I was born in the forest with a twin sister named Ea. We were raised in a temple where everybody was trying to remove our infernal heritage, they failed of course, multiple temples tried, they all failed it was annoying but not everybody is that bad, like my sister and a few close friends. I became an acolyte asking for ways to remove my legacy and also I lived there so what else do I do. While I was asking the gods to help me my dad said he would and so he became my patron. I was living out my normal life when I teleported into a place with no idea how i got there, and I took it as telling me my life would never be the same, I never saw Ea but I got married with a woman named Seddit who is a neutral good tiefling soldier who is perfectly fine with the fact that she is a tiefling and we might get kids.
Ive got a couple that I like enough to post. Both for warlocks.
Here's the backstory for a warlock using my homebrewed Feytouched Tiefling race.
The promise of an ages old pact, made by a long-dead ancestor, was repaid when you were born. Your hooves, pointed ears, and antler nubs said you were something different. Something unnatural. From that day forward, your family was viewed with suspicion and veiled hostility. When the monster came, it’s reaction to you didn’t help. Having killed dozens of innocent townsfolk, it saw you trying to get other children to safely, ran over to you, examined you, let loose an unholy roar, and stalked out of the village and disappeared into the countryside. That moment changed the veiled hostility of the villagers to open hate and violence. As the sun set, the mob arrived outside your home. Your father and brothers fought bravely to protect you and your mother, but only managed to buy enough time for the two of you to escape.
Days later, hungry, disheveled, and exhausted, the two of you were discovered, hiding in a rough, abandoned cabin, deep in the woods. Fortunately, the couple who found you bore you no ill will, and took both of you in. They became your new family. As you grew, you learned that your new family were members of The Silver Circle, a secret society of druids and shape shifters. They knew of the creature that had visited your town, but not where it came from, or who sent it.
Weeks before your 7th birthday, you started having strange dreams. Visited by all manner of fey creatures, you learned of the pact, and of the ‘blessing’ handed down to your family. The visit by the Damh (pronounced ‘Dav') himself went about as well as can be expected. The ancient, and unbelievably haughty archfey, under the impression that his gift had been taken as the blessing it was intended to be, arrived ready for a birthday celebration, and was instead confronted by a confused, hurt, and raging little girl who had no interest in hearing what the fey had to say. By the end of the encounter, your mother, and the rest of their new family witnessed the powerful, near god-like, son of Titania and Oberon apologizing to, and promising to make things right for, an exhausted, and screamed-out child.
You have not seen Damh since, but 4 years later, your teachers began arriving.
And the son of a dwarven lord whose clan was displaced from its home generations ago.
Darmus Stonehammer, son of Delg, is heir to the lost dwarven keep of Kanaglym, which was accessible to the world above through Dragonspear Castle. His people were forced out in the years before the fall of Dragonspear Castle. The loss of the dwarven stronghold below played no small part in the castle's fall. Darmus, like most of his line, had no real hope of ever visiting Kanaglym. Meeting his wife, and then the birth of their daughter, gave him a reason to change that.
Darmus's magic first manifested while praying to Tyr during the Time of Troubles when Tyr had disappeared. He found his prayers answered not by Tyr, or even Torm, but by Ilmater. In the time leading to the Second Sundering, the responses to his prayers stopped, as they did for everyone else, except the Chosen. It was during this time that he began to 'hear' the voice of his ancestral hammer. Listening, he began to learn of the old ways. The ancient rune magics of dwarves, lost to antiquity.
His previous magics did not return with the Second Sundering, but the bond with 'Gatecrasher', the name given by the voice of his hammer, has strengthened, allowing him access to magics he never before knew.
Note: The dwarvish term for 'Gate Crasher', Ar Sabrak Bar, literally translates as 'lay open the broken gate'. It is a shortened form of Raugh Ar Sabrak Bar, or 'death lays open the broken gate', in the ancient tongue. That phrasing has a negative connotation, suggesting that, not only was the gate in question your own, but that it was opened by one of your own. The latter meaning, however, would be considered esoteric and archaic to even the most learned and devoted dwarven historians and linguists. In those contexts, a modern translation would be 'End Bringer'.
Very cool! I love the idea of two brothers in a party. :)
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Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken. Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing. Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan. Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer. Plays god on Saturdays.
For my first campaign, I played a character named Maximilian. He was left on the steps of an orphanage as a baby and doesn't know who his parents are. The orphanage was a terrible place, but at least one of his caretakers was kind and caring, and taught him his morals. But around the time he turned ten, she disappeared, and soon it was unbearable.
So he ran away, but he barely survived in the streets. After a while, he made his way to the countryside, where he worked on a farm for a while. But when he found out the farmer's daughter had a crush on him, he panicked and fled (he's ace). So then he decided to join a ship's crew, but ended up on a pirate ship.
He didn't like that at all, not wanting to do bad things, but he couldn't do anything about it for a long time. Until one day, a fleet of pirate ships was going to attack a town, and was waiting out of sight for nightfall. He slipped into the sea when no one was looking, swam ashore, and ran to the town to warn the people there. As a result, they drove off the pirates.
After that, he was adopted by a wizard from the town, who taught him the basics of spellcasting, before sending him to a university to complete his studies. After his first year there, he was framed by a rival and expelled. It was at that desperate time that one of his professors asked a favor of him, and before long, he was neck deep in his first perilous adventure.
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Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken. Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing. Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan. Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer. Plays god on Saturdays.
In the years following his father's disappearance, Carter Brightpine took up the mantle of Ranger Lord for the Eilreids Valley. It was his duty to care for the valley and the people who made it their home, as well as defend it from roving bands of orcs and goblins common to the area. One day, while out on patrol, Carter discovered a war-camp in the high mountains, but before he could get back to the valley to warn the villagers, he was caught in a landslide. By the time Carter awoke, the war-band, led by Molaak'Tok and his werewolf bodyguards, had already made their attack and moved on. Upon returning to his lordly manor, Carter learned that his mother and pregnant wife were killed in the attack. His eight-year-old daughter was nowhere to be found. Haunted by the deaths he could have prevented, Carter now lives in self-imposed exile, on a neverending hunt for Molaak'Tok and his warband.
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"When I finally find a pen I have nothing to say..." ~Some graffiti I found once.
In the years following his father's disappearance, Carter Brightpine took up the mantle of Ranger Lord for the Eilreids Valley. It was his duty to care for the valley and the people who made it their home, as well as defend it from roving bands of orcs and goblins common to the area. One day, while out on patrol, Carter discovered a war-camp in the high mountains, but before he could get back to the valley to warn the villagers, he was caught in a landslide. By the time Carter awoke, the war-band, led by Molaak'Tok and his werewolf bodyguards, had already made their attack and moved on. Upon returning to his lordly manor, Carter learned that his mother and pregnant wife were killed in the attack. His eight-year-old daughter was nowhere to be found. Haunted by the deaths he could have prevented, Carter now lives in self-imposed exile, on a neverending hunt for Molaak'Tok and his warband.
Thanks! Yours is great, too! Way more tragic than mine even. Maybe a merciful DM would let his daughter be alive somewhere ...
Good luck in your hunt for Molaak Tok!
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Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken. Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing. Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan. Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer. Plays god on Saturdays.
My druid's backstory is humongous, with a whole kingdom and history written around him. ^^ But the main part of it:
The Aldalire family is the most influential, wealthy and powerful noble family in the wood elf kingdom of Lomalos, constantly vying for royal favor against their nearest rivals, the Vithan family. Celelia Aldalire was the wife of the third (and therefore unnecessary) child of the head of the family, and already had three entirely unnecessary children of her own. When it became known that the queen was expecting, Celelia thought that she could increase her political status by having a fourth (extremely unnecessary) child and bonding with the queen by being pregnant together. Since the queen was a hardcore ranger and spent most of her pregnancy patrolling the borders and fighting troll incursions, this turned out to be a grave miscalculation.
The child was born and given the child name of Ondo. Since he represented a complete failure at gaining influence, his mother soon lost what little interest she had in him (his father never had any at all) and he was turned over to the servants to raise. He was the same age as the youngest prince, though, and so was frequently summoned to the castle to be one of the prince's companions and playmates.
Ondo's grandmother, Avalêhen, the head of the family, decided he could still be useful. When he was around seven years old, she and Ondo's uncles began training him ceaselessly to be the family's eyes and ears in the castle, and to curry favor for the Aldalires and undermine the Vithans. He was relentlessly trained in archery, dragonchess, dancing, diplomacy, swordsmanship, and every skill a courtier would need to be a perfect companion to the prince. He was taught that he must always be just one step behind the prince: to always kill just one less animal than the prince while hunting: to let him win Dragonchess only after a hard struggle: to come in second to the prince when horse-racing, etc. To be certain of securing his second place and never accidentally outshining the prince, Ondo must be a true master of every court skill.
Unfortunately for the family, Ondo had a mind of his own. He was not very sociable, and hated court pastimes. He was a quiet child who liked to putter in the garden, walk in the forest, and read books about botany. The prince was rowdy and adventurous and wanted to play war games and sports and get into kinds of mischief that terrified Ondo, and Ondo began to avoid his company, hiding in the castle library or garden while the prince played with other companions. Ondo did not want to be the Aldalires' spy on the royal Lithelon family, because the royal family treated him with more kindness and respect than his own family did: he felt that the princes and princess were his own siblings, much more than his real siblings were: and saw the king and queen as the parents he wished he could have had. As for undermining the Vithans, while Ondo loathed many of them, he loathed the Aldalires equally as much.
The only thing that kept Ondo in line at all over the years was the fear that, if he ever offended the prince or royal family, he would be banished from the castle forever and forced to live a life of failure and disgrace in the Aldalire estate under his disapproving grandmother's iron thumb. (Actually, the Lithelons saw him as a valuable asset, an ally within the Aldalire family, a friend, and a good lesson in diplomacy for the hotheaded younger prince, so he was never in real danger of being sent away.) So for decades, Ondo remained the Prince's reluctant companion, joining his hunts (until he could slip away into the forest to study plant life) attending palace balls (until he could sneak off to the library) and generally remaining an oddball hanger-on of the royal family.
When Ondo was about sixty-five years old, Talos Vithan, the ancient druid who maintained the kingdom's sacred grove, became ill and nearly died. When he recovered, the king ordered him to choose and train a successor. Avalêhen Aldalire decided she had finally found a use for her useless, botany-loving grandson, and the Aldalire family mobilized, taking every opportunity to promote Ondo for the position and to undermine potential rivals, and twisting Ondo's arm into being introduced to the High Druid.
When Ondo reached the sacred grove (his grandmother had not been allowed to accompany him) Talos Vithan greeted him warmly. He said that the sacred Naranda tree always chose the new High Druid, and that it had actually chosen Ondo as the successor several decades ago. There had just never seemed any urgency about informing him of that fact. Ondo could move into the sacred grove and begin his training any time he liked.
