Knocked in the Head: At young age, Galen (known by another name back then) was a tomb raider. One day, while running from the animated guardians of a holy site, Galen ran head first into a low hanging tree branch and was knocked unconscious. Upon waking, the first thing Galen saw was a massive armored squirrel holding a spear (actually it was a Ratatosk Warlord sent by a Deva). The squirrel communicated telepathically with Galen and told him that the gods were disappointed with him and his tomb raiding. Being amazed (and bereft of his whits from the head injury) by this huge sentient and telepathic squirrel, Galen promised to change his ways and devote his life to being a follower of this squirrel, if only he would spare his life.
The Warlord, amused by this very odd Aasimar, agreed. Galen asked the squirrel, "Oh holy one, what shall I call you?" To which the Warlord replied, "I am called Amalstephanol." Galen decided that from that day forward, this massive squirrel will forever be known as the "Amazing Steve." Further amused by this, Amalstephanol replied, "And you shall be known as Galen ("Crazy" in Old Nordic). Galen has never fully recovered his whits after the accident. It is not uncommon for Galen to carry on a conversation with Steve as if he was there. He still suffers massive memory loss and remembers very little of his life before his devotion to his patron, Amazing Steve. His only memory of his life before is his trinket, a coin with unknown minting, and his Arcane Focus, a lump of coal that he thinks is priceless gem.
Gralok Rootclimber (Root) Athunakume, my Goliath Divination Wizard.
Gralok was born the third son of the third son of the chief of the Athunakume tribe. He was not as strong as his brothers or uncles so early on it was assumed that he would one day be a shaman for tribe. When Gralok was 9, he fell very ill. He was bedridden for many days. During one of his many days of delirium, he had a vision from the All-father. His vision foretold the destruction of his tribe at the hands of one of their own. The vision was that of a their chief leading them to ruin. When Gralok had recovered enough to share is story, he told his father, who in turn told his father, of this vision.
The chief , his grandfather Lazarok Strongcaller, laughed at Gralok and insulted him, naming him Rootclimber to convey just how low his grandfather thought of him. Life continued for the tribe. Gralok, now known by his tribe as Rootclimber, or just Root, still loved his tribe and was determined to show them that he was committed, even if they no longer saw him in the same way. Root did not not acquire the same skills of shamanism in the same manner as his teachers. He had the aptitude but it was not intrinsic or intuitive, it was learned. Root had to study his skills daily in order to recreate his powers. Three years later when Root was 12, The oldest son of the chief, Thadak Stormstalker, a bitter and spiteful man, challenged his father for the leadership of the tribe. As is the way with many Goliath tribes, the challenge was determined in single combat. Thadak mercilessly defeated his father in 12 rounds of hand to hand combat. Lazarok was so severely beaten that he did not survive the night. His body was burned on the sunset of the third day as is the custom of his tribe.
During the funeral rite, Root saw an image in the fire. It was a repeat of his fevered dream granted to him by the All-father during his illness three years ago. This time, whether due to the lack of illness, or Root's increased maturity, the vision was clearer. It was the exact same vision but this time Root could see that the chief responsible for the ruin of the tribe was Thadak, not Lazarok. Root was crushed by this vision. How could he have missed this detail originally? He felt responsible. He also worried about the future of his tribe under Thadak's leadership. Root knew that there was nothing he could do now. He would have to bide his time.
That night, Root had another dream. This one was of himself. He was in one of the human cities to the south. Having never been there, he had no means of knowing which one. He saw himself with new friends and wielding new powers. He could see that the All-father had a different task for him and that if he wanted to save his tribe, he would have to leave it. Root was gone before sun broke the horizon the next morning. On his way out of the village, he paid his last respects to Lazarok. When a body burns, often all that remains are the largest bones. Root, wanting to have something of his grandfather, gingerly gathered up his femur and wrapped it in his bedroll. It would become his Arcane Focus. Root will eventually return but not until he has the gathered sufficient enough power to face Thadak and stop whatever ruin he will bring; and Root will do anything to save his tribe.
Edit: Bonus points if you can, "see what I did there." ;)
Kalorash was conceived from the loving union of his forester father, Wilker, and his orphaned mother, Keshi. Orc raids on Wilker's village were uncommon but not rare. After one such occasion, Wilker and the local constabulary set out to deal with the raiders. When they had successfully tracked the raiders back to their settlement, the found that another competing Orc tribe had beaten them to it. Every last orc was slaughtered, except one, an adolescent girl who had hidden under the body of her mother. The town folk wanted to put this last orc to the sword but Wilker took pity on her and not only offered to take her in but promised to raise her as one of his own. Wilker never had a family of his own so it was nice to have someone in his quiet hovel.
It was not easy at first. Wilker had to teach her common, as well as normal human customs. But, Keshi was a quick study. She was smart enough to realize the kindness of Wilker's grace so she readily adapted to her new life. She learned to cook, sew, and to read and write. Wilker was not a young man when he first took in Keshi. He knew that she was likely to be the only family he would ever know. Keshi had other ideas. She grew to love Wilker and as she grew older, was not shy is sharing her feelings. Wilker was quick to reject her advances; that it was not appropriate, but Keshi persisted. She longed to share her love with Wilker by giving him a legacy. Wilker finally relented. He finally admitted to himself that he loved her too. On one cool Autumn night, Wilker and Keshi were wed under their favorite Dogwood down by the creek, surrounded by their friends and loved ones.
Nine months later, Kalorash was born. Three years later, his little sister Grisha was born. Wilker and Keshi loved their children, and they loved them back. Keshi and Wilker took to teaching her children everything they could about the world. Kalorash in particular was a very quick study. Some would call him a prodigy. He had learned to read and write common, Orcish, and Dwarven by 7. By 11, he had learned his first cantrip. Wilker and Keshi knew that their son had a special gift for learning and that the only way he could achieve his potential would be to go and tutor under the best in academia. Kalorash, or Kal as his friends know him, left home at the age of 14 with a promise to always write and return as often as he could. He hopes one day that Grisha will join him in the big city. In the meantime, he wants to see the world and perhaps one day return home to open his own library.
Morgrom was born a dwarven aasimar living in Western Heartlands in Scornubel (a Scornubian), near Elturel in 1302. He is the child of a Kaerus Thambadar, smithy of Scornubel. His mother Lavona died in childbirth. In 1348, Kaerus fell prey to the many fiends plaguing the Western Heartlands in the mid 1300s. Crushed with the loss of his father and with no ties keeping him in Scornubel, Morgrom set out to Elturel to become one of the famous Hellriders and to battle the hellish fiends.
In 1354, The High Rider of Elturel, begged all citizens to pray to the gods for help to end the torment of the fiends. The angel Zariel answered. When Zariel came, Morgrom answered her call to fight in the Blood War. He was a devoted warrior and knight for his liege and believed in her cause. Like the rest of the Hellriders, he eagerly followed her into Avernus to fight the demons but he eventually became disillusioned. The horrors he witnessed were becoming too much. When it was clear that Zariel was going to be defeated, Morgrom took that opportunity to leave the Nine Hells, with many of the rest of the Hellriders, and make his way back Faerun. Morgrom had come to realize that winning a war takes more than just zeal and strength of arm. It takes strategy and tactics, something Zariel seemed to lack. Morgrom eventually came to find this in the Lady of Strategy, the Red Knight. He has since pledged himself to her cause and to be her champion. But, Morgrom did not escape Avernus unharmed. When Zariel fell, so did Morgrom. He was no longer an aasimar. When Zariel became Fallen, Morgrom became and Zariel Tiefling - as did many of his fellow Hellriders.
Morgrom took up residence in Elturel after he returned. He put the skills in trade his father taught him to good use by founding a small trade house just outside the dock district. Here he lived for nearly 90 years, successfully growing his business, until the betrayal by the High Rider, himself a vampire is disguise. Morgrom once again took up the call of the Hellriders but to no avail. The defeat was total, though short lived. The Companion soon appeared over the city, destroying the undead army of the High Rider. Peace reigned in Elturel for decades and Morgrom grew his business further. In 1490, he took on new servants; a majordomo, a squire, and a gopher (aptly named Gopher) to help run his business, but the growth and the success was not to last. In 1494, the Companion changed into a black orb that tore the whole of Elturel and its populace from the Material Plane and spirited it away to Avernus. Morgrom, sensing something was very wrong, was one of the handful of residents, along with his retainers, that made it out of the city before it vanished. Morgrom is now making his way to Baldur's Gate with the rest of the refugees.
Zanasten is a half-elf originally from the MoonShae Isles. He was always a lazy and brash kid. A bit of petty larceny, the occasional B&E, nothing too dangerous and certainly nothing too deadly. Zanasten always loved the activity at the docks. Something always coming, something always going - and lots of opportunity for a little mischief. One day while up to no good on the docks, he noticed a posting for deck hands on the Jack Glaive, under Captain Pattie Blackwood. Zanasten did not learn of her other name, that of 'Two-Fingers' (on account of her missing the last two fingers on her left hand - a name best not used to her face) until much later. Zanasten saw this as his opportunity to leave the Isles behind and seek further adventure, and mischief, on the Sea of Swords - and if he played his cards right, perhaps even his own ship.
Zanasten signed up for, what he thought at the time was a six month indenture. As it turned out, it was basically an indefinite life sentence to serve Capt. Two Fingers. pirating along the Nelanther Triangle (Nelanther to Candlekeep to Snowdown and back). Zanasten tried to make the best of it. While he was a quick study, he was also lazy and sought every advantage to get out of work, or better yet, get someone else to do it for him. Luckily for Zanasten, he greatest gifts were just starting to manifest. He began to notice that the more time he spent in the sun (and there was a lot of it on the Sea of Swords), the more his skin began to roughen and texture, almost like scales. At first he just thought it was a bad sunburn but it did not take long before he became alarmed. When the ship next made port in Candlekeep, a cleric was brought on board to investigate. After spending a good 30 minutes looking Zanasten over, the cleric informed him that there was nothing wrong with him, he was simply starting to exhibit some of his latent species heritage, that of a Bronze Dragon. The cleric told him to not be surprised if other abilities started to manifest, like sorcery.
