Interesting character concept! Maybe elaborate on how Abel became a Swarmkeeper a little more because I definitely want to know more about this character.
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I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
Abel was once a prince of a distant land. Until one day, the land was ravaged by numerous monsters, Abel's father and mother were soon defeated by the monsters, but not after Abel's father told him to flee and to escape. Abel eventually stayed in the wilderness, finding more comfort in the forests then in his previous home. He lived off of the land, and eventually discarded his royal heritage, to see how people would treat him, and so he wouldn't get targeted by anyone looking for his royal bloodline. He trusts animals more than people, and would usually go out of his way to befriend any creature, but he still doesn't have any objection with hunting, or eating meat. He also seemed to have an affinity with the bugs that lived there, as a kid, he would always sneak some bugs into his castle, but his family would always shoo them away. Now that he lives in the wilderness, his fondness grew for the bugs, as he eventually became a Swarmkeeper. He would let them crawl on him, and wouldn't be bothered in the slightest. He still goes into the nearby village, and he is usually met with odd looks and rumors. As the creatures he was friends with would come along with him. They gave him names, such as the "Wild One" for his lack of etiquette, and lack of emotional control, others called him the "Living Dead" as he generally let the bugs crawl on him, such as what would happen to a corpse. Abel didn't mind, he wanted people to be honest with him, and looks for trouble and adventure wherever it can be found.
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Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Born on 12 Tarsahk (The Claw of Storms) 1473 (The Year of the Heretic's Rampage), Ettse'El's family have been in Secomber for five generations, her clan having been led there by their ancestors from Port Nyanzaru. After years traveling the Sword Coast the clan made the unusual decision, for Tabaxi, to settle down and make roots in the community. Naturally, many of the clan felt wanderlust overcome them, but for the rest the hunting grounds along the banks of the Delimbiyr River have become familiar territory. Some of those who left have even returned there in their retiring years.
Her parents were delighted when she was accepted as a five year old to the Hin Fist monastery located atop the escarpment of the High Moor, under the tutelage of Strongheart Halfing Master Hado Ginsi. They would visit her twice a year, and she has always been assured of their devotion.
She has excelled in the martial training she has received, but has also taken advantage of the monastery's library and learned elders to educate herself in the ways of the world. It was during the course of these studies that she became a follower of Oghma, the God of Knowledge. She adopted the dogma of Oghma as her guiding principles: "An idea has no heft but it can move mountains. An idea has no authority but it can dominate people. An idea has no strength but it can push aside empires. Knowledge is the greatest too of the mortal mind, outweighing anything made by mortal hands. Before anything else can exist, the idea must exist."
Knowledge, particularly the raw knowledge of ideas, is supreme. An idea has no weight, but it can move mountains. The greatest gift of humankind, an idea outweighs anything made by mortal hands. Knowledge is power and must be used with care, but hiding it away from others is never a good thing. Stifle no new ideas, no matter how false and crazed they seem; rather, let them be heard and considered. Never slay a singer, nor stand by as others do. Spread knowledge wherever it is prudent to do so. Curb and deny falsehoods, rumour, and deceitful tales whenever you encounter them. Write or copy lore of great value at least once a year and give it away. Sponsor and teach bards, scribes and record keepers. Spread truth and knowledge so that all folk know more. Never deliver a message falsely or incompletely. Teach reading and writing to those who ask (if your time permits), and charge no fee for the teaching.
She eventually made the difficult decision to leave the monastery in order to pursue her desire to experience all she has read of, in particular arcane magic which she finds fascinating. She spent long days and nights reading all she could of the Weave and Mystra, learning what she could without the dedicated instruction of an arcane mistress.
The world, however, has proven quite daunting. Nothing in her reading prepared her for the throng of society, the scrutiny of ill-wishers. So she has skirted around larger settlements, finding more comfort in villages and completely circumnavigating the hinterland of Waterdeep rather than face the city. She offered basic self-defence training and for children and taught them to read and write and thereby made just enough to eke out a meagre lifestyle.
Race: born a Human. Technically the Fey version of a Tiefling
Background: to be defined
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Warlock (Archfey patron)
A long time ago, the Feys of the Court of Herons won a great battle in the place that would eventually be known as Lamaswell Valley by the lesser races. So important was the victory that the Court decreed that every few centuries they would intersect their realm with the material plane in that very place, for a day and a night of wild celebrations.
When the time for the latest intersection came, the Feys realized that, in the short (for them) time since the last celebration, the valley has been colonized and a thriving human town stood next to their altars.
Outraged by such an affront, the Lords of the Court demanded a price from the mortals to have their forgiveness: on the day of the celebration they animated every image reflected in the city. From dawn to dusk, these living reflexes kidnapped every child from three to six years, dragging them into the reflective surfaces. Those being a mirror, a puddle, or the shiny armor of a guard, it didn't matter: all of them were made portals by the magic of the Archfeys. Amma was one of them, even if he had a different name and shape then.
The children woke on a sombre grassland sprinkled with mirrors of dark water, with their new masters looming silent over them. They were to be distributed among the members of the court, to be used as the fey pleased.
Amma was gifted to Lady Ulvara, and from that point onwards his memories become sketchy.
He remembers long hours spent reminiscing about home with Dasia and Joie, fellow citizens never met before, but now more than siblings.
He remembers floating in a pond, held by his Lady as rain fell upward, with several skeletal forms watching from the from the shores.