When he returned to the Aldalire estate, Avalêhen was delighted at the news and began discussing how having an Aldalire in the position of High Druid would benefit the family. Ondo informed her that he had no intention of showing preference to the Aldalires, and that the position of High Druid was politically neutral, and he was now completely independent. If he served anyone but the High Druid and sacred tree, it was the royal family. After a long and bitter argument, Ondo left the mansion forever, burning his certificate of nobility and throwing his family signet ring away,
He moved into the sacred grove, free from his family and their demands, free from the need to placate the prince, free from the fear of being banished from the royal castle. To celebrate his change of life and position, even though only sixty-five years old, he took his adult name of Edeleth, 'Elf set free,' and began training with High Druid Vithan.
His appointment caused a political firestorm. In the three thousand years since the kingdom was founded, every High Druid but one (a Lithelon) had been a Vithan, descended from the druid who had originally helped capture the valley from the evil wizard Grimmerang. The Vithans were furious, and whatever triumph the Aldalires still felt over one of their own family being given a traditionally Vithan position shortly came to a furious end, as the king soothed the Vithans by appointing one of their number as Royal Treasurer, a position that was nearly always awarded to an Aldalire.
Edeleth was content to stay almost constantly within the sacred grove, avoiding his own angry and disappointed family as well as the furious Vithans, and learning the secrets of the druids. The royal family visited the grove often enough, and he still attended royal functions, when he had to (usually as the proxy or companion of the High Druid, so nobody dared to be completely disrespectful to him) so he was still able to maintain the only relationships that mattered to him. He spent eighty years learning from Talos Vithan and tending the sacred grove, and by the end of it, he knew every tree, leaf, animal, and blade of grass that lived within the grove.
The Sacred Naranda tree was the only known one of its kind: it had been found in the castle garden after Grimmerang had been defeated, and some speculated that he had created it himself, or brought it from some unknown plane or an odd corner of the Feywild. It was a huge, beautiful, sentient tree with oak-like leaves, and bark streaked with flame colors. In spring it blossomed in great red flowers, and in late summer it offered a bountiful harvest of large, orange-red, oblong fruits, sweet and spicy and with an oddly smokey flavor.
The tree was at least three thousand years old: and like High Druid Talos Vithan, it could not live forever. Nobody had ever succeeded in getting one of its seeds to sprout, or a cutting to take root. Talos had spent his life experimenting with propagation techniques, and had at last found a way to make the Naranda's cuttings viable. He prepared a hundred tree cuttings to be planted elsewhere. King Celairatar saw this as not only a chance to spread the growth of Naranda trees, but as away to cement friendships with allied nations, by offering them the gift of the sacred trees.
Someone had to carry the cuttings and be responsible for their planting. Edeleth was given the task. He agreed to be the guardian of the sacred tree's children and find them new homes, hoping that it would not take long and that he would return to his mentor and beloved sacred grove before too long.
It wasn't until things began to go wrong and his adventures started that he began to realize that his journey was not only about the trees: it was apparently the next step in his training to become the next High Druid of Lomalos.
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Edeleth Treesong (Aldalire) WoodElf Druid lvl 8 Talaveroth Sub 2 Last Tree StandingTabaxi Ranger, Chef and Hoardsperson lvl 5, Company of the Dragon Team 1 Choir Kenku Cleric, Tempest Domain, lvl 11, Descent Into Avernus Test Drive Poinki Goblin Paladin, Redemption, lvl 5, Tales from Talaveroth Lyrika Nyx Satyr Bard lvl 1, The Six Kingdoms of Talia
On Sundays I play as Sparks the tiefling storm sorcerer in a homebrew game. She was part of a tribe of Levistus tieflings that was kidnapped by a Cult of the Dragon mad scientist/wizard and subjected to energies from some amulets connected to the Elemental Planes. Sparks escaped the lab when a bunch of orcs attacked and joined the adventuring company Honeydew Solutions.
On Fridays I play Storm King's Thunder as Greta Van Tuskgrinder the dwarf barbarian. She was a dwarf soldier who fought against the Cult of the Dragon during the events of Rise of Tiamat. She lost her temper during a battle one day, which may have caused her to lose the battle against a Wearer of the Purple. She was so embarrassed after the event that she moved to the surface to do mercenary work. He rage helps her with fighting up there, and she's take the path of the Battlerager to connect with her heritage.
So yeah, neither of these people have super long backstories, but it fits since they both started at low levels. The reason both of them have backstories connected to the Cult of the Dragon is because I DMed Tyranny of Dragons and I thought it'd be fun to make that connection. The SKT group is actually the same group I ran HoDQ/RoT with, but with me as a player.
When Neriah was brought into the world she had no resemblance of a Tiefling Father nor Mother. Slowly emerging from the ground there was a beautiful yet horrid sight to behold, the grass died all around turning black, as the ground became space and stars all around, changing the very Plain around her into a Dark Void, the magnificent vibrant of violent and empty space of black had a comforting side and yet a horrifying truth Found by a beautiful Elven couple she overtime seemed to adapt their appearance. Her other family was her step sister Nymeria and her Celestial Wolf ¨Ama¨. Neriah grew to deeply love music and Sword Combat, and with her strange space bending abilities she formed many instruments and weapons she kept close and personal naming them all. Not all were instruments however, her favorite was a shape shifting creature named ¨Thea Nailo¨ Usually taking forms of animals, when Neriah needed comforting Neriah would transform into a guitar and set a beautiful blaze in a night sky. While the other was a extension of Neriahs very soul a longsword she names Forsaken, which was light to her and it grew in power over the years. Neriah and her charm, hooked her father closer as he grew to understand his Neriahs importance, as a her Mother saw the child as Hell-spawn and a Threat, growing to hate her child for every event that grew, keeping it to herself mostly. When Neriah was 6 she was speaking words only a Devil would understand and in the corner of her dark room was a shadowy figure with only three eyes, she argued with it at times, and seemed haunted by it even. But she also developed friends seemingly, the most notable one is one named ¨Solo¨ it quite literally taught her crafting and other important things of life. Her father and mother listened in on these conversations and the most important thing they kept in mind was Solo claims to remember nothing of his past life and knows he does not belong to this world. As the Dark alien that spawned in her room claims she is the most important piece of a puzzle and was Destined to travel the stars. Over the days and nights, she kept the mind of survival and crafty personality even nerdy from This ¨Artificer¨ known as Solo, while she kept the motivation and thought of Journey from the Fallen God that has many names, most notably ¨The Nebula¨ When Neriah, Nymeria, Ama went off in a journey across the plains and rivers, they traveled into a cave out of child's wonder and curiosity, Nymeria was resistant at first but she was tempted by Neriahs courage in the Darkness and Amas persistance. The three found a old Tree Creature that went by a simple name. ¨Bearer¨. He kept them company through fun in illusions, whatever they imagined he summoned, they often visited him until one day Neriah let Nebula take control and spawned a unimaginable monster one that struck fear into the hearts of all three. Nymeria was broken from this, and unable to keep a stable mind ever since. While Ama kept away from Neriah. And that never visited Bearer again, and later the tree that was growing near him died, and the cave collapsed into nothing but a damaged surface. When they came home after the event, they could barely get back home as the forest and river were set into a hellfire blaze, and when they did managed to escape nearly dead they turned and saw nothing more but a normal forest. Neriah´s imagination was nearly at fault once more. Her parents said nothing at first but in Nemeria´s sleep she was almost killed by her Mother who went mad over the very thought of her Devil Daughter and tried to use Nemeria´s own Blanket to suffocate her, but Neriah blew her mother through a wall somehow still able to walk ash took Ama and tried to get away with Nymeria as well. As the home was burning into ashes her Father tried to take her hand and save her from her own Destruction but Nebula appeared and killed him slowly through burning torture, breaking his mind with the use of illusions laughing as he saw Neriah set ablaze screaming in pain. Neriah escaped her home Unscathed and ran into the rest of her family in the burning woods, and her mother tried to shoot her with a pistol and only managed to fail Neriah deflecting it instantly with Forsaken. Neriah finally stated. ¨I loved you, until you Forsaked me, its why I named this sword that. I will do what I must now Mother, take care in the seven hells.¨ Her mother kept shooting but bullets dodged Neriah easily and they formed behind her ready to fire right back at her mother. And finally she killed her Mother, slitting her throat with Forsaken and leaving Ama and Nymeria untouched. She later eventually found Civilization after walking aimlessly for 5 years. 11 year old Neriah almost broken, she lost her Elven beauty and turned more tiefling eventually developing horns. All of her tools followed her and as well a Solo and Nebula. The City called named her the ¨Promised Devil¨ The church took her in to give her a education and tame the angels and demons inside, while the Military and Mages Guild took her in to tame her powers yet welcome her as family. She obtained hardly any friends and was nearly outcasted by all. She spent most of her time in the Library and causing trouble at royal dinner parties. After years of experience she binded the soul of her friend Thea and her some of her instruments into a magnificence Hybrid Shotgun named ¨Note¨. But Trouble lies ahead and as well as a future, the pull to the light and darkness is strong
I haven’t played in a while, but I’ve always been a huge lore nerd. I spent an hour or so just thinking up of a character that I’d like to eventually play. So! here is my idea for a Warforged Armourer Artificer:
Klarth Dramath (steel being in dwarvish)
Constantly upgrading body with defences and weaponry
Will not wield anything that is not a part of its body
Strongly believes that it’s body can always improve
Willing to do almost anything to enhance its body
A mad Dwarvish Arch-Artificer namedMelnar SparkForge was hired to build a machine of war for the military of a great kingdom. Melnar was known to be fond of electricity, and enjoyed using the element to create. He lived his life by 3 words of great importance to him: Live, Adapt, Evolve. In but 11 days, Melnar managed to create something unlike the military had ever seen. A warforged. A humanoid being made of metal, rock and wood. Strong, resilient, and above all, lethal. Melnar became obsessed with his creation, even giving it a name. Engraved down it’s left arm, the word “Klarth” and down its right, “Dramath”. Together meaning “Steel Being” in his native tongue. He passed along the machine. Equipped with a retractable shield on its left arm, a retractable long sword on its other, as well as its right arm being an Arcane Propulsion Arm. Melnar promised his machine would make winning the war easy. However, what Melnar failed to mention was that Klarth Dramath was not just a robot. It was not, just a machine. In the final stages of its creation, Melnar imbued the object with a life giving magic, giving Klarth Dramath sentience. This spell was set deep within the machines chest cavity in the form of a crystal. This crystal none-like any other, acts as a brain, capable of feeling, thinking, observing, learning, and every other aspect of what it means to be “alive”. This crystal, which in itself IS Klarth Dramath, sits deep within its shell of metal and wood. The crystal was set to lay dormant inside the war machines body, patiently waiting for the time in which to activate. This day took place decades after the war that ravaged the world had come to an end. This war would later be known as “The Last War”. On this very particular day, it’s creator, Melnar SparkForge, lost his life. The machine, damaged and weak, woke in the ruins of a long forgotten kingdom which had fell in the war.
