This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Name: Eldrin Thorne Race: High Elf Class: Wizard (Order of Scribes)
Ability scores:151017141714
Background: Sage Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance:
Personality Traits: Curiosity is my compass. Every ruin, tome, and whisper of forgotten magic must be studied. My mind is a fortress. I rely on logic and knowledge over instinct or emotion. Ideal: "Knowledge is power, but wisdom is its wielder." Understanding the past shapes the future. Bond: An old mentor once spoke of a lost archive beneath Phandalin. I will find it, no matter the cost. Flaw: I overanalyze everything. In the heat of battle, I hesitate when I should act. Backstory: Eldrin Thorne was raised in the great elven libraries of Evereska, where he studied the arcane arts with a devotion few could match. He spent years buried in ancient tomes, fascinated by lost civilizations and the magic they wielded. But one particular legend consumed him—the tale of an ancient archive hidden beneath the ruins of Phandalin. His mentor, an aging scholar named Vaelith, believed it held knowledge from an age before recorded history. Before Vaelith could embark on his final expedition, he vanished. Determined to uncover both the truth and his mentor’s fate, Eldrin set out for Phandalin. But the frontier was far from the sterile halls of Evereska. Bandits, goblins, and worse creatures lurked in the wilderness, forcing him to trade ink and parchment for spell and steel. As he journeys to Phandalin, Eldrin finds himself an unlikely adventurer, his magic now a tool for survival rather than just study. The rumors of a white dragon only deepen his resolve. Such a creature’s presence is no coincidence—could it be guarding the very secrets he seeks? More importantly, is he truly ready to face the dangers that lie ahead? With his spellbook in hand and his mind sharp as ever, Eldrin Thorne steps into the unknown, determined to uncover the past and prove himself in the present.
I'm quite interested! Here are the stat rolls for my character:
16, 15, 17, 6, 10, and 8.
Hello SOC_Benaiah7, Thanks for your interest! Please roll your stats here using the dice roller tool. Reroll 1's once.
Ability scores: 171215111714
Name: Zephyros Ironheart
Race: Variant Human
Class: Fighter
Ability Scores: See above, much better thank goodness!
Background: Soldier
Appearance:
Alignment: Neutral Good
Personality Traits (2): Though I'd never admit it, I'm soft-hearted. I can stare down a hell hound without flinching.
Ideal: Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny.
Bond: I refuse to leave a man behind on the battlefield.
Flaw: I look down on those who lack respect and manners.
Backstory: Ever since I was a young lad, I've been fascinated by the sea. I always stared at it whenever I had any down time. When I was twelve, I felt something strange. It felt like the ocean itself was staring right back. skipping even closer to the sea I searched the unrevealing surface, to no avail. Then, the tide began to recede. I paused, raised an eyebrow and whispered curiously, "In all my years, I've never seen the ocean do that before!" I raced out to grab all the beached fish i could hold in my arms, briefly looking up only to find the sea rushing back to me. As a towering wave crashed over me, I felt the pull of the ocean's undertow drag me deeper under it's raging face. My gaze darted to my left, however. I saw the most beautiful woman I've ever seen! She grasped my arm, and pulled me to shore. Coughing and gasping, I tried thanking the kind woman who saved me. The woman simply smiled and laughed. She spoke in a strange accent and exclaimed, "You humans are always so curious! You could have died, you know that?!" After the sea elf and I met, we became good friends. For six more years, the two of us gazed upon the ocean everyday. However, when I turned eighteen, the surface world was stricken with war. I told my elvish friend I was getting drafted. She begged me to stay. She ranted on we could run, hide even. I simply put a finger up to her mouth, and hugged her. "I have a duty to my land," I whispered. "And I won't ignore it or forsake it." During the war, all I could think about was returning to Silvara. After a hard-fought fourteen years of war, my nation won. I wasted no time. I rushed to the sea of my childhood, and waited. "Silvara?" I shouted. The elf woman raced out of the sea, and into my arms. Silvara shook with excitement. She exclaimed, "It is so good to see you, old friend. Zephyros, please- we should start a new life... together." I nodded my head and smiled. After we wed, we boarded a ship headed to the sword coast. Five miles out from shore, we were attacked by a group of weapon wielding sea monsters. One of them pinned me to the side of the ship, preparing to impale me. Silvara screamed out, and hurled her trident at my foe. As the polearm struck it, the creature flailed around and knocked me of the ship. The last thing I saw before I blanked out was Silvara, surrounded and alone. Some time later, I awoke on the sandy shore of the sword coast. My ship was nowhere to be seen. I sighed, and thought about drowning myself. "No," I muttered. "That's not what Silvara would want." I decided to proceed with the plan, hoping to find Silvara in the town of Phandalin.
