I guess he is slightly out-of-sync, but only on the later part when he join the adventure.
I would place Lujor on the Fanatic type. His personality is to go 1v1 the big boss (or whoever that looks like the leader), leaving the 'trash' to his teammate. Every time he speaks (not very often), Lujor be like what anime call Chuunibyou (High Roleplay), making him Very awkward in casual conversation. for one, he have a very different view of everything - thinking he is divinely chosen for greatness-, and his subsequent 'betrayal' and isolation. Which amplify and twisted that ideal.
And his achievement for some reason support his claim. A few years before the start of the campaign, he emerge from his exile as monster rampage the city. Still, proclaiming the corruption showing their true nature. He got trampled by the fleeing crowd as he tries again to gather followers. He did broke a bridge with the strike of his battleax, for what he thought is divine intervention. During the campaign, Lujor a lvl3 Paladin, lvl1 rouge solo a Bandit captain and 2 Bandits. I tries to fudge the rolls for the enemies (I am trying to humble Lujor to KO him) In the end, the party think he is blessed by the gods.
but deep down, deep deep down:
He crave for companionship. After being exile for a century, and rejected. Who don't want to have friends? Roleplaying him is fun, and how I wish I can play him more. But I have reserved him for a plot point for my players in the future.
Lujor suddenly left the party, because he was reinstated by the Temple. The party came to a conclusion that Lujor is being used by them. They too perceive Lujor as a big teddy bear
I was in charge of the 1st Militia Company of The Shire as a Captain. I have strong ties their and never leave it behind. After long journeys I come home to Hobbiton and bring glory to The Shire. I live in Bag End which is my ancestors home. I have the sword and mithril chain mail armor from Bilbo and Frodo Baggin's Adventures. He has certain objects he always has. In a second sheath he had a broken sword. The sword was his brothers who died to the hands of orcs and was his lieutenant. He also has a bit of a banner in a pocket close to his heart. It is the banner of his old unit and reminds him of home where ever he goes
This is mine so far. You like?
Mithril Chain Vest actually, but otherwise not bad.
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 laided aspuned 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.
He wasn't sure how many days had passed but he was later found by a group of Knight of the grey cowl. (These knights are dedicated to protecting the realm and ruler against evil magic, and are heavily composed of Eldritch Knights, Abjuration Wizards, and Assassins. They focus on hunting and defeating magical threats by whatever means necessary.) He only saw the ash marks of his mothers body before passing back 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.
I feel like I have more I can flesh out to get a better time line etc., but that's kind of where I'm at with it.
I have a new character being introduced into our game this week. My Cleric is under arrest and faces charges from the Church so he will be going away for a while and in will come Bronco. The power ballot College of Swords Bard / Hexblade with a magical lute from Lathander. He was casted out by his family after taking the magical artifact and became a ward for Lathander. Through his training he formed a troupe called The Wild Stallions and they ride the continent inspiring hope, stealing hearts, and smiting the undead. My cleric who was a Cleric of Kelemvor had fought side by side with Bronco and was worried things were not what they seemed in the temple so he called him to Baldur's Gate to wait for his return. The party just arrived at the gates to find the Cleric being arrested and was told they must find Bronco with in the city before he was taken away.
Here’s the backstory for my newest character, a Goliath bladesinger.He was weaker than most goliaths and was unable to keep up. He ended up being exiled and had to leave his mountain home.
On his way down, he nearly froze to death but he found something peculiar. An elf frozen solid in ice. Lying next to it was a frozen spell book. He opened the book and turned through the (mostly damaged) pages . Only a few spells were readable.
he found a spell to control fire and tried to melt the ice holding the elf. Sadly, it didn’t work. Next to the elf also was a tiny mote. The Goliath picked up the more and could feel its power.
after making it down the mountain he found a town. After spending a few days there an avalanche started and was coming to destroy the town. Which nothing else to do, the Goliath threw the mote. The little thing exploded into a swarm of meteors, completely destroying the avalanche.
The Goliath then realized just what wizards could do. The raw power they could posses. He then swore himself to further his magical prowess. However, he was not the best at just standing and casting spells. He was always wanting to run and fight. So, after some studying he discovered blade singing. He was all for it.
Its kinda basic and a little cliche but I liked it. I like this character a lot.
I’m about to get into my second campaign, and I have a habit of making small town nobodies at the beginning of the stories because I just LOVE an epic underdog story.
So, Passher was born in a nobody village of Bellmark with a population of only 115 citizens, and had not even an ounce of magic in him, but when he first learned about the world of magic, he was automatically enthralled with the concept, that’s why he looks up to the three Heads of his village, because they were the only ones in his village that could control the arcane. As he grew up, his fascination for magic became borderline obsessive, and one day, nearing his 18th birthday, got a bunch of books from his parents library and began studying different kinds of magic, one of which included a book about the runes of giants. Something about the runes made him feel like he had a sort of connection, that maybe the runes could hold the key to him finally wielding magic.
He decided that after days of studying and experimenting, he made the bonkers decision to tattoo an experimental rune, made up of the runes Ild(fire), Ise(Ice) and Kong(King), onto his stomach, in hopes it would give him magical power. It worked….to an extent, and Passher demonstrated to his village that he could finally wield magic, but in the process ended up destroying a third of the the village, along with the life of a elderly woman.
The three heads imprisoned him in one of the heads cellars for two days, then when he was brought out, he was put into an impromptu trial, where the 3 heads made the decision to exile Passher from the village due to his new powers being too unpredictable and dangerous to be kept in the small village. He said his goodbyes, got his personal belongings, Had a small heart to heart with his mom, then started making his way out of the village.
But before Passher left fully, one of the heads, Kolten, stopped him and gave Passher an arcane focus that Kolton used when he was first learning magic, and now is being passed down to Passher. Kolten also told Passher of an acquaintance He knew back in stromkirk (the starting city) that was a known Runesmith, by the name of Caleb Samsaros, and that Caleb owes Kolten a favor, so he tells Passher to find that smith, and tell him that “Kolten sent me, and he wants you to repay the favor.”
I’m curious as to how he handles the first session, because he basically is starting out with what feels like civilian health (11, because I got a nat one for health at lvl 2) I REALLY hope he doesn’t die stupid quick.
Victor grew up as a slave in Calimshay. He was not a good slave as the stripes on his back revealed. A wandering cleric of Illmater ministered to the slaves in secret and taught the boy to read. Victor would sneak into his master’s house, studying in the library. He learned of maps and lands where everyone was free. Victor knew he would escape!
On the third night of his dash for freedom, he found an old forgotten tomb in the desert. A dust storm approached. Victor sought shelter inside. To him the tomb was old, but it was ancient beyond his understanding. By the light of a crude fire, he explored. There were various stone sarcophagi that he was afraid to open. But an old wooden chest beckoned to him. It was ornate, but so old it fell apart with his touch.
He took a handful of gold, and filled his pockets with gems. The glint of something else caught his eye. It was an old lamp, probably better at illuminating the room than his small fire. Rubbing some of the tarnish off, he freed a djinni.
The room filled with smoke and light. “I am the slave of the lamp. Tell me whatever you desire little master, and I shall grant your wish.”
‘Slave.’ Victor’s heart fell. Removing his vest, he showed the genie the cruel lashes that covered his back. “I am a slave too, great Djinni. I’m running away.”
The djinn knelt down, compassion in his face. “Slave or not little master, let me help you.”
Resolve filled the boy’s heart. “I wish you and all your family will never be enslaved again!”
The djinni reared back, startled. After a moment, he laughed. “FREEDOM!” He cried. “For me and my kin!” There was a peal of thunder, and the Djinni was gone.
The boy fell asleep huddled next to the fire. When he awoke, he found blankets covering him, while silver platters held enough food for a week.
Victor made his way to a city, where he bought passage north. He befriended the captain and asked if there was anything he could do to help out. The captain assigned him to the ship’s carpenter. The boy excelled and instead of disembarking he took a job with the ship.
Years later, Victor, now a young man returned to the ship. He thought he fell asleep in his bunk. But instead, he woke up in a palace. He was brought before a great ruler seated on a throne of gold. A smile broke out when he recognized the Djinni he freed so many years ago.
“I am so very honored to meet you again!”
“As I am to see you again.” The Djinni smiled back. “By freeing my family, you have done me great honor. I have watched you over the years. You have become a responsible young man.
I am the caliph of the eastern reach. In mortal tongues, I am Lord Septal-Ani. I would not have reached out to you, save that you are in great danger. You have enemies, young Victor. Using divine means your former masters have found you. Assassins have been dispatched.
I offer you a chance to defend yourself. Take this.” The caliph offered him a golden pear on a silver platter. Victor took the pear.
“Should you eat the pear, you will enter my service. But you will also have the power to defend yourself and the knowledge to use it well. The offer will last for three da…”
Victor ate the pear. He bent on one knee. “I will gladly serve you, Lord Septal Ani.”