Klarth awoke with no memory of its past, knowing nothing but 3 simple words. Words that would guide its life until the end of time.
Backstory: Zindureth wasn't born a Dragonborn, but rather a mighty Blue Dragon itself! Leaving the nest at a young and brash age, he stalked a lair of a Bulette and by using his cunning, lured a group of weak adventurers into battle with the mighty beast. The adventurers, no match for the monster were quickly slain, but not before weakening the Bulette to a point in which Zindureth could hunt it. After an epic struggle, the Bulette laid slain and Zindureth taking the adventurer's spoils set up his lair at the base of the mountains adjacent to the great desert. He kept the skeleton of the Bulette as a warning to those who approached his cave. By the nature of his being, the very air began to crackle with electricity and soon the Plains of Eternal Storm became a location marked on many maps.
That did not dissuade adventurers however. Wave after wave, they came storming his home, and week after week his hoard grew. So when a single Blue Dragonborn arrived alone, his puny frame suggesting a scholar of sorts, Zindureth in his arrogance, let down his guard. The Dragonborn spoke of studying the great blue dragon wyrmling, to regale tales of his ferocity. Zindureth absorbed every word, and greedily accepted the approaching Dragonborn. Zindueth was taught of the usefulness of magic practitioners and was excited to accept his first follower. In but a brief moment, the Dragonborn flashed a crystallize jar made of Dragonshard, and Zindureth felt a tugging sensation before fading to black.
When he awoke, he was lying in the middle of the Fields, thunder booming overhead. He attempted to spread his wings any fly to his den, and felt nothing. He checked his claws and discovered fragile nails where once was talons. With panic settling it he rushed back wobbly on two legs back to his cave, to discover it empty. A single glint of a gem covered in layers of dust caught his eye. Hurriedly he rushed towards it and peering at the reflective surface, he spied the very face of the cowardly Dragonborn peering back at him. Zindureth's eyes burned with a hate hotter than any lightning, he vowed in an ancient tongue that he will get his body back no matter what it took and that weakling who had the audacity to steal his form from him will pay. Breaking off part of the jawbone from the Bulette corpse, he took off towards the nearest settlement to find the trail of the coward and begin the hunt again.
Flavor: When Zindureth Rages it appears as though his draconic spirit is straining against the body he inhibits which causes the electrical bursts for this Storm Aura.
Mechanical:
His stats are 17 (Str), 10 (Dex), 14 (Con), 12 (Int), 10 (Wis), 14 (Cha) Point buy at level 5. This makes him have the same stats as a Blue Dragon Wyrmling. The idea being that Zindureth retained the mental stats of the Wyrmling, but now in the fragile wizard body, will have to train it back up to the strength he needs to fight and win his old body back.
The Draconblood Dragonborn better fits the idea of Wizard that the thief was, as well as to keep the Forceful Presence of his old self, and make it so that his level 6 lightning resist doesn't go to waste.
His old body that now belongs to the Wizard which would lead to a great late game boss. The spell casting ability of the wizard, while retaining the strength of the beast. The idea that the Wizard when in Dragonborn body would live to maybe 90 years, and now with the dragon body could live for centuries is a good motivation for taking the risk.
Asudak came from a faraway land where he and some fellow scholars ventured to find the perfection they can never achieve, but get closer to every day. They split up, and for 3 years he travelled searching for knowledge until one day he found an advanced city with technology like none other. Asudak then studied there and became an artificer, finally leaving to pursue knowledge and to improve himself. He made himself magical armour (THAT'S DEFINITELY NOT IRON MAN COPY NOPE) and a bag of holding to help carry everything.
Name: Grynn the Sanguine Race: Damphir (UA) [Gnoll] Class: Barbarian Background: Haunted One
Born and raised to a typical Gnoll tribe, Grynn was destructive, devious, vindictive, and sadistic. Known for their patience and cunning, the Crimson Fang tribe was the undisputed top of the food chain, his tribe ruled their territory with an iron, and bloody, fist. That all changed when a nest of vampires invaded the territory, and killed or turned the entire tribe. None remained living. When that happened, the nest became a destructive force of Chaos, Pain, and Death. They swept the countryside like a plague of demonic locusts, killing, turning, and enslaving hundreds before their deeds attracted the attention of the Company of the Blue Blade, adventurers of great renown.
The final battle was epic by any measure, the entire nest of vampires destroyed and brought to dust; but not before the last inflicted mortal wounds on the company. In the end, neither group remained among the living. In a great fit of despair, The Raven Queen, decided that something must be done. Seeking among the fallen, she chose her servant carefully. He would be a creature of death and shadow, reforged into an instrument of life and balance.
Newly returned to ‘life’, Grynn was sent to a distant temple of {some other deity} where he would be trained in the ways of the world, and tested to ensure he was worthy of his task. Forewarned by strange visions, the priests of the temple recognized Grynn, and though reluctant, allowed him entry and began his training. Time means little to someone of Grynn’s nature, and over the next few decades he was moulded into a potent tool for his goddess’s aims. Over the intervening years, Grynn has been summoned forth by his mistress, The Raven Queen, to rectify the abuse or misuse of Life.
A fell hunter in service of a radiant being, Grynn is a creature of darkness, but is a servant of the light. His task is to preserve the balance of life. He must end the unworthy, those who abuse life, and purify their life force, bringing worth and meaning to its continued existence; and he must preserve the life of the worthy fallen, those who exemplify life but cannot continue. To this end, he must absorb the life force of these people, either to bring it meaning and worth, or to preserve its worth and prolong it’s impact upon the world. His methods may not be for the weak of heart, or stomach, but he is always true to his task.
While a creature of nature, driven to extremes or madness, may find itself on the wrong side of Grynn’s mission, he feels great regret in ending such a life, but knows it must sometimes be done to better preserve life. Aberrations and the undead, however, are a blight upon the web of life, and must be destroyed. Grynn takes great pleasure in ending the predations of such beings, and will go to great lengths to ensure that his task is complete. The irony of his current condition in that regard has not escaped his notice.
It has been many years since he was last summoned to his duty, but fate has again intervened. Leaving the temple with his companion, {player character}, Grynn has once again stepped out into the world to bring balance against the forces chaos.
The young man was pacing down the long room, he had been going through the cells removing the dead and dying and bringing light to the darkness for he was a fair and just king. “I believe that is all m’lord” The area was now well-lit with braziers every 10 feet and empty save the old jailer and the young King
“What about that stretch of darkness?” The King inquired as he pointed down a dark corridor barely visible in the flickering torchlight. On any other day in the darkness, it would have been missed and continued to be forgotten. The old man raised his torch and peered into the darkness squinting, trying to discern anything in the inky black. “I don’t know, no one has ever gone down there as far as I am aware and I have been in charge of these cells for 40 years now.” The old man scratched behind his ear with a gnarled hand and reached for his office's keys.” I don’t think there is anything back that way. “The old jailer moved forward leading the way down the dark hallway.
“How long has he been in there?” The king was pacing back and forth in the cramped apartments.
“I don’t know, my King! My records only go back 315 years and there is no record of anyone being placed in that room or why.” The book the jailer was open, quickly flipping through the pages then put the old tomb back, pulling down another” There is no prisoner description that matches him in any of this.” The old man waves his hand at the rows of books on his shelves.
“I pinched a loaf of bread” There was no need to get into the specifics as his throat was still raw from nonuse even after the honeyed wine to soothe it. Unsure of how many years he had been feeding on rats and the odd creature to state his hunger and thirst. His answer is not the truth but if they are asking him why he is here then they don’t know the reason either. The torch light is too bright and he can barely make out the two figures as he squints up at them holding the cup in his lap. His clothes have long gone to dust as he waited for release. He has kept his skills active as much as he could in a 9’x9” stone cube. His body has become willowy and as hard as wood but there is only so much one could do. He might be able to take them out and escape he thought but let’s see how this plays out. They eventually released him with 130 gold pieces and a few copper pennies, a cloth shirt a tad too small, and a long strip of cloth pleated like a kilt and tied at the waist with a length of rope. They agreed to his wishes and released him as the moon rose above the horizon and for the first time in 350 years he was breathing fresh air again.
Once upon a time, I was a humble human who lived, and eventually died as an ordinary human soldier for my local lord. Good news is, I didn't stay dead. Bad news is, I didn't stay in my original body either. Worse news is, if I stay here, then the evil cultists trying to resurrect their dead leader (whose body I inhabit) might just succeed and bring about an apocalypse.
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Aasimar, bard Evangeline ‘Karen’ Aristos de-luca McCoy College of Glamour (she is gonna be a B!ITCH)
As a babe, I was chosen amongst all other infants in the clan for an arranged marriage to ensure continued peace between warring factions, and thus was given luxurious care and exorbitant schooling to become a most excellent companion for my Intended. Between lessons, my every whim was indulged and every wish fulfilled, until one season before my wedding, when my Hatfield fiancé suddenly died, leaving me without any support since I now served no purpose to Clan McCoy. My entire life, everyone in the clan told me I was special and destined for greatness, and now they want to throw me away! Before they could take back everything they’ve ever given me, I grabbed as much of MY stuff as I could and ran off in the middle of the night, vowing to return one day and show them how I had managed to achieve my great destiny without them. Instead of recognizing how wonderful and special I am, everyone I meet keeps calling me ridiculous or spoiled rotten, and if even one more drunk tavern customer tells me to, “Just shut up and play another song!”, I swear I’ll have Mittens, my elephant companion, squash them, even if it gets me banned from yet another tavern!
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rogue Shadar-kai Halfling, Lucky F Boone(the F stands for F*cker) a classic sticky-fingered rogue
cursed via homebrew Shadow Mastiff version of Hell Hound Cloak to be shadar-kai halfling who polymorphs into ‘shadow hound’
I was a common street urchin who made a living by lightening the purses of folks traveling through my turf of the city until the day I robbed this dandy wearing a pith helmet. He told me not to, saying something about curses, but his words were too similar to those spoken by a thousand other marks, so I ignored his warning not to don the fancy cloak I stole from him, and now.... No matter how sneaky you are, it’s really freaking hard to get away with crimes when you’re the only person in a thousand miles who looks like a walking corpse, so I had to hit the road and become a wandering thief as I try to get this godsforsaken cloak off me. My name is Lucky F Boone and I'm shadow-cursed.
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Fairy, reluctant rogueVervain Bounteous maybe a frying pan shield/club a reluctant rogue
Just months ago, I was living my dream: working as the renowned, well-esteemed head chief of an important noble household. Then I was framed for poisoning a visiting Duke and imprisoned for my so-called crime. Very recently, I escaped and am now on the run as a wanted fugitive trying to clear my name & determine who framed me & why.
