I have never been very good at making backstories be it lack of imagination or lack of being able to put it into words but here is my most recent character he is a half-orc blood hunter both of his parents are human his mother was raped but he was raised by his mother and her husband, that is the only father he ever knew.
I am Tharokk, my family and I were part of a small village in Aundair bordering the whisper woods. We lived a simple life, not many visitors when I was a young boy around six years old these men came to ask the young ones if we wanted to join them and be trained, by the best of the best. Ma and Pa wouldn't let me go, that I had no need for that. A few years went by and another group of men came to the village, except these men looked like soldiers. They didn't come to train us either, they came to **** and pillage. My pa was one of the first men to be struck down, I watched as he tried to fight them off with one of our dull training swords, and I saw one of them plunge his sword into my fathers back. Ma told me to run she would be right behind me, so I ran, but Ma never came. I went back to look for Ma later after she didn't meet me. When I went back to the village it was burned down nothing was left but ashes and bones. I found my way to Askelios, the closest town, over the next few days and began asking about the recruiters that came by a few years ago. Mostly no one knew anything and I didn't have much to offer just the name Elajorn.
I went from city to city to find him, eventually, I found out they had gone to Thrane and began searching for recruits there. I made my way through Thrane the same way following leads most dead-end others just a bit too late, until I caught up with him and his group. Once they picked up a few more recruits including myself we traveled back to Aundiar to the Eldritch Groves and began training. They taught us swordplay and patience and how to center our minds. Then the real training began, they gave each of us a potion and told us to drink it at the same time. Every one of us young men and women dropped to the ground in agony, screaming, begging for it to stop, it was the most unbearable pain I had ever felt. A few days later I woke up in a bed, Elajorn told me that they gave us a poison and I was the only one to survive, that I was the only one capable of continuing the training. Because of this poison, I had access to powers only known to people called blood hunters which is what I was training to become. Over the next two years, I continued to train my mind and body vigorously, practicing my new abilities, always eager for the next step in my training.
This next step was something unusual, Elajorn told me I was going to be turned into a monster. He showed me what I would become, what I would be capable of and also told me the risks. He turned into a wolf-man creature still the shape of a human but with wolf characteristics. Once I was given the gift and felt its power I took a vow to track down the men that pillaged my village. After years more of training Elajorn finally told me I was ready to leave, that he would be sad to see me go, but that I'd always have a home here. I began the hunt in the next following weeks for the group known as the order of the emerald claw.
Breeze, the Air Genasi Rogue in G.M.O.A.T.S sunless citadel Guldrum, the Dwarf Barbarian in Ye ol' Yarn Spun Legend Baku, the Tortle Bloodhunter in Coliseum of Conquest
hey everyone! in the spoiler section is what i gave my dm and seeing as i was a first-time player, i had no clue what i was doing. let me know what you all think... be gentle please. she also has an awesome tattoo story, which i might share later once it's revealed to my group and the artwork is done. also, i don't know how to add the official pic to show you my character, but once i find out, i'll try to add it later.
Bidet. Allow me to introduce myself... The name given to me at birth was Nyx, however, you can call me Honor. The circumstances surrounding my birth are rather unusual... I was born during a lightning storm, 17 years ago. My mom was struck by a bolt, resulting in her taking her last breath of life, as I was taking my first. Still linked by the cord, the electricity flowed through her into me. Some people think that's where I get my looks, the lightning. But I really get my looks from my mom, the deliciously flawless skin with a hint of darkness, the silvery-white hair, the elvish beauty... yes, I'm a wonder to behold. However, most people can not get past my race, a gift from my father, a tiefling. My long, straight gazelle-like horns, sharpened fangs, and five-foot long tail clearly give away my infernal bloodline. I suppose it's better than them knowing my mom was a drow, as the word "drow" usually strikes fear into people.
Anyway, back to my story... I suppose you are wondering how I know all this? This information only came from my coward father. Let me backtrack once again: You see, my father tried to take care of me for about six months, but he wasn't prepared to raise a baby girl alone. One night, he left me and a rolled up piece of parchment on the steps of a dwarven family. The parchment only contained my name, DOB, and a hastily drawn family tree. Want to know what the family tree said? Mother (drow), Father (tiefling), and a little arrow to my name in a circle. No names for my parents, because that would be too easy, right? Only scribbled next to "mother" were the words "Menzoberranzan" and "Eilistraee." Next to "father" was scribbled "Calimshan." That's all the clues I have to go on to try to one day figure out who am I and where I come from. Sigh.
The dwarven family was okay, I guess. The wife, named Flipper, took pity on me, while the husband, Flopsy, looked upon me with absolute hate. Flipper took great care of me, even going as far as to teach me about my infernal language and common and even some dwarvish! But, as soon as I was able to "fend" for myself, Flopsy sent me away to live in the woods. I was a mere adolescent, exiled into the world alone.
-- insert more backstory that came out during our campaign -- A small blur of brown and white, screaming and crying, is seen racing around the kitchen table from her pursuer. She knew if she was caught she was in trouble. She didn’t mean to knock over the bucket of milk. Flopsy, the dwarf husband, and her guardian, follows her closely, cruel, hateful words leaking from his lips. In a circle, round and round, they go. “You evil tiefling scum! Damn you! You did that on purpose! You knew it took me all morning to get that milk so we could sell it! Don’t run from me, Nyx! ” With stuttered words, she cries out, “No, sir! I didn’t mean it! Honest! I tripped and fell!” He snarls, “I knew I should have told Flipper to leave you out in the cold! Who knows what evil spawn you come from! Come here, you beast, so I can damn you back to hell!” With a lunge, he reaches out and catches the end of her tail, as she rounds the table. The scream is immediate and thunderous. The change is immediate and unexpected. Her tiefling form shifts into that of a baboon. The look of shock on his face is only mirrored by the look of shock in the baboon’s golden eyes. He immediately drops the tail he is holding and takes several steps back. The baboon scurries and climbs to the open window ledge, looking back. “I knew you were evil. Only the damned can change into monsters and animals. Flipper will hear of this and I swear, I will see you gone from this house.”
The few times I wondered about a settlement to seek help, I was met with aggressive looks and hurtful whispers. Needless to say, I learned to stay away from people and towns, and I relied on my natural ability to commune with nature, trusting the animals of the land over others. I watched the animals, learning to hunt and blend into the wooded areas. I became a wanderer, traveling from land to land, living only to survive and grow, with no real purpose or direction for my life.
Then one day my life changed, for the better... As I was running from a giant spider (I don't do spiders, but that's another story for another day), I noticed a little hut all alone in a small clearing. I decided to hide there, rest, and maybe sneak some food from the owner. I got way more than I bargained for and it looked as though the spider was the better option at first. Just as I was taking some bread from the hatch in the kitchen, my feet were pulled from under me, my body hitting the ground hard, knocking the air out of my lungs, and causing me to be dizzy. Once I could focus, I found myself staring into the fierce, green eyes of a beautiful, elf woman and an arrowhead. However, once she saw I was just ten years old, the fierce look diminished slightly. Maybe she saw something in my eyes that were in her own... someone in need of help, a place to belong, or maybe... a chance at a family.
Long story short, she took me in, but our time together was never easy. You see, Story doesn't speak, errr I should say, it's very rare to hear her voice, so trying to communicate initially was rough for us. My tiefling temper and impatience did not always wait for her to gesture, sign, or make a small noise. I still remember the first time she said something. It was the most magical thing in the world. She said Honor. I was confused at first, but figured out quickly she was calling me that. She never liked the name Nyx, always scowling at it. In her own way, she was giving me the creed I live by today. We've been a family for about seven years. And every year that we are together, we mark it with the extension of the tattoo on my back. It can't be seen due to my hide coverings, but it's an intricate flow of writings in various languages and figures from my past. It tells my story, our story, and a few other things. She's taught me more about living off the land, becoming a vegetarian (though I sneak jerky while in the woods alone hunting), elvish, and how to control my shifting. Apparently, either my elvish or tiefling ancestry allows me to cast spells and shift forms. At least that's what Story's old books tell me. And I'm only growing stronger in my powers, which brings me to the present.
It's time I go on a journey to truly find myself. A coming of age journey, perhaps. I need to find my place in this world and bring honor to my family name, my race, and Story. Story doesn't want me to go because she fears for my safety and knows how unkind the world can be to tieflings. Plus, I think her past makes her anxious for me... She wanted to come with me, but I quickly refuted this idea. After much back and forth, she relented though the glares and snarls would suggest otherwise. On the eve of my journey, she packed all of my belongings in a backpack, some provisions, gave me an old staff, and some weaponry, and wished me good luck. She knows all of this stuff is cumbersome, and not likely to be used, but I let her pack it all anyway to keep her quiet. And I forgot how stealthy she can be! She followed me! From a distance of course, but I knew something was amiss. I waited and during the night, I set a trap, thinking whoever was after me would be caught and I could interrogate them. You should have seen her face when she was hanging upside down! Priceless! I let her tag along after that, of course. I figure what's the worse that could happen... So here we are in a town called Neverwinter, near the water. We need to find provisions and to resupply, so we are heading to the local tavern to gain information and see where the wind blows us to next. I cross my tail and just hope they are friendly towards tieflings...
sidenote: i figured out how to add pics! *big smile* below is my character. art by @blacksalander on twitter.
Born as HooRuk Baustorm to a Warchief's Son and Barbarian Human Mother. For two years after his birth he was a part of his father's tribe, and along with his mother were the few non-pure blood orcs of the tribe. The Warchief thought all should be welcomed in the tribe but the Elders thought differently. The Elders, believing in the "pure" tribe made moves to eliminate all traces of non-orcs and the weak blood sympathetic to them. The family was betrayed by their own tribe. HooRuk's Grandfather was murdered in his sleep, and his Mother lashed out the betrayers protecting, his Father the boy's escape. His father mortally wounded in the attack while shielding him from an onslaught of arrows, managed to get HooRuk out to sea before dying on the shore. Orphaned and adrift the boy was discovered by an old naval captain turned fisherman, his wife, and their son. HooRuk was raised by the old couple in their small town and given the name "Killian". Killian as he grew older excelled at the old man's trade and had a penchant for spear fishing. After the passing of his adopted parents, Killian began expanding the fisherman's trade while his adopted brother, Liam, went off to pursue a naval career. Killian worked the trade and after many attempts to expand his business, he ultimately abandoned that path.