After a moment of silence, the Djinni smiled. “Arise. My service is light, you are a friend, not a slave. Your ship is no longer a safe place. A life of wild freedom and adventure is now yours. Now go, favored one. We shall talk later.”
Wild freedom and adventure was correct. Victor woke up in the fanciest inn in Tantras on the Dragon’s Reach. All expenses paid. Knowledge of what he could do flooded his mind. He found a ring on his finger; it was a plain gold ring not magical in any way. But he knew it was the mark of his pact with the Caliph.
He fought in a war with a pirate king. The moment enemy ships came within 120 feet, Victor would blast the hull at the water line. A ship’s wright knows the weakest points. All the Caliph wanted were trinkets, a medal taken from a pirate captain’s coat, a spy glass, a double headed coin. He would lock them in his chest at night and they would be gone by morning.
The war was winding down, when the crow’s nest sounded the alarm. Ships approaching, they said. Victor scanned the horizon…and nothing. Wait! The ships were in the air. Flying ships? The captain saw them too.
“It’s been an honor to serve with you, son.” The captain said.
This is a Spelljammer/Planescape campaign. Our characters will start at 8 level with nothing…captives aboard an illithid ship.
Victor is a var human. 4/4 warlock/sorcerer. He will only stay 4th or 5th level as sorcerer and progress the rest of the way as a lock. His background is shipwright. His feat is Fey touched.
Because of her threatening reputation in sorcery magi, Sura’s mother had been hunted down by skilled guardsmen and various villager volunteers of the planes. Ultimately framed for all evil doings whether she committed them or not the population had decided it was enough. A court sentence was held by the majority of all lords of the planes for her execution. The lords of court proposed a law "Anyone alined with or accused of aiding the sorcerer will be convicted and executed immediately." Cut off from all of society her mother had gone on for as long as her will to survive could carry her. During the period of her late term she performed one last ritual to protect the unborn tiefling from all harm and possibly death. Sura’s mother journeyed back to the royal city, walked right into the courts of the high lords domain and surrendered. Without hesitation she was apprehended, bound and escorted to a holding cell. Not a word spoken, no tears of sorrow nor any attempt to escape…her mother accepted this fate for she and the planes beyond reality knew what was in store for the future. From the holding cell - to the platform of fire - they marched uninterrupted. Without any delay the high lords gave the signal to proceed with the execution and ignited a blaze beneath her feet. With one last breath, she screamed towards the sky summoning four spheres of fire blazing down, crashing into the high courts disintegrating all within the high city. In the center of the court where once stood a platform of conviction is now her mothers unmarked resting place that bares a pile of ash and bone. Inside the remnants of tiefling skeleton lay an infant born of fire. (Sura Fireborn)
Here is the backstory to my scorned White Dragonborn Paladin.
Artist Unknown
VarKesh had the silver spoon in his mouth at birth. He never lacked anything. He was trained as a paladin as soon as he took his first step. His mother passed at an early age and when it came to his training, his father walked the line between cruel and passionate and he did it well. "There was not much time for tenderness in a world full of evil" he always said. VarKesh knew his father cared for him and that was enough for him. The monotony of training quickly took his innocence and began to harden his senses and grind his conscience. He would do what had to be done to survive, protect his clan, and to preserve what he fought for. It wasn't until his father passed that he realized how much of his identity was tied up in him. All the money in the world was available to him and yet he had nothing. Many Paladins sought deities after their paladin training was complete and the most popular was Lathander. Being slightly too young to officially join the "Order of the Morning Lord" VarKesh talked the priests into allowing him to "shadow" the order and learn what he could. When his order was ambushed by a dragon cult, he watched in envy as his men cut them down. Something inside him burned to join in, but he knew if he did, the order would never initiate him. The fight turned, however, when fire licked across the ground killing 4 of his men instantly as a red dragon joined the fight. Forgetting the repercussions of his actions, VarKesh threw himself into the fight as the dragon landed with the intent of biting another of his men in half. With the dragon's head stretched out to bite, VarKesh took the giant blade of one of his fallen brothers and cleaved the head off. The fight turned quickly after that and the men cleaned up the rest of the cult. Instead of ostracizing him, the order initiated him. With the help of the order, he took the barbed head crest of the slain red dragon and fashioned it into a greataxe fit for a warrior king. In it was imbued with the fury and rage of the dragon. It fueled VarKesh's will and ironed out his fear and hesitation. "Temper" is what he called it. He quickly grew through the ranks of Lathander's order with Temper pulling him threw swaths of foes in reckless abandonment of his own safety; something that began to be apparent in his troops under him. It seemed every battle he would be farther and farther ahead of his men cutting a wedge in front of him where no-one could follow. His men began to hesitate during the fight, wondering if his rage would abandon them completely. In the end, only one man remained loyal and stood by his side through whatever he put them in. His name was VarKesh. The man who's name he would later take. Together they became unstoppable, testing fate as they would fling themselves into more and more dangerous fights with the light of Lathander and the fury of Temper securing their lives every time. He didn't realize the glaring truth that the order of Lathander had had enough. He didn't heed the warnings of the Leaders and even the dreams Lathander Himself gave him in his restless dreams. It was this way until one day where everything finally broke. Here is the story...
"The light breaks" He stammered to himself pulling the charred armor over his scales and cinching the leather bands tight, "Light cannot hide itself. It shines so bright in the darkness that even a near blind man can follow it to the source. VarKesh was a fool to flaunt it. Once the hordes of Tiamat saw that source, there was no end to the onslaught. We fought for days with no sleep piling up corpses in heaps like cord wood ready for a fire. We were promised the light would always shine for us; that Lathander would always bask us in His resplendent glory giving us almost insurmountable power. We were wrong. Once His boon left, our wounds closed much slower and the blood stayed on the ground after it left our bodies. The swords and arrows came much faster and the sting was much more agonizing. I saw then what the light truly was. A trap. Bait, like a mouse for a cat. I found myself stranded from my God in the valley of darkness with the hordes licking their lips. VarKesh fell in 3 pieces before he could even make sense of what befell him. There wasn't time to stop and ask why Lathander had left His chosen to fend for himself in his most dire of need. I didn't have the luxury to curse at the heavens for this act of betrayal. I had to make a choice. As the light faded, I saw darkness consume the once gleaming, swirling clouds till only wind could be heard above. I saw as the blanket of shadow closed in on me, flanking me as I stood surrounded by hundreds on all sides; pinpointed like a single bulls eye on a 10 acre game of darts. I had only time enough to make one decision. If the darkness truly was all I had left, I would put it to the test. Clenching my fists, kneeling and biting down hard I hissed though my intersecting teeth a challenge to Tiamat. A boast for the patron Blue Dragon mother. Even with her imprisoned this thousand years, Her sickness still affected the mortal realm in some manner and I knew ancients were far to self-indulged to let a boast go unnoticed. "Tiamat! You usurper to the origin throne of dragons! How many of your children must I pile up today? Enough to finally meet you eye to eye you bloated tangled snake?" I waited for two eternities as the darkness finally halted and the blades of the dragon cultists seemed to stop inches from my face. Slowly the shadows went from blacks and grays to shades of deep midnight blue, almost seeming to groan in contempt of the unnatural alteration. A thousand hisses slowly grew in sound over the painful silence. "A "bloated God" would need not to prove itself to another mere morsel." A visage of Seven impossibly large blue heads snaked out from the mist to get a better look at me. If I were graced with even 2 more feet, I would not stand as tall as a single tooth. Tiamat had come. "You are too small to even eat creatively, mortal" She taunted. I made luck my master as I took my blood soaked helmet off and tossed it aside and thrusted my sword into the mound of enemies where I now stood. "Make an example of me to your dogs, then! I don't play games!" The quip seemed to hit all seven heads differently and each seemed to laugh its own unique way, the blue mist escaping from their mouths with sparks skittering through it like spiders in a web. The combination hurt my ears. “I will honor the pact I made with Lathander this day mortal. What’s left of my army will remain intact and in turn, you will live to make another hill of whatever you see fit." Six heads turned and pushed back into the blue curtain leaving just the one left. “Know this mortal, I will dream of the day our paths meet again." With that, a pulse hit me in the chest and I fell down the heap of corpses until I hit the ground hard. When I lifted my gaze again, she was gone. I sat there silently as the army threaded around me as if I was a leper not fit to acknowledge. I hated that more. I was a fool to trust Lathander. I was nothing more than a convenience, and when he tired of me, I and those I love paid the price. VarKesh in particular. I pushed off my holy shoulder pauldrons Lathander Himself christened me with and stood; the light flickering out of my eyes......... I will continue to search for the light, but I will find little comfort in what I have to do now once I find it. An unfamiliar chill crawls up my legs, wraps around my waist and bleeds through my chest into my heart. “I will keep it contained for now. Truly there is no power in the light. The darkness will always overtake it. As the gleam of Lathander leaves my eyes and goes black, there is a single spark of blue.
