When the carnival came to town I couldn’t resist the chance to get away from my boring, podunk life in my boring podunk hometown, so I joined the carny and set out to travel the world with it. Too bad nobody told me that I would be too busy working to see the world, and that working in the carny would get boring quickly too. Now, after a few years to save up and learn what I could I’m out to see the world for real, and to use my carny skills to get by.

(Any race, Witchlight Hand background, Bard/Rogue)

All I ever wanted to be was a simple cobbler, I just wanted to make shoes for people and sell them and live a simple life. But circumstances lead me to a different life, one of swords and sorcery and monstrous creatures and labyrinthine ruins. But it’s got its perks, the gold for one thing, and the fame is nice too… and the ladies… oh the ladies…. 😉

Pickolas "Pickle" Redfeather, Kender Ranger:

While wandering in his beloved forest near his home when "Pickle" was 18, he found a beautiful red feather.  Wanting to know where it came from, he went off to search for the bird it came from. That was four years ago. 

Quote from IamSposta >>

All I ever wanted to be was a simple cobbler, I just wanted to make shoes for people and sell them and live a simple life. But circumstances lead me to a different life, one of swords and sorcery and monstrous creatures and labyrinthine ruins. But it’s got its perks, the gold for one thing, and the fame is nice too… and the ladies… oh the ladies…. 😉

 Baddest pictures in the world

My mom always wanted me to go into the family business and be a monster hunting adventurer like her, but I just wanted to be a simple farmer like most everyone else in town. However, when the raiders came to attack my village I took up arms and used the training I had received all through childhood to defend my neighbors, but I was one woman alone against a whole warband and my village was razed to the ground. Now, with my farm gone I have little else to fall back on other than what my momma taught me.

Life was good under the mountain, that was, until the great wyrm came and scattered my people to the far winds. I traveled many a month to get here, but now that I have arrived I will dedicate my life to the study of magic and the acquisition of great and wonderful item. Then, when I am ready I will return to the mountain from which I come with a band of worthy heroes and rid my childhood home of that accursed thing once and for all.

(Mountain Dwarf, Far Traveler, Wizard)

He somehow became a stowaway aboard a ship, but it doesn't bother him as his people have been survivalists since before other races dared enter their swamps. . Really hazy on his past but something ancient eldritch calls to him and asks him to take up the mantle of his family's long forgotten legacy. He lies to remind his party members that they have very pretty eyes and he'll be honored to eat them after they die in battle along this journey.. (and he says this with the kindest and most sincere way he can.)

(Lizardfolk Aberrant Mind Sorcerer)

The beard is deceiving: he's far older than he looks. Childhood is hard for half elves whom are raised by their human parent: aging to the human equivalent of 10 over the span of 50 years. Now at the age of 300, he's learned to drink deeply of life, enjoying the moments he can with his precious friends and loved ones, and always remember to be be passerby...

(Half elf rogue. Didn't want to be dark and broody, so his big thing is about enjoying life and freedom to the fullest, because he knows how fleeting it is). 

It's no wonder he ended up in the school of creation, the Bellowfall gnomes have always been tinkerers and jewelers, and their wares even inspired a bit of quiet admiration and jealousy amongst the local hill dwarves.

Watching little butterflies made of magical potential float forth out of a small mechanical music box, he was so proud of his final project. He couldn't wait to share his awe and wonder and just honest love and adoration of his craft with the rest of the world. 

(Rock Gnome Bard of Creation)

Bad Luck. The psuedodragon perched upon Eladris's shoulder, a gentle reminder his life was no longer his own. They say beware of the fey and what they seem to offer, as sometimes an offer can be construed as theft.

Theft. He was of a noble and honorable warrior family, and he could swear that bastard KNEW it, and that's why he loved to make Eladris steal. Just another way to twist the thumbscrews...

(ok, technically 6 sentences, but still. Goliath Warlock of the Archfey, Pact of the Chain

Not exactly the type of pact most people go for, with an absentee or "friendly" patron. Instead the archfey he's beholden to provides him power through a small trinket they (gender neutral as you should never trust  a fey's appearance) swear Eladris stole, and forces him to steal random trinkets (like 7 forks from the inn he's staying at) and the psuedodragon is Eladris's familiar, whose also being used, but in this case to keep tabs on Eladris and to communicate to him through. )

In my conning days, a favorite trick of mine was to travel from city to city as a cleric and provide healing services to militaries; the right type of incense comes in contact with the right type of makeup, and you can make even the most grievous "injuries" dissolve in half a minute. But one day, my partner in crime got held up, and I was sure I was done for when a man with a real gash along his torso was wheeled in for me to fix. I don't know what smiled on me that day, but when I futilely layed my hands, his flesh knit itself up even faster than my fake wounds melted--I've never known how, but now I have real magic to match my vestments and symbols.

I was born to a family of Changeling performers in the Witchlight Carnival. While growing up and working in the carnival I was trained as a Druid by one of the animal handlers. As an adult I chose to leave the carnival to explore and adventure because I was drawn to the unknown of the outside realms.