Determined to make a name and get away from the land that took so much from him he found his way to the sea. For years Killian worked from one ship to another eventually falling in with a few Elvish pirates. Earning a reputation of being fierce combatant with outlandish tactics. Killian eventually obtained his own crew and ship, called the "Merry Hound".
For 5 years, Captain Killian and his crew pillaged and plundered only from the those with plenty to spare. He targeted specific ships and raided many unorthodox targets for books and other bits of knowledge. Becoming known as the Literary Pirate.
While still brutal in his tactics never one to back away from plundering rival pirates that attacked those less fortunate. These behavior's eventually drew the ire of his first mate,
Eldon Smeed. Betraying the Captain and slaughtering a portion of his crew. Smeed was fought off and abandoned on a deserted island. The surviving crew sailed on. One day after an larger than usual score, Killian acquired some unique information with regards to his past. So after a few weeks of preparation he gathered his crew and paid them a years wage each, and gave them their leave. The Merry Hound was ported, and abandoned said for two paid protectors. Bidding farewell Killian to his beloved ship, he moves onward attempting to find more of his past and to the next great story.
Arden was a runt-of-the-litter, so to speak. He was left at a doorstep in Rogarsheim, with naught but a nametag with his Draconic name in the Common alphabet: "Arjhan". His mother left on a voyage to Neverwinter with Arden when he was but three months old, but the ship was beset by pirates off of the Korinn Archipelago. The pirates, aboard the Dragonfury, a fairly infamous pirate ship, then adopted Arden after his mother's death in the raid, taking a Dragonborn's presence as a good omen for the ship. Fifteen years later, Arden had become one of the Dragonfury's chief boarders, making up for what he lacked in strength with superior reflexes and acrobatic ability, but the ship was attacked by another pirate ship - the Stormrider. Though Arden tried to swim off during the raid, the pirates made him a galley-slave, intending to sell him off at landfall. When they reached port, though, Arden escaped, becoming a bodyguard, bouncer, hitman (one notable adventure being the assassination of the knight Jarred Oakhold), and eventually a naval hero-for-hire after mugging enough money to make the journey to Neverwinter, a distant memory from his childhood. When our story picks up, Arjhan has discovered a realm infinitely more treacherous than the perils of the sea... DRY LAND.
Arden has since went to Phandallan for a job for one Gundran Rockseeker. Gundran's disappeared, but the job is done and Arden considers himself free from commitment.
My first DnD character so options and tips to help improve helps a lot!
Inez Inri was born in a small town called Middlesborough and lived there with her parents, Jon and Gloria. She was the oldest, of 4 and looked after her little brothers and sisters. Her family, however, didn’t have a lot of money, so when she was 10, her father left to get a job. Coin was sent via mail once every once in a while, until one day it stopped. Inez knew that she had to do something, and when a local theatre group came to town, she knew she had to join. She knew good entertainers got a lot of money, and it was the only job she figured she wouldn't be that bad at.
She practically begged the group to let her join until finally, an elf named Bryna took pity on the young Aasimar and let her join. Bryna was like the big sister that she never had. She taught her everything she knew. Once she joined the theatre company, they put her to work immediately. Inez learned how to clean costumes, fix harps, and copy scripts. After a while, they decided to let her be apart of the shows. Inez immediately fell in love with entertaining. She loved making people laugh or cry with her acting or storytelling. The aaimar loved her new group of friends and players. Not only could she send money to her mother and siblings every other week, but it was so exciting.
She loved being able to travel with her new family from town to town. She loved sleeping small inn rooms, sleeping on the ground in a big bundle with everyone. Nearly every night they would put on costumes and make-up and performed. Even on nights where they did a bad job, they would all laugh at themselves, walking to the nearest bar to get food and drink before quickly going to the next town over. Inez adored the company, they had inside jokes from play-lines, gossip and had each other's back no matter what. If one player was being attacked or picked on by someone outside their little group, they were quick to defend. Inez found great comfort in this and stuck around for years.
The company taught her all different kinds of plays, songs, and stories. One of the company members, a Tiefling named Erthos helped her learn how to play the flute and other instruments. He took it upon himself to teach her how to properly read sheet music and was also her vocal coach for singing. Sooner or later she started to play music for some of the plays the others did as well. Bryna would also pull her aside as well to teach her some magic as well. Slowly, but surely, Inez was becoming a Bard with a lot of potential.
She still continues to travel with her theatre party, she tries to visit her mother and siblings as much as she can. One day she hopes to be a good enough Bard and go to the College of Lore. However, recently she was separated from her theatre company when a fight broke out at a theatre. Now she mostly roams around, playing her instrument and singing for money. Sometimes she’ll do odd jobs as well. Inez hasn’t given up completely and still looks for her group.
Wanted to create a new minotaur character, so introducing my Minotaur Fighter, Bapheus Wavereaver!
He woke in darkness as a harsh shriek echoed in the air around him. His thoughts were foggy, but clearing, as if waking from a terrible dream. The ground was trembling under him. As he struggled to stand, he felt a pull on his left leg. Bending down, he felt a thick manacle secured around his ankle, and a heavy chain that led to a solid stone wall. The trembling increased, and there was a loud “crack!” from the wall. He gave a mighty tug on the chain, and it came free. As the tremors continued, he began to feel his way forward.
He soon discovered he was in a series of labyrinthian tunnels, which seemed to twist and turn at random, but somehow, he instinctually knew which way to go. Eventually, the air around him began to brighten, and he could see debris on the floor made of armor and bones. As the light grew brighter, the air grew fresher, and soon the hall opened into a large chamber, and he came to a large doorway with sunlight spilling through it. Just inside the great door he saw a tall golden statue of a horned beast standing on two legs. Into the base of the statue was carved one word: “Bapheus”. By this point, the tremors had increased to such an extent that the walls around him began to crack, and pieces of the ceiling began crashing down. Shielding his eyes against the light, he ran from the structure. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was at the edge of a great forest. He quickly made his way into the dim shadows of the trees before turning back to look. A huge stone fortress sat before him in the cleft of a mountain, and as the tremors reached their peak, the tallest tower fell, crashing down into the center of the fortress, and the entire structure caved inwards on itself. As the tremors subsided and dust choked the air, he saw a large golden bird that radiated light, with small figures riding on its back, soar up and out of the destruction and over the forest towards the setting sun. He looked for a few moments longer, then turned and loped into the forest. Before he disappeared into the shadows, he could have sworn he heard a cold voice whisper in his head, but then it was gone.
Over the next few weeks, he survived on instinct alone, catching and killing small animals and eating berries from bushes. Once, he caught sight of his reflection in a stream, and recognized the face of the statue from the fortress. He tried to avoid settlements, but his luck ran out one day and he was captured by slavers (though he didn’t go easily). He was taken to a small port city and sold to a merchant sea captain, Harlow Tydes, who thought the brute would make an excellent worker on his ship, The Wavereaver. When asked what his name was, he gave the only one he knew, Bapheus.
Captain Tydes soon took a liking to Bapheus, who worked hard and learned quickly, soon becoming a favorite among the crew. Tydes taught him how to read and write, and he also became a skilled fighter, as a merchant ship is a favorite target of pirates. Tydes bartered with people in many different lands, and Baph, as he was affectionately called by the crew, had his eyes opened to a huge world he never knew existed. He especially enjoyed music and poetry, which lightened his heart and his lifted his spirits. He began to feel at home with his new “family”. However, dark dreams and memories haunted him, and every so often, he could swear he heard a whisper of a cold voice calling to him.
Ten years passed, and Bapheus grew, both in strength and in knowledge. One day, on what was decided was Baph’s birthday, Tydes called him to his quarters, and informed him that he was retiring after many successful years. He had stopped thinking of Bapheus as a slave long ago, but now he made it official, and granted him his freedom. He encouraged Baph to travel the world and see all of its wonders. Bapheus asked if he could take the name Wavereaver as his family name, and Tydes gladly agreed. They parted company, with Tydes making Baph promise that he would visit every chance he got.
So Bapheus Wavereaver set out into the world. He has traveled far and wide, taking jobs as a bodyguard, a mercenary, and anything else that fits him. Sometimes he dreams of a golden bird, and his heart is glad. Sometimes he dreams of blood and terror and a cold whisper of a voice, calling him to return to the darkness. He wonders if he will ever uncover the truth of his past, and vows if he ever does, he will fight with everything he has to remain the man he has become.
Well this is my backstory. I don't know where in the world I am and I don't know of any big city's with well known/good schools for medicine/medical practice (I know nothing of the lore for D&D)
When I was a small lad my village was ravaged by some unknown disease. My father, like his before him, was the local medicine man. He did all that he could to fight this uphill battle but all of his efforts where for not. One day it would be a scorching fever, the next it would be horrible boils. After many weeks and with so much loss of so many friends, just trying to stay ahead of this cursed disease or at the very least ease the person's pain, it finally took hold of my father as well. My father had taught me everything that he had known of Medicine and I did my best to do our family job but I was just one boy. The week after my father had died a traveling doctor had come to our village after hearing about the disease. By the time he arrived, most of the people were dead and there was little he could do to save the ones that were already sick. He was impressed by what my father and I had done with what little we had to work with and saw that there was potential for me to become a great doctor myself. He offered to take me to the city and learn medicine there, it was there that I met Dr. Farstrider. He showed me that being a doctor was more than just persurving life, but understanding death. He was a hard and cruel man and seemed to rather spend his time drinking or with women but the knowledge he possessed was intoxicating. After years of being his pupil and learning all that I could from him, our "side study's" were discovered and I was expelled. Dr. Farstrider was jailed last that I had heard. Not all the women that came home with him returned to their own homes, nor some of the drunkards that had the misfortune of letting him buy them a drink. I had no idea of how he had truly acquired some of the body's that he brought to his lab but neither had I asked. I no longer had the funds from the school or from Dr. Farstrider to continue my study into the field of death and life and to be honest, I had grown accustomed to living a comfortable life. I could no longer use my real name in public or count on the prestige of the school to gain loans. I ended up learning simple thieves tricks, forging documents, shaving coins, false facing to changing my appearance to blend into different social groups. It seemed like my family and friends had died to give me this chance and my powers with necromancy had only just begun, I won't let anything stand in my way. Not even death.
