I participated in a D&D group for the first time two weeks ago. The group's DM suggested that I should make a new character for his campaign. So, I decided to create a second character in my account because of that.
General facts:
Name: Malcer Blackwind
Race: Male Variant Human (with Draconic bloodline)
Class: Sorcerer Lv. 1
Physical characteristics:
36 years old, 5'8'', 180 lb, medium-sized, fairly tanned skin, persian blue eyes, short black hair, with an undercut and a somewhat trimmed beard. Has a visible neck tattoo representing Bahamut triumphing over Takhsis; a tribute to his Draconic lineage. Left side of his face slightly scarred from an incident that happened when he was a child. Eyes changing constantly from blue to golden yellow when focused enough. Of Solamnian ethnicity (with him being the only fairly tanned individual in his native land). Wears a protective hood to conceal his true identity and powers, along with a black tunic and a pair of black bridges.
Background:
Sage background
Studying the most obscure scrolls and manuscripts that Krynn has left in its wake from eon to eon, under the great guise of his mentor Astinus of Palanthas (head librarian of the Library of Palanthas), and honing his craftsmanship and his skills in the Tower of High Sorcery, Malcer Blackwind has used this knowledge to a great advantage during his years in Solamnia as a researcher and as a sorcerer, a nation that is located in the northwestern region of Ansalon.
Born in Kalaman, his childhood was filled with an insatiable appetite to learn more and more about Krynn, whether if it’s the ruined vestiges left behind, the incredible archaeological marvels of the Old City of Palanthas, the rampant neighborhoods surrounding him or the seemingly infinite knowledge gathered and amassed over the last two-hundred years in the Library of Palanthas. His family has contributed immensely in that aspect; his father was a well-renowned historian in Ansalon (second to Astinus himself) and his mother belonged to a guild of wizards at the University of Kalaman, seeking only to do justice and guide the country to better ages...
Because of their constant absence, at the age of six years old, Malcer tried to create his first spell of colorful aurorae, but ended severely when the phosphorus used scorched near the fireplace of his family’s mansion, unbeknownst to him at the time. It burned the left side of his face, but not enough to char it without recognition.
What is also unbeknownst to him is his bloodline. His parents have always insisted on his Solamnian ethnicity. But, his golden scales throughout his body have remained a huge mystery to him. Reassured, but unrestful about his true origins, Malcer always had that tingling, existential doubt that he was half-Draconic. How though? How is it possible that the Dragonborn have lived within the nations of Krynn?
This was entirely the motivation behind his choices to delve deeper into the Draconic bloodlines over the years (if they were any in the continents and cities of Krynn) and to choose sorcery as his future calling.
Now, he embarks on a quest to learn more about this Draconic enigma residing within him…
And what about the text left behind by Astinus? What can only happen if it falls into the wrong hands, of those who chose Tiamat...
If anyone has thoughts or suggestions, be more than welcome to reply. Thanks!
Here is my backstory for my Hexblade warlock, Eladrin elf. Hope you guys enjoy and can offer some constructive criticism! Please tell me if you enjoy it!
Born into the magic of the Eladrins I grew up in a loving family with two brothers and a sister. Being born in the Feywild I am no stranger to things of odd nature. Our city of Alatrast would flicker between the material plane and the Feywild quite often. Because of this, we began to grow accustomed to the existence of humans and other things indigenous to the material plane. As I was training my magic I ventured outside the city walls just before it flickered out from the Material Plane. I cried for the first time that night, trapped inside a Plane in which I knew the things that happened here, but never had stayed for a full day outside the walls. I waited. A day went by and I waited again. For twelve days and twelve nights, I waited hoping that Alatrast would come back, its torch-lit streets welcoming back home. But it never did. So, my heart filled with the essence of homesickness I wandered through the forest in which Alatrast would appear. I traveled through the brush and vines, getting stuck multiple times along the way. After hours of walking I stopped by a river, taking a drink I stared into the clear water. What stared back appalled me. I was disheveled, my clothes were torn and tattered from the thorns and my hair was matted. Spats of mud were strewn in it. I took a bath in that river, dipping my head multiple times underneath, each time holding my breath a little while longer. When I meditated that night I had a vision. I was in the same forest but something was different. I felt like I was being watched. As I looked around I saw a blade. Around me were eye-like shapes on the trees, flicking to me and the sword as if to try to lure me to the sword which glowed in the moonlight. As I approached the sword I heard a voice, whispering to me, with a dull low tone that made me feel safe and protected. It said, "You wish to go back? I can help you. Wield this power that will help you find your way back and I shall guide you." The light got brighter as I picked up the sword, it growing more fierce and blinding as I reached for it before I woke. A mark etched into my hand and a blade in the other. I smiled excitedly to find my way back to the place I once called home. Since then I have been traveling, marking things in a journal I hope to one day show my younger siblings. Recordings of the adventures I've had and the people I have met. Along the way, I stayed in a temple. Dedicated to the Old Gods of warlocks. The Fiend, the Hexblade, the Archfey, and the Celestial. They taught me the way of the blade. To curse my opponents and manifest the power I had inside of me, through the weapons I wield. I learned to control it and even learned a way to summon my now trusty traveling companion PuttPut. She is a gentle black pseudodragon. She is very shy in public places but she loves to roam free like a common dog or mastiff. At night she curls up in my meditating lap and positions herself so that no one may disturb me. She is a great companion if only more people saw her that way.
My Rock Gnome background has been within my family for generations. They worked in large underground caves that dwelled deep into the Earth's Crust, as did my Grandparents. My siblings further continue this tradition of mining along the mountainside, but I have strayed away from tradition in search of knowledge.
Living within the mountains, there's no knowledge to be found. Nothing except how to deepen the mines. Once they had known about my emotions, my fellow Rock Gnomes were exceptionally disappointed in me. Whilst I do obey laws and have a joyous personality, after realising that there was nothing bright in my future I had to go against my own morals, steal gems to pay my fees, run away and travel around the world, all in search of knowledge.
I travelled to the largest library in the world. Housed within the High Elf capital. I was denied entry, until I had passed some trials. Understanding my commitment towards Wizardry, the High Elf teacher took me in as an apprentice. I was made to wield a wand, and taught to hit a dummy using a spell called, "magic missiles". The easiest spell, according to the Wizardess, learnt by almost every High Elf... My family would've been in awe.
There was another foreign race at the school, a Tiefling named Therai. Being already proficient in fire magic, he seeked to increase his knowledge but the elves had a hard time teaching him arcane spells. Lacking the funding for both students, we were to compete for the apprenticeship.
Everybody could tell that Therai wasn't as intrigued by all this as I was. He relied on his already proficient past, but the magic schools are entirely different. He never seemed to interact with others, always distant. The elves were in favour of taking me under their wing and removing Therai, it was a bad idea to announce this.
Everyone had woken in the night, an arcane elemental was constantly exploding with energy as if to sound an alarm. The entire library was up in flames. Being surrounded by water, the only way the place could have caught fire would have been from the inside. Therai was nowhere to be seen.
Everybody was trapped. Arcane magic had no use to extinguish fires. Adrenaline pumping, I traced a frost rune along the floor, held out my hands, and my mind went blank.
I awoke on the floor, my teacher next to me, scarred from her attempts to save her students. There were loud cheers as I moved, but my teacher was unresponsive. The cheers died down, and everybody focused their attention to the Wizardess, who had almost no life left in her. With her last few breaths, she said, "Brocco... You saved us all. You saved the millennia of knowledge held within this academy." She motions to her arcane focus, "Take it, Brocco. This will be enough to channel any arcane spell you learn. You are gifted, Brocco, your adrenaline drives your power. You may not know your full potential until you are faced with great danger. You'll be a great Wizard Brocco, you must continue to learn, and you'll vastly surpass us all. With her last breath, she smiles, as if to say thanks, and lay motionless on the floor.
I swear, I will avenge you.
Word of my great deed had been spread all over the land, and I continued my search for knowledge as promised, until one day I received a letter from my family. They wanted me to return.
I returned home and my peers gathered all the precious rocks they have mined, the materials needed to craft a great weapon. With the help of my family and their mining proficiency, I made my way to the Dwarven capital city. Due to our generations of established mining and gold trade, I was able to acquire labour from their finest blacksmith, who had in return, crafted a fine, platinum quarterstaff. With the rest of the precious minerals, the rod had been diamond encrusted in a spiral pattern reinforced by gold along the edges. At the tip, a large radiant cut ruby to siphon my magic from. Whom he had entitled, "Dreamwatcher".
This is the first character I've made who I'll actually get to play. There aren't a ton of details or specifics yet because the campaign doesn't start until summer, so I haven't talked with the dm yet about the world. Also, my writing is complete ****, so I'm just going to put things down.
Hummingbirds in the Night, Female Tabaxi Fighter (Arcane Archer) Tabaxi names are inspired by Aztec god names, so that's why it's weird. HitN just lets people shorten it however they want rather than say the whole thing every time.
this first one is just a description of appearance and brief biology lesson
Like most tabaxi she is tall, standing at 6'7". Seeing as she is a cheetah tabaxi, she is also thin and relatively light at about 200 lbs. I've made the decision for my dm that tabaxi in this world are digitigrade, meaning they stand on their toes like the dogs and cats of out world (the other option would be plantigrade, what we are). Her eyes are green, and because I'm a sucky writer I'll just go generic and call them emerald. Her big defining feature is her melanism. Her spots and tear marks are still visible, but just barely. For those who don't know what melanin is, it's the pigment in skin and hair that gives color. Melanistic animals have much darker fur/skin, kind of a reverse albinism. Think of black panthers. There are just melanistic cougars (Africa and Asia) or jaguars (Americas). Her spots and tear marks are still visible, but just barely.
Backstory, poorly authored and everything. hooray
Hummingbird in the Night grew up in the ________ tribe (________ because tabaxi tribe names are often based off of nearby terrain, I'll let my dm do the world building). From the age of 13 she was taught how to use the bow and helped with hunts. For the most part this was her life. Hunt, talk and play with others in the tribe, trade with other tribes. Comfortable, but largely unexciting. As a solution for her boredom, she would frequently go out and explore the area between hunts. Nothing too dangerous ever happened, and time continued to pass.
When she was 32 a group of six elves showed up at her tribe. They were there as a research group from a college in some elvish city or other. The reason they had stopped by the tribe was to ask if they could hire someone to act as a guide through the jungle and surrounding areas. Tabaxi have no interest in money, but they had been going though a time of plenty and were happy to allow someone to accompany them. Hummingbird was suggested because of her frequent forays, and she accepted with glee. The Cat Lord had blessed her with curiosity, and the chance to go with researchers sounded perfect to her.
For the next half year, Hummingbird traveled with them. The group consisted of two zoologists, two botanists, a translator/student (common is not common in this area of the world), and an armed escort. As they journeyed, Hummingbird learned from them about both their fields and the rest of the world. She managed to get a decent understanding of both common and Elvish, and relished in hearing the stories being told in their native languages. Her favorite stories were from Feron Erynton, the guard who was accompanying them. Feron was an arcane archer, one of the elite fighters of the Elvish world. Noticing both her adeptness with the bow and learning new things, Feron offered to teach her how to be an arcane archer as well. Although six months was no enough for her to completely learn, or even begin being able to use magic, it was enough to instill the knowledge necessary for her to learn.
Their expedition time eventually, and it was time for the elves to head back to society. Knowing that her tribe had no need for another hunter, Hummingbird caught a ride on their ship. She was determined to see and learn about as much of the world as she could. After saying goodbye to her friends of the past six months, she got a job guarding a caravan and set off. She lived this way for the next year, just traveling where she could and taking in everything the entire way. Now she's sitting in an inn, waiting for the next chance for adventure to present itself...
Here's a sketch /u/raviary from reddit was kind enough to draw for me.
Wilsariphon Farwood, a Half-Elf Sorcerer, wasn't always this way. In his earlier years, he lied about holding great power and earned large sums of money for this. However, when his ancestors learned of this, they cursed him with strange powers he had no idea how to use.... along with hideous scarring.
