned Korgoth's affections.
One night, Korgoth began having terrible visions while he slept, in which he seemed to receive messages from Sanctuary herself warning him that a great evil was rising around him, and that he could not trust those nearest to him. Brushing off the visions, paranoia nevertheless began to creep into his mind. The visions continued night after night, growing darker, with Sanctuary urging him to smite this evil wherever it may be found, even in his own men and lord. The paranoia began to grow, until Korgoth was unable to distinguish friend from foe. After a particularly bad night, Korgoth was driven to do the unthinkable. Believing he was smiting fiends intent on destroying his master and friends, the paladin swept through the castle, destroying any who got in his path. Servants, knights, and even Lord Thorne himself were unable to stand against Korgoth's righteous fury.
When he finally came to his senses, Kor found himself holding Palin's broken body in the great hall, weeping. As he wept, a figure appeared in flames before him, a demon. The fiend, who called himself Yslrawg, cackled in glee as he revealed that it was he, in service to his master, who had sent Korgoth the visions, posing as Sanctuary, and turned him against his brothers and sisters in arms. It had all been a game amongst the gods, with the knight an unwitting pawn. The demon said that it was Sanctuary's move, then disappeared in a cloud of ash and sulfur, cackling madly.
The fury Korgoth felt before paled in comparison to the anger that now rose within him. He cursed the gods, especially Sanctuary, for treating mortals with such flippant disdain. He renounced his Paladin oath, swearing vengeance on the demon, his "master", and the rest of the gods, vowing to never again be a puppet to any creature. With the breaking of his oath and the force of his rage, his shining silver armor turned the color of the blood draining from his lover's corpse, and the emblem of the Roseblade on his chest, once a symbol of hope and justice, turned as black and cold as the Abyss itself. Korgoth fled the castle and the land, never looking back, his vengeance now the only passion burning within his heart.
A tall, muscular man, Korgoth is an imposing presence, made even more so by the blood-red armor he wears, with the ice-cold-to-the-touch emblem of a Roseblade on his chest. He has shaggy black hair, sharp features, and steel grey eyes that seem to have flecks of hellfire in them. He rides a large, pure white, fey warhorse named Omen, and is followed by an undead retainer on an equally undead horse. Korgoth is handsome, but doesn't look like he's smiled with joy in years, giving him a more haggard appearance, and in fact looks uninviting most of the time. Anger flashes behind his eyes, warning those who would challenge him to think twice or risk their very lives. He carries no shield, just a large cursed great sword of vengeance called the Black Rose, made of a dull black metal that reflects no light.
this is my backstory for my human wizard pc i'd like to see some feedback on it.
Blazzmo the wise is a human wizard at the ripe age of 128. he lives in a small cottage on the top of a hill in the countryside. to the left of the hill is a large dense magical forest, and to the right of the hill is a small town which he calls his home town. a long time ago a band of different fantasy creatures mostly wood eleve and a race of intelligent werewolves came to the forest and made it their home and some time later they became druids and declared the forest to be "sacred ground" and made themselves its guardians. this proved to be a nuisance to blazzmo as he needs to cut down trees for firewood for the winter months so when he would go to chop one of the trees down he would be continually pestered by groups of the guardians preaching to him about how all nature is precious and is not to be disturbed by outsiders. he, obviously not caring continued to chop firewood for winter also, during spring he would uproot weeds and other small plants at the forest's edge to spite them because they were becoming annoying for him. they became so fed up with him doing this that they tried to capture him and put him on trial for his crimes against the forest, but since he knows firebolt he was able to easily escape their wood and vine traps however what he could not escape was the werewolves attempting to ransack his house during the night where he proceeds to drive them off his property by shooting at them with a blunderbuss which he keeps with him for such occasions doing this brings him great amusement because it's the only time when he can actually shoot at the quote "fuzzy Mongrels" as he affectionately calls them. over in his home town though, a different problem was arising. gangs of warlocks were sneaking into the town to perform their rituals like summoning demons placing curses on people and other unholy acts. this pissed off Blazzmo so much that he made it his duty to stop their operations and can be seen doing battle with the warlocks and driving them out of the town. through these actions against the warlocks, he is now known as the towns hero which he likes to brag about to whoever chooses to listen to his ramblings. he practiced alchemy in his cottage and cooks up odd and bazarly situational potions with weird effects like turning stones into tree frogs or one that could turn sand into saltwater. he generally likes to live a secluded life but has gone on many adventures over his lifetime and if something threatens him or his home town he will defend it with his life. he may be old and grouchy and does stupid things a lot of the time but what little things that he does care about he is extremely devoted to it and will always protect it albeit reluctantly.
How is a human able to live to 128? If he were a level 15-20 wizard, I could buy it and simply assume he's using magic to extend his life. However, I'm not given any indication of how powerful a wizard he is. As a PC I'm assuming he's starting at level 1, but if not then this might not be an issue.