Ecstatic, Zanasten now saw a way to make himself useful, without the need to perform the normal labor of your typical first year pirate. Too bad Capt Two Fingers didn't agree. She didn't need a sorcerer. What could Mage Hand do that a strong arm and a strong back couldn't do? The rest of the sailors on the pirate ship were not too excited to have someone both potentially so dangerous, but also so unpredictable on the ship. Capt Two Fingers, neither wishing to have a mutiny nor deal with such a worthless pirate for years to come, decided to maroon Zanasten, for the pirate crime of slovenliness, on the Cimarine Isles west of Candlekeep. There Zanasten remained until he could lie his way onto a shipping vessel headed for Baldur's Gate. Zanasten wants nothing more at this time than to save up enough coin to buy his own ship - or even better, steal one.
This is for a character I'll be using in a one shot. Al of us had decided to make joke emo characters and I may have had a little to much fun with it.
Life toward the top of the drow society should have been full of glamour and joy. Which it was for a short time until one of the slavers arrived. It was early in the morning when his father woke him. He was barely able to comprehend what was going one as he and his 8 siblings were forced to hide in the families hidden cellar. They could hear yelling and screaming in the other side of the doors yet it was impossible for them to be heard thanks to a spell his parents had placed on the doors. About two hours go by before the door is opened again. A small sigh spread through the children. That was until the oldest noticed their father was badly wounded. The older children helped patch their father up. The children were told that their mother had been taken along with most of their stuff. He had been left there since the slavers didn’t take males. And if it hadn’t been for his kids, he would have died.
Over the next four years, the family struggled to survive, their name had been tarnished after the slavers had gone through and the nine children as well as their father had moved into a rundown shack. It seemed one misfortune after another for them. What Vaniir thought was going to be a small turn around for his family. He had come across a horse. It had taken a liking to him and had followed him back home. Vaniir had spent about a year properly learning how to ride his horse, which he decided to call Midnight Sun. While the two were out and about a monster attacked. The young drow had not seen it coming and was thrown from Midnight’s back and into some bushes. His head had bounced off the ground, knocking the young male unconscious. Coming to about an hour later, Vaniir crawled out of the bushes and found his horse. The animal had been slain and it’s lower half missing. Shaken, he paid his respects to his horse before quickly leaving. A part of him wanted to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. Whatever had done that could come back and kill him. Several hours later, he arrived back home and told his family what had happened. They consoled him as best they could.
A year had gone by since then and Vaniir was in his late teens. While looking for work in the nearby village, he stumbled across an old man. Except it wasn’t really an old man. It was an elf using some kind of illusion magic to disguise themselves to look old and decrepit. Having no prior knowledge of magic the young drow left the other man alone, deciding it wasn’t worth the risk to point them out. Having finally found some work in a tavern, Vaniir did what he was told and actually made a decent amount of coin. A few months had passed by since he had started working and one of his older brothers had decided to tag a long and have a few drinks. Several hours into Vaniir’s shift, his brother was completely plastered. He ended up stumbling out of the tavern and down toward one of the shrines in town. The younger drow was hoping his older brother was going to get some help. But that didn’t seem to be the case. The clear night sky soon filled with clouds and cracks of thunder as a voice boomed from above. Everyone in the tavern ran out to see Vaniir’s older brother being magically held in place by two clerics. In front of him was what looked like one of the priestesses from the shrine. Her clothes were tattered. Again the voice boomed across the town and accused his older brother of defiling the woman. To the drow’s surprise, his brother sneered and spat at the girl’s feet. This was quickly followed by a bolt of lightning striking him where he stood and killing him instantly. Rushing forward, Vaniir did his best to apologize for whatever his brother had done, yet this being and his servants ignored him. The clerics picked this girl up and carried her away. As he went to pick his brother up, something odd happened. Pitch black smoke swirled around his brother’s corpse before him. His brother’s burnt and charred.corpse stood up Yet it wasn’t Vaniir’s brother in front of him, but some abomination. A roar bellowed from this monster as it swung toward Vaniir. The collision of fist against his skull sent him flying through a window and knocked him out. Several hours later, the young drow woke to complete darkness. He couldn’t move and everything sounded muffled. It took several minutes for him to realize that he was trapped under rubble. Panic struck him as he began to scream and thrash about. Someone had heard him and had gathered a group of people together to dig him out. Once freed, he could see most of the town around him had been destroyed. Whatever his brother had turned into had done this, there was no doubt in his mind.
After this had happened, Vaniir decided it was better if he lived alone. The male felt like his life was cursed as misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went. The drow was now 23 years old and living alone in a small cottage in the woods. He had stopped going to town and foraged for everything he needed. And while foraging one day, he stumbled across someone in a clearing. They were wearing full length robes of ashen grey with what looked like a demon’s skull embroidered on the back of it. Deciding to hide and not draw attention to himself, the male drow watched as this person opened a portal to a place of fire. The male’s breath caught as a large red hand reached out and opened the portal more. Vaniir knew what this was even though he had never dealt with anything from the nine hells before. An arch demon stood before the robes figure. The grin on its face sent a chill down his spine and how it spoke made his blood run cold. The robed being knelt before it before offering it a dagger with a blood red blade. He watched as the demon took the dagger, looked it over and plunged it into the robed figure’s skull. This caused Vaniir to gasp and draw the attention of the arch-demon. That unholy chuckle caused the drow to freeze in place. Letting go of the dagger he took what looked like a single step forward. Yet he was instantly in front of the man. To his surprise the robed figure with the dagger in it’s head rose from the ground and removed said blade. Stepping forward, it lowered it’s hood. Stood before him was a female wood elf. She had long black hair that was braided and draped over her right shoulder. Her eyes were almost as piercing as the arch-demon beside her. And to Vaniir’s surprise, the demon took a step back. It spoke again and the language it used made his blood run cold again. The woman glanced at it and nodded before speaking in elvish. “Be grateful. You get to live to see another day. Leave before I have a change of heart.” Without responding, Vaniir turned tail and took off. He had only gone a few feet before a soft chuckle reached him. Glancing back, he could see the female elf holding her hand up. Her eyes had turned pure red for a moment. Fearing the worst, he ran faster and tripped. Tumbling forward, Vaniir barely saw the portal around him open then quickly close. Skidding on the ground, the male felt his hand hit something. Looking up, he saw a battered sword stuck in the ground. There was a strong urge tat welled up inside of him. An urge he couldn’t fight. So the drow reached forward and pulled the blade out of the ground. A voice echoed in his head as he held the sword in front of him. “Ahh I see I have a new servant. One so full of misfortune. Wield me and I can take that misfortune away. Use me to exact vengeance on those that took your mother from you.” Vaniir Stared at the blade, fighting to comprehend what he had just heard. Finally the male nodded. The blade then disappeared from his grip. “Just think of me and I will return to you.” With another nod, Vaniir stood up straight and began to walk
Three years had gone by since that fateful day. The male drow had learned a lot from his new sword. The first being its name; The Nightstalker. The blade soon taught him how to use magic and even revealed some spells that were a part of his bloodline. One skill he learned rather quickly was using his magical darkness to his advantage. Most beings could not see in magical darkness. Even those that thrived in the darkness were put at a severe disadvantage. Yet his patron granted him the ability to see through any darkness. Whether it was mundane or magical. While traveling, Vaniir joined a group of kindred spirits. Each of these people seemed to have their own darkness inside of them. They had traveled together for sometime before a noble family requested they go save their son from what was like a sure death. The reward was good so Vaniir agreed to do it.
HAGGLEBLUF - Chaotic Neutral Rock Gnome Wizard (Illusionist)
APPEARANCE
Hagglebluf is a plump gnome with sweeping grey locks and an impressive beard compensating for his balded crown. Aged and weathered, his appearance is not flattered by the furrowing of his brow as he regularly gazes into the Orb of Hulicorm.
For reasons unknown to him, Hagglebluf casts no shadow.
ALLIES
Could Hagglebluf be a former apprentice of Master Illusionist Tessalar Hulicorm?
ENEMIES
Hagglebluf is hunted by the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors for a missunderstanding regarding the ownership of certain magical goods.
BACKSTORY
With a puff of purple smoke and the scent of juniper, Hagglebluf found himself released from entrapment within an illusion gone awry. A simple feat of taking the appearance of an old tome had inadvertently triggered a transmutation without means of reversal. Now free, Hagglebluf observed his surroundings. It was a store brimming with scrolls, potions and other wizarding paraphernalia. Before him stood the shocked customer who had plucked him off the shelf, thinking him to be just another tome of wizardly lore. Unequipped and... unrobed... Hagglebluf hastily attired and outfitted himself from the store's stock before taking off down the street, the enraged shouts of the shopkeep trailing behind him.
As he trotted through the streets, something heavy rumbled around in Hagglebluf's pocket. He reached inside and withdrew an orb of glistening fuchsia crystal. On one side it bore the sigil of the renowned illusionist Tessalar Hulicorm... although Hagglebluf was certain the orb hadn't been there when he "appropriated" the robe. The orb radiated with the knowing thrum of illusion magic.
A few blocks down and safe from the storekeep's ire, Hagglebluf took a moment to rest. Contemplating his predicament, he realised he had no memory of the events leading up to his imprisonment... or any of his former life. He knew of the world, but only anecdotally from what he presumed had been decades of voracious study. He recalled no practical experience of actually living in it. To make matters worse, as the shadows lengthened over the cityscape in the late afternoon sun, Hagglebluf noticed his own shadow was... missing. Padding himself down, the chalky consistency of his coat confirmed he was indeed real and not another ineptly formed illusion.
With no memory of his former life nor a shadow to accompany him, Hagglebluf set off towards a bustling tavern to ponder his next actions over a mug of spiced ale. As he walked, Hagglebluf scooped up a handful of pebbles strewn amongst the street cobblestone and tossed them into the air. With a whispered command, what appeared to be a few gold coins landed in his palm. Ale isn't free.
Celony was born in a Triton Colony that was built close to a gate to the elemental plane of water, charged with preventing monsters of the sea entry into the material world. While most Tritons enjoy fighting, Celony struggled to find much of a passion for anything. He visited the Triton equivalent of college, a place where scholars were trained, and fell in with a bunch of stereotypical student revolutionaries, because their leader was charismatic and inspiring and sharing someones strong opinion seemed almost as good as having an own. Mostly, Celony intended to become a bard and write witty songs about how the Triton Elders are silly doodooheads.