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For god's sake. Find a hobby or something. Sheesh. Please stop using this font.
Looking for some constructive criticism. I'm fairly knew to D&D so I'm still getting aquainted with much of the lore. I wrote the character up a few weeks ago with a vague idea in my head and now I've finally committed to putting it down in writing. It's a rough draft that needs some polish, but please let me know what you think.
Jys'arra Kil'rahel Level 1 Drow Cleric (Light)
Jys'arra is what the Drow refer to as a Szarkai, Ghost Spiders. Although extremely rare and a subject of mystery, they could easily pass as normal elves, making them ideal spies for the drow noble houses, able to operate freely in the surface world. She was trained from a very young age in espionage and sabotage and readied for a life undercover on the surface. On her 16th nameday Jys'arra, along with a fellow Drow spy named Val'dorl De’afin, was sent to the city of Waterdeep with instruction to infiltrate the Promenade of the Dark Maiden and destroy the Faith of Eilistraee. Over decades she worked to subvert and discredit the Faith while joining their ranks masquerading as a lowborn Wood Elf come to give what aid she may. Over years she proved herself willing and able to devote herself to the Faith through the mundane task of caring for the temple. The High Elf Paelias Holimion took Jys'arra as his student and put her onto the path to becoming a Cleric of Eilistraee. Through much study and his teachings Jys'arra learned the tragedy of the Drow. She slowly found herself questioning her loyalty and her mission. This place and all the collected people were so different than the world she came from. Gone was the constant political maneuvering and struggle for supremacy over your kin. It was replaced with collaboration, understanding, and empathy. All these were foreign to Jys'arra, but the longer she was surrounded by them the more she felt pulled towards the light. After much thought and, somewhat surprisingly to her, prayer to the Dark Maiden, Jys'arra decided she would reveal who and what she was to Paelias. She was certain it would mean the end of her time in The Promenade and that Paelias would no longer be her mentor and friend, but she could no longer bear the burden of her dishonesty. After one last prayer on the night of her planned reveal, Jys'arra was confronted by Val'dorl, furious at her betrayal of her people and rejection of Lolth. He drew two blades and came at her in a blinding rage. Unarmed, she shrank backwards to avoid the attack, stumbling over a pedestal and spilling several Holy symbols. Val'dorl slashed frantically and found purchase, opening a large slice upon Jys'arra’s back. Blinded by the pain she reached out for something, anything she could use to fend off her would be killer. Her hands clawed across the floor until she felt something and grabbed hold of it while rising to her feet and turning to meet Val'dorl and thrusting forward with her hand. Val'dorl let loose a hideous scream. Jys'arra’s hand shone like the sun, but it was not alone. Next to her stood the goddess Eilistraee, hand outstretched to meet Val'dorl. The light burned at his flesh, and symbol of the crescent moon that Jys'arra had grabbed in her haste was etched into his skin. Val'dorl pried the burning hands from his face and ran from the temple. The light faded from Jys'arra’s hand and she began to fall, but felt the embrace of Eilistraee as the goddess caught and lowered her gently to the ground. Before falling into unconsciousness Jys'arra saw Eilistraee smile at her and whisper, “My child. I heard you calling through the darkness to the light.”
To preface this the following character is a backup character to my main one. He is a Half-elf Male Blood Hunter from the Order of the Lycan. I have not played him as of yet, but what I can say is a lot of his background is from me rolling dice on tables from Xanathar's Guide To Everything to get a random outcome. I think I did well rolling random there and rolling random on background stuff from the player handbook. The following is the back story incorporating that. Enjoy.
Background Story: Walnan's live started out not in a place most would think nobles would start. As the story goes his mother. a half-elf woman of noted beauty, was not one to sit idle when pregnant and would often take walks with his reluctant father, also a half elf, in the woods of their estate. His father begrudgingly let his wife do this so long as he went with her. It was during one such walk that a fierce storm quickly built up over head out of no where and forced them to the nearby cave. That night was when his mother had given birth to Walnan with help from his father while they were stuck in the cave due to the storm.
Due to this story many believe that night is what made Walnan stand out among his two other siblings as he would often be found outdoors and dreaming of wild adventures. He could often be found coming home after playing with several of the children of his age in the city all dirty and clothes a mess at the horror of the staff and his father. His mother on the other hand would encourage his adventuring and free spirit as much as she could when his father was not around.
That would not last though as it was after the birth of his younger sister, Alyria, that his parents had a fight with each other over matters that young Walnan did not understand that led them to splitting up. His mother left with Alyria shortly after the fight leaving him and his eldest brother, Edmond, to be raised by their aristocratic father. After they split, Walnan's days of adventure and freedom came to an end as it was replaced with near constant study and only brief time for the friends he had once played with.
Many years passed for young Walnan, who was now 19, as he lived the life his overbearing father set for him. Hating much of the noble life, Walnan looked for any excuse to get away from it. It was one such night that he learned that he was to be betrothed to some girl of another noble family that Walnan finally said enough was enough. Taking what he could he found captain that docks willing to give him passage out of the city and to the Kingdom of the Dragon territory.
Finding himself on the outskirts of the capital of the kingdom poor from paying the ship captain, Walnan dropped his family name and taking the surname Fenwen. Over the next few years, Walnan would have a hard life living in the streets and ended up doing things he would never had done when he was still a son of a noble. He found that his good looks would often get him further then his ability to sneak and steal as such often selling his body instead.
Being led one night to what he thought would be an abandoned temple to a lesser known Elven god for what had been agreed on with a noble man as a night of entertainment turned into a near death experience and change in the young half elf's life. The man who hired him turned out to be a werewolf that turned on him early into the evening. The last thing he saw as he fought back and ran was a number of Blood Hunters stormed the temple, having been following them unseen up to that point, and him falling into darkness as he fell bleeding against a wall from the wounds the werewolf gave him. What happened in his near death state he does not talk about, but there was a pact made between him and the god Donn making him the gods instrument on the material plane.
What followed as Walnan came to in the Blood Hunter's safe house, was a turning point in the half elf boys life as he began to dedicate his life to god Donn and to the eradication of creatures like the werewolf who almost killed him. Years later after a lot of training, he is now on the outskirts of the kingdom following rumors of creatures harming the populous. Where ever the god Donn needs him to go he will follow and he will protect those in need.
My characters name is Brakeson, king of Meros. He was born king but is called a tyrant by his people. He is a level 20 fighter but has magic gifted to him by mages. He has the blood of a god that nobody knows the name of, but he thinks that he is a god himself(insane). After discovering a magic wand, he uses it to make an infinite amount of clones of himself(to be immortal), and stores them in demiplanes. He wields modified vorpal blades, a armored cloak and a wand of necromancy. His brother constantly sends assassins to kill him but sometimes just makes him lose a clone of himself.
Kimo was abandoned at a young age. In a port city, he was found by a blue dragonborn merchant ship captain. Captain Valen Corsain of the merchant vessel the Bronze Star, adopted Kimo and raised him aboard the ship. There Kimo learned to be a sailor while the crew gave him a basic education.
His pseudo-father Valen taught him how to navigate. Molly, a female elf, taught him to read, write, and speak in both Common and Elven. Dimble, the male gnome chef, trained him in the ships galley to prepare and cook many dishes. Korvek, the male half-orc first mate, worked him to the bone teaching him the ins and outs of the ship. Cass, a female half-elf, taught him manners and how to be charismatic. Finally, Lucief, a male tiefling, taught him the basics of swordsmanship.
Years later Kimo asked his pseudo-father why he had taken him in. Valen responded, “Long ago, I was a pirate. I stole and killed in the name of greed. I spent many days drinking and partying until I was penniless. No one I knew would help me as a wasted away. A random stranger came to my aid and helped me put my life back together. They told me that in the future I would have ‘pay forward’ the same kindness. When I took you in it was meant to repay that kindness and make up for the mistakes I made in my life. But now, I see you as my true son. I hope that in your future you can offer the same kindness to others in need.” Kimo nodded to his father, “I promise.”
One day, the ship was making a normal shipping run to the East. The crew were caught off guard by a horrible storm. The ship was destroyed and Kimo was left floating on a piece of driftwood. Certain he was going to die, he was surprise to hear a sultry female voice. Before him a female figure made of lavender light asked, “Do you wish to live?” Kimo had lost his entire adoptive family, but he remembered all the people who raised him and the promise he made to his adoptive father. He agreed, and the female voice responded, “Then accept my gift and survive!” He felt a burning sensation in his arm that caused him to go unconscious.
When Kimo next awoke, he was on a beach. A purple gem was imbedded in his left arm with lavender tattoos surrounding it. He was able to summon magic through this crystal. Kimo set off with these new-found abilities to keep the promise he made. Kimo wish to show the same kindness he was shown as a child, but he is still ignorant to the true nature of the world. His youth and naivety may cause him to be victim to the evils of others.
My character is a Gnomish Cleric of Garl Glittergold. I wrote his backstory as a sermon when he was 1st level.
The Way of Improvement
Or
How I Became a Glitterbright
A Testimonial Sermon by Bren Krelin for the Motivation and Betterment of the Gnomish Peoples
Brothers and Sisters,
Many of you are suffering hard times. You are stuck in a rut. Your plans have not worked out and you don’t know where to turn next. You do the same thing day in and day out and now despair for what else to do.
I would like to tell you that are not alone. I too have felt this despair. Growing up I knew my path. I dreamed of being a great wizard and casting great spells and truly wielding power. I sought out great wizards to teach me to be one of them, but before I even had a chance to begin I was told that I was not good enough. I was thrown out of their presence and returned to my town.
I didn’t know what to do. I took a position repairing clockwork items in a blacksmiths shop which kept me fed and occupied, but I was miserable. Soon I also took a position at the bar of the local tavern every night of the week, which kept me in a stupor, but I could stand myself.
Every day I expected to find my path. Every day I thought, I will find something to do with myself. Every day I just knew that the next day would be the day that I would be able to move on and find some new endeavor to improve my lot in life, and every day… I felt worse and worse.
My despair deepened. The tavern mead no longer kept the misery at bay. I could not stand myself for one more moment. I wandered out of the tavern and out of town. There was a mountain about an hour’s walk out of town, a small one, but tall enough for my purposes.
I had drunk most of the night away and the morning too. It was the hazy orange of dawn by the time I got to the path up to the mines near the top of the mountain. I was tired but trudged my way up, intent on getting high enough to throw my self off the path and end my pain.
I stared at my feet as I walked upward, and about halfway up I kicked something small, that rolled away. I walked over to where it stopped and picked it up. I appeared to be a small gold nugget. I would have been overjoyed if I had any interest in money, but gnomes set on killing themselves have little use for wealth. Despite this I gazed at it, transfixed. I tried to continue walking, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
I had a thought, or perhaps I heard a voice that said, “Take this to the shrine of Garl Glittergold in Gogton. Ask for the blessing of the Glitterbright there.”
I paused. My resolve to end my existence wavering. My thoughts were still clouded by a whole nights worth of mead, but in spite of this, or perhaps because of it I headed back down the mountain and to town.
I had never been one for religion. My parents told me stories of the gods and their exploits. They told me of Garl collapsing the caverns of Kurtulmak and I laughed at the silly god of the Kobolds, but I had always been focused on magic.
I soon found my feet had carried me to Garl’s Shrine. It was daylight now, but still early. An old Glitterbright in his robes sat at the shrine, smoking a pipe, seemly lost in thought. I walked up to him and he looked me over. He wrinkled his nose at me trying not to be rude and reel at the smell of alcohol and sweat that emanated from me. I was dirty too from my walk up the mountain. After some time he asked, “Can I help you with something?”
I lifted my hand and showed him the gold nugget. He looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed out loud. Then he said seemingly to no one, “Garl you old trickster, I thought you were sending me a cleric,” then he looked at me and asked, “Are you a cleric?”
I shook my head no. “Garl is a prankster,” he said. “I prayed for a new cleric to train and he sent me a drunk.”