I was born to lead an infernal cult dedicated to turning common folk into demonic vessels. My father raised me on its outskirts, along with my human sister, who was supposed to have been a human sacrifice. When father was tried for his actions and hanged, my sister and I ran; she was cut down, I kept running, and I have despised myself since.

Last I remember I entered a drinking contest against some bloke called Sam and the next thing I know I'm waking up with a raging hangover, clutching a broken staff and a temple priest shouting at me for desecrating the Holy Water. I found a note from Sam saying I broke his favourite staff and I needed to fetch a feather from a Were-Raven, a toe from a Hill Giant and a Wine from the Feywild in order to make a mystical glue to repair it. I've no idea how to do any of that but I feel a strange compulsion to do it.

*Loosely based on the quest "A Night To Remember" from Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Probably a good one for Warlock with an Archfey patron.

#1) Me and my band used to tour from way up north in Stoneharbor, down the Copper Coast, west along Old Trade Rout, and finish up in Sapphire Bay before catching a ship back to Stoneharbor again to start the next tour. It was a pretty sweet gig until one day in Silverport, these buncha guys go careening past in a carriage shouting “for Anderlin!!” and shot us all up with crossbow bolts. I managed to survive, but Frankie and Pablo didn’t, and now I’m all like, “who the **** is Anderlin?!?” I don’t know, but I’ma find out, and find out why my friends had to die too.

(Any race, Performer background, any class (but probably Bard))

Quote from AWierdPotato >>

Me and my band used to tour from way up north in Stoneharbor, down the Copper Coast, west along Old Trade Rout, and finish up in Sapphire Bay before catching a ship back to Stoneharbor again to start the next tour. It was a pretty sweet gig until one day in Silverport, these buncha guys go careening past in a carriage shouting “for Anderlin!!” and shot us all up with crossbow bolts. I managed to survive, but Frankie and Pablo didn’t, and now I’m all like, “who the **** is Anderlin?!?” I don’t know, but I’ma find out, and find out why my friends had to die too.

(Any race, Performer background, any class (but probably Bard))

"Frandirlen!" is Fey for "We're so drunk/stoned/high/wasted/pissed/hammered/tipsy!" (lit. The first person plural of "acting maudlin".)

Quote from EricHVela >>

Quote from AWierdPotato >>

Me and my band used to tour from way up north in Stoneharbor, down the Copper Coast, west along Old Trade Rout, and finish up in Sapphire Bay before catching a ship back to Stoneharbor again to start the next tour. It was a pretty sweet gig until one day in Silverport, these buncha guys go careening past in a carriage shouting “for Anderlin!!” and shot us all up with crossbow bolts. I managed to survive, but Frankie and Pablo didn’t, and now I’m all like, “who the **** is Anderlin?!?” I don’t know, but I’ma find out, and find out why my friends had to die too.

(Any race, Performer background, any class (but probably Bard))

 

"Frandirlen!" is Fey for "We're so drunk/stoned/high/wasted/pissed/hammered/tipsy!" (lit. The first person plural of "acting maudlin".)

I made that up.

 My head went to the Smokie ft. Roy Chubby Brown version of "Living Next Door To Alice" although for this one we'd have to change the lyrics a little to "Living Next Door To Anderlin" just so the rest of the table can chant the Roy Chubby Brown bit of "Anderlin? Anderlin? Who the F**K is Anderlin!".

If you've not heard that song take a few mins out of your day to youtube it.

I just got a kick outta the pseudomedieval drive by. 😂😂

#2) I had spent a fantastic evening in the Cock & Bull Tavern in Silverport drinking and listening to a riotous band called The Lucky Bastards perform bawdy ballads. After they were done their set, I followed them out to the street to chat them up when out of nowhere a bunch of guys went careening past in a carriage shouting something and shot them all up full of crossbow bolts. I rushed over to help, or at least pray over the dying as my order prescribes, when suddenly my prayer was answered for the first time ever and I was able to save one of them from death. I took it as a sign and now I travel with him to find the truth about what happened that night.

(Any race, Acolyte background, any class (but probably Cleric))

When people needed things made, I made them well. When somebody needed an assassination tool made, I made it deadly. When the late noble's guards needed vengeance made, I made myself scarce.

Quote from Quar1on >>

When people needed things made, I made them well. When somebody needed an assassination tool made, I made it deadly. When the late noble's guards needed vengeance made, I made myself scarce.

This is probably the best backstory I've heard on this thread so far, and we're 700+ comments in.

Great job Quar1on!

#3) I was out on patrol, walking my rounds when I see this carriage go careening around a corner, a bunch of yahoos inside it shout at a few minstrels that were walking down the street and shoot them full of crossbow bolts. A nearby member of the clergy ran to assist the victims, so I took off after the carriage and launched a fire bolt after it, it lit the back of the carriage on fire a little, but didn’t do any serous damage though, and the carriage continued around another corner and out of sight. I don’t know who they were, but I’ll remember that carriage and find them. Nobody terrorizes civilians in my city… nobody.

(Any race, City Watch/Investigator background, any class (but probably Wizard))

I see what you’re doin’ there Potato. Clever.