Then, however, the Nautilus society, as the wannabe-revolutionaries called themselves, caught wind of an actual goverment conspiracy: The Tritons were aiding a powerful sea beast in sinking ships as it saw fit, in return for its promise to hold back its brethren on the other side of the gate. As Celony and his friends tried to inform the public, the elders started to hunt them down, killing everyone but Celony, who, while fleeing through a kelp field, unintentionally swam right into an underwater fey crossing and into the domain of the turtle-like archfey Tortar Sith (which, according to online translators, is Irish for Fairy Turtle, I am so creative), who offered him protection, to recover from his wounds, and a new destiny.
Celony, who has since left the water for his own safety, is now, on behalf of the mysterious schemes of his patron (read: because Celony saw a tortoise, considered it a sign and followed it), part of a diplomatic delegation to establish a relationship between two kingdoms. This doesn't entirely fit right with Celony, who has developed sort of a general dislike for all authority, but he wants to see what his patron has planned for him and feeling like the hero of two kingdoms helps him in numbing his survivors guilt.
Tl;dr: Grantaire from Les Mis, but he survived and is also a fishperson that follows the command of a giant fairy turtle.
still working on this one Lizardfolk Warlock (Hexblade)
Gax was born in a little lizardfolk village in jagged Tooth Swamp. He was the runt of the Litter so life was hard for him always get bullied by his whole tribe for be weaker then all other. They would always make him eat the leftover never let him feed properly. Making him sleep outside. The only one who seem to care about Gax was his mother she would try to sneak food to him from time to time to help him until his mother disappeared on his 9th year gax Gax would often have dreams about a mysterious women with the skin of a Snake but her face is always hidden under a dark hood and a snake mask this mysterious women would tell gax how he was her champion and how he need to leave this horrible place and how he was born for a great destiny. Gax thought they where just dreams. Until when he turn 13 and was out try find some food when he seen a ox run in to a cave he followed it in when he got in the cave the ox decided to charge impaling Gax in the stomach badly. With gax losing blood and about be killed an ox he heard the mysterious women voice say you musnt die here take my blade and become my champion and slay this beast and with a green spark of arcane energy and strange look blade appear in front of gax. Gax grab the blade and slashed the beast with one slash of his sword. The voice sayed now you have the power you deserve my champion. Now leave your horrible village and seek out my long lost temple. And with that the voice disappeared. Gax then heard the voice of his older brother and chief of the tribe what have you found there you runt give it over to me as his brother try to grab it it flashed with a strange green arcane flash and push his brother back 10 feet and the voice came back and told gax to run before his tribe try to use him for evil. So gax took of running with his brother screaming we will find you someday you runt and when we do we will dominate the world.
Helm Whitemane (My Half-Elf Paladin for Icewind Dale: Rime Of The Frostmaiden)
May contain a spoiler on the PC Secrets in Icewind Dale: Rime Of The Frostmaiden
Helm Whitemane was born on the 28th of Deepwinter 1451 DR, he lived in the Cormanthyian Reaches of Myth Drannor, surrounded by small grasslands and the thick, majestic evergreen trees of the Cormanthor Forest in central Faerun. Helm Whitemane worked with his Human Father as a Blacksmith crafting intricate Elven Weapons and the best you'll find west of Sea Of Fallen Stars. Helm's mother, however, died just after the birth of him, Helm can barely remember his mother and Helm's father never speaks about his her or anybody else on that side of the family. As a youth Helm didn't question his future as a Blacksmith, he enjoyed the simplicity of his life away from the troubles of the world and found that Blacksmithing was an addition to this simplicity. Every week he and his father would take a journey north to a Wayshrine Of Lathander as it was his father's family tradition. Helm, as a boy, would play with wooden sticks and believe he was slaying invisible Trolls, riding mystical Dragons and when he would read the Stories of Lathander he couldn't help but think about a life other than helping around the forge, a life of Honor, Courage and Sacrifice however Helm would dare not speak of this to his proud father.
By 1478 DR, Helm was still living with his loving father and he would often help around his forge, by now Helm was an Artisan of crafting weapons and armours, learning all his father's skills and advice to craft excellent weapons and forge the toughest of armours. Tensions began to rise amongst Sembia and The Dalelands, Myth Drannor knew that if the two went to war then somehow they would be pulled into it. When war broke out Myth Drannor sent forces to assist the struggling armies of the Dalesfolk and so supply for weapons and armour were in high demand and Helm's Father and himself worked doubly as hard to help Myth Drannor on their campaign. Word got around that the Netherese Empire planned to manipulate Myth Drannor's Mythral and plan a full-scale invasion of Myth Drannor.
As soon as this word got out Helm and his father had to flee Myth Drannor as it was a too higher risk to stay and defend Myth Drannor. With nowhere to go, since returning to Myth Drannor would be too risky. They journeyed to a town called Harrowdale nearby Myth Drannor which allowed Helm and his father to stay in a closeby inn. Eventually, they heard the news that Shade had failed in their attempts to invade Myth Drannor but collided with Myth Drannor leaving it in ruins. With hundreds of refugees from the ruined city flowing to Harrowdale for captivity Helm and his father had to move on. Helm's father thought it would be best to head to his brother's farm in the small town of Ironspur in the region of Damara and live there for the time being. They travelled through the White Pass and soon arrived in the Damarian capital of Helgabal where they heard of the death of Gareth Dragonsbane and the coronation of Yarin Frostmantle, Yarin Frostmantle ruled as a selfish tyrant and he vanquished any attempt of being overthrown.
They travelled North of Helgabal praying for protection at any Wayshrines of Lathander they found along the way, they arrived at Ironspur and met Bjorn Whitemane, Helm's father's brother. Bjorn welcomed his brother and Helm with open arms and eventually, Helm's father set up a forge and continued to work as a Blacksmith for the town of Ironspur. Helm's father was very curious of the native Bloodstone ore mined by the local dwarves and he began to use this rare ore, crafting ingots out of it and then forging weapons with the ingots. In 1492 DR on the 15th of Uktar, preparations for the Feast Of The Moon started and people were sharing stories and enjoying the time they had before Winter struck. Rumours were spreading however of a Young Red Dragon being sighted in the Galena Mountains and that a group of Adventurers were being sent up to deal with the problem and also acquire a large sum of gold if they defeated it. The next day while Helm was working with his father crafting a brand new Suit of Plate Armor a loud, thunderous roar came from the Galena Mountains and Helm and his father saw a large figure fly out from the mountains in a bloodthirsty rage. Helm froze in fear for a second and his father yelled at Helm to hide. Helm, as much as he wanted to defend his town, listened to his father's wishes and took a Longsword and Shield from his father's armoury, donned a suit of Half Plate that they were recently working on and took Bjorn's horse. He rode to the gate of Ironspur and turned around to see the town.
The Dragon neared Ironspur in its bloodthirsty rage, his speed was unquestionable and was already on top of the town before anybody could react. Citizens from the town were running around trying to find a place to hide and the local militia was throwing spears and shooting arrows at the Dragon but its scales were so tough no arrow could pierce it. The Dragon lets loose a wrath of destruction on the town, each house was lit ablaze in fire and entire shops were demolished from the ferocity of the attack. People who were close friends with Helm and nearly everyone he knew were critically injured or already dead. Helm was at the gates of the town, he battled through the fear that was trying to overwhelm him, jumped off his horse and walked towards the monstrous beast. The Dragon laughed and landed on the ground to face the Half-Elf, Helm faced the Dragon with a look of Determination and Vengence. Helm pulled out his Sword and Shield and the Dragon let out the fiery, intense flames of its breath but Helm put his shield in the way, the flames in no way, shape or form was going to stop his determination to slay the creature. Resisting the flames Helm Whitemane continued walking towards the Dragon and by the time Helm was in arms reach of the Dragon its Breath Weapon ran out, Helm smirked at the Dragon and swung his Sword at the Dragon's face, the Dragon roared as the damaging blow slashes it across the face. Helm keeps delivering massive hits to the large beast, the Dragon realises the strength of this Half-Elf and attempts to retreat and fly away. As the Dragon takes off Helm jumps onto its back, the Dragon flys 30 feet into the air and Helm continues to slash at its head, the Dragon roars in an agonizing nature and it can't take any more attacks. It crashes down and collides with the ground, Helm had slain the Dragon. Some believe that Lathander gave Helm the strength and courage that day but deep down Helm always knew he was always meant to be a fighter. Helm quickly searched the burning town for survivors, barely 100 made it our alive, all of them injured.
As Helm was helping other survivors he saw his father fall to the ground stumbling from outside a shop, Helm rushed over to his father. Helm's father was grievously injured and he knew he was going to die, Helm's father uttered these quite words to Helm;
"Son, I have hidden something from you for a very long time" He coughs and then barely continues,
"You are heir to the Neverwinter Throne, your mother, Navarra Alagondar died at your birth and abandoned you during The Ruining of Neverwinter, I found you when I was travelling in the area, you are the lost heir to the throne!" Just before he died he said to Helm,
"Tell no one, nobody can know this secret or you will be killed. Flee to Icewind Dale! Nobody will know of your secret there! Find refuge in one of the Ten-Towns and stay there until you feel the time is right." he hands Helm his most prized possession, his Dragon Slayer Greatsword and then dies.
Holding back tears Helm takes the Sword and flees from the town before anybody notices him leaving and starts his long Journey to Icewind Dale...
REMEMBER: Wizards Of The Coast does not own DDB, they are two different companies. When you buy a physical book, WotC receives the money you bought it for, not DDB and vice versa. If you want a digital key to get an online book for free because you have the hardcopy book then DDB makes no money because you don't buy off DDB you buy off WotC, so please stop making threads about this issue. DDB needs money to continue helping people and servers aren't cheap.
I've just set up a new fire genasi blood hunter, called Ignis Firestorm, here's her back story:
On the eve I was to be wed, dark monsters came down upon my village and consumed the souls of six of our best fighters, and six of our childer. One of those fighters was my promised beloved, Zallus, and one of those childer was my young brother, Atticus. They became demonic and at first we fled. They hunted us though and many more of us died before we began fighting back. I saw my dear brother killed and collapsed at the feet of my beloved. With his flaming axe held high he brought it down upon me. His once fiery eyes burned no more. There was nothing but darkness. Zallus was no more. As I stared into the abyss I knew what I had to do and I thrust my sword through his heart, forever darkening my own. Stained with the blood of our loved ones, the few of us that survived rallied together. Legend has it that once you have stared into the heart of darkness your bloodline will be damned forever more. Haunted by our demons, we swore a blood oath to never return to cursed land and to dedicate our lives to atonement. We trained in the dark magic that ruined us and grew in strength. Now our alliance purges the kingdom of dark monsters. We fight to avenge the souls of our loves ones and to protect the innocent. Driven by our nightmares, we hope by saving others from their damnation our souls may yet be redeemed.