Secondly, "he generally likes to live a secluded life but has gone on many adventures" is contradictory. You'll need to do more work to reconcile this. Was he more adventurous in the past and in his old age prefers to stay in one place?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"We're the perfect combination of expendable and unkillable!"
he has gone on a few different adventures in his youth but now in his old age prefers the quiet life. but if he ever is needed he will rise to the occasion albeit reluctantly.
btw here is the sheet for him: ddb.ac/characters/20414996/673TGn
Full Name: Barnuka Strongbrew Katho-Olavi
Class: Barbarian
Race: Goliath
Barnuka's clan was not the largest clan on the mountains but that didn't mean that they were the weakest either. Their clan lived relatively low on the mountain compared to the other clans and this put them closer to the trails that the other races would travel. This resulted (rarely) in some trade, even the occasional sending of a fighter or two for some mercenary group. On one hunting trip for the clan, Barnuka's group came across a small avalanche that seemed to have occurred a few hours before. One of the hunter's noticed an arm was sticking out of the fallen snow and stones. They undug the arm and the body that was attached to it, along with three others. They were Dwarves but only one of them had survived the incident. The surviving Dwarf had broken his leg and was unconscious but they took him back to their village all the same. There he stayed at Barnuka's home to recover, Barnuka learned that his name was Vondal Ironfist. While he stayed at Barnuka's home he would cook, clean, chop wood, anything he could do to not be a burden to the clan or the family he stayed with while he healed. Voldal worked as best he could for them and also after the working hours would tell stories of his adventures he'd had with the friends he'd lost. Not many really listened to Voldal's stories aside from Barnuka. At the end of the work hours Barnuka and Voldal would sit and drink and talk, Barnuka even learned Dwarvish and a few dice games from Voldal. After a few months Voldal's leg was well enough to continue with his travels and bid farewell to the clan that had saved him (and by "bid farewell" I mean he challenge the whole village to a drinking competition). Not long after Voldal had left Barnuka had a fire lit in his heart, he had never really thought about the outside world, there was always something to do for the clan and such thoughts just never came up. Now that he knew there was more to the world than just snow, ice and stones, he wanted to see it
Draiden Vasser: Human Fighter plan to cross with a warlock
Draiden is the son of two cultist whom worshipped and served the daughter of Pale Night, Rhyxali the Queen of Shadows, sister of Graz'zt, Vucarik, and Zivorgian. The first eight years of his life were spent watching his parents perform dark rituals, till a holy order took a notice of the cults actions. After months of fleeing the order's divine wrath, Draiden's parents fearing for his safety left him in the care of his uncle. Draiden's uncle was a former soldier who had become disillusioned with the nobility he was charged with protecting. Since leaving the army his uncle had become the leader of a group of bandits. the next fifteen years draiden learned all kinds of combat and life skills from his uncle, and the former soldiers that made up the group of bandits. The group specifically targeted nobility due to how they had treated the soldiers when they were charged with protecting them. This eventually lead to the nobility petitioning the government to do something about it. Draiden's uncle was mortally wounded in a skirmish with the bounty hunters hired to dispose of the group. Without his uncle to hold the group together the bandits fell apart and Draiden was left without direction. He used his remaining funds to buy passage to get as far away from the area as possible. Draiden now finds himself lost on what to do next.
Could I reasonably create a goliath raised by mountain dwarves? He'd have an incredibly surly disposition, an incredible alcohol tolerance, and know the runes of entry for a few dwarven fortresses. He'd have a general directive towards staying outside (helped by his incredible cold resistance being raised in the mountains) because dwarven doors are far from accommodating peoples standing 7'^. Due to other dwarves being incredibly young for half a century he's been considered a "baby" which makes him a little reckless to prove he's not as child (despite making him seem childish despite results).He's a baby whom a dwarven warrior took in (when raiding a barbarian tribe's village that had been causing problems for the merchants traveling the mountain passes they were charged with protecting he couldn't bring himself to slaughter a baby) and raised as his own. His "dad" lost a son a few years beforehand, and it had ripped his marriage apart. Growing up into a hulking monster to most of the other children he was kinda ostracized by the kids, and a "savage" to most adults. Maturing quickly he began accompanying a patrolling unit that guarded a huge portion of the mountain. He got alot of fighting experience monsters/bandits, but being so "young" he'd be treated like a child and looked down on despite his stature. Lol.
What class and skills would you suggest in this instance?
A goliath with dwarven tattoos sounds pretty cool to me.
Eigir Runilsson of the Blackcoats of Nalgos (lv3 dwarf samurai)
Runil Runiksson was an esteemed bodyguard to the king Ieredar I Hammerhand, the first Hammerhand king of Nalgos after Clan Orefist was extinguished in the Long Winter War.
Followingin his father's footsteps, Eigir sought a place among the Blackcoats, the kingsguard of Nalgos, and got it in time. Trials and tribulations of military feats turned to long days of idle watchfulness, however, as after the war there wasn't much beyond ceremony for the kingsguard to do.
Everything changed for Eigir when during a hunting trip Ylgi Hammerhand, son of the king, fell to hobgoblin arrows along with Eigir's companions. Eigir hunted the assailants for days but, eventually, was forced to return to Nalgos alone and ashamed. Eigir could not long bear the shame his failure cast upon his clan, and quit the Emerald Mountain to find and destroy the hobgoblins that had robbed him of his friend and his honour.
https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/d5641ffb-99fd-4de0-b657-40d4eaa0e4b0/ddgxpfz-a9d526ea-b98f-462f-bf06-703465e84794.jpg/v1/fill/w_774,h_1032,q_70,strp/eigir_runilsson_by_thefingers_ddgxpfz-pre.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTIwMCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2Q1NjQxZmZiLTk5ZmQtNGRlMC1iNjU3LTQwZDRlYWEwZTRiMFwvZGRneHBmei1hOWQ1MjZlYS1iOThmLTQ2MmYtYmYwNi03MDM0NjVlODQ3OTQuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTkwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.QG3WJ98UzftfJHgYLGkQMa_9pHVLgdf5dPZ1uIlHwlM
"You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" -Death
This character idea was something that inspired me to do when I decided to mix some FFXIV Astrologian Themes onto a Divination Wizard.