The backstory for my new character Zadkiel. He is a Fallen Aasimar, Hexblade Warlock with the Soldier background. My GM asked me to give him some ideas around the patron as The Hexblade is vague, I believe purposely so. In my mind, it is the vengeful spirit of a Bheur Hag which after being vanquished by heroes became trapped in the Shadowfell. Unable or unwilling to pass on she now offers gifts to those in need, always at a price.
Warning: Some might find the text quite dark. It contains some reference to battlefield injuries and I wouldn't want to upset anyone.
Zadkiel sat upright on his stool, back to the bar. He tossed a coin to the barman as his glass was filled. He took a long deep drink from the glass, before turning back towards the commotion, a look of ire on his face.
Zadkiel was a tall man. He had long, scraggly brown hair which ran down the back of his head just past his broad shoulders. When no one was looking, his facial features were quite kindly. However, most of the time he wore a scowl, a grimace or a glare. When his face screwed up, you could hardly make out his deep-set emerald eyes and instead, struggled to make out two tiny coal-like spots of seething jet. A large scar shattered the handsome features of his face running from top to bottom across the left side at a slight angle. He wore tattered, leather armour which had been died black as well as baggy, forest green pantaloons over his well-fitting, functional and practical trousers. A necklace around his neck displayed a set of strange, otherworldly and jagged looking teeth. At his side, propped up against the bar; in the shadows just out of the sight of most, lay his sword and shield. The sword which was long and slender was stashed within its scabbard and appeared to those looking, to glint and sparkle, impossibly so, in the thick shadow beside the bar. The kite shield, painted white, bore a long since faded emblem.
Zadkiel stared at the kid across the way as they showed off their bright, shiny armour. The lad had just signed up and could be no more than seventeen summers old. They would likely not last out the year.
Zadkiel seethed not because he cared about this soldier, although he did, but because it brought back unwarranted memories.
Unbidden, and like motes of fire on a stiff wind they returned to him, and once again, he was on the battlefield…
Wading through a quagmire of blood and mud with his brothers in the dead of night. The rain hammered down upon them and they could see no further than fifty paces in any direction as they took shelter beneath an old, ancient, gnarled and oaken tree. Even Zadkiel with his enhanced vision was struggling to see, and the weight of responsibility pressed down upon him. All eyes were upon him though none would be elsewhere for all believed Zadkiel was blessed with good luck, and many wished to be in his squad.
A scream, deadened somewhat by the wind and rain drifted their way.
Thunderous squelching footfalls moved across the battlefield, just up ahead. Zadkiel thought he saw some movement. Something with a queer and unsettling gait skittered amongst them.
Then, in an instant, it was upon them.
Out of nowhere, something smashed into Zadkiels left side while emitting the most blood-curdling howl that Zadkiel had ever heard. He grunted as the wind was knocked from him and he was tossed face-first into the mud. Rolling quickly, he gasped in a quick breath, pulling himself to his feet.
Vin, Cuthbert and Zelrikt lay in pieces across the way. Their dismembered bodies wept thick crimson; the oak would drink well tonight.
His throat filled with air; he began to bark out orders, but his squad was gone.
Mardan trudged slowly; back within Zadkiels vision. A sudden blur of shadow darted as that mind rending howl erupted once again; chilling Zadkiel and draining away all fight left in him. Mardan slumped forward before Zadkiels eyes, his body parting across the chest. Horrified, Zadkiel made a prayer and prepared to die.
But strangely, his prayer was answered.
Instilled with new zeal he stood, grasping his sword and shield, and strode out into the darkness in search of his quarry. Crystalline, spectral frost began to form over Zadkiels armour and weapons. As the beast attacked, Zadkiels saw for the first time the dark and twisted form of a being that appeared to have been plucked straight out of the nine hells themselves.
In a flash of chill, azure, hoarfrost which erupted from Zadkiels extended sword a large gash of black sagging flesh fell from the creature just as it pounced. Its mouth opened in a shrill cry revealing rows of jagged bloodstained teeth. The feeling of dread crept over Zadkiel, but this time departed with a thought. He cursed as the beast’s mouth clamped down around his shield arm and pain coursed throughout his body, but the frost on his armour burned the creature. It cried out in pain as its teeth fell by the dozen, its gums black with atrophy.
Dropping his shield to the ground, his ruined hand hanging loosely at his side, Zadkiel leapt upon the stunned animal and, summoning all his strength, plunged his sword -- wreathed in icy frost -- into its back.
As the creature fell, writhing in the last throes of its existence, Zadkiel rolled to its side, eyes staring upwards into the night's sky as the rain pattered down, cleaning his mud-caked face. For a moment, before he passed into unconsciousness, he stared up at the branches of the tree, jagged and distorted, looming over him and swore he saw a face within them.
A pleased face. A greedy face.
The rats grew fat…
Shunning the painful thoughts Zadkiel turned back to the bar. Never would he fight for another again! Nothing good ever came from war or conflict and a rich man’s world was stacked upon the backs of the poor and lowly. In a never-ending wheel of carnage did kingdoms rise and fall. Each time men died by the thousands.
This time, Zadkiel tossed two coins to the barman and said in a thick guttural voice.
“I’d be much obliged if you'd give me something a little stronger”.
My character (I don't really have art for him), is a Goblin Bard. Basically, he (character's name is Raviel Insiel) was born into a cult called the Children of Gatiol, who worshipped an elder deity named Gatiol, The Wrathful Ouroboros. In actuality, Gatiol is just a cover name for Tharizdun, the Chained Oblivion, and at 5 years old, he was saved by an acting troupe of assassins named Rogue Roulette, who were more of a family to him than the cult ever was. The leader of the troupe, Maxwell, had just went on his own path after breaking off with his father's assassin guild organization Malignance, and on good terms, too. So afterward, Maxwell started a family with a water genasi named Rouge, and began the acting troupe. Raviel then, at the age of 15, attended a bardic college and wowed every single student with his big brain energy, including a dragonborn named Hemlock Radamunk, the daughter of an Avatar of Tiamat, hidden away from the world at a young age, raised by a fishing couple outside of Saltmarsh, until she decided to rough it out in the woodland planes and go to college to also become a bard. From there, the two began a super intimate relationship, which grew only stronger when they took down a lesser Lich, who was a former zealous classmate transformed into a disciple of Vecna. They decided to travel the world together as a new Bardic duo, Misty Souls, and that is where this backstory ends. I became a DM for a D&D Club we have on Thursdays at my Middle School, and from there, I decided that playing a DM PC wasn't such a good idea. So, to keep it canon, him and Hemlock both got transported to the Raven Queen's domain of dread, and are helping her fight the hordes of Orcus with their Bardic Inspirations and Charms. It seems to be working, and after a year, they became free, and ready for the world ahead of them.
So I decided to start noting down my diary, because like, people in the future will wanna know who I was! Because I’m like one of Yuan’s closest descendants!
Once upon a time there hatched a small girl (That's me! The amazing Sseltssin Yiggish) blessed by the great Yuan to do great things in great ways. It was quite clear very early on that I was meant for good things! When I was five I healed my own mom (her name's Apeppa Yiggish) from a serious stab wound. (Don't ask who caused that.) So of course everyone recognized me and I was the talk of the town. This was all back in Newland of course.
Big sister didn't really like that though. Her name's Jormun Yiggish, and she's a huge whiner. She's like a priestess or cleric or something? She's super mad that I can easily do what takes her years to study. She would get married to one of the abominations, a full on snake dude named Illuyankass Crotaluss. He is like one of the big shots in town, he actually wanted to marry me because he said I have the soul of Yuan. But hell no, I'm not marrying a guy twice my age. That was a bit insulting apparently, so he threatened my family. Mother settled the conflict though by having Jormun marry him. (Haha, that's what she gets) and sending me all the way to Andoross to work at the embassy.
I had no clue how to be an embassy...person, though. But no worries! I got to work for the abomination's cousin. This really smart, and kind, and pretty, and stern, and cool, and cute girl named Quetssal Crotaluss. (No! I don't like her, shut up!) Apparently she's the ambassador of the Yuan-ti to the Demon Lord. But she does other stuff too. Stuff that gets a bunch of people really hurt. But no worries! I am a genius healer supreme extra-ordinaire! So I healed all the peoples that were hired.
Then one day I decide, I am curious as shit to see what's actually going on. I am not stupid afterall, I know something's going on. So I follow this elf dude called Liutasil. (Dude's got psychic daggers, that's cool as heck. His roommate's kinda weird tho. Chakos, if you read this, **** you for peeking into my diary.) Liu is on some mission, and I sneak up on him, and he's like: “I know you're there.” So I am like, oh shit he figured me out. So I tell him I'm here to help. So we do the mission together. And it goes really well! So we do more missions together, and it's so much fun. (Don't bring up the knock incident, it only happened once...okay thrice.) So now we are this dynamic duo of master thieves so I start thinking, maybe elves aren't so bad, right?