First character idea is a Wood Elf Wardancer (Monk without a creed). Looking at having the flexibility to play in an evil campaign soon with friends:
Taken from his family by a bandit raid on a wood elf camp deep in the Elderwood, Loric only had his tattoo of his family creed – the Wardancers, dancers of death in the Wood Elf culture to remind him of his roots. His earliest memories are inside a wooden cage on the back of a wagon flanked by the murders of his family: his woe feeding his fiery anger as the days rolled by. By the time the human militia happened upon the bandit caravan, Loric was rabid. Once the heavily armored men had finished routing through the parade of wagons, they found the small elf child backed into a corner of his cage; his eyes like a panicked animal. The guards left him for dead after he racked his nails over the eyes of one could-be savior.
Weak from hunger, Loric wandered the roads in his tattered clothes until he came across the gates of the town of Zarrabad. He begged, borrowed or stole to survive in Zarrabad for a month until one day whilst fending for scraps at the market, a group of pit fighters kicked at him in disgust. They were taken aback by the child’s ferocity as he leapt at the face of his attacker screaming like a banshee, his nails scratching and his hands pounding. Laughing in shock and seeing potential, the most scarred of the group Darius subdued the boy and took him to the pit where he was a champion who’d earned his freedom. Within a few months, the boy grew less feral with a full belly and structure to his days, awaking early to clean weapons and armour while gradually being trained by Darius. To calm the boy, Darius paid close attention to teaching Loric to reflect on his decisions, meditate on his thoughts and to perfect his body with a rigorous routine of stretching daily. Darius even taught Loric how to read and write in Common whilst lending the boy books on history of the races and philosophy. It was here that Loric first came to understand the ways of his people from afar…a sense of distance and loneliness only grew with more knowledge.
Years passed as Loric grew broader, stronger and eventually began besting his adolescent peers with his almost unnatural ability for an acrobatic spear heavy style in the pit. The bond between Darius and the outcast grew to respect and a glint of hidden pride showed in Darius’ eye when Loric passed the Rites of Competition by brutally dispatching of four opponents in the free for all. From that day forward, Loric was a Pit-Fighter through and through. But there were so many unanswered questions in the heartache of his past, darkness brewed by a life of violence.
Loric was never content and always troubled. Despite cultivating an interest in the ways of the mind and body, he struggled to control his emotions. This led to many brawls in the Pits where the fighters stayed. His overreactions caught more goading and Loric continued to withdraw into himself as a teen: perfecting his craft to fight some warped sense of meaning in the world. After many years of scars and hard-fought battles, Loric became known throughout the city as one of the most fearsome of foes. Success bred an unhealthy appreciation for drink and women, anything to fill the knot of discomfort in his chest. Now of higher regard in the Pits, his winnings fuelled these habits and the gap between Darius and his protégé grew. Fresh from receiving his cut from a recent victory, Loric staggered blind drunk out of a whorehouse and bumped into a group of local young nobles’ sons looking for a place to spend their plentiful gold. One accosted Loric, talking down to him like a piece of dirt while feeling protected by his status in the city.
As the goading continued, the elf’s responses grew short and his breathes deep with the effort to control his rising rage…he knew the costs of what would happen if these boys came to harm. With one final poke to the forehead by the lead blonde nobleman, Loric’s mind fell silent and his vision flashed red. When he’d regained control, the blonde noblemen’s face was pulp on the dirt – his compatriots screaming and a crowd gathering. Loric fled as tears dripped down his cheeks and he returned to the pit to collect his spear and meager belongings and made his escape into the sewers.
Once outside the walls, Loric was drawn to the forest and climbed up an oak tree where he stayed for days, gazing out across the land in a miasma of self-pity and anger coupled with an unfamiliar sense of relief.
His life was his own and finally he could set out in the pursuit of meaning and eventually find somewhere to call home.
I guess I'm on a roll. Here's a Tabaxi Cleric Fighter, Falling Leaf by Raging Waters, or Leaf for short.
Leaf was born into a prominent Tabaxi clan who lived in a village deep in a great forest next to a large, fast-moving river. At the time of his birth, a gust of wind sprang up, creating a cyclone of leaves that swept across the river rapids and through the village. The cyclone enveloped his home, depositing a bed of leaves around the newborn cub. One leaf, shaped like the symbol of the god Silvanus, fluttered down and landed on his forehead. The village elders saw it as an unmistakable sign that the child was favored by the god, and was destined to serve him. At a young age, his family took him to a nearby temple to begin his studies as a cleric.
Leaf grew up in the Temple of Silvanus, under the tutelage of the High Clerics. As a child, he was unfailingly optimistic and gregarious, traits which only grew as he matured. He loved exploring the surrounding forests, often spending days wandering through the trees, becoming friends with just about every woodland creature he came across. In addition to his Cleric studies, as an “emissary” of the god Silvanus, tasked with protecting nature, Leaf was also instructed in combat. Even though he disliked fighting, preferring instead to find a more peaceful solution, he practiced hard, determined to prove himself worthy.
His relationships with other Tabaxi were often awkward, because they viewed him as an emissary of Silvanus and often kept him at a distance. They weren’t trying to be cruel, just reverential, but the young Leaf worried there was something wrong with him, so he naively became determined to be even more friendly and positive. It didn’t help that he also wasn’t the most agile of Tabaxi, often tripping over his own tail or spilling a bowl of holy water he was carrying during a temple ritual.
One day, after Leaf had wandered further into the forest than he had before, he came upon a large group of humans who were cutting down trees. As positive and naïve as ever, Leaf struck up a conversation with them, and discovered that they were gathering lumber for a nearby settlement, which was growing quickly and beginning to encroach upon the forest. As a warden of nature, Leaf was greatly disturbed by this, and tried to convince them to stop, but he was laughed out of the camp. Determined to please Silvanus, Leaf snuck back into camp that night and destroyed their tools and supplies, then crept back to his village. The humans, angered by what they saw as an attack, eventually brought a small force against Leaf’s village, and several people on both sides perished before a truce could be reached.
The village elders and the High Clerics now had a problem. Leaf was the cause of the incident, and should be banished, but as the emissary of a god, he was only doing what he was born to do by protecting the forest. It was eventually decided to send Leaf on a quest deemed impossible, so that he could continue his work, but still be sent away from the village. Leaf was told that he was being sent out into the world to discover the location of the Staff of Silvanus, a powerful artifact that was wielded by the god in his fight to protect nature, but was lost during a great battle. Leaf, unaware that the Staff is only a legend and most likely doesn’t actually exist, gladly accepted. After a tearful goodbye with the clerics and his family, Leaf set out into the world (though the elders made sure to send him in a different direction than the human settlement).
Now, six years later, Leaf is traveling the land, searching for the Staff and spreading the teachings of Silvanus. He’s not quite as naïve as he used to be, having learned quickly (and often painfully) that life in the world is much harsher than his life in the temple. People often underestimate him, as a clumsy Tabaxi is a source of amusement, but those who know him well consider him a loyal friend who can be counted on in any situation. Even with his naive vision of the world shattered by reality, he has never lost his optimism and curiosity, and still believes in the inherent goodness of people.
I really loved reading your backstory for Leaf! You put a lot of time and thought into this and it really shows! Great work, I can't wait to see more character backstories you have :)
Hey thanks, I appreciate it. Yours is really interesting, love the whole theatre troupe angle.
I have two others in this thread, #21, my current character I’m playing, the Dragonborn sorcerer Kriv Windson, and #49, a Minotaur fighter I can’t wait to play, Bapheus Wavereaver. I’ve got some more rattling around in my head too.
I love reading everyone’s stories on here. One of my favorite parts of D&D is the world building, so keep it up!
Making a Kenku identity stealer type character. Our GM has made a world primarily inhabited by Elves, Dwarves and Humans, so I'm envisioning him hiding amongst these races while manipulating everything around him. All spells, cantrips etc are about pushing, pulling, illusions, charms, commands etc. Tome and magic initiate give him extra slots, and ultimately the character steals personalities and manipulates fate, to make sure the machinations of his patron are fulfilled.
I envisioned a setting where The Raven Queen has a rival. The Crow Father. Which is essentially the scheming aspects of the Warhammer god Tzeentch. So both are trying to make sure that mortal affairs run "according to plan" but they have different plans laid out. Thus my characters focus on manipulating die and people, instead of straight up combat.
Warlock Character with the Raven Queen patron (though renamed to Crow Father) for the spirit crow, and the old one spell list, because it's all about manipulating things. I found hers to be too combat heavy. The thing that sparked the idea was Mask of Many Faces. I like the idea of a character that had to rely on this exclusively to get by, and Kenku mimicry added a nice layer to the voice(sound) impersonations.
There exists a war. One not witnessed by mortal eyes. Behind the veil of reality, fickle Gods, hungry for power, play with the lives of the living for their own purposes and carve out their domains within the tapestry of mortal emotions.
The Raven Queen oversees the passing of the living, to the realm of the dead. She cares not why, nor whence, only that the mortals pass when it has been ordained that they do so. Her power is limited in the mortal realm, however, and she must employ agents and followers, whom she grants great power, to carry out her will. The great plan of fate has been laid out, and she will ensure that it is carried out to the letter. But fate is a fickle mistress, and not as heavy set as one might imagine.
Opposite her sits the Crow Father. The great deceiver. He has other plans for fate, and where needed, will instruct his own minions to upset the chess board laid out in front of him, for his own ends. The two have been locked in bitter struggle since time immemorial, forever obstructing the other, and setting the world on a different path. Their agents are everywhere, but where the Raven Queen bestows her power on mortals willing to make pacts with the otherworldly, the Crow Father rather bestows the “gift” of mortality upon his flock.