He remembers seeing a speck of light floating out of his body and into Lady Ulvara's hand, who replaced it with something different.
He remembers participating in many games under the gaze of the Herons, against spirits but most often against other kidnapped mortals, but not in the way a human could easily understand: actual fights were as common as races to find the most beautiful flower, or competition on the most vigorous love making.
He remembers his body changing, his features becoming sharper, his eyes slanted, his ears pointed. Lady Ulvara taught him to summon Eldritch energy.
One day the Lady told Amma and Dasia, Joie was now long lost, about a great work she has been toiling on, and their place in it. After long (years?) preparations Lady Ulvara unleashed a coup that made her the High Heart in the Court of Herons. As thanks, the High Heart allowed her servants to return in the material plane with her blessing and retaining the powers she already bestowed them.
The second you said seems more fitting. I'd use the rules of the Tiefling for a character human by birth but phisically modified by the Archfey to have physical features more similar to an elf.
Tradition runs deep within the lineage of Ruva Günhild of the Overmountain Frusen Glädjé Clan. While some female dwarves are beardless, her family has been gifted with the honor of having bearded women as well as the males. She takes great pride in her family name and it shows in the grooming and presentation of her beard. She always makes sure to wear the proper braids and adornments on the high holy days and traditional ceremonies of the clan. Her House has always followed the ways of Haela Brightaxe, The Lady of the Fray and it is the tradition to become part of her clergy known as Kaxanar (translated Bloodmaiden). Growing up she was the only daughter with three brothers. Her stern but loving father continuously tested the mettle of his only daughter to grow up to be the finest Kaxanar. He made it a point to sign her up in the best Gladiator swordschool as a young lass when she became of age to train to be a Bloodmaiden of the clan. Mother was always sure to remind her of her House responsibilities, respect the tenets of Haela Brightaxe and to keep the Günhild name alive through grandchildren. She was always on the lookout for one to wed her daughter, but few were found to be interested. Most of the boys were in fact frightened of her instead.
While Ruva grew to being a warrior of honor and tradition, she always longed for love and a meaningful relationship. Since most dwarves look alike and to avoid confusion she came out as “openly female” within the clan. But none would have her except for Alestain Crumbeard who since childhood made several advances to her dismay! One day after avoiding him by swiping left (with her axe), she vowed to herself to one day leave the clan in search of a handsome prince to put a ring on it (her beard, that is).
It was not long after this day that the clan had suffered a devastating crisis of faith in the news that their god, Haela Brightaxe, had been killed in an epic battle against the duergar god, Laduguer. When the clerics prayed to her, it was their divination silence that confirmed the dire news. Shortly after the funeral rites and the Great Time of Mourning, rumors of signs of Haela’s presence had been seen during battle within one of her temples and another in the morning sun. Was all not lost? Was there a way to bring back The Luckmaiden herself? The remaining Kaxanar of the clan set out to quest for any information in the return of Haela Brightaxe and to rekindle her life-fire. Ruva said goodbye to her family hoping to return soon for this was to be a quest for Haela and to find the spark of love to ease her raging heart.
On her quest, she thought to put a personal ad on the event board of the town she was passing through. Being shy and not proficient in relationships, she penned this ad.
Hot blooded traditional tribal girl seeks her Prince Charming
Looking for a guy with big strong hands because I am a bit of a handfull! It’s a plus if you like to laugh and enjoy quiet time! No barbarians or ragers!
You be hearty and ready to party or young, dumb and full of rum.
Must like hirsute honeys and Great Weapon masters are welcome.
I’m a traditional girl that is a natural redhead, 145 years old, 4’ 8, 22” beard, stout, thick in all the right places and is at home step dancing on tables!
Likes: Long walks through the Underdark, braiding each others beards and arm wrestling.
While pinning it to the board she had noticed a posting that there was a thing called Speed Dating at the local tavern tonight! This would be a good chance to meet others with the same interests and desires!
Appearance:She normally wears little clothing, a leather bustier, skirt and boots to show her bravery in combat. In times of battle and war, it is not uncommon for a Bloodmaiden to wear nothing but tribal warpaint or blood on their naked body to unsettle their opponent.
She has long red hair, freckles, face tattoos, piercings, and a partially shaved head with the dwarven fade pattern of her clan in her hair.
She takes great pride in her beard which is red like her hair, braided, well kept and well groomed with beard oils and perfumes. It contains beads, rings and bands of iron symbolizing her house, clan and station. Currently, she wears a Braid of Courtship to show her search for a mate.Her forearms have tribal geometric scarification patterns that were ritually carved there upon her initiation into the Order of Bloodmaidens.
Additional Overmountain Frusen GlädjéClan and Günhild Tribe info:
Within the clan, the beard, in its many forms, can express the identity of its wearer concerning kinship, status, age, religion, and ethnicity. But it can also symbolize heritage, identity, station or ceremonial dress. Some of the traditional Beardstyles are Braids of Courtship (worn occasionally by Ruva in dwarven lands), Strength, Battle, Life, and Death to name a few. Some within her clan can braid secret messages within the complicated braids to send a message, where each knot can signify a letter to deliver a hidden message within the beard, to the ones who can decipher it, even after death.