This is when I met another elf. Pretty maiden (At least I think? Who can tell with the knife-ears.) called Renna. I followed her around for a bit and saw that she has like this cool ass legged-snake. (She calls it a drake.) So I wanna pet that. So I go up to her, and she allows me to pet the drake. Then this big ass white scalykind shows up right? So I ask if he's a drake too. That annoyed him. How am I supposed to know about Dragonborn!? (His name's Zethu by the way.)
So at this point I'm thinking that Elves are actually really cool right? So I wanna speak Elvish. Took me soooooo long to learn that stuff. But I did it! You should have seen Liu's face when I started talking in Elvish. (Liu, if you find this, sorry for calling you a Boar's end, didn't know that was an insult.)
But yeah, that's my life now, I sleep in a room at Quetssal's home, go check with Liu if there's something to do, if not I go see if I can pet Renna's drake and if both are a bust, I'll just heal some wounded people for silver. It's a good life, but I am kinda waiting for my destiny to come knocking. A soul of Yuan can't just fade into obscurity right? I'm too awesome for that!
Lazareth was once a devoted member and high-ranking Warlock of the cult of Baphomet. He was brought into them at a very young age and even made a deal with the great demon himself for a fraction of power. It was the usual recruit people, bring sacrifices, blah blah blah.... until one day. One... gods be damned day. One of the followers was about to do their sacrifice, until he saw it was a newborn child. They sacrificed men, women, and children in the past. But... This one was different. It was like me. A Tiefling. Something within him just snapped. One moment he saw the dagger hovering over the baby, the next, he is holding the dagger and baby surrounded by a bunch of dead cult members. In a panic, he quickly took the baby to a faraway village and gave her to a loving family who promised to take care of her and would even let me come see her. He quickly left and have been moving around a lot ever since, just making ends meet and sending money for dear Natasha to stay healthy. Baphomet wants him to suffer for what he did, so anytime he uses his magic, Baphomet tries to break his mind and control him to either hunt down Natasha, or to un-alive him.Put your spoiler here.
I've just completed a big homebrew document project for my Thursday night D&D character, antaxis (intentionally uncapitalized). If anyone is interested, it's linked below. Note it is a mismatch of official D&D content mixed with homebrew items I found on D&D beyond, Pinterest, my DM's homebrew campaign docs, along with my own creations. I'm not going to list what I've used because there is way too much but if something strikes you as not original, you're probably right.
Hidden from society by their ability to become wolves at will, the Lythari Elves are quite rare to come into contact with. They usually run in packs in the wilderness to avoid suspicion from civilizations that they didn't wish to be discovered by and to be camouflaged while in the forest. Sai was the son of the pack's leader, Lagrias. The pack was discovered by a cult of orcs when one of their members tried to hunt of the pack's lead hunters while out in the wilderness. With no result in the attempt, the orcs tracked the pack's hunter and later ambushed the entire pack of Lythari Elves. The fight was long but the pack was outnumbered, Sai fought hard as his only friends and family were all slain, including his father Lagrias. The orcs captured Sai by the order of their leader and while transporting him back to their lair the caravan was attacked by the Harpers. The Harpers had been tracking the cult but were too late to save Sai's pack. The Harpers took Sai in, after discovering he had some skill with magic and also weapons they introduced him to their bladesinger members, who would teach Sai their ways. Sai was a quick learner and a great investigator and tracker. He became an honorable bladesinger and the only Lythari Elf to be part of the Harpers.
Although Sai's revenge was taken from him by the Harpers, he felt he owed them for their deed, so he stayed to aid in their missions and to defend others as he was defended. He used his wolf form to track down enemies and then his Bladesinging abilities if things became difficult. Sai showed no mercy to those he knew were killers or rapists even if it meant getting the lesser sum from the bounty and he would bring in those who committed lesser crimes. If the bounty was for an Orc he wouldn't accept payment, he would hunt them down and end any possibility of the Orc ever being heard of again. In his mind, each death of an Orc meant honoring fallen his pack members.
His visual occupation was a bounty hunter but he would secretly report in with the Harpers regularly.
(Forgive me if any of my lore was inaccurate, I'm still quite an amateur to dnd lore, but I enjoy stories. I also have a picture but am unsure how to add it from my phone)
An upcoming w.i.p Hexblood Wild Magic Sorcerer. Discord Nightshade
A poor couple was having trouble producing offspring. No matter how many how many times they tried they couldn't have kids. (The wife was infertile ;( ) when they were in their late forties, the husband went into the swamp to seek out someone who could make his wife capable of having children. He met Auntie Agatha Blackclaw, a green hag. She gave him a green potion that would give them a child in exchange for "the thing you love the most ;))))" not reading the fine print, the husband gave his wife the potion and she got pregnant not long after. After 9 months, she gave birth to a baby boy with.... green skin and antlers. (that was on the fine print) after the birth, Agatha Blackcloack took the thing the husband loved most... his wife. She died and the husband was so enraged he left his son out in the rain, but lucky for the son, he was whisked off to the feywild, where he was adopted by a sorceress who named him "Discord" as he lived in the feywild for 18 years, he slowly absorbed some of the feywild's magic and became a wild magic sorcerer. The sorceress trained him in sorcery and also in mixing potions, crafting trinkets and charms, and espionage. He left the feywild to prove himself on the material plane and make his adoptive mother proud.
Still a w.i.p backstory, but im really excited to play this character for my friend's upcoming campaign after we finish a Call of Cthulhu mini campaign
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my name is not Bryce
Actor
Certified Dark Sun enjoyer
usually on forum games and not contributing to conversations ¯\_ (ツ)_/
For every user who writes 5 paragraph essays as each of their posts: Remember to touch grass occasionally
Was Having Difficulty being inspired for a Backstory for new character in new campaign - started reading through some on this thread. Saw one that sparked my interest and edited it to make it my own - Thx to LeK for original concept and framework, much of which is still within:
In his earlier years of life, Kethoth was infatuated by the idea of becoming a powerful wizard. His life in the village was fairly easy-going, although not luxurious. His father, Abe Sai'Eth, ran a moderately successful carpentry business. Kethoth and his younger brother Corthas always got along, running around the hills and dunes with their other friends, enjoying life. On one such sojourn they discovered the sands had shifted revealing a cave opening - an entry to an ancient Library. At the age of 16, Kethoth entered, discovering the lost library and its keeper. The Arch-Mage of the Library, Erreth, took a personal interest in him, inviting him to read to his hearts content - for a price.
The architecture of the Library was unique and who made it was unknown, but Erreth had been doing research on an ancient civilization that he suspected once ruled in this region. Amongst all the scrolls, tablets and books within its collection Erreth coveted an ancient tome bearing a mark that resembles a bone-like claw with three talons. Erreth was secretive about the book, revealing almost no information about it to Kethoth. For hours, Kethoth marveled over the words, tales, fables, histories and stories: drawn into the depths of the stacks about him and the ways of magic. But, as time passed, Erreth became erratic and Kethoth started noting the absence of his friends, his brother... he began to notice the disrepair of his clothing... how long had he been reading and learning?
Kethoth sought out Erreth to address his growing unease; only to find him hunched over the ancient tome with a crazed look on his face. As Kethoth approached the library around him dissipated into dust and ruin - instantly ravaged by centuries of time. Erreth reached out to Kethoth in a moment of clarity grabbing him speaking only two words, "stop him". And time took Erreth in the same terrifying manner as it had consumed the Library. Blinking into the darkness, Kethoth found himself surrounded by ruins in the grasp of desiccated husk - tattered papers pressed to his chest. Kethoth ran from the horror - thru ancient ruins past a multitude of bones and dust. The Sun stung his eyes, his surroundings familiar yet changed - his village was gone reclaimed by the desert sands ages ago - a small oasis formed around the ruins the village well. What had felt like hours to Kethoth within the Library had been centuries in the World. Kethoth was not spared physically, as he gazed upon his reflection in the oasis to see he to had aged and he wore but rags. He salvaged what he could from the village and ruined library and now travels the land, searching for answers about what happened to him... and what Erreth's warning could portend. The tattered papers pressed to chest representing the only clues he has to decipher the mystery of his past, present, and future - Erreth whispering to him in his mind, urging him to unravel it. Kethoth has resisted thus far, but curiosity is starting to get the better of him.
I guess he is slightly out-of-sync, but only on the later part when he join the adventure.
I would place Lujor on the Fanatic type. His personality is to go 1v1 the big boss (or whoever that looks like the leader), leaving the 'trash' to his teammate.