From beyond the veil, the Crows live. Servants of The Great Crow, bearing his twisted visage, these spectres cannot enter the world of the living freely. Instead, they must find a host, and infuse it with their essence to enter the mortal realm. Parents take the gathering of a murder of crows as an ill omen, but unknown to them, the nefarious purpose of these gatherings is more than fairytale. Where the leylines of the world wears thin the fabric of reality, the Crow Father can send his spectral flock to gather near the settlements of the living.
They cannot stay long, for their ties to this world are weak, but in number, they allow him to channel his powers of manipulation. Under the gaze of the murder of crows, young children, aged 4 and below, are enthralled to enter the forest when their parents aren’t watching. There, where the veil is torn and the Crow Father’s will seeps into the world, they will find a crystal crow skull, gleaming on the forest floor. Smooth surface casting an unnatural light, tempting them to pick it up. To touch it is to give up one’s mortal soul, the skull is a link to the nether realm and touching it creates a path for a Crow to travel into the realm of mortal man, and infuse itself within the child. The crows in the trees will flock and cover the child in a cacophony of caws. As the birds finally scatter the lifeless husk of the child is visible but changed. Only a deformed bird creature remains. Bidepal like a human, but bearing the mark of the Crow Father, the child is covered in feathers, with the head of a Crow. To help his new agent hide in the society it occupies, the Crow Father has gifted them with magical deception, as the spectral crow, now fully mortal, assumes the shape and voice of the child whose place it has taken.
The child is no more, and a Kenku is born. From here, they return to their homes, the parents of the child none the wiser. Their function is simple. Observe. Watch. Learn. When the Kenku comes of age, the Crow Father will call upon them, but until then, they hear the whispers of spectral crows, and instinctively know, that they now serve a higher purpose. Being a vessel of The Great Crow, most agents will draw upon their spectral kin, to serve them as companions. The bond to the realm behind the veil allows them to sustain the spectral form of nether crows in the mortal plane, as long as they stay close to them.
Thus the Kenku venture into the world to do His bidding, and to combat the machinations of the hated Raven Queen, and her ilk. They assume the shapes of the mortals around them, always blending in, while their spectral crow companions act as eyes and ears. They recognise others of their kind, though they be hidden from the eyes of the mortal world, coming together as a loose network of agents and spies, all with a singular purpose. To ensure that the Great Deceiver’s plans come to fruition, and to foil the attempts of the false Queen and her lackeys, should they interfere. They are known internally as The Black Talon, but in their human forms and human tongues, merely as The Watchers.
*Sound of wind whispering in the willows* [Kenku Name] or Will-I-Am (A play on words for “I am Willow”) to humans, is one such Kenku. An information broker for those who know him by “Willow”, and simple fixer and craftsman to everyone else, he mostly keeps to himself in his little tinker shop, where he fixes odds and ends. While he will occasionally deal in information for the local thieves guild, as he has an uncanny ability for predicting when certain areas have few guards in them (spying on them with his Crow) Willow is in Trier because the whispers of the Crow Father have told him that he will encounter an individual here, bearing his mark. A polished Crow Skull, hanging from a chain. Assisting this individual is vital if the false Queen’s plans are to be thwarted.
I posted my first ever attempt at a backstory above and would love some constructive criticism about how this sets up for play / any gaps I've missed to make it interesting.
Looks good. Your character has a personality and a drive. Just remember your goals and bonds and ideals and all that while you're playing to help you make decisions for your character.
Ok, so I've been on a character creation kick suddenly. Here's a kind-of creatively-experimental backstory for an Aarakocran monk named Salleek.
I based the writing style on the fact that Aarakocra who have lived their entire lives on the Elemental Plane of Air would probably think and communicate in an entirely different type of language than beings on the Material Plane. So, here goes. Please tell me if it's a complete misfire.
Time. Passing. Man. Teaching. His language. He Elvish. Calls me “Aarakocra”. Calls him Erdan. Strange word. Strange place. Ground everywhere. Trees massive. Little sky. Feel trapped. Can’t fly. Erdan tends wing. Begin healing. Where Aera? Where I?
More time pass. Erdan a “monk”. Lives alone in forest, but not lonely. Says I’m from Air Plane. Now I’m on Material Plane. Questions. Many questions. No answers. Wing mending. Erdan teaching.
Erdan says it’s been a year since I showed up at his door. I’ve learned most of his words, but he lacks…music to say mine. He calls me Salleek, which sounds like some of my name. He’s teaching me the ways of his order, how to harness my spirit and channel my spirit. Despair at ever seeing home or family again.
Erdan is dying. He tells me that he has lived over 800 years, but now his time is ending. He has given me so much. My wing has healed, and with his teaching I can fight better than ever. Erdan has been my friend for 12 years, my only friend in this place so different from my home. What am I going to do now? Erdan tells me that I might find answers in the Elven capital, and that when he is gone, that is where I should go. His breath becomes shallower, and he asks me for one favor. Would I take him to the sky, so that he can see the world as I do? Even 2 years ago this would be impossible, but now, his body wracked with disease, he is as light as a feather. I carry him outside, and I spread my wings and lift off. I soar up through the clouds, Erdan laughing and shouting with joy. As I get above the clouds, the land spreads out before us, the golden light of the setting sun illuminating the wonder of this world. It’s almost as beautiful as home. With tears in his eyes, Erdan thanks me for this great gift. By the time I land, Erdan isn’t crying anymore.
I bury his body as his tradition dictates, gather a few possessions, and take a last look at the small cabin we shared for so many years. I say goodbye to my friend, then spread my wings and take off, heading west toward the civilization Erdan avoided for so long. Will I find the answers I seek? Will I see Aera and my children again? Will I be able to defeat the monsters that took it all away? I have no friends here. I have no community. I have almost nothing. I have Erdan’s teachings, and I have his staff. Above it all though, I have the most important thing. I have hope.
I've got so many that I haven't had a chance to play. I like dreaming up characters in my spare time. Here's a few favorites.
Drohvan Coppermane: Dwarf Rogue
A scout in the dwarven army, he was captured during a campaign against the Duergar. His company, under the command of the young prince, suffered a horrible loss after his capture. When called to account for the loss of 800 dwarven lives, the prince blamed the scouts who never returned. One of them must have betrayed them. When Drohvan was finally able to escape, he made it back to his people, only to be arrested on sight. They believed he had betrayed them, and his "escape" was just him returning to spy on them. He was branded a coward and a traitor (literally, dwarven runes branded on his face) and exiled. He found work on a ship that didn't ask too many questions, but after a night of heavy drinking, he woke up in an alley, the ship was gone, and his pack was left on the dock. With nowhere to go, he meets the rest of the party.
Anton d'Chapelle: Half Elf Tempest Cleric
Anton was raised in the church of Talos. He has no memory of his parents. The priests say that he was left on the steps of the temple as a child. He was trained as an acolyte until the day he was struck by lightning. Anton believed it to be a sign that he was chosen by Talos. He then set off as a wandering cleric, spreading the teachings of the Stormlord. (Twist: Anton is utterly insane. The voice in his head isn't his god. He was left at the temple when he was 3 after he eviscerated the family cat. His main weapon is a flail, which he also uses to flagellate himself during his prayers.)
Taggit Crookshank: Gnome Fighter
A member of the city watch, he isn't the brightest torch, but he has a heart of gold. Has a tendency to stumble into the right place at the right time and accidentally save the day. He's chasing down a thief who stole a precious family heirloom from the duke's manor. (Twist: The robbery was staged. The whole thing is a wild goose chase to keep Taggit away from some nefarious scheme.)
Those are some of the simple ones. I won't even attempt to enter the more convoluted ones on my phone.
This is my Assimar monk that I'm going to start playing in a week or two
Being raised in a temple of Torm is a; different upbringing, especially when your even stranger than the rest of the flock. Born into a family of human farmers Isaac was swiftly noticed by a nearby sect of clerics, occasionally growing wings and shinning like sun doesn't go unnoticed.
Constant lessons on history, languages, and how not to live your is mandatory for all residents of the temple, but more was expected of Issac given his divine blood. By his 20th year life had grown dull, well on the path to becoming a high priest of Torm simple lessons became the least of his worries constant appearances and meetings with high ranking member of the church, training with weapons of war, being made to decide judgement according to the strict laws, not even sleep was an escape with constant instruction from his angelic guide, dull life faded into melancholy.
One day a wandering monk came to the temple beaten to brink of death. Master Jormund. During his recovery Issac stuck to him like glue, listening to his stories of evils triumphed and a carefree life. Shrugging more and more of his duties spending time meditating and speaking with Jormund until one day Master Jormund left, Issac was nowhere to be found.
Issac spent the next 3 years on the road with his new friend and teacher Jormund. Doing good with seemingly no rhyme or reason, seeing new lands, this revitalized Issac's spirit. Life was good, but you can't run from your past forever....
Oh .... Wow. I feel like I should have known that? LOL, I'm a noob.
Don't be, for all we know, brea could be both.
I have never been very good at making backstories be it lack of imagination or lack of being able to put it into words but here is my most recent character he is a half-orc blood hunter both of his parents are human his mother was raped but he was raised by his mother and her husband, that is the only father he ever knew.
I am Tharokk, my family and I were part of a small village in Aundair bordering the whisper woods. We lived a simple life, not many visitors when I was a young boy around six years old these men came to ask the young ones if we wanted to join them and be trained, by the best of the best. Ma and Pa wouldn't let me go, that I had no need for that. A few years went by and another group of men came to the village, except these men looked like soldiers. They didn't come to train us either, they came to **** and pillage. My pa was one of the first men to be struck down, I watched as he tried to fight them off with one of our dull training swords, and I saw one of them plunge his sword into my fathers back. Ma told me to run she would be right behind me, so I ran, but Ma never came. I went back to look for Ma later after she didn't meet me. When I went back to the village it was burned down nothing was left but ashes and bones. I found my way to Askelios, the closest town, over the next few days and began asking about the recruiters that came by a few years ago. Mostly no one knew anything and I didn't have much to offer just the name Elajorn.