Name: Meira Dheran Race: Human (variant) Class: Rogue Ability Scores: 12 16 13 14 14 15 Background: Entertainer Appearance: Meira has short black hair and dark brown eyes with very lightly tanned skin. She is just over five-and-a-half feet tall. Typically she wears a dark grey tunic and black pants. Usually she has a light black-colored coat over the shirt. Her clothes appear to be well-tailored to her slight figure. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Personality Traits (2): I love a good insult, even one directed at me. / Nobody stays angry at me or around me for long, since I can defuse any amount of tension. Ideal: Creativity. The world is in need of new ideas and bold action. Bond: I love performing and I want to be famous, whatever it takes. Flaw: I'm often not serious, even in situations where I should be. Despite my best efforts, I can be unreliable to my friends. Backstory:
Meira was born and spent her whole life in a small town near Neverwinter. Always full of energy, she was quite a musical talent as a child. As she got older, she was something of an entertainer in town, playing her dulcimer, singing, and even dancing a bit now and then. She always talked about wanting to leave the 'stupid' town she'd grown up in, but it never seemed to happen. Perhaps it was the presence of her friends and family. Or perhaps she was just a bit afraid of going.
Unfortunately, music did not often pay as much as she might have wished. But Meira was always light on her feet and adept with her hands, and over time she developed a knack for sneaking about and getting into places. It started as fun pranks with friends. But over time she looked to maybe pick up a little extra coin. She even developed a little bit of skill with weapons - just in case, she always thought.
Her family was never that pleased with her choice of pursuits. But she was able to support herself, if just barely, so she saw less and less of her parents. Her younger sister looked up to her and always tried to emulate her. But she didn't have the same musical talent and ended up learning sewing and weaving, something she could take up as a trade one day soon. Her even younger brother mostly did his own thing, but Meira was still somewhat close with him. Still young, he looks inclined to be more of a fighter than she was.
With her work in the tavern, she met a lot of different folks. Including those who could offer jobs sneaking around and slipping into places. For a time, it helped put extra coins into her pocket. But suspicions about her role in these illicit activities started to grow. It only made her parents more concerned about her behavior, which led them to try to keep her siblings away from her. With sentiments growing against her, Meira started to realize it may finally be time to head out of town. Her heart had always been with music, and perhaps this was the chance to make a greater name for herself.
There are quite a few great character submissions. Thank you everyone for your interest in this game. I plan to leave this thread open for a few more days to allow plenty of time for anyone who wants a chance to play the opportunity to apply. Thank you for your patience. I will announce the selected participants via DM this weekend and plan to start the campaign early next week.
Sorry for the huge backstory, I had an excellent idea for a character I would love to play and wanted to get his whole story down! Thank you for this opportunity and your consideration!
Name: Thawdaum Garralk Race: Half-Orc Class: Cleric (War Domain) Ability Scores: Above Background: Soldier Appearance: Thawdaum has a worn, scarred face, with an angular chin and several stitches running from his brow to below his mouth and another set across the bridge of his nose and through his left eyebrow, narrowly avoiding his eye. He is tall but thin, and has mottled violet skin the colour of a bruise. He’s missing two fingers on his right hand, and all the toes off his left foot. Alignment: Neutral Personality Traits (2): I often will end up just sitting in silence at the smallest of things. The light through the trees, the sound of a cart in the mud…it’s always just enough to remind me of something. I can’t look humans in the eye. It isn’t their fault, I just…can’t. Ideal: It can always get worse. The worst trait of man is that they can be broken and rebuilt over and over, and yet expect things to improve the next time around. Bond: My only constant companions are my wounds, my grief…and my god. Flaw: Violence is the only way I can resolve conflict. It’s not because I want to, but it’s because I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t. Backstory: My mother was one of the many brides of a powerful orc war chief. I don’t know much about her, but I do know that she fell in love with a human man. I also don’t know much about him, or how often they met, or what the man even looked like, but they did enough to get her killed by the tribe for her sins when I was born. Surprisingly, I was kept by the tribe, but just for easy labour. I had no childhood there; I was constantly beaten, overworked and bullied by everyone within camp, always made to feel as worthless as the mud beneath my feet. But through it all, I kept some glimmer of hope for a better life. Guess that's childish naivety at it's finest.