Every time he speaks (not very often), Lujor be like what anime call Chuunibyou (High Roleplay), making him Very awkward in casual conversation.
for one, he have a very different view of everything - thinking he is divinely chosen for greatness-, and his subsequent 'betrayal' and isolation. Which amplify and twisted that ideal.
And his achievement for some reason support his claim.
A few years before the start of the campaign, he emerge from his exile as monster rampage the city. Still, proclaiming the corruption showing their true nature.
He got trampled by the fleeing crowd as he tries again to gather followers. He did broke a bridge with the strike of his battleax, for what he thought is divine intervention.
During the campaign, Lujor a lvl3 Paladin, lvl1 rouge solo a Bandit captain and 2 Bandits. I tries to fudge the rolls for the enemies (I am trying to humble Lujor to KO him)
In the end, the party think he is blessed by the gods.
but deep down, deep deep down:
He crave for companionship. After being exile for a century, and rejected. Who don't want to have friends?
Roleplaying him is fun, and how I wish I can play him more. But I have reserved him for a plot point for my players in the future.
Lujor suddenly left the party, because he was reinstated by the Temple. The party came to a conclusion that Lujor is being used by them.
They too perceive Lujor as a big teddy bear
Mithril Chain Vest actually, but otherwise not bad.
Aramis Yaeger -Dhampir Fighter
ALIGNMENT-Chaotic Neutral
GENDER-Male
EYES-Bright blue
SIZE-Medium
HEIGHT-5'10
FAITH-Hoar
HAIR-Black
SKIN-Pale and cool to the touch
AGE-100
WEIGHT-185lb.
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 laided aspuned 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.
He wasn't sure how many days had passed but he was later found by a group of Knight of the grey cowl. (These knights are dedicated to protecting the realm and ruler against evil magic, and are heavily composed of Eldritch Knights, Abjuration Wizards, and Assassins. They focus on hunting and defeating magical threats by whatever means necessary.) He only saw the ash marks of his mothers body before passing back 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.
I feel like I have more I can flesh out to get a better time line etc., but that's kind of where I'm at with it.
I have a new character being introduced into our game this week. My Cleric is under arrest and faces charges from the Church so he will be going away for a while and in will come Bronco. The power ballot College of Swords Bard / Hexblade with a magical lute from Lathander. He was casted out by his family after taking the magical artifact and became a ward for Lathander. Through his training he formed a troupe called The Wild Stallions and they ride the continent inspiring hope, stealing hearts, and smiting the undead. My cleric who was a Cleric of Kelemvor had fought side by side with Bronco and was worried things were not what they seemed in the temple so he called him to Baldur's Gate to wait for his return. The party just arrived at the gates to find the Cleric being arrested and was told they must find Bronco with in the city before he was taken away.
This may be one of the most imaginative story lines I've seen. I love it.
Here’s the backstory for my newest character, a Goliath bladesinger.He was weaker than most goliaths and was unable to keep up. He ended up being exiled and had to leave his mountain home.
On his way down, he nearly froze to death but he found something peculiar. An elf frozen solid in ice. Lying next to it was a frozen spell book. He opened the book and turned through the (mostly damaged) pages . Only a few spells were readable.
he found a spell to control fire and tried to melt the ice holding the elf. Sadly, it didn’t work. Next to the elf also was a tiny mote. The Goliath picked up the more and could feel its power.
after making it down the mountain he found a town. After spending a few days there an avalanche started and was coming to destroy the town. Which nothing else to do, the Goliath threw the mote. The little thing exploded into a swarm of meteors, completely destroying the avalanche.
The Goliath then realized just what wizards could do. The raw power they could posses. He then swore himself to further his magical prowess. However, he was not the best at just standing and casting spells. He was always wanting to run and fight. So, after some studying he discovered blade singing. He was all for it.
Its kinda basic and a little cliche but I liked it. I like this character a lot.
I recently returned to dnd beyond after a while. I'm surprised this thread is still going.
I’m about to get into my second campaign, and I have a habit of making small town nobodies at the beginning of the stories because I just LOVE an epic underdog story.
Character: Passher Lightwater (Wild Magic Sorcerer)
Summary:
So, Passher was born in a nobody village of Bellmark with a population of only 115 citizens, and had not even an ounce of magic in him, but when he first learned about the world of magic, he was automatically enthralled with the concept, that’s why he looks up to the three Heads of his village, because they were the only ones in his village that could control the arcane. As he grew up, his fascination for magic became borderline obsessive, and one day, nearing his 18th birthday, got a bunch of books from his parents library and began studying different kinds of magic, one of which included a book about the runes of giants. Something about the runes made him feel like he had a sort of connection, that maybe the runes could hold the key to him finally wielding magic.
He decided that after days of studying and experimenting, he made the bonkers decision to tattoo an experimental rune, made up of the runes Ild(fire), Ise(Ice) and Kong(King), onto his stomach, in hopes it would give him magical power. It worked….to an extent, and Passher demonstrated to his village that he could finally wield magic, but in the process ended up destroying a third of the the village, along with the life of a elderly woman.
The three heads imprisoned him in one of the heads cellars for two days, then when he was brought out, he was put into an impromptu trial, where the 3 heads made the decision to exile Passher from the village due to his new powers being too unpredictable and dangerous to be kept in the small village. He said his goodbyes, got his personal belongings, Had a small heart to heart with his mom, then started making his way out of the village.
But before Passher left fully, one of the heads, Kolten, stopped him and gave Passher an arcane focus that Kolton used when he was first learning magic, and now is being passed down to Passher. Kolten also told Passher of an acquaintance He knew back in stromkirk (the starting city) that was a known Runesmith, by the name of Caleb Samsaros, and that Caleb owes Kolten a favor, so he tells Passher to find that smith, and tell him that “Kolten sent me, and he wants you to repay the favor.”
I’m curious as to how he handles the first session, because he basically is starting out with what feels like civilian health (11, because I got a nat one for health at lvl 2) I REALLY hope he doesn’t die stupid quick.
Victor grew up as a slave in Calimshay. He was not a good slave as the stripes on his back revealed. A wandering cleric of Illmater ministered to the slaves in secret and taught the boy to read. Victor would sneak into his master’s house, studying in the library. He learned of maps and lands where everyone was free. Victor knew he would escape!
On the third night of his dash for freedom, he found an old forgotten tomb in the desert. A dust storm approached. Victor sought shelter inside. To him the tomb was old, but it was ancient beyond his understanding. By the light of a crude fire, he explored. There were various stone sarcophagi that he was afraid to open. But an old wooden chest beckoned to him. It was ornate, but so old it fell apart with his touch.
He took a handful of gold, and filled his pockets with gems. The glint of something else caught his eye. It was an old lamp, probably better at illuminating the room than his small fire. Rubbing some of the tarnish off, he freed a djinni.
The room filled with smoke and light. “I am the slave of the lamp. Tell me whatever you desire little master, and I shall grant your wish.”
‘Slave.’ Victor’s heart fell. Removing his vest, he showed the genie the cruel lashes that covered his back. “I am a slave too, great Djinni. I’m running away.”
The djinn knelt down, compassion in his face. “Slave or not little master, let me help you.”
Resolve filled the boy’s heart. “I wish you and all your family will never be enslaved again!”
The djinni reared back, startled. After a moment, he laughed. “FREEDOM!” He cried. “For me and my kin!” There was a peal of thunder, and the Djinni was gone.
The boy fell asleep huddled next to the fire. When he awoke, he found blankets covering him, while silver platters held enough food for a week.
Victor made his way to a city, where he bought passage north. He befriended the captain and asked if there was anything he could do to help out. The captain assigned him to the ship’s carpenter. The boy excelled and instead of disembarking he took a job with the ship.
Years later, Victor, now a young man returned to the ship. He thought he fell asleep in his bunk. But instead, he woke up in a palace. He was brought before a great ruler seated on a throne of gold. A smile broke out when he recognized the Djinni he freed so many years ago.
“I am so very honored to meet you again!”
“As I am to see you again.” The Djinni smiled back. “By freeing my family, you have done me great honor. I have watched you over the years. You have become a responsible young man.
I am the caliph of the eastern reach. In mortal tongues, I am Lord Septal-Ani. I would not have reached out to you, save that you are in great danger. You have enemies, young Victor. Using divine means your former masters have found you. Assassins have been dispatched.
I offer you a chance to defend yourself. Take this.” The caliph offered him a golden pear on a silver platter. Victor took the pear.
“Should you eat the pear, you will enter my service. But you will also have the power to defend yourself and the knowledge to use it well. The offer will last for three da…”
Victor ate the pear. He bent on one knee. “I will gladly serve you, Lord Septal Ani.”
After a moment of silence, the Djinni smiled. “Arise. My service is light, you are a friend, not a slave. Your ship is no longer a safe place. A life of wild freedom and adventure is now yours. Now go, favored one. We shall talk later.”