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Wild Magic Sorcerer, human name TBD
I would have been accepted if my powers were normal – I mean, our village priest is a freaking tiefling, so it’s not like my village wasn’t accepting – but no one had even heard of powers like mine, and I didn’t have the best control. Still, it wasn’t until the gnolls attacked and I was able to dispatch half of them singlehandedly that my fellow villagers realized just how dangerous I was, so when the dust settled, they tearfully demanded I stay away until I could guarantee the safety of my neighbors. What’s a small town homebody forced to wander the world supposed to do but join an adventuring party.
OR
I’ve always had strange powers, and always hide them from the superstitious yokels in my village, until the day the gnolls attacked. I was able to dispatch half of them singlehandedly and my fellow villagers took care of the rest, but when the dust had settled, they turned their pitchforks my way and demanded I leave.
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and here's my darkest two:
Tiefling, paladin Sabezian 'Bezi' Noone Oath of Vengeance or Oath of Glory
Before my birth, the name chosen for me was Sebastian Kerredy del Teuscher von Brundāis III of Korenth, then I was born a tiefling. They threw me away to avoid confirming that the rumors concerning the royal family’s dark dealings were true, and then stole me back and mutilated my body a decade later so I could impersonate my dead, twin human brother. A decade later, with the wail of my newborn brother ringing in his ears, I was forced to flee for my life and vowed that, one day, through vengeance or justice, I would stand on the Brundāis throne and rule Korenth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Changling, fighter Bruce the Brute (is Bruce a Giff?) he might be crazy, but he's definitely broken
As a toddler, my parents recognized the uniqueness of my abilities and patriotically entrusted my care to the military and my future to ensure the continued greatness of the Emperor. Brainwashed extremist? Hah! They gifted me with a purpose by training me and then sending me behind enemy lines in deep cover! I excelled for years until I grew too cocky and got caught, interrogated, and then thrown in a fighting pit as that night's entertainment. I barely managed to kill my opponent with innate fighting skill I didn't realize I had, but still would've died that night had the pit champion not liked the idea of having a changeling for a bunk *****. He nursed me back to health, taught me to fight, introduced me to more than a few experiences that offended me, and even more new concepts & ideas that shattered my world perspective, and then the bastard died during a mass prison escape. Doubting everything I thought I knew, purposeless and adrift for the first time in my life, I assumed his identity and now wander the land as I try to figure out who I am and what I want in life.
My father was a dwarf with delusions of grandeur. My mother was the unlucky aarakocra caught by his sellswords to be forcibly bred at his leisure. She managed, eventually, to break free of her chains and escape back to her home, but not before becoming pregnant with me.
The shaman ignored my mother’s pleas to be rid of me because our colony was small and he believed she would grow to love me in time, despite her vows of enmity, but he was wrong. My mother could not love the child born of her ****, the spawn of the man who murdered her parents, mate, and brother. She was unwilling to even incubate me and my egg was given to a childless couple. Unfortunately, my mother’s hatred only grew with time, she went from being unable to tolerate my presence to being unwilling to tolerate my existence.
I still remember that day so vividly: I was lying on the soft grass, my wings still small and covered in down, playing with toys of stitched cloth and carved wood when the angry lady who only ever looked at me with glares landed beside me. She scooped me up and took flight, telling me why she always glared at me as we flew, and then, when we were high over the forest and far from the colony nest, let me go. I fell and fell and fell. I tried to use my wings to glide just as I had been taught, but I’d only been given two lessons so far, and my wings were far too small and my muscles far too underdeveloped to make a difference. My fluffy, down-covered body smashed through many branches on my way down until hitting the ground as a broken, scarred.
Nearby druids heard my screeches and came to investigate. They saved me and welcomed me into their tribe. Speaking different languages and unable to understand each other, they renamed me Sky Song, before they knew I was a crippled bird who would never fly. That’s right. They did their best to heal my mangled body and traumatized child’s soul, but they could only do so much. My body is covered in scars, mings are bent and broken, incapable of supporting flight, and the same anger that ruled my mother now festers within me also.
I don’t blame my mother; I’d hate me, too, if I were her. I simply wish she’d chosen to remove the traumatic reminder that was my daily presence by giving me directly to the druids or done a more thorough job of ending me. I am an aarakocra with no colony, a being meant for the skies yet chained to the earth. Calling what I feel ‘anger issues’ doesn’t really cover it.
I stick to the woods because new people stare at me as an object of fascination and pity. In fact, I do my best to never leave them, but my tribe needs my help. They have asked me to go on a quest for ___ and I will, because they have always made me feel accepted and welcome despite my differences, and even cried alongside me after the tribe healer admitted she could not heal me enough to fly. I will do this for them. I will risk my life, faces the inevitable hardships of the road, and endure the whispers and less-than covert glances of those I encounter, then I will return home and never leave our tribal woods again.
kobold, crystal; wizard of Graviturgy or Evocation school (to emphasize the DRAGON-ness of her presumed heritage could be a Draconic bloodline Sorcerer. To emphasize the CRYSTAL-ness of her unusual coloration, could be Aberrant Mind sorcerer.)
Daja was a shy kobold with humble aspirations and simple desires, but it seemed everyone around her had plans and goals for her that had nothing to do with what she wanted:
Her mentor wanted her to use her arcane skills to rise through the ranks of the clan
Her clanmates wanted her unusual coloration to mean she would be the next clan leader or shaman
The shaman wanted her to perform the duties & rites overseen by their dying priest
The dying priest wanted his niece to inherit his position instead of Daja
The clan leader wanted her dead because he felt threaten by the unwanted popularity that her intelligence, arcane aptitude, and crystal scales garnered her
The head of the neighboring gnoll tribe wanted to turn her scales into a fancy cloak that would be gifted to a goblin chief to cement their new alliance
Daja didn’t learn about those last two goals until it was almost too late and barely escaped the trap set for her. She ran for her life, with only the contents of her pockets to help her survive her travels, and headed for the only place that would be safe from her own kind, gnolls, goblins, and the monsters of the wilds: the nearest humanoid city.
I think her new adventuring party ends up rescuing her from a travelling merchant, who is keeping her locked in a cage, tearing off her scales to sell, and displaying her for money like she was a circus exhibit. Her mouth tied shut so she can’t speak spells, and her glue/pine sap/tar-covered hands are wrapped in tied-shut component pouches so she can’t sign/trace spells.
Born in 1486 DR in Zhentil Keep, Maledict [MALAY-dict] made his very first kill on the lap of his dying mother. With unknown father or family, he was immediately placed in a Zentish orphanage, being rejected from the very first day of his life. At a young age, the orphan was given to the local temple, the Black Altar of Bane, being too turbulent and vengeful to others, facing another rejection. During his teenage, Maledict followed Bane’s clerical teachings but ended up rejected yet again by the Banites, unable to cast cantrips and be full cleric, being doomed to never be anything more than half spellcaster.
Maledict then enrolled as a Zentilar soldier, getting up to marshal rank, a city law official having charge of prisoners or fugitives, to bring them back to justice or execute them for those wanted dead, or alive, preferring the former than the latter. Ready to do the dirty work, Maledict did many public executions with his long axe and black hood. As a headsman, he understood the difference between an executioner and a cut-throat was only which side of the law they stood, both having the contract to kill people from the criminal underworld or the authorities.
Maledict was recently decommissioned following disciplinary measures due to his orientation not accepted by Zentilar and was once again rejected. He finally left his home town with a chip on his shoulder’s badge, mad against the world, vowing enmity and cursing at anyone who’d stand in his way with his reknown Zentish accent.
Now a loyal but ruthless axe-for-hire, Maledict headed to the Dalelands, looking for mercenary work and offering his service as executioner or bounty hunter for any fugitive wanted dead, or alive. Looking for a new start elsewhere, ready to experience new adventures and perhaps find people that would accept him how he is rather than reject him.
Aramis was born to a rather unique set of circumstances. His father, a human named William Jaeger one night was performing at a local bar now long forgotten in the annals of time with fellow band members. His ability with a lute was well known amongst the patrons and attracted all strands of people to visit and watch him play. One night he caught the eyes of a beautiful cloaked woman in the bar, her eyes as blue as the sea and as bright as the moon. Her name was Evelyn Rose and she was a vampire. Life went on for the two both happy and free regardless of the difference in race Until one fateful night against all odds Evelyn and William had a son named Aramis
They moved themselves to a remote hut on the outskirts of a small village where they began raising him. He was different then the local children, on all accounts he looked human, his hair dark and his skin paler than most however, His bright blue eyes he inherited from his mother and undeniable fangs cause local children and adults to shun him. Years had passed now into his teens he managed to make friends with the children that once shunned him through a true show of effort, helping the local farmers, fetching ingredients for the bakery and working most days with the local smith with all manners of fabrication. Life had all but seemed to be looking up for Aramis and his family. However fate had a funny way of changing one's life.
Night had set, coming back from a day long trip in the forest gathering firewood for the village which he now called home. When nearing the entrance to the forest his eyes widened as towards the place he now called home danced with the radiant glows of reds, yellows and oranges. The smell of smoke filled his nose and the screams of locals found his ears. Dropping was wood he had with only the axe left in hand he ran back towards the village. The village was a sunder, villagers lain indiscriminately everywhere most unrecognizable. Strangers of all different races, sunken eyes, and signs of depravity on their faces. Aramis felt a pain in his chest, his eyes Grew brighter feeding off the moon, he could see all that hid in the dark that night. He bared his fangs, guttural roar escaped his lips as he charged towards the strangers…..
Clothes torn, the axe now missing its head and covered in his blood and that of others he approached his family hut limping, exhausted and scorned. As he arrived he saw his father on the ground to the left of the hut, the smell of blood filled the air as the light reflected off the puddle his father lay in. His mother was arguing with a man who only gave off a sense of never ending darkness and dread. “Mo…mother..?” She stopped and turned his way flashing him a brief smile before the man attacked swiftly without mercy his mothers head rolled toward him, her smile never leaving her face. The stranger turned toward Aramis and grimaced “Abomination” He was too fast to react, Aramis was filled with overwhelming dread that he was going to die that night. As the blade stretched out to pierce his chest he closed his eyes. He felt the blade penetrate his shoulder as a large weight suddenly held him down. Opening his eyes briefly he found his father overlooking him with the same smile on his face as his mothers. He had deflected the blade by sacrificing himself. His heart was pierced and had little time left in this world. Coughing a few times as the blood trickled from his mouth he whispered softly. “ Survive my son and grow strong, do not fear the night.” With that the Stranger pulled sharply on the blade rearing for another thrust when by fate's twist the sun began to rise. With a hiss the stranger disappeared into the darkness that remained. Aramis had no strength left to move, his injuries had taken hold, he was bleeding out. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to sob, no words would come out. In that moment the blood of his father dripped into his mouth. His chest grew tight, his senses sharpened, his muscles twitched and the pain was so unrelenting and he passed out.
