I've read some really interesting backstories. Some of ya'll are so creative. I'll share the character I've played the longest.
Name: Nikita
Race: Tiefling
Class: Sorcerer
Nikita was born to two loving parents. Her father Joe is a cobbler who has his own little shop. Her mother Ivy is a well respected seamstress who works for the town's richest ladies. The two made enough money to keep Kitty well fed, well clothed, and without many troubles. She went to school and had a bunch of friends. There is an area outside of town that the children were forbidden to be near for this area spawned scary dangerous things. Kitty was 12 when she and her friends decided to play in this forbidden spot. She ended up falling through a rift and into the Shadowfell.
Her first few days in the Shadowfell are nothing but horror, hunger, thirst, and just a sense of doom. Kitty soon found help, but the thing that helped her wanted something in return. She was barely able to escape with her life. The reason she was able to escape is because of magic, she'd taped into something within herself that unleashed on the creature. This connection to magic didn't go away and soon became something she relied on to survive. Kitty learned quickly some creatures are just mindless hunger, while others can be reasoned with. Both are super dangerous. Kitty learned that everything came with a price and many things will come to collect and collect more if you let them get away with it. The colorless landscape wasn't easy, but she did find ways to survive. Kitty lied, cheated, and stole to keep herself alive. Being alive in a place of death and undeath puts one in a very strange and uncomfortable position. She became the plaything of a lich for awhile and that horror still haunts her. Kitty gave the lich someone more interesting to play with and ran away while it was distracted. She found a few powerful things to hide behind briefly in case the lich was looking for her. There was no sign it was so she went on her own again. One day Kitty found a rift and just jumped through it.
Kitty found herself back on the prime material plane. The strange young woman found her rich dark green hair had turned almost white, her skin is always cool, and she breathes once every 30 minutes when sleeping. Also she soon found out that only 13 years had passed while she felt like she'd spent over 150 years in the Shadowfell. She just thought she got lucky and didn't age, but her age matches up to how much time passed in the prime material plane. If that was confusing enough the shadows still answer her call and reach for her. The more upset she gets the more the shadows try to help in some way.
The person that found Kitty wondering around took her to a main city where she answered questions. Kitty found herself in the country of her birth, just on the other side of it. Those in charge put her in a group home while they found her parents. Her parents were still alive and so happy to finally know what happened to her. Kitty was sent home with a group of soldiers who found her very weird and kind of scary. Once in her village Joe and Ivy were so happy to have her back. They just wanted to start life where it had left off, but soon found that it couldn't. Kitty kept weird hours and had developed some strange habits. Loud noises would set her off. Kitty was drawn to color and music and laughter even when she was supposed to be doing something else. She also had a hard time understanding the normal passage of time. It soon became known that no one should ever sneak up on her or she'd attack them. Kitty harmed a local teenager who thought it would be funny to sneak up on her. The teenager was the son of a powerful man in town.
Those in the village slowly learned what had happened to Kitty. Some believed she was just a liar, that she'd run to a big city and finally come back. Others believed that she hadn't been in the Shadowfell, but something had happened to her. Then there were those that believed her and believed that she was cursed. When she attacked the teenager it was decided that she was a danger to the whole community. Her father's shop had its windows broken and her mother's clients dropped her. Seeing that she was the cause of it Kitty decided to leave town.
Ivy and Joe begged Kitty not to go, but she knew she had to. She hoped that by leaving her parents would be welcomed in the town again and go about their lives. Kitty set out to try to find answers about what happened to her and also if there are others like her.
Gender: Male Hair: Brown Skin: Fair Eyes: Brown Height: 3' Weight: 40 lbs. Gender: Male
You were born in a simple community of farmers, the middle of 5 children. Though a bit short for your age even as a Halfling, life was pretty normal... with one glaring exception.
The exception is that the community often called you a troublemaker. It's not that you don't care for your family, friends, and neighbors - you still love them dearly. It that you always felt bored in your home village, an oddity among them - an unwelcome oddity at first. The family business of masonry gave you an outlet for aggression, but you feel most worthy when accomplishing some feat that others cannot - a trait that did not initially gain much appreciation at home, especially since you take to brawling when other competitive activities aren't regularly available. You are a rather decent scrapper in your community even though that's not really saying much.
As quite the town embarrassment but nothing remotely worthy of banishment, you were kept away from outsiders such as travelers and tradesfolk, and initially, that was fine with you. Your understanding of outsiders was stereotypical and xenophobic along with the rest of the community.
This changed when a group of travelers staying at the big-folk inn had one bad drunk among them. The only way such news could travel through your home community any faster would be through direct telepathy. Once the near-magically efficient gossip machine reached you, you went directly to the inn to find a giant Human drunkenly accosting everyone with a ill-kept sword. Your quick feet, small size, and persistence earned many knocks on the head and a few scrapes but also an eventual though slim victory against the disadvantaged, clumsy Human whose companions did nothing to assist.
Since that moment, the community considers you a welcome "necessary evil" rather than a nuisance, but the experience gave you a different idea. Your low opinions of outsiders did not changed in that moment, but you became convinced that the opportunity for excitement is not found in your home community. Despite believing that you would find everything missing in your life out in the world of big folk, leaving was still a very difficult thing to do. You still think about all of them and wonder how things are going.
You are now on your own in the big-folk world, but nothing is as cut-and-dry as you had thought. Commerce is a difficult concept for you. At home, you provided things people needed and people provided your needs in return. Working for coin (masonry) and having to use that coin to bargain for what you need seems rather unfeeling and a bit dubious. The ales do not flow nearly as freely as it does back home. Big folk are rarely the horrible louts like the one you encountered before setting out on your own, but you are always ready for any big folk with any fighting skill to turn into an opportunity for breaking the boredom of mundane life - something that has happened only twice in the few years you were away from home; one easy win, one waking up being cured (healed) at a nunnery. You never speak truly of either event as they are nothing truly worth speaking. You spun so many tales that you're not sure what really happened anymore.
You recently got wind of something called "adventuring" - something you thought you were already doing - and you feel that this "adventuring" is what you're seeking for both the necessity of coin and necessity of excitement. The rumor mill in the world of big folk doesn't work the same as back home, but you are still keeping your ears open for an "adventuring" opportunity.
NOTE: You do not identify as a Monk of any monastic tradition. You identify as a wayward mason seeking fortune through adventure with a penchant for wily fisticuffs. You will use the Monk mechanics to handle fighting.
Alignment: Chaotic Good Faith: Brandobaris Lifestyle: Poor Age: 45 Background: Folk Hero Personality Traits: Thinking is for other people. You prefer action. You get bored easily. When are you going to get on with your destiny? Ideal: Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer you away from your higher calling. Bond: You protect those who cannot protect themselves. Flaw: You have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink.
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Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider. My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong. I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲 “It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
Hi everyone, this is my first ever character that I have created and I would love any and all feedback, no matter how harsh. I am new to D&D and hope that I haven't gone overboard with anything. I have loved reading everyone else's posts and these have really helped me complete my own backstory, so thanks to everyone who has posted here.
Name: Noz
Race: Burrowing Kobold
Age: 6
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Folk Hero
Character Traits: "I idolize a particular hero of my faith and constantly refer to that person's deeds and example, as a result, nothing can shake my optimistic attitude."
Ideals: "Aspiration: I seek to prove myself worthy to my people and myself, so that I can help others and be remembered alongside other great heroes and to uphold my promise."
Bonds: "There are great evils in the land that must be destroyed to save lives. I must find them together with my brother. "
Flaws : "Living a sheltered life, I am very gullible and will often see good in people where there is none. "
Backstory: In Noz's tribe, all Kobold hatched during the festival of Kahlu, a legendary warrior from the tribe, who slew a great evil of the land and became a dragon, are raised in her visage. Noz and his fellow hatchmates were separated from most Kobold of the tribe and following years of training and teaching, were expected to venture from their tribe's village to protect its people and the land, just as it is believed Kahlu did.
Throughout Noz's childhood, he was surrounded by his hatchmates, but the one he grew closest to was Rak, a taller Kobold with fiery red eyes. They became inseparable over the course of their training. They became brothers. No matter how arduous the training, no matter long the sessions seemed, they would always brighten each others day, with a smile and a joke. On the eve of their 5th festival of Kahlu, they promised each other that they would travel the world and find this great evil, together.
Following this promise, Noz grew more obsessed over his belief in Kahlu, more so than any of his hatchmates. He learned, trained and fought with a resolve that bordered on fanatical - he had to be like Kahlu, he had to help his village, he HAD to find a great evil like Kahlu once did, anything less would prove that he wasn't worthy of the destiny given to him and that he couldn't be there for his brother when he needed him.
On the 6th festival of Kahlu, Noz and his hatchmates were presented to the village and were met with cheers and adoration. Now, each would be assigned a partner, and they would duel for the right to leave the village. The victors would be named champion, the losers would be branded a failure and would be forbidden to leave the village.
Noz watched as his friends fought one another to the joy of the crowds, as the duels of Kahlu were the pinnacle of the festival. As champions were crowned and the cheers grew louder, Noz stepped into the arena with bated breath and saw his assigned opponent. A fighter, who could easily best the other hatchmates. A friend, who Noz promised to stand beside. A brother, who he loved like no other.
Crowds around the pit grew as the final duel of the festival began, but as each blow between Noz and Rak were parried and dodged, tears streamed from both their faces and only silence filled the arena. Blow after blow, their sword arms grew heavy until Rak stepped back and dropped his blade. "I surrender."
As a final cheer surged through the crowd, Rak slowly walked to Noz and after looking into his eyes for what seemed like eternity, he fell into Noz and began sobbing. Before Noz was carried away by the village elders as champion, Rak told Noz that he was going to keep his promise. One day, he would leave the village, no matter the cost and find Noz, so that they could fulfill their promise.
After leaving the village, equipped with the finest tools and armour they could give him, Noz found himself in a verdant forest, with sounds and smells all new to him. Remembering the many tales of Kahlu, Noz started his adventure with courage and hope, he would live as Kahlu - a good and just warrior, searching for the lands greatest evil. Noz reached into his backpack and picked out a crudely carved Kobold with red paste covering its eyes. He will find his brother, and they would be spoken about like legends, together.
Thanks for reading, and sorry if this isn't that great - I would love to hear anything you have to say!
Elandrir was once the might and powerful god of evocation, but someone cursed him to be striped from most of his magical knowledge and reborn as a cute kobold.
He’s is VERY annoyed. Now he is shearling for a way to become a god again.
I call this kind of trope, "a DM's playground." Almost zero established backstory. The DM can make up anything for character hooks.
Vague Tiefling Ranger 1
Gender: Male Hair: Black Skin: Fair Eyes: Solid white Height: 5'10" Weight: 180 lbs.
You have flat, scaly horns that start from above your brow toward the back of your scalp, ending in a small up-curl on each when they reach the back your skull. Your tail is the same fair color of your skin and smooth except for a spade at the tip.
Summary: Amnesiac found dying in a formerly insular Human commune, New Crommerth, in the Bluuwoods outside the city, Dalesdell, and now the only non-Human and a fond member of the welcoming commune.
Details: The priests who were becoming disquiet with the growing xenophobic atmosphere of their congregation took your unsettling arrival as a test for the commune. With the help of the Mothers and Fathers of the kirk of Brigantia who cured you, you were slowly introduced into the commune and became one of their own. There were some rather major bumps along the way to acceptance, but the teachings of the kirk and (ironically) an old, crotchety woodsman named Borond, won over the small populace with the value of your character.