At the age of 15, I fled. The tribe probably didn’t care. My departure was not a major loss to their ranks, and they likely were going to kill me when I got old and strong enough to push back against them. Over the next few years, life got better. I gathered scraps of an education, some money, and within 5 years, I had a homestead and a beautiful human wife, Scilia. She was my world, my everything. She was almost like the nurturing mother figure I never had, in a way. We then had a daughter, Esmil, though I never saw as much as her as I should of, as by that time I had enlisted to fight as a soldier for the war against the neighbouring kingdom, being away for months at a time, and then only returning for a week or two. The army liked having orc blood in their ranks, even though I wasn’t cut out for it in the slightest. They must have seen a hint of savagery in me, and they were right. I could kill.
I can’t remember how long it was that I was a soldier. The years drag out and blend in my mind, yet it feels like it was just for a moment, a thousands of lifetimes ago. It was a steady schedule of killing, then family, killing, then family, day after day, month after month. Eventually however, the war was nearing its end, as all things do, and whilst on patrol I encountered a lone enemy soldier in the woods. He was far from the enemy lines, but I didn't question that, and he was human: his hair was the colour of straw, and his green eyes had pupils like poppy seeds. Almost immediately, there was something about him that stirred me. I had spent much of my life resenting my orc side, and with a human family back home, I thought it would be best to embrace the human side of me, begin a new life, starting by sparing this man. And so I let him go. But even when I did so, I felt a sinking feeling inside, like I had turned my back on my kingdom, my allies, and even my tribe, even though I hated their guts. However, I shrugged that feeling off, and continued on.
Soon enough the war had ended, and I was able to return to my family, permanently. But, when I arrived, something was horribly wrong. The house was burnt, and I found a small grave near the door for my daughter, a bouquet of bluebells on top of it. Soon I was found by a neighbouring family; they had seen the smoke and rushed to the scene, saving my wife, barely, but my daughter was already gone. They told me that Scilia was staying with them. She was in an awful state, and they didn't know how much longer she could hold on, but that I should see her. When I did, I broke down. She was awfully scarred, worse then me, and when she tried to speak, her voice was course and constricted like the words were being barely squeezed out. She told me a human man had came to the house; a deserter from the enemy ranks. He demanded to take the home and its resources to live off, and when Scilia refused, he set the house on fire, knocking a lamp as he left. With tears in my eyes, I asked her what this man looked like. She said he had hair the colour of straw, and green eyes with pupils like poppy seeds.
She died of her wounds a few days later. Truly, I was lucky to see her before she passed. But, I was in mourning even before she was gone. As I knew that in the woods that day, when I let that man live, the sinking feeling I felt was not betrayal against my tribe or my country, but the one true god that I have lived under the shadow of my whole life; Gruumsh, Orc God of War, and he had punished me for my cowardice. From then on I have been a devout follower of him, seeking to carry out his will, living in constant fear of what else he can take from me lest I upset him once more.
Alignment: Neutral Personality Traits (2): (1) I feel far more comfortable around animals than people and (2) I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and Manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear Ideal: Nature - The natural world is more important than all of the constructs of civilization Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me Flaw: Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. It is nature's way that the strong thrive and the weak perish Backstory: Theren grew up in the peace and quiet of the valley after the orc horde had come through and destroyed Phandalin. For his entire century long childhood the wood elves of his village and the rest of the valley have enjoyed the solitude of the ruins and have been protectors of the natural order. But something has changed. People have come. Trees are being cut down, mines are being opened, and the town is growing. And to top it all off, a dragon has come to the valley. It's all truly unpleasant. Being more curious that many in his village, Theren has ventured out to learn more about these newcomers and see if they can be stopped from turning a nice little valley into just one more of their cities.
Appearance: Marneb is a surprisingly muscular gnome with fairly long straight hair. Bushy brows that almost seem to eat devour the steel grey eyes below them whenever his eyes are closed. He's never seen without his favorite red cap or the off-color patches that hold it together. As a gnome of simple means and little desire to deal with more than the minimum needs of self care, he tends to dress as simply as any common traveler.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Personality Traits (2): (1) I don't mince my words. Better to say what is meant, and let the dice fall where they will. (2) Games can capture my attention for hours, but I'm always a good sport in defeat.
Ideal: Curiosity. Boredom cannot exist while there's something yet to learn.