Taken to a nearby camp, he was fed, clothed and questioned about what had occurred. He barely spoke a word, he himself wasn't really sure what had happened. They kept him in a tent alone under watchful eye, fed 3 meals a day but something odd was happening. Even though he had eaten, his hunger became more fierce as the day went on. Finally snarling at those who came nearby they chained him and left him outside. Days, weeks, months had passed, his mind broken, constantly dreaming of that fateful night. Finally it all changed when he was approached by a young wizard Kulin Eshan and a grizzled Knight Doran Gilfry. Kulin opened a tonic and mixed in a familiar smell, blood, but not human blood that of a pig or so the story goes. With Doran holding Aramis down the wizard poured the tonic mixture down his throat and jumped back. His body convulsed then stopped, his mind returned and that was when he was finally informed of who and what he was.
Now under the supervision of both Kulin and Doran Aramis began life anew, learning the art of the sword, and the knowledge and history of the region. He learned that night that the strangers he had killed in the village were simply thralls of a vampire lord who had raided the village for food. He learned his mother was once part of a Noble Vampire family who had earlier in her life been overthrown by the stranger who attacked that night, presumably looking for her as the final member of the blood line. A blood line that now lastly resides in you. With that Aramis took his training seriously, mastering the sword day in and day out, learning the realm of monsters and how to defeat them. Years had gone by and Aramis had reached adulthood, slaying monsters along his travels with the pair after the order disbanded. But reality started to kick in, everyone around him aged but he stayed the same, just another curse his lineage truly brought. Kulin and Doran have passed now, both buried overlooking the ocean, 20 years had passed since then and Aramis continues to look the same, now onto a new adventure with hopes to prevent what happened to his village many decades ago from happening again, and to hunt down the monsters that make those fear at night.
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wow those are long backstories mine is this
I was born in the forest with a twin sister named Ea. We were raised in a temple where everybody was trying to remove our infernal heritage, they failed of course, multiple temples tried, they all failed it was annoying but not everybody is that bad, like my sister and a few close friends. I became an acolyte asking for ways to remove my legacy and also I lived there so what else do I do. While I was asking the gods to help me my dad said he would and so he became my patron. I was living out my normal life when I teleported into a place with no idea how i got there, and I took it as telling me my life would never be the same, I never saw Ea but I got married with a woman named Seddit who is a neutral good tiefling soldier who is perfectly fine with the fact that she is a tiefling and we might get kids.
tiefling warlock in first person
I am leader of the yep cult:https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/82135-yep-cult Pronouns are she/her
Ive got a couple that I like enough to post. Both for warlocks.
Here's the backstory for a warlock using my homebrewed Feytouched Tiefling race.
And the son of a dwarven lord whose clan was displaced from its home generations ago.
Very cool! I love the idea of two brothers in a party. :)
Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken.
Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing.
Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan.
Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer.
Plays god on Saturdays.
My backstories are much shorter than these. xD
For my first campaign, I played a character named Maximilian. He was left on the steps of an orphanage as a baby and doesn't know who his parents are. The orphanage was a terrible place, but at least one of his caretakers was kind and caring, and taught him his morals. But around the time he turned ten, she disappeared, and soon it was unbearable.
So he ran away, but he barely survived in the streets. After a while, he made his way to the countryside, where he worked on a farm for a while. But when he found out the farmer's daughter had a crush on him, he panicked and fled (he's ace). So then he decided to join a ship's crew, but ended up on a pirate ship.
He didn't like that at all, not wanting to do bad things, but he couldn't do anything about it for a long time. Until one day, a fleet of pirate ships was going to attack a town, and was waiting out of sight for nightfall. He slipped into the sea when no one was looking, swam ashore, and ran to the town to warn the people there. As a result, they drove off the pirates.
After that, he was adopted by a wizard from the town, who taught him the basics of spellcasting, before sending him to a university to complete his studies. After his first year there, he was framed by a rival and expelled. It was at that desperate time that one of his professors asked a favor of him, and before long, he was neck deep in his first perilous adventure.
Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken.
Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing.
Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan.
Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer.
Plays god on Saturdays.
I like it. It's short, to the point, and sets up plenty of hooks for the DM to run with.
Now please allow me to follow that up with my 22-page backstory that's too long to post in a forum comment.
You can read it here.
The sparks note version is as follows:
In the years following his father's disappearance, Carter Brightpine took up the mantle of Ranger Lord for the Eilreids Valley. It was his duty to care for the valley and the people who made it their home, as well as defend it from roving bands of orcs and goblins common to the area. One day, while out on patrol, Carter discovered a war-camp in the high mountains, but before he could get back to the valley to warn the villagers, he was caught in a landslide. By the time Carter awoke, the war-band, led by Molaak'Tok and his werewolf bodyguards, had already made their attack and moved on. Upon returning to his lordly manor, Carter learned that his mother and pregnant wife were killed in the attack. His eight-year-old daughter was nowhere to be found. Haunted by the deaths he could have prevented, Carter now lives in self-imposed exile, on a neverending hunt for Molaak'Tok and his warband.
"When I finally find a pen I have nothing to say..." ~Some graffiti I found once.
Thanks! Yours is great, too! Way more tragic than mine even. Maybe a merciful DM would let his daughter be alive somewhere ...
Good luck in your hunt for Molaak Tok!
Maximilian "Mad Max" Oceanus, transmutation wizard, best known for being on the team that saved the universe from Kozelak's infinite hunger, and also an avenger of the Unspoken.
Olaf Ericsson, a jolly ranger with a bit of an anger problem. Also likes to sing.
Yaethel Akeelan, a druid with a plan; a very, very big plan.
Damien Rook, full time author, part time adventurer.
Plays god on Saturdays.
My druid's backstory is humongous, with a whole kingdom and history written around him. ^^ But the main part of it:
The Aldalire family is the most influential, wealthy and powerful noble family in the wood elf kingdom of Lomalos, constantly vying for royal favor against their nearest rivals, the Vithan family. Celelia Aldalire was the wife of the third (and therefore unnecessary) child of the head of the family, and already had three entirely unnecessary children of her own. When it became known that the queen was expecting, Celelia thought that she could increase her political status by having a fourth (extremely unnecessary) child and bonding with the queen by being pregnant together. Since the queen was a hardcore ranger and spent most of her pregnancy patrolling the borders and fighting troll incursions, this turned out to be a grave miscalculation.
The child was born and given the child name of Ondo. Since he represented a complete failure at gaining influence, his mother soon lost what little interest she had in him (his father never had any at all) and he was turned over to the servants to raise. He was the same age as the youngest prince, though, and so was frequently summoned to the castle to be one of the prince's companions and playmates.
Ondo's grandmother, Avalêhen, the head of the family, decided he could still be useful. When he was around seven years old, she and Ondo's uncles began training him ceaselessly to be the family's eyes and ears in the castle, and to curry favor for the Aldalires and undermine the Vithans. He was relentlessly trained in archery, dragonchess, dancing, diplomacy, swordsmanship, and every skill a courtier would need to be a perfect companion to the prince. He was taught that he must always be just one step behind the prince: to always kill just one less animal than the prince while hunting: to let him win Dragonchess only after a hard struggle: to come in second to the prince when horse-racing, etc. To be certain of securing his second place and never accidentally outshining the prince, Ondo must be a true master of every court skill.
Unfortunately for the family, Ondo had a mind of his own. He was not very sociable, and hated court pastimes. He was a quiet child who liked to putter in the garden, walk in the forest, and read books about botany. The prince was rowdy and adventurous and wanted to play war games and sports and get into kinds of mischief that terrified Ondo, and Ondo began to avoid his company, hiding in the castle library or garden while the prince played with other companions. Ondo did not want to be the Aldalires' spy on the royal Lithelon family, because the royal family treated him with more kindness and respect than his own family did: he felt that the princes and princess were his own siblings, much more than his real siblings were: and saw the king and queen as the parents he wished he could have had. As for undermining the Vithans, while Ondo loathed many of them, he loathed the Aldalires equally as much.
The only thing that kept Ondo in line at all over the years was the fear that, if he ever offended the prince or royal family, he would be banished from the castle forever and forced to live a life of failure and disgrace in the Aldalire estate under his disapproving grandmother's iron thumb. (Actually, the Lithelons saw him as a valuable asset, an ally within the Aldalire family, a friend, and a good lesson in diplomacy for the hotheaded younger prince, so he was never in real danger of being sent away.) So for decades, Ondo remained the Prince's reluctant companion, joining his hunts (until he could slip away into the forest to study plant life) attending palace balls (until he could sneak off to the library) and generally remaining an oddball hanger-on of the royal family.
When Ondo was about sixty-five years old, Talos Vithan, the ancient druid who maintained the kingdom's sacred grove, became ill and nearly died. When he recovered, the king ordered him to choose and train a successor. Avalêhen Aldalire decided she had finally found a use for her useless, botany-loving grandson, and the Aldalire family mobilized, taking every opportunity to promote Ondo for the position and to undermine potential rivals, and twisting Ondo's arm into being introduced to the High Druid.
When Ondo reached the sacred grove (his grandmother had not been allowed to accompany him) Talos Vithan greeted him warmly. He said that the sacred Naranda tree always chose the new High Druid, and that it had actually chosen Ondo as the successor several decades ago. There had just never seemed any urgency about informing him of that fact. Ondo could move into the sacred grove and begin his training any time he liked.
When he returned to the Aldalire estate, Avalêhen was delighted at the news and began discussing how having an Aldalire in the position of High Druid would benefit the family. Ondo informed her that he had no intention of showing preference to the Aldalires, and that the position of High Druid was politically neutral, and he was now completely independent. If he served anyone but the High Druid and sacred tree, it was the royal family. After a long and bitter argument, Ondo left the mansion forever, burning his certificate of nobility and throwing his family signet ring away,
He moved into the sacred grove, free from his family and their demands, free from the need to placate the prince, free from the fear of being banished from the royal castle. To celebrate his change of life and position, even though only sixty-five years old, he took his adult name of Edeleth, 'Elf set free,' and began training with High Druid Vithan.
His appointment caused a political firestorm. In the three thousand years since the kingdom was founded, every High Druid but one (a Lithelon) had been a Vithan, descended from the druid who had originally helped capture the valley from the evil wizard Grimmerang. The Vithans were furious, and whatever triumph the Aldalires still felt over one of their own family being given a traditionally Vithan position shortly came to a furious end, as the king soothed the Vithans by appointing one of their number as Royal Treasurer, a position that was nearly always awarded to an Aldalire.