I stood there confused for a moment. Then one word popped into my head: “Magic” I said out loud.
The old Glitterbright looked up and said “what?”
“Magic” I said again. “I want to be able to do magic.”
“I can’t teach you that. My magic comes from old Garl. You could only use it if he gave it to you, and you don’t look like the type,” he said.
“I could try.”
“What magic? No offence, but your drunk. Go home”
“No, I’m supposed to be here, I was told to come.”
“By who?”
I hesitated, then said, “this chunk of gold.”
He looked puzzled again, “maybe you are him.”
He took me in and over the next month or so tested me. He prayed and made me pray he showed me texts of the exploits of Garl Glittergold and he pranked his way through the gods. He fed me and sobered me up. I spent my days reading holy texts and learning not just of Garl but of other gods as well. Finally one day he told me a word to say, and told me to think of my eyes as jewels. I said the word and he had me look in a mirror. My eyes looked like cut sapphires. It was just an illusion of course, but it was an illusion that I had made with the help of Garl Glittergold. That day he conducted a ceremony to initiate me as a Glitterbright. I had found a new purpose and way to grow. I was doing magic after all, just not the way I thought I would.
Brothers and Sisters Garl Glittergold does not leave his followers to do nothing. He means for you to grow, to learn to find your ways to whatever you are looking to find. Do not despair. Seek knowledge and growth, even when it seems that it will elude you forever.
Bren is now level 5 and picked up the Magical Initiate (Wizard) feat at 4th level and his first Wizard level at level 5.
Looking for some constructive criticism. I'm fairly knew to D&D so I'm still getting aquainted with much of the lore. I wrote the character up a few weeks ago with a vague idea in my head and now I've finally committed to putting it down in writing. It's a rough draft that needs some polish, but please let me know what you think.
Having DM'd a lot of games, there are two things I want from a back story. I want to know who the character is and what drives them and I want a few hooks that I can potentially use in the adventure. A goddess showing up to save a character is a pretty good hook that a DM might be able to use. The betrayal of her cause is another. The concept of the spy trained from a young age is a good trope, but maybe expand on it a little which may give further motivation to defect. She sees good in the people she is infiltrating which is half the defection story, but what was different in the Underdark that set her up for it. What happened there that set her up to have her loyalty tested but not Val'dorl De’afin?
I tired to make a Orc Monk that was Lawful evil. (or I'll make a barbarian) Didn't even name the character till the end. But I appreciate feedback
An Red skinned half orc, Thrown away from the Orc clutch because of her size and inability to be used as a breeding mate for the orc's growing warparty. Kerii was left to die as an afterthought to the orc culture discarded more as trash than person.
However an orc slaver took her in to use as his own. Raising the young red half orc to be a slave to his arena. Cleaning the mess, preparing the grounds and fetching the broken debris.
A slave to arena, abused and exploited treated like the lowest goblin. Holding no rank or even real orc name, a piece of property claimed not a member of the tribe. Kept away from tribe tradition.
When the arena wasn't used she was subject to the whims of her orc master. Forced to perform and dance to entertain tribal men, to please her masters control over her, or else be taught a lesson on the flesh by the jagged edge of a orc blade.
After one too many embarrassments to the Orc Slaver and fed up with the beatings not working she was thrown to the arena to be used as fodder and spat out. Life in the arena was destined to be short for these victims, more likely to die at a whim of the crowd as much as the blade of the combatant. A Death sentence either way no matter how long you survive.
Barely surviving the arena for weeks by speed and dirty tactics, she succumb to layers of scars on her whole body. Most predominately on her back by whips. Her life was spent as an amusing game for the attendees, watching as she was scrabbling around the arena while being flung back and forth to the cheers of the warband. Beaten and often left unconscious she became the personal whipping dog for the arena. Even on her two only victories she was beaten to be taught a lesson. Unable to be granted death because the amusement she gave them.
However through her sufferings she noticed that all of the arena crowds and fighters, not one was female, she had not seen another since her time before the slaver. Surely there should be more that just her. Especially when she see young orc men among the barking crowds.
On a cloudy night under the cover an orc raid rally she planned her escape, slipping her bonds using a shiv she found in a previous fight. Hoping that the festivities would mask her movement and sound.
She broke free.
Eager to flee this hole, she ran for the nearby tall grass plains. She was in the clear and made her freedom without even an alarm. But she couldn't leave, she needed to know of the other girls, she wanted to know why they were missing.
Under all better judgement and her heart screaming she is free, she went back to the orc camp.
With low profile and avoiding all confrontation she skulked around the tents, unfamiliar to her as much as the surrounding plains. She figured the most guarded tents would probably have the girls, she just needed to find the largest and most guarded tents.
On a protected edge of the cliff a large tent seemed promising. Guarded by Orc sentries at the entrance she surmised this is the tent. Cutting a whole in the side she opened the tent up to a unforgettable sight. Bloated female orcs and half orcs, covered in boils and sweat. Swollen with pregnancy far beyond reason with the smell of blood and puss. Breathless and wanting to scream, she approached the swollen masses. Trying to find a end to which to communicate with. All while hearing the constant sound of flesh squishing and children crying.
Horrified she found a face, gripping both hands on either side. She knelt down asking what going on. No response. The females just stared blankly, like unliving beings. Drugged or bewitched to be breeding pods for the warband. She tugged, pulled, pushed the as many as she could. None responded.
She realized there was something worse than death, she was staring it in the face. She was the lucky one.
She grabbed the closest weapons she could find. The shiv she had wouldn't be able to do it, it wasn't sharp enough or long enough. A spear and orc sword, more like a crude machete. With trembling hands and tears in her eyes she began culling the women, made worse with none of them making a sound. No screams of pain, no reaction to the blades tearing the flesh. Dull masses of flesh just ending. It took eons to her, with tears of sadness slowly becoming tears of rage and hate as she slaughtered them all. Her hatred for the orcs fueled the onslaught.
She grabbed an infant girl, the only one she could find. She thought if she could save one she it would matter to her. She couldn't save them all, but this one she could.
Sneaking out the same hole she made, took to climbing down the cliff side, fearing the child would alert the guards. A perilous task in the dark of night. However worth the effort she said all the time to the bottom.
They Traveled for days away from the warcamp, lost and with no direction. Exhausted and starving she saw a monastery carved into the mountain side. Hearing bells she pressed on. Reaching the door Kerii collapsed at a monks feet, ask him to take the child before fainting.
Woken she found herself robed and cleaned in a bed. Thankful for the monastery for the rescuing she asked two favors. Look after the girl, and teach herself about the world.
She vowed that day she will free every female orc and half orc from the wartribes. She would save everyone one she could or free them from this life.
Robed to hide her appearance she travels the world looking for why this atrocity is happening and the means to end these corrupt wartribes.
Here’s the backstory to my Human Gray Portrait Warlock (See The Compendium of Forgotten Secrets)
Sebastian Ravenbow was born into a world where his life was anything but beautiful. He was born a bastard to Reginald Ravenbow, the patriarch of the noble family of Ravenbow. He possessed the nobility of his father and the absolute, unquestionable beauty of his peasant mother. The Ravenbows are a harsh family and Sebastian was an embarrassment to his father and a spawn of a fiend to his stepmother. His childhood was spent learning how to maneuver the court and his cold familial relations.
In his life of monochrome Sebastian had two sources of joy. First, he had his love, a beautiful girl named Angela, a noble girl of a lesser lineage. Sebastian would spend hours everyday with her and her kindness and almost mad joy served as a perfect counterbalance to his more cynical but practical view of the world. His other love eclipsed if not surpassed his first, his love of art was all consuming. He spent many a sleepless night in front of a canvass, brush creating scenes of beauty, death, cold, heat, nobility, peasantry. Everywhere he looked he saw things in a way no one else seemed to understand and he shared his visions of the world through his art. His talent was quickly noticed and put to use by the practical Ravenbow family.
As he neared his 17th year his life had begun to take a turn for the better as he his art progressed and he prepared to propose to Angela. However, as soon as Sebastian let down his guard, the events that would define him for the rest of his mortal life struck. One day, when he was painting a landscape of the manors gardens, Sebastian simply tripped; this small mistake caused his back to slam into a rock on the ground, his spine shattered. Sebastian was rushed to the maester of the manor but, although his life was saved, his legs were not.
Now confined to his bed Sebastian became more bitter than ever. He confined himself to his room and asked for a mirror. He spent the next year creating portrait after portrait of his own face. His relationship with Angela deteriorated as he spent less and less time with her. A few days after his 18th birthday, a day he spent alone finishing yet another perfect portrait of his face, Angela visited Sebastian. She came to that she had fallen in love with another man in the absence of Sebastion’s attention and she was now engaged, she was to leave for his manor the next day. As Angela spoke, something in Sebastian broke, a deep part of him, some may call it his soul, others his will, others his karma, a deep part of him was untethered. Desperately this piece searched for somewhere to continue to exist as it faded. Sebastian felt his life leaving him, the room darkned around him, suddenly a surge of strength flowed through him, the missing part of him had found a residence. As Sebastian had the experience of seeing the world through the eyes of his painting, he found that he was forced to watch as Angela crumpled to the ground. Sebastion returned to his body to the sight of Angela’s unmoving form and the Portrait which he had named The Otherside of the Mirror staring ahead, a new unbelievably lifelike quality now deep in the canvass.
The tethering of Sebastian's soul to his Gray Portrait had two important effects. Firstly, his spine completely healed. The maester would call it a medical anomaly well clerics would proclaim it as a miracle. Sebastian knew better. As his spine healed the soul of Angela was pulled from her body to power his healing and to fuse the magic of the Gray Portrait. Shortly after his healing Sebastian left Ravenbow manor. His parents were only too happy to see him go. Now he travels the world, retaining youth and beauty through the power of his Gray Portrait, carrying the soul of his beloved with him wherever he goes, half believing he can find a way to set her free.
I tired to make a Orc Monk that was Lawful evil. (or I'll make a barbarian) Didn't even name the character till the end. But I appreciate feedback
Wow, that was dark... it does work well as a backstory though. I might even play the whole back story as a dark secret and not reveal it to the other characters. Like the experience was so traumatic she wont talk about it, but it clearly dictates the character's drives and actions.
I could see playing this character as a monk, but I think it really is a better set up for a barbarian. The character is clearly a natural fighter and is driven by her rage. Assuming this is for 5e, I might take the path of the berserker when the character gets to third level, like the anger that kept her alive in the arena is now focused into the frenzy.
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I tired to make a Orc Monk that was Lawful evil. (or I'll make a barbarian) Didn't even name the character till the end. But I appreciate feedback
Wow, that was dark... it does work well as a backstory though. I might even play the whole back story as a dark secret and not reveal it to the other characters. Like the experience was so traumatic she wont talk about it, but it clearly dictates the character's drives and actions.
I could see playing this character as a monk, but I think it really is a better set up for a barbarian. The character is clearly a natural fighter and is driven by her rage. Assuming this is for 5e, I might take the path of the berserker when the character gets to third level, like the anger that kept her alive in the arena is now focused into the frenzy.
Thanks I love making flawed characters rather than the straight "adventure for fun" character. I feel it give me more to work with, direction of character and roleplay more genuinely (well for me anyway). With that backstory I didn't really delve deep into her personality (I wrote it in a sudden inspired rush) but she wouldn't have to be a emo "oh no my life was terrible", more she believes shes is the only one that can help them in her mind. Creating the drive to get better, look for information, fight the morals of good that says shes slaughtering people and allows the character to grow. To quote "Nobody believes they are the villain, they all think they are the hero".
Here is a character I made recently as a level one. Arkon Magnussen is a human fighter with the whole world ahead of him. The place of origin can change as necessary based on campaign setting. Would appreciate any feedback.
Not sure how to insert a pic here but my avatar is what I have found that best matches what was in my head.