More details: From books from the city, the priest's research into curing you and trying to discover your identity revealed nothing about who you might be, that Tieflings and Fiends are only peripherally linked, that you can speak and read Common and Elvish, that you can read but not currently speak Infernal and Abyssal, and that a common Tiefling tradition is to take a name of an aspect or quality. For a name, you chose a word with origins in old pre-Common meaning "to wander" (vagus) with the modern meaning of "uncertain".
The Mothers and Fathers took the inability to speak Infernal and Abyssal as a good sign that you were severed from any fiendish influences from your life. You don't know what to make of the fact that you know Elvish.
The town has, since, become more welcoming of outsiders from their experiences with you, and the commune is gaining a reputation of a friendly place, but you are still wary of outsiders. Someone in the world left you to die, after all. So when in situations that could bring you in contact with outsiders, you take to wearing a hood to hide your horns and wearing loose trousers to hide your tail wrapped around your right leg. You sometimes pretend to be blind with acute senses when you personally encounter outsiders when on your own.
You live in the kirk as you have since you awoke, and you're one of the commune's evening hunters in the Bluuwoods as trained by Borond. During the harsh seasons when travellers are scarce, you can be found in the tavern in the mornings, hooded, playing the viol with whomever might be around that morning. Your viol stays in the kirk otherwise. (A viol is similar to a viola but played upright like a cello and not under the chin.)
Life was simple, peaceful, and even fun... until one day, a DM got involved. :P
Alignment: Neutral Good Faith: New Crommerth Kirk of Brigantia and follower of Hestia (same as Borond) Lifestyle: Poor Age: ~30? Languages: Common, Infernal (read only), Abyssal (read only), Elvish Favored Enemy: Beasts Favored Terrain: Forests Background: Outlander Tool proficiency: Viol Origin: Hunter-gatherer/Unknown Personality Traits: You watch over your friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups. You feel far more comfortable around animals than people. Ideal: Greater good. It is each person's responsibility to make the most happiness for the whole commune. Bond: Your commune is the most important thing in your life, even when they are far from you. Flaw: You are slow to trust members of other non-Human races, other communities, and other societies.
Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider. My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong. I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲 “It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
Forget a character backstory.... Iv'e made a backstory for an entire organization! It is related to my character, as she is part of this organization. Let us begin...
Many, many, MANY, years ago, there was a man known as Elcius Entraire, known as the Golden Sage. He was known for his wisdom and generosity. One day, while exploring some mountains, he came across a mysterious golden crystal. Upon investigating it, he discovered it was a externally powerful source of arcane energy. Elcius was amazed at the power, but immediately realized that this sort of power would be dangerous in the crystal fell in the wrong hands. After he returned home, he worked to create a band of adventurers determined to protect the crystal at ll cost. And so, the Entraire Society, was born.
Elcius wanted to keep the crystals existence a secret to reduce the possibility of attempts to steal it. But despite his efforts, a powerful lich under the name of Grendel eventually heard about this powerful relic, and the temptation was way too much. Grendel attacked the headquarters of the Society and successfully made of with the crystal, now known as the Golden Crystal of Entraire. Using the crystals power to make him the king of the liches, Grendel then planned to use the power of the crystal to make the whole world undead. With Elcius's worst fears coming true, he quickly lead a party after the villain, and quickly arrived at Grendel's palace: Mortum Maladium. One epic battle later, the band had managed to retrieve the crystal from Grendel, but Elcius was badly wounded. Old about about to die, Elcius used that last of his power to seal Grendel and his palace in a pocket dimension, which destroyed the old mans body in the process. As if out of pity, the Golden crystal did something amazing: It allowed the spirit of Elcius to enter it, thus creating a bond between the crystal and the Entraire Society. Elcius's son, Rupert, returned the crystal to it's rightful place and set on making the Society better than ever.
That was the History of the Entraire Society. Now, during present times, the Society is managed by a select group of individuals known as the Council of Entraire. My character is a member of this Council, and actually one of the most well known: Hermione Entraire.
She is the daughter of a powerful sorcerer, living peacefully near the city of Elcius. Her mansion, The Safe Haven, is located beyond the neighboring swamp, and is where she keeps all of the treasure she collected, as well as her adventuring gear. She longs for adventure, often joining adventuring parties just for the fun of it. This has made her extremely rich, which is shown in her signature red dress, which is tear proof, stain proof, and cant be tarnished in any way. She almost never takes it off. She has spent countless hours of training and study in order to be able to cast her vast array of spells. She is always looking for new spells to learn. Also, she has natural psychic powers that she had since birth. Her main fighting style is hit hit hard with spells, control and confuse, or to toy with the target. Her eyes glow bright white when channeling her most powerful magic. Her hobbies include reading, singing, and dancing. But her oddest hobby is simulating distress, binding herself with rope or other objects in her free time. Fortunately, she can tell the difference between playtime and real danger. She is a direct line family member of the Entraires, so she naturally joined the Entraire Society. Like the other members, she vows to protect the Golden Crystal of Entraire, a family relic with insane power. Her sheer mastery over the arcane makes her a well valued member of the Society. In fact, she is the youngest member of the Council of Entraire, and one of the most well known. However, she is often stranded in an unfamiliar world with the crystal, usually because of a natural rupture of space-time. She is not afraid to use the crystal in combat if necessary when this happens. And if she somehow loses it, she won't return to her home world until she gets it back. Her arsenal of spells and her red outfit has given her the nickname "The Scarlet Spellcaster"
Yeah that's her all right. Well I hope you enjoyed, And I am sorry If this felt like a lot of words.
Hi all just wanting a bit of feedback and or proofing of some backstories for characters I have written for My DM's Homebrew world. can be found here - Kinin
Here is a link to each character, please let me know which one you like the best.
Many dark corners remain in this world. Untamed jungles and black pits where monsters lurk. There are shadowed valleys where evil walks without fear.
Grigore Ottgop is from one such place, the small village of Vernwood nestled between the northernmost Pinelands and Snow Mountains. Vernwood’s soil is cold and the Ottgop family’s stove was frequently empty. Wolves howled through long winter nights. People vanished.
Born to undistinguished serfs, Grigore might have expected only a short life of sorrow and toil. Some twist of the stars changed his fate, however. The happy, brown-haired gnomling had a gift for the arcane. Just aged four, Grigore amazed his parents with illusory parrots and doves. At eight, he transformed gruel to flavorful stew. And at age thirteen, Grigore was the wonder of the town.
His abilities caught the eye of a lord in those parts, the fearsome devil Zmeu. The devil plucked Grigore from his home and took him into his service at Ogrefell Castle. In time, Grigore was enrolled at the Scholomance - the infamous academy of dark rites hidden beneath Lake Hermannstadt.
For seven years, Grigore studied in those dank depths without seeing the light of day. The instruction was difficult and exams sometimes fatal, but Grigore persevered. He learned much, eventually excelling in illusory magics. Grigore wove fantasies which deluded the mind and deceived the senses.
The Scholomance has many graduation ceremonies. Most are evil and many unspeakable. One, however, is legend. The drawing of Tarot. Three cards which bind a student’s fate.
Grigore drew these three,
The Magician
This card is almost given for a student of the Scholomance. Incantations tattoo their ears, magics bids their fingers, and secret glyphs crawl behind their eyes. For all his days, arcana would be Grigore’s greatest tool and mightiest weapon.
The Devil
An unlucky card, but perhaps unsurprising for a servant of Zmeu. Grigore’s life would not be his own, but served in bondage to a greater force. The Devil’s demands are great and his punishments harsh, but this fate is not ruinous. Even servants might grow fat on kitchen scraps and snicker behind closed doors.
The Fool
This card is disaster, the most unhappy draw. The Fool is the archetype of mortals’ suffering. It is blighted vanity, delirious apathy, and meaningless struggle. Grigore must journey endlessly towards an unknown destination. Every ploy must ultimately fail him. His every victory must eventually turn to ash.
This dire reading sealed Grigore’s fate. Zmeu was most displeased.
Hoping Grigore might carry his bad luck away with him, Zmeu dispatched Grigore south. He was to tend his master’s business, gather secrets for the Scholomance’s masters, and most importantly, keep his unfortunate fate to himself.
Since then, Grigore has travelled far from Ogrefell Castle. Hearing rumors of a lost mine and dark doings, he has come to the abandoned village of Thundelin. Grigore struck a bargain with the young green dragon there, agreeing to serve the beast for a year and a day in exchange for information. Grigore never intended to keep this deal, but his plot went sideways when he was discovered attempting to escape in the night.
Now Grigore sits in a cage and amuses himself with naught but illusions.
Here's a backstory I've been crafting for my first character, he's a wizard and a half elf and I think I did a good enough job with it.
Tyrian was born from a human and half elf couple of powerful wizards and is the only son to Margra Hilderon and Tyrus Thotharius.
In his earlier years of childhood, his parents had come to join a small village named Velanderil and with time and effort, they had established it into a great community for all races to live and work with one another safely and respectfully. They had become well respected members thanks to their aid in the development of the area which helped them to thrive amongst their neighbours against threats of famine, disease and disaster. His father, an elf taught the magic of his people to his mother who in turn used it to advance their country forward and defend them from their enemies, he was the scholar and she was more or less the warrior of their family. Everything was prosperous. The attack was unforseen which made it all the worse. As brutal and as savage as wolves, a battalion of spellcasters besieged Velanderil, they made use of an infernal power that was so dark and crude that it completely tore apart the arcana his parents had come to use against them. They called themselves the "Grand Choir", they were a mysterious group of warlocks who, with the aid of their god, razed Velanderil to the ground. In a desperate attempt to help the legacy of the village, Tyrian and his family along with a few of the younger villagers fled while the elders and warriors stayed to fight, of course they lost. Tyrian spent his latter childhood and his earlier manhood with his parents as they reestablished the village's survivors into a travelling caravan that roamed across the world to avoid detection from the growing choir. The Thothariuses brought the caravan back to a modest form of prominence, they made trade such as jewels, tools, armour and meals and they used magic to service those who needed it whenever they were passing through and when they came to rest, they would dance and feast as an entire family. They would teach one another, share stories and train together. It was around 15 that Tyrian expressed his deep interest for the arcane arts like his parents and had been learning from them the basics, from them he learned spells he could now cast with ease. Many years flew by and the threat of the choir came rushing in again when Tyrian was of age 18. The choir had been attacking villages and countries that Tyrian's family had been passing through in search of them, as a response, some of the members of the caravan, against warnings, went out in search of the members of the choir who had been searching for them. That didn't help. They never returned and in a few days time, the choir had caught up with their location and route. Out of fear and desperation, Tyrus, had opted to make a plan that would benefit them all. Tyrus took a lantern and placed an enchantment on it. The enchantment would hold the souls and bodies of the villagers inside of it safely for a set period of time, after which they would all be brought back to the real world when the choir had gone past them, the catch was that one person had to stay behind, Tyrus opted to stay. The caravan agreed and Tyrian's father began the spell while his mother prepared a hiding place but as fate would have it, it was all botched. The choir arrived sooner than expected and during the spell's preparation half the caravan was slaughtered and the lantern was damaged. The lantern, instead of placing everyone inside for a set period of time, cast them in there along with Tyrus. In an attempt to fix the problem, Tyrus cast a last ditch spell that modified the enchantment to leave a soul of arcane experience out of the lantern, this is why Tyrian stayed. Realising nwhat had happened after a brief moment of confusion, the young man acted quickly and took the lantern with him into hiding, he waited long but they eventually left and Tyrian came out of hiding. He tried to undo the spell his father cast but it was too powerful without much of an option left, Tyrian began to wander the world in search of a way to undo this spell.