Bond: My old home might not have been especially kind to me or my ambitions, but I feel an affinity for the people who live there.
Flaw: I'll do anything to get my hands on shiny gizmo and doodad of any kind.
Backstory: Born the seventh son of the seventh son in a long line of wizards, Marneb grew up believing he was destined for greatness. A belief his family certainly shared as they spared few expenses to not only help foster his talent, but despite the downward turn of fortunes the Myllwipper faced, his parents went a step further in sending him off to waterdeep to learn under a family friend that could help him keep up the momentum. Unfortunately, the destructive envy of a fellow apprentice and his own burgeoning fascination in the inventions of Gondites led him to abandon the course in favor of following a new dream. And yet, with his family's misfortune yet rearing its ugly head repeatedly over the years, work was never stable, and guilt kept him from returning home. Eventually, he would recieve a letter from home request he check up on some cousins living near Phandalin. So, he would seize the opportunity to both as a small means of making amends and maybe even find some worthwhile advice from his otherwise more reclusive kin.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything valuable—or where such things could be hidden.
I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.
Ideal: Redemption. There’s a spark of good in everyone. (Good)
Bond: I’m guilty of terrible crimes. I hope I can redeem myself for it.
Flaw: If there’s a plan, I’ll forget it. If I don’t forget it, I’ll ignore it.
Backstory:
Kelas always stood out, with a sturdy frame that dwarfed other elves and a quiet insight beyond his years. Orphaned young in the cutthroat alleys of Baldur's Gate, he learned early that brute force was currency. His fierce physique caught the eye of local criminals who groomed him into an enforcer, a role he secretly despised. Each time he raised his fist to collect debts or intimidate the helpless, something inside him twisted with guilt. One fateful night, Kelas refused an order to harm a defenseless family. In the brutal retaliation that followed, he was beaten nearly to death. As he lay bleeding under the moonlit sky, a gentle radiance enveloped him. It was Selune, stirring a dormant spark of compassion deep in his soul. Awakening with renewed purpose and a whisper of divine magic, Kelas devoted himself to the faith,vowing to wield his strength in defense of the vulnerable. Now, he wanders the Realms, determined to atone for his sins and offer solace to those living in the shadows.
Alignment: Chaotic Good Personality Traits (2): 1. Curisoity is my constant companion: Velthir is a wanderer and an explorer, drawn to new places and experience. 2. I say what I mean and I mean what I say: Velthir speaks honestly and openly (sometimes too openly) Ideal: Keep moving forward. There is no point looking backward and lamenting what might have been. Bond: The ring given to him by his father at his coming of age. It represents his ties to his people and his life before. It's a symbol of the things that have brought him to where he is. Flaw: Velthir is quick to act, sometimes throwing caution to the wind. Backstory:
Velthir Geron was born among a clan of wandering elves, a people who shunned the rigid cities of their kin in favor of a nomadic life. His family traveled the vast mountain ranges, following ancient routes known only to their kind, charting paths through treacherous peaks and forgotten valleys.
One fateful winter, as his clan made their way through the high passes, an avalanche roared down from the cliffs above, forcing them to take shelter in a network of deep caverns. Velthir, ever the curious explorer, wandered too far from the others, his lantern casting long shadows against the ancient stone. As he went deeper, the air around him grew strange—thicker, humming with energy. Then, he saw it.
The very air itself was rent in a deep tear ahead of him.It shimmered in the darkness, a wound in space itself, pulsing with an otherworldly light. As he stepped closer, a strange force gripped him, pulling him forward. In an instant, his mind was cast adrift into the vastness of an unknown relam. He saw endless silver seas, drifting islands of thought and memory, and beings of impossible form watching him with unknowable eyes. He felt the energy of that place surging through him, searing into his soul like a brand. He did not know how long he remained in that place—seconds, hours, years?
When he awoke, he was back in the caverns, his body tingling with residual energy. The stone around him was scorched with arcane sigils, and his veins pulsed with raw magic. The tear had vanished. And so had his family.
Velthir spent weeks searching the mountains, but there was no trace of them. They had, understandably, given him up for lost and continued on their journey. Alone and forever changed, he descended from the peaks, wandering from town to town, trying to understand what had happened to him and to make sense of the power that now flowed through his veins.
Now he stumbles into Phandalin, gaunt and exhausted, looking for a place to rest before setting out for his next adventure.