Wild freedom and adventure was correct. Victor woke up in the fanciest inn in Tantras on the Dragon’s Reach. All expenses paid. Knowledge of what he could do flooded his mind. He found a ring on his finger; it was a plain gold ring not magical in any way. But he knew it was the mark of his pact with the Caliph.
He fought in a war with a pirate king. The moment enemy ships came within 120 feet, Victor would blast the hull at the water line. A ship’s wright knows the weakest points. All the Caliph wanted were trinkets, a medal taken from a pirate captain’s coat, a spy glass, a double headed coin. He would lock them in his chest at night and they would be gone by morning.
The war was winding down, when the crow’s nest sounded the alarm. Ships approaching, they said. Victor scanned the horizon…and nothing. Wait! The ships were in the air. Flying ships? The captain saw them too.
“It’s been an honor to serve with you, son.” The captain said.
This is a Spelljammer/Planescape campaign. Our characters will start at 8 level with nothing…captives aboard an illithid ship.
Victor is a var human. 4/4 warlock/sorcerer. He will only stay 4th or 5th level as sorcerer and progress the rest of the way as a lock. His background is shipwright. His feat is Fey touched.
Sura Fireborn
Because of her threatening reputation in sorcery magi, Sura’s mother had been hunted down by skilled guardsmen and various villager volunteers of the planes. Ultimately framed for all evil doings whether she committed them or not the population had decided it was enough. A court sentence was held by the majority of all lords of the planes for her execution. The lords of court proposed a law "Anyone alined with or accused of aiding the sorcerer will be convicted and executed immediately." Cut off from all of society her mother had gone on for as long as her will to survive could carry her.
During the period of her late term she performed one last ritual to protect the unborn tiefling from all harm and possibly death. Sura’s mother journeyed back to the royal city, walked right into the courts of the high lords domain and surrendered.
Without hesitation she was apprehended, bound and escorted to a holding cell. Not a word spoken, no tears of sorrow nor any attempt to escape…her mother accepted this fate for she and the planes beyond reality knew what was in store for the future.
From the holding cell - to the platform of fire - they marched uninterrupted. Without any delay the high lords gave the signal to proceed with the execution and ignited a blaze beneath her feet.
With one last breath, she screamed towards the sky summoning four spheres of fire blazing down, crashing into the high courts disintegrating all within the high city. In the center of the court where once stood a platform of conviction is now her mothers unmarked resting place that bares a pile of ash and bone. Inside the remnants of tiefling skeleton lay an infant born of fire. (Sura Fireborn)
the rest is still a WIP.
Here is the backstory to my scorned White Dragonborn Paladin.
Artist Unknown
VarKesh had the silver spoon in his mouth at birth. He never lacked anything. He was trained as a paladin as soon as he took his first step. His mother passed at an early age and when it came to his training, his father walked the line between cruel and passionate and he did it well. "There was not much time for tenderness in a world full of evil" he always said. VarKesh knew his father cared for him and that was enough for him. The monotony of training quickly took his innocence and began to harden his senses and grind his conscience. He would do what had to be done to survive, protect his clan, and to preserve what he fought for. It wasn't until his father passed that he realized how much of his identity was tied up in him. All the money in the world was available to him and yet he had nothing. Many Paladins sought deities after their paladin training was complete and the most popular was Lathander. Being slightly too young to officially join the "Order of the Morning Lord" VarKesh talked the priests into allowing him to "shadow" the order and learn what he could. When his order was ambushed by a dragon cult, he watched in envy as his men cut them down. Something inside him burned to join in, but he knew if he did, the order would never initiate him. The fight turned, however, when fire licked across the ground killing 4 of his men instantly as a red dragon joined the fight. Forgetting the repercussions of his actions, VarKesh threw himself into the fight as the dragon landed with the intent of biting another of his men in half. With the dragon's head stretched out to bite, VarKesh took the giant blade of one of his fallen brothers and cleaved the head off. The fight turned quickly after that and the men cleaned up the rest of the cult. Instead of ostracizing him, the order initiated him. With the help of the order, he took the barbed head crest of the slain red dragon and fashioned it into a greataxe fit for a warrior king. In it was imbued with the fury and rage of the dragon. It fueled VarKesh's will and ironed out his fear and hesitation. "Temper" is what he called it. He quickly grew through the ranks of Lathander's order with Temper pulling him threw swaths of foes in reckless abandonment of his own safety; something that began to be apparent in his troops under him. It seemed every battle he would be farther and farther ahead of his men cutting a wedge in front of him where no-one could follow. His men began to hesitate during the fight, wondering if his rage would abandon them completely. In the end, only one man remained loyal and stood by his side through whatever he put them in. His name was VarKesh. The man who's name he would later take. Together they became unstoppable, testing fate as they would fling themselves into more and more dangerous fights with the light of Lathander and the fury of Temper securing their lives every time. He didn't realize the glaring truth that the order of Lathander had had enough. He didn't heed the warnings of the Leaders and even the dreams Lathander Himself gave him in his restless dreams. It was this way until one day where everything finally broke. Here is the story...
"The light breaks" He stammered to himself pulling the charred armor over his scales and cinching the leather bands tight, "Light cannot hide itself. It shines so bright in the darkness that even a near blind man can follow it to the source. VarKesh was a fool to flaunt it. Once the hordes of Tiamat saw that source, there was no end to the onslaught. We fought for days with no sleep piling up corpses in heaps like cord wood ready for a fire. We were promised the light would always shine for us; that Lathander would always bask us in His resplendent glory giving us almost insurmountable power. We were wrong. Once His boon left, our wounds closed much slower and the blood stayed on the ground after it left our bodies. The swords and arrows came much faster and the sting was much more agonizing. I saw then what the light truly was. A trap. Bait, like a mouse for a cat. I found myself stranded from my God in the valley of darkness with the hordes licking their lips. VarKesh fell in 3 pieces before he could even make sense of what befell him. There wasn't time to stop and ask why Lathander had left His chosen to fend for himself in his most dire of need. I didn't have the luxury to curse at the heavens for this act of betrayal. I had to make a choice. As the light faded, I saw darkness consume the once gleaming, swirling clouds till only wind could be heard above. I saw as the blanket of shadow closed in on me, flanking me as I stood surrounded by hundreds on all sides; pinpointed like a single bulls eye on a 10 acre game of darts. I had only time enough to make one decision. If the darkness truly was all I had left, I would put it to the test. Clenching my fists, kneeling and biting down hard I hissed though my intersecting teeth a challenge to Tiamat. A boast for the patron Blue Dragon mother. Even with her imprisoned this thousand years, Her sickness still affected the mortal realm in some manner and I knew ancients were far to self-indulged to let a boast go unnoticed. "Tiamat! You usurper to the origin throne of dragons! How many of your children must I pile up today? Enough to finally meet you eye to eye you bloated tangled snake?" I waited for two eternities as the darkness finally halted and the blades of the dragon cultists seemed to stop inches from my face. Slowly the shadows went from blacks and grays to shades of deep midnight blue, almost seeming to groan in contempt of the unnatural alteration. A thousand hisses slowly grew in sound over the painful silence. "A "bloated God" would need not to prove itself to another mere morsel." A visage of Seven impossibly large blue heads snaked out from the mist to get a better look at me. If I were graced with even 2 more feet, I would not stand as tall as a single tooth. Tiamat had come. "You are too small to even eat creatively, mortal" She taunted. I made luck my master as I took my blood soaked helmet off and tossed it aside and thrusted my sword into the mound of enemies where I now stood. "Make an example of me to your dogs, then! I don't play games!" The quip seemed to hit all seven heads differently and each seemed to laugh its own unique way, the blue mist escaping from their mouths with sparks skittering through it like spiders in a web. The combination hurt my ears. “I will honor the pact I made with Lathander this day mortal. What’s left of my army will remain intact and in turn, you will live to make another hill of whatever you see fit." Six heads turned and pushed back into the blue curtain leaving just the one left. “Know this mortal, I will dream of the day our paths meet again." With that, a pulse hit me in the chest and I fell down the heap of corpses until I hit the ground hard. When I lifted my gaze again, she was gone. I sat there silently as the army threaded around me as if I was a leper not fit to acknowledge. I hated that more. I was a fool to trust Lathander. I was nothing more than a convenience, and when he tired of me, I and those I love paid the price. VarKesh in particular. I pushed off my holy shoulder pauldrons Lathander Himself christened me with and stood; the light flickering out of my eyes......... I will continue to search for the light, but I will find little comfort in what I have to do now once I find it. An unfamiliar chill crawls up my legs, wraps around my waist and bleeds through my chest into my heart. “I will keep it contained for now. Truly there is no power in the light. The darkness will always overtake it. As the gleam of Lathander leaves my eyes and goes black, there is a single spark of blue.