He met the Thotharius family friend, Belphegor, an elder tielfling man who took care of him for a time before the Half-Elf set off in search of answers. It was during this journey that he met Gerald, the human hermit, wizard and master of his mother. Gerald was a key player in teaching Tyrian more spells to combat the forces that would oppose him and was instrumental in helping Tyrian figure out how he might have been able to break the lantern's enchantment.
The lantern had an enchantment similar to a bag of holding with the exception of a few modifications, Gerald instructed that Tyrian would have to search for method of how the bag of holding was made in order to understand how to deconstruct the spell safely, in order to undo the modifications, he would have to look elsewhere since not even Gerald knew how his father modified the spell. Gerald gave Tyrian a specific route to follow to find different wizards, sorcerers and libraries that he could look to for help in the matter before he sent the young man on his way. Now 20 years old, Tyrian is travelling around the lands to find the answers he needs.
Well after listening to a Entrepreneur book for the past copable of weeks, I came up with Quartz the goblin merchant.
There was fire in the goblin worn. To young Quartz he didn't understand why they were screaming and running or why his mother put him in a wicker basket. "mommy! what is going on?"
"Quite!" She ran to the back of the worn where the tribe's stream was and put the basket into it.
"Mommmy!" that was the last time Quartz saw her as an adventurer struck her down. The stream carried Quartz to the surface river. Until lady Odilia fished the basket of the river. Odilia was compassionate woman who took the young Goblin in. At first it was like trying to tame a wild dog, confused and scared Quartz fought her tooth and nail especially around bath time. Odilia gave Quartz the best education she could. She taught him to play the lute, to read and the value of coin but above all the art of the haggle. Odilia loved market day of their small village to her it was the opportunity to meet with friends, what Quartz love most was the days when exotic goods merchants came into town. With their strange animals, pungent spices, metal works of all description and works of all kinds of arts.
The most important of these merchants was the one that called him over and asked him. "Well my young Goblin friend, each time i make this run you are here with your questions and always try to sell me some of your glass works. But I have something speacel for you today." gesturing to the tarp covered cage. " This here is an example of a rare and exotic creature. That I was contracted by the great king Snow Beard of the dwarves to acquire for him. So, my young friend can you tell me where the creature came from." He pulled the tarp off.
Clapping his hands in delight at the joke Quartz said. "No, that's not an exotic creature! That's Miss lassies' old tom cat Buster." Chuckling the merchant released the angered feline. That night the merchant came to lady Odilia's house and offered for Quartz to become his ward and apprentice to the merchants guild. Troubled Odilia asked to sleep on it. Quartz couldn't sleep thinking how great his life would be as a merchant. So, he snuck onto the cottages roof to look at the stars.
"Can't sleep?"
"yes maim"
"I thought about DeCards offer and I think it would be good for you. I taught you as much as I can here, its time for you to see more of the world just don't forget old Odilia." Hugging her Quartz swore on all the goblin gods, all of whom who didn't count Quartz as a fallower, that he will come and visit as much as possible. He visited her a copable dozen times as his travels took him back to the village. His last visit was after finishing his apprentice ship. That time the small town was razed to the ground by a band of bandits. Running to the nearest town he found the refugees of the town but no Odilia. Putting the refugees to the question they told him of the story of how bandits came into town a month ago boosting of plundering a tomb. A few days of down time had the bandits itching for some entertainment and decided to torment the villagers. What stroke fear in Quartz's heart was the description of the bandits symbol dredged up his worst nightmares of the worn the adventurer who slaughtered his people. After twenty years he had his first lead and connections to fallow that lead, but he also had the mystery of Odilia solve as well. Only time will tell if he finds the answers.
This is my current character on Realmsmith's Discord: Vontevious Smyth XII
When the third son of the Sheradan Smyths, a rich noble family of masons and jewel crafters, woke up on his fifteenth birthday he found that his half-elf features were replaced with a set of pointed horns, ash grey skin and a set of hooves where his feet used to be. Terrified by his appearance, he frightened his mother and unveiled the family secret. An ancestor of his had cut a deal with a devil for a rich vein that gave the family their fortune. The price: a random child of their family would become a teifling.
Angered and embarrassed by the transformation, he left his family to live on the streets for a few years until he came upon a celestial named Nondriel. He stuck a pact with him to purge himself of his demonic blood with the completion of slaying a great evil. With the power of celestial light granted to him, he intrepidly set off, for Barovia.
Hey, everyone. I wanted to share another backstory and I happened to have a recently drafted version of this one. After posting my last backstory (“Penance” can be found on pg. 43), which was also my first post on the forums, I decided on something more light-hearted and humorous since Penance’s story is on the darker, more traumatic side. Anyway...
This is the story of Gordy Scrapple, the Human Fighter and not-so-masterful chef from the village of Shittyside.
Campaign: Home-brew. Starting level: 5. Background: Folk Hero.
The kingdom of Sunnyside is nestled within a serene and fertile valley... but Gordy Scrapple lived across the woods from the kingdom, in the swampy village of Shittyside. He owned a bistro there where he was also the head chef. He named his business "The Gift of Grub.”
Gordy loved to cook for his customers but mostly made his living working for the brute squad, fighting off bandits and beasts attacking the village from the woods. After a hard-fought afternoon of brute-squading one day in the midst of one of Shittyside's frequent famines, Gordy decided to use meat from his pile of monster carcasses to thicken up a stew. The result was astounding. The stew was phenomenally delicious and Gordy had to serve it at his bistro. But first, he brought his dish to every head chef in the village to spread the recipe around and announce that the famine was over!
The meat was a huge hit with the other restauranteurs and word about the scrumptious new discovery spread fast. Villagers from all over Shittyside were enjoying Gordy's recipe. The meat had nearly all been used up when the first people started getting sick. The locals called it the Brown Wave. Quite a shame considering the catastrophic damage to the recently installed plumbing (a milestone significant enough for the village to establish a holiday to honor it.)
Ten days after the plumbing was shut off, Shittyside was paid a visit by the Earl of Sunnyside, Sir Benedict Hollandaise. The Earl was intrigued by rumors of this legendary meat stew on the other side of the woods. So it came down to Gordy. All the other chefs were too sick to boil water let alone prepare a hot meal for a lord. Eating the monster meat had also affected Gordy but it was nothing 20 strenuous minutes in the community crapper couldn't fix.
Cooking said meat for the Earl was out of the question. Luckily by now all the monster meat had either been eaten or thrown out. Gordy had to prepare a stellar-tasting stew and make Lord Hollandaise believe he was eating an exotic beast. He put all of his efforts into attempting to fool the Earl, including disguising his ugliest hog as one of the monsters yet despite it all, Lord Hollandaise reportedly fell ill and died after returning to Sunnyside Castle. Now he'd really shit the bed. Despite how carefully he'd prepared the dish, Gordy Scrapple had unintentionally committed regicide. Although he thought he was certain of the ingredients, some monster meat must have found its way into the pot yet he could not fathom how.
But the kingdom had decided his guilt and condemned poor Gordy. He considered leaving his home but he was surprised to receive a hero's treatment from the village for his "courageous act." The Earl was dead and that meant that the woefully unlawful tariffs imposed on food and supply transports through the woods would finally dissolve. The famine was truly over thanks to Gordy! He was forgiven for unleashing the Brown Wave and even had his bravery honored with a brand new holiday in his name however, in the law's eyes he was a criminal of the highest order so begrudgingly, he purchased a wagon and left his village behind. However, the legend of Gordy Scrapple spread as he traveled from village to village, taking his beloved culinary craft on the road with his new traveling business, "The To-&-Fro Bistro." Gordy is a hero of the commoner and a wanted man in search of good folks, good grub, and a good fight once in a while.
Rough draft for a human Evocation Wizard I just finished up.
Liana Monate was born and raised near New Olamn in Waterdeep. She was a moderately privileged youth, often spoiled by her godfather, and future mentor, Justod Bitral. Liana was sponsored by her mentor in 1489 for admittance for apprenticeship in the Blackstaff Academy. She excelled in her studies, especially as it pertained to evocation. Justod had even taught her his signature way to cast Firebolt that would burn flesh but leave inanimate objects like clothing unharmed. The years at the academy passed quickly but as Liana spent more time with her mentor, the more she knew something was off. She often found him leering at her and one night she had to rebuff his advances. Nothing would be the same after that. Justod would often be rude and snide. He would give her extra work, and eventually she suspected him of sabotaging her work. She knew that she could not expose him as it would be her word against a respected instructor. But, she knew something had to change. One afternoon while Justod was giving a lecture, Liana broke into his study and searched his belongings. She found a salacious love letter from the Bala Girdow, spouse of a fellow instructor at the Academy. She knew that if she could obtain the letters Justod wrote to his paramour, that she would have something she could use against Justod to get him to back off and leave her alone. Liana made a plan to sneak into the dwelling of Justod's illicit lover during a scheduled celebration. On the night of the event, Liana watched as Bala left with her husband Colv for the celebration. Liana made her move. She slipped in through a window with a pilfered knock scroll and proceeded to search the belongings of Bala. Eventually, she found success. Stuffed in her stocking drawer where two letters with enough raunchy details to give her plenty of protection. As she was making her way to the open window, Bala came back home. she had left her clutch and returned home to get it, catching Liana in the act. Seeing what Liana had in her hands, Bala flew into a rage and physically attacked Liana. They struggled and the larger Bala was clearly winning. Bala had no intent to let Liana leave the room alive, with letters in hand or not. Her husband was a cruel and vindictive man and she feared what he would do to her. As Liana was slowly having the life choked from her body, she seized up one final act to save herself, the signature Firebolt. Liana let go with her left hand and traced the symbols required while she choked out the command word for the spell and she shoved a mote of fire right into the face of Bala. Bala stiffened as if struck by lightning and and fell dead to the floor. As Liana lay on the floor attempting to regain her breath, she looked up only to see Bala's husband Colv standing stupified at the scene of death in his home. It was then that he noticed the discarded letters near the body of his wife and he immediately recognized the familiar broken wax signet of Justod on the letters. As Liana lay on the floor afraid to move or make a sound in the presence of the husband of the woman she had just killed, Colv read the letters with a stoic expression. As he finished the letters, he slowly looked up at Liana and paused while he appeared to consider his next action. Liana had yet to move, to barely breathe. Colv slowly said, "Leave... Leave the city. Do not return, on penalty of death. You have until sundown tomorrow to be gone." Liana did not know what to make of this generosity. Colv could have killed her where she lay. he could have turned her into the authorities, but he was letting her go, and she was not going to waste this second chance. She quickly ran home and gathered her things with the intent to leave first thing in the morning. She would send her parents a letter explaining her departure when she arrived in the next town. On her way out of town the next morning, the streets were buzzing with some major news. She inquired with a local crier as the news, fearing it was about her crimes. She was told that Justod had been arrested for the murder of the wife of one of his arch rivals - that he had apparently killed her with one of his signature spells. It was then that Liana realized what had happened. Colv had used this opportunity to take out one of his rivals while also keeping the affair secret. Liana had been used - and she was OK with it.
Rather long backstory of my Water Genassi Monk sailor/pirate - K'rill Windward. Haven't played him yet, but he's a backup for a homebrewed "Ancient Greek" themed campaign (before Theros was a thing yet.)