(Art by Yan Chuan)
Character Name: Francesca
Class: 1st Level Wizard
Race: Variant Human (Observant Feat)
8/14/14/17/10/12 Stat
Francesca is a bastard child of a prominent noble family that was spirited away by one of her mother's trusted servants at her request. This servant, Gideon, made plans to join with a traveling circus group in order to mask Francesca's existence from the eyes of any rival families that may use her for leverage. Growing up in the circus troupe Francesca found a calling in the acrobatic side of entertainment and with the instruction of the senior performers has fine tuned her skills to performance level.
Francesca also found the concept of Tarot Cards and Divination to be fascinating, often spending time with the fortune teller and watching their work. As the years went by and she grew older, more talented, and often sought after by Lords and sometimes Ladies of the court, the fortune teller saw something in one of their visions and foretold great destiny within Francesca. On her 23rd name-day, the fortune teller decided to give Francesca a small glowing orb that would transform into a fascinating object called a Planisphere, a device capable of holding Fate cards, and instructed the young woman in the arcane arts.
He is one of the most powerful courtiers in the city, but has never set foot in a salon, party, or royal home.
He wears clothing of the finest make, but no tailor would dare utter his name in polite company.
He enforces the law, just not your law.
Silas (nicknamed Lord Twist) is the personal magistrate of the head of the Thieves Guild, appointed to seek out the truth in matters too murky and dangerous to be left to chance. A warlock bound to Moloch, Twist acts as peacemaker among the loyal criminals, and judge and occasional executioner to the rest. His familiar, an imp, acts as his eyes and ears, and no matter is beneath his attentions.
Your guy's backstories makes me feel like I put in no where near the effort I should into writing my characters backstories. I only have ever made two characters but their backstories are a little larger than a paragraph, and mostly set up who they are not much else. Maybe its just that both my characters are not from where the campaign is taking place so its not like much stuff can be reused. I also want my characters to be treated based on who they are and not who they were. Maybe its the fact that I usually focus on other people and don't focus on my self very often and that aspect of me carries over unconsciously when I go to write my characters backstories.
Gblin Cleric of the Trickery Domain, Ignak:
Ignak never knew his father. He spent his early childhood living in the port district ghetto with his mother, under the thumb of the thieve's guild. At a young age Ignak was drawn to the wrong side of the law, the promise of freedom through easy coin irresistible weighed against the lax threat of the city guard.
Soon, the young goblin got endebted to some thugs, who ordered a beating on his mother as a scare tactic. The beating got out of hand, however, and Ignak's mother was killed during the assault. In his grief, the youth threw himself head first into Guild business, soon out of his depth with increasingly challenging jobs. He eased the stress of a hard life on the streets with intoxicants, caring little for his own well-being, yearning only for status among the thieves.
Some years into this spiralling life style, Ignak was caught by the city guard during a burglary and they nearly killed him, mutilating him with their halberds. With the last of his strength, the goblin sought refuge in the Cathedral of a Thousand Gods. He dragged himself, beaten and bloodied, through the aisles, until he finally collapsed (by chance, or led by fate) before the shrine of Tyche, the goddes of fortune. There, he was happened upon by the high priestess Fon Relgia, who nursed him to health, took him under her wing and taught him in the ways of Tyche. For the longest while, Ignak's life had a direction towards a future with some hope of a better life.
"You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" -Death
You really only need one or two paragraphs for a backstory to be fair. The rest of it can be worked on with your DM to flesh it out into their world. As a DM myself I would get pages and pages of backstory on someone only for them to die immediately, usually throwing those pages of backstory out the window.
I always wanted to make a Fremen warrior from Dune....
Do'ghul Fuad al-Sayafa, son of Dakir, Shaman of the Fallow Wastes
Earth Genasi/ Druid of the Land- Desert/ Outlander
He was born within the city caves of the holy mesa, Shalud, during an epic sandstorm which had lasted a fortnight. Such storms had been known as a good omen and a prophetic sign that the tribe would be blessed with a child of the sand. Such an occurrence was rare but not unheard of. As predicted by the elders, he had been born of land and when looking closely at him, one could sometimes see actual sand falling from his form. He was given the name of the seed of the Yotin tree, Do’ghul. that which can survive in the deep playa of the Funeral Plains.
At the age of 13, he performed the rite of adulthood and was cast out into the desert. This was a difficult test and was required of all youths. He was to survive 5 days and to bring back a Kruthik claw of a fresh kill. Upon survival and return, The claw would then be crafted into a weapon that would be his bond with the desert and show his worth within the tribe. It was on the Plain of Shards he had made his stand, trapping and killing an adult Kruthik after leading it away from its hive. For the remaining days he lived off the carcass meat he had taken with him and took refuge from the storms in the Amber Steppes. Upon his return, he was accepted into the tribe as an adult and trained as a shaman warrior like his father before him, and his father before him.