To the Frusen Glädjé clan, the beard is an extension of your spirit which connects you to the earth. It’s downward growth brings you closer to the clan ancestors buried within its embrace. The longer the beard, the wiser and closer you are to it’s ancestors. The tradition of giving a lock of beard hair to a loved one, is considered a great token of affection and love. In fact, because hair does not decompose, it was cherished as a symbol of eternal life…a reminder of mortality and immortality.
Kaxanar sometimes adorn their bodies with the blessed blood of their own or of their enemies before, during and after battle. Sometimes if time allows, a ritualistic ceremony of painting binds the Bloodmaiden, body, mind and soul to her enemy. Afterwards, win or lose, a ceremony of cleansing or washing off the blood symbolizing the peace or finality of the outcome. Such is done in times of war and with battles of great importance.
Nadir, a human Rogue Soulknife. Haunted One background, because, well, you'll see.
Nadir knows not his real name. He knows not his age, the town of his birth, or even if his family is still alive. Or who his family is.
His first tangible memory – there are many clouded thoughts and short visions of a time before, and the occasional name that he dreams of – was of riding in a wagon, amongst other travelers. He was just a lone passenger, having paid for transport from a trio of gypsies. It was during the night meal, maybe one day's walk from the next town, when a strange shriek came from out of the dark forest. He felt a sharp chill inside his head, and then he could somehow hear the old woman’s thoughts… and from his right hand, an ichor black dagger manifested… with faint green edges. All three of his companions were startled, moreso by him, than whatever beast had screeched moments ago. This strange black appendage faded within seconds.
The elderly woman yelled “Nadir! Nadir!” at him pointing, and making odd gestures. The younger man comforted her, while the younger woman fled to the wagon. They removed his bag from the wagon, and quickly left him behind, with only the fire for company. As they faded away, he could see the old crone’s eyes on him, and hear her whispering “Nadir” over and over.
He spent the night fitfully afraid – both of strange creatures that might be stalking him, and by the strange manifestation the he had no earthly idea how to suppress, or maybe control. He walked into the town the next day, but never saw that cart.
He thought Nadir might be his name, so he just referred to himself as Nadir. Sometimes, people would snicker at him when he said the name. It was well over a year when he learned that “nadir” was the word for “dark abomination” in those traveler's tongue. Mostly, people felt sorry for him, for the emptiness in his eyes. They felt that he had faced horrors before, and maybe was not better for having survived.
Having few skills, but being nimble-fingered and quick to learn, he fell in with some ruffians and cultists, who seemed to pity him, and could appreciate his ability to either cause a needed distraction, or his ability to move so quickly and seem to vanish from sight, without a trace. It was almost as if he knew where his pursuers were going to go, and he simply went the other way.
Practice allowed him to hone his skills, and master the “shadow blades” that he could sometimes conjure. What he couldn’t control was the nightmares… the visions and voices that only he could sense. These supernatural apparitions would sometimes be demons or faces appearing in the wall, or a frosted windowpane, or in the fire. On occasion, the entire world seemed to be… wrong. Everything was cast in black and white – more black than white – and no color, except for the faded tones of himself. There are also weird colored lights… faint mists that skitter about the countryside, or glowing orbs that fall from the sky.
And the voices… those were the worst, because they would echo in his head for months afterward. Names he had no face for, places he had no knowledge of being in, and strange phrases that filled him with dread.
First off, awesome backstory. Very well-written. Secondly, is the Shadowknife a Hexblade flavor or a Homebrew of yours?
I meant to say Soulknife, sorry. Unearthed Arcana build that I think was "deactivated," but since I built this guy while it was active, I'm grandfathered in. Here's the details -
First off, awesome backstory. Very well-written. Secondly, is the Shadowknife a Hexblade flavor or a Homebrew of yours?
I meant to say Soulknife, sorry. Unearthed Arcana build that I think was "deactivated," but since I built this guy while it was active, I'm grandfathered in. Here's the details -
Carric was born a twin to a small family in a small village. His family always maintained close ties to Titania, the Summer Queen of the Feywild, who gave the Dalanthans the power to defend themselves. Carric lived with them for over a hundred years, well into the early decades of his adult life.
When Carric was 190, his parents sent him and his sister, Lia, on a quest to the Feywild, as they themselves had done when they were 190. Lia and Carric went to the Feywild to seek out court with the Summer Queen. Upon arriving at her court, Lia and Carric were brought directly to Titania, who took immediate interest in them. Titania urged Lia and Carric to stay a while, and to enjoy the pleasantries of the Summer Court.
After sixty years in the Summer Court, Carric was called before Titania to go on a quest. Titania wanted Carric to return to the material plane, and seek out a shadar-kai mercenary named Afyn. Titania insisted that Afyn was an enemy of the Summer Court, and needed to be eliminated. Carric agreed, and left the Summer Court to seek out Afyn. Upon returning to the material plane, Carric went straight home, where he found his parents’ graves. Carric met with one of the other villagers, who revealed that a mercenary company came through and killed many people in the village, including Carric’s parents. The villager called the mercenary company “Shadow’s Fist” and said that it was led by a mysterious sorcerer who seemed to live within the shadows themselves.