K'rill has spent most of his life within a mile of the water. Much of it actually IN the water. He was born on a boat, he lived with his family in a series of small residences by one of the wharves in Waterdeep, and honestly never saw much reason to stray from the water. As a kid, the farthest he had to go was to school, which he hated. Mostly, because it was too far away from the water for him to be able to smell the ocean air, or hear all but the most violent of the crashing waves. And, because the other kids teased him - because he was small, because he was green, because he often looked wet. The mean ones started calling him "krill" because he was small and thin. When he was older, he appreciated the value of the krill... the largest beasts in the oceans survived almost exclusively on them! He took that name almost as a badge of courage, and… since he was fairly easygoing - able to ride easily on the breezes, he adopted "Windward" as his surname, whenever that was actually required.
K’rill Windward obviously worked on his father Piscene’s fishing boat, the “Djinni Haniver.” He was eager to learn everything about fishing, sailing, mending nets, setting traps, and the more esoteric skills: reading the water, watching the seabirds, keeping a weather eye on the horizon. It was his mother, Mael, (who was also a Genassi) who took him to a local man for training, so that he could better protect himself. This old man, Norio, spent time with him after K’rill completed his chores, and though a series of tasks and exercises, built his strength, reflexes, and awareness. He repaired more nets, braided ropes, scrubbed barnacles from ship’s hulls, and countless other menial tasks. But, despite himself, he was getting wiry and resilient. Then, once his body and mind were ready, Norio taught him how to defend himself and fight – but only if all else failed.
Trying to build a name for himself, as a teen he started crewing on other ships. He wanted to stand on his own, and not just be “Pi’s kid.” He worked on many fishing boats, bringing home any earned money that he didn’t spend at a tavern first. Then, he started serving on merchant ships, traveling up and down the coast, delivering cargo. But, after losing money gambling, and other misfortunes, he started doing risky things to earn more silver and the rare gold, and got himself into a bad crowd. One friend, Owyn, whom he met while crewing on the merchant ship “Fire Woman” suggested he go with him to another ship. This one was bad news, but the sailors – pirates, really, - would come back to port with more than enough gold to throw around. So, the night before he was supposed to set sail on the ramshackle galleon “Tits of Glory,” he got truly drunk, and got in a dispute, that turned into a fight, that turned into a massive bar brawl. And he broke the constable’s son’s forearm and cracked his jaw.
He spent a couple of days in prison, and the ship left without him. It was probably for the best, since he never saw Owyn again, and he heard that maybe the “Tits of Glory” sunk in a terrible storm off a reef. But, his luck turned sour again, after catching the eye of the constable’s daughter, Dainica, who came in several times to bring her father some food and messages while K’rill was locked up. But she seemed to linger, and K’rill caught her often trying to hide that she was looking at him. He gave her a smile when he caught her peeking his way. After he was released, the inevitable happened – and constable Drazhan caught them. Well, K’rill at least escaped capture, but had to run and hide while Drazhan sent the whole town watch on his tail, searching every bar, warehouse, flop house, alley and dockside looking for him. As a last resort, with angry men charging after him with torches, nets, and chains - he clambered onto a departing ship, the “Shearwater.”
Which was also a privateer. But, this one was smaller, quicker, and obviously well respected by captain and crew. Captain Kilvar, perhaps admiring K’rill’s gumption, didn’t immediately throw him overboard. Instead he kept him on board, in a “probationary” period. Once he had served enough time on stowaway rations, swabbing the decks, and sleeping in the bilge, K’rill was allowed to join the crew. He was often picked on, but using what he had learned from Norio, he was able to hold his own, and he earned the respect of the seasoned crew. He excelled at managing the rigging, and eventually rose up the ranks, from Powder Monkey, to Master Rigger, then up to Boatswain. He fared well on the “Shearwater” and really enjoyed adventuring on the rough seas. He didn’t enjoy the more vicious aspects of the pirate life, but the plunder, and shipboard camaraderie, made it worthwhile. His weapon of choice, aside from his hands, was a customized Bosun’s hook – he used a common 6 ft rigging hook, but he added a blade to the back side of the hook end, and weighted the handle end so that it was nimble in his hands. It was sort of a short, balanced spear, with a blade on one edge, and a hook on the other. Perfect for mooring lines, or piercing ribcages. He just had to be careful any time they were in Port Nyanzaru, lest constable Drazhan hear of it.
Back in the last Gnome civil war between the Deep gnomes and the Rock gnomes for control of the land rights in Eberron, a small group of neutral Forest gnomes made a tidy living making weapons and instruments for either side that could pay.
Gerbo Turin or Ziggy to his friends was one of those Gnomes, after the war along with his brother Fred they moved to the Barrier Peaks in Greyhawks and set up a business together making musical instruments and clockwork objects, and sometimes infusing them with magic.
Marina - Water Genasi warlock:
Marina is a water Genasi, a lonely soul who lives on a quiet stretch of the river Eastry on the Sea of Fallen Stars. She is content growing herbs and tending to the sea and shore creatures that live in harmony. As a powerful warlock she will sometimes join a quest to asist people who need her skills, it is on this journey that she found herself here.
How generic can you get? I'll tell ya, a human redemption paladin kinda generic, that's where I'm at.
Arkil of House Hightower
Arkil is a younger son of a noble family, the house Hightower, and as such knew from a young age that in order to truly leave his mark on the world, he couldn't rely on his heritage; a privilege of his older siblings. He was trained as any noble son in the use of weapons as well as riding, history and politics of the land. He never took these studies particularly seriously, aware from a young age that his destiny lie beyond that of run-of-the-mill nobility.
He took an interest in the craft of the castle healer, becoming an apprentice of sorts to this elderly woman called Ma'm Gray. His parents did not approve, deeming the healers' craft as a calling for commoners, so Arkil had to sneak off to receive his lessons. Ma'm Gray taught young Arkil of her god, Diancecht the Physician, and of His sacred Well of Healing, the Tipra Slaine, around which a temple had been erected. An order of knights templar dwelt there, lending their skills to all peoples in need, protecting the weak and healing the infirm.
So it was that Arkil on his fourteenth name day quit the castle to seek a place among the Order of the Well, a choice his family was less than pleased with. He was accepted among the Aspirants, and proved a promising prospect during his training. In time, he secured a rank in the Order, now travelling the land to spread word of his god's teachings and to lend aid to those in need.
Another tap into the well of tropes-well-over-trodden: a goblin who hates faeries, Tivuroc, a gloom stalker ranger...
Tivuroc was raised by a human hermit deep in a wetland the hermit called Gladesmurk after he was abandoned there by some goblin clan he has never been able to name. This isolated place would have been a misery for most to exist in, but Tivuroc never came to know any other home. The hermit, who never revealed his name and was called Old Man by the young goblin, taught his foster child how to eke out a living in those dismal conditions. Hunting, trapping, orienteering, tracking, foraging, sheltering, all these skills were imparted on Tivuroc from a very young age. Another thing Old Man taught Tivuroc were his ponderings on natural order and the world's harmonies. He talked a great deal about how civilization was bringing the world ever further into imbalance that could in the end spell doom for most if not all living things.
Tivuroc lost his adoptive father abruptly. One day, while foraging for mushrooms in the swamps, they come upon a faerie ring. Old Man was excited, explaining to Tivuroc that this was a place where the feywild was close to our world. In his many tales, Old Man had spoken of the feywild before, and a thrill mixed with anxiousness filled Tivuroc's heart; the fey folk were known to be mercurial in their motivations. Old Man went forth to study the wonder they had stumbled upon, and that was when a swarm of angry sprites materialized and tore the man to shreds in a matter of moments as Tivuroc looked on in utter shock. The fey disappeard as soon as they had appeared, leaving the young goblin agape, searching the bloody heap he once knew as father for the faintest sign of life. None were to be found.
After that day, Tivuroc quit Gladesmurk and took on a life as a vagabond. He lived off the land, travelling without aim. He met new people and saw wondrous places, yet he never felt at home anywhere ever again. He killed any fey creature he came upon without a second thought, and in time, he became increasingly good at it... Before long, he had earned the moniker of Faerie-Eater, and now roams the realms in the hopeless quest of ridding our world of any fey influence.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" -Death
It started befor her birth, her parents wronged the wrong being, so they cursed the parents unborn child to have infernal blood.
After Zamean was born, her parents where disgusted by their offspring. They reluctantly raised her for a while, not being baby killers. They tried their hardest to keep her a secret, having her locked away in the house, no freinds, basic clothing and food. Until she, acording to them, was old enough to fend for herself.
She was kicked from her only home in her early teens, alone. Until she was found in an allie by a few nice folk, they took her in. They where from a reliable group, worshiping some powerful being, being so younge, and without education she did not understand it. She was just happy she found nice people.
Wile with the group, they schooled her, taught her a little magic, and she felt at home.
Then it was her 21st birthday, suposed to be a coming of age in the religion they preached, when she entered into the cerimony room late that night for the cerimony, she was horrified. Culdrons of flesh, bone, and blood. Demonic symbols, and a child bound and gaged on the alter.
A disgusting truth had reared its ugly head, this was no holy religious group, this was a cult. And her coming of age cerimony was to sacrifice the inocence of this childs blood and intertwine it with infernal blood to corrupt them.
Zamean, having flash backs of the horrid child hood she had, and now conecting the dots of shady behavior in this group, was furious.
She walked up to the child, cut their bindings, and used her stronges fire magic to burn as many cultists, and this building down. Freimg the child and returning them to their home.
As she left town, with what little she could scrounge for supplies, she mutters..."I hate cults..."
Here's a rather sad, morbid but cute and comical backstory I made for a 10 year old high half-elf necromanc
Jade has not been around as long as her fellow adventurers, but she has accrued much medical and financial knowledge from her royal surgeon father and pediatrician mother within her time. Her father told her how medicine was the battle against death. But Jade had yet to fully comprehend the concept of death and took this quite literally.
At 7, she was playing in the backyard, waiting to be called back inside, like usual- but it had seemed that she was being allowed to play for longer. As the sunset and it was too dark to play, she entered her house to find both of her parents laying on the floor, unmoving. She remembered what her mother used to do when people needed a check-up. Jade sat them up, tapped their knees with a little mallet, touched their inner elbows and said "Ssshhh.", stuck a stick in their mouths but alas, no response. She somberly diagnosed both her parents with "Death disease" but did not cry. Her father brought back the dead all the time, and she would do the same for them. She stuffed their bodies in a chest so she could bury it in the morning. Keeping their hands in thick glass jars full of liquid meant for preserving body parts, wearing them at all times.
When she was done, she went into the kitchen and found a note on the kitchen table. She was far, far too sad to read, of course, so she made a paper airplane instead to make herself feel better. It did. Now, she had to figure out why her parents died, so she investigated their personal library, looking for the word "Death" until she found a book that covered a person named "Myrkul" the apparent "God of death" Using her flawless logic to realize that if you die you stop doing stuff, and saw that her destiny was to kill the god of death, bring her parents back and end the process of dying all together. And so, she spent 3 years using her parents library to gather information and spells to prevent dying and kill death.
Name: Lorin de Marle Race: Human Peasant. Age: Early 40s
Backstory: You are a lowly peasant from a poor province, work your day on the field, oppressed by Noble and kicked around by the so-called knight, once time, you get beaten near death for touching a Lord horse, it is a good horse. But the Lady smiled upon you, or so you think. You get the chance to marry Jenny, the barmaid from the local tavern next month. She was not pretty nor charming but she will be your, the greatest good you are ever gonna get. Then some Noble Lord gave you a pointy stick, conscripted you to his army and marched off to repel the raiding party the very next day. You are scared, you are afraid, you don't want to leave Jenny behind, you have heard the story about the Men of the North and the cursed beast they brought with them, but what choice do you have ?? For days you march, the thought of Jenny warms you in the night, from the ever cold wind blowing from the North, you will return, you must return and you shall return. The time has come, your army is joined by various forces across the land, from zealot pilgrim to fame knight. The legendary Knights are among them, in his battered armor, the largest man you have ever seen, veteran of a hundred campaigns, survivor of a thousand battles. You can feel the aura radiating from him, you can't help but wonder what kind of war requires such a Warrior.