Members of the Alliance of the Black Skull rarely fight together and prefer to hunt independently, but have been known to band together to bring down stronger demons. They know they have a reliable network of allies to call upon in times of need. The Alliance is headed by my elderly father, Grand Hunter Xarafear Firestorm. My mother, Gloriana Firestorm, was killed in combat by my possessed brother, who was in turn killed by my tearful father.
I also have a pseudodragon familiar called Dracarys (original, I know, but give me a break coming up with names is hard), who is playful but shy and has a costly habit of swallowing gold pieces. I rescued him in the wild after his mother abandoned him, he reminded me of myself and we have now formed a strong bond.
Zorubaash "Goremash" Forgeborn, the Lost Warchief:
Zorubaash was born to the Bloodfist tribe of the mountain orcs through a breeding program started by his former War Chief, Gruuk. Despite the counsel of the shamans and elders, Gruuk desired power over all, and so he sought to create smarter, faster, more cunning orcs...and, ultimately, more cruel ones. What he got was a Half-Orc who defied his mad hunger and sought the ways of the shamans, leading his brood to become the strongest, first generation of half-orcs in the Bloodfist tribe. A towering, stone gray halfbreed, with sable black hair and the red eyes of a berserker, Zorubaash eventually found his affinity for the spirits on a long hunt that nearly cost him his life. Though lone hunting had been banned by the War Chief, preferring to send his warriors to raid lowland villages and claim “prizes” for chief and tribe, Zorubaash preferred the old ways, the ways of the hunt and the ancient spirits. Upon his return, dragging the corpse of the Dire Wolf that had nearly killed him, Zorubaash was met by the head shaman, who handed him a “seeking” bag, broke his tribal bone-blade, and set him on the path of the wanderer, to seek the spirits and bring their wisdom back to the tribe. From that day onward, he was no longer marked by the red eyes of the berserker. Instead, his eyes became like that of the Bear, a deep amber, that pierced the darkness and sought hidden paths.
Separated from his people, he adopted the common-tongue version of his name, "Goremash", and kept his tribal affiliation hidden. The head shaman had advised caution and cunning when approaching the lowland peoples, as they now knew the Bloodfist tribe to be nothing but bloodthirsty raiders. He grew accustomed to the name, as he grew in strength and wisdom, meeting many he would call “friends”. Together, they saved the town of Venzor and became heroes, by breaking a Yuanti snake cult, slaying their demigod, and thwarting the machinations of a vile, Drow warlock, Syrdar. However, it wasn't enough for Zorubaash, now “Gore” to his friends, as he still longed to return to his people.
He formed a home and a family of sorts there, among the people of Venzor and his companions, the Band of the Noble Rat. He even took an elven lover, and seemed, for the most part, content. Eventually, he came upon a broken and shamed tribe of wandering, Orc barbarians and smiths, called the Forgeborn. He broke their Shame, reclaimed their Pride, and eventually reunited the tribe, claiming them as his own. Along the way, the Band of the Noble Rat were ambushed by demonic minions of Syrdar and cast into a Dracolich’s extra-dimensional dungeon, as offerings to grant Syrdar with lichdom. The plan failed, as Gore and his allies slew the Dracolich and returned to Venzor and the Forgeborn, with the creature’s skull in tow. Things were good, for a time, but it still wasn't enough. Even with his wives, his own tribe, and their soon-to-be-born children, he still yearned to see his original tribe, again.
The spirits showed him troubling visions of his people's corruption at the hands of their mad chieftain, a dark wizard, and even the Orc Mother, herself. Zorubaash sent scouts to find any surviving members of his tribe, untainted by dark magic and demons. His scouts returned with two. His sword brother and former rival, Ronaag, had been mangled and marked by Syrdar’s dark magic for speaking out against Gruuk the Bloody. Raashazur was mostly unharmed, but she had also been branded by Syrdar’s blood magic. Zorubaash went on a quest to find a cure for his surviving kin, but was captured and used as a ritual sacrifice to remove his soul and fill his mighty body with that of a demon, in order to fulfill the plans of Syrdar and his dark patron. Drifting in the void between worlds, he was found by a forgotten deity, Laylem, the Lady of the Lost, who had herself been guided by their mutual friend, Okumo, the Great Bear Spirit. She granted Zorubaash a chance to save them all, with the last of her power, casting his soul across the Star Sea, into new worlds and dangers, to find what has been lost.
Reborn in another body, in another world, Zorubaash now seeks power beyond the gods themselves. He has met with some interesting people and still others he would call “friends”, but he is determined to return to his home and to his people. He is a world-walker, guided by Okumo and empowered by the Pride of his people, the Forgeborn. He is charged by Laylem to find a way home and to shatter the shackles of fate that fetters their shared world. He is Zorubaash Forgeborn, Cursebreaker, the Unbound Blade...the Lost Warchief.
Put your spoiler here.
This was a character I created a few years ago. He's one of my longest running characters (ran for a solid year straight of weekly sessions and keeps getting "resurrected" in other, amiable campaigns). I've got chapters of his side adventures/stories on AOO. Chronicling his adventures has become a hobby of its own. ^_^
The Foxmore family, a proud and respected family within New Teris, follows the guidance of the Platinum Dragon Bahamut and has had a member of the family serve in the military every generation. Every first born child in the Foxmore line has been born an Aasimar and becomes next in line to become a cleric of Bahamut and head of the family.
Distinguished with a glowing gold symbol on their forehead, they are renowned for their cunning and battle prowess and have to complete the family tradition of "Triail an tsolais" or trial of light, upon becoming 21.
Sheiva was born a twin and inherited her family's legacy as an Aasimar, but her brother Azdaja was simply born human and growing up resenting Tiamat's powers that he believed should have been his. Growing up in a martial family and raised under their father Eramil's strict guidance, they both became warriors in their own right and upon their 21st birthday, they were sent on their separate paths, Sheiva venturing on her path of light trial into the great beyond and Azdaja joining the millitary.
During the year that followed, Sheiva has been helping villages with healing magic and dispatching pests or animals causing issues, when she receives word from her mother Merilwen, saying that Azdaja had deserted the line of duty, but in order to save the family's honor they have decreed official word that he died in battle. Sheiva, furious at her brother's actions and shame that he brought to her family now is tracking her brother down to get some answers and put an end to his transgressions, one way or another.
Short idea for a backstory I came up with for a noble Aasimar cleric :)
Hi I need some help with my very first character I am not very good at making backstories I will be playing as a yuan ti pureblood bladesinger his alignment will be lawful neutral I am thinking of going with exile noble a outcast among his own people but I am trying to work out the reasons why he is a bladesinger in the first place which is what I am having a hard time with any help would be gratefully appreciated :)
@TheInfinitySock - Typically, Bladesingers are exclusively elven. So this leads to three possibilities: either A) you were adopted by elves at a very very young age and raised by elves as an elf, or B) you performed a service for an elven community of such immense importance that they granted you permission to learn their secrets, or C) your yuan-ti community had a fighting style very similar to Bladesong, and so you'll be using the game mechanics of Bladesong because it's simpler than transposing all those rules into a new yuan-ti subclass that is essentially the same thing by a different name. (C) is probably the most likely scenario.
So... yuan-ti are usually devious and cunning demon worshipers whose status in their society is based on two factors: their subrace (pureblood/malison/abomination) which never changes, and their standing with the temple of Sseth, which can change quite often. Being a pureblood means you started at the bottom of society. If you belonged to a noble house, you were probably employed to infiltrate and spy upon civilized communities, to earn their trust and learn their secrets, to make it easier for your people to attack and subjugate them
So maybe you didn't like being at the bottom of the heap. Who would? So you constantly strove to prove yourself worthy of Sseth's favor. Which would mean you were a most clever and deceitful spy, and performed your duties so well that you earned not just the notice of the temple, but their favor as well, and thus you were given an opportunity rarely bestowed upon one of such lowly birth - the chance to learn [insert whatever the word is that yuan-ti use to describe the subclass that elves call Bladesong].
But this would mean that you are not just evil, but Evil Incarnate! So... if you want to play the character as lawful neutral... here's a better idea...
As a pureblood you look nearly human, so you were employed as a spy to learn all the secrets of those disgusting and smelly human creatures so that your tribe could more easily destroy them. BUT! You spent so much time around humans (and elves and half-elves) that you began to realize that humans and elves weren't really the evil treacherous smelly disgusting creatures that you had been told they were. In fact, they had many admirable traits. So you began to have an identity crisis. You began to feel guilty for all the evil things you had done to humans and elves. Basically - you defected. You divulged all your secrets to the leaders of a human or maybe an elven community, and you warned them of the impending attack from the yuan-ti. With your help, they were able to repel the attack. Of course, this made you a traitor and a pariah among your own people. Every yuan-ti temple probably has WANTED posters with your face on them and a reward for your murder. But! The elven or elven+human community that you helped to save was very grateful for your help. So they began to train you in their Bladesinger fighting style, so that you'll be able to defend yourself against whatever assassins the yuan-ti inevitably send after you.
So now you're a lawful neutral yuan-ti pureblood Bladesinger, traveling the lands defending the common folk from whatever nasty evils are out there. And all the while, you're constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if tonight is the night that the assassins catch up with you.
Tayn of Darkwood. Lvl 10 human Life Cleric of Lathander. Retired.
Ikram Sahir ibn Malik al-Sayyid Ra'ad, Second Son of the House of Ra'ad, Defender of the Burning Sands. Lvl 9 Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer + Greater Fire Elemental Devil.
Viktor Gavriil. Lvl 20 White Dragonborn Grave Cleric, of Kurgan the God of Death.
My Protector Aasimar Celestial Warlock.
Knocked in the Head: At young age, Galen (known by another name back then) was a tomb raider. One day, while running from the animated guardians of a holy site, Galen ran head first into a low hanging tree branch and was knocked unconscious. Upon waking, the first thing Galen saw was a massive armored squirrel holding a spear (actually it was a Ratatosk Warlord sent by a Deva). The squirrel communicated telepathically with Galen and told him that the gods were disappointed with him and his tomb raiding. Being amazed (and bereft of his whits from the head injury) by this huge sentient and telepathic squirrel, Galen promised to change his ways and devote his life to being a follower of this squirrel, if only he would spare his life.