Edeleth was content to stay almost constantly within the sacred grove, avoiding his own angry and disappointed family as well as the furious Vithans, and learning the secrets of the druids. The royal family visited the grove often enough, and he still attended royal functions, when he had to (usually as the proxy or companion of the High Druid, so nobody dared to be completely disrespectful to him) so he was still able to maintain the only relationships that mattered to him. He spent eighty years learning from Talos Vithan and tending the sacred grove, and by the end of it, he knew every tree, leaf, animal, and blade of grass that lived within the grove.
The Sacred Naranda tree was the only known one of its kind: it had been found in the castle garden after Grimmerang had been defeated, and some speculated that he had created it himself, or brought it from some unknown plane or an odd corner of the Feywild. It was a huge, beautiful, sentient tree with oak-like leaves, and bark streaked with flame colors. In spring it blossomed in great red flowers, and in late summer it offered a bountiful harvest of large, orange-red, oblong fruits, sweet and spicy and with an oddly smokey flavor.
The tree was at least three thousand years old: and like High Druid Talos Vithan, it could not live forever. Nobody had ever succeeded in getting one of its seeds to sprout, or a cutting to take root. Talos had spent his life experimenting with propagation techniques, and had at last found a way to make the Naranda's cuttings viable. He prepared a hundred tree cuttings to be planted elsewhere. King Celairatar saw this as not only a chance to spread the growth of Naranda trees, but as away to cement friendships with allied nations, by offering them the gift of the sacred trees.
Someone had to carry the cuttings and be responsible for their planting. Edeleth was given the task. He agreed to be the guardian of the sacred tree's children and find them new homes, hoping that it would not take long and that he would return to his mentor and beloved sacred grove before too long.
It wasn't until things began to go wrong and his adventures started that he began to realize that his journey was not only about the trees: it was apparently the next step in his training to become the next High Druid of Lomalos.
Edeleth Treesong (Aldalire) Wood Elf Druid lvl 8 Talaveroth Sub 2
Last Tree Standing Tabaxi Ranger, Chef and Hoardsperson lvl 5, Company of the Dragon Team 1
Choir Kenku Cleric, Tempest Domain, lvl 11, Descent Into Avernus Test Drive
Poinki Goblin Paladin, Redemption, lvl 5, Tales from Talaveroth
Lyrika Nyx Satyr Bard lvl 1, The Six Kingdoms of Talia
Let me see, I'm playing two characters right now.
On Sundays I play as Sparks the tiefling storm sorcerer in a homebrew game. She was part of a tribe of Levistus tieflings that was kidnapped by a Cult of the Dragon mad scientist/wizard and subjected to energies from some amulets connected to the Elemental Planes. Sparks escaped the lab when a bunch of orcs attacked and joined the adventuring company Honeydew Solutions.
On Fridays I play Storm King's Thunder as Greta Van Tuskgrinder the dwarf barbarian. She was a dwarf soldier who fought against the Cult of the Dragon during the events of Rise of Tiamat. She lost her temper during a battle one day, which may have caused her to lose the battle against a Wearer of the Purple. She was so embarrassed after the event that she moved to the surface to do mercenary work. He rage helps her with fighting up there, and she's take the path of the Battlerager to connect with her heritage.
So yeah, neither of these people have super long backstories, but it fits since they both started at low levels. The reason both of them have backstories connected to the Cult of the Dragon is because I DMed Tyranny of Dragons and I thought it'd be fun to make that connection. The SKT group is actually the same group I ran HoDQ/RoT with, but with me as a player.
Hombrew: Way of Wresting, Circle of Sacrifice
When Neriah was brought into the world she had no resemblance of a Tiefling Father nor Mother. Slowly emerging from the ground there was a beautiful yet horrid sight to behold, the grass died all around turning black, as the ground became space and stars all around, changing the very Plain around her into a Dark Void, the magnificent vibrant of violent and empty space of black had a comforting side and yet a horrifying truth Found by a beautiful Elven couple she overtime seemed to adapt their appearance. Her other family was her step sister Nymeria and her Celestial Wolf ¨Ama¨. Neriah grew to deeply love music and Sword Combat, and with her strange space bending abilities she formed many instruments and weapons she kept close and personal naming them all. Not all were instruments however, her favorite was a shape shifting creature named ¨Thea Nailo¨ Usually taking forms of animals, when Neriah needed comforting Neriah would transform into a guitar and set a beautiful blaze in a night sky. While the other was a extension of Neriahs very soul a longsword she names Forsaken, which was light to her and it grew in power over the years. Neriah and her charm, hooked her father closer as he grew to understand his Neriahs importance, as a her Mother saw the child as Hell-spawn and a Threat, growing to hate her child for every event that grew, keeping it to herself mostly. When Neriah was 6 she was speaking words only a Devil would understand and in the corner of her dark room was a shadowy figure with only three eyes, she argued with it at times, and seemed haunted by it even. But she also developed friends seemingly, the most notable one is one named ¨Solo¨ it quite literally taught her crafting and other important things of life. Her father and mother listened in on these conversations and the most important thing they kept in mind was Solo claims to remember nothing of his past life and knows he does not belong to this world. As the Dark alien that spawned in her room claims she is the most important piece of a puzzle and was Destined to travel the stars. Over the days and nights, she kept the mind of survival and crafty personality even nerdy from This ¨Artificer¨ known as Solo, while she kept the motivation and thought of Journey from the Fallen God that has many names, most notably ¨The Nebula¨ When Neriah, Nymeria, Ama went off in a journey across the plains and rivers, they traveled into a cave out of child's wonder and curiosity, Nymeria was resistant at first but she was tempted by Neriahs courage in the Darkness and Amas persistance. The three found a old Tree Creature that went by a simple name. ¨Bearer¨. He kept them company through fun in illusions, whatever they imagined he summoned, they often visited him until one day Neriah let Nebula take control and spawned a unimaginable monster one that struck fear into the hearts of all three. Nymeria was broken from this, and unable to keep a stable mind ever since. While Ama kept away from Neriah. And that never visited Bearer again, and later the tree that was growing near him died, and the cave collapsed into nothing but a damaged surface. When they came home after the event, they could barely get back home as the forest and river were set into a hellfire blaze, and when they did managed to escape nearly dead they turned and saw nothing more but a normal forest. Neriah´s imagination was nearly at fault once more. Her parents said nothing at first but in Nemeria´s sleep she was almost killed by her Mother who went mad over the very thought of her Devil Daughter and tried to use Nemeria´s own Blanket to suffocate her, but Neriah blew her mother through a wall somehow still able to walk ash took Ama and tried to get away with Nymeria as well. As the home was burning into ashes her Father tried to take her hand and save her from her own Destruction but Nebula appeared and killed him slowly through burning torture, breaking his mind with the use of illusions laughing as he saw Neriah set ablaze screaming in pain. Neriah escaped her home Unscathed and ran into the rest of her family in the burning woods, and her mother tried to shoot her with a pistol and only managed to fail Neriah deflecting it instantly with Forsaken. Neriah finally stated. ¨I loved you, until you Forsaked me, its why I named this sword that. I will do what I must now Mother, take care in the seven hells.¨ Her mother kept shooting but bullets dodged Neriah easily and they formed behind her ready to fire right back at her mother. And finally she killed her Mother, slitting her throat with Forsaken and leaving Ama and Nymeria untouched. She later eventually found Civilization after walking aimlessly for 5 years. 11 year old Neriah almost broken, she lost her Elven beauty and turned more tiefling eventually developing horns. All of her tools followed her and as well a Solo and Nebula. The City called named her the ¨Promised Devil¨ The church took her in to give her a education and tame the angels and demons inside, while the Military and Mages Guild took her in to tame her powers yet welcome her as family. She obtained hardly any friends and was nearly outcasted by all. She spent most of her time in the Library and causing trouble at royal dinner parties. After years of experience she binded the soul of her friend Thea and her some of her instruments into a magnificence Hybrid Shotgun named ¨Note¨. But Trouble lies ahead and as well as a future, the pull to the light and darkness is strong
I haven’t played in a while, but I’ve always been a huge lore nerd. I spent an hour or so just thinking up of a character that I’d like to eventually play. So!
here is my idea for a Warforged Armourer Artificer:
Klarth Dramath (steel being in dwarvish)
A mad Dwarvish Arch-Artificer named Melnar SparkForge was hired to build a machine of war for the military of a great kingdom. Melnar was known to be fond of electricity, and enjoyed using the element to create. He lived his life by 3 words of great importance to him: Live, Adapt, Evolve. In but 11 days, Melnar managed to create something unlike the military had ever seen. A warforged. A humanoid being made of metal, rock and wood. Strong, resilient, and above all, lethal. Melnar became obsessed with his creation, even giving it a name. Engraved down it’s left arm, the word “Klarth” and down its right, “Dramath”. Together meaning “Steel Being” in his native tongue. He passed along the machine. Equipped with a retractable shield on its left arm, a retractable long sword on its other, as well as its right arm being an Arcane Propulsion Arm. Melnar promised his machine would make winning the war easy. However, what Melnar failed to mention was that Klarth Dramath was not just a robot. It was not, just a machine. In the final stages of its creation, Melnar imbued the object with a life giving magic, giving Klarth Dramath sentience. This spell was set deep within the machines chest cavity in the form of a crystal. This crystal none-like any other, acts as a brain, capable of feeling, thinking, observing, learning, and every other aspect of what it means to be “alive”. This crystal, which in itself IS Klarth Dramath, sits deep within its shell of metal and wood. The crystal was set to lay dormant inside the war machines body, patiently waiting for the time in which to activate. This day took place decades after the war that ravaged the world had come to an end. This war would later be known as “The Last War”. On this very particular day, it’s creator, Melnar SparkForge, lost his life. The machine, damaged and weak, woke in the ruins of a long forgotten kingdom which had fell in the war.
Klarth awoke with no memory of its past, knowing nothing but 3 simple words. Words that would guide its life until the end of time.
Live.
Adapt.
Evolve.
Name: Zindureth, Harbinger of Storms
Race: Dracoblood Dragonborn (Blue)
Class: Path of the Storm Herald Barbarian (Sea)
Background: Outlander
Backstory: Zindureth wasn't born a Dragonborn, but rather a mighty Blue Dragon itself! Leaving the nest at a young and brash age, he stalked a lair of a Bulette and by using his cunning, lured a group of weak adventurers into battle with the mighty beast. The adventurers, no match for the monster were quickly slain, but not before weakening the Bulette to a point in which Zindureth could hunt it. After an epic struggle, the Bulette laid slain and Zindureth taking the adventurer's spoils set up his lair at the base of the mountains adjacent to the great desert. He kept the skeleton of the Bulette as a warning to those who approached his cave. By the nature of his being, the very air began to crackle with electricity and soon the Plains of Eternal Storm became a location marked on many maps.