As he grew, he heard the old stories and had seen the carvings in the sandstone temples of oceans as far as the eye could see and of strange peoples from far away green lands. Because the tribe knew nothing of the outside world, he stood before the council of Elders and asked for their blessing to seek out knowledge of the New World and to bring it back to his people. They agreed and had him taken on a Sandsail Skiff to the deep desert, the edge of their known world and the farthest anyone would dare to travel. He watched and waved goodbye to the Sandsail as it disappeared into the sunset over the dunes. Survival meant night travel on foot over the Sandsea. In taking these first steps in the cold sand, he had realized this was the farthest his tribe had ever traveled from the Holy Mesa. How far would this journey to the New World and all its wonders take him?
Ritualistic Dagger: Spell focus made from Insectoid chitin claw of a Kruthik
Spellbook: engraved beads of Obsidian, Opal, Turquoise and Tungsten wrapped around my forearms
Beastshapes: Desert only
Feats: Resilient - Constitution
Spells: Mold Earth, Magic Stone (sand), Dust Devil, Warding Wind
Discord: Tully#0286
Amriel The Leper Knight
Amriel The Leper Knight. He is also known as the Almsgiver and the Purifier of Roads
Assimar/ Paladin- Order of Heroism/ Haunted one
I did not choose this path, but it is mine to walk.
It began when my daughter allowed the diseased black goat into the farm. It had come from the road, barely able to walk with rotting flesh and ridden with contagion. She was always helping found strays and hurt animals from the road but this one was different. It did not eat nor drink and sat in the middle of the farm. Possibly resting, or waiting for the inevitable to happen or something else. Later that day, by the time she had told us of the sick goat, Shawna and I had noticed a quiet stillness while feeding the horses. No bird calls or insects sounds, only silence. I scolded her for taking in another animal for fear of the rest of the livestock and set out to find it. It was getting dark and Shawna took Lina inside for the night. Darkness had fallen quicker than normal that evening and in the stillness of the night, I could not find the black goat.
That night I had a restless sleep with horrific dreams and awoke feeling not well. After Walking outside to meet the continued stillness of the morning, I found all the livestock dead in the fields, pigs dead in the pens and even the chicken laid motionless in their coop. I ran into the house to Lina’s room fearing the worst. When I opened the door, I found Shawna holding a very sick Lina. Both to my horror were beginning to show signs of sickness and flesh rot similar to the other farm animals. “We must leave here quickly and find help in town!” Gathering our clothes and not much else, we quickly escaped down the road by foot after finding the horses dead as well. I remember looking back only to notice in the distance, the black goat sitting in middle of the field surrounded by corpses, watching and bleating at us. It was the last I ever saw of our home.
In Dawn Garden, the capital of Marothell, we sought out the physicians of Thoth to help us. They told us that it was a kind of magical plague similar to the disease Leprosy but was resistant to their treatments. Fearing the spread of the disease we were shunned and cast out of the Thoth infirmary. We were told to travel to a hospital within the monastery of the House of the Broken God. It was there that the clerics of Ilmater care for a leper sanctuary known as a place of refuge and treatment. With no other choice, we were given food and Leper bells to ring as a warning for all on the long journey to the House of the Broken God. The pilgrimage was long and hard and few would help us on the road due to our condition. Even the bandits let us pass. It was on the road where Lina had perished. She was laid to rest under a small stone burial cairn on the side of the road.
Upon arrival we were treated as best they could. Shawna soon after succumbed to the strange illness. Overwhelmed with great sorrow, I had wept tears of blood and showed signs of the Stigmata of Ilmater, bleeding from the eyes, wrists and ankles. Our caretakers, The knights of The Holy Warriors of Suffering, saw this and told me that I had been chosen by the god for a higher purpose, for I had suffered greatly. For within the Order of Holy Warriors of Suffering there was a small faction of zealots known as the Order of Leper Knights (or Plague Knights by some). Like The Holy Warriors, who were known to undertake various dangerous missions and expeditions to cull monstrosities of the land, the Leper Knights fought recklessly with the courage of men with nothing to lose. Sometimes taking suicide missions against great odds anchored by a holy purpose. To be a Leper Knight is to be a champion of the oppressed, a pilgrim of the trenches, a doctor of the hopeless, and a vangard of the most holy and pious.
Witnessing this miracle of blood as a sign and feeling a deep burden of guilt that my neglect had caused the death of my family, I accepted the invitation and Ilmater into my life hoping for salvation. I was told my condition was enough to enter the Order of Leper Knights. But for my first Suffering to test my piety, I had taken the Sacament of the Sacred Affiction and accepted the disease for the remaining time in this life, refusing further treatment. The time is now to act and to rid the world of evils greater than myself.
Appearance: He wears a tattered tabard over a suit of rusty armor with streaks of rust and blood coming from his helmet eye slits. He carries a processional standard of Ilmater (holy symbol) that is also a halberd. During his Radiant Soul transformation, he cries blood and bleeds from his wrists and ankles. He does not have the ability to fly.
Flaws: It is his daily ritual to pray and repent every morning at dawn to Ilmater. (Flagellates himself with a thorny switch from my wife’s bouquet of funerary flowers for 1D4 damage) He always hides his disfigured face behind an iron mask or helmet to spare others from his unsettling condition.
My DM and I agreed to this degenerative disease game mechanic as levels advance to add to the urgency of his limited time on this plane.
Curse of The Black Goat
Discord: Tully#0286
My DnD OC 2 Magdhor the Half-Orc Paladin
Magdhor is a half-orc paladin. He is a twenty-eight year man who is six feet and 7 inches and weighs two hundred pounds. He has a black afro and has dark brown eyes. He has dark green skin and a beard.