I went from city to city to find him, eventually, I found out they had gone to Thrane and began searching for recruits there. I made my way through Thrane the same way following leads most dead-end others just a bit too late, until I caught up with him and his group. Once they picked up a few more recruits including myself we traveled back to Aundiar to the Eldritch Groves and began training. They taught us swordplay and patience and how to center our minds. Then the real training began, they gave each of us a potion and told us to drink it at the same time. Every one of us young men and women dropped to the ground in agony, screaming, begging for it to stop, it was the most unbearable pain I had ever felt. A few days later I woke up in a bed, Elajorn told me that they gave us a poison and I was the only one to survive, that I was the only one capable of continuing the training. Because of this poison, I had access to powers only known to people called blood hunters which is what I was training to become. Over the next two years, I continued to train my mind and body vigorously, practicing my new abilities, always eager for the next step in my training.
This next step was something unusual, Elajorn told me I was going to be turned into a monster. He showed me what I would become, what I would be capable of and also told me the risks. He turned into a wolf-man creature still the shape of a human but with wolf characteristics. Once I was given the gift and felt its power I took a vow to track down the men that pillaged my village. After years more of training Elajorn finally told me I was ready to leave, that he would be sad to see me go, but that I'd always have a home here. I began the hunt in the next following weeks for the group known as the order of the emerald claw.
I'm pretty proud of this one though :)
Breeze, the Air Genasi Rogue in G.M.O.A.T.S sunless citadel
Guldrum, the Dwarf Barbarian in Ye ol' Yarn Spun Legend
Baku, the Tortle Bloodhunter in Coliseum of Conquest
If this makes you feel any better I thought of making him a paladin before I chose druid.
hey everyone! in the spoiler section is what i gave my dm and seeing as i was a first-time player, i had no clue what i was doing. let me know what you all think... be gentle please. she also has an awesome tattoo story, which i might share later once it's revealed to my group and the artwork is done. also, i don't know how to add the official pic to show you my character, but once i find out, i'll try to add it later.
Bidet. Allow me to introduce myself... The name given to me at birth was Nyx, however, you can call me Honor. The circumstances surrounding my birth are rather unusual... I was born during a lightning storm, 17 years ago. My mom was struck by a bolt, resulting in her taking her last breath of life, as I was taking my first. Still linked by the cord, the electricity flowed through her into me. Some people think that's where I get my looks, the lightning. But I really get my looks from my mom, the deliciously flawless skin with a hint of darkness, the silvery-white hair, the elvish beauty... yes, I'm a wonder to behold. However, most people can not get past my race, a gift from my father, a tiefling. My long, straight gazelle-like horns, sharpened fangs, and five-foot long tail clearly give away my infernal bloodline. I suppose it's better than them knowing my mom was a drow, as the word "drow" usually strikes fear into people.
Anyway, back to my story... I suppose you are wondering how I know all this? This information only came from my coward father. Let me backtrack once again: You see, my father tried to take care of me for about six months, but he wasn't prepared to raise a baby girl alone. One night, he left me and a rolled up piece of parchment on the steps of a dwarven family. The parchment only contained my name, DOB, and a hastily drawn family tree. Want to know what the family tree said? Mother (drow), Father (tiefling), and a little arrow to my name in a circle. No names for my parents, because that would be too easy, right? Only scribbled next to "mother" were the words "Menzoberranzan" and "Eilistraee." Next to "father" was scribbled "Calimshan." That's all the clues I have to go on to try to one day figure out who am I and where I come from. Sigh.
The dwarven family was okay, I guess. The wife, named Flipper, took pity on me, while the husband, Flopsy, looked upon me with absolute hate. Flipper took great care of me, even going as far as to teach me about my infernal language and common and even some dwarvish! But, as soon as I was able to "fend" for myself, Flopsy sent me away to live in the woods. I was a mere adolescent, exiled into the world alone.
-- insert more backstory that came out during our campaign -- A small blur of brown and white, screaming and crying, is seen racing around the kitchen table from her pursuer. She knew if she was caught she was in trouble. She didn’t mean to knock over the bucket of milk. Flopsy, the dwarf husband, and her guardian, follows her closely, cruel, hateful words leaking from his lips. In a circle, round and round, they go. “You evil tiefling scum! Damn you! You did that on purpose! You knew it took me all morning to get that milk so we could sell it! Don’t run from me, Nyx! ” With stuttered words, she cries out, “No, sir! I didn’t mean it! Honest! I tripped and fell!” He snarls, “I knew I should have told Flipper to leave you out in the cold! Who knows what evil spawn you come from! Come here, you beast, so I can damn you back to hell!” With a lunge, he reaches out and catches the end of her tail, as she rounds the table. The scream is immediate and thunderous. The change is immediate and unexpected. Her tiefling form shifts into that of a baboon. The look of shock on his face is only mirrored by the look of shock in the baboon’s golden eyes. He immediately drops the tail he is holding and takes several steps back. The baboon scurries and climbs to the open window ledge, looking back. “I knew you were evil. Only the damned can change into monsters and animals. Flipper will hear of this and I swear, I will see you gone from this house.”
The few times I wondered about a settlement to seek help, I was met with aggressive looks and hurtful whispers. Needless to say, I learned to stay away from people and towns, and I relied on my natural ability to commune with nature, trusting the animals of the land over others. I watched the animals, learning to hunt and blend into the wooded areas. I became a wanderer, traveling from land to land, living only to survive and grow, with no real purpose or direction for my life.
Then one day my life changed, for the better... As I was running from a giant spider (I don't do spiders, but that's another story for another day), I noticed a little hut all alone in a small clearing. I decided to hide there, rest, and maybe sneak some food from the owner. I got way more than I bargained for and it looked as though the spider was the better option at first. Just as I was taking some bread from the hatch in the kitchen, my feet were pulled from under me, my body hitting the ground hard, knocking the air out of my lungs, and causing me to be dizzy. Once I could focus, I found myself staring into the fierce, green eyes of a beautiful, elf woman and an arrowhead. However, once she saw I was just ten years old, the fierce look diminished slightly. Maybe she saw something in my eyes that were in her own... someone in need of help, a place to belong, or maybe... a chance at a family.
Long story short, she took me in, but our time together was never easy. You see, Story doesn't speak, errr I should say, it's very rare to hear her voice, so trying to communicate initially was rough for us. My tiefling temper and impatience did not always wait for her to gesture, sign, or make a small noise. I still remember the first time she said something. It was the most magical thing in the world. She said Honor. I was confused at first, but figured out quickly she was calling me that. She never liked the name Nyx, always scowling at it. In her own way, she was giving me the creed I live by today. We've been a family for about seven years. And every year that we are together, we mark it with the extension of the tattoo on my back. It can't be seen due to my hide coverings, but it's an intricate flow of writings in various languages and figures from my past. It tells my story, our story, and a few other things. She's taught me more about living off the land, becoming a vegetarian (though I sneak jerky while in the woods alone hunting), elvish, and how to control my shifting. Apparently, either my elvish or tiefling ancestry allows me to cast spells and shift forms. At least that's what Story's old books tell me. And I'm only growing stronger in my powers, which brings me to the present.
It's time I go on a journey to truly find myself. A coming of age journey, perhaps. I need to find my place in this world and bring honor to my family name, my race, and Story. Story doesn't want me to go because she fears for my safety and knows how unkind the world can be to tieflings. Plus, I think her past makes her anxious for me... She wanted to come with me, but I quickly refuted this idea. After much back and forth, she relented though the glares and snarls would suggest otherwise. On the eve of my journey, she packed all of my belongings in a backpack, some provisions, gave me an old staff, and some weaponry, and wished me good luck. She knows all of this stuff is cumbersome, and not likely to be used, but I let her pack it all anyway to keep her quiet. And I forgot how stealthy she can be! She followed me! From a distance of course, but I knew something was amiss. I waited and during the night, I set a trap, thinking whoever was after me would be caught and I could interrogate them. You should have seen her face when she was hanging upside down! Priceless! I let her tag along after that, of course. I figure what's the worse that could happen... So here we are in a town called Neverwinter, near the water. We need to find provisions and to resupply, so we are heading to the local tavern to gain information and see where the wind blows us to next. I cross my tail and just hope they are friendly towards tieflings...
sidenote: i figured out how to add pics! *big smile* below is my character. art by @blacksalander on twitter.
Killian Urdwye, Half-Orc Barbarian.
Born as HooRuk Baustorm to a Warchief's Son and Barbarian Human Mother. For two years after his birth he was a part of his father's tribe, and along with his mother were the few non-pure blood orcs of the tribe. The Warchief thought all should be welcomed in the tribe but the Elders thought differently. The Elders, believing in the "pure" tribe made moves to eliminate all traces of non-orcs and the weak blood sympathetic to them. The family was betrayed by their own tribe. HooRuk's Grandfather was murdered in his sleep, and his Mother lashed out the betrayers protecting, his Father the boy's escape. His father mortally wounded in the attack while shielding him from an onslaught of arrows, managed to get HooRuk out to sea before dying on the shore. Orphaned and adrift the boy was discovered by an old naval captain turned fisherman, his wife, and their son. HooRuk was raised by the old couple in their small town and given the name "Killian". Killian as he grew older excelled at the old man's trade and had a penchant for spear fishing. After the passing of his adopted parents, Killian began expanding the fisherman's trade while his adopted brother, Liam, went off to pursue a naval career. Killian worked the trade and after many attempts to expand his business, he ultimately abandoned that path.
Determined to make a name and get away from the land that took so much from him he found his way to the sea. For years Killian worked from one ship to another eventually falling in with a few Elvish pirates. Earning a reputation of being fierce combatant with outlandish tactics. Killian eventually obtained his own crew and ship, called the "Merry Hound".
For 5 years, Captain Killian and his crew pillaged and plundered only from the those with plenty to spare. He targeted specific ships and raided many unorthodox targets for books and other bits of knowledge. Becoming known as the Literary Pirate.
Is it too late to share?
Here's my Dragonborn dex fighter's story.