Appearance: Jabril is a 6' 2" male Tiefling with sage green eyes and red-brown skin. His hair is curly and brown, and his short horns are a silvery grey, pulling from the back of his head and curving forward to push ahead of him ever so slightly. His once-prominent nose is flatter and slightly crooked, clearly the result of several breaks. His skin is dry, almost leathery in appearance, except where the appendages (arms, legs, and tail) are sparsely covered in wiry hair. His tail is brown and shorter, only 4 or 5 feet long, ending in a small stub.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Personality Traits: I’ve lost too many friends, and I’m slow to make new ones. I can stare down a hell hound without flinching.
Ideal: Responsibility. You do what is right to the extent of your knowledge and ability, no matter what.
Bond: I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.
Flaw: I have little respect for someone who is not well-disciplined.
Backstory:
Jabril was raised on a farm by his father, a human soldier, and his mother, a Tiefling whom his father met while in the employ of a regional lord. His mother was killed in a minor lord's uprising when Jabril was 6. His father blamed himself for not protecting them enough, rejoining the army to crush the uprising before returning to raise Jabril. He did his best, but only really knew combat, farming, and very basic morals (which he followed strictly).
Jabril knew there was something lacking in the routine of work, train, rest, repeat, but his father was too hurt by his wife’s death to do any more. Jabril’s father eventually died of disease and various injuries when Jabril was 18. Since then he’s traveled, occasionally a guard or soldier, occasionally a student or a laborer, trying to figure out what he’s missing, searching for meaning in his life. He's come to Phandalin by chance, being warned by a fellow traveler to avoid the town and its dragon and deciding to instead chase the danger, hoping to find meaning in helping those in need.
Fair warning, I'm new to DnD. I've done my homework, but this would be my first campaign.
Name: Eldrin Thorne
Race: High Elf
Class: Wizard (Order of Scribes)
Ability scores: 15 10 17 14 17 14
Background: Sage
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance:
Personality Traits:
Curiosity is my compass. Every ruin, tome, and whisper of forgotten magic must be studied.
My mind is a fortress. I rely on logic and knowledge over instinct or emotion.
Ideal:
"Knowledge is power, but wisdom is its wielder." Understanding the past shapes the future.
Bond:
An old mentor once spoke of a lost archive beneath Phandalin. I will find it, no matter the cost.
Flaw:
I overanalyze everything. In the heat of battle, I hesitate when I should act.
Backstory:
Eldrin Thorne was raised in the great elven libraries of Evereska, where he studied the arcane arts with a devotion few could match. He spent years buried in ancient tomes, fascinated by lost civilizations and the magic they wielded. But one particular legend consumed him—the tale of an ancient archive hidden beneath the ruins of Phandalin. His mentor, an aging scholar named Vaelith, believed it held knowledge from an age before recorded history. Before Vaelith could embark on his final expedition, he vanished.
Determined to uncover both the truth and his mentor’s fate, Eldrin set out for Phandalin. But the frontier was far from the sterile halls of Evereska. Bandits, goblins, and worse creatures lurked in the wilderness, forcing him to trade ink and parchment for spell and steel. As he journeys to Phandalin, Eldrin finds himself an unlikely adventurer, his magic now a tool for survival rather than just study.
The rumors of a white dragon only deepen his resolve. Such a creature’s presence is no coincidence—could it be guarding the very secrets he seeks? More importantly, is he truly ready to face the dangers that lie ahead?
With his spellbook in hand and his mind sharp as ever, Eldrin Thorne steps into the unknown, determined to uncover the past and prove himself in the present.
Ability scores: 12 15 18 17 10 15
Name: Meira Dheran
Race: Human (variant)
Class: Rogue
Ability Scores: 12 16 13 14 14 15
Background: Entertainer
Appearance: Meira has short black hair and dark brown eyes with very lightly tanned skin. She is just over five-and-a-half feet tall. Typically she wears a dark grey tunic and black pants. Usually she has a light black-colored coat over the shirt. Her clothes appear to be well-tailored to her slight figure.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Personality Traits (2): I love a good insult, even one directed at me. / Nobody stays angry at me or around me for long, since I can defuse any amount of tension.
Ideal: Creativity. The world is in need of new ideas and bold action.
Bond: I love performing and I want to be famous, whatever it takes.
Flaw: I'm often not serious, even in situations where I should be. Despite my best efforts, I can be unreliable to my friends.