Magdhor was born and raised by his single mother. He never knew his father but that never truly bother him. When he was just ten years old, he was saved by a paladin from an undead monster. Ever since that day Magdhor wanted to be a paladin just like the man who saved him. He left home at the age of sixteen with mother’s blessing and sought out on how to become a paladin. As if faith was guiding him he met the same man who rescues him from six years ago and he took Magdhor as an apprentice teaching him the ways of the paladin, to help those in need and to smite the wicked. For ten years Magdhor trained with his master resulting him becoming stronger and wiser. However when he was twenty-six, a horrible incident occurred that changed his life forever. Magdho and his master were spending the night in a small village until a horde of undead led by a necromancer attack the village. No one was spared from the massacre. Magdhor and his master tried to fight the horde but were overwhelmed. In his final moments Magdhor’s master cast a spell on Magdhor to protect him. Magdhor last image before passing out was his master being killed by the necromancer. When Magdhor awoke, all that was left of the village were dead bodies but strangely there was no sign of his master’s body. From that day on Magdhor swore to his deity that he will bring justice for these villagers and destroy the wicked necromance for what has been done. It has been two years and he has heard rumors of the undead rising in remote places, he can only hope and pray that another tragedy wouldn’t happen again.
Magdhor is what you best described as a gentle giant, he looks big but in fact he is quite sweet. He is a man of justice and fairness and hates to see evil prosper. Him and his master both swore oaths to their deity to protect and fight evil in all of it’s forms. Magdhor doesn’t like to talk but when a conflict is brewing he raise up to calm it down. While traveling with his master Magdhor learn how to smith and to make medicine. His two biggest goals in life for now his finding and destroying the necromancer and finding a wife. He has a mother, two aunts,a grandfather, an uncle and three cousins, two half-orc girls and one adopted human boy
Magdhor Stats
STR:18
DEX:12
CON:18
INT:12
WIS:16
CHAR:16
Weapons
Longsword, Javelin
Tools
Herbalism Kit, Smith’s Tools
Language
Common, Orc
This is my firs ever Pathfinder character.
Kall'ia Thy'ula the half-elf destined Sorcerer
Sardan Thy’ula has been a weapon-smith for a few years when he met the woman who would become his wife. Emilia Hawk had met Sardan while setting up her shop. The two had been friendly for a few years before Sardan finally asked her to marry him. A proposal she happily accepted. A few years had gone by before Emilia gave birth to their daughter. Little Kall’ia had quickly become the apple of her parents’ eye. When her mother wasn’t running the shop, or her father working in the forge, they would be playing and spoiling their little girl. From the time she was six to her tenth birthday, her mother taught her how to sing and a little bit about running the shop. What helped was how cute the little girl was. This brought in all kinds of customers. The young half-elf was more than happy to help her mother around the shop and she as soon helping customers find what they needed. The only part she didn’t deal with was her father’s forge. Sardan wanted to keep his daughter away from all of the weaponry he mad as well as the roaring fire he used. This only lasted up to her sixteenth birthday. Kall’ia had finally convinced her father to show her how he ran the forge. To his surprise, his little girl picked up the basics incredibly fast. Another three years went by and Kall’ia had taken over the ship for her mother, letting Emilia rest and enjoy her older years. Sardan was still in his prime. No surprise there considering his elvish bloodline.
One day, while working in her parents’ shop, Kall’ia met an unusual man. He had bright red eyes and Onyx black, shoulder-length hair. He introduced himself as Lord Darious LaCroiux. This was a name that the young woman did not recognize. Still, she greeted him properly and asked how she could help him. To which he replied that he was looking for Sardan. Tales of the elf’s work had reached him and he wished to commission a ceremonial rapier. With this, Kall’ia led the man to her father’s forge. She then stood by quietly and watched as the two men talked. Darious promised her father a hefty amount of coin as well as a gift if the rapier was prepared for pick up in three days. This was easy enough to do, so Sardan agreed. Before Darious left, fed father drew a full scale version of the blade and showed it to the lord. With a couple critiques, the design was ready to be forged. Darious walked back to the main part of the shop with Kall’ia, purchased a few things and then left. The next three days went by quickly and soon enough, she he nobleman had returned. Sardan had met him in the shop this time and presented the finished blade to Darious. It was an exceptionally designed weapon. The balance was perfect and it seemed as if the rapier could easily be treated as an extension of one’s arm. Needless to say, Darious was impressed. And as promised, he paid well. The male snapped his fingers and a medium size chest and as brought inside. On the front was what looked like a symbol for some deity. A moon with a pair of smirking lips topped by a seven pointed crown. Sardan leaned down and slowly opened the chest. Inside was more gold than he or his family had ever seen before. While her father and mother were distracted by the small mound of gold they were just given, Kall’ia felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Darious. “I did promise a gift as well as coin. But this gift is for you alone.” With that, the lord handed Kall’ia a small statuette of some goddess. “She has taken a liking to you Kall’ia.” Before she could ask what he meant, the young half-elf hear another voice in her ear. One it seemed onl;y she could hear. It was feminine in nature, but deeper than her or her mother’s voice. “Ah so you are Kall’ia. I have been searching for someone like you.” Startled, she looked at Darious. The man simply smiled before thanking her father again and taking his leave.