Arden was a runt-of-the-litter, so to speak. He was left at a doorstep in Rogarsheim, with naught but a nametag with his Draconic name in the Common alphabet: "Arjhan". His mother left on a voyage to Neverwinter with Arden when he was but three months old, but the ship was beset by pirates off of the Korinn Archipelago. The pirates, aboard the Dragonfury, a fairly infamous pirate ship, then adopted Arden after his mother's death in the raid, taking a Dragonborn's presence as a good omen for the ship. Fifteen years later, Arden had become one of the Dragonfury's chief boarders, making up for what he lacked in strength with superior reflexes and acrobatic ability, but the ship was attacked by another pirate ship - the Stormrider. Though Arden tried to swim off during the raid, the pirates made him a galley-slave, intending to sell him off at landfall. When they reached port, though, Arden escaped, becoming a bodyguard, bouncer, hitman (one notable adventure being the assassination of the knight Jarred Oakhold), and eventually a naval hero-for-hire after mugging enough money to make the journey to Neverwinter, a distant memory from his childhood. When our story picks up, Arjhan has discovered a realm infinitely more treacherous than the perils of the sea... DRY LAND.
Arden has since went to Phandallan for a job for one Gundran Rockseeker. Gundran's disappeared, but the job is done and Arden considers himself free from commitment.
My first DnD character so options and tips to help improve helps a lot!
Inez Inri was born in a small town called Middlesborough and lived there with her parents, Jon and Gloria. She was the oldest, of 4 and looked after her little brothers and sisters. Her family, however, didn’t have a lot of money, so when she was 10, her father left to get a job. Coin was sent via mail once every once in a while, until one day it stopped. Inez knew that she had to do something, and when a local theatre group came to town, she knew she had to join. She knew good entertainers got a lot of money, and it was the only job she figured she wouldn't be that bad at.
She practically begged the group to let her join until finally, an elf named Bryna took pity on the young Aasimar and let her join. Bryna was like the big sister that she never had. She taught her everything she knew. Once she joined the theatre company, they put her to work immediately. Inez learned how to clean costumes, fix harps, and copy scripts. After a while, they decided to let her be apart of the shows. Inez immediately fell in love with entertaining. She loved making people laugh or cry with her acting or storytelling. The aaimar loved her new group of friends and players. Not only could she send money to her mother and siblings every other week, but it was so exciting.
She loved being able to travel with her new family from town to town. She loved sleeping small inn rooms, sleeping on the ground in a big bundle with everyone. Nearly every night they would put on costumes and make-up and performed. Even on nights where they did a bad job, they would all laugh at themselves, walking to the nearest bar to get food and drink before quickly going to the next town over. Inez adored the company, they had inside jokes from play-lines, gossip and had each other's back no matter what. If one player was being attacked or picked on by someone outside their little group, they were quick to defend. Inez found great comfort in this and stuck around for years.
The company taught her all different kinds of plays, songs, and stories. One of the company members, a Tiefling named Erthos helped her learn how to play the flute and other instruments. He took it upon himself to teach her how to properly read sheet music and was also her vocal coach for singing. Sooner or later she started to play music for some of the plays the others did as well. Bryna would also pull her aside as well to teach her some magic as well. Slowly, but surely, Inez was becoming a Bard with a lot of potential.
She still continues to travel with her theatre party, she tries to visit her mother and siblings as much as she can. One day she hopes to be a good enough Bard and go to the College of Lore. However, recently she was separated from her theatre company when a fight broke out at a theatre. Now she mostly roams around, playing her instrument and singing for money. Sometimes she’ll do odd jobs as well. Inez hasn’t given up completely and still looks for her group.
Wanted to create a new minotaur character, so introducing my Minotaur Fighter, Bapheus Wavereaver!
He woke in darkness as a harsh shriek echoed in the air around him. His thoughts were foggy, but clearing, as if waking from a terrible dream. The ground was trembling under him. As he struggled to stand, he felt a pull on his left leg. Bending down, he felt a thick manacle secured around his ankle, and a heavy chain that led to a solid stone wall. The trembling increased, and there was a loud “crack!” from the wall. He gave a mighty tug on the chain, and it came free. As the tremors continued, he began to feel his way forward.
He soon discovered he was in a series of labyrinthian tunnels, which seemed to twist and turn at random, but somehow, he instinctually knew which way to go. Eventually, the air around him began to brighten, and he could see debris on the floor made of armor and bones. As the light grew brighter, the air grew fresher, and soon the hall opened into a large chamber, and he came to a large doorway with sunlight spilling through it. Just inside the great door he saw a tall golden statue of a horned beast standing on two legs. Into the base of the statue was carved one word: “Bapheus”. By this point, the tremors had increased to such an extent that the walls around him began to crack, and pieces of the ceiling began crashing down. Shielding his eyes against the light, he ran from the structure. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was at the edge of a great forest. He quickly made his way into the dim shadows of the trees before turning back to look. A huge stone fortress sat before him in the cleft of a mountain, and as the tremors reached their peak, the tallest tower fell, crashing down into the center of the fortress, and the entire structure caved inwards on itself. As the tremors subsided and dust choked the air, he saw a large golden bird that radiated light, with small figures riding on its back, soar up and out of the destruction and over the forest towards the setting sun. He looked for a few moments longer, then turned and loped into the forest. Before he disappeared into the shadows, he could have sworn he heard a cold voice whisper in his head, but then it was gone.
Over the next few weeks, he survived on instinct alone, catching and killing small animals and eating berries from bushes. Once, he caught sight of his reflection in a stream, and recognized the face of the statue from the fortress. He tried to avoid settlements, but his luck ran out one day and he was captured by slavers (though he didn’t go easily). He was taken to a small port city and sold to a merchant sea captain, Harlow Tydes, who thought the brute would make an excellent worker on his ship, The Wavereaver. When asked what his name was, he gave the only one he knew, Bapheus.
Captain Tydes soon took a liking to Bapheus, who worked hard and learned quickly, soon becoming a favorite among the crew. Tydes taught him how to read and write, and he also became a skilled fighter, as a merchant ship is a favorite target of pirates. Tydes bartered with people in many different lands, and Baph, as he was affectionately called by the crew, had his eyes opened to a huge world he never knew existed. He especially enjoyed music and poetry, which lightened his heart and his lifted his spirits. He began to feel at home with his new “family”. However, dark dreams and memories haunted him, and every so often, he could swear he heard a whisper of a cold voice calling to him.
Ten years passed, and Bapheus grew, both in strength and in knowledge. One day, on what was decided was Baph’s birthday, Tydes called him to his quarters, and informed him that he was retiring after many successful years. He had stopped thinking of Bapheus as a slave long ago, but now he made it official, and granted him his freedom. He encouraged Baph to travel the world and see all of its wonders. Bapheus asked if he could take the name Wavereaver as his family name, and Tydes gladly agreed. They parted company, with Tydes making Baph promise that he would visit every chance he got.
So Bapheus Wavereaver set out into the world. He has traveled far and wide, taking jobs as a bodyguard, a mercenary, and anything else that fits him. Sometimes he dreams of a golden bird, and his heart is glad. Sometimes he dreams of blood and terror and a cold whisper of a voice, calling him to return to the darkness. He wonders if he will ever uncover the truth of his past, and vows if he ever does, he will fight with everything he has to remain the man he has become.
Well this is my backstory. I don't know where in the world I am and I don't know of any big city's with well known/good schools for medicine/medical practice (I know nothing of the lore for D&D)
When I was a small lad my village was ravaged by some unknown disease. My father, like his before him, was the local medicine man. He did all that he could to fight this uphill battle but all of his efforts where for not. One day it would be a scorching fever, the next it would be horrible boils. After many weeks and with so much loss of so many friends, just trying to stay ahead of this cursed disease or at the very least ease the person's pain, it finally took hold of my father as well. My father had taught me everything that he had known of Medicine and I did my best to do our family job but I was just one boy. The week after my father had died a traveling doctor had come to our village after hearing about the disease. By the time he arrived, most of the people were dead and there was little he could do to save the ones that were already sick. He was impressed by what my father and I had done with what little we had to work with and saw that there was potential for me to become a great doctor myself. He offered to take me to the city and learn medicine there, it was there that I met Dr. Farstrider. He showed me that being a doctor was more than just persurving life, but understanding death. He was a hard and cruel man and seemed to rather spend his time drinking or with women but the knowledge he possessed was intoxicating. After years of being his pupil and learning all that I could from him, our "side study's" were discovered and I was expelled. Dr. Farstrider was jailed last that I had heard. Not all the women that came home with him returned to their own homes, nor some of the drunkards that had the misfortune of letting him buy them a drink. I had no idea of how he had truly acquired some of the body's that he brought to his lab but neither had I asked. I no longer had the funds from the school or from Dr. Farstrider to continue my study into the field of death and life and to be honest, I had grown accustomed to living a comfortable life. I could no longer use my real name in public or count on the prestige of the school to gain loans. I ended up learning simple thieves tricks, forging documents, shaving coins, false facing to changing my appearance to blend into different social groups. It seemed like my family and friends had died to give me this chance and my powers with necromancy had only just begun, I won't let anything stand in my way. Not even death.
First character idea is a Wood Elf Wardancer (Monk without a creed). Looking at having the flexibility to play in an evil campaign soon with friends:
Taken from his family by a bandit raid on a wood elf camp deep in the Elderwood, Loric only had his tattoo of his family creed – the Wardancers, dancers of death in the Wood Elf culture to remind him of his roots. His earliest memories are inside a wooden cage on the back of a wagon flanked by the murders of his family: his woe feeding his fiery anger as the days rolled by. By the time the human militia happened upon the bandit caravan, Loric was rabid. Once the heavily armored men had finished routing through the parade of wagons, they found the small elf child backed into a corner of his cage; his eyes like a panicked animal. The guards left him for dead after he racked his nails over the eyes of one could-be savior.