The backstory for my new character Zadkiel. He is a Fallen Aasimar, Hexblade Warlock with the Soldier background. My GM asked me to give him some ideas around the patron as The Hexblade is vague, I believe purposely so. In my mind, it is the vengeful spirit of a Bheur Hag which after being vanquished by heroes became trapped in the Shadowfell. Unable or unwilling to pass on she now offers gifts to those in need, always at a price.
Warning: Some might find the text quite dark. It contains some reference to battlefield injuries and I wouldn't want to upset anyone.
Zadkiel sat upright on his stool, back to the bar. He tossed a coin to the barman as his glass was filled. He took a long deep drink from the glass, before turning back towards the commotion, a look of ire on his face.
Zadkiel was a tall man. He had long, scraggly brown hair which ran down the back of his head just past his broad shoulders. When no one was looking, his facial features were quite kindly. However, most of the time he wore a scowl, a grimace or a glare. When his face screwed up, you could hardly make out his deep-set emerald eyes and instead, struggled to make out two tiny coal-like spots of seething jet. A large scar shattered the handsome features of his face running from top to bottom across the left side at a slight angle. He wore tattered, leather armour which had been died black as well as baggy, forest green pantaloons over his well-fitting, functional and practical trousers. A necklace around his neck displayed a set of strange, otherworldly and jagged looking teeth. At his side, propped up against the bar; in the shadows just out of the sight of most, lay his sword and shield. The sword which was long and slender was stashed within its scabbard and appeared to those looking, to glint and sparkle, impossibly so, in the thick shadow beside the bar. The kite shield, painted white, bore a long since faded emblem.
Zadkiel stared at the kid across the way as they showed off their bright, shiny armour. The lad had just signed up and could be no more than seventeen summers old. They would likely not last out the year.
Zadkiel seethed not because he cared about this soldier, although he did, but because it brought back unwarranted memories.
Unbidden, and like motes of fire on a stiff wind they returned to him, and once again, he was on the battlefield…
Wading through a quagmire of blood and mud with his brothers in the dead of night. The rain hammered down upon them and they could see no further than fifty paces in any direction as they took shelter beneath an old, ancient, gnarled and oaken tree. Even Zadkiel with his enhanced vision was struggling to see, and the weight of responsibility pressed down upon him. All eyes were upon him though none would be elsewhere for all believed Zadkiel was blessed with good luck, and many wished to be in his squad.
A scream, deadened somewhat by the wind and rain drifted their way.
Thunderous squelching footfalls moved across the battlefield, just up ahead. Zadkiel thought he saw some movement. Something with a queer and unsettling gait skittered amongst them.
Then, in an instant, it was upon them.
Out of nowhere, something smashed into Zadkiels left side while emitting the most blood-curdling howl that Zadkiel had ever heard. He grunted as the wind was knocked from him and he was tossed face-first into the mud. Rolling quickly, he gasped in a quick breath, pulling himself to his feet.
Vin, Cuthbert and Zelrikt lay in pieces across the way. Their dismembered bodies wept thick crimson; the oak would drink well tonight.
His throat filled with air; he began to bark out orders, but his squad was gone.
Mardan trudged slowly; back within Zadkiels vision. A sudden blur of shadow darted as that mind rending howl erupted once again; chilling Zadkiel and draining away all fight left in him. Mardan slumped forward before Zadkiels eyes, his body parting across the chest. Horrified, Zadkiel made a prayer and prepared to die.
But strangely, his prayer was answered.
Instilled with new zeal he stood, grasping his sword and shield, and strode out into the darkness in search of his quarry. Crystalline, spectral frost began to form over Zadkiels armour and weapons. As the beast attacked, Zadkiels saw for the first time the dark and twisted form of a being that appeared to have been plucked straight out of the nine hells themselves.
In a flash of chill, azure, hoarfrost which erupted from Zadkiels extended sword a large gash of black sagging flesh fell from the creature just as it pounced. Its mouth opened in a shrill cry revealing rows of jagged bloodstained teeth. The feeling of dread crept over Zadkiel, but this time departed with a thought. He cursed as the beast’s mouth clamped down around his shield arm and pain coursed throughout his body, but the frost on his armour burned the creature. It cried out in pain as its teeth fell by the dozen, its gums black with atrophy.
Dropping his shield to the ground, his ruined hand hanging loosely at his side, Zadkiel leapt upon the stunned animal and, summoning all his strength, plunged his sword -- wreathed in icy frost -- into its back.
As the creature fell, writhing in the last throes of its existence, Zadkiel rolled to its side, eyes staring upwards into the night's sky as the rain pattered down, cleaning his mud-caked face. For a moment, before he passed into unconsciousness, he stared up at the branches of the tree, jagged and distorted, looming over him and swore he saw a face within them.
A pleased face. A greedy face.
The rats grew fat…
Shunning the painful thoughts Zadkiel turned back to the bar. Never would he fight for another again! Nothing good ever came from war or conflict and a rich man’s world was stacked upon the backs of the poor and lowly. In a never-ending wheel of carnage did kingdoms rise and fall. Each time men died by the thousands.
This time, Zadkiel tossed two coins to the barman and said in a thick guttural voice.
“I’d be much obliged if you'd give me something a little stronger”.
My character (I don't really have art for him), is a Goblin Bard. Basically, he (character's name is Raviel Insiel) was born into a cult called the Children of Gatiol, who worshipped an elder deity named Gatiol, The Wrathful Ouroboros. In actuality, Gatiol is just a cover name for Tharizdun, the Chained Oblivion, and at 5 years old, he was saved by an acting troupe of assassins named Rogue Roulette, who were more of a family to him than the cult ever was. The leader of the troupe, Maxwell, had just went on his own path after breaking off with his father's assassin guild organization Malignance, and on good terms, too. So afterward, Maxwell started a family with a water genasi named Rouge, and began the acting troupe. Raviel then, at the age of 15, attended a bardic college and wowed every single student with his big brain energy, including a dragonborn named Hemlock Radamunk, the daughter of an Avatar of Tiamat, hidden away from the world at a young age, raised by a fishing couple outside of Saltmarsh, until she decided to rough it out in the woodland planes and go to college to also become a bard. From there, the two began a super intimate relationship, which grew only stronger when they took down a lesser Lich, who was a former zealous classmate transformed into a disciple of Vecna. They decided to travel the world together as a new Bardic duo, Misty Souls, and that is where this backstory ends. I became a DM for a D&D Club we have on Thursdays at my Middle School, and from there, I decided that playing a DM PC wasn't such a good idea. So, to keep it canon, him and Hemlock both got transported to the Raven Queen's domain of dread, and are helping her fight the hordes of Orcus with their Bardic Inspirations and Charms. It seems to be working, and after a year, they became free, and ready for the world ahead of them.
Name: Sseltssin Yiggish
Race: Yuan-ti Pureblood
Class: Divine Soul Sorcerer
God: Yuan the Rainbow Serpent
Written in the style of a diary
My First Entry
So I decided to start noting down my diary, because like, people in the future will wanna know who I was! Because I’m like one of Yuan’s closest descendants!
Once upon a time there hatched a small girl (That's me! The amazing Sseltssin Yiggish) blessed by the great Yuan to do great things in great ways. It was quite clear very early on that I was meant for good things! When I was five I healed my own mom (her name's Apeppa Yiggish) from a serious stab wound. (Don't ask who caused that.) So of course everyone recognized me and I was the talk of the town. This was all back in Newland of course.
Big sister didn't really like that though. Her name's Jormun Yiggish, and she's a huge whiner. She's like a priestess or cleric or something? She's super mad that I can easily do what takes her years to study. She would get married to one of the abominations, a full on snake dude named Illuyankass Crotaluss. He is like one of the big shots in town, he actually wanted to marry me because he said I have the soul of Yuan. But hell no, I'm not marrying a guy twice my age. That was a bit insulting apparently, so he threatened my family. Mother settled the conflict though by having Jormun marry him. (Haha, that's what she gets) and sending me all the way to Andoross to work at the embassy.
I had no clue how to be an embassy...person, though. But no worries! I got to work for the abomination's cousin. This really smart, and kind, and pretty, and stern, and cool, and cute girl named Quetssal Crotaluss. (No! I don't like her, shut up!) Apparently she's the ambassador of the Yuan-ti to the Demon Lord. But she does other stuff too. Stuff that gets a bunch of people really hurt. But no worries! I am a genius healer supreme extra-ordinaire! So I healed all the peoples that were hired.
Then one day I decide, I am curious as shit to see what's actually going on. I am not stupid afterall, I know something's going on. So I follow this elf dude called Liutasil. (Dude's got psychic daggers, that's cool as heck. His roommate's kinda weird tho. Chakos, if you read this, **** you for peeking into my diary.) Liu is on some mission, and I sneak up on him, and he's like: “I know you're there.” So I am like, oh shit he figured me out. So I tell him I'm here to help. So we do the mission together. And it goes really well! So we do more missions together, and it's so much fun. (Don't bring up the knock incident, it only happened once...okay thrice.) So now we are this dynamic duo of master thieves so I start thinking, maybe elves aren't so bad, right?