I grew up the son of an artisan woodworker in Neverwinter. My father was the preferred maker of fine furniture for many of the local nobles due to his craftsmanship. I apprenticed under my father as small child until I was skilled enough to become his lead woodcarver after many years learning. Once per year, I was responsible to travel into the forests with a local ranger and meet the druids there to show us which trees our woodcutters were allowed to harvest. In return, we would plant three times as many saplings to replenish the forest. The druids would provide safe passing and protection within the forest for our woodcutting crew. My father always sent a chest along with me to give the druids. He would craft special wood items for them from the previous year’s lumber. Elaborate staffs, wood carved talismans, and other strange wood items. Never was anyone allowed to asssit him with creating these items, and I never got a good explanation as to why.
Eventually, as a young man, I grew bored and restless. Along with my best friend Sten, we ended up enlisting in the military seeking more excitement than sawdust and splinters. My father, although disappointed in my choice, used his connections to get us stationed where there was good leadership. The rest, he said, was up to me.
I rose to the rank of sergeant at a younger age than most, earning the respect of my men due to my capabilities. I also won some favor with my superiors and was given chances to prove myself. During a routine scouting excursion, my men were ambushed by some hill giants and orcs. They were led by ‘something’ else. Most of my men died when I chose to make a stand rather than order an organized retreat. Sten was also killed by one of the giants in a brutal fashion. Ever since I have a hatred for giants and am looking forward to the day when I can exact some retribution.
I was hailed as a brave hero for beating back the enemy long enough for reinforcements to arrive and force the enemy back into hiding. I felt responsible for losing so many men that followed my orders. Sten’s death will haunt me til my dying breath. I left the service when my term was up and went back home to work again with my aging father. I soon found myself bored once again. I needed something more to feel alive. I was not going to grow old in this town doing the same thing year after year. Even the guilt of him telling me he has no other heir to hand the business to could make me stay.
One day I packed my bags, said my goodbyes and hopped on a ship. I have found work as a leader of merchant guards, but primarily a skilled woodcarver within the local guild to make my living. Been on a few mercenary adventures over the past 2 years or so. I really enjoy the thrill of going into the unknown and meeting interesting people who want more than ‘settling down’. I have as of yet to find a group that I like working with on a permanent basis...yet.
A few personal tidbits:
I love to whittle animals during my downtime. It has a calming effect and allows me to do something with my creative skills. I have given a few to people I connect with. I try and make it personal and fit that person’s personality. If you receive one from me it’s a sign of friendship or respect.
I have a scar on my right shoulder. It looks like a burn, but different. It almost looks like a symbol but one that has faded into something obscured. Many people over the years have asked me about it, and each one has gotten a different story behind it. Do I not want the true story to be know? Or do I even know myself?
As far as religion goes, I am not a big fan of praying to a god whom I don’t believe listens (or even exists as far as I know). My family prayed to Mielikki, goddess of forests. I prayed to Tempus, god of war when in the military. More of an expected habit from others than anything else. I have no proof the gods exist, or that they even care about me. The blessings some say I have been a recipient of when things go my way...I just call it coincidence or dumb luck.
I'll show you a few of my character's backstories, tell me your opinion.
Name: Ragnarok
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Barbarian/Path of the Berserker
Weapons: Handaxes x2 and boomerang
Background: Haunted One
Backstory:
Born as half-orc, the shaman of the tribe foresaw that this child would bring one day the end to all tribes, kingdoms and even the world itself. He was thrown into the wild, were his primal rage keept him alive for many years. He grew a grudge against his people and any other race that shunned him, once he reached adulthood, in a fit of rage and revenge, Raganarok killed every single member of his clan and covered his whole body of their blood. After snapping out of his bloodlust, he was on his knees crying over the dead of many innocents souls. He wanted to end it, end his suffering....but someone stopped him from doing that. Who stopped Ragnarok of ending his life...was himself or in this case...his inner berserker, he then threw the knife away and was ready to leave...until he found a body....one that was still breathing. The shaman was the only survivor, he told Ragnarok about his destiny and how one day, his primal rage would grow beyond his control and stain the world in pure red as he bring its end. After hearing this, Ragnarok explored the world while searching for help, training his combat skills along the way, but....it was a futile effort. There was no way of stopping his primal rage of taking over him, so he imposed a self exile. In order of hurting others, he isolated himself in the mountains. Meditating day and night, hearing how his berseker self whispered poisonous words of how he will drown the weakling in their own blood and turn kings into slaves and their queens and princessess into whores and how he would execute every infant at the eyes of their parents in the most brutal way possible. Ragnarok soon realized, that no matter how hard he struggled. He would have to learn to deal with his rage in the heat of the battle while fighting evil creatures, so he ended up forming his own ¨clan¨, a mercenary organization under the name of ¨The Forsaken¨ that was formed of others that were treated like outcast by their own people. With his forsaken, Ragnarok plans to purge the world and putting his rage for good. But....will those battles be enough to peace the beast? Only time will tell
Name: Scorch
Race: Dragonborn
Class: Warlock/The Fiend
Background: Haunted One
Backstory:
Ember.....she never asked for the "gift" she got...she only wanted to be free and grow with a family that loved her. Her egg was found by a dark elf, he decided to take care of the child and teach her what he knew of the "forbidden" knowledge of sorcery. She was making great progress, making her instructor proud at every step of her training. But....one day, while she was gathering materials for her final test...something went..horribly wrong. She was ambushed by some bandits, before she could cast a spell, the bandits knocked her down. She was stripped of her clothes, tortured and thrown into a cell. Soon she was sold to a coliseum in order to give the people some "fun". Day after day, night after night, Ember was treated like an animal and forced to do "tricks" in order to please the crowd, and....when she tried to resist....she felt on her back the end of a whip covered in spines and coated in a burning poison. The crowd never noticed the scars, for they were covered and even if they did notice them....they would never care. She couldn't take it anymore, so one night after getting her wounds "treated" she made a pact with a "fiend" among her people. Deathwing, the representation of destruction, misery, and death. He promised her a way of being free and make her captors pay, but....there is always a price for this kind of power. She didn't care for that...at that moment, she would give everything in exchange of finally be away of those....those monsters. Deathwing gave her the power she needed, once freed from the chains she walked toward the coliseum. With fury and burning rage, Ember sealed the place in a dome and released a plague inside of it, seeing how everyone died slowly. Since that day till today, Ember finds hard to trust humans or even being near them. She used her enhnaced senses to locate her master, but...once she did...she felt like it was all a cruel nightmare. He was in the main square of the town all tied up in a pike, covered in bruises and with his tounge cut off. Over him was a sign with the words "monster" written with his blood. Ember...in a fit of rage destroyed the whole town and the bastards that didn't do a thing to stop that injustice. She heard in the wind "The price has been paid. A life taken, in order to release one" she realized in a shock, she killed innocents when it was Deathwing who brought death to her master. Broken and with no hope left, she tried to end it. She was stopped by the spirit of her master, he told her that ending her life would only give the demon what it wanted. So now, Ember struggle to gain control over the power of the demon.Scorch.....he never asked for the "gift" he got...he only wanted to be free and grow with a family that loved her. His egg was found by a dark elf, he decided to take care of the child and teach him what he knew of the "forbidden" knowledge of sorcery. He was making great progress, making his instructor proud at every step of his training. But....one day, while Scorch was gathering materials for his final test...something went..horribly wrong. He was ambushed by some bandits, before Scorch could cast a spell, the bandits knocked him down. He was stripped of his clothes, tortured and thrown into a cell. Soon he was sold to a coliseum in order to give the people some "fun". Day after day, night after night, Scorch was treated like an animal and forced to do "tricks" in order to please the crowd, and....when he tried to resist....he felt on his back the end of a whip covered in spines and coated in a burning poison. The crowd never noticed the scars, for they were covered and even if they did notice them....they would never care. He couldn't take it anymore, so one night after getting his wounds "treated" Scorch made a pact with a "fiend" among his people. Deathwing, the representation of destruction, misery, and death. He promised him a way of being free and make his captors pay, but....there is always a price for this kind of power. Scorch didn't care for that...at that moment, he would give everything in exchange of finally be away of those....those monsters. Deathwing gave him the power he needed, once freed from the chains, Scorch walked out of the coliseum. With fury and burning rage, Scorch sealed the place in a dome and released a plague inside of it, seeing how everyone died slowly. Since that day till today, Scorch finds hard to trust humans or even being near them. He used her enhnaced senses to locate his master, but...once he did...he felt like it was all a cruel nightmare. He was in the main square of the town all tied up in a pike, covered in bruises and with his tounge cut off. Over him was a sign with the words "monster" written with his blood. Scorch...in a fit of rage destroyed the whole town and the bastards that didn't do a thing to stop that injustice. He heard in the wind "The price has been paid. A life taken, in order to release one" Scorch realized in a shock, he killed innocents when it was Deathwing who brought death to his master. Broken and with no hope left, he tried to end it. Scorch was stopped by the spirit of his master, he told him that ending his life would only give the demon what it wanted. So now, Scorch struggle to gain control over the power of the demon.
And finally, my latest creation. My Ranger/Gloom Stalker Yuan-ti Pureblood, Pythor.
Background: Urban Bounty Hunter
Backstory:
Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. He always played with his preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once he reached 18, he was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of his passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything he could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. He learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. He learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed him, offered him two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of his fallen brothers. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grinn he set the perfect trap for his people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, he now knew the cruelty of his people and how the world would be safe from them. Once he bathed in the blood of the elders, his scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to him, with this new knowledge he hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon he was the "prey", his people locked him away in a crypt where he would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop him. He crawled his way out, just to find ruins of his home. "Fools" he thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled he left, knowing that he will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest hunter. But....his plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" He heard a roaring voice behind him, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all his bones and slowly poured over him his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain he brought to his people as the venom began to change his form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving him to see his new face. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full snake, leaving also a few scars over his face. Now he must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" he caused.Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. She always played with her preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once she reached 18, Pythor was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of her passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything he could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. She learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. She learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed Pythor, offered her two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of her fallen brothers. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grinn she set the perfect trap for her people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, she now knew the cruelty of her people and how the world would be safe from them. Once she bathed in the blood of the elders, her scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to her, with this new knowledge Pythor hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon she was the "prey", her people locked Pythor away in a crypt where she would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop her. She crawled her way out, just to find ruins of her home. "Fools" she thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled she left, knowing that she will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest huntress But....her plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" He heard a roaring voice behind her, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all her bones and slowly poured over her his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain she brought to the anacondrais as the venom began to change her form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving her to see her "new" self. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full humanoid snake, leaving also a few scars over her face. Now she must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" she caused.Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. She always played with his preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once she reached 18, Pythor was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of his passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything she could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. She learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. Pythor learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed Pythor, offered her two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of her fallen brothers and sisters. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grin she set the perfect trap for his people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, she now knew the cruelty of her people and how the world would be safe from them. Once she bathed in the blood of the elders, her scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to her, with this new knowledge Pythor hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon she was the "prey", her people locked Pythor away in a crypt where she would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop Pythor. She crawled her way out, just to find ruins of her home. "Fools" she thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled she left, knowing that she will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest huntress. But....her plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" She heard a roaring voice behind her, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all her bones and slowly poured over her his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain she brought to the anacondrais as the venom began to change her form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving her to see her "new" self. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full humanoid snake, leaving also a few scars over her face. Now she must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" she caused.
Please, i would really like to know the opinions you all have for these backstories
How can i get something out of my cart?
I participated in a D&D group for the first time two weeks ago. The group's DM suggested that I should make a new character for his campaign. So, I decided to create a second character in my account because of that.
General facts:
Name: Malcer Blackwind
Race: Male Variant Human (with Draconic bloodline)
Class: Sorcerer Lv. 1
Physical characteristics:
36 years old, 5'8'', 180 lb, medium-sized, fairly tanned skin, persian blue eyes, short black hair, with an undercut and a somewhat trimmed beard. Has a visible neck tattoo representing Bahamut triumphing over Takhsis; a tribute to his Draconic lineage. Left side of his face slightly scarred from an incident that happened when he was a child. Eyes changing constantly from blue to golden yellow when focused enough. Of Solamnian ethnicity (with him being the only fairly tanned individual in his native land). Wears a protective hood to conceal his true identity and powers, along with a black tunic and a pair of black bridges.