Weak from hunger, Loric wandered the roads in his tattered clothes until he came across the gates of the town of Zarrabad. He begged, borrowed or stole to survive in Zarrabad for a month until one day whilst fending for scraps at the market, a group of pit fighters kicked at him in disgust. They were taken aback by the child’s ferocity as he leapt at the face of his attacker screaming like a banshee, his nails scratching and his hands pounding. Laughing in shock and seeing potential, the most scarred of the group Darius subdued the boy and took him to the pit where he was a champion who’d earned his freedom. Within a few months, the boy grew less feral with a full belly and structure to his days, awaking early to clean weapons and armour while gradually being trained by Darius. To calm the boy, Darius paid close attention to teaching Loric to reflect on his decisions, meditate on his thoughts and to perfect his body with a rigorous routine of stretching daily. Darius even taught Loric how to read and write in Common whilst lending the boy books on history of the races and philosophy. It was here that Loric first came to understand the ways of his people from afar…a sense of distance and loneliness only grew with more knowledge.
Years passed as Loric grew broader, stronger and eventually began besting his adolescent peers with his almost unnatural ability for an acrobatic spear heavy style in the pit. The bond between Darius and the outcast grew to respect and a glint of hidden pride showed in Darius’ eye when Loric passed the Rites of Competition by brutally dispatching of four opponents in the free for all. From that day forward, Loric was a Pit-Fighter through and through. But there were so many unanswered questions in the heartache of his past, darkness brewed by a life of violence.
Loric was never content and always troubled. Despite cultivating an interest in the ways of the mind and body, he struggled to control his emotions. This led to many brawls in the Pits where the fighters stayed. His overreactions caught more goading and Loric continued to withdraw into himself as a teen: perfecting his craft to fight some warped sense of meaning in the world. After many years of scars and hard-fought battles, Loric became known throughout the city as one of the most fearsome of foes. Success bred an unhealthy appreciation for drink and women, anything to fill the knot of discomfort in his chest. Now of higher regard in the Pits, his winnings fuelled these habits and the gap between Darius and his protégé grew. Fresh from receiving his cut from a recent victory, Loric staggered blind drunk out of a whorehouse and bumped into a group of local young nobles’ sons looking for a place to spend their plentiful gold. One accosted Loric, talking down to him like a piece of dirt while feeling protected by his status in the city.
As the goading continued, the elf’s responses grew short and his breathes deep with the effort to control his rising rage…he knew the costs of what would happen if these boys came to harm. With one final poke to the forehead by the lead blonde nobleman, Loric’s mind fell silent and his vision flashed red. When he’d regained control, the blonde noblemen’s face was pulp on the dirt – his compatriots screaming and a crowd gathering. Loric fled as tears dripped down his cheeks and he returned to the pit to collect his spear and meager belongings and made his escape into the sewers.
Once outside the walls, Loric was drawn to the forest and climbed up an oak tree where he stayed for days, gazing out across the land in a miasma of self-pity and anger coupled with an unfamiliar sense of relief.
His life was his own and finally he could set out in the pursuit of meaning and eventually find somewhere to call home.
I guess I'm on a roll. Here's a Tabaxi Cleric Fighter, Falling Leaf by Raging Waters, or Leaf for short.
Leaf was born into a prominent Tabaxi clan who lived in a village deep in a great forest next to a large, fast-moving river. At the time of his birth, a gust of wind sprang up, creating a cyclone of leaves that swept across the river rapids and through the village. The cyclone enveloped his home, depositing a bed of leaves around the newborn cub. One leaf, shaped like the symbol of the god Silvanus, fluttered down and landed on his forehead. The village elders saw it as an unmistakable sign that the child was favored by the god, and was destined to serve him. At a young age, his family took him to a nearby temple to begin his studies as a cleric.
Leaf grew up in the Temple of Silvanus, under the tutelage of the High Clerics. As a child, he was unfailingly optimistic and gregarious, traits which only grew as he matured. He loved exploring the surrounding forests, often spending days wandering through the trees, becoming friends with just about every woodland creature he came across. In addition to his Cleric studies, as an “emissary” of the god Silvanus, tasked with protecting nature, Leaf was also instructed in combat. Even though he disliked fighting, preferring instead to find a more peaceful solution, he practiced hard, determined to prove himself worthy.
His relationships with other Tabaxi were often awkward, because they viewed him as an emissary of Silvanus and often kept him at a distance. They weren’t trying to be cruel, just reverential, but the young Leaf worried there was something wrong with him, so he naively became determined to be even more friendly and positive. It didn’t help that he also wasn’t the most agile of Tabaxi, often tripping over his own tail or spilling a bowl of holy water he was carrying during a temple ritual.
One day, after Leaf had wandered further into the forest than he had before, he came upon a large group of humans who were cutting down trees. As positive and naïve as ever, Leaf struck up a conversation with them, and discovered that they were gathering lumber for a nearby settlement, which was growing quickly and beginning to encroach upon the forest. As a warden of nature, Leaf was greatly disturbed by this, and tried to convince them to stop, but he was laughed out of the camp. Determined to please Silvanus, Leaf snuck back into camp that night and destroyed their tools and supplies, then crept back to his village. The humans, angered by what they saw as an attack, eventually brought a small force against Leaf’s village, and several people on both sides perished before a truce could be reached.
The village elders and the High Clerics now had a problem. Leaf was the cause of the incident, and should be banished, but as the emissary of a god, he was only doing what he was born to do by protecting the forest. It was eventually decided to send Leaf on a quest deemed impossible, so that he could continue his work, but still be sent away from the village. Leaf was told that he was being sent out into the world to discover the location of the Staff of Silvanus, a powerful artifact that was wielded by the god in his fight to protect nature, but was lost during a great battle. Leaf, unaware that the Staff is only a legend and most likely doesn’t actually exist, gladly accepted. After a tearful goodbye with the clerics and his family, Leaf set out into the world (though the elders made sure to send him in a different direction than the human settlement).
Now, six years later, Leaf is traveling the land, searching for the Staff and spreading the teachings of Silvanus. He’s not quite as naïve as he used to be, having learned quickly (and often painfully) that life in the world is much harsher than his life in the temple. People often underestimate him, as a clumsy Tabaxi is a source of amusement, but those who know him well consider him a loyal friend who can be counted on in any situation. Even with his naive vision of the world shattered by reality, he has never lost his optimism and curiosity, and still believes in the inherent goodness of people.
I really loved reading your backstory for Leaf! You put a lot of time and thought into this and it really shows! Great work, I can't wait to see more character backstories you have :)
Hey thanks, I appreciate it. Yours is really interesting, love the whole theatre troupe angle.
I have two others in this thread, #21, my current character I’m playing, the Dragonborn sorcerer Kriv Windson, and #49, a Minotaur fighter I can’t wait to play, Bapheus Wavereaver. I’ve got some more rattling around in my head too.
I love reading everyone’s stories on here. One of my favorite parts of D&D is the world building, so keep it up!
Making a Kenku identity stealer type character. Our GM has made a world primarily inhabited by Elves, Dwarves and Humans, so I'm envisioning him hiding amongst these races while manipulating everything around him. All spells, cantrips etc are about pushing, pulling, illusions, charms, commands etc. Tome and magic initiate give him extra slots, and ultimately the character steals personalities and manipulates fate, to make sure the machinations of his patron are fulfilled.
I envisioned a setting where The Raven Queen has a rival. The Crow Father. Which is essentially the scheming aspects of the Warhammer god Tzeentch. So both are trying to make sure that mortal affairs run "according to plan" but they have different plans laid out. Thus my characters focus on manipulating die and people, instead of straight up combat.
Warlock Character with the Raven Queen patron (though renamed to Crow Father) for the spirit crow, and the old one spell list, because it's all about manipulating things. I found hers to be too combat heavy. The thing that sparked the idea was Mask of Many Faces. I like the idea of a character that had to rely on this exclusively to get by, and Kenku mimicry added a nice layer to the voice(sound) impersonations.
There exists a war. One not witnessed by mortal eyes. Behind the veil of reality, fickle Gods, hungry for power, play with the lives of the living for their own purposes and carve out their domains within the tapestry of mortal emotions.
The Raven Queen oversees the passing of the living, to the realm of the dead. She cares not why, nor whence, only that the mortals pass when it has been ordained that they do so. Her power is limited in the mortal realm, however, and she must employ agents and followers, whom she grants great power, to carry out her will. The great plan of fate has been laid out, and she will ensure that it is carried out to the letter. But fate is a fickle mistress, and not as heavy set as one might imagine.
Opposite her sits the Crow Father. The great deceiver. He has other plans for fate, and where needed, will instruct his own minions to upset the chess board laid out in front of him, for his own ends. The two have been locked in bitter struggle since time immemorial, forever obstructing the other, and setting the world on a different path. Their agents are everywhere, but where the Raven Queen bestows her power on mortals willing to make pacts with the otherworldly, the Crow Father rather bestows the “gift” of mortality upon his flock.
From beyond the veil, the Crows live. Servants of The Great Crow, bearing his twisted visage, these spectres cannot enter the world of the living freely. Instead, they must find a host, and infuse it with their essence to enter the mortal realm. Parents take the gathering of a murder of crows as an ill omen, but unknown to them, the nefarious purpose of these gatherings is more than fairytale. Where the leylines of the world wears thin the fabric of reality, the Crow Father can send his spectral flock to gather near the settlements of the living.
They cannot stay long, for their ties to this world are weak, but in number, they allow him to channel his powers of manipulation. Under the gaze of the murder of crows, young children, aged 4 and below, are enthralled to enter the forest when their parents aren’t watching. There, where the veil is torn and the Crow Father’s will seeps into the world, they will find a crystal crow skull, gleaming on the forest floor. Smooth surface casting an unnatural light, tempting them to pick it up. To touch it is to give up one’s mortal soul, the skull is a link to the nether realm and touching it creates a path for a Crow to travel into the realm of mortal man, and infuse itself within the child. The crows in the trees will flock and cover the child in a cacophony of caws. As the birds finally scatter the lifeless husk of the child is visible but changed. Only a deformed bird creature remains. Bidepal like a human, but bearing the mark of the Crow Father, the child is covered in feathers, with the head of a Crow. To help his new agent hide in the society it occupies, the Crow Father has gifted them with magical deception, as the spectral crow, now fully mortal, assumes the shape and voice of the child whose place it has taken.