That did not dissuade adventurers however. Wave after wave, they came storming his home, and week after week his hoard grew. So when a single Blue Dragonborn arrived alone, his puny frame suggesting a scholar of sorts, Zindureth in his arrogance, let down his guard. The Dragonborn spoke of studying the great blue dragon wyrmling, to regale tales of his ferocity. Zindureth absorbed every word, and greedily accepted the approaching Dragonborn. Zindueth was taught of the usefulness of magic practitioners and was excited to accept his first follower. In but a brief moment, the Dragonborn flashed a crystallize jar made of Dragonshard, and Zindureth felt a tugging sensation before fading to black.
When he awoke, he was lying in the middle of the Fields, thunder booming overhead. He attempted to spread his wings any fly to his den, and felt nothing. He checked his claws and discovered fragile nails where once was talons. With panic settling it he rushed back wobbly on two legs back to his cave, to discover it empty. A single glint of a gem covered in layers of dust caught his eye. Hurriedly he rushed towards it and peering at the reflective surface, he spied the very face of the cowardly Dragonborn peering back at him. Zindureth's eyes burned with a hate hotter than any lightning, he vowed in an ancient tongue that he will get his body back no matter what it took and that weakling who had the audacity to steal his form from him will pay. Breaking off part of the jawbone from the Bulette corpse, he took off towards the nearest settlement to find the trail of the coward and begin the hunt again.
Flavor: When Zindureth Rages it appears as though his draconic spirit is straining against the body he inhibits which causes the electrical bursts for this Storm Aura.
Mechanical:
Hero Forge Reference: https://www.heroforge.com/load_config=6787479/
My Artificer (4th lvl)
Asudak came from a faraway land where he and some fellow scholars ventured to find the perfection they can never achieve, but get closer to every day. They split up, and for 3 years he travelled searching for knowledge until one day he found an advanced city with technology like none other. Asudak then studied there and became an artificer, finally leaving to pursue knowledge and to improve himself. He made himself magical armour (THAT'S DEFINITELY NOT IRON MAN COPY NOPE) and a bag of holding to help carry everything.
link:
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/BALLISTICGAMER1543/characters/44657255
Name: Grynn the Sanguine
Race: Damphir (UA) [Gnoll]
Class: Barbarian
Background: Haunted One
Born and raised to a typical Gnoll tribe, Grynn was destructive, devious, vindictive, and sadistic. Known for their patience and cunning, the Crimson Fang tribe was the undisputed top of the food chain, his tribe ruled their territory with an iron, and bloody, fist. That all changed when a nest of vampires invaded the territory, and killed or turned the entire tribe. None remained living. When that happened, the nest became a destructive force of Chaos, Pain, and Death. They swept the countryside like a plague of demonic locusts, killing, turning, and
enslaving hundreds before their deeds attracted the attention of the Company of the Blue Blade, adventurers of great renown.
The final battle was epic by any measure, the entire nest of vampires destroyed and brought to dust; but not before the last inflicted mortal wounds on the company. In the end, neither group remained among the living. In a great fit of despair, The Raven Queen, decided that something must be done. Seeking among the fallen, she chose her servant carefully. He would be a creature of death and shadow, reforged into an instrument of life and balance.
Newly returned to ‘life’, Grynn was sent to a distant temple of {some other deity} where he would be trained in the ways of the world, and tested to ensure he was worthy of his task. Forewarned by strange visions, the priests of the temple recognized Grynn, and though reluctant, allowed him entry and began his training. Time means little to someone of Grynn’s nature, and over the next few decades he was moulded into a potent tool for his goddess’s aims. Over the intervening years, Grynn has been summoned forth by his mistress, The Raven Queen, to rectify the abuse or misuse of Life.
A fell hunter in service of a radiant being, Grynn is a creature of darkness, but is a servant of the light. His task is to preserve the balance of life. He must end the unworthy, those who abuse life, and purify their life force, bringing worth and meaning to its continued existence; and he must preserve the life of the worthy fallen, those who exemplify life but cannot continue. To this end, he must absorb the life force of these people, either to bring it meaning and worth, or to preserve its worth and prolong it’s impact upon the world. His methods may not be for the weak of heart, or stomach, but he is always true to his task.
While a creature of nature, driven to extremes or madness, may find itself on the wrong side of Grynn’s mission, he feels great regret in ending such a life, but knows it must sometimes be done to better preserve life. Aberrations and the undead, however, are a blight upon the web of life, and must be destroyed. Grynn takes great pleasure in ending the predations of such beings, and will go to great lengths to ensure that his task is complete. The irony of his current condition in that regard has not escaped his notice.
It has been many years since he was last summoned to his duty, but fate has again intervened. Leaving the temple with his companion, {player character}, Grynn has once again stepped out into the world to bring balance against the forces chaos.
DND Beyond Build
HeroForge Reference
The young man was pacing down the long room, he had been going through the cells removing the dead and dying and bringing light to the darkness for he was a fair and just king. “I believe that is all m’lord” The area was now well-lit with braziers every 10 feet and empty save the old jailer and the young King
“What about that stretch of darkness?” The King inquired as he pointed down a dark corridor barely visible in the flickering torchlight. On any other day in the darkness, it would have been missed and continued to be forgotten. The old man raised his torch and peered into the darkness squinting, trying to discern anything in the inky black. “I don’t know, no one has ever gone down there as far as I am aware and I have been in charge of these cells for 40 years now.” The old man scratched behind his ear with a gnarled hand and reached for his office's keys.” I don’t think there is anything back that way. “The old jailer moved forward leading the way down the dark hallway.
“How long has he been in there?” The king was pacing back and forth in the cramped apartments.
“I don’t know, my King! My records only go back 315 years and there is no record of anyone being placed in that room or why.” The book the jailer was open, quickly flipping through the pages then put the old tomb back, pulling down another” There is no prisoner description that matches him in any of this.” The old man waves his hand at the rows of books on his shelves.
“I pinched a loaf of bread” There was no need to get into the specifics as his throat was still raw from nonuse even after the honeyed wine to soothe it. Unsure of how many years he had been feeding on rats and the odd creature to state his hunger and thirst. His answer is not the truth but if they are asking him why he is here then they don’t know the reason either. The torch light is too bright and he can barely make out the two figures as he squints up at them holding the cup in his lap. His clothes have long gone to dust as he waited for release. He has kept his skills active as much as he could in a 9’x9” stone cube. His body has become willowy and as hard as wood but there is only so much one could do. He might be able to take them out and escape he thought but let’s see how this plays out. They eventually released him with 130 gold pieces and a few copper pennies, a cloth shirt a tad too small, and a long strip of cloth pleated like a kilt and tied at the waist with a length of rope. They agreed to his wishes and released him as the moon rose above the horizon and for the first time in 350 years he was breathing fresh air again.
OMG! A cleric on rumspringa! I love it!!!!!!!! I'm going to make my own rumspringa character!
minotaur?, sorcerer/wizard/warlock Lynxander Welken
Once upon a time, I was a humble human who lived, and eventually died as an ordinary human soldier for my local lord. Good news is, I didn't stay dead. Bad news is, I didn't stay in my original body either. Worse news is, if I stay here, then the evil cultists trying to resurrect their dead leader (whose body I inhabit) might just succeed and bring about an apocalypse.
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Aasimar, bard Evangeline ‘Karen’ Aristos de-luca McCoy College of Glamour (she is gonna be a B!ITCH)
As a babe, I was chosen amongst all other infants in the clan for an arranged marriage to ensure continued peace between warring factions, and thus was given luxurious care and exorbitant schooling to become a most excellent companion for my Intended. Between lessons, my every whim was indulged and every wish fulfilled, until one season before my wedding, when my Hatfield fiancé suddenly died, leaving me without any support since I now served no purpose to Clan McCoy. My entire life, everyone in the clan told me I was special and destined for greatness, and now they want to throw me away! Before they could take back everything they’ve ever given me, I grabbed as much of MY stuff as I could and ran off in the middle of the night, vowing to return one day and show them how I had managed to achieve my great destiny without them. Instead of recognizing how wonderful and special I am, everyone I meet keeps calling me ridiculous or spoiled rotten, and if even one more drunk tavern customer tells me to, “Just shut up and play another song!”, I swear I’ll have Mittens, my elephant companion, squash them, even if it gets me banned from yet another tavern!
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rogue Shadar-kai Halfling, Lucky F Boone (the F stands for F*cker) a classic sticky-fingered rogue
cursed via homebrew Shadow Mastiff version of Hell Hound Cloak to be shadar-kai halfling who polymorphs into ‘shadow hound’
I was a common street urchin who made a living by lightening the purses of folks traveling through my turf of the city until the day I robbed this dandy wearing a pith helmet. He told me not to, saying something about curses, but his words were too similar to those spoken by a thousand other marks, so I ignored his warning not to don the fancy cloak I stole from him, and now.... No matter how sneaky you are, it’s really freaking hard to get away with crimes when you’re the only person in a thousand miles who looks like a walking corpse, so I had to hit the road and become a wandering thief as I try to get this godsforsaken cloak off me. My name is Lucky F Boone and I'm shadow-cursed.
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Fairy, reluctant rogue Vervain Bounteous maybe a frying pan shield/club a reluctant rogue
Just months ago, I was living my dream: working as the renowned, well-esteemed head chief of an important noble household. Then I was framed for poisoning a visiting Duke and imprisoned for my so-called crime. Very recently, I escaped and am now on the run as a wanted fugitive trying to clear my name & determine who framed me & why.
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Wild Magic Sorcerer, human name TBD
I would have been accepted if my powers were normal – I mean, our village priest is a freaking tiefling, so it’s not like my village wasn’t accepting – but no one had even heard of powers like mine, and I didn’t have the best control. Still, it wasn’t until the gnolls attacked and I was able to dispatch half of them singlehandedly that my fellow villagers realized just how dangerous I was, so when the dust settled, they tearfully demanded I stay away until I could guarantee the safety of my neighbors. What’s a small town homebody forced to wander the world supposed to do but join an adventuring party.
OR
I’ve always had strange powers, and always hide them from the superstitious yokels in my village, until the day the gnolls attacked. I was able to dispatch half of them singlehandedly and my fellow villagers took care of the rest, but when the dust had settled, they turned their pitchforks my way and demanded I leave.
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and here's my darkest two:
Tiefling, paladin Sabezian 'Bezi' Noone Oath of Vengeance or Oath of Glory
Before my birth, the name chosen for me was Sebastian Kerredy del Teuscher von Brundāis III of Korenth, then I was born a tiefling. They threw me away to avoid confirming that the rumors concerning the royal family’s dark dealings were true, and then stole me back and mutilated my body a decade later so I could impersonate my dead, twin human brother. A decade later, with the wail of my newborn brother ringing in his ears, I was forced to flee for my life and vowed that, one day, through vengeance or justice, I would stand on the Brundāis throne and rule Korenth.