Background:
Sage background
Studying the most obscure scrolls and manuscripts that Krynn has left in its wake from eon to eon, under the great guise of his mentor Astinus of Palanthas (head librarian of the Library of Palanthas), and honing his craftsmanship and his skills in the Tower of High Sorcery, Malcer Blackwind has used this knowledge to a great advantage during his years in Solamnia as a researcher and as a sorcerer, a nation that is located in the northwestern region of Ansalon.
Born in Kalaman, his childhood was filled with an insatiable appetite to learn more and more about Krynn, whether if it’s the ruined vestiges left behind, the incredible archaeological marvels of the Old City of Palanthas, the rampant neighborhoods surrounding him or the seemingly infinite knowledge gathered and amassed over the last two-hundred years in the Library of Palanthas. His family has contributed immensely in that aspect; his father was a well-renowned historian in Ansalon (second to Astinus himself) and his mother belonged to a guild of wizards at the University of Kalaman, seeking only to do justice and guide the country to better ages...
Because of their constant absence, at the age of six years old, Malcer tried to create his first spell of colorful aurorae, but ended severely when the phosphorus used scorched near the fireplace of his family’s mansion, unbeknownst to him at the time. It burned the left side of his face, but not enough to char it without recognition.
What is also unbeknownst to him is his bloodline. His parents have always insisted on his Solamnian ethnicity. But, his golden scales throughout his body have remained a huge mystery to him. Reassured, but unrestful about his true origins, Malcer always had that tingling, existential doubt that he was half-Draconic. How though? How is it possible that the Dragonborn have lived within the nations of Krynn?
This was entirely the motivation behind his choices to delve deeper into the Draconic bloodlines over the years (if they were any in the continents and cities of Krynn) and to choose sorcery as his future calling.
Now, he embarks on a quest to learn more about this Draconic enigma residing within him…
And what about the text left behind by Astinus? What can only happen if it falls into the wrong hands, of those who chose Tiamat...
If anyone has thoughts or suggestions, be more than welcome to reply. Thanks!
Here is my backstory for my Hexblade warlock, Eladrin elf. Hope you guys enjoy and can offer some constructive criticism! Please tell me if you enjoy it!
Born into the magic of the Eladrins I grew up in a loving family with two brothers and a sister. Being born in the Feywild I am no stranger to things of odd nature. Our city of Alatrast would flicker between the material plane and the Feywild quite often. Because of this, we began to grow accustomed to the existence of humans and other things indigenous to the material plane. As I was training my magic I ventured outside the city walls just before it flickered out from the Material Plane. I cried for the first time that night, trapped inside a Plane in which I knew the things that happened here, but never had stayed for a full day outside the walls. I waited. A day went by and I waited again. For twelve days and twelve nights, I waited hoping that Alatrast would come back, its torch-lit streets welcoming back home. But it never did. So, my heart filled with the essence of homesickness I wandered through the forest in which Alatrast would appear. I traveled through the brush and vines, getting stuck multiple times along the way. After hours of walking I stopped by a river, taking a drink I stared into the clear water. What stared back appalled me. I was disheveled, my clothes were torn and tattered from the thorns and my hair was matted. Spats of mud were strewn in it. I took a bath in that river, dipping my head multiple times underneath, each time holding my breath a little while longer. When I meditated that night I had a vision. I was in the same forest but something was different. I felt like I was being watched. As I looked around I saw a blade. Around me were eye-like shapes on the trees, flicking to me and the sword as if to try to lure me to the sword which glowed in the moonlight. As I approached the sword I heard a voice, whispering to me, with a dull low tone that made me feel safe and protected. It said, "You wish to go back? I can help you. Wield this power that will help you find your way back and I shall guide you." The light got brighter as I picked up the sword, it growing more fierce and blinding as I reached for it before I woke. A mark etched into my hand and a blade in the other. I smiled excitedly to find my way back to the place I once called home. Since then I have been traveling, marking things in a journal I hope to one day show my younger siblings. Recordings of the adventures I've had and the people I have met. Along the way, I stayed in a temple. Dedicated to the Old Gods of warlocks. The Fiend, the Hexblade, the Archfey, and the Celestial. They taught me the way of the blade. To curse my opponents and manifest the power I had inside of me, through the weapons I wield. I learned to control it and even learned a way to summon my now trusty traveling companion PuttPut. She is a gentle black pseudodragon. She is very shy in public places but she loves to roam free like a common dog or mastiff. At night she curls up in my meditating lap and positions herself so that no one may disturb me. She is a great companion if only more people saw her that way.
My backstory of Rock Gnome Wizard
My Rock Gnome background has been within my family for generations. They worked in large underground caves that dwelled deep into the Earth's Crust, as did my Grandparents. My siblings further continue this tradition of mining along the mountainside, but I have strayed away from tradition in search of knowledge.
Living within the mountains, there's no knowledge to be found. Nothing except how to deepen the mines. Once they had known about my emotions, my fellow Rock Gnomes were exceptionally disappointed in me. Whilst I do obey laws and have a joyous personality, after realising that there was nothing bright in my future I had to go against my own morals, steal gems to pay my fees, run away and travel around the world, all in search of knowledge.
I travelled to the largest library in the world. Housed within the High Elf capital. I was denied entry, until I had passed some trials. Understanding my commitment towards Wizardry, the High Elf teacher took me in as an apprentice. I was made to wield a wand, and taught to hit a dummy using a spell called, "magic missiles". The easiest spell, according to the Wizardess, learnt by almost every High Elf... My family would've been in awe.
There was another foreign race at the school, a Tiefling named Therai. Being already proficient in fire magic, he seeked to increase his knowledge but the elves had a hard time teaching him arcane spells.
Lacking the funding for both students, we were to compete for the apprenticeship.
Everybody could tell that Therai wasn't as intrigued by all this as I was. He relied on his already proficient past, but the magic schools are entirely different. He never seemed to interact with others, always distant. The elves were in favour of taking me under their wing and removing Therai, it was a bad idea to announce this.
Everyone had woken in the night, an arcane elemental was constantly exploding with energy as if to sound an alarm. The entire library was up in flames. Being surrounded by water, the only way the place could have caught fire would have been from the inside. Therai was nowhere to be seen.
Everybody was trapped. Arcane magic had no use to extinguish fires. Adrenaline pumping, I traced a frost rune along the floor, held out my hands, and my mind went blank.
I awoke on the floor, my teacher next to me, scarred from her attempts to save her students. There were loud cheers as I moved, but my teacher was unresponsive. The cheers died down, and everybody focused their attention to the Wizardess, who had almost no life left in her. With her last few breaths, she said, "Brocco... You saved us all. You saved the millennia of knowledge held within this academy." She motions to her arcane focus, "Take it, Brocco. This will be enough to channel any arcane spell you learn. You are gifted, Brocco, your adrenaline drives your power. You may not know your full potential until you are faced with great danger. You'll be a great Wizard Brocco, you must continue to learn, and you'll vastly surpass us all. With her last breath, she smiles, as if to say thanks, and lay motionless on the floor.
I swear, I will avenge you.
Word of my great deed had been spread all over the land, and I continued my search for knowledge as promised, until one day I received a letter from my family. They wanted me to return.
I returned home and my peers gathered all the precious rocks they have mined, the materials needed to craft a great weapon. With the help of my family and their mining proficiency, I made my way to the Dwarven capital city. Due to our generations of established mining and gold trade, I was able to acquire labour from their finest blacksmith, who had in return, crafted a fine, platinum quarterstaff. With the rest of the precious minerals, the rod had been diamond encrusted in a spiral pattern reinforced by gold along the edges. At the tip, a large radiant cut ruby to siphon my magic from. Whom he had entitled, "Dreamwatcher".
This is the first character I've made who I'll actually get to play. There aren't a ton of details or specifics yet because the campaign doesn't start until summer, so I haven't talked with the dm yet about the world. Also, my writing is complete ****, so I'm just going to put things down.
Hummingbirds in the Night, Female Tabaxi Fighter (Arcane Archer) Tabaxi names are inspired by Aztec god names, so that's why it's weird. HitN just lets people shorten it however they want rather than say the whole thing every time.
this first one is just a description of appearance and brief biology lesson
Like most tabaxi she is tall, standing at 6'7". Seeing as she is a cheetah tabaxi, she is also thin and relatively light at about 200 lbs. I've made the decision for my dm that tabaxi in this world are digitigrade, meaning they stand on their toes like the dogs and cats of out world (the other option would be plantigrade, what we are). Her eyes are green, and because I'm a sucky writer I'll just go generic and call them emerald. Her big defining feature is her melanism. Her spots and tear marks are still visible, but just barely. For those who don't know what melanin is, it's the pigment in skin and hair that gives color. Melanistic animals have much darker fur/skin, kind of a reverse albinism. Think of black panthers. There are just melanistic cougars (Africa and Asia) or jaguars (Americas). Her spots and tear marks are still visible, but just barely.
Backstory, poorly authored and everything. hooray
Hummingbird in the Night grew up in the ________ tribe (________ because tabaxi tribe names are often based off of nearby terrain, I'll let my dm do the world building). From the age of 13 she was taught how to use the bow and helped with hunts. For the most part this was her life. Hunt, talk and play with others in the tribe, trade with other tribes. Comfortable, but largely unexciting. As a solution for her boredom, she would frequently go out and explore the area between hunts. Nothing too dangerous ever happened, and time continued to pass.
When she was 32 a group of six elves showed up at her tribe. They were there as a research group from a college in some elvish city or other. The reason they had stopped by the tribe was to ask if they could hire someone to act as a guide through the jungle and surrounding areas. Tabaxi have no interest in money, but they had been going though a time of plenty and were happy to allow someone to accompany them. Hummingbird was suggested because of her frequent forays, and she accepted with glee. The Cat Lord had blessed her with curiosity, and the chance to go with researchers sounded perfect to her.
For the next half year, Hummingbird traveled with them. The group consisted of two zoologists, two botanists, a translator/student (common is not common in this area of the world), and an armed escort. As they journeyed, Hummingbird learned from them about both their fields and the rest of the world. She managed to get a decent understanding of both common and Elvish, and relished in hearing the stories being told in their native languages. Her favorite stories were from Feron Erynton, the guard who was accompanying them. Feron was an arcane archer, one of the elite fighters of the Elvish world. Noticing both her adeptness with the bow and learning new things, Feron offered to teach her how to be an arcane archer as well. Although six months was no enough for her to completely learn, or even begin being able to use magic, it was enough to instill the knowledge necessary for her to learn.
Their expedition time eventually, and it was time for the elves to head back to society. Knowing that her tribe had no need for another hunter, Hummingbird caught a ride on their ship. She was determined to see and learn about as much of the world as she could. After saying goodbye to her friends of the past six months, she got a job guarding a caravan and set off. She lived this way for the next year, just traveling where she could and taking in everything the entire way. Now she's sitting in an inn, waiting for the next chance for adventure to present itself...
Wilsariphon Farwood, a Half-Elf Sorcerer, wasn't always this way. In his earlier years, he lied about holding great power and earned large sums of money for this. However, when his ancestors learned of this, they cursed him with strange powers he had no idea how to use.... along with hideous scarring.
Looking for some constructive criticism. I'm fairly knew to D&D so I'm still getting aquainted with much of the lore. I wrote the character up a few weeks ago with a vague idea in my head and now I've finally committed to putting it down in writing. It's a rough draft that needs some polish, but please let me know what you think.
Jys'arra Kil'rahel Level 1 Drow Cleric (Light)
Jys'arra is what the Drow refer to as a Szarkai, Ghost Spiders. Although extremely rare and a subject of mystery, they could easily pass as normal elves, making them ideal spies for the drow noble houses, able to operate freely in the surface world. She was trained from a very young age in espionage and sabotage and readied for a life undercover on the surface.