The child is no more, and a Kenku is born. From here, they return to their homes, the parents of the child none the wiser. Their function is simple. Observe. Watch. Learn. When the Kenku comes of age, the Crow Father will call upon them, but until then, they hear the whispers of spectral crows, and instinctively know, that they now serve a higher purpose. Being a vessel of The Great Crow, most agents will draw upon their spectral kin, to serve them as companions. The bond to the realm behind the veil allows them to sustain the spectral form of nether crows in the mortal plane, as long as they stay close to them.
Thus the Kenku venture into the world to do His bidding, and to combat the machinations of the hated Raven Queen, and her ilk. They assume the shapes of the mortals around them, always blending in, while their spectral crow companions act as eyes and ears. They recognise others of their kind, though they be hidden from the eyes of the mortal world, coming together as a loose network of agents and spies, all with a singular purpose. To ensure that the Great Deceiver’s plans come to fruition, and to foil the attempts of the false Queen and her lackeys, should they interfere. They are known internally as The Black Talon, but in their human forms and human tongues, merely as The Watchers.
*Sound of wind whispering in the willows* [Kenku Name] or Will-I-Am (A play on words for “I am Willow”) to humans, is one such Kenku. An information broker for those who know him by “Willow”, and simple fixer and craftsman to everyone else, he mostly keeps to himself in his little tinker shop, where he fixes odds and ends. While he will occasionally deal in information for the local thieves guild, as he has an uncanny ability for predicting when certain areas have few guards in them (spying on them with his Crow) Willow is in Trier because the whispers of the Crow Father have told him that he will encounter an individual here, bearing his mark. A polished Crow Skull, hanging from a chain. Assisting this individual is vital if the false Queen’s plans are to be thwarted.
Agree with Gatsby, nice work.
I posted my first ever attempt at a backstory above and would love some constructive criticism about how this sets up for play / any gaps I've missed to make it interesting.
Looks good. Your character has a personality and a drive. Just remember your goals and bonds and ideals and all that while you're playing to help you make decisions for your character.
Ok, so I've been on a character creation kick suddenly. Here's a kind-of creatively-experimental backstory for an Aarakocran monk named Salleek.
I based the writing style on the fact that Aarakocra who have lived their entire lives on the Elemental Plane of Air would probably think and communicate in an entirely different type of language than beings on the Material Plane. So, here goes. Please tell me if it's a complete misfire.
Freedom! Flight. Soaring. Light. Updraft. Wings. Flapping. Gliding. Peace. Contentment. Climbing. Surging. Higher. Clouds. Mist. Dim. Darkness. Breakthrough! Sun. Warmth. Air. Infinite. Hang. Motionless. Breeze. Dive. Plummet. Outstretch. Glide. Joy!
Sunset. Glide. Wind. Follow. Earthshard. Floating. Rock. Grass. Wood. Nest. Home. Call. Answer! Family. Mate. Children. Community. Friends. Elders. Security. Strength. Safety.
Twilight. Stars. Love. Aera. Together. Warmth. Bond. Laugh. Devotion. Passion. Tenderness. Drowsy. Tired. Aera. Close. Sleep.
Screaming? Night. Awake. Darkness. Confusion. Call. Aera? Gone. Cries. Community. Chaos. Fire. Shrieks. Smoke. Danger. Eyes. Wings. Big. Claws. Anger. Stone. Talons. Call. Children? Gone. Call. Aera? Nothing. Blood. Death. Surrounding. Enemies. Strangers. Hatred.
Flight. Search. Friends. Fewer. Regroup. Attack! Fight. Wind. Howling. Storm. Fire. Lightning. Lights. Magic? Dodge. Cover. Think. Family. Lover. Where? Call. Call. Call. Struck. Monster! Evil. Fight. Desperate. Fall. Twist. Free. Flight. Avoid. Monster. Claws. Crystal. Glowing? Chanting. Air. Dead. Sudden. Wind. Quiet. Curious. Chanting. Wind. Reverse. Swirling. Pulling. Tumbling. Dropping. Stars. Fading. Light. White. Swirling. Wings. Useless. Air. Changing. Plummeting. Lost. Call. Call. Call. Call. Call.
Crash! Pain. Darkness. Tree? Branch. Cling. Perch. Silence. Fly. Pain! Fall. Ground? Trees? Sky. Stars. Different? Call. Aera? Silence. Listen. Nothing. Cover. Shadows. Exhausted. Pain. Sleep.
Light. Sun. Stand. Wing. Broken. Call. Silence. Call. Silence. Cold. Alone. Despair. Hopeless. Walk. Limp. Forest. Silent. Time. Sunset. Noise. Stream. Water. Drink. Thankful. Hunger. Bush. Berries. Better. Walk. Night. Scent. Smoke? Search. Clearing. Structure. Lights. People? Hide. Wait. Watch. Late. Figure. Man. Cloak. Staff. Old. Alone. Aid? Approach. Surprise. Shout. Staff. Defending. Looking. Stare. Surprise? Thinking. Inviting. Fire. Warm. Food! Better. Man. Strange. Ears. Pointed. Talking. Understanding? None. Frustration. Bed. Sleep.
Time. Passing. Man. Teaching. His language. He Elvish. Calls me “Aarakocra”. Calls him Erdan. Strange word. Strange place. Ground everywhere. Trees massive. Little sky. Feel trapped. Can’t fly. Erdan tends wing. Begin healing. Where Aera? Where I?
More time pass. Erdan a “monk”. Lives alone in forest, but not lonely. Says I’m from Air Plane. Now I’m on Material Plane. Questions. Many questions. No answers. Wing mending. Erdan teaching.
Erdan says it’s been a year since I showed up at his door. I’ve learned most of his words, but he lacks…music to say mine. He calls me Salleek, which sounds like some of my name. He’s teaching me the ways of his order, how to harness my spirit and channel my spirit. Despair at ever seeing home or family again.
Erdan is dying. He tells me that he has lived over 800 years, but now his time is ending. He has given me so much. My wing has healed, and with his teaching I can fight better than ever. Erdan has been my friend for 12 years, my only friend in this place so different from my home. What am I going to do now? Erdan tells me that I might find answers in the Elven capital, and that when he is gone, that is where I should go. His breath becomes shallower, and he asks me for one favor. Would I take him to the sky, so that he can see the world as I do? Even 2 years ago this would be impossible, but now, his body wracked with disease, he is as light as a feather. I carry him outside, and I spread my wings and lift off. I soar up through the clouds, Erdan laughing and shouting with joy. As I get above the clouds, the land spreads out before us, the golden light of the setting sun illuminating the wonder of this world. It’s almost as beautiful as home. With tears in his eyes, Erdan thanks me for this great gift. By the time I land, Erdan isn’t crying anymore.
I bury his body as his tradition dictates, gather a few possessions, and take a last look at the small cabin we shared for so many years. I say goodbye to my friend, then spread my wings and take off, heading west toward the civilization Erdan avoided for so long. Will I find the answers I seek? Will I see Aera and my children again? Will I be able to defeat the monsters that took it all away? I have no friends here. I have no community. I have almost nothing. I have Erdan’s teachings, and I have his staff. Above it all though, I have the most important thing. I have hope.
I've got so many that I haven't had a chance to play. I like dreaming up characters in my spare time. Here's a few favorites.
Drohvan Coppermane: Dwarf Rogue
A scout in the dwarven army, he was captured during a campaign against the Duergar. His company, under the command of the young prince, suffered a horrible loss after his capture. When called to account for the loss of 800 dwarven lives, the prince blamed the scouts who never returned. One of them must have betrayed them. When Drohvan was finally able to escape, he made it back to his people, only to be arrested on sight. They believed he had betrayed them, and his "escape" was just him returning to spy on them. He was branded a coward and a traitor (literally, dwarven runes branded on his face) and exiled. He found work on a ship that didn't ask too many questions, but after a night of heavy drinking, he woke up in an alley, the ship was gone, and his pack was left on the dock. With nowhere to go, he meets the rest of the party.
Anton d'Chapelle: Half Elf Tempest Cleric
Anton was raised in the church of Talos. He has no memory of his parents. The priests say that he was left on the steps of the temple as a child. He was trained as an acolyte until the day he was struck by lightning. Anton believed it to be a sign that he was chosen by Talos. He then set off as a wandering cleric, spreading the teachings of the Stormlord. (Twist: Anton is utterly insane. The voice in his head isn't his god. He was left at the temple when he was 3 after he eviscerated the family cat. His main weapon is a flail, which he also uses to flagellate himself during his prayers.)
Taggit Crookshank: Gnome Fighter
A member of the city watch, he isn't the brightest torch, but he has a heart of gold. Has a tendency to stumble into the right place at the right time and accidentally save the day. He's chasing down a thief who stole a precious family heirloom from the duke's manor. (Twist: The robbery was staged. The whole thing is a wild goose chase to keep Taggit away from some nefarious scheme.)
Those are some of the simple ones. I won't even attempt to enter the more convoluted ones on my phone.
This is my Assimar monk that I'm going to start playing in a week or two
Being raised in a temple of Torm is a; different upbringing, especially when your even stranger than the rest of the flock. Born into a family of human farmers Isaac was swiftly noticed by a nearby sect of clerics, occasionally growing wings and shinning like sun doesn't go unnoticed.
Constant lessons on history, languages, and how not to live your is mandatory for all residents of the temple, but more was expected of Issac given his divine blood. By his 20th year life had grown dull, well on the path to becoming a high priest of Torm simple lessons became the least of his worries constant appearances and meetings with high ranking member of the church, training with weapons of war, being made to decide judgement according to the strict laws, not even sleep was an escape with constant instruction from his angelic guide, dull life faded into melancholy.
One day a wandering monk came to the temple beaten to brink of death. Master Jormund.
During his recovery Issac stuck to him like glue, listening to his stories of evils triumphed and a carefree life.
Shrugging more and more of his duties spending time meditating and speaking with Jormund until one day Master Jormund left, Issac was nowhere to be found.
Issac spent the next 3 years on the road with his new friend and teacher Jormund. Doing good with seemingly no rhyme or reason, seeing new lands, this revitalized Issac's spirit. Life was good, but you can't run from your past forever....
Illustration - https://imgur.com/sOgjpNC Please don't judge I only draw a few times a year