So some context first. This is a medium sized backstory for character for a homebrew setting I'm playing with friends. It is set in the world of Whend! Whend (which was set in an antiquity setting) being a world that the collaborative worldbuilding group I was apart of had made together for around nine months (more info here), currently on the next world of Aokoa but anyway. My character was a Kiana, one of that world's races (info card here), essentially giant lamia snek people. All art featured here is credited to TechnicolorTraveler, a mod of that WB group, and also DM for this campaign!
Now, without further ado, here is the still medium sized backstory for my Kiana Taoloa Monk, Gulzar!
Gulzar’s story began where all Toaloa stories do, in the deep jungles of the Sassarana jungle. Unlike other Taoloa however, Gulzar didn’t find herself in a well connected and thriving jungle community when she finally broke free of her egg prison. When Gulzar came into this world, it was alone, in a single, solitary hut, where only her expecting mother was. Gulzar lived with her mother Gulshan ever since. The two of them live secluded in their hut together, learning to live with the jungle, and occasionally going to the nearby village when deemed necessary.
While all Taoloa revere the jungle, Gulzar felt a special connection with it, a strong and almost inseparable bond with the earth itself. Whether it was a lack of a social life, or something else, something compelled Gulzar to wonder the jungles, to live in it, breath in it, and learn from it. She came upon hidden springs, the tallest of trees, and ruins, any ruins, both old and forgotten. All these things fascinated Gulzar, and compelled her to seek more of them out within her jungle home. Learning to live with the jungle, also meant she had time to learn of the divinity associated with these things. Tsenesh, patron god of the Taoloa, he was the god of plants, ruins, and forgotten lore. Gulzar had a deep spirituality about her, that she held most high. She spent many years in the jungle, in retreat of even her already secluded home, meditating and coming to grips with reality. Trying to comprehend the majesty and divinity of her patron god, and others too. Obua, the great Mother Goddess of the Kiana, the bearer of all Gods and embodiment of the earth, also gained much respect and veneration from the young Gulzar for more reasons that one.
Gulzar expressed her devotion to these deities in a number of ways. Simply seeking out ruins, and meditating upon them was one, but Gulzar also had another way, and it was through music. The Taoloa was given a flute from her mother at a very young age, and it was one of the few possessions Gulzar owned, and loved dearly. She was always nervous to play it around other people however, including her mother, and was unable to play her instrument. So she went out into the verdat jungles, allowing only the trees and plants to hear her music of devotion and entertainment. She spent many days playing for the jungle, honing her skills there away from prying ears.
Gulzar would learn that exploration she loved, and mystery she always wished to solve. Her greatest mystery, of course, was that of her own mother. Tall by even Taoloa standards, she was reserved and had a constant stern face about her. Gulzar never really knew why she was born along in the jungle. Her mother had no known husband or partner, and those of the villages knew precious little of her. Gulzard prodded her mother for answers at times, and received even less in return. Nethertheless, the two loved each other, and Gulshan taught Gulzar as much as she could about jungle survival and the art of combat, particular with bow and spear.
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The jungle is a lively and dangerous place however, and after one near fatal experience with a Kosshar, Gulzar was left injured and disorientated within the very bowels of the jungle. Fortunately, the next creatures that happened upon the injured Taoloa weren’t so concerned with her consumption. These individuals were fellow Kiana, specifically, monks of the god Tsenesh. They took the injured Gulzar back to their ‘monastery’, which was, in fact, a massive ruin complex deep within the jungle, easily the largest set of ruins Gulzar had ever laid her eyes on. How she missed it was amazing, and also proof of Tsenesh’s power of hiding knowledge behind nature.
There Gulzar stayed for a night and a day, conversing long with the monks, especially one named Shohreh. The leader of that particular control, and one of the masters of the monastery, Shohreh revealed that this monkhood was intended to protect the sacred places of Tsenesh, to collect and document the ruins and hidden lore of this ancient land, and to achieve spiritual enlightenment within the jungles themselves. Gulzar was of a very like mind, Shohreh said, and Shohreh was more than happy for Gulzar to join the monkood and receive personal tutelage from the master herself.
Allowed to leave for home to make a decision, Gulzar returned to her home to discuss the matter with her mother. After first a scolding for getting ambushed, and then a tense discussion about leaving, Gulshan, with reluctance, gave permission for Gulzar to join the monastery. She was to live her own life, and be finally free of her mother’s grasp as all daughters eventually want to be. The send off was teary, but the decision made. Gulzar was given one final peice of information from her mother however, that her door was always opened for her daughter, should she wished to return for whatever reason.
Training under Shohreh, Gulzar begun to learn the ways of the monk. Her use of the bow and spear was enhanced, and she was taught how to use her body as a weapon itself, especially that of her powerful constriction. Knowledge of Tsenesh and the Gods was taught to Gulzar, the history of the ruins of the Sassarana Jungles highlighted, and languages both present and ancient given focus too. Gulzar was also educated upon the concept of ‘Ki’, a Kiana term for a kind of spiritual, mana like energy that permeates through all creatures, and that some individuals are able to tap into and use as a weapon or enhancement to their own bodies.
Gulzar’s subtle and shy nature did not go unnoticed by Shohreh however, or the monastery at large. While the monastery sought to increase her social skills, more for her sake, they also sought to turn those traits into a tool. Gulzar was trained in the art of stealth and shadows, and she excelled at it. Of course, no progress was made to make her any more sociable, but many of the monasteries masters simply took what they can get. Though Shohreh was the odd one out in this opinion, thinking that there was indeed ways to make the girl less shy and withdrawn.
At the very least, Gulzar formed a bond with Shohreh, and with another student named Vashti. In saying that, the relationship had never progressed beyond a basic level, of student and teacher, of acquaintance to acquaintance. At least in Gulzar’s mind. On numerous occasions, when Shohreh and Vashti attempted to take the relationship to something deeper, or even just hang out with Gulzar for extended periods of time, they were only met with shy deflection and amazing disappearing acts on Gulzar’s part.
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For as enlightening and welcoming as the monastery had been, it wasn’t perfect. Gulzar often found the environment constricting, and too rigid for her liking. There were too many people she thought, and that made her heart pound hard and heavy. Gulzar felt stuck, despite being able to travel all over the Sassarana Jungles in the protection of Tsenesh’s sites. The drive to explore, to discover, to reflect and learn yearned deeply inside Gulzar, and she did not know what to do.
A dream came to her one night. In it she saw key moments of her life play out since her birth. From being able to slither for the first time, to her first kill with a bow, to her playing the lute on sunny day, to the Kosshar attack, to the recent days and months within the monastery. Then Gulzar saw a peculiar, previously hidden path reveal itself through the jungle, leading northward, and there the dream ended. Feeling as if she was divinely inspired, Gulzar went to speak with Shohreh and the monatary’s heads about the dream, asking for permission to go on a kind of vision quest to a hidden spring in the northern section of the jungle. They accepted, and Gulzar went off later that evening.
The whole way her mind was addled by thoughts and visions. She saw visions of moments in her life, and of events perhaps that had yet to come to pass, and questions had begun to arise within her. Questions about her ideals, her relationships, her values, and most strongly, of belonging. What should have been a day’s trip to the spring, turned into a week of almost aimless wandering through the jungle, with an intense, feverish demeanor taking over Gulzar’s mind and body. She eventually collapsed from exhaustion, unknowing of what her fate would be when she woke up.
Upon waking, Gulzar found herself in an entirely different world. Laying on a small hill, Gulzar awoke between realms. In front of her, lay a massive wall of trees that marked the beginning of the mighty Sassarana Jungle. Behind her, lay the beginnings of a wasteland of sand and dust, the Hanan Desert. How Gulzar appeared in this location she did not know, but that mattered little in the circumstances. For the first time in a week, her mind was clear, and for the first time in a very long time, Gulzar felt humbled and small by her surroundings.
She reflected upon the Sassarana Jungle, for how large it was, for how it was the domain of Tsenesh, and of her people, and of her birthplace. It was, ultimately however, only one part of the world, one little slice of it, for the domain of Obua was large and almost infinite in scale. Extending far beyond the range of the Sassarana Jungle, and perhaps even further than that. Spending so long in isolation within the jungle, it had cocooned Gulzar, and stagnated her spiritual growth and development as a person. Gulzar may be an adult now, but for the first time in her life, she felt that she had actual had control over herself. Where to go, what to do, what decision to make. All for herself as well. The Gods had given her a chance to grow and live out her long Kiana life, and she intended to accept this gift to the fullest.
And so, instead of returning to her jungle home, her gilded jungle cage, she turned to the deserts. Disappearing into those sands to end up in who knows where. The Gods were universal, her god was universal, and Gulzar was determined to see Tsenesh’s majesty in the other lands of Whend. She would learn of the forgotten lore of all people, the marvel of the planets and hidden things in the lands that she traveled. She would meditate upon the cycle of the world, and strike down those who dare upturn the Gods’ created order.
And perhaps, one day, she’ll return back home and solve the mystery of her mother too. Perhaps she would learn of it on the road, somehow. The feeling was there, the passion and fury, and Gulzar was the determine to achieve that knowledge she oh so craved now.
Also here are some clay minifigures of Gulzar, also made by the lovely TechnicolorTraveler. Hope you guys enjoyed the read!
I haven't been able to use this guy yet, but here it is. Name: Leon Valeheart
Leon Valeheart is the sworn defender of Tullia Anluan (my friend's PC, a Redemption Paladin), a princess from a kingdom in the north.When Leon and Tullia were younger, in their late teens, the Anluan and Valeheart families were both rapidly targeted by assassins and annihilated, leaving only Leon and Tullia. They had not heard news of the assassinations, instead witnessing it firsthand when three tried to end Tullia's life. Leon slew them, suffering a slash across the face. When he tried to find his father and the king, they found them both slain in the throne room. Leon and Tullia swore they would avenge their respective fathers, and fled the kingdom.
After some years, Tullia and Leon both much more experienced fighters, they stumbled across a strange group of adventurers...
My first D&D character, a Fiend Warlock I've been working on. It got a bit lengthy....sorry. <REDACTED>
Character: Malfinnius Ravenholm (Formerly Thomas Riley)
Age: 27 Race: Human Class: Warlock Patron: The Fiend Background: Sage Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Faction: Zhentarim
Malfinnius Ravenholm was born Thomas Riley. When he was young his childhood home was raided by the bandits known as The Dracil Raiders. His father was beaten and left for dead. His mother tortured <REDACTED> while he helplessly watched from a hidden storage cellar. When the raiders were finished ransacking his house, one of them stayed behind to set it on fire. As the man was leaving the house Thomas emerged from his hiding space, grabbed a nearby knife and charged the bandits back. Thomas plunged the knife deep into the large man’s back and continued to stab him over and over till the man fell face first to the floor. As Thomas looked up, the leader of the bandits, Dracil, was standing just outside his front door looking in at what had just happened. Dracil screamed, “That’s my brother, you little ****”! As Dracil stepped into the house a loud creaking sounded above. The flame-engulfed roof suddenly came crashing down, landing on top of Dracil’s brother. The smell of cooked fresh and the screams of a burning man filled the air for several seconds, then all fell quiet. Thomas managed to flee from the back of the house during the commotion. He ran to the stables in hopes of riding off on a horse. When he arrived he found his father’s battered and bloody form slumped down the side of a tree next to the stables. He was muttering, almost barely audible “I wasn’t strong enough” over and over again. Each utterance was quieter than the last until he stopped and stared directly into Thomas’ gray eyes and with his dying breath, he said to him “I’m sorry son, I wasn’t strong enough. I’m just a simple farmer. But you, you must survive and become strong, stronger than me, stronger than anyone. It doesn’t matter if you have to make a pact with the ******* devil himself. Make sure you can protect yourself and the ones you hold dear. I’m so sorry….” As Thomas nodded with tears streaming down his soot ridden face, he realized his father was gone. There were no horses left in the stables so Thomas made his way on foot through the forest. He knew it would take several days to get to the city so before he left he grabbed a small ax, a knife and an old horse blanket from the stables. As he fled his property, he grabbed several apples from a nearby orchard and began his journey through the woods. After several days Thomas finally made it to Waterdeep. As Thomas approached Waterdeep thoughts of relief, a hot bath and a warm meal filled his head. The reality was that no one wanted to pay him any mind. Pitty and disdain were all he received from the city folk. The guards shooed him away when he tried to tell them about the raiders, his family and his farm. The city quickly swallowed him up and to survive Thomas had to adapt. He began stealing to feed himself, he would use trickery and intimidation when needed. Over time he began to grow tall and strong. He learned how to handle himself in a fight and eventually earned a bit of a reputation on the streets. Typically he would only steal from the wealthy and he would never harm anyone unless it was to defend himself. He spent several years within the walls of Waterdeep. His new life taught him to distrust others and to never form bonds with anyone. Like his parents, they would just die someday and leave him alone again. Every time a “kind soul” would offer to help him, they would end up trying to either steal from him, beat him or **** him or all three depending on how depraved they were. Thomas stayed on his own, it was better that way. As time went on Thomas got bored with Waterdeep and started venturing out. He would hunt in the far off woods for days, even weeks at a time. While stocking through a new part of the forest he came across a small house. As he was now practiced to do, Thomas cased the house. He silently snuck around and peered through all the windows. As he looked inside one he saw an old man and two teens about his age, a boy and a girl. The girl was beautiful with red hair, pale creamy skin, and piercing green eyes. The boy was short and stout with dark hair and eyes. For several weeks Thomas would venture through the woods to hunt and would always stop by the old man’s house to watch them. Over time he realized that the old man was a Sorcerer and he was teaching these two kids magic. He learned that the old man was known as Old Man Ravenholm by most. In his prime, he was a powerful Sorcerer and made a bit of a name for himself. The two teenagers were orphans that the man took in. Their names were Mallory and Finnius.
One day when Thomas was watching Mallory and Finnius practice their magic, the old man appeared behind him. He invited Thomas in for tea but being untrusting and feeling a bit ashamed that he was caught spying on the old man and his adopted family, Thomas protested and ran off. Thomas planned on never returning to the old man's house but one day while hunting he found himself drawn to that part of the woods. As he got closer he heard screams and what sounded like blasts of magical energy. Thomas hurried over and saw Mallory running from a large hooded man. Her dress was torn and she was bleeding from the mouth and nose, anger and fear filled her eyes. The man gained on her and eventually caught up with her. Thomas watched from the shadows as he threw her down and tore at her clothing. Anger resonated deep in Thomas’ being. The sight gave him flashbacks of his mother’s **** and torture. His father's dying words floated into his head and he lunged out of the darkness and slammed his quarterstaff down on the hooded figures back and kept slamming it down till Mallory spoke, slightly stuttering: “I th-think, I think he’s de-dead”. After calming and regaining his wits and helping Mallory to her feet, the two of them ran over to the house. As they ran inside he noticed that the old man was on the ground and Finnius was battered and bloody, leaning against the nearest wall. There was another hooded man at his feet with a knife in his back. A third hooded figure was on the ground ablaze in the center of the room. After putting out fires, mending wounds and disposing of bodies. The old man sat down to thank Thomas and once again offer him tea.