Backstory:
Meira was born and spent her whole life in a small town near Neverwinter. Always full of energy, she was quite a musical talent as a child. As she got older, she was something of an entertainer in town, playing her dulcimer, singing, and even dancing a bit now and then. She always talked about wanting to leave the 'stupid' town she'd grown up in, but it never seemed to happen. Perhaps it was the presence of her friends and family. Or perhaps she was just a bit afraid of going.
Unfortunately, music did not often pay as much as she might have wished. But Meira was always light on her feet and adept with her hands, and over time she developed a knack for sneaking about and getting into places. It started as fun pranks with friends. But over time she looked to maybe pick up a little extra coin. She even developed a little bit of skill with weapons - just in case, she always thought.
Her family was never that pleased with her choice of pursuits. But she was able to support herself, if just barely, so she saw less and less of her parents. Her younger sister looked up to her and always tried to emulate her. But she didn't have the same musical talent and ended up learning sewing and weaving, something she could take up as a trade one day soon. Her even younger brother mostly did his own thing, but Meira was still somewhat close with him. Still young, he looks inclined to be more of a fighter than she was.
With her work in the tavern, she met a lot of different folks. Including those who could offer jobs sneaking around and slipping into places. For a time, it helped put extra coins into her pocket. But suspicions about her role in these illicit activities started to grow. It only made her parents more concerned about her behavior, which led them to try to keep her siblings away from her. With sentiments growing against her, Meira started to realize it may finally be time to head out of town. Her heart had always been with music, and perhaps this was the chance to make a greater name for herself.
Sheet: Meira Dheran's Character Sheet - D&D Beyond
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi ||
Neital Rhessil, Wizard || Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Satina Cindermark, Fighter || Meira Dheran, Rogue
Character sheet's done. Post updated to include the details.
Stats:
Ability scores: 13 9 15 13 14 15
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
Callow Sunken-Eyes: Goliath Arctic Druid: We Are Modron
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
Hello everyone!
There are quite a few great character submissions. Thank you everyone for your interest in this game. I plan to leave this thread open for a few more days to allow plenty of time for anyone who wants a chance to play the opportunity to apply. Thank you for your patience. I will announce the selected participants via DM this weekend and plan to start the campaign early next week.
Have a wonderful week everyone!
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Ability scores: 15 15 10 15 14 14
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain
Thelanis - Darkness Below: Kholias
Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards.
DM - The Old Keep
Coriana - Company of the Grey Chain
Thelanis - Darkness Below: Kholias
Wagner - Dragon Heist: Bards.
DM - The Old Keep
Sorry for the huge backstory, I had an excellent idea for a character I would love to play and wanted to get his whole story down! Thank you for this opportunity and your consideration!
Name: Thawdaum Garralk
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Cleric (War Domain)
Ability Scores: Above
Background: Soldier
Appearance: Thawdaum has a worn, scarred face, with an angular chin and several stitches running from his brow to below his mouth and another set across the bridge of his nose and through his left eyebrow, narrowly avoiding his eye. He is tall but thin, and has mottled violet skin the colour of a bruise. He’s missing two fingers on his right hand, and all the toes off his left foot.
Alignment: Neutral
Personality Traits (2): I often will end up just sitting in silence at the smallest of things. The light through the trees, the sound of a cart in the mud…it’s always just enough to remind me of something. I can’t look humans in the eye. It isn’t their fault, I just…can’t.
Ideal: It can always get worse. The worst trait of man is that they can be broken and rebuilt over and over, and yet expect things to improve the next time around.
Bond: My only constant companions are my wounds, my grief…and my god.
Flaw: Violence is the only way I can resolve conflict. It’s not because I want to, but it’s because I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t.
Backstory: My mother was one of the many brides of a powerful orc war chief. I don’t know much about her, but I do know that she fell in love with a human man. I also don’t know much about him, or how often they met, or what the man even looked like, but they did enough to get her killed by the tribe for her sins when I was born. Surprisingly, I was kept by the tribe, but just for easy labour. I had no childhood there; I was constantly beaten, overworked and bullied by everyone within camp, always made to feel as worthless as the mud beneath my feet. But through it all, I kept some glimmer of hope for a better life. Guess that's childish naivety at it's finest.
At the age of 15, I fled. The tribe probably didn’t care. My departure was not a major loss to their ranks, and they likely were going to kill me when I got old and strong enough to push back against them. Over the next few years, life got better. I gathered scraps of an education, some money, and within 5 years, I had a homestead and a beautiful human wife, Scilia. She was my world, my everything. She was almost like the nurturing mother figure I never had, in a way. We then had a daughter, Esmil, though I never saw as much as her as I should of, as by that time I had enlisted to fight as a soldier for the war against the neighbouring kingdom, being away for months at a time, and then only returning for a week or two. The army liked having orc blood in their ranks, even though I wasn’t cut out for it in the slightest. They must have seen a hint of savagery in me, and they were right. I could kill.