Carric set out to find the Shadow’s Fist, and ended up doing just that in a nearby town. He discovered that Shadow’s Fist was led by Afyn, the very same shadar-kai Carric had been sent to kill. Deciding that the best way to kill Afyn was to join with the Shadow’s Fist, and work his way up to being Afyn’s right hand man, so he could kill Afyn himself. For the next seventy years, Carric did just that, and worked his way through the ranks of the Shadow’s Fist. Eventually, he became an integral part of Afyn’s inner circle. As soon as he was in Afyn’s inner circle, Carric went for the kill. Afyn led the Shadow’s Fist through the forest containing the village of Carric’s childhood one day, and during a break to eat, Carric attacked Afyn. The two dueled for a moment, before Afyn overpowered Carric, beating him. Afyn, knowing that Carric’s parents were buried in the nearby eladrin village, brought Carric to his parents’ grave, and left him for dead there.
Carric was found by a kind cleric from the village named Adrie Qualanthri, who brought Carric back from the brink of death. Once Carric was nursed back to health, Adrie helped Carric return to the Feywild, so he could inform Titania of his progress. Upon returning to the Feywild, Carric discovered that Titania already knew that Carric had failed to kill Afyn, and was upset that her prized pupil was not powerful enought to kill Afyn. Titania knew that Carric returning was a sign of surrender. Unable to allow her eladrin champion to surrender, she came up with a plan to motivate him. When Carric arrived at the Summer Court, Titania ordered Lia to kill him. Knowing Lia would not give up the magic Titania had given her, and not wanting to force his sister to kill him, Carric ran.
And Carric is still running. He hopes one day that he can kill Afyn, so that he may return to Titania, and so Lia is not forced to kill him.
Covian Sura (Rygat Jeskgix) Draconic for "Chaos Fangclaw"
Race: Black Dragonborn
Background: Folk Hero
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Bard (College Of Creation)
Rygat Jeskgix was Black Dragonborn, and a soldier fighting for a troop of Dragonborns who wanted dominion over the land with an iron fist. Rygat was bred to be the most powerful and deadly Dragonborn in the squadron, which would surely achieve conquest. However, one of Rygat's missions changed everything. He was tasked with destroying a nearby village, it was a simple task. When Rygat came to the village however, he was expecting an attack, but it never came. The village was known as a peaceful village, one without a need for destruction. They fed him after his long journey, they gave him tips on mountains, and the nearby land, and they even let him stay at their humble little village. This changed Rygat, he never experienced people being nice to him, and even liked being a nice person. So he left his troop, and hung up his weapons and his armor, and picked up a small Lyre, and began to play. He awakened his Bardic powers there, and learned at the College of Creation, channeling his destructive tendencies into notes of happiness and freedom. In order to protect the village he stays at, he changed his name, Rygat Jeskgic was no more, now lived Covian Sura. He was a charming fellow, one who wouldn't be seen as a deadly warrior in the past. He toys with his enemies, plays and dances around them, while delivering deadly blows with his Rapier, if he fought now however... He always had a fear however, he feared that his past would catch up with him, and his village would be caught in the middle of him, and a huge problem...
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Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Class: Paladin (Oath Of Devotion)/Fighter (Samurai)
Duriment was a knight for a legendary land known as "Grand Haven." Grand Haven was known as a legendary myth, it was a myth of a holy city, one of prosperous technology, as Warforged and other machines, technology on par with the land of Eberron. Duriment was a servant of the God Tyr, dedication his life to upholding the secrecy, and protection of this holy city. He was also very keen in skills of magic and swordplay, he was given the title of "Blaster Blade," as his skills with a blade, and skill with magic led him to blast and cut through his enemies, and were unmatched. One day, the lord of Grand Haven told him to venture out into the land, in order to preserve the secrecy of Grand Haven, and to defend the surrounding lands from all manners of evil. He held his promise to the king with a solemn oath, and would give his life for the greater good. He is stern and a genuinely nice person, but his taciturn demeanor would lead many to fear him, but he doesn't hold it against the people, as he quest is a lonesome one. Duriment aims to finish his quest, so the land can be at peace.
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Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Class: Cleric-Arcane going to multi into Chronugy Magic Wizard
Alignment: NG
Appearance: Short shaggy brown hair with a reseeding hairline on the corners of his forehead. His eyes are a bright iridescent blue, but the left one wanders up and to the left. He stands 5'9 and is scrawny, but holds himself with good balance and purpose. He wears leather armor, wielding a shield , and has an fairly good condition mace at his side with a book in water tightly bound leather. The symbol on his shield matches that of his amulet, both that of his goddess Rodansica. Oh his back sits a backpack with a light crossbow hanging within reach.
Backstory: Born into a family of odd magicians, Lemont was always surrounded by all types of magic and casters. He was in love with magic in general. All things arcane drew him like a moth to a light spell. He did all he could to study the very nature of magic. Eventually and inevitably, he began to worship Rodansica (The campaign's goddess of magic and lore). Secretly, he loved the goddess with all his heart, so he became a cleric of her order with intent to get as close as he can to her and the world of magic. He studied and trained in combat hard, knowing he would have to face danger out in the world. Some days he would do so until complete exhaustion. On his 22nd birthday he had trained like this and then partied with his family. Full of love, cheer, and accomplishment from training and studying so hard that day, he fell into a deep slumber. In this dream time was fluid. He could see how the weave danced and whirled within time itself. He felt so inspired and elated! A beautiful voice filled his soul, a tender and loving woman's voice. "I know you lemont Harple" She said, every word filling him and causing what he felt would be his heart to swell with tranquility and love. "You're role is not in my cericship, but in discovery. I Task you my dear Lemont, with adventure and creation. Go this teenday to Simid and find allies to help you in this. After being back 200 years I think I may have found some hope"
Lemont woke the next day and began packing. Some of his kin thought him a bit mad but most were used to these kinds of things. The Harples were know for being a very strange bunch to all who visit them. Lemont set out after his goodbyes and made his way to Simid where he could feel the pull of intrigue, knowledge, adventure, and most of all, discovery. He did so with a heart full and a soul determined. What will these adventures bring for the wonky eyed Harple, only those who join will know.