Over the next few years, Thomas lived with the old man and begun learning magic with Mallory and Finnius. The 3 became good friends and he and Mallory quickly became lovers. Thomas found that he had absolutely no knack for magic and was the worst of all three. He never stopped training but it was doing little good. As his life went on with his new family and he enjoyed his alone time with Mallory, he began to feel at peace and he stopped thinking about his mother and father as much. He liked his new life very much.
One day when he was returning from a hunt something felt off as he approached the house. As he stepped through the front door, his heart sank as he saw the old man dead on the floor, blood pooled under his still body. Mallory was held with a knife to her throat and Finnius was being beaten by 3 men in the corner of the room. The man holding Mallory looked familiar and Thomas realized it was Dracil. Dracil explained that he heard rumblings that a boy survived the Riley Farm raid and made his way to Waterdeep. Dracil told Thomas that he had been hunting him for years and that he never forgot how he killed his little brother. Then he slit Mallory’s throat and tossed her to the ground. The image took Thomas back to when he was a boy and he watched as his mother’s throat was slashed, his father's words crept up into his mind repeating over and over. Something primordial whispered from all over and time stopped. A rift in space formed in front of him and a voice came booming though. “I am the demon lord Asmodeus! The vengeance in your soul calls to me boy. You shall be my servant, in my name you shall bring chaos and destruction to this world and in turn I shall grant you my power. As you are now, you are pitiful and weak but I can change that. I can make you stronger, stronger than your father, stronger than any man. Isn’t that what you want? Wasn’t that your poor weak father’s dying wish? Don’t you want my power boy? Say it boy SAY IT NOW! Take me as your master and have my power.” Thomas’ mind raced. He looked at the dead old man, he looked over at Finnius and saw that one of the three men that were beating him had plunged a short sword into his chest. Then he looked at Mallory and found that she was looking back, their eyes met. Something snapped inside and he pulled out his dagger and slashed at his hand. Thomas shouted “BY MY BLOOD, I FORM A PACT WITH YOU, MY NEW MASTER, THE DEMON LORD ASMODEUS!’ Then with a menacing look in his cold gray eyes, he said “Now give me your ******* power” Hideous laughter filled his ears as time started to slowly move again. A burning sensation filled his head as demonic knowledge flooded his mind. Thomas instinctually started casting a spell and found that despite his former lack of magical acuity, he could easily control his new powers. Dracil saw the rift and quickly realized that he might have bitten off more than he could chew and retreated while his men tried to subdue Thomas. After a short but bloody fight, Thomas emerged victorious. He ran to Mallory but knew he was too late. As blood spurt through her open neck, they shared one last kiss before her eye shut and her body went limp.
Asmodeus’ laughter was still bellowing. “Ahahaha very good Thomas, very good, but you are just a fledgling warlock my boy. Learn your new powers and gain strength. When I call on you, you better be ready to do my bidding child.” Thomas paused and looked at all the death around him. His whole life was death; death that he was too weak to prevent. Things were different now though. He had followed his father's advice and made a ******* pact with the devil. He had real power now and it felt amazing. He wanted more. He knew he would do as the demon lord wanted and he would continue to get stronger. He wasn’t helpless anymore, he wasn’t himself anymore. Thomas looked at the rift “I will get stronger and I will be ready, but stop calling me Thomas. I'm no longer that weak little boy. I will no longer watch helplessly while family and friends are murdered ”. He glanced at the bodies of his adopted family, Mallory, Finnius and Old Man Ravenholm and nodded. “Yes, In honor of them,” he thought “The names Malfinnius, Malfinnius Ravenholm, got it? Meanwhile, Dracil was outside listening in, making note of this boy's new identity. Dracil ran off vowing to exact revenge some day.
After putting his friend's bodies to rest and gathering supplies from the old man’s house, Malfinnius returned to Waterdeep and began to take odd jobs and make a name for himself. He traveled all over Faerun and continued to work, train and gain skills. Early on, while he was still beset with vengeance and rage, he met Davra. Davra kept him busy with work and slowly tried to teach him to deal with his loss and anger. The two became good friends, so good that Malfinnius took a job to raid a Dragon’s lair just to help the woman out. In return, he pissed off the Dragon Wokief by stealing from his treasure trove. Thankfully Wokief was preoccupied with the rest of his treasures and decided not to hunt Malfinnius down. Davra eventually recruited him into the Zhentarim faction.
During his many adventures throughout Fearun, Malfinnius crossed paths with a beautiful and cunning woman named Trista Shadowed. Over time they developed mutual respect for one another and for a short while became lovers. Trista taught Malfinnius in the ways of deception and persuasion, helping him hone his skills. The two last parted ways knowing that they made better friends and allies then lovers and are still very fond of each other to this day. Over the last year or so Malfinnius has been in and around Daggerford taking jobs as he likes. He has been staying at the Lady Luck and has gained favor with the owner Sherlen Miller. The patrons know that if they get out of hand while Malfinnius is around they just might get an Eldritch Blast to the backside. Because of his fondness for the tavern, he often refers to it as ‘his tavern” though he has no real stake in the place.
Malfinnius is currently in Daggerford looking for bigger, more challenging jobs. He is seeking more knowledge and power. He is loyal to his comrades but will not hesitate to act if a magical scroll, item or even a piece of vital knowledge is within his grasp. His time on the streets has made him cunning and deceptive while his tall muscular stature and cold deathly gray eyes have made him somewhat intimidating. He is no stranger to death and killing but never enjoys it. He is eager to gain more and more power in hopes that when his master calls, he will be ready. Not ready to do his bidding but rather, ready and strong enough to defy the demon lord Asmodeus, should he ask Malfinnius to defy his very nature.
Notes: Edited due to prohibited content and attempted filter circumvention.
My first memories are of the sunlight coming through the window of our bedroom. I remember both loving it’s warmth, and being afraid of it at the same time. The heat reminded me of the flames which took my family, and left my partially scarred. At the same time, I knew without the Sun, there would be no life at all. That was the duality of its nature. It was both a blessing and a curse. These are the teachings of the ministry I lived in. The orphanage I was placed in after the fire, The temple of Lathander.
I had only vague memories of my mother and father, and as I grew older and more versed in the word of Lathander, they faded into just faces. I miss them, but I feel no sense of loss. In their passing, I gained a purpose. I was placed upon a path. Through my study, and my faith, I have achieved power and wisdom. I have also seen the anguish and despair, and depravity of those who are not as enlightened, or have shunned the light.
I have decided to take my faith, as well as my mace, and go forth from the temple. I yearn to see the world, and do his bidding. To spread the word, to aid the people who are in need, and to smite those who stand in his way. Like the Sun, my fires burn hot. I am both nurturing and blazing. I can aid and cause great suffering. Such is the word of Lathander. Such is my will. My name is Cinwin Anwin.
Svirfneblin, multiclass: Fighter (Arcane Archer) & Druid (Circle of the Land: Underdark), Background: Urchin, Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Pog was born in the Underdark to a Svirfneblin mother who died in childbirth. He never knew who his Svirfneblin father was. He spent his childhood and youth living as an urchin in Mantol-Derith, a trading city in an underground cavern three miles below the surface, on the shores of the Darklake, in a region known as the Northdark (north and east of the surface city of Waterdeep).
Mantol-Derith's cavern was filled with waterfalls, pools, and streams, and Pog spent lots of time near these underground bodies of water, fascinated by the subterranean life in these pools, particularly various bioluminescent freshwater seahorses that dwelt in these waters. The cavern's walls were filled with multicolored crystals and gems, and the city itself primarily consisted of trade caravans and campsites. Small groups of merchants in the town represented many races: drow, illithid, svirfneblin, and duergar. Even bugbear merchants were often spotted there.
In his late teen years, Pog began to wander farther and farther from the city itself, drawn by his natural gnomish curiosity. On one of his Underdark jaunts, at the age of 20, he fell into a kobold trap, leading to his imprisonment at a kobold prison / forced-labor camp. He spent three years imprisoned there; during most of that time, his cellmate was a drow named Ivellioz Da'kiir, who eventually became his truest and only friend notwithstanding the typical animosity between the deep gnomes and the drow. Understandably, Pog came to hate kobolds, more even than most members of his race already do.
Eventually, Pog and Ivellioz managed to escape from the prison. It was Ivellioz who then initiated Pog into the ways of Arcane Archery. Together, the two traveled far and wide throughout the Underdark for close to 15 years, during which time Pog honed his archery skills as a fighter and also became drawn to the Druidic path known as the Circle of the Land, deepening his affinity with the myriad odd forms of plant and animal life living in the Underdark and on those mountain slopes where he and Ivellioz would occasionally emerge to peer at the sun and stars.
There came a time when Ivellioz received word his family needed him for some urgent business, something he had to handle on his own, and he and Pog parted ways, but Pog's life of adventuring would continue...
FYI, as an aside, the aforementioned Ivellioz Da'kiir is the younger brother of Fellozial Da'kiir, the namesake of my Fellozial's Ultimate Guide to Poison over at DMs Guild... ;)
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Author of Fellozial's Ultimate Guide to Poison, The Primal Gith, and other forthcoming titles at DMs Guild
A dark elf kicked out of the Underdark over a political squabble when he was only 20 years old, his parents were part of the minority that rejected the cruelty of their people. After his journey to the surface, it didn't take long for the prevailing thoughts of the surface dwellers on Drow to lead Franz to a life of lies, disguises, and gambling to make enough coin to eat with.
For several years, this went on until a kind servant of a passing noble advised Franz to learn the ways of the traveling minstrel, playing songs and telling tales of heroes for lodging. After this, Franz became enamored with stories and picked up a lute to practice with. He understood quickly that the better the stories he could tell, the better lodgings he could take up, and the better the food and drink he was offered. His favorite story to start with was a bit outrageous, he pretended to be half elf, half goliath. The irony coming from the fact that he was only five feet tall. He became quite popular as a bard in several small towns along a route between Waterdeep, and Neverwinter.
Soon enough, Franz decided to learn better magics at Neverwinter Academy, while taking special research projects that sent him to study at the nearby Hold dedicated to Helm. Franz was always eager to study the magic done by the paladins there, and soon befriended several of them. He would always have to refuse the invitations to festivals, or events held during the day else the daylight would burn him through the makeup, his natural excuse being studying at the academy from early morning until evening.
His friends at the hold wouldn't let him say no for too long though. After extracting his birthday from Franz over drinks one night, they planned to surprise him at the academy the morning of. They made the arrangements to have his current project's supervisor let him off for the day and ambushed Franz on the way to the lab. Franz couldn't well refuse the invitation to celebrate, but when they took him to the river outside of town he despaired thinking they would try to get him to swim. Luckily this wasn't part of their plan since they knew he didn't like showing much skin even at night. They set out a nice picnic for him along the riverbank and drank a finer wine than normal for the special occasion.
As the day passed, those of his friends that had duties that evening left one by one until only Anne was left with him. She had been getting more and more forward with Franz, thinking he was just supremely dense for how charming he was, though today she had been drinking quickly to gather up the nerve to try to court him. She stood up and took a few steps closer to Franz, but lost her balance and tumbled into the river, knocking her head hard against a rock on the way down.
His body acting faster than his head, he dived in after her. Dragging her limp body back up to the shore, he tried desperately to heal her, but she was already dead. He searched through her belongings to see if there was anything he could use and found a diamond necklace in one of her pockets. Thinking he could work to replace it, he hurriedly cast revivify on her, praying that Helm would let her return. As she coughed, Franz leaned his back against a tree and held his head with the chain from the necklace still hanging off one of his wrists. She sat up slowly and saw him. Franz whispered softly apologizing for using the necklace. She recognized the voice, but couldn't tell if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It looked as though Franz's skin was melting. Soon enough though, she realized that he had saved her life. That a drow had saved her life.
The following conversation ended with Franz deciding to leave the academy in search of a new place to make a living. Anne may have confessed her love for him, but he couldn't let her suffer when he was found out by other less open-minded individuals. He had to leave.
About one hundred years later, Franz is caught up in a mess relating to a cult and some dragons.
This is the backstory for my bard that started at level eight when I joined a Rise of Tiamat campaign. He is currently level nine, and I'm trying to convince my DM to let him take a Warlock level pact of the celestial with Ilmater as his patron so he can be closer to a paladin, and be like the friends he used to know and cherish.
I was invited to play a pathfinder campaign so this is my character for the first dnd or pathfinder campaign I ever played.
Allannia the elven Assasin. She was born into a family who was very magical and racist. She had no magic. Her brother hated her for it. He tortured her by cutting writing into her skin. He nearly killed her 3 times. When she was 11 her parents realized so they kicked her out. She snuck back in and stole some gold and a special poison. Her brother found her, tried to kill her, and mauled her leg before she poisoned him. He ran to get the antidote and she fled. She found a school for assassins and became a rouge. She has a special kind of magic called antimana so she can't be hurt my magic missiles and can destroy magical wards and barriers. She later becomes a dragon lord.
I'm Avery Badman (Ranger/Assassin), I grew up in a fairly small village up north. My father was a guide for travelers and merchants and as I grew older I helped him in this. He was a cold man my father, hard and unbending. And as I grew older neither of us could tolerate the company of the other much, so when I was old enough, I joined the army and left home. I've never been back. I began as a Scout and hunter, and later on I hunted deserters and dealt the necessary justice to criminals within our ranks. My last assignment, I was sent out after three deserters. It took me a few days but I finally tracked them down. It was then I learned they were all family, a father and his two sons. They'd been conscripted, hadn't wanted to join up but now that they were in, they were willing to serve. So they said. It's just that harvest was due and if they didn't return they'd lose everything, their home, their farm, their crops. Everything. They tried to get leave but were refused, they were conscripts after all. They swore they planned on returning, as I tied and fitted the nooses. They swore it the whole time, right up until they took the final drop and were hung they swore it. They were deserters after all. I left the army soon after. I work as a bounty hunter now, mostly.