Here you are, standing at the front line, this is no longer just a simple raiding party but a full invasion of the Tribe from the North, thousands of them, battle drum, war cry shaking the heart of bravest men, the earth shaking with every step of the monstrous beast accompanying them. The cheering of a thousand men as the Hippogryph Knights begin their charge, carry with them the flame that lights the hope of men. Knights are charging and arrows darken the sky. Now it's up to you and all the men next to you. To hold the line, to hold the bulk of the incoming horde, to die here so that others may live. You could see them clearly now, the men of the North, the reason you are here. You hold tight to your spear and close your eyes, the blasphemy war cry, the sound of a hundred horse galloping, the sound of battle,... the world seems to stop moving. You think of Jenny, you can hear her voice reach out to you, you re-visit the fateful night she spent with you, your mother's voice calling you for dinner.......
A man with few words, no one really know where he come from. Lorin doesn't talk much nor did he really care about other story. He know his place in a shieldwall and is a capable fighter on his own. It is a common joke that Lorin is actually a disgraced noble hiding his shame from the world, the true is he was just a simple conscript who survived for too long and see too much to be ever normal again. The grind of the world got him to where he is today, a man need coins to survive, and so he become a sellsword.
The man in his later year: (some random picture I found that seem to fit my Character)
I've read some really interesting backstories. Some of ya'll are so creative. I'll share the character I've played the longest.
Name: Nikita
Race: Tiefling
Class: Sorcerer
Nikita was born to two loving parents. Her father Joe is a cobbler who has his own little shop. Her mother Ivy is a well respected seamstress who works for the town's richest ladies. The two made enough money to keep Kitty well fed, well clothed, and without many troubles. She went to school and had a bunch of friends. There is an area outside of town that the children were forbidden to be near for this area spawned scary dangerous things. Kitty was 12 when she and her friends decided to play in this forbidden spot. She ended up falling through a rift and into the Shadowfell.
Her first few days in the Shadowfell are nothing but horror, hunger, thirst, and just a sense of doom. Kitty soon found help, but the thing that helped her wanted something in return. She was barely able to escape with her life. The reason she was able to escape is because of magic, she'd taped into something within herself that unleashed on the creature. This connection to magic didn't go away and soon became something she relied on to survive. Kitty learned quickly some creatures are just mindless hunger, while others can be reasoned with. Both are super dangerous. Kitty learned that everything came with a price and many things will come to collect and collect more if you let them get away with it. The colorless landscape wasn't easy, but she did find ways to survive. Kitty lied, cheated, and stole to keep herself alive. Being alive in a place of death and undeath puts one in a very strange and uncomfortable position. She became the plaything of a lich for awhile and that horror still haunts her. Kitty gave the lich someone more interesting to play with and ran away while it was distracted. She found a few powerful things to hide behind briefly in case the lich was looking for her. There was no sign it was so she went on her own again. One day Kitty found a rift and just jumped through it.
Kitty found herself back on the prime material plane. The strange young woman found her rich dark green hair had turned almost white, her skin is always cool, and she breathes once every 30 minutes when sleeping. Also she soon found out that only 13 years had passed while she felt like she'd spent over 150 years in the Shadowfell. She just thought she got lucky and didn't age, but her age matches up to how much time passed in the prime material plane. If that was confusing enough the shadows still answer her call and reach for her. The more upset she gets the more the shadows try to help in some way.
The person that found Kitty wondering around took her to a main city where she answered questions. Kitty found herself in the country of her birth, just on the other side of it. Those in charge put her in a group home while they found her parents. Her parents were still alive and so happy to finally know what happened to her. Kitty was sent home with a group of soldiers who found her very weird and kind of scary. Once in her village Joe and Ivy were so happy to have her back. They just wanted to start life where it had left off, but soon found that it couldn't. Kitty kept weird hours and had developed some strange habits. Loud noises would set her off. Kitty was drawn to color and music and laughter even when she was supposed to be doing something else. She also had a hard time understanding the normal passage of time. It soon became known that no one should ever sneak up on her or she'd attack them. Kitty harmed a local teenager who thought it would be funny to sneak up on her. The teenager was the son of a powerful man in town.
Those in the village slowly learned what had happened to Kitty. Some believed she was just a liar, that she'd run to a big city and finally come back. Others believed that she hadn't been in the Shadowfell, but something had happened to her. Then there were those that believed her and believed that she was cursed. When she attacked the teenager it was decided that she was a danger to the whole community. Her father's shop had its windows broken and her mother's clients dropped her. Seeing that she was the cause of it Kitty decided to leave town.
Ivy and Joe begged Kitty not to go, but she knew she had to. She hoped that by leaving her parents would be welcomed in the town again and go about their lives. Kitty set out to try to find answers about what happened to her and also if there are others like her.
Joro Hillside
Stout Halfling, Monk 1
Gender: Male
Hair: Brown
Skin: Fair
Eyes: Brown
Height: 3'
Weight: 40 lbs.
Gender: Male
You were born in a simple community of farmers, the middle of 5 children. Though a bit short for your age even as a Halfling, life was pretty normal... with one glaring exception.
The exception is that the community often called you a troublemaker. It's not that you don't care for your family, friends, and neighbors - you still love them dearly. It that you always felt bored in your home village, an oddity among them - an unwelcome oddity at first. The family business of masonry gave you an outlet for aggression, but you feel most worthy when accomplishing some feat that others cannot - a trait that did not initially gain much appreciation at home, especially since you take to brawling when other competitive activities aren't regularly available. You are a rather decent scrapper in your community even though that's not really saying much.
As quite the town embarrassment but nothing remotely worthy of banishment, you were kept away from outsiders such as travelers and tradesfolk, and initially, that was fine with you. Your understanding of outsiders was stereotypical and xenophobic along with the rest of the community.
This changed when a group of travelers staying at the big-folk inn had one bad drunk among them. The only way such news could travel through your home community any faster would be through direct telepathy. Once the near-magically efficient gossip machine reached you, you went directly to the inn to find a giant Human drunkenly accosting everyone with a ill-kept sword. Your quick feet, small size, and persistence earned many knocks on the head and a few scrapes but also an eventual though slim victory against the disadvantaged, clumsy Human whose companions did nothing to assist.
Since that moment, the community considers you a welcome "necessary evil" rather than a nuisance, but the experience gave you a different idea. Your low opinions of outsiders did not changed in that moment, but you became convinced that the opportunity for excitement is not found in your home community. Despite believing that you would find everything missing in your life out in the world of big folk, leaving was still a very difficult thing to do. You still think about all of them and wonder how things are going.
You are now on your own in the big-folk world, but nothing is as cut-and-dry as you had thought. Commerce is a difficult concept for you. At home, you provided things people needed and people provided your needs in return. Working for coin (masonry) and having to use that coin to bargain for what you need seems rather unfeeling and a bit dubious. The ales do not flow nearly as freely as it does back home. Big folk are rarely the horrible louts like the one you encountered before setting out on your own, but you are always ready for any big folk with any fighting skill to turn into an opportunity for breaking the boredom of mundane life - something that has happened only twice in the few years you were away from home; one easy win, one waking up being cured (healed) at a nunnery. You never speak truly of either event as they are nothing truly worth speaking. You spun so many tales that you're not sure what really happened anymore.
You recently got wind of something called "adventuring" - something you thought you were already doing - and you feel that this "adventuring" is what you're seeking for both the necessity of coin and necessity of excitement. The rumor mill in the world of big folk doesn't work the same as back home, but you are still keeping your ears open for an "adventuring" opportunity.
NOTE: You do not identify as a Monk of any monastic tradition. You identify as a wayward mason seeking fortune through adventure with a penchant for wily fisticuffs. You will use the Monk mechanics to handle fighting.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Faith: Brandobaris
Lifestyle: Poor
Age: 45
Background: Folk Hero
Personality Traits: Thinking is for other people. You prefer action. You get bored easily. When are you going to get on with your destiny?
Ideal: Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer you away from your higher calling.
Bond: You protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Flaw: You have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink.
Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider.
My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong.
I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲
“It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
Hi everyone, this is my first ever character that I have created and I would love any and all feedback, no matter how harsh. I am new to D&D and hope that I haven't gone overboard with anything. I have loved reading everyone else's posts and these have really helped me complete my own backstory, so thanks to everyone who has posted here.
Name: Noz
Race: Burrowing Kobold
Age: 6
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Folk Hero
Character Traits: "I idolize a particular hero of my faith and constantly refer to that person's deeds and example, as a result, nothing can shake my optimistic attitude."
Ideals: "Aspiration: I seek to prove myself worthy to my people and myself, so that I can help others and be remembered alongside other great heroes and to uphold my promise."
Bonds: "There are great evils in the land that must be destroyed to save lives. I must find them together with my brother. "
Flaws : "Living a sheltered life, I am very gullible and will often see good in people where there is none. "
Backstory: In Noz's tribe, all Kobold hatched during the festival of Kahlu, a legendary warrior from the tribe, who slew a great evil of the land and became a dragon, are raised in her visage. Noz and his fellow hatchmates were separated from most Kobold of the tribe and following years of training and teaching, were expected to venture from their tribe's village to protect its people and the land, just as it is believed Kahlu did.
Throughout Noz's childhood, he was surrounded by his hatchmates, but the one he grew closest to was Rak, a taller Kobold with fiery red eyes. They became inseparable over the course of their training. They became brothers. No matter how arduous the training, no matter long the sessions seemed, they would always brighten each others day, with a smile and a joke. On the eve of their 5th festival of Kahlu, they promised each other that they would travel the world and find this great evil, together.
Following this promise, Noz grew more obsessed over his belief in Kahlu, more so than any of his hatchmates. He learned, trained and fought with a resolve that bordered on fanatical - he had to be like Kahlu, he had to help his village, he HAD to find a great evil like Kahlu once did, anything less would prove that he wasn't worthy of the destiny given to him and that he couldn't be there for his brother when he needed him.
On the 6th festival of Kahlu, Noz and his hatchmates were presented to the village and were met with cheers and adoration. Now, each would be assigned a partner, and they would duel for the right to leave the village. The victors would be named champion, the losers would be branded a failure and would be forbidden to leave the village.
Noz watched as his friends fought one another to the joy of the crowds, as the duels of Kahlu were the pinnacle of the festival. As champions were crowned and the cheers grew louder, Noz stepped into the arena with bated breath and saw his assigned opponent. A fighter, who could easily best the other hatchmates. A friend, who Noz promised to stand beside. A brother, who he loved like no other.
Crowds around the pit grew as the final duel of the festival began, but as each blow between Noz and Rak were parried and dodged, tears streamed from both their faces and only silence filled the arena. Blow after blow, their sword arms grew heavy until Rak stepped back and dropped his blade. "I surrender."
As a final cheer surged through the crowd, Rak slowly walked to Noz and after looking into his eyes for what seemed like eternity, he fell into Noz and began sobbing. Before Noz was carried away by the village elders as champion, Rak told Noz that he was going to keep his promise. One day, he would leave the village, no matter the cost and find Noz, so that they could fulfill their promise.
After leaving the village, equipped with the finest tools and armour they could give him, Noz found himself in a verdant forest, with sounds and smells all new to him. Remembering the many tales of Kahlu, Noz started his adventure with courage and hope, he would live as Kahlu - a good and just warrior, searching for the lands greatest evil. Noz reached into his backpack and picked out a crudely carved Kobold with red paste covering its eyes. He will find his brother, and they would be spoken about like legends, together.