After he and his men left, she showed her parents the figure she was given. On its base was the same symbol that was on the chest. “Why don’t you show me what crafting skills you have Kall’ia. If they are worthy, I will grant you another gift.” There was that voice again. Unsure of what to do, the young half-elf asked her father if she could use the forge for a bit. There was something compelling her to do as this mysterious voice had asked. Still stunned and distracted by the small fortune sitting in front of him, Sardan nodded and waved her off. Young Kall’ia headed into the forge, picked up an ingot of iron and began to work. She was normally focused on when working in the forge, but today she was abnormally focused on what she was doing. Several hours passed by as they girl worked. Finally she took a step back and wiped the sweat from her brow. Laying on the table in front of her was a finely crafted shortsword. It wasn’t complete yet, but whatever entity was watching still seemed impressed. Over the next day, Kall’ia would put the finishing touches to the blade before awkwardly presenting it to this voice. “Such wonderful craftsmanship. You are indeed worthy of this gift.” As the voice spoke again, a woman appeared next to the half-elf. She was tall. Easily a foot taller than Kall’ia was. Her pale white skin contrasted the pitch black hair that ran to the middle of her back. And those Brilliant blue eyes seemed to pierce right through the young girl. Without words needing to be spoken, Kall’ia knew who this was. Nocticula reached out and took the blade from the girl and held it up. She examined every inch of it, even checked it’s balance. There were some imperfections and the balance was a little off, but that was to be expected from one as young as Kall’ia. “A wonderful blade, child. It is indeed worthy of my boon.” The Goddess said before reaching over and placing a hand on the girl’s head. A flash of bright light blinded the girl for a moment. As her vision cleared, Nocticula was gone and the shortsword lay on the workbench in front of her.
“Use this gift wisely, child. For you have been chosen as my champion.” Again Nocticula’s voice rang in the girl’s ears. “What? What gifts? I don’t understa-” As Kall’a spoke, she felt a surge in her body. It was something she had never felt before. Without even thinking, the girl held up her hand and muttered a few words. A burst of light sprang from her fingertips and caused the girl to yell. Her father came running in, only to stop and stare at his daughter. “Poppa. I don’t - What’s going on?” She was scared, that was clear. Yet her father didn’t speak. Emilia entered soon after and gasped. What was wrong with them? It was making her freak out even more. As she went to walk toward them, Kall’ia caught a look at her reflection in one of the shields her father had made. This caused her to yell again before running over to it. The young half-elf’s hair had gone from the black it usually was to almost a light pink in color. Had she done this? Or was this part of the gift given to her by Nocticula. A throaty chuckle echoed in the room as Nocticula appeared once more. Both of Kall’ia’s parents took a couple of steps back while this woman walked over to their daughter. “Calm down child. You have not been harmed. I simply prefer it when my champions
. I will give you one warning. If you wish to continue to use my gifts, then I will need you to craft something once a day. Or simply speak my name in a prayer. Farewell for now child, I may return from time to time.” With that, Nocticula left the three of them again. Once the shock had gone away, it was replaced by anger. How could someone force something like this on her? She was the daughter of a merchant and a blacksmith? Why did she need all of this weight on her shoulders? Yet here she was, stuck with this crazy hair color that is sure to get her noticed in ways she would prefer not to be. So she did the one thing she could do and refused to do any of what that damned goddess told her to do. She never prayed to her, not crafted anything in her name. This lasted about three years.
Then, one day, while Kall’ia was working in the shop, she heard that voice again. It had been some time since she last heard it. “Do you not like my gifts child?” Nocticula appeared again as she spoke. Kall’ia refused to acknowledge that she was there. To which the goddess simply chuckled. “You can fight this fate all you want, child, but it will catch up to you. These gifts can keep your family safe.” With that, she disappeared and left Kall’ia standing alone in the shop. Even with those words, the half-elf woman refused to do ask Nocticula had asked her to do. That was, until one night, when someone tried to rob the store. Sardan had caught the thief in the act and had tried to subdue him. Hearing the scuffle, Kall’ia had ran over to see what was going on. Without thinking, she reached for that gift that Nocticula had given her, but could not feel it. So she did the only other thing she could think of and called for guards. They had arrived a moment too late as the thief cut Sardan across the shoulder and took off into the night. It was because of that, that Kall’ia began to do as that damned goddess had asked and began to pray to her once a night. She would even craft small statuettes in Nocticula’s appearance. She still didn’t like it, but if the abilities could keep her family safe, then she would put up with it. Another four years had gone by and Kall’ia was now the owner of the shop, her parents started. Sardan and Emilia Still lived close by and would stop by every now and again to help their daughter out. Yet, even with the shop being profitable as it was, Kall’ia knew she would have to leave eventually. Nocticula would remind her of that
idk about a backstory...but I'm making a tortle sorcerer wild magic sorcerer who's got a curse slowly turning him into an evil human....physical contact makes the curse grow and curses someone else randomly based on what they roll (kinda like a tortle sips I guess) now I'm just trying to think of a backstory and what Items I need (besides a simple weapon because a turtle and a quatrestaff is a match made in heaven...and sorcery adds to that) and he has minus 3 initiative so....he's a slow guy with an AC of 17 yay :)........the same as the highest initiative he can get :(
Name: Callybon Raulnor (alias/false ID: Mardnab Nopenstallen)
Race: Rock Gnome (note: not a race native to this world/dimension-- this wasn't entirely intentional, I just wanted to play a gnome wizard, but when the DM informed me of this-- and gave me permission to play one anyway--, it actually acted kind of as a guiding factor in her backstory)
Class/Subclass: Wizard, School of Transmutation
Age: 26 by her best estimate, but could be anywhere from 24-27ish; according to "Mardnab's" very official-looking paperwork, she's 25
Summary Background: mix of Urchin/Charlatan/arguably Sage, with as many friends as the average Hermit
Callybon ended up in this world from a very young age with no idea how it happened-- if she was old enough to remember going through the process, she's long since forgotten it by now.
