I think that backstories are some of the most important parts of the characters. They give them a reason to fight. They make the character interesting. I have a pretty good one for a person who is basically an NPC awakened.

Nodred Pelios Charwen was the son of the wife of a normal meat farmer, farming cows, pigs, and chickens. His real father was a deadbeat, and ran to neverwinter, never raising his son. Nodred lived his entire life happily with his mother and step father in the small farming community of Helgin, found at the foot of Mt. Hotenot. Throughout his life, he lived with the same group of people, meaning whenever new people, such as adventurers trying to scale Mt. Hotenot, was cause for celebration. What Nodred didn’t realize was that whenever people scaled Mt. Hotenot, they aroused the ancient dragon sleeping in the volcano. After the dragon killed the adventurers, it would always come and ravaged the town. The nearby woods would had dangerous monsters of all kinds, and when adventurers ran from these powerful beasts, the Helgin was just collateral damage. Whenever incompetent adventurers would come to Helgin, woe fell the village.

When Nodred turned 16, a powerful mage came to the village. They boosted the village’s economy, and put Helgin on the map as a successful trading outpost. He was raised to become the villages mayor. All was well until the mage become bored ruling the small village, bored with the gifts, bored with their tiny problems, bored with their tiny lives. The mage became arrogant and self-centered, taking advantage of the villagers who loved him. He increased taxes, made the villagers do his bidding, and used them to become a very successful, and very, very rich businessman. Then another mage came, wanting the previous mage’s wealth. The enemy mage stormed into the city, killing any villager who tried to stop him. When he reached the mage of Helgin, they faced off. They threw powerful spells at eachother, and the village was horribly damaged in the duel. Their were many causalities, including Nodren’s step father. When Nodren cried to the mage for help, he heard the mage mutter under his breath, “They don’t matter, they are just NPCs.”

When Nodren heard this, he came to an understanding. An epiphany, a revelation, an enlightenment, almost… an advancement in consciousness. He realized that the other, more “important” people didn’t care about his kind. He realized that their government, their protectors, their gods, even the laws of the world didn’t care about them, didn’t give them a second thought. To them, we were just background characters in other people’s stories. More important people. More powerful people. More magical people. Nodren vowed that he would not be a part of somebody else’s story. He vowed to fight back against the people who didn’t care about him, didn’t even realize he was there. Then, he took his stepfather’s sword, and plunged it into the back of the weakened mage, killing the mage instantly.

From then on, Nodren protected the town, making sure no people would take advantage of the town again. He made sure no “important” people entered Helgin, and fought off and magical beasts or spells that tried to affect the village. Nodren did this for 15 years, and Helgin slowly became more of what it was when Nodren was a child. But people slipped through the cracks, taking advantage of the townspeople. Massive beasts overpowered him and pillaged the town. Powerful spells couldn’t he could t stop caused people to die. He then realized that he couldn’t just keep the dangers away from Helgin, he had to destroy them, or drive them away, completely. He then set off an adventure to find some way to keep Helgin away from these dangers.

A changeling sleepwalked (was telepathically led) into a deep cavern where he encountee a big floating brain. The brain was a materialized projection of one of these brain creatures. They were interdimensional hivemind beings of god-like knowledge of the universe and unimaginable psionic and aberrant power. 

The creature didn't seem evil despite of its monstrous appearance. They offered to make my changeling one of them. My character accepted and the creature planted a "seed" in his brain, giving him his aberrant sorcerer powers and access to the hivemind. 

The brain creatures had no language. So instead they shared thoughts, visions etc. with him. He couldn't even begin to comprehend their way of thinking or the knowledge they possessed, so this didn't give my character any additional abilities or superpowers. He had experienced isolated visions of the universe and felt the presence of some sort of a center of their power, which he interpreted as a god. 

But the hivemind did play a role. Spells like comprehend languahe, tongues, legend lore etc. were drawn from the hivemind. So by spending spells slots and gaining levels, his access to the hivemind and its secrets grew stronger. And with each level he became more and more alike with them.