Thanks for reading, and sorry if this isn't that great - I would love to hear anything you have to say!
Elandrir
Race: Kobold
Age: 7/1000000000000000000000
Class: Wizard
Elandrir was once the might and powerful god of evocation, but someone cursed him to be striped from most of his magical knowledge and reborn as a cute kobold.
He’s is VERY annoyed. Now he is shearling for a way to become a god again.
I call this kind of trope, "a DM's playground." Almost zero established backstory. The DM can make up anything for character hooks.
Vague
Tiefling Ranger 1
Gender: Male
Hair: Black
Skin: Fair
Eyes: Solid white
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 180 lbs.
You have flat, scaly horns that start from above your brow toward the back of your scalp, ending in a small up-curl on each when they reach the back your skull. Your tail is the same fair color of your skin and smooth except for a spade at the tip.
Summary: Amnesiac found dying in a formerly insular Human commune, New Crommerth, in the Bluuwoods outside the city, Dalesdell, and now the only non-Human and a fond member of the welcoming commune.
Details: The priests who were becoming disquiet with the growing xenophobic atmosphere of their congregation took your unsettling arrival as a test for the commune. With the help of the Mothers and Fathers of the kirk of Brigantia who cured you, you were slowly introduced into the commune and became one of their own. There were some rather major bumps along the way to acceptance, but the teachings of the kirk and (ironically) an old, crotchety woodsman named Borond, won over the small populace with the value of your character.
More details: From books from the city, the priest's research into curing you and trying to discover your identity revealed nothing about who you might be, that Tieflings and Fiends are only peripherally linked, that you can speak and read Common and Elvish, that you can read but not currently speak Infernal and Abyssal, and that a common Tiefling tradition is to take a name of an aspect or quality. For a name, you chose a word with origins in old pre-Common meaning "to wander" (vagus) with the modern meaning of "uncertain".
The Mothers and Fathers took the inability to speak Infernal and Abyssal as a good sign that you were severed from any fiendish influences from your life. You don't know what to make of the fact that you know Elvish.
The town has, since, become more welcoming of outsiders from their experiences with you, and the commune is gaining a reputation of a friendly place, but you are still wary of outsiders. Someone in the world left you to die, after all. So when in situations that could bring you in contact with outsiders, you take to wearing a hood to hide your horns and wearing loose trousers to hide your tail wrapped around your right leg. You sometimes pretend to be blind with acute senses when you personally encounter outsiders when on your own.
You live in the kirk as you have since you awoke, and you're one of the commune's evening hunters in the Bluuwoods as trained by Borond. During the harsh seasons when travellers are scarce, you can be found in the tavern in the mornings, hooded, playing the viol with whomever might be around that morning. Your viol stays in the kirk otherwise. (A viol is similar to a viola but played upright like a cello and not under the chin.)
Life was simple, peaceful, and even fun... until one day, a DM got involved. :P
Alignment: Neutral Good
Faith: New Crommerth Kirk of Brigantia and follower of Hestia (same as Borond)
Lifestyle: Poor
Age: ~30?
Languages: Common, Infernal (read only), Abyssal (read only), Elvish
Favored Enemy: Beasts
Favored Terrain: Forests
Background: Outlander
Tool proficiency: Viol
Origin: Hunter-gatherer/Unknown
Personality Traits: You watch over your friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups. You feel far more comfortable around animals than people.
Ideal: Greater good. It is each person's responsibility to make the most happiness for the whole commune.
Bond: Your commune is the most important thing in your life, even when they are far from you.
Flaw: You are slow to trust members of other non-Human races, other communities, and other societies.
EDIT: My grammar neuroses finally won.
Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider.
My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong.
I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲
“It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
Forget a character backstory.... Iv'e made a backstory for an entire organization! It is related to my character, as she is part of this organization. Let us begin...
Many, many, MANY, years ago, there was a man known as Elcius Entraire, known as the Golden Sage. He was known for his wisdom and generosity. One day, while exploring some mountains, he came across a mysterious golden crystal. Upon investigating it, he discovered it was a externally powerful source of arcane energy. Elcius was amazed at the power, but immediately realized that this sort of power would be dangerous in the crystal fell in the wrong hands. After he returned home, he worked to create a band of adventurers determined to protect the crystal at ll cost. And so, the Entraire Society, was born.
Elcius wanted to keep the crystals existence a secret to reduce the possibility of attempts to steal it. But despite his efforts, a powerful lich under the name of Grendel eventually heard about this powerful relic, and the temptation was way too much. Grendel attacked the headquarters of the Society and successfully made of with the crystal, now known as the Golden Crystal of Entraire. Using the crystals power to make him the king of the liches, Grendel then planned to use the power of the crystal to make the whole world undead. With Elcius's worst fears coming true, he quickly lead a party after the villain, and quickly arrived at Grendel's palace: Mortum Maladium. One epic battle later, the band had managed to retrieve the crystal from Grendel, but Elcius was badly wounded. Old about about to die, Elcius used that last of his power to seal Grendel and his palace in a pocket dimension, which destroyed the old mans body in the process. As if out of pity, the Golden crystal did something amazing: It allowed the spirit of Elcius to enter it, thus creating a bond between the crystal and the Entraire Society. Elcius's son, Rupert, returned the crystal to it's rightful place and set on making the Society better than ever.
That was the History of the Entraire Society. Now, during present times, the Society is managed by a select group of individuals known as the Council of Entraire. My character is a member of this Council, and actually one of the most well known: Hermione Entraire.
She is the daughter of a powerful sorcerer, living peacefully near the city of Elcius. Her mansion, The Safe Haven, is located beyond the neighboring swamp, and is where she keeps all of the treasure she collected, as well as her adventuring gear. She longs for adventure, often joining adventuring parties just for the fun of it. This has made her extremely rich, which is shown in her signature red dress, which is tear proof, stain proof, and cant be tarnished in any way. She almost never takes it off. She has spent countless hours of training and study in order to be able to cast her vast array of spells. She is always looking for new spells to learn. Also, she has natural psychic powers that she had since birth. Her main fighting style is hit hit hard with spells, control and confuse, or to toy with the target. Her eyes glow bright white when channeling her most powerful magic. Her hobbies include reading, singing, and dancing. But her oddest hobby is simulating distress, binding herself with rope or other objects in her free time. Fortunately, she can tell the difference between playtime and real danger. She is a direct line family member of the Entraires, so she naturally joined the Entraire Society. Like the other members, she vows to protect the Golden Crystal of Entraire, a family relic with insane power. Her sheer mastery over the arcane makes her a well valued member of the Society. In fact, she is the youngest member of the Council of Entraire, and one of the most well known. However, she is often stranded in an unfamiliar world with the crystal, usually because of a natural rupture of space-time. She is not afraid to use the crystal in combat if necessary when this happens. And if she somehow loses it, she won't return to her home world until she gets it back. Her arsenal of spells and her red outfit has given her the nickname "The Scarlet Spellcaster"
Yeah that's her all right. Well I hope you enjoyed, And I am sorry If this felt like a lot of words.
Grigore Ottgop: Gnome Illusionist
Many dark corners remain in this world. Untamed jungles and black pits where monsters lurk. There are shadowed valleys where evil walks without fear.
Grigore Ottgop is from one such place, the small village of Vernwood nestled between the northernmost Pinelands and Snow Mountains. Vernwood’s soil is cold and the Ottgop family’s stove was frequently empty. Wolves howled through long winter nights. People vanished.
Born to undistinguished serfs, Grigore might have expected only a short life of sorrow and toil. Some twist of the stars changed his fate, however. The happy, brown-haired gnomling had a gift for the arcane. Just aged four, Grigore amazed his parents with illusory parrots and doves. At eight, he transformed gruel to flavorful stew. And at age thirteen, Grigore was the wonder of the town.
His abilities caught the eye of a lord in those parts, the fearsome devil Zmeu. The devil plucked Grigore from his home and took him into his service at Ogrefell Castle. In time, Grigore was enrolled at the Scholomance - the infamous academy of dark rites hidden beneath Lake Hermannstadt.
For seven years, Grigore studied in those dank depths without seeing the light of day. The instruction was difficult and exams sometimes fatal, but Grigore persevered. He learned much, eventually excelling in illusory magics. Grigore wove fantasies which deluded the mind and deceived the senses.
The Scholomance has many graduation ceremonies. Most are evil and many unspeakable. One, however, is legend. The drawing of Tarot. Three cards which bind a student’s fate.
Grigore drew these three,
The Magician
This card is almost given for a student of the Scholomance. Incantations tattoo their ears, magics bids their fingers, and secret glyphs crawl behind their eyes. For all his days, arcana would be Grigore’s greatest tool and mightiest weapon.
The Devil
An unlucky card, but perhaps unsurprising for a servant of Zmeu. Grigore’s life would not be his own, but served in bondage to a greater force. The Devil’s demands are great and his punishments harsh, but this fate is not ruinous. Even servants might grow fat on kitchen scraps and snicker behind closed doors.
The Fool
This card is disaster, the most unhappy draw. The Fool is the archetype of mortals’ suffering. It is blighted vanity, delirious apathy, and meaningless struggle. Grigore must journey endlessly towards an unknown destination. Every ploy must ultimately fail him. His every victory must eventually turn to ash.
This dire reading sealed Grigore’s fate. Zmeu was most displeased.
Hoping Grigore might carry his bad luck away with him, Zmeu dispatched Grigore south. He was to tend his master’s business, gather secrets for the Scholomance’s masters, and most importantly, keep his unfortunate fate to himself.
Since then, Grigore has travelled far from Ogrefell Castle. Hearing rumors of a lost mine and dark doings, he has come to the abandoned village of Thundelin. Grigore struck a bargain with the young green dragon there, agreeing to serve the beast for a year and a day in exchange for information. Grigore never intended to keep this deal, but his plot went sideways when he was discovered attempting to escape in the night.
Now Grigore sits in a cage and amuses himself with naught but illusions.
Here's a backstory I've been crafting for my first character, he's a wizard and a half elf and I think I did a good enough job with it.
Tyrian was born from a human and half elf couple of powerful wizards and is the only son to Margra Hilderon and Tyrus Thotharius.
Well after listening to a Entrepreneur book for the past copable of weeks, I came up with Quartz the goblin merchant.
There was fire in the goblin worn. To young Quartz he didn't understand why they were screaming and running or why his mother put him in a wicker basket. "mommy! what is going on?"
"Quite!" She ran to the back of the worn where the tribe's stream was and put the basket into it.
"Mommmy!" that was the last time Quartz saw her as an adventurer struck her down. The stream carried Quartz to the surface river. Until lady Odilia fished the basket of the river. Odilia was compassionate woman who took the young Goblin in. At first it was like trying to tame a wild dog, confused and scared Quartz fought her tooth and nail especially around bath time. Odilia gave Quartz the best education she could. She taught him to play the lute, to read and the value of coin but above all the art of the haggle. Odilia loved market day of their small village to her it was the opportunity to meet with friends, what Quartz love most was the days when exotic goods merchants came into town. With their strange animals, pungent spices, metal works of all description and works of all kinds of arts.
The most important of these merchants was the one that called him over and asked him. "Well my young Goblin friend, each time i make this run you are here with your questions and always try to sell me some of your glass works. But I have something speacel for you today." gesturing to the tarp covered cage. " This here is an example of a rare and exotic creature. That I was contracted by the great king Snow Beard of the dwarves to acquire for him. So, my young friend can you tell me where the creature came from." He pulled the tarp off.