Was born an aasimar to the deadly Tosbaan family, one of the few family's capable of gunsmithing. My father wished to turn me into a fallen aasmair to do his terrible bidding but my mother stole me away and fled to an orphanage on the oustskirts of the realm to keep me away from my father. I grew and matured in the orphanage along with my now brothers tormund and stlick, having a natural aptitude towards fighting and weponry from my father I quickly became know throughout the town as someone to go to for dangerous help. Me and my brothers became the town's unofficial protectors and thus made a name for ourselves. My father, being a powerful connected person, soon realised that an aasimar bearing a resemblance to him must be his lost son and quickly rode with his crew to reclaim me as his own. With the influence of his dark master, the demon urekxl, he quickly took over the town while me and my brothers where on a short quest. Upon our return we discovered the town in decay and desolation. We fought valiantly to reclaim our home from the Invaders but having just returned from a quest, were quickly defeated. Bound and broken, the man who orchestrated the siege revealed himself to be my father and soon to be master. Telling me of my birth and how my mother had stolen me from him, he described in vivid detail how he caught my mother and sacrificed her to his dark master, but still she prevailed, relieving no location where to find me. Duncan Tosbaan, the man who claims my heritage, then offers the most wicked of deals in order to secure himself a subservient fallen demi god:; kill my brothers in cold blood and become fallen, or he will burn the town to the ground. My brothers, being of the most honorable men agreed to the deal, pleading with me to end their lives to save the town they love. Seeing no other alternative, my father hands me his corrupted gun, deathspray, and i, with tear soaked face, let loose two shots that cemented my destiny of evil, or so I thought. As the blood stained my skin, it spread and darkened, engulfing the left side of my body and slowly moving up my face, graying my eye. My father being pleased with his conquest, ordered the extinction of the rest of the town, never planning on keeping his word. Hearing this, the angel Azrael's power surged throughout me with vicious fury, stoping the spread of darkness and exploding from my every being in radiant blinding light, completely eradicating all but the most powerful of the demons forces. Seeing his plan fail, Duncan and the rest fled leaving the ash of his men, and the corpses of my brothers behind, vowing to finish his malicious intent. Alone, broken, and afraid of my own power, I buried my brothers and headed out of the town that now sees me with judging and worried eyes for the darkness had taken half of my body. I now seek out the man who cursed me with this face and the never ending visions of my brothers cold lifeless eyes.
Here are a couple of characters I thought of. One is in third person because it's how I originally wrote it, his name is Zyran and he is a Half Orc fighter:
My mother was part of a group of nomadic humans, traveling from city to city, buying and selling. They weren't in the most lucrative of positions but they were getting by, until in the midst of traveling to their next destination Orcs attacked them slaughtering the men and capturing the women. In captivity my mother became pregnant with me...and there I came being held gently in my conflicted mother's arms. I grew up with the clan away from any real "civilization." I guess to me this was civilization. My mother did her best to keep me from becoming the monsters i was being co-raised by, and she succeeded, for the most part. While I'm not in a constant rage like some of my clan-brothers seem to be I have my flashes of anger. To me things were normal, wake up, fight, eat, go to sleep, rinse and repeat, but i could see my mother withering. She hated every second she stayed in that place, and she didn't try and hide it. One day an adult Orc had a little too much to drink and bumped into my mother as she was returning home from some kind of errand. I had never felt so much fury in me and I don't think I ever could. I stabbed the orc through the heart in a fit of rage, my mother looked at me in horror as she saw my blood splattered face and hands. We ran. It was the only thing we could do. We became nomads. Her being a human, and me being an abomination, there wasn't really another life style for us. I was 17 when my mother died of an unknown illness. The priests took one look at my ugly face and refused to heal my mother. That was the one and only day I have ever and will ever cry. And the next day...The anger set in. I was at the city edge in blind rage ready to murder everyone in my sight when i saw a mother and her son buying some fruit in the market. The pure, and innocent laugh the mother gave when the boy goofed off...It reminded me too much of her. The face of horror when I murdered the man that dared strike her. I will never forgive those priests, claiming to be heralds of their god, who will help all... But i won't let my anger control me. Since then I have worked as a farm hand, until people refused to buy food cultivated by me; a docker, until I was accused of killing the fish with my smell; and now currently a sword-for-hire. People who hire people like me don't care what you look like as long as you get the job done. My kind of job.
Callous is a Swashbuckler Rogue, Tiefling :
Callous was always an outsider. I guess that is any different from other people like him, but who cares. Everyone is outsider at some point, even the happiest of people have their lows. While some people fall into the dregs, or fall into evil, Cal decided to take his gorgeous self and become ******* rich. His mother was a secret warlock using dark magics to help run her potion shop. Her potent potions were known all over, in part due to being great at her job and in part living in a port city. Word travels fast when your customers do. One day Elenae must of gotten too close to the dark, and Ta-Daa! The people of his city didn't take lightly to that. She was drove off leaving her newborn son in a city that despise it. One soul took pity on Cal. It wasn't his fault he was an abomination! His foster mother, Garou took pretty good care of him. He was fed, and housed, but that was all she could provide without being ostracized. Growing up Cal grew up to be a charming young boy, while some took this as the devil trying to trick them, a few learned he wasn't...entirely evil. To be fair he wasn't a poster child either. He stole food, and trinkets at almost every chance and after a while he got quite good at it. The children his age who were taught of his "evilness" often started fights. Poked him with sticks and threw things at his beautiful horns, so he did what any self respecting person would do. He learned to poke and throw harder. He practiced sword play with random sticks he found, and when those kept breaking he snuck into a wood-craft shop and stole a wooden sword. After years, of stealing, training, fighting, and charming Cal found his hero... Jarous the famous pirate was having a little visit to his city. The guard never stood a chance, the city was captured within a few hours, as Cal watched in amazement at the sword play of these scurvy scourges. He always thought the guards were the best but seeing them easily outmatched inspired him. Inspired him to ransack too. He never really liked the people and this was his chance to become something more than the street urchin with a stick. He snuck on the ship and stowed away as the invasion came to a close and finally left. It didn't take long for Cal to be found out and dragged to the feet of Jarous himself. With his quick tongue and the surrendering of most of his earnings from the ransacking, he was allowed to keep his head, and even in the crew. It didn't surprise him that most of the crew didn't like him at first, but after a while they became a close knit family. Stealing, killing, charming became less of a hobby and more of a job, which was right up Cal's alley. Under the tutoring of Jarous and several other crew members he became a master swordsman, often outclassing his tutors.But like all good things, it had to come to an end. When Cal turned 18 the navy from some nation we had stole from found us. This was nothing new, and honestly we thought nothing of it. A few tricks and cannon shots and we move on to the next city. That's not how it happened. The last thing Cal remembers of that day is the ship rocking from each cannon shot as we were surrounded and then waking up in a disaster of fire and wood. Over two more years he has lost more friends then he can count, to the point where no really is a friend. Just an acquaintance, a lover, or an enemy. Now Cal spends his days drinking, killing or stealing for a profit, training and drinking some more.
Cascius is a tiefling paladin
Cascius's parents lived in a very religious town known for the great clerics and priests that come from there. Unbeknownst to his father, Valirus, an ancient ancestor of his made a secret dealing with a devil, and that deal poisoned their bloodline with an infernal touch and unfortunately Valirus was the one to reap what was sown all those years ago. Cascius's parents were horrified to see their baby boy turn out to be a demon spawn, but couldn't bring themselves to kill him, he was still their child. For years they kept him hidden, teaching him good morals, trying to combat the supposed evil in him with teachings of good (they didn't know that tieflings aren't inherently bad). While he loved his parents, and was relatively happy, his curiosity grew each day. He wanted to explore the outside world, and help it. The stories his parents told of heroes who fight off the evils of the world, only stoked the fire that was his curiosity and made him want to be one of those heroes. One day when he was older he snuck out of the house during the night, to finally see outside. As soon as he stepped outside he was bombarded with new sights and smells he never knew before. The feeling of the wind on his skin, the after smell of rain, the faint flashes of lightning bugs. He stood there stunned at the beauty that beheld him. His parents had told him stories but nothing amounted to feeling it. A passerby guard say the small demon standing in front of Valirus's house and drew his sword calling for back up, startling Cascius from his daze. Fear bubbled in his stomach as the fight or flight response in his body kicked in and he ran. As he did he heard commotion behind him, doors opening, guards yelling people screaming. One sound made him skip a beat and look back. His mother and father screaming in anguish. Fear and anger, and sadness contorting their faces as they wept. They knew their son was either to be burned alive, or exiled to the evils beyond safety. In the moment of hesitation a cleric guard shot a Sacred Fire at Cascius burning the right half of his face and shoulder. Cascius screamed in pain, but he knew he had to run if he were to survive. He called upon his god to help him. He asked it to forgive his evil existence and give him strength. For a moment Cascius felt a flash within himself, as the pain subsided and he was given new strength. Cascius got up and ran with all of his might escaping into a nearby forest notorious of monsters and other evil beings. Cascius trudged through the forest picking up weapons from the skeletons of past adventurers. He learned to fight with the help of his god. His fighting spirit never burned out no matter the peril he faced. The stories and lessons his parents taught him burned into his soul, as he vowed to be a great hero and save everyone. No matter what they seem to be. He will be the one to purge only the real evil and save everyone else. Years later Cascius's burns have scarred over.He would have been a handsome man, if it weren't for the burns and being part devil, ruining his chances of ever finding love. Though he laments this loss at his worst moments most of the time he doesn't care as long as he achieves his dream of being the ultimate hero. Now he is clad in thick heavy armor and dons a helmet to hide his true form, wielding a mighty shield and sword
Keros' protectorate, Fushfirath, sits on the precipice of an abyss. His role there was to drive back the denizens from the dark below that would seek to escape it. Mostly they were things that would stray toward the light and could be driven back down, sometimes they were more malevolent entities that they had to destroy. That was until the sahuagin mounted an assault, he was knocked unconscious in the fray and dragged below. His comrades, believing him dead, did not pursue.
When he regained consciousness he found himself in a abandoned city, it’s architecture alien and unnatural. Things oozed from the mud and strange plants grew on the walls. There was no light from the surface this deep down. Nothing appeared to stir, so weary and injured he sought sanctuary in one of buildings to rest and recover. As sleep took him, the chant began. Quiet, like a distant heartbeat, slowly building in depth. The lower it became, the more he could feel it shaking his very being. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”. Over and over again. Oily black tentacles wrapped around him and dragged him further into the dark until there was only the chant and the nothingness.
Overcome with unfathomable dread he started awake with a need to get as far away as possible. He did not hesitate, he headed up, he did not stop when he saw the light once more, he did not stop as he passed the mouth of the abyss and his protectorate, he continued for countless fathoms until he broke the surface. There he lay floating, gazing wearily into the dry sky until the night’s stars rose. He allowed himself to slip away once more. The ever present chant now distant. The reaching tentacles in the darkness far below.
He awoke aboard a ship, surrounded by surface-dwellers. He came to know them over time and became part of the crew. He felt safer here, away from the abyss. The Sinful Shark became his new protectorate. He rose through the ranks to Quartermaster, running the ship during the night as many of the crew and the captain slept. He frequented many ports. Land didn’t move and that confused him greatly so he rarely ventured far inland.
Until now... The chant has returned in his nightmares. In an attempt to escape them he's left his ship and is venturing inland. Away from the depths, away from the thing that should not be.
Stord of the Red Oak. Warhammer Weilding Dwarf Paladin
Born in a simple village situated in the foothills if a vast mountain range, Stord was the son of two loving parents. His father was a highly venerated metalsmith (Hos), crafting mail, weapons, and horseshoes as an art form. Stord's mother (Gliss) was a worshipper at a nearby druid temple. While she would never admit to it, many villagers believe she was actually a priestess. She carried a long wooden and gnarled staff.
Stord was raised working in his father's forge and following his mother through nature. While the family had no household gods, they had a deep reverence and respect for nature and the natural order of things. Rather than offering sacrifices to this or the other god, Stord and his family offered their thanks to nature with every harvest, every game kill, and every piece of firewood.
As Stord was making a delivery for his father in late autumn, the villiage was raided by orcs from the peaks of the mountain. They targeted the forge first, breaking up he kiln and setting fire to the building Stord had grown up in. On their way out the fire spread to the garden that Gliss had sung over for seasons. As she tried to save her plants, the fire overtook her and Hos.
Stord arrived back home to see his childhood home razed and his hopes of a future crushed. Cleaning out his father's forge he found his father's last project. A hammer of the finest steel, engraved with leaves from a red oak. Leaving the forge, Storn saw his mother's staff. Saved from the fire by some miracle. Using the skills he had mastered, Stord attached the head of the hammer to the staff creating a massive warhammer.
Striking out on his own, Stord made his way up the mountain. Anger brewed in his heart as he approached the camp of the orcs. Seeing a copse of trees to the side, he reconnoitered the camp. In the trees, he felt a growing strength in his arms as he clutched the hammer. Walking towards the 10 bedraggled orcs drunk on the success and fruits of their latest raid, Stord had never felt more capable.
Striking the first two orcs with twin diagonal smashes he felt the satisfying crunch of shoulder, collarbone and spine. Before the other 8 could react, Stord threw a hammer from his belt smashing the nose of a rising orc.
As two charged him, Stord made a stabbing motion in the solar plexus of the first and kicked the second bodily in the chest. Satisfied with the two crushed and disparaged orcs in front of him he moved forward bringing his hammer up ti meet a knee of a charging would-be combatant.
Working his way deeper into the camp, Stord rained cold iron on heads, joints, and any other vulnerable point. Finally, he stood facing the leader of the orcs; a brute of 7 feet tall weilding a mighty double bladed axe.
Stord stood firm as he was assailed by an opponent out matching him in skill, ferocity, and (most notably) size. As the Battle raged on, Stord could feel a rejuvenating force coming from the group of trees behind him. While the great orc got weaker with each stroke Stord was growing bolder and stronger.
Finally he sidestepped an axe stroke and his oppenent over stretched and buried his ax io to the the hilt in dirt. Stord brought his boot down on the shaft of the axe and used his momentum to crush the skull of the final orc.
From that day on, Stord swore to have no home and now land. He couldn't bear to have his life ripped away from him. He chooses rather to sleep amongst the trees and follow the forest paths.
This is my first time playing and my first character. This is what I have so far. We start playing this friday. I don't know much about DnD but I took a shot at it anyway. Also, I'm not sure on the name to give my character. I am thinking of Aeson or Ridak. Not sure how Elfish they sound though.
High Elf Ranger
Outlander-Exile, outcast
My family, which consisted of my older brother Devorin, my parents and I, lived in a small village near the forest called Deeppine.
Life with my family was great. I was 5 years old and even though by Elf standards I was still considered young, I started learning Elvin ways of fighting, magic spells and music. I tend to favor the pan flute and have become quite proficient at it.
Early one morning before dawn, Devorin took me into the forest and told me there was something important he needed to give me. He talked of its importance to our family and to guard it with my life if necessary. Before he could tell me anymore, we heard the sound of Gnolls attacking our village. We ran to find the Gnolls rampaging and killing all they could, even devouring some Elves. Devorin told me to run away. I ran into the forest and hid in a hollowed out tree stump. When it was over, I ran back to find Devorin. He was nowhere to be found. Only his pack remained, which was torn and stained with blood. I opened it and found a small block of something unknown to me. It must have been about an ounce. It was light green and glowed a bit when I held it to the sun light. The others in my village were either dead, had run away or were taken by the Gnolls. While not all of our villagers were fighters, they would still defend the village with everything they had. Several dead Gnolls were proof of this.
I lost my family and my village in one day all because the Gnolls decided to attack my village. Feeling lost and alone, I went into the forest. I was taken in by a pack of wolves and never really left the forest. I found a natural connection with nature and the wolves, as well as other animals, owls being my favorite. My very first owl, Mistwing, was also killed by Gnolls. To remember him and what the Gnolls had done to my clan, I carry one of his talons in my pack.