She had to learn to survive on her own in the city from a very young age and ended up doing so through a combination of (1) small size (making it easier to flee pursuers and squeeze through gaps they could never fit through), (2) charm, (3) her wits, and (4) just plain luck. While other young ragamuffins in the city took up pickpocketing as a profession, Callybon preferred running cons in the form of pawning off junk on unsuspecting strangers and charging them for it. She got to be quite good at it, too.
Magic always held a place of fascination in her heart. She learned to read at a young age from a combination of eavesdropping/spying on the lessons of a certain upper-middle-class merchant's children, whose tutor insisted that fresh air was good for young minds and thus held all lessons outside, and independently studying/looking at the few books she could get her hands on in her own time. Her favorite stories involved magic, in some form or other: she particularly liked a series of short stories about a merchant of magic items who would always warn her customers not to abuse them for selfish purposes. Of course, the customer would inevitably do so and end up creating bigger problems, which the merchant would then have to roll up her sleeves and fix with more magic (often using spells quite creatively to do so).
One day, when Callybon was about eleven or twelve years old, she was hawking her latest faulty goods (including a Miraculous Age-Removing Cream, a Spider-Warding Charm (to protect your house from spiders), and a batch of Actually Authentic Love Potions) when a strange man came up to her and purchased all her goods, only to whack her hands with a quarterstaff and scold her for tricking customers in the next instant. The man then offered to teach little Cally how to wield real magic so that she wouldn't have to lie about her goods and could make an honest penny for herself.
It... kind of worked, just not as the man had intended. Callybon discovered a natural propensity for crafting small clockwork devices, which actually worked, and this made her very happy for the time being. Of course, this was a far cry from actual magic.
The man tried in numerous ways to teach Callybon how to cast spells according to the methods used by himself and other magic users, but his efforts were all for naught. The little gnome became frustrated often, insisting that she just didn't get it and she'd never be a real mage of any kind, but her mentor treated her with patience and kindness, offering smiles and reminding her of how creative her fake magic items had been whenever she was about to give up (and the occasional slap on the wrist if he caught her slipping back into her old scamming habits).
After a time, her mentor announced that it was time for him to go help others and, after giving her a strange book as a parting gift, took his leave, with a final stern reminder not to deceive others.
...She did try to heed his last words to her. With her gnomish tinkering, Callybon could craft legitimate clockwork toys for people to buy, and even when the costs of materials were factored in, this was enough for her to make a living for a while.
The problem? She was bored.
See, Callybon only knew how to craft three general things well enough that she could sell them to customers, and none of them were anywhere near as glorious as the fake goods she used to pawn off on others. What's more, she missed the rush of a successful con; she missed the excitement of getting one over on someone, especially if the "someone" in question was someone rich and powerful.
She needed some intellectual stimulation in her life, and she wanted to feel like she was doing something more useful in the world-- like making a statement against the upper classes that preyed on the city's weak and unfortunate-- than just making little clockwork toys for children. So she went back into scamming, especially of wealthy targets, and even came up with a convenient fake name and identity for herself.
To unsuspecting customers, she introduces herself as Mardnab Nopenstallen. Of course, she is the only gnome in existence (as far as she knows) in this world, but she likes the security of having a false identity anyway.
As when she was a child, her favorite con is making useless stuff that looks cool with magic and convincing people it's worth their money. As might be expected, this necessitates a lot of traveling once someone finds out she's a fraud, so she has a good reason to go adventuring.
Her fascination with magic hasn't faded over time. She still has the book her mentor gave her when she was a child; it's one of her few prized possessions. With every new town and city she stops by, she scrounges up what information she can on magic and fervently jots down notes in her own personal journal, hoping one day she'll discover the secret to utilizing such spells herself.
Spoiler: She does.
Her character sheet also includes a lengthy "Miscellaneous" section of personality quirks and so on. I still add to it when I think of something, and I still think of things to add on occasion.
Callybon Raulnor (alias: Mardnab Nopenstallen): Rock Gnome, Level 4 Transmutation Wizard
So, I've never really gone all Edgelord for a character, figured I'd make one for the hell of it. I actually can't wait to play him now! Here's the backstory for Korgoth Sognos, a Kalashtar Oathbreaker Paladin/Fighter.
Korgoth Sognos was once a Knight of the Roseblade, an order of highly-trained soldiers that protected Lord Thorne, a high-ranking duke, and his lands. Korgoth led a battalion of soldiers, and was well-loved by them and the duke for his honor and bravery. He was also unique, because he had been born a Kalashtar, a compound race created from the union of humanity and renegade spirits from the plane of dreams - spirits called quori. As both a knight and a Kalashtar, he chose to become a Paladin and a follower of Sanctuary, the goddess of dreams. Korgoth was happy and content in his life, protecting others and keeping the land safe. He had even fallen in love with another knight, Palin, who also served Lord Thorne, and who passionately returned Korgoth's affections.