The Warlord, amused by this very odd Aasimar, agreed. Galen asked the squirrel, "Oh holy one, what shall I call you?" To which the Warlord replied, "I am called Amalstephanol." Galen decided that from that day forward, this massive squirrel will forever be known as the "Amazing Steve." Further amused by this, Amalstephanol replied, "And you shall be known as Galen ("Crazy" in Old Nordic). Galen has never fully recovered his whits after the accident. It is not uncommon for Galen to carry on a conversation with Steve as if he was there. He still suffers massive memory loss and remembers very little of his life before his devotion to his patron, Amazing Steve. His only memory of his life before is his trinket, a coin with unknown minting, and his Arcane Focus, a lump of coal that he thinks is priceless gem.
Gralok was born the third son of the third son of the chief of the Athunakume tribe. He was not as strong as his brothers or uncles so early on it was assumed that he would one day be a shaman for tribe. When Gralok was 9, he fell very ill. He was bedridden for many days. During one of his many days of delirium, he had a vision from the All-father. His vision foretold the destruction of his tribe at the hands of one of their own. The vision was that of a their chief leading them to ruin. When Gralok had recovered enough to share is story, he told his father, who in turn told his father, of this vision.
The chief , his grandfather Lazarok Strongcaller, laughed at Gralok and insulted him, naming him Rootclimber to convey just how low his grandfather thought of him. Life continued for the tribe. Gralok, now known by his tribe as Rootclimber, or just Root, still loved his tribe and was determined to show them that he was committed, even if they no longer saw him in the same way. Root did not not acquire the same skills of shamanism in the same manner as his teachers. He had the aptitude but it was not intrinsic or intuitive, it was learned. Root had to study his skills daily in order to recreate his powers. Three years later when Root was 12, The oldest son of the chief, Thadak Stormstalker, a bitter and spiteful man, challenged his father for the leadership of the tribe. As is the way with many Goliath tribes, the challenge was determined in single combat. Thadak mercilessly defeated his father in 12 rounds of hand to hand combat. Lazarok was so severely beaten that he did not survive the night. His body was burned on the sunset of the third day as is the custom of his tribe.
During the funeral rite, Root saw an image in the fire. It was a repeat of his fevered dream granted to him by the All-father during his illness three years ago. This time, whether due to the lack of illness, or Root's increased maturity, the vision was clearer. It was the exact same vision but this time Root could see that the chief responsible for the ruin of the tribe was Thadak, not Lazarok. Root was crushed by this vision. How could he have missed this detail originally? He felt responsible. He also worried about the future of his tribe under Thadak's leadership. Root knew that there was nothing he could do now. He would have to bide his time.
That night, Root had another dream. This one was of himself. He was in one of the human cities to the south. Having never been there, he had no means of knowing which one. He saw himself with new friends and wielding new powers. He could see that the All-father had a different task for him and that if he wanted to save his tribe, he would have to leave it. Root was gone before sun broke the horizon the next morning. On his way out of the village, he paid his last respects to Lazarok. When a body burns, often all that remains are the largest bones. Root, wanting to have something of his grandfather, gingerly gathered up his femur and wrapped it in his bedroll. It would become his Arcane Focus. Root will eventually return but not until he has the gathered sufficient enough power to face Thadak and stop whatever ruin he will bring; and Root will do anything to save his tribe.
Edit: Bonus points if you can, "see what I did there." ;)
Kalorash (Kal) Wilker, Half-orc Abjuration Wizard
Kalorash was conceived from the loving union of his forester father, Wilker, and his orphaned mother, Keshi. Orc raids on Wilker's village were uncommon but not rare. After one such occasion, Wilker and the local constabulary set out to deal with the raiders. When they had successfully tracked the raiders back to their settlement, the found that another competing Orc tribe had beaten them to it. Every last orc was slaughtered, except one, an adolescent girl who had hidden under the body of her mother. The town folk wanted to put this last orc to the sword but Wilker took pity on her and not only offered to take her in but promised to raise her as one of his own. Wilker never had a family of his own so it was nice to have someone in his quiet hovel.
It was not easy at first. Wilker had to teach her common, as well as normal human customs. But, Keshi was a quick study. She was smart enough to realize the kindness of Wilker's grace so she readily adapted to her new life. She learned to cook, sew, and to read and write. Wilker was not a young man when he first took in Keshi. He knew that she was likely to be the only family he would ever know. Keshi had other ideas. She grew to love Wilker and as she grew older, was not shy is sharing her feelings. Wilker was quick to reject her advances; that it was not appropriate, but Keshi persisted. She longed to share her love with Wilker by giving him a legacy. Wilker finally relented. He finally admitted to himself that he loved her too. On one cool Autumn night, Wilker and Keshi were wed under their favorite Dogwood down by the creek, surrounded by their friends and loved ones.
Nine months later, Kalorash was born. Three years later, his little sister Grisha was born. Wilker and Keshi loved their children, and they loved them back. Keshi and Wilker took to teaching her children everything they could about the world. Kalorash in particular was a very quick study. Some would call him a prodigy. He had learned to read and write common, Orcish, and Dwarven by 7. By 11, he had learned his first cantrip. Wilker and Keshi knew that their son had a special gift for learning and that the only way he could achieve his potential would be to go and tutor under the best in academia. Kalorash, or Kal as his friends know him, left home at the age of 14 with a promise to always write and return as often as he could. He hopes one day that Grisha will join him in the big city. In the meantime, he wants to see the world and perhaps one day return home to open his own library.
Edit: break up the blocky text.
My Azriel Tiefling Devotion Paly
Morgrom was born a dwarven aasimar living in Western Heartlands in Scornubel (a Scornubian), near Elturel in 1302. He is the child of a Kaerus Thambadar, smithy of Scornubel. His mother Lavona died in childbirth. In 1348, Kaerus fell prey to the many fiends plaguing the Western Heartlands in the mid 1300s. Crushed with the loss of his father and with no ties keeping him in Scornubel, Morgrom set out to Elturel to become one of the famous Hellriders and to battle the hellish fiends.
In 1354, The High Rider of Elturel, begged all citizens to pray to the gods for help to end the torment of the fiends. The angel Zariel answered. When Zariel came, Morgrom answered her call to fight in the Blood War. He was a devoted warrior and knight for his liege and believed in her cause. Like the rest of the Hellriders, he eagerly followed her into Avernus to fight the demons but he eventually became disillusioned. The horrors he witnessed were becoming too much. When it was clear that Zariel was going to be defeated, Morgrom took that opportunity to leave the Nine Hells, with many of the rest of the Hellriders, and make his way back Faerun. Morgrom had come to realize that winning a war takes more than just zeal and strength of arm. It takes strategy and tactics, something Zariel seemed to lack. Morgrom eventually came to find this in the Lady of Strategy, the Red Knight. He has since pledged himself to her cause and to be her champion. But, Morgrom did not escape Avernus unharmed. When Zariel fell, so did Morgrom. He was no longer an aasimar. When Zariel became Fallen, Morgrom became and Zariel Tiefling - as did many of his fellow Hellriders.
Morgrom took up residence in Elturel after he returned. He put the skills in trade his father taught him to good use by founding a small trade house just outside the dock district. Here he lived for nearly 90 years, successfully growing his business, until the betrayal by the High Rider, himself a vampire is disguise. Morgrom once again took up the call of the Hellriders but to no avail. The defeat was total, though short lived. The Companion soon appeared over the city, destroying the undead army of the High Rider. Peace reigned in Elturel for decades and Morgrom grew his business further. In 1490, he took on new servants; a majordomo, a squire, and a gopher (aptly named Gopher) to help run his business, but the growth and the success was not to last. In 1494, the Companion changed into a black orb that tore the whole of Elturel and its populace from the Material Plane and spirited it away to Avernus. Morgrom, sensing something was very wrong, was one of the handful of residents, along with his retainers, that made it out of the city before it vanished. Morgrom is now making his way to Baldur's Gate with the rest of the refugees.
Half-elf Sun Variant Bronze Draconic Sorcy
Zanasten is a half-elf originally from the MoonShae Isles. He was always a lazy and brash kid. A bit of petty larceny, the occasional B&E, nothing too dangerous and certainly nothing too deadly. Zanasten always loved the activity at the docks. Something always coming, something always going - and lots of opportunity for a little mischief. One day while up to no good on the docks, he noticed a posting for deck hands on the Jack Glaive, under Captain Pattie Blackwood. Zanasten did not learn of her other name, that of 'Two-Fingers' (on account of her missing the last two fingers on her left hand - a name best not used to her face) until much later. Zanasten saw this as his opportunity to leave the Isles behind and seek further adventure, and mischief, on the Sea of Swords - and if he played his cards right, perhaps even his own ship.
Zanasten signed up for, what he thought at the time was a six month indenture. As it turned out, it was basically an indefinite life sentence to serve Capt. Two Fingers. pirating along the Nelanther Triangle (Nelanther to Candlekeep to Snowdown and back). Zanasten tried to make the best of it. While he was a quick study, he was also lazy and sought every advantage to get out of work, or better yet, get someone else to do it for him. Luckily for Zanasten, he greatest gifts were just starting to manifest. He began to notice that the more time he spent in the sun (and there was a lot of it on the Sea of Swords), the more his skin began to roughen and texture, almost like scales. At first he just thought it was a bad sunburn but it did not take long before he became alarmed. When the ship next made port in Candlekeep, a cleric was brought on board to investigate. After spending a good 30 minutes looking Zanasten over, the cleric informed him that there was nothing wrong with him, he was simply starting to exhibit some of his latent species heritage, that of a Bronze Dragon. The cleric told him to not be surprised if other abilities started to manifest, like sorcery.
Ecstatic, Zanasten now saw a way to make himself useful, without the need to perform the normal labor of your typical first year pirate. Too bad Capt Two Fingers didn't agree. She didn't need a sorcerer. What could Mage Hand do that a strong arm and a strong back couldn't do? The rest of the sailors on the pirate ship were not too excited to have someone both potentially so dangerous, but also so unpredictable on the ship. Capt Two Fingers, neither wishing to have a mutiny nor deal with such a worthless pirate for years to come, decided to maroon Zanasten, for the pirate crime of slovenliness, on the Cimarine Isles west of Candlekeep. There Zanasten remained until he could lie his way onto a shipping vessel headed for Baldur's Gate. Zanasten wants nothing more at this time than to save up enough coin to buy his own ship - or even better, steal one.