On her 16th nameday Jys'arra, along with a fellow Drow spy named Val'dorl De’afin, was sent to the city of Waterdeep with instruction to infiltrate the Promenade of the Dark Maiden and destroy the Faith of Eilistraee. Over decades she worked to subvert and discredit the Faith while joining their ranks masquerading as a lowborn Wood Elf come to give what aid she may.
Over years she proved herself willing and able to devote herself to the Faith through the mundane task of caring for the temple. The High Elf Paelias Holimion took Jys'arra as his student and put her onto the path to becoming a Cleric of Eilistraee. Through much study and his teachings Jys'arra learned the tragedy of the Drow. She slowly found herself questioning her loyalty and her mission. This place and all the collected people were so different than the world she came from. Gone was the constant political maneuvering and struggle for supremacy over your kin. It was replaced with collaboration, understanding, and empathy. All these were foreign to Jys'arra, but the longer she was surrounded by them the more she felt pulled towards the light.
After much thought and, somewhat surprisingly to her, prayer to the Dark Maiden, Jys'arra decided she would reveal who and what she was to Paelias. She was certain it would mean the end of her time in The Promenade and that Paelias would no longer be her mentor and friend, but she could no longer bear the burden of her dishonesty. After one last prayer on the night of her planned reveal, Jys'arra was confronted by Val'dorl, furious at her betrayal of her people and rejection of Lolth.
He drew two blades and came at her in a blinding rage. Unarmed, she shrank backwards to avoid the attack, stumbling over a pedestal and spilling several Holy symbols. Val'dorl slashed frantically and found purchase, opening a large slice upon Jys'arra’s back. Blinded by the pain she reached out for something, anything she could use to fend off her would be killer. Her hands clawed across the floor until she felt something and grabbed hold of it while rising to her feet and turning to meet Val'dorl and thrusting forward with her hand.
Val'dorl let loose a hideous scream. Jys'arra’s hand shone like the sun, but it was not alone. Next to her stood the goddess Eilistraee, hand outstretched to meet Val'dorl. The light burned at his flesh, and symbol of the crescent moon that Jys'arra had grabbed in her haste was etched into his skin. Val'dorl pried the burning hands from his face and ran from the temple. The light faded from Jys'arra’s hand and she began to fall, but felt the embrace of Eilistraee as the goddess caught and lowered her gently to the ground. Before falling into unconsciousness Jys'arra saw Eilistraee smile at her and whisper, “My child. I heard you calling through the darkness to the light.”
Lightning Strike - A rebranded Fire Bolt for Wizards & Sorcerers.
Spirit Bomb - A holy fireball for Clerics, Paladins, & Divine Soul Sorcerers!
Sword Dancer - A Cleric subclass specifically for the Drow goddess Eilistraee.
Quicksilver & The Scarlet Witch - A pair of magical firearms for your Gunslinger or Artificer.
(Sorry for no spoiler tag as posting from phone.)
To preface this the following character is a backup character to my main one. He is a Half-elf Male Blood Hunter from the Order of the Lycan. I have not played him as of yet, but what I can say is a lot of his background is from me rolling dice on tables from Xanathar's Guide To Everything to get a random outcome. I think I did well rolling random there and rolling random on background stuff from the player handbook. The following is the back story incorporating that. Enjoy.
Background Story: Walnan's live started out not in a place most would think nobles would start. As the story goes his mother. a half-elf woman of noted beauty, was not one to sit idle when pregnant and would often take walks with his reluctant father, also a half elf, in the woods of their estate. His father begrudgingly let his wife do this so long as he went with her. It was during one such walk that a fierce storm quickly built up over head out of no where and forced them to the nearby cave. That night was when his mother had given birth to Walnan with help from his father while they were stuck in the cave due to the storm.
Due to this story many believe that night is what made Walnan stand out among his two other siblings as he would often be found outdoors and dreaming of wild adventures. He could often be found coming home after playing with several of the children of his age in the city all dirty and clothes a mess at the horror of the staff and his father. His mother on the other hand would encourage his adventuring and free spirit as much as she could when his father was not around.
That would not last though as it was after the birth of his younger sister, Alyria, that his parents had a fight with each other over matters that young Walnan did not understand that led them to splitting up. His mother left with Alyria shortly after the fight leaving him and his eldest brother, Edmond, to be raised by their aristocratic father. After they split, Walnan's days of adventure and freedom came to an end as it was replaced with near constant study and only brief time for the friends he had once played with.
Many years passed for young Walnan, who was now 19, as he lived the life his overbearing father set for him. Hating much of the noble life, Walnan looked for any excuse to get away from it. It was one such night that he learned that he was to be betrothed to some girl of another noble family that Walnan finally said enough was enough. Taking what he could he found captain that docks willing to give him passage out of the city and to the Kingdom of the Dragon territory.
Finding himself on the outskirts of the capital of the kingdom poor from paying the ship captain, Walnan dropped his family name and taking the surname Fenwen. Over the next few years, Walnan would have a hard life living in the streets and ended up doing things he would never had done when he was still a son of a noble. He found that his good looks would often get him further then his ability to sneak and steal as such often selling his body instead.
Being led one night to what he thought would be an abandoned temple to a lesser known Elven god for what had been agreed on with a noble man as a night of entertainment turned into a near death experience and change in the young half elf's life. The man who hired him turned out to be a werewolf that turned on him early into the evening. The last thing he saw as he fought back and ran was a number of Blood Hunters stormed the temple, having been following them unseen up to that point, and him falling into darkness as he fell bleeding against a wall from the wounds the werewolf gave him. What happened in his near death state he does not talk about, but there was a pact made between him and the god Donn making him the gods instrument on the material plane.
What followed as Walnan came to in the Blood Hunter's safe house, was a turning point in the half elf boys life as he began to dedicate his life to god Donn and to the eradication of creatures like the werewolf who almost killed him. Years later after a lot of training, he is now on the outskirts of the kingdom following rumors of creatures harming the populous. Where ever the god Donn needs him to go he will follow and he will protect those in need.
My characters name is Brakeson, king of Meros. He was born king but is called a tyrant by his people. He is a level 20 fighter but has magic gifted to him by mages. He has the blood of a god that nobody knows the name of, but he thinks that he is a god himself(insane). After discovering a magic wand, he uses it to make an infinite amount of clones of himself(to be immortal), and stores them in demiplanes. He wields modified vorpal blades, a armored cloak and a wand of necromancy. His brother constantly sends assassins to kill him but sometimes just makes him lose a clone of himself.
Kimo Corsain, the Warlock Hexblade
Kimo was abandoned at a young age. In a port city, he was found by a blue dragonborn merchant ship captain. Captain Valen Corsain of the merchant vessel the Bronze Star, adopted Kimo and raised him aboard the ship. There Kimo learned to be a sailor while the crew gave him a basic education.
His pseudo-father Valen taught him how to navigate. Molly, a female elf, taught him to read, write, and speak in both Common and Elven. Dimble, the male gnome chef, trained him in the ships galley to prepare and cook many dishes. Korvek, the male half-orc first mate, worked him to the bone teaching him the ins and outs of the ship. Cass, a female half-elf, taught him manners and how to be charismatic. Finally, Lucief, a male tiefling, taught him the basics of swordsmanship.
Years later Kimo asked his pseudo-father why he had taken him in. Valen responded, “Long ago, I was a pirate. I stole and killed in the name of greed. I spent many days drinking and partying until I was penniless. No one I knew would help me as a wasted away. A random stranger came to my aid and helped me put my life back together. They told me that in the future I would have ‘pay forward’ the same kindness. When I took you in it was meant to repay that kindness and make up for the mistakes I made in my life. But now, I see you as my true son. I hope that in your future you can offer the same kindness to others in need.” Kimo nodded to his father, “I promise.”
One day, the ship was making a normal shipping run to the East. The crew were caught off guard by a horrible storm. The ship was destroyed and Kimo was left floating on a piece of driftwood. Certain he was going to die, he was surprise to hear a sultry female voice. Before him a female figure made of lavender light asked, “Do you wish to live?” Kimo had lost his entire adoptive family, but he remembered all the people who raised him and the promise he made to his adoptive father. He agreed, and the female voice responded, “Then accept my gift and survive!” He felt a burning sensation in his arm that caused him to go unconscious.
When Kimo next awoke, he was on a beach. A purple gem was imbedded in his left arm with lavender tattoos surrounding it. He was able to summon magic through this crystal. Kimo set off with these new-found abilities to keep the promise he made. Kimo wish to show the same kindness he was shown as a child, but he is still ignorant to the true nature of the world. His youth and naivety may cause him to be victim to the evils of others.
My character is a Gnomish Cleric of Garl Glittergold. I wrote his backstory as a sermon when he was 1st level.
The Way of Improvement
Or
How I Became a Glitterbright
A Testimonial Sermon by Bren Krelin for the Motivation and Betterment of the Gnomish Peoples
Brothers and Sisters,
Many of you are suffering hard times. You are stuck in a rut. Your plans have not worked out and you don’t know where to turn next. You do the same thing day in and day out and now despair for what else to do.
I would like to tell you that are not alone. I too have felt this despair. Growing up I knew my path. I dreamed of being a great wizard and casting great spells and truly wielding power. I sought out great wizards to teach me to be one of them, but before I even had a chance to begin I was told that I was not good enough. I was thrown out of their presence and returned to my town.
I didn’t know what to do. I took a position repairing clockwork items in a blacksmiths shop which kept me fed and occupied, but I was miserable. Soon I also took a position at the bar of the local tavern every night of the week, which kept me in a stupor, but I could stand myself.
Every day I expected to find my path. Every day I thought, I will find something to do with myself. Every day I just knew that the next day would be the day that I would be able to move on and find some new endeavor to improve my lot in life, and every day… I felt worse and worse.
My despair deepened. The tavern mead no longer kept the misery at bay. I could not stand myself for one more moment. I wandered out of the tavern and out of town. There was a mountain about an hour’s walk out of town, a small one, but tall enough for my purposes.
I had drunk most of the night away and the morning too. It was the hazy orange of dawn by the time I got to the path up to the mines near the top of the mountain. I was tired but trudged my way up, intent on getting high enough to throw my self off the path and end my pain.
I stared at my feet as I walked upward, and about halfway up I kicked something small, that rolled away. I walked over to where it stopped and picked it up. I appeared to be a small gold nugget. I would have been overjoyed if I had any interest in money, but gnomes set on killing themselves have little use for wealth. Despite this I gazed at it, transfixed. I tried to continue walking, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.
I had a thought, or perhaps I heard a voice that said, “Take this to the shrine of Garl Glittergold in Gogton. Ask for the blessing of the Glitterbright there.”
I paused. My resolve to end my existence wavering. My thoughts were still clouded by a whole nights worth of mead, but in spite of this, or perhaps because of it I headed back down the mountain and to town.
I had never been one for religion. My parents told me stories of the gods and their exploits. They told me of Garl collapsing the caverns of Kurtulmak and I laughed at the silly god of the Kobolds, but I had always been focused on magic.
I soon found my feet had carried me to Garl’s Shrine. It was daylight now, but still early. An old Glitterbright in his robes sat at the shrine, smoking a pipe, seemly lost in thought. I walked up to him and he looked me over. He wrinkled his nose at me trying not to be rude and reel at the smell of alcohol and sweat that emanated from me. I was dirty too from my walk up the mountain. After some time he asked, “Can I help you with something?”
I lifted my hand and showed him the gold nugget. He looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed out loud. Then he said seemingly to no one, “Garl you old trickster, I thought you were sending me a cleric,” then he looked at me and asked, “Are you a cleric?”
I shook my head no. “Garl is a prankster,” he said. “I prayed for a new cleric to train and he sent me a drunk.”
I stood there confused for a moment. Then one word popped into my head: “Magic” I said out loud.