One night, Korgoth began having terrible visions while he slept, in which he seemed to receive messages from Sanctuary herself warning him that a great evil was rising around him, and that he could not trust those nearest to him. Brushing off the visions, paranoia nevertheless began to creep into his mind. The visions continued night after night, growing darker, with Sanctuary urging him to smite this evil wherever it may be found, even in his own men and lord. The paranoia began to grow, until Korgoth was unable to distinguish friend from foe. After a particularly bad night, Korgoth was driven to do the unthinkable. Believing he was smiting fiends intent on destroying his master and friends, the paladin swept through the castle, destroying any who got in his path. Servants, knights, and even Lord Thorne himself were unable to stand against Korgoth's righteous fury.
When he finally came to his senses, Kor found himself holding Palin's broken body in the great hall, weeping. As he wept, a figure appeared in flames before him, a demon. The fiend, who called himself Yslrawg, cackled in glee as he revealed that it was he, in service to his master, who had sent Korgoth the visions, posing as Sanctuary, and turned him against his brothers and sisters in arms. It had all been a game amongst the gods, with the knight an unwitting pawn. The demon said that it was Sanctuary's move, then disappeared in a cloud of ash and sulfur, cackling madly.
The fury Korgoth felt before paled in comparison to the anger that now rose within him. He cursed the gods, especially Sanctuary, for treating mortals with such flippant disdain. He renounced his Paladin oath, swearing vengeance on the demon, his "master", and the rest of the gods, vowing to never again be a puppet to any creature. With the breaking of his oath and the force of his rage, his shining silver armor turned the color of the blood draining from his lover's corpse, and the emblem of the Roseblade on his chest, once a symbol of hope and justice, turned as black and cold as the Abyss itself. Korgoth fled the castle and the land, never looking back, his vengeance now the only passion burning within his heart.
A tall, muscular man, Korgoth is an imposing presence, made even more so by the blood-red armor he wears, with the ice-cold-to-the-touch emblem of a Roseblade on his chest. He has shaggy black hair, sharp features, and steel grey eyes that seem to have flecks of hellfire in them. He rides a large, pure white, fey warhorse named Omen, and is followed by an undead retainer on an equally undead horse. Korgoth is handsome, but doesn't look like he's smiled with joy in years, giving him a more haggard appearance, and in fact looks uninviting most of the time. Anger flashes behind his eyes, warning those who would challenge him to think twice or risk their very lives. He carries no shield, just a large cursed great sword of vengeance called the Black Rose, made of a dull black metal that reflects no light.
this is my backstory for my human wizard pc i'd like to see some feedback on it.
Blazzmo the wise is a human wizard at the ripe age of 128. he lives in a small cottage on the top of a hill in the countryside. to the left of the hill is a large dense magical forest, and to the right of the hill is a small town which he calls his home town. a long time ago a band of different fantasy creatures mostly wood eleve and a race of intelligent werewolves came to the forest and made it their home and some time later they became druids and declared the forest to be "sacred ground" and made themselves its guardians. this proved to be a nuisance to blazzmo as he needs to cut down trees for firewood for the winter months so when he would go to chop one of the trees down he would be continually pestered by groups of the guardians preaching to him about how all nature is precious and is not to be disturbed by outsiders. he, obviously not caring continued to chop firewood for winter also, during spring he would uproot weeds and other small plants at the forest's edge to spite them because they were becoming annoying for him. they became so fed up with him doing this that they tried to capture him and put him on trial for his crimes against the forest, but since he knows firebolt he was able to easily escape their wood and vine traps however what he could not escape was the werewolves attempting to ransack his house during the night where he proceeds to drive them off his property by shooting at them with a blunderbuss which he keeps with him for such occasions doing this brings him great amusement because it's the only time when he can actually shoot at the quote "fuzzy Mongrels" as he affectionately calls them. over in his home town though, a different problem was arising. gangs of warlocks were sneaking into the town to perform their rituals like summoning demons placing curses on people and other unholy acts. this pissed off Blazzmo so much that he made it his duty to stop their operations and can be seen doing battle with the warlocks and driving them out of the town. through these actions against the warlocks, he is now known as the towns hero which he likes to brag about to whoever chooses to listen to his ramblings. he practiced alchemy in his cottage and cooks up odd and bazarly situational potions with weird effects like turning stones into tree frogs or one that could turn sand into saltwater. he generally likes to live a secluded life but has gone on many adventures over his lifetime and if something threatens him or his home town he will defend it with his life. he may be old and grouchy and does stupid things a lot of the time but what little things that he does care about he is extremely devoted to it and will always protect it albeit reluctantly.
Two big points of feedback:
How is a human able to live to 128? If he were a level 15-20 wizard, I could buy it and simply assume he's using magic to extend his life. However, I'm not given any indication of how powerful a wizard he is. As a PC I'm assuming he's starting at level 1, but if not then this might not be an issue.
Secondly, "he generally likes to live a secluded life but has gone on many adventures" is contradictory. You'll need to do more work to reconcile this. Was he more adventurous in the past and in his old age prefers to stay in one place?
"We're the perfect combination of expendable and unkillable!"
oh i didn't think of that thx for telling me yeah i'll need to change a few things
how does this sound i changed his age to 89
he has gone on a few different adventures in his youth but now in his old age prefers the quiet life. but if he ever is needed he will rise to the occasion albeit reluctantly.
btw here is the sheet for him: ddb.ac/characters/20414996/673TGn