His purpose was simple. He was to plant seeds, sort of antennae in people's minds. This had no mind control effect and my char had no reason to expect any ill will from the brain creatures. The brain creatures had very limited access to the world and needed these kind of wireless routers - the people. The seed was a bit difficult to plant, but it was hereditary and that way passed on to future generations. So he'd plant as many as he could and then after some generations it would have spread far and wide. To the brain creatures that kind of a timespan was meaningless. This was a simple side hustle in the campaign. Something that I did every now and then when they right kind of npc came across.

So as I gained levels, I became more and more like them and my powers and knowledge grew greater. At around lvl 20 and at the of the campaign, I probably would have become a complete part of the hivemind and cease to have my own mortal personality. Maybe even turn into a different creature entirely. But we never got that far. 

I haven't played D&D in over 30 years; back then it was still 2nd edition, I think. I'm starting a new campaign in January with some young folks, and I wrote this as a sort of backstory plus initial encounter with another member of the campaign.

/start

Tarkhal sat near the fireplace, strumming his lute as the patrons drank and ate at their tables. He’d been playing at the Sweet Mule tavern for a week, now, trying to gather enough information to impress his patrons at the Lord’s Court to make him a full investigator. He needed to make more money to finance his bard training.

For five years now he’d been carrying contracts and messages across Faerun from Waterdeep to Westgate for them, but still they wouldn’t let him run his own investigations. While it grated on him that they just kept him running back and forth, it at least it gave him the chance to meet new people and see new places; a far cry from the small farm he’d grown up on.

He loved his grandparents, though. They’d had to raise him after his mother was sent to live at the Convent of St. Celebis.  He’d never known her, or his father. His grandparents only told him that his mother had run off one night with his father, some sort of elf.  A year later, his mother had returned home with a half-elven baby and a broken mind.

Her mother, his grandmother, was a harper. She would play for him, and sometimes when the nearby town had a fair. When he was just three years old, he picked her pan flute and started making music. She taught him all she knew, and he would go on to master the lute, pipe, and bagpipes as well.

As he grew and gained skill, his music became somehow… more. There was a vibrancy to it. When he was twelve years old, playing at a local fair, she noticed how the audience was nearly enthralled as he played. It was then that she realized he has the potential to become a true Bard.

She and her husband didn’t have money to send him for training, but she did have an old friend who had some skill. She arranged to have an old friend of hers come and teach Tarkhal the basics of this musical mysticism, to at least help him control his power if nothing else.

His grandfather, a veteran of the Triboar militia and sheriff had taught him logic and reason; how to follow a trail – both literally and figuratively – to find the truth. He would regale Tarkhal with tales of the various battles and raids, defending against the trolls and giants that would some time threaten the town. As he grew older, grandfather would share darker tales. Tales of heinous crimes and how he would pursue the murderers, thieves, and bandits relentlessly, relying on his ability sort fact from fiction.

Gran-da wasn’t exactly pure in how he pursued his targets, either. “I’ve seen enough evil done to people I love in this world, boy, that I won’t let it happen again. I may work for the law, but I’ve no qualms about using my enemies’ tactics against them. I’m not one to let a locked door get in my way, and I’ve learned to set traps as well as avoid them. You hunt your prey until they’re dead, or you are. There’s only one individual that ever escaped me, and he wasn’t human.”

Returning to the moment, he swept his glance across the room and over his target, Baron Calvoss, as he held court over in the far corner. While this wasn’t a formal investigation, Tarkhal had heard enough rumors to know something wasn’t quite right in this town. He decided to spend some time here and see what he could learn. Maybe he could scrape together enough evidence to convince the Court it was time for his promotion.

Calvoss had a couple of bodyguards standing nearby as a steady stream of petitioners came and went from his table. These weren’t your typical peasants pleading with their lord for favor, however. Low-life criminals who managed pieces of Calvoss’s burgeoning crime syndicate were providing reports and receiving payment on their various activities. Since Calvoss was the local law enforcement, there really wasn’t much danger in these scofflaws being apprehended here, but Calvoss did need to keep his activities somewhat clandestine.