The old Glitterbright looked up and said “what?”
“Magic” I said again. “I want to be able to do magic.”
“I can’t teach you that. My magic comes from old Garl. You could only use it if he gave it to you, and you don’t look like the type,” he said.
“I could try.”
“What magic? No offence, but your drunk. Go home”
“No, I’m supposed to be here, I was told to come.”
“By who?”
I hesitated, then said, “this chunk of gold.”
He looked puzzled again, “maybe you are him.”
He took me in and over the next month or so tested me. He prayed and made me pray he showed me texts of the exploits of Garl Glittergold and he pranked his way through the gods. He fed me and sobered me up. I spent my days reading holy texts and learning not just of Garl but of other gods as well. Finally one day he told me a word to say, and told me to think of my eyes as jewels. I said the word and he had me look in a mirror. My eyes looked like cut sapphires. It was just an illusion of course, but it was an illusion that I had made with the help of Garl Glittergold. That day he conducted a ceremony to initiate me as a Glitterbright. I had found a new purpose and way to grow. I was doing magic after all, just not the way I thought I would.
Brothers and Sisters Garl Glittergold does not leave his followers to do nothing. He means for you to grow, to learn to find your ways to whatever you are looking to find. Do not despair. Seek knowledge and growth, even when it seems that it will elude you forever.
Bren is now level 5 and picked up the Magical Initiate (Wizard) feat at 4th level and his first Wizard level at level 5.
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sunnyBarovia!Come for the old world charm, stay because you can't leave.
1WngdAngel
Having DM'd a lot of games, there are two things I want from a back story. I want to know who the character is and what drives them and I want a few hooks that I can potentially use in the adventure. A goddess showing up to save a character is a pretty good hook that a DM might be able to use. The betrayal of her cause is another. The concept of the spy trained from a young age is a good trope, but maybe expand on it a little which may give further motivation to defect. She sees good in the people she is infiltrating which is half the defection story, but what was different in the Underdark that set her up for it. What happened there that set her up to have her loyalty tested but not Val'dorl De’afin?
Hope that helps.
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sunnyBarovia!Come for the old world charm, stay because you can't leave.
I tired to make a Orc Monk that was Lawful evil. (or I'll make a barbarian)
Didn't even name the character till the end. But I appreciate feedback
An Red skinned half orc,
Thrown away from the Orc clutch because of her size and inability to be used as a breeding mate for the orc's growing warparty. Kerii was left to die as an afterthought to the orc culture discarded more as trash than person.
However an orc slaver took her in to use as his own. Raising the young red half orc to be a slave to his arena. Cleaning the mess, preparing the grounds and fetching the broken debris.
A slave to arena, abused and exploited treated like the lowest goblin. Holding no rank or even real orc name, a piece of property claimed not a member of the tribe. Kept away from tribe tradition.
When the arena wasn't used she was subject to the whims of her orc master. Forced to perform and dance to entertain tribal men, to please her masters control over her, or else be taught a lesson on the flesh by the jagged edge of a orc blade.
After one too many embarrassments to the Orc Slaver and fed up with the beatings not working she was thrown to the arena to be used as fodder and spat out. Life in the arena was destined to be short for these victims, more likely to die at a whim of the crowd as much as the blade of the combatant. A Death sentence either way no matter how long you survive.
Barely surviving the arena for weeks by speed and dirty tactics, she succumb to layers of scars on her whole body. Most predominately on her back by whips. Her life was spent as an amusing game for the attendees, watching as she was scrabbling around the arena while being flung back and forth to the cheers of the warband. Beaten and often left unconscious she became the personal whipping dog for the arena. Even on her two only victories she was beaten to be taught a lesson. Unable to be granted death because the amusement she gave them.
However through her sufferings she noticed that all of the arena crowds and fighters, not one was female, she had not seen another since her time before the slaver. Surely there should be more that just her. Especially when she see young orc men among the barking crowds.
On a cloudy night under the cover an orc raid rally she planned her escape, slipping her bonds using a shiv she found in a previous fight. Hoping that the festivities would mask her movement and sound.
She broke free.
Eager to flee this hole, she ran for the nearby tall grass plains. She was in the clear and made her freedom without even an alarm.
But she couldn't leave, she needed to know of the other girls, she wanted to know why they were missing.
Under all better judgement and her heart screaming she is free, she went back to the orc camp.
With low profile and avoiding all confrontation she skulked around the tents, unfamiliar to her as much as the surrounding plains. She figured the most guarded tents would probably have the girls, she just needed to find the largest and most guarded tents.
On a protected edge of the cliff a large tent seemed promising. Guarded by Orc sentries at the entrance she surmised this is the tent.
Cutting a whole in the side she opened the tent up to a unforgettable sight.
Bloated female orcs and half orcs, covered in boils and sweat. Swollen with pregnancy far beyond reason with the smell of blood and puss. Breathless and wanting to scream, she approached the swollen masses. Trying to find a end to which to communicate with. All while hearing the constant sound of flesh squishing and children crying.
Horrified she found a face, gripping both hands on either side. She knelt down asking what going on. No response. The females just stared blankly, like unliving beings. Drugged or bewitched to be breeding pods for the warband.
She tugged, pulled, pushed the as many as she could. None responded.
She realized there was something worse than death, she was staring it in the face.
She was the lucky one.
She grabbed the closest weapons she could find. The shiv she had wouldn't be able to do it, it wasn't sharp enough or long enough. A spear and orc sword, more like a crude machete. With trembling hands and tears in her eyes she began culling the women, made worse with none of them making a sound. No screams of pain, no reaction to the blades tearing the flesh. Dull masses of flesh just ending.
It took eons to her, with tears of sadness slowly becoming tears of rage and hate as she slaughtered them all. Her hatred for the orcs fueled the onslaught.
She grabbed an infant girl, the only one she could find. She thought if she could save one she it would matter to her. She couldn't save them all, but this one she could.
Sneaking out the same hole she made, took to climbing down the cliff side, fearing the child would alert the guards. A perilous task in the dark of night. However worth the effort she said all the time to the bottom.
They Traveled for days away from the warcamp, lost and with no direction. Exhausted and starving she saw a monastery carved into the mountain side. Hearing bells she pressed on. Reaching the door Kerii collapsed at a monks feet, ask him to take the child before fainting.
Woken she found herself robed and cleaned in a bed. Thankful for the monastery for the rescuing she asked two favors. Look after the girl, and teach herself about the world.
She vowed that day she will free every female orc and half orc from the wartribes. She would save everyone one she could or free them from this life.
Robed to hide her appearance she travels the world looking for why this atrocity is happening and the means to end these corrupt wartribes.
Here’s the backstory to my Human Gray Portrait Warlock (See The Compendium of Forgotten Secrets)
Sebastian Ravenbow was born into a world where his life was anything but beautiful. He was born a bastard to Reginald Ravenbow, the patriarch of the noble family of Ravenbow. He possessed the nobility of his father and the absolute, unquestionable beauty of his peasant mother. The Ravenbows are a harsh family and Sebastian was an embarrassment to his father and a spawn of a fiend to his stepmother. His childhood was spent learning how to maneuver the court and his cold familial relations.
In his life of monochrome Sebastian had two sources of joy. First, he had his love, a beautiful girl named Angela, a noble girl of a lesser lineage. Sebastian would spend hours everyday with her and her kindness and almost mad joy served as a perfect counterbalance to his more cynical but practical view of the world. His other love eclipsed if not surpassed his first, his love of art was all consuming. He spent many a sleepless night in front of a canvass, brush creating scenes of beauty, death, cold, heat, nobility, peasantry. Everywhere he looked he saw things in a way no one else seemed to understand and he shared his visions of the world through his art. His talent was quickly noticed and put to use by the practical Ravenbow family.
As he neared his 17th year his life had begun to take a turn for the better as he his art progressed and he prepared to propose to Angela. However, as soon as Sebastian let down his guard, the events that would define him for the rest of his mortal life struck. One day, when he was painting a landscape of the manors gardens, Sebastian simply tripped; this small mistake caused his back to slam into a rock on the ground, his spine shattered. Sebastian was rushed to the maester of the manor but, although his life was saved, his legs were not.
Now confined to his bed Sebastian became more bitter than ever. He confined himself to his room and asked for a mirror. He spent the next year creating portrait after portrait of his own face. His relationship with Angela deteriorated as he spent less and less time with her. A few days after his 18th birthday, a day he spent alone finishing yet another perfect portrait of his face, Angela visited Sebastian. She came to that she had fallen in love with another man in the absence of Sebastion’s attention and she was now engaged, she was to leave for his manor the next day. As Angela spoke, something in Sebastian broke, a deep part of him, some may call it his soul, others his will, others his karma, a deep part of him was untethered. Desperately this piece searched for somewhere to continue to exist as it faded. Sebastian felt his life leaving him, the room darkned around him, suddenly a surge of strength flowed through him, the missing part of him had found a residence. As Sebastian had the experience of seeing the world through the eyes of his painting, he found that he was forced to watch as Angela crumpled to the ground. Sebastion returned to his body to the sight of Angela’s unmoving form and the Portrait which he had named The Otherside of the Mirror staring ahead, a new unbelievably lifelike quality now deep in the canvass.
The tethering of Sebastian's soul to his Gray Portrait had two important effects. Firstly, his spine completely healed. The maester would call it a medical anomaly well clerics would proclaim it as a miracle. Sebastian knew better. As his spine healed the soul of Angela was pulled from her body to power his healing and to fuse the magic of the Gray Portrait. Shortly after his healing Sebastian left Ravenbow manor. His parents were only too happy to see him go. Now he travels the world, retaining youth and beauty through the power of his Gray Portrait, carrying the soul of his beloved with him wherever he goes, half believing he can find a way to set her free.
Wow, that was dark... it does work well as a backstory though. I might even play the whole back story as a dark secret and not reveal it to the other characters. Like the experience was so traumatic she wont talk about it, but it clearly dictates the character's drives and actions.
I could see playing this character as a monk, but I think it really is a better set up for a barbarian. The character is clearly a natural fighter and is driven by her rage. Assuming this is for 5e, I might take the path of the berserker when the character gets to third level, like the anger that kept her alive in the arena is now focused into the frenzy.
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sunnyBarovia!Come for the old world charm, stay because you can't leave.
Here is a character I made recently as a level one. Arkon Magnussen is a human fighter with the whole world ahead of him. The place of origin can change as necessary based on campaign setting. Would appreciate any feedback.
Not sure how to insert a pic here but my avatar is what I have found that best matches what was in my head.
I grew up the son of an artisan woodworker in Neverwinter. My father was the preferred maker of fine furniture for many of the local nobles due to his craftsmanship. I apprenticed under my father as small child until I was skilled enough to become his lead woodcarver after many years learning. Once per year, I was responsible to travel into the forests with a local ranger and meet the druids there to show us which trees our woodcutters were allowed to harvest. In return, we would plant three times as many saplings to replenish the forest. The druids would provide safe passing and protection within the forest for our woodcutting crew. My father always sent a chest along with me to give the druids. He would craft special wood items for them from the previous year’s lumber. Elaborate staffs, wood carved talismans, and other strange wood items. Never was anyone allowed to asssit him with creating these items, and I never got a good explanation as to why.
Eventually, as a young man, I grew bored and restless. Along with my best friend Sten, we ended up enlisting in the military seeking more excitement than sawdust and splinters. My father, although disappointed in my choice, used his connections to get us stationed where there was good leadership. The rest, he said, was up to me.
I rose to the rank of sergeant at a younger age than most, earning the respect of my men due to my capabilities. I also won some favor with my superiors and was given chances to prove myself. During a routine scouting excursion, my men were ambushed by some hill giants and orcs. They were led by ‘something’ else. Most of my men died when I chose to make a stand rather than order an organized retreat. Sten was also killed by one of the giants in a brutal fashion. Ever since I have a hatred for giants and am looking forward to the day when I can exact some retribution.