This is when I met another elf. Pretty maiden (At least I think? Who can tell with the knife-ears.) called Renna. I followed her around for a bit and saw that she has like this cool ass legged-snake. (She calls it a drake.) So I wanna pet that. So I go up to her, and she allows me to pet the drake. Then this big ass white scalykind shows up right? So I ask if he's a drake too. That annoyed him. How am I supposed to know about Dragonborn!? (His name's Zethu by the way.)
So at this point I'm thinking that Elves are actually really cool right? So I wanna speak Elvish. Took me soooooo long to learn that stuff. But I did it! You should have seen Liu's face when I started talking in Elvish. (Liu, if you find this, sorry for calling you a Boar's end, didn't know that was an insult.)
But yeah, that's my life now, I sleep in a room at Quetssal's home, go check with Liu if there's something to do, if not I go see if I can pet Renna's drake and if both are a bust, I'll just heal some wounded people for silver. It's a good life, but I am kinda waiting for my destiny to come knocking. A soul of Yuan can't just fade into obscurity right? I'm too awesome for that!
I am also here.
Am snek.
Lazareth was once a devoted member and high-ranking Warlock of the cult of Baphomet. He was brought into them at a very young age and even made a deal with the great demon himself for a fraction of power. It was the usual recruit people, bring sacrifices, blah blah blah.... until one day. One... gods be damned day. One of the followers was about to do their sacrifice, until he saw it was a newborn child. They sacrificed men, women, and children in the past. But... This one was different. It was like me. A Tiefling. Something within him just snapped. One moment he saw the dagger hovering over the baby, the next, he is holding the dagger and baby surrounded by a bunch of dead cult members. In a panic, he quickly took the baby to a faraway village and gave her to a loving family who promised to take care of her and would even let me come see her. He quickly left and have been moving around a lot ever since, just making ends meet and sending money for dear Natasha to stay healthy. Baphomet wants him to suffer for what he did, so anytime he uses his magic, Baphomet tries to break his mind and control him to either hunt down Natasha, or to un-alive him.Put your spoiler here.
I've just completed a big homebrew document project for my Thursday night D&D character, antaxis (intentionally uncapitalized). If anyone is interested, it's linked below. Note it is a mismatch of official D&D content mixed with homebrew items I found on D&D beyond, Pinterest, my DM's homebrew campaign docs, along with my own creations. I'm not going to list what I've used because there is way too much but if something strikes you as not original, you're probably right.
Here is his character sheet:
https://www.heroforge.com/load_config=28097019/
And the aforementioned document:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/19Gxz3A1hQRG9Z0PXGxNHGvgst0jeaB8s/view?usp=sharing
The picture isn't loading, you can see what he looks like here:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xUTzMGIhpHcY3yBz_cmse0v9fbnMJGuW/view?usp=sharing
Sai Lytharian..
Hidden from society by their ability to become wolves at will, the Lythari Elves are quite rare to come into contact with. They usually run in packs in the wilderness to avoid suspicion from civilizations that they didn't wish to be discovered by and to be camouflaged while in the forest. Sai was the son of the pack's leader, Lagrias. The pack was discovered by a cult of orcs when one of their members tried to hunt of the pack's lead hunters while out in the wilderness. With no result in the attempt, the orcs tracked the pack's hunter and later ambushed the entire pack of Lythari Elves. The fight was long but the pack was outnumbered, Sai fought hard as his only friends and family were all slain, including his father Lagrias. The orcs captured Sai by the order of their leader and while transporting him back to their lair the caravan was attacked by the Harpers. The Harpers had been tracking the cult but were too late to save Sai's pack. The Harpers took Sai in, after discovering he had some skill with magic and also weapons they introduced him to their bladesinger members, who would teach Sai their ways. Sai was a quick learner and a great investigator and tracker. He became an honorable bladesinger and the only Lythari Elf to be part of the Harpers.
Although Sai's revenge was taken from him by the Harpers, he felt he owed them for their deed, so he stayed to aid in their missions and to defend others as he was defended. He used his wolf form to track down enemies and then his Bladesinging abilities if things became difficult. Sai showed no mercy to those he knew were killers or rapists even if it meant getting the lesser sum from the bounty and he would bring in those who committed lesser crimes. If the bounty was for an Orc he wouldn't accept payment, he would hunt them down and end any possibility of the Orc ever being heard of again. In his mind, each death of an Orc meant honoring fallen his pack members.
His visual occupation was a bounty hunter but he would secretly report in with the Harpers regularly.
(Forgive me if any of my lore was inaccurate, I'm still quite an amateur to dnd lore, but I enjoy stories. I also have a picture but am unsure how to add it from my phone)
An upcoming w.i.p Hexblood Wild Magic Sorcerer. Discord Nightshade
A poor couple was having trouble producing offspring. No matter how many how many times they tried they couldn't have kids. (The wife was infertile ;( ) when they were in their late forties, the husband went into the swamp to seek out someone who could make his wife capable of having children. He met Auntie Agatha Blackclaw, a green hag. She gave him a green potion that would give them a child in exchange for "the thing you love the most ;))))" not reading the fine print, the husband gave his wife the potion and she got pregnant not long after. After 9 months, she gave birth to a baby boy with.... green skin and antlers. (that was on the fine print) after the birth, Agatha Blackcloack took the thing the husband loved most... his wife. She died and the husband was so enraged he left his son out in the rain, but lucky for the son, he was whisked off to the feywild, where he was adopted by a sorceress who named him "Discord" as he lived in the feywild for 18 years, he slowly absorbed some of the feywild's magic and became a wild magic sorcerer. The sorceress trained him in sorcery and also in mixing potions, crafting trinkets and charms, and espionage. He left the feywild to prove himself on the material plane and make his adoptive mother proud.
Still a w.i.p backstory, but im really excited to play this character for my friend's upcoming campaign after we finish a Call of Cthulhu mini campaign
my name is not Bryce
Actor
Certified Dark Sun enjoyer
usually on forum games and not contributing to conversations ¯\_ (ツ)_/
For every user who writes 5 paragraph essays as each of their posts: Remember to touch grass occasionally
Was Having Difficulty being inspired for a Backstory for new character in new campaign - started reading through some on this thread. Saw one that sparked my interest and edited it to make it my own - Thx to LeK for original concept and framework, much of which is still within:
In his earlier years of life, Kethoth was infatuated by the idea of becoming a powerful wizard. His life in the village was fairly easy-going, although not luxurious. His father, Abe Sai'Eth, ran a moderately successful carpentry business. Kethoth and his younger brother Corthas always got along, running around the hills and dunes with their other friends, enjoying life. On one such sojourn they discovered the sands had shifted revealing a cave opening - an entry to an ancient Library. At the age of 16, Kethoth entered, discovering the lost library and its keeper. The Arch-Mage of the Library, Erreth, took a personal interest in him, inviting him to read to his hearts content - for a price.
The architecture of the Library was unique and who made it was unknown, but Erreth had been doing research on an ancient civilization that he suspected once ruled in this region. Amongst all the scrolls, tablets and books within its collection Erreth coveted an ancient tome bearing a mark that resembles a bone-like claw with three talons. Erreth was secretive about the book, revealing almost no information about it to Kethoth. For hours, Kethoth marveled over the words, tales, fables, histories and stories: drawn into the depths of the stacks about him and the ways of magic. But, as time passed, Erreth became erratic and Kethoth started noting the absence of his friends, his brother... he began to notice the disrepair of his clothing... how long had he been reading and learning?
Kethoth sought out Erreth to address his growing unease; only to find him hunched over the ancient tome with a crazed look on his face. As Kethoth approached the library around him dissipated into dust and ruin - instantly ravaged by centuries of time. Erreth reached out to Kethoth in a moment of clarity grabbing him speaking only two words, "stop him". And time took Erreth in the same terrifying manner as it had consumed the Library. Blinking into the darkness, Kethoth found himself surrounded by ruins in the grasp of desiccated husk - tattered papers pressed to his chest. Kethoth ran from the horror - thru ancient ruins past a multitude of bones and dust. The Sun stung his eyes, his surroundings familiar yet changed - his village was gone reclaimed by the desert sands ages ago - a small oasis formed around the ruins the village well. What had felt like hours to Kethoth within the Library had been centuries in the World. Kethoth was not spared physically, as he gazed upon his reflection in the oasis to see he to had aged and he wore but rags. He salvaged what he could from the village and ruined library and now travels the land, searching for answers about what happened to him... and what Erreth's warning could portend. The tattered papers pressed to chest representing the only clues he has to decipher the mystery of his past, present, and future - Erreth whispering to him in his mind, urging him to unravel it. Kethoth has resisted thus far, but curiosity is starting to get the better of him.
Oops I accidentally said something how do I delete this?