The side door opened, allowing a cold wind to breeze briefly in. A hulking shape wearing a thick cloak entered and made its way to the bar.  As he watched the creature moving across the room, Tarkhal noticed someone else paying special attention.  A Shadar-kai, dressed in a dark leather coat sat alone to the side. With long, dark hair that had a silvery lock cascading down one side of her face, her appearance was quite striking. Strange that he hadn’t noticed her until now. She must be using some skill to keep attention away from herself.

Tarkhal observed her watching the creature – a half-orc perhaps? it was had to tell beneath the cloak – when she turned her gaze back to him. They held each other’s gaze for a moment until she cocked an eyebrow at him. He grinned back at her while continuing to gently pluck at the lute. A serving girl brought him a fresh tankard. 

“Thank ye, lass. I’m going tae take a break for a few minutes to wet me tongue and rest me fingers. Tell Juluk I’ll be back up in a few minutes,” he told her.

“Oh no problem, Tark. You know you being here always increases his custom!” she replied.

Tark took the tankard and his lute and found his way over to the table where the Shadar-kai was sitting. He noticed that she had angled her seat to keep an eye on both Calvoss and the door.

As he crossed to her, he could see that she’d been traveling rough. Mud was caked on her boots and her coat had coarse tears in it like she'd wrestled a bugbear. Even so, she posed like a coiled panther, ready to strike in a flash. He’d need to engage her carefully.

“Do ye mind if I sit with you for a wee time, my bonnie lady?" he asked her with a slight bow and a rakish grin. “Tarkhal Lorgadh, traveling bard, at your service.”

She looked sidelong at him, keeping Calvoss’ table in her peripheral vision. “Well, aren’t you a charmer,” she said flatly. “I’m not actually looking for company tonight.”

“Sure, sure. You look like you’re already focused on how you want to spend your evening. Nevertheless, I’ve given you my name, what’s yours?” he smiled at her.

Eyes fixed on the Baron’s table, she said, “Desdemona. Now will you please move along? You’re cute and all, but I’m trying to do some work here.”

“Indeed, I can see that ya have yer eyes set on a very specific individual. It seems we might be sharin’ a common interest,” he said, tilting his head toward Calvoss. He sat down at an empty chair, careful to not block her sight lines while keeping Calvoss in his own peripheral vision.

“That idiot?” she muttered, irritated. “He’s not worth my time. It’s the meeting he’s about to have with that tantekurash that just came in.”

“Ah, what’s that yer sayin’?” Tarkhal stared at her.

She sighed, “A tantekurash is a sort of gnoll slaver. I’ve been trying to get a hold of this one for several weeks now. There’s a nice sized bag of silver waiting for me if I can bring his head, or some other significant body part back to Candlekeep. This is the closest I’ve gotten to him so far, so I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way and go back to distracting the crowd with your music.”

“Well, now isn’t that most interesting,” said Tarkhal. “You see, I’ve been sent down here by the Lord’s Court to observe old Calvoss there. Ya see, there’ve been a few people gone a-missing around these parts over the past months and they have some suspicion that he might be involved. Perhaps we might be of some use to each other after all.”

Raising her eyebrow again, she drawled drily, “Do you honestly think I need your help in taking down this gnoll?”

“Oh of course not,” said Tarkhal, grinning. “I’m ok to handle a good bar fight, but that fella there seems to be a fair bit larger than my usual opponent.  However, you did say that you’ve been having a hard time getting the fella cornered and that’s where I’m thinking I can help you out.”

Desdemona considered a moment, then said, “All right, what’s in it for you? There’s no way in the seven hells that I’m splitting my bounty with you.”

“Of course not, my bonnie lass!” he replied. “What I’m hoping is that after we take down your tantekurash friend there, is that he’ll have some hard evidence that he’s working with ol’ Calvoss. Then I’ll have good news to take back to my patrons at the Lord’s Court. A sort of win-win, ya see?”

Desdemona looked at Tarkhal more closely. While he was dressed something like a dandy, she looked at him and could see he was being quite serious. For all his mannerisms, he was trim and solidly built. The scabbard of his rapier looked as if it has seen some use, and the callouses on his hands weren’t all from strumming the lute. She could see a hardness in his eyes that betrayed his outward carefree façade.