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Changling, fighter Bruce the Brute (is Bruce a Giff?) he might be crazy, but he's definitely broken
As a toddler, my parents recognized the uniqueness of my abilities and patriotically entrusted my care to the military and my future to ensure the continued greatness of the Emperor. Brainwashed extremist? Hah! They gifted me with a purpose by training me and then sending me behind enemy lines in deep cover! I excelled for years until I grew too cocky and got caught, interrogated, and then thrown in a fighting pit as that night's entertainment. I barely managed to kill my opponent with innate fighting skill I didn't realize I had, but still would've died that night had the pit champion not liked the idea of having a changeling for a bunk *****. He nursed me back to health, taught me to fight, introduced me to more than a few experiences that offended me, and even more new concepts & ideas that shattered my world perspective, and then the bastard died during a mass prison escape. Doubting everything I thought I knew, purposeless and adrift for the first time in my life, I assumed his identity and now wander the land as I try to figure out who I am and what I want in life.
Full Name: Sky Song Kleetk
Birthname: Kleetk Druid Name: Sky Song
Prefers to go by: Song
half-dwarf Aarakocra, barbarian
My father was a dwarf with delusions of grandeur. My mother was the unlucky aarakocra caught by his sellswords to be forcibly bred at his leisure. She managed, eventually, to break free of her chains and escape back to her home, but not before becoming pregnant with me.
The shaman ignored my mother’s pleas to be rid of me because our colony was small and he believed she would grow to love me in time, despite her vows of enmity, but he was wrong. My mother could not love the child born of her ****, the spawn of the man who murdered her parents, mate, and brother. She was unwilling to even incubate me and my egg was given to a childless couple. Unfortunately, my mother’s hatred only grew with time, she went from being unable to tolerate my presence to being unwilling to tolerate my existence.
I still remember that day so vividly: I was lying on the soft grass, my wings still small and covered in down, playing with toys of stitched cloth and carved wood when the angry lady who only ever looked at me with glares landed beside me. She scooped me up and took flight, telling me why she always glared at me as we flew, and then, when we were high over the forest and far from the colony nest, let me go. I fell and fell and fell. I tried to use my wings to glide just as I had been taught, but I’d only been given two lessons so far, and my wings were far too small and my muscles far too underdeveloped to make a difference. My fluffy, down-covered body smashed through many branches on my way down until hitting the ground as a broken, scarred.
Nearby druids heard my screeches and came to investigate. They saved me and welcomed me into their tribe. Speaking different languages and unable to understand each other, they renamed me Sky Song, before they knew I was a crippled bird who would never fly. That’s right. They did their best to heal my mangled body and traumatized child’s soul, but they could only do so much. My body is covered in scars, mings are bent and broken, incapable of supporting flight, and the same anger that ruled my mother now festers within me also.
I don’t blame my mother; I’d hate me, too, if I were her. I simply wish she’d chosen to remove the traumatic reminder that was my daily presence by giving me directly to the druids or done a more thorough job of ending me. I am an aarakocra with no colony, a being meant for the skies yet chained to the earth. Calling what I feel ‘anger issues’ doesn’t really cover it.
I stick to the woods because new people stare at me as an object of fascination and pity. In fact, I do my best to never leave them, but my tribe needs my help. They have asked me to go on a quest for ___ and I will, because they have always made me feel accepted and welcome despite my differences, and even cried alongside me after the tribe healer admitted she could not heal me enough to fly. I will do this for them. I will risk my life, faces the inevitable hardships of the road, and endure the whispers and less-than covert glances of those I encounter, then I will return home and never leave our tribal woods again.
Daja Shreeve
kobold, crystal; wizard of Graviturgy or Evocation school (to emphasize the DRAGON-ness of her presumed heritage could be a Draconic bloodline Sorcerer. To emphasize the CRYSTAL-ness of her unusual coloration, could be Aberrant Mind sorcerer.)
Daja was a shy kobold with humble aspirations and simple desires, but it seemed everyone around her had plans and goals for her that had nothing to do with what she wanted:
Daja didn’t learn about those last two goals until it was almost too late and barely escaped the trap set for her. She ran for her life, with only the contents of her pockets to help her survive her travels, and headed for the only place that would be safe from her own kind, gnolls, goblins, and the monsters of the wilds: the nearest humanoid city.
I think her new adventuring party ends up rescuing her from a travelling merchant, who is keeping her locked in a cage, tearing off her scales to sell, and displaying her for money like she was a circus exhibit. Her mouth tied shut so she can’t speak spells, and her glue/pine sap/tar-covered hands are wrapped in tied-shut component pouches so she can’t sign/trace spells.
Maledict, LE Human Paladin of Bane
Born in 1486 DR in Zhentil Keep, Maledict [MALAY-dict] made his very first kill on the lap of his dying mother. With unknown father or family, he was immediately placed in a Zentish orphanage, being rejected from the very first day of his life. At a young age, the orphan was given to the local temple, the Black Altar of Bane, being too turbulent and vengeful to others, facing another rejection. During his teenage, Maledict followed Bane’s clerical teachings but ended up rejected yet again by the Banites, unable to cast cantrips and be full cleric, being doomed to never be anything more than half spellcaster.
Maledict then enrolled as a Zentilar soldier, getting up to marshal rank, a city law official having charge of prisoners or fugitives, to bring them back to justice or execute them for those wanted dead, or alive, preferring the former than the latter. Ready to do the dirty work, Maledict did many public executions with his long axe and black hood. As a headsman, he understood the difference between an executioner and a cut-throat was only which side of the law they stood, both having the contract to kill people from the criminal underworld or the authorities.
Maledict was recently decommissioned following disciplinary measures due to his orientation not accepted by Zentilar and was once again rejected. He finally left his home town with a chip on his shoulder’s badge, mad against the world, vowing enmity and cursing at anyone who’d stand in his way with his reknown Zentish accent.
Now a loyal but ruthless axe-for-hire, Maledict headed to the Dalelands, looking for mercenary work and offering his service as executioner or bounty hunter for any fugitive wanted dead, or alive. Looking for a new start elsewhere, ready to experience new adventures and perhaps find people that would accept him how he is rather than reject him.
Aramis was born to a rather unique set of circumstances. His father, a human named William Jaeger one night was performing at a local bar now long forgotten in the annals of time with fellow band members. His ability with a lute was well known amongst the patrons and attracted all strands of people to visit and watch him play. One night he caught the eyes of a beautiful cloaked woman in the bar, her eyes as blue as the sea and as bright as the moon. Her name was Evelyn Rose and she was a vampire. Life went on for the two both happy and free regardless of the difference in race Until one fateful night against all odds Evelyn and William had a son named Aramis
They moved themselves to a remote hut on the outskirts of a small village where they began raising him. He was different then the local children, on all accounts he looked human, his hair dark and his skin paler than most however, His bright blue eyes he inherited from his mother and undeniable fangs cause local children and adults to shun him. Years had passed now into his teens he managed to make friends with the children that once shunned him through a true show of effort, helping the local farmers, fetching ingredients for the bakery and working most days with the local smith with all manners of fabrication. Life had all but seemed to be looking up for Aramis and his family. However fate had a funny way of changing one's life.
Night had set, coming back from a day long trip in the forest gathering firewood for the village which he now called home. When nearing the entrance to the forest his eyes widened as towards the place he now called home danced with the radiant glows of reds, yellows and oranges. The smell of smoke filled his nose and the screams of locals found his ears. Dropping was wood he had with only the axe left in hand he ran back towards the village. The village was a sunder, villagers lain indiscriminately everywhere most unrecognizable. Strangers of all different races, sunken eyes, and signs of depravity on their faces. Aramis felt a pain in his chest, his eyes Grew brighter feeding off the moon, he could see all that hid in the dark that night. He bared his fangs, guttural roar escaped his lips as he charged towards the strangers…..
Clothes torn, the axe now missing its head and covered in his blood and that of others he approached his family hut limping, exhausted and scorned. As he arrived he saw his father on the ground to the left of the hut, the smell of blood filled the air as the light reflected off the puddle his father lay in. His mother was arguing with a man who only gave off a sense of never ending darkness and dread. “Mo…mother..?” She stopped and turned his way flashing him a brief smile before the man attacked swiftly without mercy his mothers head rolled toward him, her smile never leaving her face. The stranger turned toward Aramis and grimaced “Abomination” He was too fast to react, Aramis was filled with overwhelming dread that he was going to die that night. As the blade stretched out to pierce his chest he closed his eyes. He felt the blade penetrate his shoulder as a large weight suddenly held him down. Opening his eyes briefly he found his father overlooking him with the same smile on his face as his mothers. He had deflected the blade by sacrificing himself. His heart was pierced and had little time left in this world. Coughing a few times as the blood trickled from his mouth he whispered softly. “ Survive my son and grow strong, do not fear the night.” With that the Stranger pulled sharply on the blade rearing for another thrust when by fate's twist the sun began to rise. With a hiss the stranger disappeared into the darkness that remained. Aramis had no strength left to move, his injuries had taken hold, he was bleeding out. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to sob, no words would come out. In that moment the blood of his father dripped into his mouth. His chest grew tight, his senses sharpened, his muscles twitched and the pain was so unrelenting and he passed out.
Taken to a nearby camp, he was fed, clothed and questioned about what had occurred. He barely spoke a word, he himself wasn't really sure what had happened. They kept him in a tent alone under watchful eye, fed 3 meals a day but something odd was happening. Even though he had eaten, his hunger became more fierce as the day went on. Finally snarling at those who came nearby they chained him and left him outside. Days, weeks, months had passed, his mind broken, constantly dreaming of that fateful night. Finally it all changed when he was approached by a young wizard Kulin Eshan and a grizzled Knight Doran Gilfry. Kulin opened a tonic and mixed in a familiar smell, blood, but not human blood that of a pig or so the story goes. With Doran holding Aramis down the wizard poured the tonic mixture down his throat and jumped back. His body convulsed then stopped, his mind returned and that was when he was finally informed of who and what he was.
Now under the supervision of both Kulin and Doran Aramis began life anew, learning the art of the sword, and the knowledge and history of the region. He learned that night that the strangers he had killed in the village were simply thralls of a vampire lord who had raided the village for food. He learned his mother was once part of a Noble Vampire family who had earlier in her life been overthrown by the stranger who attacked that night, presumably looking for her as the final member of the blood line. A blood line that now lastly resides in you. With that Aramis took his training seriously, mastering the sword day in and day out, learning the realm of monsters and how to defeat them. Years had gone by and Aramis had reached adulthood, slaying monsters along his travels with the pair after the order disbanded. But reality started to kick in, everyone around him aged but he stayed the same, just another curse his lineage truly brought. Kulin and Doran have passed now, both buried overlooking the ocean, 20 years had passed since then and Aramis continues to look the same, now onto a new adventure with hopes to prevent what happened to his village many decades ago from happening again, and to hunt down the monsters that make those fear at night.