Clapping his hands in delight at the joke Quartz said. "No, that's not an exotic creature! That's Miss lassies' old tom cat Buster." Chuckling the merchant released the angered feline. That night the merchant came to lady Odilia's house and offered for Quartz to become his ward and apprentice to the merchants guild. Troubled Odilia asked to sleep on it. Quartz couldn't sleep thinking how great his life would be as a merchant. So, he snuck onto the cottages roof to look at the stars.
"Can't sleep?"
"yes maim"
"I thought about DeCards offer and I think it would be good for you. I taught you as much as I can here, its time for you to see more of the world just don't forget old Odilia." Hugging her Quartz swore on all the goblin gods, all of whom who didn't count Quartz as a fallower, that he will come and visit as much as possible. He visited her a copable dozen times as his travels took him back to the village. His last visit was after finishing his apprentice ship. That time the small town was razed to the ground by a band of bandits. Running to the nearest town he found the refugees of the town but no Odilia. Putting the refugees to the question they told him of the story of how bandits came into town a month ago boosting of plundering a tomb. A few days of down time had the bandits itching for some entertainment and decided to torment the villagers. What stroke fear in Quartz's heart was the description of the bandits symbol dredged up his worst nightmares of the worn the adventurer who slaughtered his people. After twenty years he had his first lead and connections to fallow that lead, but he also had the mystery of Odilia solve as well. Only time will tell if he finds the answers.
Outside the Lines Fantasy – A collection of self published fiction stories.
Druid and Barbarian work surprisingly well together. Nothing says loving like wildshaping and raging at the same time.
This is my current character on Realmsmith's Discord: Vontevious Smyth XII
When the third son of the Sheradan Smyths, a rich noble family of masons and jewel crafters, woke up on his fifteenth birthday he found that his half-elf features were replaced with a set of pointed horns, ash grey skin and a set of hooves where his feet used to be. Terrified by his appearance, he frightened his mother and unveiled the family secret. An ancestor of his had cut a deal with a devil for a rich vein that gave the family their fortune. The price: a random child of their family would become a teifling.
Angered and embarrassed by the transformation, he left his family to live on the streets for a few years until he came upon a celestial named Nondriel. He stuck a pact with him to purge himself of his demonic blood with the completion of slaying a great evil. With the power of celestial light granted to him, he intrepidly set off, for Barovia.
Hey, everyone. I wanted to share another backstory and I happened to have a recently drafted version of this one. After posting my last backstory (“Penance” can be found on pg. 43), which was also my first post on the forums, I decided on something more light-hearted and humorous since Penance’s story is on the darker, more traumatic side. Anyway...
This is the story of Gordy Scrapple, the Human Fighter and not-so-masterful chef from the village of Shittyside.
Campaign: Home-brew. Starting level: 5. Background: Folk Hero.
Ambiance Suggestion: "The Entertainer" by Scott Joplin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JeGQtdeJDQ
The kingdom of Sunnyside is nestled within a serene and fertile valley... but Gordy Scrapple lived across the woods from the kingdom, in the swampy village of Shittyside. He owned a bistro there where he was also the head chef. He named his business "The Gift of Grub.”
Gordy loved to cook for his customers but mostly made his living working for the brute squad, fighting off bandits and beasts attacking the village from the woods. After a hard-fought afternoon of brute-squading one day in the midst of one of Shittyside's frequent famines, Gordy decided to use meat from his pile of monster carcasses to thicken up a stew. The result was astounding. The stew was phenomenally delicious and Gordy had to serve it at his bistro. But first, he brought his dish to every head chef in the village to spread the recipe around and announce that the famine was over!
The meat was a huge hit with the other restauranteurs and word about the scrumptious new discovery spread fast. Villagers from all over Shittyside were enjoying Gordy's recipe. The meat had nearly all been used up when the first people started getting sick. The locals called it the Brown Wave. Quite a shame considering the catastrophic damage to the recently installed plumbing (a milestone significant enough for the village to establish a holiday to honor it.)
Ten days after the plumbing was shut off, Shittyside was paid a visit by the Earl of Sunnyside, Sir Benedict Hollandaise. The Earl was intrigued by rumors of this legendary meat stew on the other side of the woods. So it came down to Gordy. All the other chefs were too sick to boil water let alone prepare a hot meal for a lord. Eating the monster meat had also affected Gordy but it was nothing 20 strenuous minutes in the community crapper couldn't fix.
Cooking said meat for the Earl was out of the question. Luckily by now all the monster meat had either been eaten or thrown out. Gordy had to prepare a stellar-tasting stew and make Lord Hollandaise believe he was eating an exotic beast. He put all of his efforts into attempting to fool the Earl, including disguising his ugliest hog as one of the monsters yet despite it all, Lord Hollandaise reportedly fell ill and died after returning to Sunnyside Castle. Now he'd really shit the bed. Despite how carefully he'd prepared the dish, Gordy Scrapple had unintentionally committed regicide. Although he thought he was certain of the ingredients, some monster meat must have found its way into the pot yet he could not fathom how.
But the kingdom had decided his guilt and condemned poor Gordy. He considered leaving his home but he was surprised to receive a hero's treatment from the village for his "courageous act." The Earl was dead and that meant that the woefully unlawful tariffs imposed on food and supply transports through the woods would finally dissolve. The famine was truly over thanks to Gordy! He was forgiven for unleashing the Brown Wave and even had his bravery honored with a brand new holiday in his name however, in the law's eyes he was a criminal of the highest order so begrudgingly, he purchased a wagon and left his village behind. However, the legend of Gordy Scrapple spread as he traveled from village to village, taking his beloved culinary craft on the road with his new traveling business, "The To-&-Fro Bistro." Gordy is a hero of the commoner and a wanted man in search of good folks, good grub, and a good fight once in a while.
Rough draft for a human Evocation Wizard I just finished up.
Liana Monate was born and raised near New Olamn in Waterdeep. She was a moderately privileged youth, often spoiled by her godfather, and future mentor, Justod Bitral. Liana was sponsored by her mentor in 1489 for admittance for apprenticeship in the Blackstaff Academy. She excelled in her studies, especially as it pertained to evocation. Justod had even taught her his signature way to cast Firebolt that would burn flesh but leave inanimate objects like clothing unharmed. The years at the academy passed quickly but as Liana spent more time with her mentor, the more she knew something was off. She often found him leering at her and one night she had to rebuff his advances. Nothing would be the same after that. Justod would often be rude and snide. He would give her extra work, and eventually she suspected him of sabotaging her work. She knew that she could not expose him as it would be her word against a respected instructor. But, she knew something had to change. One afternoon while Justod was giving a lecture, Liana broke into his study and searched his belongings. She found a salacious love letter from the Bala Girdow, spouse of a fellow instructor at the Academy. She knew that if she could obtain the letters Justod wrote to his paramour, that she would have something she could use against Justod to get him to back off and leave her alone.
Liana made a plan to sneak into the dwelling of Justod's illicit lover during a scheduled celebration. On the night of the event, Liana watched as Bala left with her husband Colv for the celebration. Liana made her move. She slipped in through a window with a pilfered knock scroll and proceeded to search the belongings of Bala. Eventually, she found success. Stuffed in her stocking drawer where two letters with enough raunchy details to give her plenty of protection. As she was making her way to the open window, Bala came back home. she had left her clutch and returned home to get it, catching Liana in the act. Seeing what Liana had in her hands, Bala flew into a rage and physically attacked Liana. They struggled and the larger Bala was clearly winning. Bala had no intent to let Liana leave the room alive, with letters in hand or not. Her husband was a cruel and vindictive man and she feared what he would do to her. As Liana was slowly having the life choked from her body, she seized up one final act to save herself, the signature Firebolt. Liana let go with her left hand and traced the symbols required while she choked out the command word for the spell and she shoved a mote of fire right into the face of Bala.
Bala stiffened as if struck by lightning and and fell dead to the floor. As Liana lay on the floor attempting to regain her breath, she looked up only to see Bala's husband Colv standing stupified at the scene of death in his home. It was then that he noticed the discarded letters near the body of his wife and he immediately recognized the familiar broken wax signet of Justod on the letters. As Liana lay on the floor afraid to move or make a sound in the presence of the husband of the woman she had just killed, Colv read the letters with a stoic expression. As he finished the letters, he slowly looked up at Liana and paused while he appeared to consider his next action. Liana had yet to move, to barely breathe. Colv slowly said, "Leave... Leave the city. Do not return, on penalty of death. You have until sundown tomorrow to be gone." Liana did not know what to make of this generosity. Colv could have killed her where she lay. he could have turned her into the authorities, but he was letting her go, and she was not going to waste this second chance. She quickly ran home and gathered her things with the intent to leave first thing in the morning. She would send her parents a letter explaining her departure when she arrived in the next town.
On her way out of town the next morning, the streets were buzzing with some major news. She inquired with a local crier as the news, fearing it was about her crimes. She was told that Justod had been arrested for the murder of the wife of one of his arch rivals - that he had apparently killed her with one of his signature spells. It was then that Liana realized what had happened. Colv had used this opportunity to take out one of his rivals while also keeping the affair secret. Liana had been used - and she was OK with it.
Rather long backstory of my Water Genassi Monk sailor/pirate - K'rill Windward. Haven't played him yet, but he's a backup for a homebrewed "Ancient Greek" themed campaign (before Theros was a thing yet.)
K'rill has spent most of his life within a mile of the water. Much of it actually IN the water. He was born on a boat, he lived with his family in a series of small residences by one of the wharves in Waterdeep, and honestly never saw much reason to stray from the water. As a kid, the farthest he had to go was to school, which he hated. Mostly, because it was too far away from the water for him to be able to smell the ocean air, or hear all but the most violent of the crashing waves. And, because the other kids teased him - because he was small, because he was green, because he often looked wet. The mean ones started calling him "krill" because he was small and thin. When he was older, he appreciated the value of the krill... the largest beasts in the oceans survived almost exclusively on them! He took that name almost as a badge of courage, and… since he was fairly easygoing - able to ride easily on the breezes, he adopted "Windward" as his surname, whenever that was actually required.
K’rill Windward obviously worked on his father Piscene’s fishing boat, the “Djinni Haniver.” He was eager to learn everything about fishing, sailing, mending nets, setting traps, and the more esoteric skills: reading the water, watching the seabirds, keeping a weather eye on the horizon. It was his mother, Mael, (who was also a Genassi) who took him to a local man for training, so that he could better protect himself. This old man, Norio, spent time with him after K’rill completed his chores, and though a series of tasks and exercises, built his strength, reflexes, and awareness. He repaired more nets, braided ropes, scrubbed barnacles from ship’s hulls, and countless other menial tasks. But, despite himself, he was getting wiry and resilient. Then, once his body and mind were ready, Norio taught him how to defend himself and fight – but only if all else failed.
Trying to build a name for himself, as a teen he started crewing on other ships. He wanted to stand on his own, and not just be “Pi’s kid.” He worked on many fishing boats, bringing home any earned money that he didn’t spend at a tavern first. Then, he started serving on merchant ships, traveling up and down the coast, delivering cargo. But, after losing money gambling, and other misfortunes, he started doing risky things to earn more silver and the rare gold, and got himself into a bad crowd. One friend, Owyn, whom he met while crewing on the merchant ship “Fire Woman” suggested he go with him to another ship. This one was bad news, but the sailors – pirates, really, - would come back to port with more than enough gold to throw around. So, the night before he was supposed to set sail on the ramshackle galleon “Tits of Glory,” he got truly drunk, and got in a dispute, that turned into a fight, that turned into a massive bar brawl. And he broke the constable’s son’s forearm and cracked his jaw.