This is for a character I'll be using in a one shot. Al of us had decided to make joke emo characters and I may have had a little to much fun with it.
Life toward the top of the drow society should have been full of glamour and joy. Which it was for a short time until one of the slavers arrived. It was early in the morning when his father woke him. He was barely able to comprehend what was going one as he and his 8 siblings were forced to hide in the families hidden cellar. They could hear yelling and screaming in the other side of the doors yet it was impossible for them to be heard thanks to a spell his parents had placed on the doors. About two hours go by before the door is opened again. A small sigh spread through the children. That was until the oldest noticed their father was badly wounded. The older children helped patch their father up. The children were told that their mother had been taken along with most of their stuff. He had been left there since the slavers didn’t take males. And if it hadn’t been for his kids, he would have died.
Over the next four years, the family struggled to survive, their name had been tarnished after the slavers had gone through and the nine children as well as their father had moved into a rundown shack. It seemed one misfortune after another for them. What Vaniir thought was going to be a small turn around for his family. He had come across a horse. It had taken a liking to him and had followed him back home. Vaniir had spent about a year properly learning how to ride his horse, which he decided to call Midnight Sun. While the two were out and about a monster attacked. The young drow had not seen it coming and was thrown from Midnight’s back and into some bushes. His head had bounced off the ground, knocking the young male unconscious. Coming to about an hour later, Vaniir crawled out of the bushes and found his horse. The animal had been slain and it’s lower half missing. Shaken, he paid his respects to his horse before quickly leaving. A part of him wanted to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. Whatever had done that could come back and kill him. Several hours later, he arrived back home and told his family what had happened. They consoled him as best they could.
A year had gone by since then and Vaniir was in his late teens. While looking for work in the nearby village, he stumbled across an old man. Except it wasn’t really an old man. It was an elf using some kind of illusion magic to disguise themselves to look old and decrepit. Having no prior knowledge of magic the young drow left the other man alone, deciding it wasn’t worth the risk to point them out. Having finally found some work in a tavern, Vaniir did what he was told and actually made a decent amount of coin. A few months had passed by since he had started working and one of his older brothers had decided to tag a long and have a few drinks. Several hours into Vaniir’s shift, his brother was completely plastered. He ended up stumbling out of the tavern and down toward one of the shrines in town. The younger drow was hoping his older brother was going to get some help. But that didn’t seem to be the case. The clear night sky soon filled with clouds and cracks of thunder as a voice boomed from above. Everyone in the tavern ran out to see Vaniir’s older brother being magically held in place by two clerics. In front of him was what looked like one of the priestesses from the shrine. Her clothes were tattered. Again the voice boomed across the town and accused his older brother of defiling the woman. To the drow’s surprise, his brother sneered and spat at the girl’s feet. This was quickly followed by a bolt of lightning striking him where he stood and killing him instantly. Rushing forward, Vaniir did his best to apologize for whatever his brother had done, yet this being and his servants ignored him. The clerics picked this girl up and carried her away. As he went to pick his brother up, something odd happened. Pitch black smoke swirled around his brother’s corpse before him. His brother’s burnt and charred.corpse stood up Yet it wasn’t Vaniir’s brother in front of him, but some abomination. A roar bellowed from this monster as it swung toward Vaniir. The collision of fist against his skull sent him flying through a window and knocked him out. Several hours later, the young drow woke to complete darkness. He couldn’t move and everything sounded muffled. It took several minutes for him to realize that he was trapped under rubble. Panic struck him as he began to scream and thrash about. Someone had heard him and had gathered a group of people together to dig him out. Once freed, he could see most of the town around him had been destroyed. Whatever his brother had turned into had done this, there was no doubt in his mind.
After this had happened, Vaniir decided it was better if he lived alone. The male felt like his life was cursed as misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went. The drow was now 23 years old and living alone in a small cottage in the woods. He had stopped going to town and foraged for everything he needed. And while foraging one day, he stumbled across someone in a clearing. They were wearing full length robes of ashen grey with what looked like a demon’s skull embroidered on the back of it. Deciding to hide and not draw attention to himself, the male drow watched as this person opened a portal to a place of fire. The male’s breath caught as a large red hand reached out and opened the portal more. Vaniir knew what this was even though he had never dealt with anything from the nine hells before. An arch demon stood before the robes figure. The grin on its face sent a chill down his spine and how it spoke made his blood run cold. The robed being knelt before it before offering it a dagger with a blood red blade. He watched as the demon took the dagger, looked it over and plunged it into the robed figure’s skull. This caused Vaniir to gasp and draw the attention of the arch-demon. That unholy chuckle caused the drow to freeze in place. Letting go of the dagger he took what looked like a single step forward. Yet he was instantly in front of the man. To his surprise the robed figure with the dagger in it’s head rose from the ground and removed said blade. Stepping forward, it lowered it’s hood. Stood before him was a female wood elf. She had long black hair that was braided and draped over her right shoulder. Her eyes were almost as piercing as the arch-demon beside her. And to Vaniir’s surprise, the demon took a step back. It spoke again and the language it used made his blood run cold again. The woman glanced at it and nodded before speaking in elvish. “Be grateful. You get to live to see another day. Leave before I have a change of heart.” Without responding, Vaniir turned tail and took off. He had only gone a few feet before a soft chuckle reached him. Glancing back, he could see the female elf holding her hand up. Her eyes had turned pure red for a moment. Fearing the worst, he ran faster and tripped. Tumbling forward, Vaniir barely saw the portal around him open then quickly close. Skidding on the ground, the male felt his hand hit something. Looking up, he saw a battered sword stuck in the ground. There was a strong urge tat welled up inside of him. An urge he couldn’t fight. So the drow reached forward and pulled the blade out of the ground. A voice echoed in his head as he held the sword in front of him. “Ahh I see I have a new servant. One so full of misfortune. Wield me and I can take that misfortune away. Use me to exact vengeance on those that took your mother from you.” Vaniir Stared at the blade, fighting to comprehend what he had just heard. Finally the male nodded. The blade then disappeared from his grip. “Just think of me and I will return to you.” With another nod, Vaniir stood up straight and began to walk
Three years had gone by since that fateful day. The male drow had learned a lot from his new sword. The first being its name; The Nightstalker. The blade soon taught him how to use magic and even revealed some spells that were a part of his bloodline. One skill he learned rather quickly was using his magical darkness to his advantage. Most beings could not see in magical darkness. Even those that thrived in the darkness were put at a severe disadvantage. Yet his patron granted him the ability to see through any darkness. Whether it was mundane or magical. While traveling, Vaniir joined a group of kindred spirits. Each of these people seemed to have their own darkness inside of them. They had traveled together for sometime before a noble family requested they go save their son from what was like a sure death. The reward was good so Vaniir agreed to do it.
HAGGLEBLUF - Chaotic Neutral Rock Gnome Wizard (Illusionist)
APPEARANCE
Hagglebluf is a plump gnome with sweeping grey locks and an impressive beard compensating for his balded crown. Aged and weathered, his appearance is not flattered by the furrowing of his brow as he regularly gazes into the Orb of Hulicorm.
For reasons unknown to him, Hagglebluf casts no shadow.
ALLIES
Could Hagglebluf be a former apprentice of Master Illusionist Tessalar Hulicorm?
ENEMIES
Hagglebluf is hunted by the Watchful Order of Magists & Protectors for a missunderstanding regarding the ownership of certain magical goods.
BACKSTORY
With a puff of purple smoke and the scent of juniper, Hagglebluf found himself released from entrapment within an illusion gone awry. A simple feat of taking the appearance of an old tome had inadvertently triggered a transmutation without means of reversal. Now free, Hagglebluf observed his surroundings. It was a store brimming with scrolls, potions and other wizarding paraphernalia. Before him stood the shocked customer who had plucked him off the shelf, thinking him to be just another tome of wizardly lore. Unequipped and... unrobed... Hagglebluf hastily attired and outfitted himself from the store's stock before taking off down the street, the enraged shouts of the shopkeep trailing behind him.
As he trotted through the streets, something heavy rumbled around in Hagglebluf's pocket. He reached inside and withdrew an orb of glistening fuchsia crystal. On one side it bore the sigil of the renowned illusionist Tessalar Hulicorm... although Hagglebluf was certain the orb hadn't been there when he "appropriated" the robe. The orb radiated with the knowing thrum of illusion magic.
A few blocks down and safe from the storekeep's ire, Hagglebluf took a moment to rest. Contemplating his predicament, he realised he had no memory of the events leading up to his imprisonment... or any of his former life. He knew of the world, but only anecdotally from what he presumed had been decades of voracious study. He recalled no practical experience of actually living in it. To make matters worse, as the shadows lengthened over the cityscape in the late afternoon sun, Hagglebluf noticed his own shadow was... missing. Padding himself down, the chalky consistency of his coat confirmed he was indeed real and not another ineptly formed illusion.
With no memory of his former life nor a shadow to accompany him, Hagglebluf set off towards a bustling tavern to ponder his next actions over a mug of spiced ale. As he walked, Hagglebluf scooped up a handful of pebbles strewn amongst the street cobblestone and tossed them into the air. With a whispered command, what appeared to be a few gold coins landed in his palm. Ale isn't free.
Celony, Triton Feylock, Entertainer Background
Celony was born in a Triton Colony that was built close to a gate to the elemental plane of water, charged with preventing monsters of the sea entry into the material world. While most Tritons enjoy fighting, Celony struggled to find much of a passion for anything. He visited the Triton equivalent of college, a place where scholars were trained, and fell in with a bunch of stereotypical student revolutionaries, because their leader was charismatic and inspiring and sharing someones strong opinion seemed almost as good as having an own. Mostly, Celony intended to become a bard and write witty songs about how the Triton Elders are silly doodooheads.
Then, however, the Nautilus society, as the wannabe-revolutionaries called themselves, caught wind of an actual goverment conspiracy: The Tritons were aiding a powerful sea beast in sinking ships as it saw fit, in return for its promise to hold back its brethren on the other side of the gate. As Celony and his friends tried to inform the public, the elders started to hunt them down, killing everyone but Celony, who, while fleeing through a kelp field, unintentionally swam right into an underwater fey crossing and into the domain of the turtle-like archfey Tortar Sith (which, according to online translators, is Irish for Fairy Turtle, I am so creative), who offered him protection, to recover from his wounds, and a new destiny.