Interesting character concept! Maybe elaborate on how Abel became a Swarmkeeper a little more because I definitely want to know more about this character.
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
How does this look?
I added some stuff to give him more flavor.
Abel was once a prince of a distant land. Until one day, the land was ravaged by numerous monsters, Abel's father and mother were soon defeated by the monsters, but not after Abel's father told him to flee and to escape. Abel eventually stayed in the wilderness, finding more comfort in the forests then in his previous home. He lived off of the land, and eventually discarded his royal heritage, to see how people would treat him, and so he wouldn't get targeted by anyone looking for his royal bloodline. He trusts animals more than people, and would usually go out of his way to befriend any creature, but he still doesn't have any objection with hunting, or eating meat. He also seemed to have an affinity with the bugs that lived there, as a kid, he would always sneak some bugs into his castle, but his family would always shoo them away. Now that he lives in the wilderness, his fondness grew for the bugs, as he eventually became a Swarmkeeper. He would let them crawl on him, and wouldn't be bothered in the slightest. He still goes into the nearby village, and he is usually met with odd looks and rumors. As the creatures he was friends with would come along with him. They gave him names, such as the "Wild One" for his lack of etiquette, and lack of emotional control, others called him the "Living Dead" as he generally let the bugs crawl on him, such as what would happen to a corpse. Abel didn't mind, he wanted people to be honest with him, and looks for trouble and adventure wherever it can be found.
Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Ettse'El Runs With Flowers
Race: Tabaxi
Background: Sage (Researcher)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Monk
Born on 12 Tarsahk (The Claw of Storms) 1473 (The Year of the Heretic's Rampage), Ettse'El's family have been in Secomber for five generations, her clan having been led there by their ancestors from Port Nyanzaru. After years traveling the Sword Coast the clan made the unusual decision, for Tabaxi, to settle down and make roots in the community. Naturally, many of the clan felt wanderlust overcome them, but for the rest the hunting grounds along the banks of the Delimbiyr River have become familiar territory. Some of those who left have even returned there in their retiring years.
Her parents were delighted when she was accepted as a five year old to the Hin Fist monastery located atop the escarpment of the High Moor, under the tutelage of Strongheart Halfing Master Hado Ginsi. They would visit her twice a year, and she has always been assured of their devotion.
She has excelled in the martial training she has received, but has also taken advantage of the monastery's library and learned elders to educate herself in the ways of the world. It was during the course of these studies that she became a follower of Oghma, the God of Knowledge. She adopted the dogma of Oghma as her guiding principles: "An idea has no heft but it can move mountains. An idea has no authority but it can dominate people. An idea has no strength but it can push aside empires. Knowledge is the greatest too of the mortal mind, outweighing anything made by mortal hands. Before anything else can exist, the idea must exist."
Knowledge, particularly the raw knowledge of ideas, is supreme. An idea has no weight, but it can move mountains. The greatest gift of humankind, an idea outweighs anything made by mortal hands. Knowledge is power and must be used with care, but hiding it away from others is never a good thing. Stifle no new ideas, no matter how false and crazed they seem; rather, let them be heard and considered. Never slay a singer, nor stand by as others do. Spread knowledge wherever it is prudent to do so. Curb and deny falsehoods, rumour, and deceitful tales whenever you encounter them. Write or copy lore of great value at least once a year and give it away. Sponsor and teach bards, scribes and record keepers. Spread truth and knowledge so that all folk know more. Never deliver a message falsely or incompletely. Teach reading and writing to those who ask (if your time permits), and charge no fee for the teaching.
She eventually made the difficult decision to leave the monastery in order to pursue her desire to experience all she has read of, in particular arcane magic which she finds fascinating. She spent long days and nights reading all she could of the Weave and Mystra, learning what she could without the dedicated instruction of an arcane mistress.
The world, however, has proven quite daunting. Nothing in her reading prepared her for the throng of society, the scrutiny of ill-wishers. So she has skirted around larger settlements, finding more comfort in villages and completely circumnavigating the hinterland of Waterdeep rather than face the city. She offered basic self-defence training and for children and taught them to read and write and thereby made just enough to eke out a meagre lifestyle.
I like that better. It adds flavor and depth to your character and solidifies his backstory more. Awesome work!
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
This is an awesome backstory! I can tell you've put a ton of time into it!
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
Thanks!
Amma
Race: born a Human. Technically the Fey version of a Tiefling
Background: to be defined
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Warlock (Archfey patron)
A long time ago, the Feys of the Court of Herons won a great battle in the place that would eventually be known as Lamaswell Valley by the lesser races. So important was the victory that the Court decreed that every few centuries they would intersect their realm with the material plane in that very place, for a day and a night of wild celebrations.
When the time for the latest intersection came, the Feys realized that, in the short (for them) time since the last celebration, the valley has been colonized and a thriving human town stood next to their altars.