He spent a couple of days in prison, and the ship left without him. It was probably for the best, since he never saw Owyn again, and he heard that maybe the “Tits of Glory” sunk in a terrible storm off a reef. But, his luck turned sour again, after catching the eye of the constable’s daughter, Dainica, who came in several times to bring her father some food and messages while K’rill was locked up. But she seemed to linger, and K’rill caught her often trying to hide that she was looking at him. He gave her a smile when he caught her peeking his way. After he was released, the inevitable happened – and constable Drazhan caught them. Well, K’rill at least escaped capture, but had to run and hide while Drazhan sent the whole town watch on his tail, searching every bar, warehouse, flop house, alley and dockside looking for him. As a last resort, with angry men charging after him with torches, nets, and chains - he clambered onto a departing ship, the “Shearwater.”
Which was also a privateer. But, this one was smaller, quicker, and obviously well respected by captain and crew. Captain Kilvar, perhaps admiring K’rill’s gumption, didn’t immediately throw him overboard. Instead he kept him on board, in a “probationary” period. Once he had served enough time on stowaway rations, swabbing the decks, and sleeping in the bilge, K’rill was allowed to join the crew. He was often picked on, but using what he had learned from Norio, he was able to hold his own, and he earned the respect of the seasoned crew. He excelled at managing the rigging, and eventually rose up the ranks, from Powder Monkey, to Master Rigger, then up to Boatswain. He fared well on the “Shearwater” and really enjoyed adventuring on the rough seas. He didn’t enjoy the more vicious aspects of the pirate life, but the plunder, and shipboard camaraderie, made it worthwhile. His weapon of choice, aside from his hands, was a customized Bosun’s hook – he used a common 6 ft rigging hook, but he added a blade to the back side of the hook end, and weighted the handle end so that it was nimble in his hands. It was sort of a short, balanced spear, with a blade on one edge, and a hook on the other. Perfect for mooring lines, or piercing ribcages. He just had to be careful any time they were in Port Nyanzaru, lest constable Drazhan hear of it.
Ziggy - Gnome artificer:
Back in the last Gnome civil war between the Deep gnomes and the Rock gnomes for control of the land rights in Eberron, a small group of neutral Forest gnomes made a tidy living making weapons and instruments for either side that could pay.
Gerbo Turin or Ziggy to his friends was one of those Gnomes, after the war along with his brother Fred they moved to the Barrier Peaks in Greyhawks and set up a business together making musical instruments and clockwork objects, and sometimes infusing them with magic.
Marina - Water Genasi warlock:
Marina is a water Genasi, a lonely soul who lives on a quiet stretch of the river Eastry on the Sea of Fallen Stars. She is content growing herbs and tending to the sea and shore creatures that live in harmony. As a powerful warlock she will sometimes join a quest to asist people who need her skills, it is on this journey that she found herself here.
How generic can you get? I'll tell ya, a human redemption paladin kinda generic, that's where I'm at.
Arkil of House Hightower
Arkil is a younger son of a noble family, the house Hightower, and as such knew from a young age that in order to truly leave his mark on the world, he couldn't rely on his heritage; a privilege of his older siblings. He was trained as any noble son in the use of weapons as well as riding, history and politics of the land. He never took these studies particularly seriously, aware from a young age that his destiny lie beyond that of run-of-the-mill nobility.
He took an interest in the craft of the castle healer, becoming an apprentice of sorts to this elderly woman called Ma'm Gray. His parents did not approve, deeming the healers' craft as a calling for commoners, so Arkil had to sneak off to receive his lessons. Ma'm Gray taught young Arkil of her god, Diancecht the Physician, and of His sacred Well of Healing, the Tipra Slaine, around which a temple had been erected. An order of knights templar dwelt there, lending their skills to all peoples in need, protecting the weak and healing the infirm.
So it was that Arkil on his fourteenth name day quit the castle to seek a place among the Order of the Well, a choice his family was less than pleased with. He was accepted among the Aspirants, and proved a promising prospect during his training. In time, he secured a rank in the Order, now travelling the land to spread word of his god's teachings and to lend aid to those in need.
Another tap into the well of tropes-well-over-trodden: a goblin who hates faeries, Tivuroc, a gloom stalker ranger...
Tivuroc was raised by a human hermit deep in a wetland the hermit called Gladesmurk after he was abandoned there by some goblin clan he has never been able to name. This isolated place would have been a misery for most to exist in, but Tivuroc never came to know any other home. The hermit, who never revealed his name and was called Old Man by the young goblin, taught his foster child how to eke out a living in those dismal conditions. Hunting, trapping, orienteering, tracking, foraging, sheltering, all these skills were imparted on Tivuroc from a very young age. Another thing Old Man taught Tivuroc were his ponderings on natural order and the world's harmonies. He talked a great deal about how civilization was bringing the world ever further into imbalance that could in the end spell doom for most if not all living things.
Tivuroc lost his adoptive father abruptly. One day, while foraging for mushrooms in the swamps, they come upon a faerie ring. Old Man was excited, explaining to Tivuroc that this was a place where the feywild was close to our world. In his many tales, Old Man had spoken of the feywild before, and a thrill mixed with anxiousness filled Tivuroc's heart; the fey folk were known to be mercurial in their motivations. Old Man went forth to study the wonder they had stumbled upon, and that was when a swarm of angry sprites materialized and tore the man to shreds in a matter of moments as Tivuroc looked on in utter shock. The fey disappeard as soon as they had appeared, leaving the young goblin agape, searching the bloody heap he once knew as father for the faintest sign of life. None were to be found.
After that day, Tivuroc quit Gladesmurk and took on a life as a vagabond. He lived off the land, travelling without aim. He met new people and saw wondrous places, yet he never felt at home anywhere ever again. He killed any fey creature he came upon without a second thought, and in time, he became increasingly good at it... Before long, he had earned the moniker of Faerie-Eater, and now roams the realms in the hopeless quest of ridding our world of any fey influence.
"You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" -Death
Zamean, a tifling wizard.
It started befor her birth, her parents wronged the wrong being, so they cursed the parents unborn child to have infernal blood.
After Zamean was born, her parents where disgusted by their offspring. They reluctantly raised her for a while, not being baby killers. They tried their hardest to keep her a secret, having her locked away in the house, no freinds, basic clothing and food. Until she, acording to them, was old enough to fend for herself.
She was kicked from her only home in her early teens, alone. Until she was found in an allie by a few nice folk, they took her in. They where from a reliable group, worshiping some powerful being, being so younge, and without education she did not understand it. She was just happy she found nice people.
Wile with the group, they schooled her, taught her a little magic, and she felt at home.
Then it was her 21st birthday, suposed to be a coming of age in the religion they preached, when she entered into the cerimony room late that night for the cerimony, she was horrified. Culdrons of flesh, bone, and blood. Demonic symbols, and a child bound and gaged on the alter.
A disgusting truth had reared its ugly head, this was no holy religious group, this was a cult. And her coming of age cerimony was to sacrifice the inocence of this childs blood and intertwine it with infernal blood to corrupt them.
Zamean, having flash backs of the horrid child hood she had, and now conecting the dots of shady behavior in this group, was furious.
She walked up to the child, cut their bindings, and used her stronges fire magic to burn as many cultists, and this building down. Freimg the child and returning them to their home.
As she left town, with what little she could scrounge for supplies, she mutters..."I hate cults..."
What do you guys think?
Current game- Pelegos: Singularity
Game world- Thad'thra, homebrew
Role- DM
Players- Maro: Light Cleric, Rivqah: Feind Warlock, Kortek: Artillerist Artificer
Plot: Uncover a conspiracy and truth behind the Dragon, Blasphemy, and the light of the kingdom that was stollen. Drenching Baranara into shadow.
Here's a rather sad, morbid but cute and comical backstory I made for a 10 year old high half-elf necromanc
Jade has not been around as long as her fellow adventurers, but she has accrued much medical and financial knowledge from her royal surgeon father and pediatrician mother within her time. Her father told her how medicine was the battle against death. But Jade had yet to fully comprehend the concept of death and took this quite literally.
At 7, she was playing in the backyard, waiting to be called back inside, like usual- but it had seemed that she was being allowed to play for longer. As the sunset and it was too dark to play, she entered her house to find both of her parents laying on the floor, unmoving. She remembered what her mother used to do when people needed a check-up. Jade sat them up, tapped their knees with a little mallet, touched their inner elbows and said "Ssshhh.", stuck a stick in their mouths but alas, no response. She somberly diagnosed both her parents with "Death disease" but did not cry. Her father brought back the dead all the time, and she would do the same for them. She stuffed their bodies in a chest so she could bury it in the morning. Keeping their hands in thick glass jars full of liquid meant for preserving body parts, wearing them at all times.
When she was done, she went into the kitchen and found a note on the kitchen table. She was far, far too sad to read, of course, so she made a paper airplane instead to make herself feel better. It did. Now, she had to figure out why her parents died, so she investigated their personal library, looking for the word "Death" until she found a book that covered a person named "Myrkul" the apparent "God of death" Using her flawless logic to realize that if you die you stop doing stuff, and saw that her destiny was to kill the god of death, bring her parents back and end the process of dying all together. And so, she spent 3 years using her parents library to gather information and spells to prevent dying and kill death.
Name: Lorin de Marle
Race: Human Peasant.
Age: Early 40s
Backstory:
You are a lowly peasant from a poor province, work your day on the field, oppressed by Noble and kicked around by the so-called knight, once time, you get beaten near death for touching a Lord horse, it is a good horse. But the Lady smiled upon you, or so you think. You get the chance to marry Jenny, the barmaid from the local tavern next month. She was not pretty nor charming but she will be your, the greatest good you are ever gonna get. Then some Noble Lord gave you a pointy stick, conscripted you to his army and marched off to repel the raiding party the very next day. You are scared, you are afraid, you don't want to leave Jenny behind, you have heard the story about the Men of the North and the cursed beast they brought with them, but what choice do you have ?? For days you march, the thought of Jenny warms you in the night, from the ever cold wind blowing from the North, you will return, you must return and you shall return. The time has come, your army is joined by various forces across the land, from zealot pilgrim to fame knight. The legendary Knights are among them, in his battered armor, the largest man you have ever seen, veteran of a hundred campaigns, survivor of a thousand battles. You can feel the aura radiating from him, you can't help but wonder what kind of war requires such a Warrior.
Here you are, standing at the front line, this is no longer just a simple raiding party but a full invasion of the Tribe from the North, thousands of them, battle drum, war cry shaking the heart of bravest men, the earth shaking with every step of the monstrous beast accompanying them. The cheering of a thousand men as the Hippogryph Knights begin their charge, carry with them the flame that lights the hope of men. Knights are charging and arrows darken the sky. Now it's up to you and all the men next to you. To hold the line, to hold the bulk of the incoming horde, to die here so that others may live. You could see them clearly now, the men of the North, the reason you are here. You hold tight to your spear and close your eyes, the blasphemy war cry, the sound of a hundred horse galloping, the sound of battle,... the world seems to stop moving. You think of Jenny, you can hear her voice reach out to you, you re-visit the fateful night she spent with you, your mother's voice calling you for dinner.......
A man with few words, no one really know where he come from. Lorin doesn't talk much nor did he really care about other story. He know his place in a shieldwall and is a capable fighter on his own. It is a common joke that Lorin is actually a disgraced noble hiding his shame from the world, the true is he was just a simple conscript who survived for too long and see too much to be ever normal again. The grind of the world got him to where he is today, a man need coins to survive, and so he become a sellsword.
The man in his later year: (some random picture I found that seem to fit my Character)