As time went on, I found Devorin was still alive, by way of a traveling wizard named Molic Grey, but that he had been enslaved by the Gnolls. Devorin was in chains and heavily guarded, but had just enough time to tell Molic what had happened that day and hoped that I had avoided the Gnolls. It then became my quest to find Devorin, free him and hope he could tell me what this unknown object is and maybe more importantly what it does.
The wizard, who Devorin had encountered, told me he was to be my guide, and while he was in fact a human and not an Elf, he knew quite a lot of Elf ways. In his travels, he had come across many Elf villages and towns and learned much of their culture. He would teach me all he knew about being an Elf.
I am now 258 years old and still searching for my brother, Devorin and the all important family heirloom he told me about.
Var Human Rogue Scout with Sharpshooter feat. I have tried to drop several hooks into the story for my GM to use as he sees fit.
Gareth's backstory is really the tale of 2 noble families - one poor, one rich. On one side - House Cairn. The tiny poor fiefdom needs the disputed forest resources that lay just beyond their northern border. On the other side is the Elven House Meliamne (Oakenheel) who insist the forest resources belong to the Elves and will not be consumed by humans who have no respect for nature.
This has led to many, many conflicts between the 2 nations.
In past years, the Elf leader had negotiated deals with House Cairn only to have the next generation of human nobles restart the old conflicts. Just when it seemed there was to be no end of blood shed, She surprised all by offering a way out of the endless conflict. Both houses would trade noble born child hostages. Fail to keep the peace and their lives could be forfeit. And thus, Gareth was raised by Elves. It was not a good experience - the Elf leader treated him fairly but with little familial warmth. Gareth was a political calculation. The Elven court were worse. His new Elf siblings and cousins were terrible to him. He learned to negotiate the politics of the Elven court but plotted how he might escape the torment.
His opportunity came when he learned of the Aust Drusilya (roughly translated as the Dryad's Dream). This small elite military unit of skirmishers fought with tactics that were guerrilla in nature - strike from far and vanish before your enemies could retaliate. The 2 families by this time began to repatriate their children. Gareth however instead was granted dispensation by the Elf leader to join the skirmishers. He survived and thrived. It was the first time he felt he belonged anywhere. He even adopted the name given to him by the other skirmishers - FarrBow. His accuracy at long range and ability to hit targets behind cover was renowned among his fellow elvish skirmishers.
He currently adventures far from his home and has little desire to return to the lands of conflict - which suits his ambitious and homicidal siblings just fine as they compete to be the next leader of House Cairn. They would think nothing of murdering others who might contend.
This is backstory for my Fey touched Tiefling Cleric: Elora Tanglepuff. This is part of my boyfriend's campaign and Ashol is actually a character he made to be her companion which is why he isn't mentioned THAT much, but is still relevant to her backstory. Enjoy!
Unlike her counterparts, Elora's features weren't as demonic. She had a very soft looking face, with bright green eyes that looked like emeralds shining int he sun. Her hair flowed down past her but the colors of pink and blue seeming to mix together in a beautiful way, completely standing out compared to the pale pinkish complexion of her skin. Her horns looked like that of a young male deer colored white like the snow. Even with such a beautiful complexion, most humans wouldn't dare go near her because in this day and age, if you aren't human you aren't really welcome.
The first memories of my life were the warmth of the light that streamed through dusty, yellowed windows of the temple. I was just a child at the time, sometimes I wish I could go back to those days. Those happy, carefree days. The head priest always said I had the best potential out of all the children, I quickly learned the best ways to deceive those that I came across. It soon became easy for me to earn gold, playing tricks on the unsuspecting traveler, or just some random fold I find on the street was no challenge at all. Sometimes days were hard. Being an orphan always was. Head Priest Phalan was the closet thing I could ever get to a father or parental figure. When I was just a infant both my parents had died in a horrible ambush traveling from the Forests of Listral, to the City of Yrlon. Phalan had said they had been attacked by a horde of Hezrou. Luckily for me group of mercenaries had come across them before they had the chance to do any harm to me. They brought me to the temple, where Phalan and the other priest watched over me and other orphaned creatures, because no human would ever want to take care of a tiefling, even one born of the fey bloodline.
As I grew older, I became bored with the cramped space of the Temple. Phalan could tell that I wanted out, that I wanted to see the world that lay beyond the forest of Listral. The town of Joldar was the only place I knew of in the world. Every day I walked the same old streets, conning the same old people day after day, slowly saving up the copper and gold pieces that I deceptively took from each person I came across. Soon I had also learned to use other sorts of illusions taught to me by Phalan. I could make myself look completely different I could even make a double of myself from time to time, just to throw off the unsuspecting patrons that came across me every so often. Even though life was dull, it was safe.
At least...until they attacked.
They came in the middle of the night, screams could be heard throughout the town and the temple as people were being slaughtered in their homes and in the streets. A large band of Hezrou had come to pillage and kill. It was the most frightening moment of my life. Phalan gathered all of us that weren't trained in combat and told us to run for the forests and hide wherever we could. Of course me being the stubborn tiefling that I've always been decided I would disobey and stay. I ran out into the streets of Listral with nothing but a small dagger in hand. No matter what I would slay one of the creatures that stole my parents from me. I didn't care what it took, so long as I say one of their heads laying at my feet. At least, I thought it would be as simple as that, but of course it really wasn't. Coming upon my first one, I was taken by surprise at the sheer size and height of it. This large frog like creature just towered over me as it was slowly devouring a body that it held in it's hand. What was I thinking?
"Elora!" I turned and saw Phalan running at me with Ashol, another orphan just like me, in tow. "Elora get away from it!" He shouted as I stepped to the side, I watched as Phalan ran up to the beast and began slicing at it with all his might, before we both heard him yell again. "You guys need to run away from here please. Run away and don't look b-" before he could even finish the Hezrou grab him around his waist and crushed him in his hands. I screamed seeing him lay limp in the creatures hands. I wanted to fall to the ground and cry, but luckily Ashol was still there and he grabbed me by the hand and we ran and ran and ran for what seemed like hours, before the first light of day finally broke through the cover of the forests. "Are you alright Elora?" Ashol's voice drifted to my ears, I heard him, but couldn't bring myself to respond, because I knew if I did, I'd wind up crying, and this was no time to be such a weakling. I didn't know Ashol too well as I had kept to myself mostly but he seemed nice. He was Red Dragonborn and towered over me, but he made sure to frighten me or abandon me, when he very much could have. After a few more moments of trekking through what seemed to be never ending forest, we finally came to what hopefully was the end. What lay ahead of us were fields and a winding road that seemed to lead to a small village in the distance.
The two of us made our way there and with luck and a little bit of persuasion convinced the inn owner to let us stay for the night, so we could decide our next move. That very next morning I asked Ashol if he'd prefer it if we went our separate ways. My inner self didn't really want to be alone, but we knew nothing of each other really and I'm sure he wouldn't want to travel with a weakling like me. "I think it'd be best if we stayed together, Elora. Phalan and the others aren't here to protect us anymore, it's just us." He was right whether we liked it or not, we were now on our own. And so, our long journey began, we traveled from town to town, swindling anyone that crossed our paths along the way. We soon were able to make a modest amount of gold which made it easier for us to buy supplies, armor and even weapons. We soon became mercenaries of sorts although we never really stayed in one place for long. Ashol always seemed to have a watchful eye over me. I guess in a way, he knew I needed him to lean on. Some nights, I had terrible nightmares of that terrible night. Even though years had passed since then, the image of Phalan's limp body in the hands of the beast still haunt me. I always told Ashol I hope we come across them again, so I can destroy them like they destroyed our home. They took everything from us. He would just smile a little knowing full well that I meant what I said. I may not be as strong as him but I'm determined to find them and kill them all.
A friend came with the idea of playing siblings in a possible next campaign and this my first version of the backstory for my Dragonborn ranger.
I’ve never known my original family. The only connection I have to them is a toy dragon, and a letter containing the 3 draconic words “Balasar, forgive me.” My Elven parents figure that I was abandoned the day that I was born. And that my stepfather and stepbrother found me the next morning while they were out hunting, they heard me crying and found a baby copper Dragonborn wandering the woods. They took me back to their home and decide to adopt me into their family even though they were already expecting extra mouth to feed with the mother only being a few days away from delivery. With none of the house able to read draconic and not knowing what my name was, they decided to name me Naill on the day that my baby sister was named Ara. Soon my new family realized that raising an energetic, acid-spitting, fast-growing Dragonborn on an Elven timespan was not going to work. So they sped up the process taking me on hunts by de age of ten (making Ara very jealous), and celebrating adulthood by the age of 16. That day two things happend. First I choose my adult name Riardon as was custom in elven culture, and second I realized how different I was compared to Elves. Even if I were to live a full live I would never seen my sister celebrating her adulthood. Thus I started to question my place in their community. On the day’s we weren’t out hunting I would head to the library to look up information about Dragonborn’s and to teach myself draconic, Ara would join me in those moments to read the stories of legendary archers. Life continued like this for another 9 years and Ara was finally allowed to start training with weapons. But instead for learning to hunt like I was, she wanted to learn to fight as the archers she read about. On my 25th birthday I told my family that I wanted to find out were I came from. And the next day I said my goodbye’s and set out to find answers, after a day’s travel I was preparing to climb into a tree to sleep through the night when I heard twigs snapping, I readied my bow incase it was hostile but I was not prepared to see Ara stumbling out of the brush. She stood up, smiled and asked what we had for dinner. Apparently she had snuck out to travel along side me, stating that she wasn’t going to learn to shoot as a legendary archer by staying in the village. Knowing she would sneak away again I decided I would let her stay with me. And so we set out to help each other find the knowledge that we seek.
After the humans declared war on the wood elves, I became an assassin, working alone and killing targets like important generals. we were winning, but for some reason my family didn't like that. they gave an anonymous tip off to the location of the wood elves main base. to avoid certain execution, we ran away. after the war ended, we were regarded as aristocrats in human society because the humans would never have won the 4017th war against the elves. I was banished from my family for getting a tattoo in magic ink that turned the lower half of my face into a snakes mouth. i joined the assassins conclave and became the best assassin in the wold. there are 3 ways to end a disagreement, a fight, diplomacy, or a chess game.
(this is rather short because it is only a summary)
Oo, this is going to take a while, but I'm putting multiple characters in this post. It's not possible to pick one.
So one of my first characters to have a serious and meaningful backstory is a draconic origin sorcerer white dragonborn. Years before he was born, the white dragon that his tribe came from was killed by an ancient red dragon named Gorstona, that took his people in as slaves. He gave the first of the tribe his blood so he could have sorcerers to act as powerful slaves that still wouldn't be able to overpower him. Then the character was born, named Dargora Gorstona, who is a chaotic good 7 year old that wants to help, be it if people want his help or by force. He tries to not use his powers, trying to stick to finesse weapons, but they overflow making him have to use them every other turn. His family passed down a scarf that's been tattered over ages, owned first by the original dragonborn to hatch in the tribe. They helped him escape at risk of their lives, with the dragon Gorstona not allowing any to leave. He became an adventurer that mostly seeks to give his strength to others by helping adventurers fight or freeing slaves and prisoners.
My most recent to be used is named Purp Ralyre, a bard. He's from a homebrew race I made that doesn't usually show themselves to other humanoids called Anthrofungi, and they usually die after having children, because of their life cycle. When he was a child, he went to a town that took him in and brought him to school. He taught himself instruments, and was quite the charismatic showman, who was murderous and unpredictable. Given his personality and his alignment being chaotic evil, when a close friend of him made fun of his passion, he put him to sleep and then devoured his body. Other's were questioned where he went, and as soon as he heard of people wondering where he was, he told them all of what he did. He was sent to the prison of the town for 2 decades, making a reputation among the prisoners as a lunatic. Getting out early for his manners and good behavior, he immediately killed another person and skipped town. He then traveled the world to become a well renowned bard, killing all he saw fit to kill, and conversed with the skull of his dear friend he killed all the years ago.
This is a character that I wanted to try out, because of how conflicting it sounds at first. A young Kalashtar, born as an orphan not knowing of his lineage, named Koratani Delmir. His guardian spirit Tari would always push him to doing good and worshiping the gods, but he took the guidance the wrong way. He started to study the goddess Loviatar, to learn how you should worship and do bidding for her. He thought the truest way to server this goddess of death was to bear the sins of murder to set others free to death, and please her. He knows of his evil, lawful it may be, but his guardian spirit worries for him and still pushes him to do things right as he conflicts with his bloodlines nature and the path he's chosen. He always lets his victims die in honor, and understands their positions first.
This character was made to have one with a tortured spirit, but in a literal way, and not turn out evil. A Gith named Shworn Chrovatakin woke up, strapped to a table in an experimentation room. He knew that his people were once slaves to mindflayers, but thought that something like the position he was in wouldn't happen again. He saw a mindflayer that looked like he was well versed in wizardry, as he came over to perform experiments on him. The mindflayer wanted to see the limits of a body in the experimentation of both magic and psionics. He could hear the word the mindflayer spoke as he said aloud logs of his findings to store in his memory, learning that his name was Alteriyath. The first project involved necrotic magic, as he tried to replace his leg with that of another Gith that they enchanted. His leg became cursed with flesh rot and the ability to cast infestation, which resulted in pain and growth of the curse. Another experiment involved a parasitic plant that was enchanted with druidic magic, cursing him with the ability to cast Thorn Whip and gain exhaustion causing the curse to grow more. Eventually he noticed that the mindflayers started evacuating, throwing him tired and beaten into a pile of corpses. His limbs were altered and he noticed his eyes had also permanently become pale. He left to still be chaotic good, even after his torture, as he became a barbarian that kept manners, but had a burning rage to find Alteriyath to cure himself and kill him.
This is my favorite character, mostly because of how I played him, but was still a good backstory. An Areni High Elf that trained with rapiers to become an adventurer, named Adol'in Dolva, was a good hearted individual. He trained hard to impress the undead council so that he could one day join their ranks. They then sent him on a mission with a group of others to fight off a demon lord named Infernaliae. When he reached the place, the entire rest of the group was killed, as she noticed him. She took a liking to him, and found him a charming individual. While he was scared for his life, holding out his weapon to fight to his end, she attempted to sway his mind. She told him that his life of good was worthless, and that instead of slaving to work for others, he could join her to have his own fun with the way of evil. She corrupted his mind, making him pure evil, eccentric and presumptuous person, then her first and only warlock. He swore to go back to Arenal one day to kill all Elves of Areni, and especially the undead council.
After the campaign was finished, he was level 20, and never changed his ways from evil. He went back to Areni and slayed all Elves he found after having a family with Infernaliae. Years later he was killed by a hero, and so was his demon lord mistress, as his bloodline of Demonic Elves lived after him.