Outraged by such an affront, the Lords of the Court demanded a price from the mortals to have their forgiveness: on the day of the celebration they animated every image reflected in the city. From dawn to dusk, these living reflexes kidnapped every child from three to six years, dragging them into the reflective surfaces. Those being a mirror, a puddle, or the shiny armor of a guard, it didn't matter: all of them were made portals by the magic of the Archfeys. Amma was one of them, even if he had a different name and shape then.
The children woke on a sombre grassland sprinkled with mirrors of dark water, with their new masters looming silent over them. They were to be distributed among the members of the court, to be used as the fey pleased.
Amma was gifted to Lady Ulvara, and from that point onwards his memories become sketchy.
He remembers long hours spent reminiscing about home with Dasia and Joie, fellow citizens never met before, but now more than siblings.
He remembers floating in a pond, held by his Lady as rain fell upward, with several skeletal forms watching from the from the shores.
He remembers seeing a speck of light floating out of his body and into Lady Ulvara's hand, who replaced it with something different.
He remembers participating in many games under the gaze of the Herons, against spirits but most often against other kidnapped mortals, but not in the way a human could easily understand: actual fights were as common as races to find the most beautiful flower, or competition on the most vigorous love making.
He remembers his body changing, his features becoming sharper, his eyes slanted, his ears pointed. Lady Ulvara taught him to summon Eldritch energy.
One day the Lady told Amma and Dasia, Joie was now long lost, about a great work she has been toiling on, and their place in it. After long (years?) preparations Lady Ulvara unleashed a coup that made her the High Heart in the Court of Herons. As thanks, the High Heart allowed her servants to return in the material plane with her blessing and retaining the powers she already bestowed them.
So, your character is a tiefling, but fey-touched?
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
Or is it a human with the effect of a tiefling, but fey instead of fiend?
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
The second you said seems more fitting. I'd use the rules of the Tiefling for a character human by birth but phisically modified by the Archfey to have physical features more similar to an elf.
Ok, that makes sense. You should Homebrew a race for that, because it sounds very interesting.
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
Ruva Günhild
Mountain Dwarf/ Barbarian/Path of the Zealot
Tradition runs deep within the lineage of Ruva Günhild of the Overmountain Frusen Glädjé Clan. While some female dwarves are beardless, her family has been gifted with the honor of having bearded women as well as the males. She takes great pride in her family name and it shows in the grooming and presentation of her beard. She always makes sure to wear the proper braids and adornments on the high holy days and traditional ceremonies of the clan. Her House has always followed the ways of Haela Brightaxe, The Lady of the Fray and it is the tradition to become part of her clergy known as Kaxanar (translated Bloodmaiden). Growing up she was the only daughter with three brothers. Her stern but loving father continuously tested the mettle of his only daughter to grow up to be the finest Kaxanar. He made it a point to sign her up in the best Gladiator swordschool as a young lass when she became of age to train to be a Bloodmaiden of the clan. Mother was always sure to remind her of her House responsibilities, respect the tenets of Haela Brightaxe and to keep the Günhild name alive through grandchildren. She was always on the lookout for one to wed her daughter, but few were found to be interested. Most of the boys were in fact frightened of her instead.
While Ruva grew to being a warrior of honor and tradition, she always longed for love and a meaningful relationship. Since most dwarves look alike and to avoid confusion she came out as “openly female” within the clan. But none would have her except for Alestain Crumbeard who since childhood made several advances to her dismay! One day after avoiding him by swiping left (with her axe), she vowed to herself to one day leave the clan in search of a handsome prince to put a ring on it (her beard, that is).
It was not long after this day that the clan had suffered a devastating crisis of faith in the news that their god, Haela Brightaxe, had been killed in an epic battle against the duergar god, Laduguer. When the clerics prayed to her, it was their divination silence that confirmed the dire news. Shortly after the funeral rites and the Great Time of Mourning, rumors of signs of Haela’s presence had been seen during battle within one of her temples and another in the morning sun. Was all not lost? Was there a way to bring back The Luckmaiden herself? The remaining Kaxanar of the clan set out to quest for any information in the return of Haela Brightaxe and to rekindle her life-fire. Ruva said goodbye to her family hoping to return soon for this was to be a quest for Haela and to find the spark of love to ease her raging heart.
On her quest, she thought to put a personal ad on the event board of the town she was passing through. Being shy and not proficient in relationships, she penned this ad.
Hot blooded traditional tribal girl seeks her Prince Charming
Looking for a guy with big strong hands because I am a bit of a handfull! It’s a plus if you like to laugh and enjoy quiet time! No barbarians or ragers!
You be hearty and ready to party or young, dumb and full of rum.
Must like hirsute honeys and Great Weapon masters are welcome.
I’m a traditional girl that is a natural redhead, 145 years old, 4’ 8, 22” beard, stout, thick in all the right places and is at home step dancing on tables!
Likes: Long walks through the Underdark, braiding each others beards and arm wrestling.
Dislikes: Davey Downers, pointy ears, clean shaven
If interested Please inquire at the local tavern!
While pinning it to the board she had noticed a posting that there was a thing called Speed Dating at the local tavern tonight! This would be a good chance to meet others with the same interests and desires!