I can’t remember how long it was that I was a soldier. The years drag out and blend in my mind, yet it feels like it was just for a moment, a thousands of lifetimes ago. It was a steady schedule of killing, then family, killing, then family, day after day, month after month. Eventually however, the war was nearing its end, as all things do, and whilst on patrol I encountered a lone enemy soldier in the woods. He was far from the enemy lines, but I didn't question that, and he was human: his hair was the colour of straw, and his green eyes had pupils like poppy seeds. Almost immediately, there was something about him that stirred me. I had spent much of my life resenting my orc side, and with a human family back home, I thought it would be best to embrace the human side of me, begin a new life, starting by sparing this man. And so I let him go. But even when I did so, I felt a sinking feeling inside, like I had turned my back on my kingdom, my allies, and even my tribe, even though I hated their guts. However, I shrugged that feeling off, and continued on.
Soon enough the war had ended, and I was able to return to my family, permanently. But, when I arrived, something was horribly wrong. The house was burnt, and I found a small grave near the door for my daughter, a bouquet of bluebells on top of it. Soon I was found by a neighbouring family; they had seen the smoke and rushed to the scene, saving my wife, barely, but my daughter was already gone. They told me that Scilia was staying with them. She was in an awful state, and they didn't know how much longer she could hold on, but that I should see her. When I did, I broke down. She was awfully scarred, worse then me, and when she tried to speak, her voice was course and constricted like the words were being barely squeezed out. She told me a human man had came to the house; a deserter from the enemy ranks. He demanded to take the home and its resources to live off, and when Scilia refused, he set the house on fire, knocking a lamp as he left. With tears in my eyes, I asked her what this man looked like. She said he had hair the colour of straw, and green eyes with pupils like poppy seeds.
She died of her wounds a few days later. Truly, I was lucky to see her before she passed. But, I was in mourning even before she was gone. As I knew that in the woods that day, when I let that man live, the sinking feeling I felt was not betrayal against my tribe or my country, but the one true god that I have lived under the shadow of my whole life; Gruumsh, Orc God of War, and he had punished me for my cowardice. From then on I have been a devout follower of him, seeking to carry out his will, living in constant fear of what else he can take from me lest I upset him once more.
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Borvnir Chelvnich: Black Dragonborn Barbarian: Dragons of Stormwreck Isle
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
Callow Sunken-Eyes: Goliath Arctic Druid: We Are Modron
DMing The 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist and The Hunt for the Balowang!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
Would love to play this one. Only got to come in as a sub player once and then the campaign promptly died.
Rolling first: Ability scores: 10 13 13 8 11 16
Here it goes - thanks for considering.
Name: Theren Moonshade
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Druid (likely going Circle of the Moon)
Ability Scores: (after mods): STR: 10 DEX: 13 CON: 14 INT: 11 WIS: 18 CHA: 8
Background: Outlander
Appearance:
Alignment: Neutral
Personality Traits (2): (1) I feel far more comfortable around animals than people and (2) I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk. Money and Manners won't save you from a hungry owlbear
Ideal: Nature - The natural world is more important than all of the constructs of civilization
Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me
Flaw: Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. It is nature's way that the strong thrive and the weak perish
Backstory: Theren grew up in the peace and quiet of the valley after the orc horde had come through and destroyed Phandalin. For his entire century long childhood the wood elves of his village and the rest of the valley have enjoyed the solitude of the ruins and have been protectors of the natural order. But something has changed. People have come. Trees are being cut down, mines are being opened, and the town is growing. And to top it all off, a dragon has come to the valley. It's all truly unpleasant. Being more curious that many in his village, Theren has ventured out to learn more about these newcomers and see if they can be stopped from turning a nice little valley into just one more of their cities.
Ability scores: 14 16 10 11 13 15
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
I'd love to join. Ability scores: 9 16 10 15 15 12
I'm probably laughing.