So some context first. This is a medium sized backstory for character for a homebrew setting I'm playing with friends. It is set in the world of Whend! Whend (which was set in an antiquity setting) being a world that the collaborative worldbuilding group I was apart of had made together for around nine months (more info here), currently on the next world of Aokoa but anyway. My character was a Kiana, one of that world's races (info card here), essentially giant lamia snek people. All art featured here is credited to TechnicolorTraveler, a mod of that WB group, and also DM for this campaign!
Now, without further ado, here is the still medium sized backstory for my Kiana Taoloa Monk, Gulzar!
Gulzar’s story began where all Toaloa stories do, in the deep jungles of the Sassarana jungle. Unlike other Taoloa however, Gulzar didn’t find herself in a well connected and thriving jungle community when she finally broke free of her egg prison. When Gulzar came into this world, it was alone, in a single, solitary hut, where only her expecting mother was. Gulzar lived with her mother Gulshan ever since. The two of them live secluded in their hut together, learning to live with the jungle, and occasionally going to the nearby village when deemed necessary.
While all Taoloa revere the jungle, Gulzar felt a special connection with it, a strong and almost inseparable bond with the earth itself. Whether it was a lack of a social life, or something else, something compelled Gulzar to wonder the jungles, to live in it, breath in it, and learn from it. She came upon hidden springs, the tallest of trees, and ruins, any ruins, both old and forgotten. All these things fascinated Gulzar, and compelled her to seek more of them out within her jungle home. Learning to live with the jungle, also meant she had time to learn of the divinity associated with these things. Tsenesh, patron god of the Taoloa, he was the god of plants, ruins, and forgotten lore. Gulzar had a deep spirituality about her, that she held most high. She spent many years in the jungle, in retreat of even her already secluded home, meditating and coming to grips with reality. Trying to comprehend the majesty and divinity of her patron god, and others too. Obua, the great Mother Goddess of the Kiana, the bearer of all Gods and embodiment of the earth, also gained much respect and veneration from the young Gulzar for more reasons that one.
Gulzar expressed her devotion to these deities in a number of ways. Simply seeking out ruins, and meditating upon them was one, but Gulzar also had another way, and it was through music. The Taoloa was given a flute from her mother at a very young age, and it was one of the few possessions Gulzar owned, and loved dearly. She was always nervous to play it around other people however, including her mother, and was unable to play her instrument. So she went out into the verdat jungles, allowing only the trees and plants to hear her music of devotion and entertainment. She spent many days playing for the jungle, honing her skills there away from prying ears.
Gulzar would learn that exploration she loved, and mystery she always wished to solve. Her greatest mystery, of course, was that of her own mother. Tall by even Taoloa standards, she was reserved and had a constant stern face about her. Gulzar never really knew why she was born along in the jungle. Her mother had no known husband or partner, and those of the villages knew precious little of her. Gulzard prodded her mother for answers at times, and received even less in return. Nethertheless, the two loved each other, and Gulshan taught Gulzar as much as she could about jungle survival and the art of combat, particular with bow and spear.
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The jungle is a lively and dangerous place however, and after one near fatal experience with a Kosshar, Gulzar was left injured and disorientated within the very bowels of the jungle. Fortunately, the next creatures that happened upon the injured Taoloa weren’t so concerned with her consumption. These individuals were fellow Kiana, specifically, monks of the god Tsenesh. They took the injured Gulzar back to their ‘monastery’, which was, in fact, a massive ruin complex deep within the jungle, easily the largest set of ruins Gulzar had ever laid her eyes on. How she missed it was amazing, and also proof of Tsenesh’s power of hiding knowledge behind nature.
There Gulzar stayed for a night and a day, conversing long with the monks, especially one named Shohreh. The leader of that particular control, and one of the masters of the monastery, Shohreh revealed that this monkhood was intended to protect the sacred places of Tsenesh, to collect and document the ruins and hidden lore of this ancient land, and to achieve spiritual enlightenment within the jungles themselves. Gulzar was of a very like mind, Shohreh said, and Shohreh was more than happy for Gulzar to join the monkood and receive personal tutelage from the master herself.
Allowed to leave for home to make a decision, Gulzar returned to her home to discuss the matter with her mother. After first a scolding for getting ambushed, and then a tense discussion about leaving, Gulshan, with reluctance, gave permission for Gulzar to join the monastery. She was to live her own life, and be finally free of her mother’s grasp as all daughters eventually want to be. The send off was teary, but the decision made. Gulzar was given one final peice of information from her mother however, that her door was always opened for her daughter, should she wished to return for whatever reason.
Training under Shohreh, Gulzar begun to learn the ways of the monk. Her use of the bow and spear was enhanced, and she was taught how to use her body as a weapon itself, especially that of her powerful constriction. Knowledge of Tsenesh and the Gods was taught to Gulzar, the history of the ruins of the Sassarana Jungles highlighted, and languages both present and ancient given focus too. Gulzar was also educated upon the concept of ‘Ki’, a Kiana term for a kind of spiritual, mana like energy that permeates through all creatures, and that some individuals are able to tap into and use as a weapon or enhancement to their own bodies.
Gulzar’s subtle and shy nature did not go unnoticed by Shohreh however, or the monastery at large. While the monastery sought to increase her social skills, more for her sake, they also sought to turn those traits into a tool. Gulzar was trained in the art of stealth and shadows, and she excelled at it. Of course, no progress was made to make her any more sociable, but many of the monasteries masters simply took what they can get. Though Shohreh was the odd one out in this opinion, thinking that there was indeed ways to make the girl less shy and withdrawn.
At the very least, Gulzar formed a bond with Shohreh, and with another student named Vashti. In saying that, the relationship had never progressed beyond a basic level, of student and teacher, of acquaintance to acquaintance. At least in Gulzar’s mind. On numerous occasions, when Shohreh and Vashti attempted to take the relationship to something deeper, or even just hang out with Gulzar for extended periods of time, they were only met with shy deflection and amazing disappearing acts on Gulzar’s part.
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For as enlightening and welcoming as the monastery had been, it wasn’t perfect. Gulzar often found the environment constricting, and too rigid for her liking. There were too many people she thought, and that made her heart pound hard and heavy. Gulzar felt stuck, despite being able to travel all over the Sassarana Jungles in the protection of Tsenesh’s sites. The drive to explore, to discover, to reflect and learn yearned deeply inside Gulzar, and she did not know what to do.
A dream came to her one night. In it she saw key moments of her life play out since her birth. From being able to slither for the first time, to her first kill with a bow, to her playing the lute on sunny day, to the Kosshar attack, to the recent days and months within the monastery. Then Gulzar saw a peculiar, previously hidden path reveal itself through the jungle, leading northward, and there the dream ended. Feeling as if she was divinely inspired, Gulzar went to speak with Shohreh and the monatary’s heads about the dream, asking for permission to go on a kind of vision quest to a hidden spring in the northern section of the jungle. They accepted, and Gulzar went off later that evening.
The whole way her mind was addled by thoughts and visions. She saw visions of moments in her life, and of events perhaps that had yet to come to pass, and questions had begun to arise within her. Questions about her ideals, her relationships, her values, and most strongly, of belonging. What should have been a day’s trip to the spring, turned into a week of almost aimless wandering through the jungle, with an intense, feverish demeanor taking over Gulzar’s mind and body. She eventually collapsed from exhaustion, unknowing of what her fate would be when she woke up.
Upon waking, Gulzar found herself in an entirely different world. Laying on a small hill, Gulzar awoke between realms. In front of her, lay a massive wall of trees that marked the beginning of the mighty Sassarana Jungle. Behind her, lay the beginnings of a wasteland of sand and dust, the Hanan Desert. How Gulzar appeared in this location she did not know, but that mattered little in the circumstances. For the first time in a week, her mind was clear, and for the first time in a very long time, Gulzar felt humbled and small by her surroundings.
She reflected upon the Sassarana Jungle, for how large it was, for how it was the domain of Tsenesh, and of her people, and of her birthplace. It was, ultimately however, only one part of the world, one little slice of it, for the domain of Obua was large and almost infinite in scale. Extending far beyond the range of the Sassarana Jungle, and perhaps even further than that. Spending so long in isolation within the jungle, it had cocooned Gulzar, and stagnated her spiritual growth and development as a person. Gulzar may be an adult now, but for the first time in her life, she felt that she had actual had control over herself. Where to go, what to do, what decision to make. All for herself as well. The Gods had given her a chance to grow and live out her long Kiana life, and she intended to accept this gift to the fullest.
And so, instead of returning to her jungle home, her gilded jungle cage, she turned to the deserts. Disappearing into those sands to end up in who knows where. The Gods were universal, her god was universal, and Gulzar was determined to see Tsenesh’s majesty in the other lands of Whend. She would learn of the forgotten lore of all people, the marvel of the planets and hidden things in the lands that she traveled. She would meditate upon the cycle of the world, and strike down those who dare upturn the Gods’ created order.
And perhaps, one day, she’ll return back home and solve the mystery of her mother too. Perhaps she would learn of it on the road, somehow. The feeling was there, the passion and fury, and Gulzar was the determine to achieve that knowledge she oh so craved now.
Also here are some clay minifigures of Gulzar, also made by the lovely TechnicolorTraveler. Hope you guys enjoyed the read!
I haven't been able to use this guy yet, but here it is.
Name: Leon Valeheart
Leon Valeheart is the sworn defender of Tullia Anluan (my friend's PC, a Redemption Paladin), a princess from a kingdom in the north.When Leon and Tullia were younger, in their late teens, the Anluan and Valeheart families were both rapidly targeted by assassins and annihilated, leaving only Leon and Tullia. They had not heard news of the assassinations, instead witnessing it firsthand when three tried to end Tullia's life. Leon slew them, suffering a slash across the face. When he tried to find his father and the king, they found them both slain in the throne room. Leon and Tullia swore they would avenge their respective fathers, and fled the kingdom.
After some years, Tullia and Leon both much more experienced fighters, they stumbled across a strange group of adventurers...
My first D&D character, a Fiend Warlock I've been working on. It got a bit lengthy....sorry. <REDACTED>
Character: Malfinnius Ravenholm (Formerly Thomas Riley)
Age: 27 Race: Human Class: Warlock Patron: The Fiend Background: Sage Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Faction: Zhentarim
Malfinnius Ravenholm was born Thomas Riley. When he was young his childhood home was raided by the bandits known as The Dracil Raiders. His father was beaten and left for dead. His mother tortured <REDACTED> while he helplessly watched from a hidden storage cellar. When the raiders were finished ransacking his house, one of them stayed behind to set it on fire. As the man was leaving the house Thomas emerged from his hiding space, grabbed a nearby knife and charged the bandits back. Thomas plunged the knife deep into the large man’s back and continued to stab him over and over till the man fell face first to the floor. As Thomas looked up, the leader of the bandits, Dracil, was standing just outside his front door looking in at what had just happened. Dracil screamed, “That’s my brother, you little ****”! As Dracil stepped into the house a loud creaking sounded above. The flame-engulfed roof suddenly came crashing down, landing on top of Dracil’s brother. The smell of cooked fresh and the screams of a burning man filled the air for several seconds, then all fell quiet. Thomas managed to flee from the back of the house during the commotion. He ran to the stables in hopes of riding off on a horse. When he arrived he found his father’s battered and bloody form slumped down the side of a tree next to the stables. He was muttering, almost barely audible “I wasn’t strong enough” over and over again. Each utterance was quieter than the last until he stopped and stared directly into Thomas’ gray eyes and with his dying breath, he said to him “I’m sorry son, I wasn’t strong enough. I’m just a simple farmer. But you, you must survive and become strong, stronger than me, stronger than anyone. It doesn’t matter if you have to make a pact with the ******* devil himself. Make sure you can protect yourself and the ones you hold dear. I’m so sorry….” As Thomas nodded with tears streaming down his soot ridden face, he realized his father was gone.
There were no horses left in the stables so Thomas made his way on foot through the forest. He knew it would take several days to get to the city so before he left he grabbed a small ax, a knife and an old horse blanket from the stables. As he fled his property, he grabbed several apples from a nearby orchard and began his journey through the woods. After several days Thomas finally made it to Waterdeep. As Thomas approached Waterdeep thoughts of relief, a hot bath and a warm meal filled his head. The reality was that no one wanted to pay him any mind. Pitty and disdain were all he received from the city folk. The guards shooed him away when he tried to tell them about the raiders, his family and his farm. The city quickly swallowed him up and to survive Thomas had to adapt. He began stealing to feed himself, he would use trickery and intimidation when needed. Over time he began to grow tall and strong. He learned how to handle himself in a fight and eventually earned a bit of a reputation on the streets. Typically he would only steal from the wealthy and he would never harm anyone unless it was to defend himself. He spent several years within the walls of Waterdeep. His new life taught him to distrust others and to never form bonds with anyone. Like his parents, they would just die someday and leave him alone again. Every time a “kind soul” would offer to help him, they would end up trying to either steal from him, beat him or **** him or all three depending on how depraved they were. Thomas stayed on his own, it was better that way. As time went on Thomas got bored with Waterdeep and started venturing out. He would hunt in the far off woods for days, even weeks at a time. While stocking through a new part of the forest he came across a small house. As he was now practiced to do, Thomas cased the house. He silently snuck around and peered through all the windows. As he looked inside one he saw an old man and two teens about his age, a boy and a girl. The girl was beautiful with red hair, pale creamy skin, and piercing green eyes. The boy was short and stout with dark hair and eyes. For several weeks Thomas would venture through the woods to hunt and would always stop by the old man’s house to watch them. Over time he realized that the old man was a Sorcerer and he was teaching these two kids magic. He learned that the old man was known as Old Man Ravenholm by most. In his prime, he was a powerful Sorcerer and made a bit of a name for himself. The two teenagers were orphans that the man took in. Their names were Mallory and Finnius.
One day when Thomas was watching Mallory and Finnius practice their magic, the old man appeared behind him. He invited Thomas in for tea but being untrusting and feeling a bit ashamed that he was caught spying on the old man and his adopted family, Thomas protested and ran off. Thomas planned on never returning to the old man's house but one day while hunting he found himself drawn to that part of the woods. As he got closer he heard screams and what sounded like blasts of magical energy. Thomas hurried over and saw Mallory running from a large hooded man. Her dress was torn and she was bleeding from the mouth and nose, anger and fear filled her eyes. The man gained on her and eventually caught up with her. Thomas watched from the shadows as he threw her down and tore at her clothing. Anger resonated deep in Thomas’ being. The sight gave him flashbacks of his mother’s **** and torture. His father's dying words floated into his head and he lunged out of the darkness and slammed his quarterstaff down on the hooded figures back and kept slamming it down till Mallory spoke, slightly stuttering: “I th-think, I think he’s de-dead”. After calming and regaining his wits and helping Mallory to her feet, the two of them ran over to the house. As they ran inside he noticed that the old man was on the ground and Finnius was battered and bloody, leaning against the nearest wall. There was another hooded man at his feet with a knife in his back. A third hooded figure was on the ground ablaze in the center of the room. After putting out fires, mending wounds and disposing of bodies. The old man sat down to thank Thomas and once again offer him tea.