Celony, who has since left the water for his own safety, is now, on behalf of the mysterious schemes of his patron (read: because Celony saw a tortoise, considered it a sign and followed it), part of a diplomatic delegation to establish a relationship between two kingdoms. This doesn't entirely fit right with Celony, who has developed sort of a general dislike for all authority, but he wants to see what his patron has planned for him and feeling like the hero of two kingdoms helps him in numbing his survivors guilt.
Tl;dr: Grantaire from Les Mis, but he survived and is also a fishperson that follows the command of a giant fairy turtle.
You get a wonderfull view from the point of no return.
-Terry Pratchett
still working on this one Lizardfolk Warlock (Hexblade)
Gax was born in a little lizardfolk village in jagged Tooth Swamp. He was the runt of the Litter so life was hard for him always get bullied by his whole tribe for be weaker then all other. They would always make him eat the leftover never let him feed properly. Making him sleep outside. The only one who seem to care about Gax was his mother she would try to sneak food to him from time to time to help him until his mother disappeared on his 9th year gax Gax would often have dreams about a mysterious women with the skin of a Snake but her face is always hidden under a dark hood and a snake mask this mysterious women would tell gax how he was her champion and how he need to leave this horrible place and how he was born for a great destiny. Gax thought they where just dreams. Until when he turn 13 and was out try find some food when he seen a ox run in to a cave he followed it in when he got in the cave the ox decided to charge impaling Gax in the stomach badly. With gax losing blood and about be killed an ox he heard the mysterious women voice say you musnt die here take my blade and become my champion and slay this beast and with a green spark of arcane energy and strange look blade appear in front of gax. Gax grab the blade and slashed the beast with one slash of his sword. The voice sayed now you have the power you deserve my champion. Now leave your horrible village and seek out my long lost temple. And with that the voice disappeared. Gax then heard the voice of his older brother and chief of the tribe what have you found there you runt give it over to me as his brother try to grab it it flashed with a strange green arcane flash and push his brother back 10 feet and the voice came back and told gax to run before his tribe try to use him for evil. So gax took of running with his brother screaming we will find you someday you runt and when we do we will dominate the world.
Trauma
(bullying)
Mystery
(patron)
Item
(hexblade)
Discrimination (lizardfolk)
Enemy
Old Tribe
Character cares about
mother
Helm Whitemane (My Half-Elf Paladin for Icewind Dale: Rime Of The Frostmaiden)
May contain a spoiler on the PC Secrets in Icewind Dale: Rime Of The Frostmaiden
Helm Whitemane was born on the 28th of Deepwinter 1451 DR, he lived in the Cormanthyian Reaches of Myth Drannor, surrounded by small grasslands and the thick, majestic evergreen trees of the Cormanthor Forest in central Faerun. Helm Whitemane worked with his Human Father as a Blacksmith crafting intricate Elven Weapons and the best you'll find west of Sea Of Fallen Stars. Helm's mother, however, died just after the birth of him, Helm can barely remember his mother and Helm's father never speaks about his her or anybody else on that side of the family. As a youth Helm didn't question his future as a Blacksmith, he enjoyed the simplicity of his life away from the troubles of the world and found that Blacksmithing was an addition to this simplicity. Every week he and his father would take a journey north to a Wayshrine Of Lathander as it was his father's family tradition. Helm, as a boy, would play with wooden sticks and believe he was slaying invisible Trolls, riding mystical Dragons and when he would read the Stories of Lathander he couldn't help but think about a life other than helping around the forge, a life of Honor, Courage and Sacrifice however Helm would dare not speak of this to his proud father.
By 1478 DR, Helm was still living with his loving father and he would often help around his forge, by now Helm was an Artisan of crafting weapons and armours, learning all his father's skills and advice to craft excellent weapons and forge the toughest of armours. Tensions began to rise amongst Sembia and The Dalelands, Myth Drannor knew that if the two went to war then somehow they would be pulled into it. When war broke out Myth Drannor sent forces to assist the struggling armies of the Dalesfolk and so supply for weapons and armour were in high demand and Helm's Father and himself worked doubly as hard to help Myth Drannor on their campaign. Word got around that the Netherese Empire planned to manipulate Myth Drannor's Mythral and plan a full-scale invasion of Myth Drannor.
As soon as this word got out Helm and his father had to flee Myth Drannor as it was a too higher risk to stay and defend Myth Drannor. With nowhere to go, since returning to Myth Drannor would be too risky. They journeyed to a town called Harrowdale nearby Myth Drannor which allowed Helm and his father to stay in a closeby inn. Eventually, they heard the news that Shade had failed in their attempts to invade Myth Drannor but collided with Myth Drannor leaving it in ruins. With hundreds of refugees from the ruined city flowing to Harrowdale for captivity Helm and his father had to move on. Helm's father thought it would be best to head to his brother's farm in the small town of Ironspur in the region of Damara and live there for the time being. They travelled through the White Pass and soon arrived in the Damarian capital of Helgabal where they heard of the death of Gareth Dragonsbane and the coronation of Yarin Frostmantle, Yarin Frostmantle ruled as a selfish tyrant and he vanquished any attempt of being overthrown.
They travelled North of Helgabal praying for protection at any Wayshrines of Lathander they found along the way, they arrived at Ironspur and met Bjorn Whitemane, Helm's father's brother. Bjorn welcomed his brother and Helm with open arms and eventually, Helm's father set up a forge and continued to work as a Blacksmith for the town of Ironspur. Helm's father was very curious of the native Bloodstone ore mined by the local dwarves and he began to use this rare ore, crafting ingots out of it and then forging weapons with the ingots. In 1492 DR on the 15th of Uktar, preparations for the Feast Of The Moon started and people were sharing stories and enjoying the time they had before Winter struck. Rumours were spreading however of a Young Red Dragon being sighted in the Galena Mountains and that a group of Adventurers were being sent up to deal with the problem and also acquire a large sum of gold if they defeated it. The next day while Helm was working with his father crafting a brand new Suit of Plate Armor a loud, thunderous roar came from the Galena Mountains and Helm and his father saw a large figure fly out from the mountains in a bloodthirsty rage. Helm froze in fear for a second and his father yelled at Helm to hide. Helm, as much as he wanted to defend his town, listened to his father's wishes and took a Longsword and Shield from his father's armoury, donned a suit of Half Plate that they were recently working on and took Bjorn's horse. He rode to the gate of Ironspur and turned around to see the town.
The Dragon neared Ironspur in its bloodthirsty rage, his speed was unquestionable and was already on top of the town before anybody could react. Citizens from the town were running around trying to find a place to hide and the local militia was throwing spears and shooting arrows at the Dragon but its scales were so tough no arrow could pierce it. The Dragon lets loose a wrath of destruction on the town, each house was lit ablaze in fire and entire shops were demolished from the ferocity of the attack. People who were close friends with Helm and nearly everyone he knew were critically injured or already dead. Helm was at the gates of the town, he battled through the fear that was trying to overwhelm him, jumped off his horse and walked towards the monstrous beast. The Dragon laughed and landed on the ground to face the Half-Elf, Helm faced the Dragon with a look of Determination and Vengence. Helm pulled out his Sword and Shield and the Dragon let out the fiery, intense flames of its breath but Helm put his shield in the way, the flames in no way, shape or form was going to stop his determination to slay the creature. Resisting the flames Helm Whitemane continued walking towards the Dragon and by the time Helm was in arms reach of the Dragon its Breath Weapon ran out, Helm smirked at the Dragon and swung his Sword at the Dragon's face, the Dragon roared as the damaging blow slashes it across the face. Helm keeps delivering massive hits to the large beast, the Dragon realises the strength of this Half-Elf and attempts to retreat and fly away. As the Dragon takes off Helm jumps onto its back, the Dragon flys 30 feet into the air and Helm continues to slash at its head, the Dragon roars in an agonizing nature and it can't take any more attacks. It crashes down and collides with the ground, Helm had slain the Dragon. Some believe that Lathander gave Helm the strength and courage that day but deep down Helm always knew he was always meant to be a fighter. Helm quickly searched the burning town for survivors, barely 100 made it our alive, all of them injured.
As Helm was helping other survivors he saw his father fall to the ground stumbling from outside a shop, Helm rushed over to his father. Helm's father was grievously injured and he knew he was going to die, Helm's father uttered these quite words to Helm;
"Son, I have hidden something from you for a very long time" He coughs and then barely continues,
"You are heir to the Neverwinter Throne, your mother, Navarra Alagondar died at your birth and abandoned you during The Ruining of Neverwinter, I found you when I was travelling in the area, you are the lost heir to the throne!" Just before he died he said to Helm,
"Tell no one, nobody can know this secret or you will be killed. Flee to Icewind Dale! Nobody will know of your secret there! Find refuge in one of the Ten-Towns and stay there until you feel the time is right." he hands Helm his most prized possession, his Dragon Slayer Greatsword and then dies.
Holding back tears Helm takes the Sword and flees from the town before anybody notices him leaving and starts his long Journey to Icewind Dale...
REMEMBER: Wizards Of The Coast does not own DDB, they are two different companies. When you buy a physical book, WotC receives the money you bought it for, not DDB and vice versa. If you want a digital key to get an online book for free because you have the hardcopy book then DDB makes no money because you don't buy off DDB you buy off WotC, so please stop making threads about this issue. DDB needs money to continue helping people and servers aren't cheap.
I've just set up a new fire genasi blood hunter, called Ignis Firestorm, here's her back story:
On the eve I was to be wed, dark monsters came down upon my village and consumed the souls of six of our best fighters, and six of our childer. One of those fighters was my promised beloved, Zallus, and one of those childer was my young brother, Atticus. They became demonic and at first we fled. They hunted us though and many more of us died before we began fighting back. I saw my dear brother killed and collapsed at the feet of my beloved. With his flaming axe held high he brought it down upon me. His once fiery eyes burned no more. There was nothing but darkness. Zallus was no more. As I stared into the abyss I knew what I had to do and I thrust my sword through his heart, forever darkening my own. Stained with the blood of our loved ones, the few of us that survived rallied together. Legend has it that once you have stared into the heart of darkness your bloodline will be damned forever more. Haunted by our demons, we swore a blood oath to never return to cursed land and to dedicate our lives to atonement. We trained in the dark magic that ruined us and grew in strength. Now our alliance purges the kingdom of dark monsters. We fight to avenge the souls of our loves ones and to protect the innocent. Driven by our nightmares, we hope by saving others from their damnation our souls may yet be redeemed.