“All right, bard. Maybe we can help each other out. You really think you can help me corner the gnoll?” she said.

“Ach aye, my bonnie lass. I swear it on my life!” he pledged, placing his hand over his heart.

“Stop calling me ‘bonnie lass’ unless you want to try playing that lute with broken fingers,” she growled. “You can call me Dez.”

“Alright then. Dez.” He grinned broadly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Did you ever play ‘catch the kobold’ growing up…?”

/end

My newest character is a mark of scribing gnome druid / life cleric. Has 18int and 20wis. 

A quick summary of the campaign setting to explain some things: It's a bit apocalyptic, so society collapsed at some point. The only known world atm is the valley they live in. There are only three major settlements. 

Three spirits of chaos were unleashed in the beginning of the campaign. One of them was recaptured in our last sessions. I'm making a new character for the rest of the campaign. 

Dinik Serraborin (gnomish name), Serramanduir (dragon name), Áine (original sylvan name) and Óronin (his name among High Sorcery Mages)

Classic amnesia story with a twist. I wanted to make an old character and decided to go with amnesia to avoid complications with this setting. 

Dinik was originally a fey tree spirit of Vitality and Rejuvenation called Áine, serving the Tree of Life, the physical manifestation of an unknown god. 

Dinik was chosen by his god to enter the world to spread their wisdom, acquire knowledge and help people. 

This happened a long time ago. Hundreds of years at least, since Dinik is an old gnome. 

He travelled the world far and wide and was quite powerful at his peak. He remembers very little, though.

He remembers spending time with an old brass dragon, who gave him his Mark of Scribing. He was also a member of the Mages of High Sorcery. He knows some wizardry, but was a member mostly because of his knowledge, many talents and magical abilities. He also spent quite a bit of time studying Arcane knowledge there and has expertise in Arcana. 

He recognizes the spirits of chaos as his old sworn enemies. His previous life "ended" when he was forced to confront all three chaos spirits and was defeated. He was petrified into a metal statue and has been in that state for who knows how long. 

He knew what the spirits were doing and quickly calculated his odds. He knew he wouldn't survive the encounter so instead of trying to escape, he sheltered parts of his mind and memories in a magical mind palace. Unfortunately he only had time to protect parts of his mind/memory, so he had to prioritize. He shielded his knowledge of things (knowledge skills) and much of his talent, his personality, his origin and memory of High Sorcery and the dragon. 

Unfortunately almost every other memory has faded in his time of endless captivity. He was now awakened. He only has tiny flashbacks from his life, but his protective spell has kept him well oriented and quickly ready to go. 

He lost a lot of levels in his tomb of metal and is now lvl 5. It is not determined what his level was before, but a lot more. So whenever he gains a level, he in fact regains some of his old powers, which explains the rapid growth of his powers since the campaign is expected to go to approx level 12 in a relatively short span of in-game time. 

Working on an Autognome character who is actually a mechanical puppet created by a wicked wizard...an individual obsessed with efficiency, power & control; who plans on replacing key individuals with constructs that he commands...using the "Constructed Commoner" stat block...thereby slowly gaining control over the population.

Tentatively, I'm naming the autognome puppet Gio...since he is a prototype with the designation of G-0 (Gnome Zero, or otherwise "gee-oh").

Gio's creator created multiple autognome puppets to serve as his enforcers, each with their own specialty (flavored as different classes like Barbarian or Rogue).

Gio was blessed by Gond, however...the Wondermaker giving the puppet a degree of sentience so that he could understand that he was being used as a weapon for evil purposes.

As a Wizard, Gio stole one of his master's spellbooks to unlock the secrets needed to overcome his former master.

I'm bouncing back and forth between the Bladesinger subclass...wielding a scimitar as though being moved about by puppet strings...or a Necromancy Wizard who ironically moves skeletons around like puppets...I'll probably settle on Bladesinger for simplicity's sake.

Essentially, the backstory is somewhere between the "Fables" comic book series, and a medieval Megaman.  XD