Over the next few years, Thomas lived with the old man and begun learning magic with Mallory and Finnius. The 3 became good friends and he and Mallory quickly became lovers. Thomas found that he had absolutely no knack for magic and was the worst of all three. He never stopped training but it was doing little good. As his life went on with his new family and he enjoyed his alone time with Mallory, he began to feel at peace and he stopped thinking about his mother and father as much. He liked his new life very much.
One day when he was returning from a hunt something felt off as he approached the house. As he stepped through the front door, his heart sank as he saw the old man dead on the floor, blood pooled under his still body. Mallory was held with a knife to her throat and Finnius was being beaten by 3 men in the corner of the room. The man holding Mallory looked familiar and Thomas realized it was Dracil. Dracil explained that he heard rumblings that a boy survived the Riley Farm raid and made his way to Waterdeep. Dracil told Thomas that he had been hunting him for years and that he never forgot how he killed his little brother. Then he slit Mallory’s throat and tossed her to the ground. The image took Thomas back to when he was a boy and he watched as his mother’s throat was slashed, his father's words crept up into his mind repeating over and over. Something primordial whispered from all over and time stopped. A rift in space formed in front of him and a voice came booming though. “I am the demon lord Asmodeus! The vengeance in your soul calls to me boy. You shall be my servant, in my name you shall bring chaos and destruction to this world and in turn I shall grant you my power. As you are now, you are pitiful and weak but I can change that. I can make you stronger, stronger than your father, stronger than any man. Isn’t that what you want? Wasn’t that your poor weak father’s dying wish? Don’t you want my power boy? Say it boy SAY IT NOW! Take me as your master and have my power.” Thomas’ mind raced. He looked at the dead old man, he looked over at Finnius and saw that one of the three men that were beating him had plunged a short sword into his chest. Then he looked at Mallory and found that she was looking back, their eyes met. Something snapped inside and he pulled out his dagger and slashed at his hand. Thomas shouted “BY MY BLOOD, I FORM A PACT WITH YOU, MY NEW MASTER, THE DEMON LORD ASMODEUS!’ Then with a menacing look in his cold gray eyes, he said “Now give me your ******* power” Hideous laughter filled his ears as time started to slowly move again. A burning sensation filled his head as demonic knowledge flooded his mind. Thomas instinctually started casting a spell and found that despite his former lack of magical acuity, he could easily control his new powers. Dracil saw the rift and quickly realized that he might have bitten off more than he could chew and retreated while his men tried to subdue Thomas. After a short but bloody fight, Thomas emerged victorious. He ran to Mallory but knew he was too late. As blood spurt through her open neck, they shared one last kiss before her eye shut and her body went limp.
Asmodeus’ laughter was still bellowing. “Ahahaha very good Thomas, very good, but you are just a fledgling warlock my boy. Learn your new powers and gain strength. When I call on you, you better be ready to do my bidding child.” Thomas paused and looked at all the death around him. His whole life was death; death that he was too weak to prevent. Things were different now though. He had followed his father's advice and made a ******* pact with the devil. He had real power now and it felt amazing. He wanted more. He knew he would do as the demon lord wanted and he would continue to get stronger. He wasn’t helpless anymore, he wasn’t himself anymore. Thomas looked at the rift “I will get stronger and I will be ready, but stop calling me Thomas. I'm no longer that weak little boy. I will no longer watch helplessly while family and friends are murdered ”. He glanced at the bodies of his adopted family, Mallory, Finnius and Old Man Ravenholm and nodded. “Yes, In honor of them,” he thought “The names Malfinnius, Malfinnius Ravenholm, got it? Meanwhile, Dracil was outside listening in, making note of this boy's new identity. Dracil ran off vowing to exact revenge some day.
After putting his friend's bodies to rest and gathering supplies from the old man’s house, Malfinnius returned to Waterdeep and began to take odd jobs and make a name for himself. He traveled all over Faerun and continued to work, train and gain skills. Early on, while he was still beset with vengeance and rage, he met Davra. Davra kept him busy with work and slowly tried to teach him to deal with his loss and anger. The two became good friends, so good that Malfinnius took a job to raid a Dragon’s lair just to help the woman out. In return, he pissed off the Dragon Wokief by stealing from his treasure trove. Thankfully Wokief was preoccupied with the rest of his treasures and decided not to hunt Malfinnius down. Davra eventually recruited him into the Zhentarim faction.
During his many adventures throughout Fearun, Malfinnius crossed paths with a beautiful and cunning woman named Trista Shadowed. Over time they developed mutual respect for one another and for a short while became lovers. Trista taught Malfinnius in the ways of deception and persuasion, helping him hone his skills. The two last parted ways knowing that they made better friends and allies then lovers and are still very fond of each other to this day. Over the last year or so Malfinnius has been in and around Daggerford taking jobs as he likes. He has been staying at the Lady Luck and has gained favor with the owner Sherlen Miller. The patrons know that if they get out of hand while Malfinnius is around they just might get an Eldritch Blast to the backside. Because of his fondness for the tavern, he often refers to it as ‘his tavern” though he has no real stake in the place.
Malfinnius is currently in Daggerford looking for bigger, more challenging jobs. He is seeking more knowledge and power. He is loyal to his comrades but will not hesitate to act if a magical scroll, item or even a piece of vital knowledge is within his grasp. His time on the streets has made him cunning and deceptive while his tall muscular stature and cold deathly gray eyes have made him somewhat intimidating. He is no stranger to death and killing but never enjoys it. He is eager to gain more and more power in hopes that when his master calls, he will be ready. Not ready to do his bidding but rather, ready and strong enough to defy the demon lord Asmodeus, should he ask Malfinnius to defy his very nature.
My "Light Cannon" Cleric
My first memories are of the sunlight coming through the window of our bedroom. I remember both loving it’s warmth, and being afraid of it at the same time. The heat reminded me of the flames which took my family, and left my partially scarred. At the same time, I knew without the Sun, there would be no life at all. That was the duality of its nature. It was both a blessing and a curse. These are the teachings of the ministry I lived in. The orphanage I was placed in after the fire, The temple of Lathander.
I had only vague memories of my mother and father, and as I grew older and more versed in the word of Lathander, they faded into just faces. I miss them, but I feel no sense of loss. In their passing, I gained a purpose. I was placed upon a path. Through my study, and my faith, I have achieved power and wisdom. I have also seen the anguish and despair, and depravity of those who are not as enlightened, or have shunned the light.
I have decided to take my faith, as well as my mace, and go forth from the temple. I yearn to see the world, and do his bidding. To spread the word, to aid the people who are in need, and to smite those who stand in his way. Like the Sun, my fires burn hot. I am both nurturing and blazing. I can aid and cause great suffering. Such is the word of Lathander. Such is my will. My name is Cinwin Anwin.
POG SHADOWCLOAK
Svirfneblin, multiclass: Fighter (Arcane Archer) & Druid (Circle of the Land: Underdark), Background: Urchin, Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Pog was born in the Underdark to a Svirfneblin mother who died in childbirth. He never knew who his Svirfneblin father was. He spent his childhood and youth living as an urchin in Mantol-Derith, a trading city in an underground cavern three miles below the surface, on the shores of the Darklake, in a region known as the Northdark (north and east of the surface city of Waterdeep).
Mantol-Derith's cavern was filled with waterfalls, pools, and streams, and Pog spent lots of time near these underground bodies of water, fascinated by the subterranean life in these pools, particularly various bioluminescent freshwater seahorses that dwelt in these waters. The cavern's walls were filled with multicolored crystals and gems, and the city itself primarily consisted of trade caravans and campsites. Small groups of merchants in the town represented many races: drow, illithid, svirfneblin, and duergar. Even bugbear merchants were often spotted there.
In his late teen years, Pog began to wander farther and farther from the city itself, drawn by his natural gnomish curiosity. On one of his Underdark jaunts, at the age of 20, he fell into a kobold trap, leading to his imprisonment at a kobold prison / forced-labor camp. He spent three years imprisoned there; during most of that time, his cellmate was a drow named Ivellioz Da'kiir, who eventually became his truest and only friend notwithstanding the typical animosity between the deep gnomes and the drow. Understandably, Pog came to hate kobolds, more even than most members of his race already do.
Eventually, Pog and Ivellioz managed to escape from the prison. It was Ivellioz who then initiated Pog into the ways of Arcane Archery. Together, the two traveled far and wide throughout the Underdark for close to 15 years, during which time Pog honed his archery skills as a fighter and also became drawn to the Druidic path known as the Circle of the Land, deepening his affinity with the myriad odd forms of plant and animal life living in the Underdark and on those mountain slopes where he and Ivellioz would occasionally emerge to peer at the sun and stars.
There came a time when Ivellioz received word his family needed him for some urgent business, something he had to handle on his own, and he and Pog parted ways, but Pog's life of adventuring would continue...
FYI, as an aside, the aforementioned Ivellioz Da'kiir is the younger brother of Fellozial Da'kiir, the namesake of my Fellozial's Ultimate Guide to Poison over at DMs Guild... ;)
Author of Fellozial's Ultimate Guide to Poison, The Primal Gith, and other forthcoming titles at DMs Guild
Franz Walker
A dark elf kicked out of the Underdark over a political squabble when he was only 20 years old, his parents were part of the minority that rejected the cruelty of their people. After his journey to the surface, it didn't take long for the prevailing thoughts of the surface dwellers on Drow to lead Franz to a life of lies, disguises, and gambling to make enough coin to eat with.
For several years, this went on until a kind servant of a passing noble advised Franz to learn the ways of the traveling minstrel, playing songs and telling tales of heroes for lodging. After this, Franz became enamored with stories and picked up a lute to practice with. He understood quickly that the better the stories he could tell, the better lodgings he could take up, and the better the food and drink he was offered. His favorite story to start with was a bit outrageous, he pretended to be half elf, half goliath. The irony coming from the fact that he was only five feet tall. He became quite popular as a bard in several small towns along a route between Waterdeep, and Neverwinter.
Soon enough, Franz decided to learn better magics at Neverwinter Academy, while taking special research projects that sent him to study at the nearby Hold dedicated to Helm. Franz was always eager to study the magic done by the paladins there, and soon befriended several of them. He would always have to refuse the invitations to festivals, or events held during the day else the daylight would burn him through the makeup, his natural excuse being studying at the academy from early morning until evening.
His friends at the hold wouldn't let him say no for too long though. After extracting his birthday from Franz over drinks one night, they planned to surprise him at the academy the morning of. They made the arrangements to have his current project's supervisor let him off for the day and ambushed Franz on the way to the lab. Franz couldn't well refuse the invitation to celebrate, but when they took him to the river outside of town he despaired thinking they would try to get him to swim. Luckily this wasn't part of their plan since they knew he didn't like showing much skin even at night. They set out a nice picnic for him along the riverbank and drank a finer wine than normal for the special occasion.
As the day passed, those of his friends that had duties that evening left one by one until only Anne was left with him. She had been getting more and more forward with Franz, thinking he was just supremely dense for how charming he was, though today she had been drinking quickly to gather up the nerve to try to court him. She stood up and took a few steps closer to Franz, but lost her balance and tumbled into the river, knocking her head hard against a rock on the way down.
His body acting faster than his head, he dived in after her. Dragging her limp body back up to the shore, he tried desperately to heal her, but she was already dead. He searched through her belongings to see if there was anything he could use and found a diamond necklace in one of her pockets. Thinking he could work to replace it, he hurriedly cast revivify on her, praying that Helm would let her return. As she coughed, Franz leaned his back against a tree and held his head with the chain from the necklace still hanging off one of his wrists. She sat up slowly and saw him. Franz whispered softly apologizing for using the necklace. She recognized the voice, but couldn't tell if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It looked as though Franz's skin was melting. Soon enough though, she realized that he had saved her life. That a drow had saved her life.
The following conversation ended with Franz deciding to leave the academy in search of a new place to make a living. Anne may have confessed her love for him, but he couldn't let her suffer when he was found out by other less open-minded individuals. He had to leave.
About one hundred years later, Franz is caught up in a mess relating to a cult and some dragons.
This is the backstory for my bard that started at level eight when I joined a Rise of Tiamat campaign. He is currently level nine, and I'm trying to convince my DM to let him take a Warlock level pact of the celestial with Ilmater as his patron so he can be closer to a paladin, and be like the friends he used to know and cherish.
I was invited to play a pathfinder campaign so this is my character for the first dnd or pathfinder campaign I ever played.
Allannia the elven Assasin. She was born into a family who was very magical and racist. She had no magic. Her brother hated her for it. He tortured her by cutting writing into her skin. He nearly killed her 3 times. When she was 11 her parents realized so they kicked her out. She snuck back in and stole some gold and a special poison. Her brother found her, tried to kill her, and mauled her leg before she poisoned him. He ran to get the antidote and she fled. She found a school for assassins and became a rouge. She has a special kind of magic called antimana so she can't be hurt my magic missiles and can destroy magical wards and barriers. She later becomes a dragon lord.
I'm Avery Badman (Ranger/Assassin), I grew up in a fairly small village up north. My father was a guide for travelers and merchants and as I grew older I helped him in this. He was a cold man my father, hard and unbending. And as I grew older neither of us could tolerate the company of the other much, so when I was old enough, I joined the army and left home. I've never been back.
I began as a Scout and hunter, and later on I hunted deserters and dealt the necessary justice to criminals within our ranks. My last assignment, I was sent out after three deserters. It took me a few days but I finally tracked them down. It was then I learned they were all family, a father and his two sons. They'd been conscripted, hadn't wanted to join up but now that they were in, they were willing to serve. So they said. It's just that harvest was due and if they didn't return they'd lose everything, their home, their farm, their crops. Everything. They tried to get leave but were refused, they were conscripts after all. They swore they planned on returning, as I tied and fitted the nooses. They swore it the whole time, right up until they took the final drop and were hung they swore it. They were deserters after all.
I left the army soon after. I work as a bounty hunter now, mostly.
Currently playing two completely different characters, ones a cleric and ones a sorcerer. Tell me who you want to hear about first, please.