Members of the Alliance of the Black Skull rarely fight together and prefer to hunt independently, but have been known to band together to bring down stronger demons. They know they have a reliable network of allies to call upon in times of need. The Alliance is headed by my elderly father, Grand Hunter Xarafear Firestorm. My mother, Gloriana Firestorm, was killed in combat by my possessed brother, who was in turn killed by my tearful father.
I also have a pseudodragon familiar called Dracarys (original, I know, but give me a break coming up with names is hard), who is playful but shy and has a costly habit of swallowing gold pieces. I rescued him in the wild after his mother abandoned him, he reminded me of myself and we have now formed a strong bond.
you are totally right about that!!
"If you ever ask a wizard to list the books they've read recently, prepare to be there for a solid week. " - Original.
Grammar Cult
Bow down to Cats! (Cult of Cats)
beautiful backstory! I like how you shaped the story.
"If you ever ask a wizard to list the books they've read recently, prepare to be there for a solid week. " - Original.
Grammar Cult
Bow down to Cats! (Cult of Cats)
Amazing!!!
"If you ever ask a wizard to list the books they've read recently, prepare to be there for a solid week. " - Original.
Grammar Cult
Bow down to Cats! (Cult of Cats)
Thanks! 😁 This is my first time building my own character by myself! I'm also building a pseudodragon monster homebrew which will act as my familiar
Zorubaash "Goremash" Forgeborn, the Lost Warchief:
Zorubaash was born to the Bloodfist tribe of the mountain orcs through a breeding program started by his former War Chief, Gruuk. Despite the counsel of the shamans and elders, Gruuk desired power over all, and so he sought to create smarter, faster, more cunning orcs...and, ultimately, more cruel ones. What he got was a Half-Orc who defied his mad hunger and sought the ways of the shamans, leading his brood to become the strongest, first generation of half-orcs in the Bloodfist tribe. A towering, stone gray halfbreed, with sable black hair and the red eyes of a berserker, Zorubaash eventually found his affinity for the spirits on a long hunt that nearly cost him his life. Though lone hunting had been banned by the War Chief, preferring to send his warriors to raid lowland villages and claim “prizes” for chief and tribe, Zorubaash preferred the old ways, the ways of the hunt and the ancient spirits. Upon his return, dragging the corpse of the Dire Wolf that had nearly killed him, Zorubaash was met by the head shaman, who handed him a “seeking” bag, broke his tribal bone-blade, and set him on the path of the wanderer, to seek the spirits and bring their wisdom back to the tribe. From that day onward, he was no longer marked by the red eyes of the berserker. Instead, his eyes became like that of the Bear, a deep amber, that pierced the darkness and sought hidden paths.
Separated from his people, he adopted the common-tongue version of his name, "Goremash", and kept his tribal affiliation hidden. The head shaman had advised caution and cunning when approaching the lowland peoples, as they now knew the Bloodfist tribe to be nothing but bloodthirsty raiders. He grew accustomed to the name, as he grew in strength and wisdom, meeting many he would call “friends”. Together, they saved the town of Venzor and became heroes, by breaking a Yuanti snake cult, slaying their demigod, and thwarting the machinations of a vile, Drow warlock, Syrdar. However, it wasn't enough for Zorubaash, now “Gore” to his friends, as he still longed to return to his people.
He formed a home and a family of sorts there, among the people of Venzor and his companions, the Band of the Noble Rat. He even took an elven lover, and seemed, for the most part, content. Eventually, he came upon a broken and shamed tribe of wandering, Orc barbarians and smiths, called the Forgeborn. He broke their Shame, reclaimed their Pride, and eventually reunited the tribe, claiming them as his own. Along the way, the Band of the Noble Rat were ambushed by demonic minions of Syrdar and cast into a Dracolich’s extra-dimensional dungeon, as offerings to grant Syrdar with lichdom. The plan failed, as Gore and his allies slew the Dracolich and returned to Venzor and the Forgeborn, with the creature’s skull in tow. Things were good, for a time, but it still wasn't enough. Even with his wives, his own tribe, and their soon-to-be-born children, he still yearned to see his original tribe, again.
The spirits showed him troubling visions of his people's corruption at the hands of their mad chieftain, a dark wizard, and even the Orc Mother, herself. Zorubaash sent scouts to find any surviving members of his tribe, untainted by dark magic and demons. His scouts returned with two. His sword brother and former rival, Ronaag, had been mangled and marked by Syrdar’s dark magic for speaking out against Gruuk the Bloody. Raashazur was mostly unharmed, but she had also been branded by Syrdar’s blood magic. Zorubaash went on a quest to find a cure for his surviving kin, but was captured and used as a ritual sacrifice to remove his soul and fill his mighty body with that of a demon, in order to fulfill the plans of Syrdar and his dark patron. Drifting in the void between worlds, he was found by a forgotten deity, Laylem, the Lady of the Lost, who had herself been guided by their mutual friend, Okumo, the Great Bear Spirit. She granted Zorubaash a chance to save them all, with the last of her power, casting his soul across the Star Sea, into new worlds and dangers, to find what has been lost.
Reborn in another body, in another world, Zorubaash now seeks power beyond the gods themselves. He has met with some interesting people and still others he would call “friends”, but he is determined to return to his home and to his people. He is a world-walker, guided by Okumo and empowered by the Pride of his people, the Forgeborn. He is charged by Laylem to find a way home and to shatter the shackles of fate that fetters their shared world. He is Zorubaash Forgeborn, Cursebreaker, the Unbound Blade...the Lost Warchief.
Put your spoiler here.
This was a character I created a few years ago. He's one of my longest running characters (ran for a solid year straight of weekly sessions and keeps getting "resurrected" in other, amiable campaigns). I've got chapters of his side adventures/stories on AOO. Chronicling his adventures has become a hobby of its own. ^_^
The Foxmore family, a proud and respected family within New Teris, follows the guidance of the Platinum Dragon Bahamut and has had a member of the family serve in the military every generation. Every first born child in the Foxmore line has been born an Aasimar and becomes next in line to become a cleric of Bahamut and head of the family.
Distinguished with a glowing gold symbol on their forehead, they are renowned for their cunning and battle prowess and have to complete the family tradition of "Triail an tsolais" or trial of light, upon becoming 21.
Sheiva was born a twin and inherited her family's legacy as an Aasimar, but her brother Azdaja was simply born human and growing up resenting Tiamat's powers that he believed should have been his. Growing up in a martial family and raised under their father Eramil's strict guidance, they both became warriors in their own right and upon their 21st birthday, they were sent on their separate paths, Sheiva venturing on her path of light trial into the great beyond and Azdaja joining the millitary.
During the year that followed, Sheiva has been helping villages with healing magic and dispatching pests or animals causing issues, when she receives word from her mother Merilwen, saying that Azdaja had deserted the line of duty, but in order to save the family's honor they have decreed official word that he died in battle. Sheiva, furious at her brother's actions and shame that he brought to her family now is tracking her brother down to get some answers and put an end to his transgressions, one way or another.
Short idea for a backstory I came up with for a noble Aasimar cleric :)
Hi I need some help with my very first character I am not very good at making backstories I will be playing as a yuan ti pureblood bladesinger his alignment will be lawful neutral I am thinking of going with exile noble a outcast among his own people but I am trying to work out the reasons why he is a bladesinger in the first place which is what I am having a hard time with any help would be gratefully appreciated :)
@TheInfinitySock - Typically, Bladesingers are exclusively elven. So this leads to three possibilities: either A) you were adopted by elves at a very very young age and raised by elves as an elf, or B) you performed a service for an elven community of such immense importance that they granted you permission to learn their secrets, or C) your yuan-ti community had a fighting style very similar to Bladesong, and so you'll be using the game mechanics of Bladesong because it's simpler than transposing all those rules into a new yuan-ti subclass that is essentially the same thing by a different name. (C) is probably the most likely scenario.
So... yuan-ti are usually devious and cunning demon worshipers whose status in their society is based on two factors: their subrace (pureblood/malison/abomination) which never changes, and their standing with the temple of Sseth, which can change quite often. Being a pureblood means you started at the bottom of society. If you belonged to a noble house, you were probably employed to infiltrate and spy upon civilized communities, to earn their trust and learn their secrets, to make it easier for your people to attack and subjugate them
So maybe you didn't like being at the bottom of the heap. Who would? So you constantly strove to prove yourself worthy of Sseth's favor. Which would mean you were a most clever and deceitful spy, and performed your duties so well that you earned not just the notice of the temple, but their favor as well, and thus you were given an opportunity rarely bestowed upon one of such lowly birth - the chance to learn [insert whatever the word is that yuan-ti use to describe the subclass that elves call Bladesong].
But this would mean that you are not just evil, but Evil Incarnate! So... if you want to play the character as lawful neutral... here's a better idea...
As a pureblood you look nearly human, so you were employed as a spy to learn all the secrets of those disgusting and smelly human creatures so that your tribe could more easily destroy them. BUT! You spent so much time around humans (and elves and half-elves) that you began to realize that humans and elves weren't really the evil treacherous smelly disgusting creatures that you had been told they were. In fact, they had many admirable traits. So you began to have an identity crisis. You began to feel guilty for all the evil things you had done to humans and elves. Basically - you defected. You divulged all your secrets to the leaders of a human or maybe an elven community, and you warned them of the impending attack from the yuan-ti. With your help, they were able to repel the attack. Of course, this made you a traitor and a pariah among your own people. Every yuan-ti temple probably has WANTED posters with your face on them and a reward for your murder. But! The elven or elven+human community that you helped to save was very grateful for your help. So they began to train you in their Bladesinger fighting style, so that you'll be able to defend yourself against whatever assassins the yuan-ti inevitably send after you.
So now you're a lawful neutral yuan-ti pureblood Bladesinger, traveling the lands defending the common folk from whatever nasty evils are out there. And all the while, you're constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if tonight is the night that the assassins catch up with you.
As Lucius Fox would say.... "Good luck!"
Tayn of Darkwood. Lvl 10 human Life Cleric of Lathander. Retired.
Ikram Sahir ibn Malik al-Sayyid Ra'ad, Second Son of the House of Ra'ad, Defender of the Burning Sands. Lvl 9 Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer + Greater Fire Elemental Devil.
Viktor Gavriil. Lvl 20 White Dragonborn Grave Cleric, of Kurgan the God of Death.
Anzio Faro. Lvl 5 Prot. Aasimar Light Cleric.
Thanks for the help this is what I was looking for many thanks :)