Appearance: She normally wears little clothing, a leather bustier, skirt and boots to show her bravery in combat. In times of battle and war, it is not uncommon for a Bloodmaiden to wear nothing but tribal warpaint or blood on their naked body to unsettle their opponent.
She has long red hair, freckles, face tattoos, piercings, and a partially shaved head with the dwarven fade pattern of her clan in her hair.
She takes great pride in her beard which is red like her hair, braided, well kept and well groomed with beard oils and perfumes. It contains beads, rings and bands of iron symbolizing her house, clan and station. Currently, she wears a Braid of Courtship to show her search for a mate. Her forearms have tribal geometric scarification patterns that were ritually carved there upon her initiation into the Order of Bloodmaidens.
Additional Overmountain Frusen Glädjé Clan and Günhild Tribe info:
Within the clan, the beard, in its many forms, can express the identity of its wearer concerning kinship, status, age, religion, and ethnicity. But it can also symbolize heritage, identity, station or ceremonial dress. Some of the traditional Beardstyles are Braids of Courtship (worn occasionally by Ruva in dwarven lands), Strength, Battle, Life, and Death to name a few. Some within her clan can braid secret messages within the complicated braids to send a message, where each knot can signify a letter to deliver a hidden message within the beard, to the ones who can decipher it, even after death.
To the Frusen Glädjé clan, the beard is an extension of your spirit which connects you to the earth. It’s downward growth brings you closer to the clan ancestors buried within its embrace. The longer the beard, the wiser and closer you are to it’s ancestors. The tradition of giving a lock of beard hair to a loved one, is considered a great token of affection and love. In fact, because hair does not decompose, it was cherished as a symbol of eternal life…a reminder of mortality and immortality.
Kaxanar sometimes adorn their bodies with the blessed blood of their own or of their enemies before, during and after battle. Sometimes if time allows, a ritualistic ceremony of painting binds the Bloodmaiden, body, mind and soul to her enemy. Afterwards, win or lose, a ceremony of cleansing or washing off the blood symbolizing the peace or finality of the outcome. Such is done in times of war and with battles of great importance.
Discord: Tully#0286
Nadir, a human Rogue Soulknife. Haunted One background, because, well, you'll see.
Nadir knows not his real name. He knows not his age, the town of his birth, or even if his family is still alive. Or who his family is.
His first tangible memory – there are many clouded thoughts and short visions of a time before, and the occasional name that he dreams of – was of riding in a wagon, amongst other travelers. He was just a lone passenger, having paid for transport from a trio of gypsies. It was during the night meal, maybe one day's walk from the next town, when a strange shriek came from out of the dark forest. He felt a sharp chill inside his head, and then he could somehow hear the old woman’s thoughts… and from his right hand, an ichor black dagger manifested… with faint green edges. All three of his companions were startled, moreso by him, than whatever beast had screeched moments ago. This strange black appendage faded within seconds.
The elderly woman yelled “Nadir! Nadir!” at him pointing, and making odd gestures. The younger man comforted her, while the younger woman fled to the wagon. They removed his bag from the wagon, and quickly left him behind, with only the fire for company. As they faded away, he could see the old crone’s eyes on him, and hear her whispering “Nadir” over and over.
He spent the night fitfully afraid – both of strange creatures that might be stalking him, and by the strange manifestation the he had no earthly idea how to suppress, or maybe control. He walked into the town the next day, but never saw that cart.
He thought Nadir might be his name, so he just referred to himself as Nadir. Sometimes, people would snicker at him when he said the name. It was well over a year when he learned that “nadir” was the word for “dark abomination” in those traveler's tongue. Mostly, people felt sorry for him, for the emptiness in his eyes. They felt that he had faced horrors before, and maybe was not better for having survived.
Having few skills, but being nimble-fingered and quick to learn, he fell in with some ruffians and cultists, who seemed to pity him, and could appreciate his ability to either cause a needed distraction, or his ability to move so quickly and seem to vanish from sight, without a trace. It was almost as if he knew where his pursuers were going to go, and he simply went the other way.
Practice allowed him to hone his skills, and master the “shadow blades” that he could sometimes conjure. What he couldn’t control was the nightmares… the visions and voices that only he could sense. These supernatural apparitions would sometimes be demons or faces appearing in the wall, or a frosted windowpane, or in the fire. On occasion, the entire world seemed to be… wrong. Everything was cast in black and white – more black than white – and no color, except for the faded tones of himself. There are also weird colored lights… faint mists that skitter about the countryside, or glowing orbs that fall from the sky.
And the voices… those were the worst, because they would echo in his head for months afterward. Names he had no face for, places he had no knowledge of being in, and strange phrases that filled him with dread.
First off, awesome backstory. Very well-written. Secondly, is the Shadowknife a Hexblade flavor or a Homebrew of yours?
I'm not begging for attention, but if you like World Anvil, go give me a look.
I meant to say Soulknife, sorry. Unearthed Arcana build that I think was "deactivated," but since I built this guy while it was active, I'm grandfathered in. Here's the details -
https://www.dndbeyond.com/subclasses/soulknife-ua
Actually, not only did the Soulknife make it through the revision process to the latest UA (with some revisions), it even kept its name.
Creating Epic Boons on DDB
DDB Buyers' Guide
Hardcovers, DDB & You
Content Troubleshooting
Carric Danthalan
Race: Elf (Eladrin)
Background: Mercenary Veteran
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class: Fighter (Champion)
Carric was born a twin to a small family in a small village. His family always maintained close ties to Titania, the Summer Queen of the Feywild, who gave the Dalanthans the power to defend themselves. Carric lived with them for over a hundred years, well into the early decades of his adult life.