Was born an aasimar to the deadly Tosbaan family, one of the few family's capable of gunsmithing. My father wished to turn me into a fallen aasmair to do his terrible bidding but my mother stole me away and fled to an orphanage on the oustskirts of the realm to keep me away from my father. I grew and matured in the orphanage along with my now brothers tormund and stlick, having a natural aptitude towards fighting and weponry from my father I quickly became know throughout the town as someone to go to for dangerous help. Me and my brothers became the town's unofficial protectors and thus made a name for ourselves. My father, being a powerful connected person, soon realised that an aasimar bearing a resemblance to him must be his lost son and quickly rode with his crew to reclaim me as his own. With the influence of his dark master, the demon urekxl, he quickly took over the town while me and my brothers where on a short quest. Upon our return we discovered the town in decay and desolation. We fought valiantly to reclaim our home from the Invaders but having just returned from a quest, were quickly defeated. Bound and broken, the man who orchestrated the siege revealed himself to be my father and soon to be master. Telling me of my birth and how my mother had stolen me from him, he described in vivid detail how he caught my mother and sacrificed her to his dark master, but still she prevailed, relieving no location where to find me. Duncan Tosbaan, the man who claims my heritage, then offers the most wicked of deals in order to secure himself a subservient fallen demi god:; kill my brothers in cold blood and become fallen, or he will burn the town to the ground. My brothers, being of the most honorable men agreed to the deal, pleading with me to end their lives to save the town they love. Seeing no other alternative, my father hands me his corrupted gun, deathspray, and i, with tear soaked face, let loose two shots that cemented my destiny of evil, or so I thought. As the blood stained my skin, it spread and darkened, engulfing the left side of my body and slowly moving up my face, graying my eye. My father being pleased with his conquest, ordered the extinction of the rest of the town, never planning on keeping his word. Hearing this, the angel Azrael's power surged throughout me with vicious fury, stoping the spread of darkness and exploding from my every being in radiant blinding light, completely eradicating all but the most powerful of the demons forces. Seeing his plan fail, Duncan and the rest fled leaving the ash of his men, and the corpses of my brothers behind, vowing to finish his malicious intent. Alone, broken, and afraid of my own power, I buried my brothers and headed out of the town that now sees me with judging and worried eyes for the darkness had taken half of my body. I now seek out the man who cursed me with this face and the never ending visions of my brothers cold lifeless eyes.
Here are a couple of characters I thought of. One is in third person because it's how I originally wrote it, his name is Zyran and he is a Half Orc fighter:
My mother was part of a group of nomadic humans, traveling from city to city, buying and selling. They weren't in the most lucrative of positions but they were getting by, until in the midst of traveling to their next destination Orcs attacked them slaughtering the men and capturing the women. In captivity my mother became pregnant with me...and there I came being held gently in my conflicted mother's arms. I grew up with the clan away from any real "civilization." I guess to me this was civilization. My mother did her best to keep me from becoming the monsters i was being co-raised by, and she succeeded, for the most part. While I'm not in a constant rage like some of my clan-brothers seem to be I have my flashes of anger. To me things were normal, wake up, fight, eat, go to sleep, rinse and repeat, but i could see my mother withering. She hated every second she stayed in that place, and she didn't try and hide it. One day an adult Orc had a little too much to drink and bumped into my mother as she was returning home from some kind of errand. I had never felt so much fury in me and I don't think I ever could. I stabbed the orc through the heart in a fit of rage, my mother looked at me in horror as she saw my blood splattered face and hands. We ran. It was the only thing we could do. We became nomads. Her being a human, and me being an abomination, there wasn't really another life style for us. I was 17 when my mother died of an unknown illness. The priests took one look at my ugly face and refused to heal my mother. That was the one and only day I have ever and will ever cry. And the next day...The anger set in. I was at the city edge in blind rage ready to murder everyone in my sight when i saw a mother and her son buying some fruit in the market. The pure, and innocent laugh the mother gave when the boy goofed off...It reminded me too much of her. The face of horror when I murdered the man that dared strike her. I will never forgive those priests, claiming to be heralds of their god, who will help all... But i won't let my anger control me. Since then I have worked as a farm hand, until people refused to buy food cultivated by me; a docker, until I was accused of killing the fish with my smell; and now currently a sword-for-hire. People who hire people like me don't care what you look like as long as you get the job done. My kind of job.
Callous is a Swashbuckler Rogue, Tiefling :
Callous was always an outsider. I guess that is any different from other people like him, but who cares. Everyone is outsider at some point, even the happiest of people have their lows. While some people fall into the dregs, or fall into evil, Cal decided to take his gorgeous self and become ******* rich. His mother was a secret warlock using dark magics to help run her potion shop. Her potent potions were known all over, in part due to being great at her job and in part living in a port city. Word travels fast when your customers do. One day Elenae must of gotten too close to the dark, and Ta-Daa! The people of his city didn't take lightly to that. She was drove off leaving her newborn son in a city that despise it. One soul took pity on Cal. It wasn't his fault he was an abomination! His foster mother, Garou took pretty good care of him. He was fed, and housed, but that was all she could provide without being ostracized. Growing up Cal grew up to be a charming young boy, while some took this as the devil trying to trick them, a few learned he wasn't...entirely evil. To be fair he wasn't a poster child either. He stole food, and trinkets at almost every chance and after a while he got quite good at it. The children his age who were taught of his "evilness" often started fights. Poked him with sticks and threw things at his beautiful horns, so he did what any self respecting person would do. He learned to poke and throw harder. He practiced sword play with random sticks he found, and when those kept breaking he snuck into a wood-craft shop and stole a wooden sword. After years, of stealing, training, fighting, and charming Cal found his hero... Jarous the famous pirate was having a little visit to his city. The guard never stood a chance, the city was captured within a few hours, as Cal watched in amazement at the sword play of these scurvy scourges. He always thought the guards were the best but seeing them easily outmatched inspired him. Inspired him to ransack too. He never really liked the people and this was his chance to become something more than the street urchin with a stick. He snuck on the ship and stowed away as the invasion came to a close and finally left. It didn't take long for Cal to be found out and dragged to the feet of Jarous himself. With his quick tongue and the surrendering of most of his earnings from the ransacking, he was allowed to keep his head, and even in the crew. It didn't surprise him that most of the crew didn't like him at first, but after a while they became a close knit family. Stealing, killing, charming became less of a hobby and more of a job, which was right up Cal's alley. Under the tutoring of Jarous and several other crew members he became a master swordsman, often outclassing his tutors.But like all good things, it had to come to an end. When Cal turned 18 the navy from some nation we had stole from found us. This was nothing new, and honestly we thought nothing of it. A few tricks and cannon shots and we move on to the next city. That's not how it happened. The last thing Cal remembers of that day is the ship rocking from each cannon shot as we were surrounded and then waking up in a disaster of fire and wood. Over two more years he has lost more friends then he can count, to the point where no really is a friend. Just an acquaintance, a lover, or an enemy. Now Cal spends his days drinking, killing or stealing for a profit, training and drinking some more.
Cascius is a tiefling paladin
Cascius's parents lived in a very religious town known for the great clerics and priests that come from there. Unbeknownst to his father, Valirus, an ancient ancestor of his made a secret dealing with a devil, and that deal poisoned their bloodline with an infernal touch and unfortunately Valirus was the one to reap what was sown all those years ago. Cascius's parents were horrified to see their baby boy turn out to be a demon spawn, but couldn't bring themselves to kill him, he was still their child. For years they kept him hidden, teaching him good morals, trying to combat the supposed evil in him with teachings of good (they didn't know that tieflings aren't inherently bad). While he loved his parents, and was relatively happy, his curiosity grew each day. He wanted to explore the outside world, and help it. The stories his parents told of heroes who fight off the evils of the world, only stoked the fire that was his curiosity and made him want to be one of those heroes. One day when he was older he snuck out of the house during the night, to finally see outside. As soon as he stepped outside he was bombarded with new sights and smells he never knew before. The feeling of the wind on his skin, the after smell of rain, the faint flashes of lightning bugs. He stood there stunned at the beauty that beheld him. His parents had told him stories but nothing amounted to feeling it. A passerby guard say the small demon standing in front of Valirus's house and drew his sword calling for back up, startling Cascius from his daze. Fear bubbled in his stomach as the fight or flight response in his body kicked in and he ran. As he did he heard commotion behind him, doors opening, guards yelling people screaming. One sound made him skip a beat and look back. His mother and father screaming in anguish. Fear and anger, and sadness contorting their faces as they wept. They knew their son was either to be burned alive, or exiled to the evils beyond safety. In the moment of hesitation a cleric guard shot a Sacred Fire at Cascius burning the right half of his face and shoulder. Cascius screamed in pain, but he knew he had to run if he were to survive. He called upon his god to help him. He asked it to forgive his evil existence and give him strength. For a moment Cascius felt a flash within himself, as the pain subsided and he was given new strength. Cascius got up and ran with all of his might escaping into a nearby forest notorious of monsters and other evil beings. Cascius trudged through the forest picking up weapons from the skeletons of past adventurers. He learned to fight with the help of his god. His fighting spirit never burned out no matter the peril he faced. The stories and lessons his parents taught him burned into his soul, as he vowed to be a great hero and save everyone. No matter what they seem to be. He will be the one to purge only the real evil and save everyone else. Years later Cascius's burns have scarred over.He would have been a handsome man, if it weren't for the burns and being part devil, ruining his chances of ever finding love. Though he laments this loss at his worst moments most of the time he doesn't care as long as he achieves his dream of being the ultimate hero. Now he is clad in thick heavy armor and dons a helmet to hide his true form, wielding a mighty shield and sword
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Keros Fushfirath:
Keros' protectorate, Fushfirath, sits on the precipice of an abyss. His role there was to drive back the denizens from the dark below that would seek to escape it. Mostly they were things that would stray toward the light and could be driven back down, sometimes they were more malevolent entities that they had to destroy. That was until the sahuagin mounted an assault, he was knocked unconscious in the fray and dragged below. His comrades, believing him dead, did not pursue.
When he regained consciousness he found himself in a abandoned city, it’s architecture alien and unnatural. Things oozed from the mud and strange plants grew on the walls. There was no light from the surface this deep down. Nothing appeared to stir, so weary and injured he sought sanctuary in one of buildings to rest and recover. As sleep took him, the chant began. Quiet, like a distant heartbeat, slowly building in depth. The lower it became, the more he could feel it shaking his very being. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”. Over and over again. Oily black tentacles wrapped around him and dragged him further into the dark until there was only the chant and the nothingness.
Overcome with unfathomable dread he started awake with a need to get as far away as possible. He did not hesitate, he headed up, he did not stop when he saw the light once more, he did not stop as he passed the mouth of the abyss and his protectorate, he continued for countless fathoms until he broke the surface. There he lay floating, gazing wearily into the dry sky until the night’s stars rose. He allowed himself to slip away once more. The ever present chant now distant. The reaching tentacles in the darkness far below.
He awoke aboard a ship, surrounded by surface-dwellers. He came to know them over time and became part of the crew. He felt safer here, away from the abyss. The Sinful Shark became his new protectorate. He rose through the ranks to Quartermaster, running the ship during the night as many of the crew and the captain slept. He frequented many ports. Land didn’t move and that confused him greatly so he rarely ventured far inland.
Until now... The chant has returned in his nightmares. In an attempt to escape them he's left his ship and is venturing inland. Away from the depths, away from the thing that should not be.
Stord of the Red Oak. Warhammer Weilding Dwarf Paladin
Born in a simple village situated in the foothills if a vast mountain range, Stord was the son of two loving parents. His father was a highly venerated metalsmith (Hos), crafting mail, weapons, and horseshoes as an art form. Stord's mother (Gliss) was a worshipper at a nearby druid temple. While she would never admit to it, many villagers believe she was actually a priestess. She carried a long wooden and gnarled staff.
Stord was raised working in his father's forge and following his mother through nature. While the family had no household gods, they had a deep reverence and respect for nature and the natural order of things. Rather than offering sacrifices to this or the other god, Stord and his family offered their thanks to nature with every harvest, every game kill, and every piece of firewood.
As Stord was making a delivery for his father in late autumn, the villiage was raided by orcs from the peaks of the mountain. They targeted the forge first, breaking up he kiln and setting fire to the building Stord had grown up in. On their way out the fire spread to the garden that Gliss had sung over for seasons. As she tried to save her plants, the fire overtook her and Hos.
Stord arrived back home to see his childhood home razed and his hopes of a future crushed. Cleaning out his father's forge he found his father's last project. A hammer of the finest steel, engraved with leaves from a red oak. Leaving the forge, Storn saw his mother's staff. Saved from the fire by some miracle. Using the skills he had mastered, Stord attached the head of the hammer to the staff creating a massive warhammer.
Striking out on his own, Stord made his way up the mountain. Anger brewed in his heart as he approached the camp of the orcs. Seeing a copse of trees to the side, he reconnoitered the camp. In the trees, he felt a growing strength in his arms as he clutched the hammer. Walking towards the 10 bedraggled orcs drunk on the success and fruits of their latest raid, Stord had never felt more capable.
Striking the first two orcs with twin diagonal smashes he felt the satisfying crunch of shoulder, collarbone and spine. Before the other 8 could react, Stord threw a hammer from his belt smashing the nose of a rising orc.
As two charged him, Stord made a stabbing motion in the solar plexus of the first and kicked the second bodily in the chest. Satisfied with the two crushed and disparaged orcs in front of him he moved forward bringing his hammer up ti meet a knee of a charging would-be combatant.
Working his way deeper into the camp, Stord rained cold iron on heads, joints, and any other vulnerable point. Finally, he stood facing the leader of the orcs; a brute of 7 feet tall weilding a mighty double bladed axe.
Stord stood firm as he was assailed by an opponent out matching him in skill, ferocity, and (most notably) size. As the Battle raged on, Stord could feel a rejuvenating force coming from the group of trees behind him. While the great orc got weaker with each stroke Stord was growing bolder and stronger.
Finally he sidestepped an axe stroke and his oppenent over stretched and buried his ax io to the the hilt in dirt. Stord brought his boot down on the shaft of the axe and used his momentum to crush the skull of the final orc.
From that day on, Stord swore to have no home and now land. He couldn't bear to have his life ripped away from him. He chooses rather to sleep amongst the trees and follow the forest paths.
Hi,
This is my first time playing and my first character. This is what I have so far. We start playing this friday. I don't know much about DnD but I took a shot at it anyway. Also, I'm not sure on the name to give my character. I am thinking of Aeson or Ridak. Not sure how Elfish they sound though.
High Elf Ranger
Outlander-Exile, outcast
My family, which consisted of my older brother Devorin, my parents and I, lived in a small village near the forest called Deeppine.
Life with my family was great. I was 5 years old and even though by Elf standards I was still considered young, I started learning Elvin ways of fighting, magic spells and music. I tend to favor the pan flute and have become quite proficient at it.
Early one morning before dawn, Devorin took me into the forest and told me there was something important he needed to give me. He talked of its importance to our family and to guard it with my life if necessary. Before he could tell me anymore, we heard the sound of Gnolls attacking our village. We ran to find the Gnolls rampaging and killing all they could, even devouring some Elves. Devorin told me to run away. I ran into the forest and hid in a hollowed out tree stump. When it was over, I ran back to find Devorin. He was nowhere to be found. Only his pack remained, which was torn and stained with blood. I opened it and found a small block of something unknown to me. It must have been about an ounce. It was light green and glowed a bit when I held it to the sun light. The others in my village were either dead, had run away or were taken by the Gnolls. While not all of our villagers were fighters, they would still defend the village with everything they had. Several dead Gnolls were proof of this.
I lost my family and my village in one day all because the Gnolls decided to attack my village. Feeling lost and alone, I went into the forest. I was taken in by a pack of wolves and never really left the forest. I found a natural connection with nature and the wolves, as well as other animals, owls being my favorite. My very first owl, Mistwing, was also killed by Gnolls. To remember him and what the Gnolls had done to my clan, I carry one of his talons in my pack.