Marneb is a surprisingly muscular gnome with fairly long straight hair. Bushy brows that almost seem to eat devour the steel grey eyes below them whenever his eyes are closed. He's never seen without his favorite red cap or the off-color patches that hold it together. As a gnome of simple means and little desire to deal with more than the minimum needs of self care, he tends to dress as simply as any common traveler.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Kelas always stood out, with a sturdy frame that dwarfed other elves and a quiet insight beyond his years. Orphaned young in the cutthroat alleys of Baldur's Gate, he learned early that brute force was currency. His fierce physique caught the eye of local criminals who groomed him into an enforcer, a role he secretly despised. Each time he raised his fist to collect debts or intimidate the helpless, something inside him twisted with guilt. One fateful night, Kelas refused an order to harm a defenseless family. In the brutal retaliation that followed, he was beaten nearly to death. As he lay bleeding under the moonlit sky, a gentle radiance enveloped him. It was Selune, stirring a dormant spark of compassion deep in his soul. Awakening with renewed purpose and a whisper of divine magic, Kelas devoted himself to the faith, vowing to wield his strength in defense of the vulnerable. Now, he wanders the Realms, determined to atone for his sins and offer solace to those living in the shadows.
I'm probably laughing.
Going to make a Tiefling (probably Ranger), rolling to hold a spot.
Ability scores: 14 15 12 14 11 14
I'm keen!
Ability scores: 9 16 15 12 16 12
Name: Velthir Geron
Race: High Elf
Class: Sorcerer (Aberrant Mind)
Ability Scores: 11, 15, 12, 14, 12, 18
Background: Haunted One
Appearance:
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Personality Traits (2):
1. Curisoity is my constant companion: Velthir is a wanderer and an explorer, drawn to new places and experience.
2. I say what I mean and I mean what I say: Velthir speaks honestly and openly (sometimes too openly)
Ideal: Keep moving forward. There is no point looking backward and lamenting what might have been.
Bond: The ring given to him by his father at his coming of age. It represents his ties to his people and his life before. It's a symbol of the things that have brought him to where he is.
Flaw: Velthir is quick to act, sometimes throwing caution to the wind.
Backstory:
Velthir Geron was born among a clan of wandering elves, a people who shunned the rigid cities of their kin in favor of a nomadic life. His family traveled the vast mountain ranges, following ancient routes known only to their kind, charting paths through treacherous peaks and forgotten valleys.
One fateful winter, as his clan made their way through the high passes, an avalanche roared down from the cliffs above, forcing them to take shelter in a network of deep caverns. Velthir, ever the curious explorer, wandered too far from the others, his lantern casting long shadows against the ancient stone. As he went deeper, the air around him grew strange—thicker, humming with energy. Then, he saw it.
The very air itself was rent in a deep tear ahead of him. It shimmered in the darkness, a wound in space itself, pulsing with an otherworldly light. As he stepped closer, a strange force gripped him, pulling him forward. In an instant, his mind was cast adrift into the vastness of an unknown relam. He saw endless silver seas, drifting islands of thought and memory, and beings of impossible form watching him with unknowable eyes. He felt the energy of that place surging through him, searing into his soul like a brand. He did not know how long he remained in that place—seconds, hours, years?
When he awoke, he was back in the caverns, his body tingling with residual energy. The stone around him was scorched with arcane sigils, and his veins pulsed with raw magic. The tear had vanished. And so had his family.
Velthir spent weeks searching the mountains, but there was no trace of them. They had, understandably, given him up for lost and continued on their journey. Alone and forever changed, he descended from the peaks, wandering from town to town, trying to understand what had happened to him and to make sense of the power that now flowed through his veins.
Now he stumbles into Phandalin, gaunt and exhausted, looking for a place to rest before setting out for his next adventure.
Jabril was raised on a farm by his father, a human soldier, and his mother, a Tiefling whom his father met while in the employ of a regional lord. His mother was killed in a minor lord's uprising when Jabril was 6. His father blamed himself for not protecting them enough, rejoining the army to crush the uprising before returning to raise Jabril. He did his best, but only really knew combat, farming, and very basic morals (which he followed strictly).
Jabril knew there was something lacking in the routine of work, train, rest, repeat, but his father was too hurt by his wife’s death to do any more. Jabril’s father eventually died of disease and various injuries when Jabril was 18. Since then he’s traveled, occasionally a guard or soldier, occasionally a student or a laborer, trying to figure out what he’s missing, searching for meaning in his life. He's come to Phandalin by chance, being warned by a fellow traveler to avoid the town and its dragon and deciding to instead chase the danger, hoping to find meaning in helping those in need.
Fair warning, I'm new to DnD. I've done my homework, but this would be my first campaign.