I was hailed as a brave hero for beating back the enemy long enough for reinforcements to arrive and force the enemy back into hiding. I felt responsible for losing so many men that followed my orders. Sten’s death will haunt me til my dying breath. I left the service when my term was up and went back home to work again with my aging father. I soon found myself bored once again. I needed something more to feel alive. I was not going to grow old in this town doing the same thing year after year. Even the guilt of him telling me he has no other heir to hand the business to could make me stay.
One day I packed my bags, said my goodbyes and hopped on a ship. I have found work as a leader of merchant guards, but primarily a skilled woodcarver within the local guild to make my living. Been on a few mercenary adventures over the past 2 years or so. I really enjoy the thrill of going into the unknown and meeting interesting people who want more than ‘settling down’. I have as of yet to find a group that I like working with on a permanent basis...yet.
A few personal tidbits:
I love to whittle animals during my downtime. It has a calming effect and allows me to do something with my creative skills. I have given a few to people I connect with. I try and make it personal and fit that person’s personality. If you receive one from me it’s a sign of friendship or respect.
I have a scar on my right shoulder. It looks like a burn, but different. It almost looks like a symbol but one that has faded into something obscured. Many people over the years have asked me about it, and each one has gotten a different story behind it. Do I not want the true story to be know? Or do I even know myself?
As far as religion goes, I am not a big fan of praying to a god whom I don’t believe listens (or even exists as far as I know). My family prayed to Mielikki, goddess of forests. I prayed to Tempus, god of war when in the military. More of an expected habit from others than anything else. I have no proof the gods exist, or that they even care about me. The blessings some say I have been a recipient of when things go my way...I just call it coincidence or dumb luck.
I'll show you a few of my character's backstories, tell me your opinion.
Name: Ragnarok
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Barbarian/Path of the Berserker
Weapons: Handaxes x2 and boomerang
Background: Haunted One
Backstory:
Born as half-orc, the shaman of the tribe foresaw that this child would bring one day the end to all tribes, kingdoms and even the world itself. He was thrown into the wild, were his primal rage keept him alive for many years. He grew a grudge against his people and any other race that shunned him, once he reached adulthood, in a fit of rage and revenge, Raganarok killed every single member of his clan and covered his whole body of their blood. After snapping out of his bloodlust, he was on his knees crying over the dead of many innocents souls. He wanted to end it, end his suffering....but someone stopped him from doing that. Who stopped Ragnarok of ending his life...was himself or in this case...his inner berserker, he then threw the knife away and was ready to leave...until he found a body....one that was still breathing. The shaman was the only survivor, he told Ragnarok about his destiny and how one day, his primal rage would grow beyond his control and stain the world in pure red as he bring its end. After hearing this, Ragnarok explored the world while searching for help, training his combat skills along the way, but....it was a futile effort. There was no way of stopping his primal rage of taking over him, so he imposed a self exile. In order of hurting others, he isolated himself in the mountains. Meditating day and night, hearing how his berseker self whispered poisonous words of how he will drown the weakling in their own blood and turn kings into slaves and their queens and princessess into whores and how he would execute every infant at the eyes of their parents in the most brutal way possible. Ragnarok soon realized, that no matter how hard he struggled. He would have to learn to deal with his rage in the heat of the battle while fighting evil creatures, so he ended up forming his own ¨clan¨, a mercenary organization under the name of ¨The Forsaken¨ that was formed of others that were treated like outcast by their own people. With his forsaken, Ragnarok plans to purge the world and putting his rage for good. But....will those battles be enough to peace the beast? Only time will tell
Name: Scorch
Race: Dragonborn
Class: Warlock/The Fiend
Background: Haunted One
Backstory:
Ember.....she never asked for the "gift" she got...she only wanted to be free and grow with a family that loved her. Her egg was found by a dark elf, he decided to take care of the child and teach her what he knew of the "forbidden" knowledge of sorcery. She was making great progress, making her instructor proud at every step of her training. But....one day, while she was gathering materials for her final test...something went..horribly wrong. She was ambushed by some bandits, before she could cast a spell, the bandits knocked her down. She was stripped of her clothes, tortured and thrown into a cell. Soon she was sold to a coliseum in order to give the people some "fun". Day after day, night after night, Ember was treated like an animal and forced to do "tricks" in order to please the crowd, and....when she tried to resist....she felt on her back the end of a whip covered in spines and coated in a burning poison. The crowd never noticed the scars, for they were covered and even if they did notice them....they would never care. She couldn't take it anymore, so one night after getting her wounds "treated" she made a pact with a "fiend" among her people. Deathwing, the representation of destruction, misery, and death. He promised her a way of being free and make her captors pay, but....there is always a price for this kind of power. She didn't care for that...at that moment, she would give everything in exchange of finally be away of those....those monsters. Deathwing gave her the power she needed, once freed from the chains she walked toward the coliseum. With fury and burning rage, Ember sealed the place in a dome and released a plague inside of it, seeing how everyone died slowly. Since that day till today, Ember finds hard to trust humans or even being near them. She used her enhnaced senses to locate her master, but...once she did...she felt like it was all a cruel nightmare. He was in the main square of the town all tied up in a pike, covered in bruises and with his tounge cut off. Over him was a sign with the words "monster" written with his blood. Ember...in a fit of rage destroyed the whole town and the bastards that didn't do a thing to stop that injustice. She heard in the wind "The price has been paid. A life taken, in order to release one" she realized in a shock, she killed innocents when it was Deathwing who brought death to her master. Broken and with no hope left, she tried to end it. She was stopped by the spirit of her master, he told her that ending her life would only give the demon what it wanted. So now, Ember struggle to gain control over the power of the demon.Scorch.....he never asked for the "gift" he got...he only wanted to be free and grow with a family that loved her. His egg was found by a dark elf, he decided to take care of the child and teach him what he knew of the "forbidden" knowledge of sorcery. He was making great progress, making his instructor proud at every step of his training. But....one day, while Scorch was gathering materials for his final test...something went..horribly wrong. He was ambushed by some bandits, before Scorch could cast a spell, the bandits knocked him down. He was stripped of his clothes, tortured and thrown into a cell. Soon he was sold to a coliseum in order to give the people some "fun". Day after day, night after night, Scorch was treated like an animal and forced to do "tricks" in order to please the crowd, and....when he tried to resist....he felt on his back the end of a whip covered in spines and coated in a burning poison. The crowd never noticed the scars, for they were covered and even if they did notice them....they would never care. He couldn't take it anymore, so one night after getting his wounds "treated" Scorch made a pact with a "fiend" among his people. Deathwing, the representation of destruction, misery, and death. He promised him a way of being free and make his captors pay, but....there is always a price for this kind of power. Scorch didn't care for that...at that moment, he would give everything in exchange of finally be away of those....those monsters. Deathwing gave him the power he needed, once freed from the chains, Scorch walked out of the coliseum. With fury and burning rage, Scorch sealed the place in a dome and released a plague inside of it, seeing how everyone died slowly. Since that day till today, Scorch finds hard to trust humans or even being near them. He used her enhnaced senses to locate his master, but...once he did...he felt like it was all a cruel nightmare. He was in the main square of the town all tied up in a pike, covered in bruises and with his tounge cut off. Over him was a sign with the words "monster" written with his blood. Scorch...in a fit of rage destroyed the whole town and the bastards that didn't do a thing to stop that injustice. He heard in the wind "The price has been paid. A life taken, in order to release one" Scorch realized in a shock, he killed innocents when it was Deathwing who brought death to his master. Broken and with no hope left, he tried to end it. Scorch was stopped by the spirit of his master, he told him that ending his life would only give the demon what it wanted. So now, Scorch struggle to gain control over the power of the demon.
And finally, my latest creation. My Ranger/Gloom Stalker Yuan-ti Pureblood, Pythor.
Background: Urban Bounty Hunter
Backstory:
Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. He always played with his preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once he reached 18, he was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of his passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything he could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. He learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. He learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed him, offered him two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of his fallen brothers. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grinn he set the perfect trap for his people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, he now knew the cruelty of his people and how the world would be safe from them. Once he bathed in the blood of the elders, his scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to him, with this new knowledge he hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon he was the "prey", his people locked him away in a crypt where he would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop him. He crawled his way out, just to find ruins of his home. "Fools" he thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled he left, knowing that he will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest hunter. But....his plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" He heard a roaring voice behind him, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all his bones and slowly poured over him his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain he brought to his people as the venom began to change his form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving him to see his new face. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full snake, leaving also a few scars over his face. Now he must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" he caused.Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. She always played with her preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once she reached 18, Pythor was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of her passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything he could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. She learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. She learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed Pythor, offered her two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of her fallen brothers. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grinn she set the perfect trap for her people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, she now knew the cruelty of her people and how the world would be safe from them. Once she bathed in the blood of the elders, her scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to her, with this new knowledge Pythor hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon she was the "prey", her people locked Pythor away in a crypt where she would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop her. She crawled her way out, just to find ruins of her home. "Fools" she thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled she left, knowing that she will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest huntress But....her plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" He heard a roaring voice behind her, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all her bones and slowly poured over her his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain she brought to the anacondrais as the venom began to change her form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving her to see her "new" self. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full humanoid snake, leaving also a few scars over her face. Now she must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" she caused.Pythor was the most ambitious of the Anacondrais, one of the ancients and most dangerous races of the yuan-ti. She always played with his preys while learning the ways of a ranger, something that scared not only the younglings but the instructors as well. Once she reached 18, Pythor was already out and hunting for the tribe and also for a few "businessmans". Hunting was one of his passions, only a few elders knew how much Pythor spent on the halls of knowledge, learning everything she could......even if said knowledge was forbidden. She learned of the Great Devourer, the God of his people. Pythor learned as well how the elders kept it underground and offered the "weak" ones like they were nothing but a waste of space and planned to use it in order to become the only yuan-ti tribe. Once the elders noticed Pythor, offered her two options: 1) Become the next tribute or 2) Gain more power by drinking the blood of her fallen brothers and sisters. To grow in power, intellect, and gain the title of "Elder" an anacondrai had to hunt down and kill one of his own in order to gain its knowledge. Pythor accepted the "job" and with a wicked grin she set the perfect trap for his people.....have them all together in a crypt to pray for the Devourer. The screams and expressions of horror on the faces of the elders was a delightful sight for Pythor, she now knew the cruelty of her people and how the world would be safe from them. Once she bathed in the blood of the elders, her scales turned into a deep dark purple. Every secret was now revealed to her, with this new knowledge Pythor hunted down every corrupted anacondrai and drank their blood to learn more secrets. Soon she was the "prey", her people locked Pythor away in a crypt where she would rot to death.....but...that didn't stop Pythor. She crawled her way out, just to find ruins of her home. "Fools" she thought, "without the elders, the devourer would be free to feast upon those who captured him. It only needed a "savior" to let him know of the cruelty and corruption of his "children" and with a wicked smiled she left, knowing that she will use the obtained knowledge to track down the most dangerous prey and become the most ruthless and biggest huntress. But....her plans were changed "YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU COULD TRICK ME!!!!" She heard a roaring voice behind her, it was the devourer who felt the dark intentions of Pythor. "YOU DARED USE ME AS A TOOL!!! I CAN SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ELDER, THAT STENCH IS ALL OVER YOU. YOUR CRIME SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!!" And with those words, the devourer wrapped around Pythor, crushing almost all her bones and slowly poured over her his boiled venom. With loud screams Pythor felt the pain she brought to the anacondrais as the venom began to change her form. "NOW EVERYONE SHALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU REALLY ARE. A LYING, SLIPPER SNAKE!!!" Said the devourer as he threw Pythor to the ground, leaving her to see her "new" self. The yuan-ti where known to be a human/snake humanoid, having the snake part on the lower part of their bodies and the upper part of a human. The venom turned Pythor into a full humanoid snake, leaving also a few scars over her face. Now she must wander the earth with that "curse" feeling the "pain" she caused.
Please, i would really like to know the opinions you all have for these backstories