As time went on, I found Devorin was still alive, by way of a traveling wizard named Molic Grey, but that he had been enslaved by the Gnolls. Devorin was in chains and heavily guarded, but had just enough time to tell Molic what had happened that day and hoped that I had avoided the Gnolls. It then became my quest to find Devorin, free him and hope he could tell me what this unknown object is and maybe more importantly what it does.
The wizard, who Devorin had encountered, told me he was to be my guide, and while he was in fact a human and not an Elf, he knew quite a lot of Elf ways. In his travels, he had come across many Elf villages and towns and learned much of their culture. He would teach me all he knew about being an Elf.
I am now 258 years old and still searching for my brother, Devorin and the all important family heirloom he told me about.
Var Human Rogue Scout with Sharpshooter feat. I have tried to drop several hooks into the story for my GM to use as he sees fit.
Gareth's backstory is really the tale of 2 noble families - one poor, one rich. On one side - House Cairn. The tiny poor fiefdom needs the disputed forest resources that lay just beyond their northern border. On the other side is the Elven House Meliamne (Oakenheel) who insist the forest resources belong to the Elves and will not be consumed by humans who have no respect for nature.
This has led to many, many conflicts between the 2 nations.
In past years, the Elf leader had negotiated deals with House Cairn only to have the next generation of human nobles restart the old conflicts. Just when it seemed there was to be no end of blood shed, She surprised all by offering a way out of the endless conflict. Both houses would trade noble born child hostages. Fail to keep the peace and their lives could be forfeit. And thus, Gareth was raised by Elves. It was not a good experience - the Elf leader treated him fairly but with little familial warmth. Gareth was a political calculation. The Elven court were worse. His new Elf siblings and cousins were terrible to him. He learned to negotiate the politics of the Elven court but plotted how he might escape the torment.
His opportunity came when he learned of the Aust Drusilya (roughly translated as the Dryad's Dream). This small elite military unit of skirmishers fought with tactics that were guerrilla in nature - strike from far and vanish before your enemies could retaliate. The 2 families by this time began to repatriate their children. Gareth however instead was granted dispensation by the Elf leader to join the skirmishers. He survived and thrived. It was the first time he felt he belonged anywhere. He even adopted the name given to him by the other skirmishers - FarrBow. His accuracy at long range and ability to hit targets behind cover was renowned among his fellow elvish skirmishers.
He currently adventures far from his home and has little desire to return to the lands of conflict - which suits his ambitious and homicidal siblings just fine as they compete to be the next leader of House Cairn. They would think nothing of murdering others who might contend.
This is backstory for my Fey touched Tiefling Cleric: Elora Tanglepuff. This is part of my boyfriend's campaign and Ashol is actually a character he made to be her companion which is why he isn't mentioned THAT much, but is still relevant to her backstory. Enjoy!
Unlike her counterparts, Elora's features weren't as demonic. She had a very soft looking face, with bright green eyes that looked like emeralds shining int he sun. Her hair flowed down past her but the colors of pink and blue seeming to mix together in a beautiful way, completely standing out compared to the pale pinkish complexion of her skin. Her horns looked like that of a young male deer colored white like the snow. Even with such a beautiful complexion, most humans wouldn't dare go near her because in this day and age, if you aren't human you aren't really welcome.
The first memories of my life were the warmth of the light that streamed through dusty, yellowed windows of the temple. I was just a child at the time, sometimes I wish I could go back to those days. Those happy, carefree days. The head priest always said I had the best potential out of all the children, I quickly learned the best ways to deceive those that I came across. It soon became easy for me to earn gold, playing tricks on the unsuspecting traveler, or just some random fold I find on the street was no challenge at all. Sometimes days were hard. Being an orphan always was. Head Priest Phalan was the closet thing I could ever get to a father or parental figure. When I was just a infant both my parents had died in a horrible ambush traveling from the Forests of Listral, to the City of Yrlon. Phalan had said they had been attacked by a horde of Hezrou. Luckily for me group of mercenaries had come across them before they had the chance to do any harm to me. They brought me to the temple, where Phalan and the other priest watched over me and other orphaned creatures, because no human would ever want to take care of a tiefling, even one born of the fey bloodline.
As I grew older, I became bored with the cramped space of the Temple. Phalan could tell that I wanted out, that I wanted to see the world that lay beyond the forest of Listral. The town of Joldar was the only place I knew of in the world. Every day I walked the same old streets, conning the same old people day after day, slowly saving up the copper and gold pieces that I deceptively took from each person I came across. Soon I had also learned to use other sorts of illusions taught to me by Phalan. I could make myself look completely different I could even make a double of myself from time to time, just to throw off the unsuspecting patrons that came across me every so often. Even though life was dull, it was safe.
At least...until they attacked.
They came in the middle of the night, screams could be heard throughout the town and the temple as people were being slaughtered in their homes and in the streets. A large band of Hezrou had come to pillage and kill. It was the most frightening moment of my life. Phalan gathered all of us that weren't trained in combat and told us to run for the forests and hide wherever we could. Of course me being the stubborn tiefling that I've always been decided I would disobey and stay. I ran out into the streets of Listral with nothing but a small dagger in hand. No matter what I would slay one of the creatures that stole my parents from me. I didn't care what it took, so long as I say one of their heads laying at my feet. At least, I thought it would be as simple as that, but of course it really wasn't. Coming upon my first one, I was taken by surprise at the sheer size and height of it. This large frog like creature just towered over me as it was slowly devouring a body that it held in it's hand. What was I thinking?
"Elora!" I turned and saw Phalan running at me with Ashol, another orphan just like me, in tow. "Elora get away from it!" He shouted as I stepped to the side, I watched as Phalan ran up to the beast and began slicing at it with all his might, before we both heard him yell again. "You guys need to run away from here please. Run away and don't look b-" before he could even finish the Hezrou grab him around his waist and crushed him in his hands. I screamed seeing him lay limp in the creatures hands. I wanted to fall to the ground and cry, but luckily Ashol was still there and he grabbed me by the hand and we ran and ran and ran for what seemed like hours, before the first light of day finally broke through the cover of the forests. "Are you alright Elora?" Ashol's voice drifted to my ears, I heard him, but couldn't bring myself to respond, because I knew if I did, I'd wind up crying, and this was no time to be such a weakling. I didn't know Ashol too well as I had kept to myself mostly but he seemed nice. He was Red Dragonborn and towered over me, but he made sure to frighten me or abandon me, when he very much could have. After a few more moments of trekking through what seemed to be never ending forest, we finally came to what hopefully was the end. What lay ahead of us were fields and a winding road that seemed to lead to a small village in the distance.
The two of us made our way there and with luck and a little bit of persuasion convinced the inn owner to let us stay for the night, so we could decide our next move. That very next morning I asked Ashol if he'd prefer it if we went our separate ways. My inner self didn't really want to be alone, but we knew nothing of each other really and I'm sure he wouldn't want to travel with a weakling like me. "I think it'd be best if we stayed together, Elora. Phalan and the others aren't here to protect us anymore, it's just us." He was right whether we liked it or not, we were now on our own. And so, our long journey began, we traveled from town to town, swindling anyone that crossed our paths along the way. We soon were able to make a modest amount of gold which made it easier for us to buy supplies, armor and even weapons. We soon became mercenaries of sorts although we never really stayed in one place for long. Ashol always seemed to have a watchful eye over me. I guess in a way, he knew I needed him to lean on. Some nights, I had terrible nightmares of that terrible night. Even though years had passed since then, the image of Phalan's limp body in the hands of the beast still haunt me. I always told Ashol I hope we come across them again, so I can destroy them like they destroyed our home. They took everything from us. He would just smile a little knowing full well that I meant what I said. I may not be as strong as him but I'm determined to find them and kill them all.
A friend came with the idea of playing siblings in a possible next campaign and this my first version of the backstory for my Dragonborn ranger.
I’ve never known my original family. The only connection I have to them is a toy dragon, and a letter containing the 3 draconic words “Balasar, forgive me.” My Elven parents figure that I was abandoned the day that I was born. And that my stepfather and stepbrother found me the next morning while they were out hunting, they heard me crying and found a baby copper Dragonborn wandering the woods. They took me back to their home and decide to adopt me into their family even though they were already expecting extra mouth to feed with the mother only being a few days away from delivery. With none of the house able to read draconic and not knowing what my name was, they decided to name me Naill on the day that my baby sister was named Ara. Soon my new family realized that raising an energetic, acid-spitting, fast-growing Dragonborn on an Elven timespan was not going to work. So they sped up the process taking me on hunts by de age of ten (making Ara very jealous), and celebrating adulthood by the age of 16. That day two things happend. First I choose my adult name Riardon as was custom in elven culture, and second I realized how different I was compared to Elves. Even if I were to live a full live I would never seen my sister celebrating her adulthood. Thus I started to question my place in their community. On the day’s we weren’t out hunting I would head to the library to look up information about Dragonborn’s and to teach myself draconic, Ara would join me in those moments to read the stories of legendary archers. Life continued like this for another 9 years and Ara was finally allowed to start training with weapons. But instead for learning to hunt like I was, she wanted to learn to fight as the archers she read about. On my 25th birthday I told my family that I wanted to find out were I came from. And the next day I said my goodbye’s and set out to find answers, after a day’s travel I was preparing to climb into a tree to sleep through the night when I heard twigs snapping, I readied my bow incase it was hostile but I was not prepared to see Ara stumbling out of the brush. She stood up, smiled and asked what we had for dinner. Apparently she had snuck out to travel along side me, stating that she wasn’t going to learn to shoot as a legendary archer by staying in the village. Knowing she would sneak away again I decided I would let her stay with me. And so we set out to help each other find the knowledge that we seek.
here's my one
her name is Xanphia naïlo
After the humans declared war on the wood elves, I became an assassin, working alone and killing targets like important generals. we were winning, but for some reason my family didn't like that. they gave an anonymous tip off to the location of the wood elves main base. to avoid certain execution, we ran away. after the war ended, we were regarded as aristocrats in human society because the humans would never have won the 4017th war against the elves. I was banished from my family for getting a tattoo in magic ink that turned the lower half of my face into a snakes mouth. i joined the assassins conclave and became the best assassin in the wold. there are 3 ways to end a disagreement, a fight, diplomacy, or a chess game.
(this is rather short because it is only a summary)
Oo, this is going to take a while, but I'm putting multiple characters in this post. It's not possible to pick one.
So one of my first characters to have a serious and meaningful backstory is a draconic origin sorcerer white dragonborn. Years before he was born, the white dragon that his tribe came from was killed by an ancient red dragon named Gorstona, that took his people in as slaves. He gave the first of the tribe his blood so he could have sorcerers to act as powerful slaves that still wouldn't be able to overpower him. Then the character was born, named Dargora Gorstona, who is a chaotic good 7 year old that wants to help, be it if people want his help or by force. He tries to not use his powers, trying to stick to finesse weapons, but they overflow making him have to use them every other turn. His family passed down a scarf that's been tattered over ages, owned first by the original dragonborn to hatch in the tribe. They helped him escape at risk of their lives, with the dragon Gorstona not allowing any to leave. He became an adventurer that mostly seeks to give his strength to others by helping adventurers fight or freeing slaves and prisoners.
My most recent to be used is named Purp Ralyre, a bard. He's from a homebrew race I made that doesn't usually show themselves to other humanoids called Anthrofungi, and they usually die after having children, because of their life cycle. When he was a child, he went to a town that took him in and brought him to school. He taught himself instruments, and was quite the charismatic showman, who was murderous and unpredictable. Given his personality and his alignment being chaotic evil, when a close friend of him made fun of his passion, he put him to sleep and then devoured his body. Other's were questioned where he went, and as soon as he heard of people wondering where he was, he told them all of what he did. He was sent to the prison of the town for 2 decades, making a reputation among the prisoners as a lunatic. Getting out early for his manners and good behavior, he immediately killed another person and skipped town. He then traveled the world to become a well renowned bard, killing all he saw fit to kill, and conversed with the skull of his dear friend he killed all the years ago.
This is a character that I wanted to try out, because of how conflicting it sounds at first. A young Kalashtar, born as an orphan not knowing of his lineage, named Koratani Delmir. His guardian spirit Tari would always push him to doing good and worshiping the gods, but he took the guidance the wrong way. He started to study the goddess Loviatar, to learn how you should worship and do bidding for her. He thought the truest way to server this goddess of death was to bear the sins of murder to set others free to death, and please her. He knows of his evil, lawful it may be, but his guardian spirit worries for him and still pushes him to do things right as he conflicts with his bloodlines nature and the path he's chosen. He always lets his victims die in honor, and understands their positions first.
This character was made to have one with a tortured spirit, but in a literal way, and not turn out evil. A Gith named Shworn Chrovatakin woke up, strapped to a table in an experimentation room. He knew that his people were once slaves to mindflayers, but thought that something like the position he was in wouldn't happen again. He saw a mindflayer that looked like he was well versed in wizardry, as he came over to perform experiments on him. The mindflayer wanted to see the limits of a body in the experimentation of both magic and psionics. He could hear the word the mindflayer spoke as he said aloud logs of his findings to store in his memory, learning that his name was Alteriyath. The first project involved necrotic magic, as he tried to replace his leg with that of another Gith that they enchanted. His leg became cursed with flesh rot and the ability to cast infestation, which resulted in pain and growth of the curse. Another experiment involved a parasitic plant that was enchanted with druidic magic, cursing him with the ability to cast Thorn Whip and gain exhaustion causing the curse to grow more. Eventually he noticed that the mindflayers started evacuating, throwing him tired and beaten into a pile of corpses. His limbs were altered and he noticed his eyes had also permanently become pale. He left to still be chaotic good, even after his torture, as he became a barbarian that kept manners, but had a burning rage to find Alteriyath to cure himself and kill him.
This is my favorite character, mostly because of how I played him, but was still a good backstory. An Areni High Elf that trained with rapiers to become an adventurer, named Adol'in Dolva, was a good hearted individual. He trained hard to impress the undead council so that he could one day join their ranks. They then sent him on a mission with a group of others to fight off a demon lord named Infernaliae. When he reached the place, the entire rest of the group was killed, as she noticed him. She took a liking to him, and found him a charming individual. While he was scared for his life, holding out his weapon to fight to his end, she attempted to sway his mind. She told him that his life of good was worthless, and that instead of slaving to work for others, he could join her to have his own fun with the way of evil. She corrupted his mind, making him pure evil, eccentric and presumptuous person, then her first and only warlock. He swore to go back to Arenal one day to kill all Elves of Areni, and especially the undead council.
After the campaign was finished, he was level 20, and never changed his ways from evil. He went back to Areni and slayed all Elves he found after having a family with Infernaliae. Years later he was killed by a hero, and so was his demon lord mistress, as his bloodline of Demonic Elves lived after him.
Yea, that took a long time to type.
Also known as CrafterB and DankMemer.
Here, have some homebrew classes! Subclasses to? Why not races. Feats, feats as well. I have a lot of magic items. Lastly I got monsters, fun, fun times.