When Carric was 190, his parents sent him and his sister, Lia, on a quest to the Feywild, as they themselves had done when they were 190. Lia and Carric went to the Feywild to seek out court with the Summer Queen. Upon arriving at her court, Lia and Carric were brought directly to Titania, who took immediate interest in them. Titania urged Lia and Carric to stay a while, and to enjoy the pleasantries of the Summer Court.
After sixty years in the Summer Court, Carric was called before Titania to go on a quest. Titania wanted Carric to return to the material plane, and seek out a shadar-kai mercenary named Afyn. Titania insisted that Afyn was an enemy of the Summer Court, and needed to be eliminated. Carric agreed, and left the Summer Court to seek out Afyn. Upon returning to the material plane, Carric went straight home, where he found his parents’ graves. Carric met with one of the other villagers, who revealed that a mercenary company came through and killed many people in the village, including Carric’s parents. The villager called the mercenary company “Shadow’s Fist” and said that it was led by a mysterious sorcerer who seemed to live within the shadows themselves.
Carric set out to find the Shadow’s Fist, and ended up doing just that in a nearby town. He discovered that Shadow’s Fist was led by Afyn, the very same shadar-kai Carric had been sent to kill. Deciding that the best way to kill Afyn was to join with the Shadow’s Fist, and work his way up to being Afyn’s right hand man, so he could kill Afyn himself. For the next seventy years, Carric did just that, and worked his way through the ranks of the Shadow’s Fist. Eventually, he became an integral part of Afyn’s inner circle. As soon as he was in Afyn’s inner circle, Carric went for the kill. Afyn led the Shadow’s Fist through the forest containing the village of Carric’s childhood one day, and during a break to eat, Carric attacked Afyn. The two dueled for a moment, before Afyn overpowered Carric, beating him. Afyn, knowing that Carric’s parents were buried in the nearby eladrin village, brought Carric to his parents’ grave, and left him for dead there.
Carric was found by a kind cleric from the village named Adrie Qualanthri, who brought Carric back from the brink of death. Once Carric was nursed back to health, Adrie helped Carric return to the Feywild, so he could inform Titania of his progress. Upon returning to the Feywild, Carric discovered that Titania already knew that Carric had failed to kill Afyn, and was upset that her prized pupil was not powerful enought to kill Afyn. Titania knew that Carric returning was a sign of surrender. Unable to allow her eladrin champion to surrender, she came up with a plan to motivate him. When Carric arrived at the Summer Court, Titania ordered Lia to kill him. Knowing Lia would not give up the magic Titania had given her, and not wanting to force his sister to kill him, Carric ran.
And Carric is still running. He hopes one day that he can kill Afyn, so that he may return to Titania, and so Lia is not forced to kill him.
Covian Sura (Rygat Jeskgix) Draconic for "Chaos Fangclaw"
Race: Black Dragonborn
Background: Folk Hero
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Bard (College Of Creation)
Rygat Jeskgix was Black Dragonborn, and a soldier fighting for a troop of Dragonborns who wanted dominion over the land with an iron fist. Rygat was bred to be the most powerful and deadly Dragonborn in the squadron, which would surely achieve conquest. However, one of Rygat's missions changed everything. He was tasked with destroying a nearby village, it was a simple task. When Rygat came to the village however, he was expecting an attack, but it never came. The village was known as a peaceful village, one without a need for destruction. They fed him after his long journey, they gave him tips on mountains, and the nearby land, and they even let him stay at their humble little village. This changed Rygat, he never experienced people being nice to him, and even liked being a nice person. So he left his troop, and hung up his weapons and his armor, and picked up a small Lyre, and began to play. He awakened his Bardic powers there, and learned at the College of Creation, channeling his destructive tendencies into notes of happiness and freedom. In order to protect the village he stays at, he changed his name, Rygat Jeskgic was no more, now lived Covian Sura. He was a charming fellow, one who wouldn't be seen as a deadly warrior in the past. He toys with his enemies, plays and dances around them, while delivering deadly blows with his Rapier, if he fought now however... He always had a fear however, he feared that his past would catch up with him, and his village would be caught in the middle of him, and a huge problem...
Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Duriment (Blaster Blade)
Race: Human (Variant)
Background: Knight Of The Order
Alignment: Lawful Good
Class: Paladin (Oath Of Devotion)/Fighter (Samurai)
Duriment was a knight for a legendary land known as "Grand Haven." Grand Haven was known as a legendary myth, it was a myth of a holy city, one of prosperous technology, as Warforged and other machines, technology on par with the land of Eberron. Duriment was a servant of the God Tyr, dedication his life to upholding the secrecy, and protection of this holy city. He was also very keen in skills of magic and swordplay, he was given the title of "Blaster Blade," as his skills with a blade, and skill with magic led him to blast and cut through his enemies, and were unmatched. One day, the lord of Grand Haven told him to venture out into the land, in order to preserve the secrecy of Grand Haven, and to defend the surrounding lands from all manners of evil. He held his promise to the king with a solemn oath, and would give his life for the greater good. He is stern and a genuinely nice person, but his taciturn demeanor would lead many to fear him, but he doesn't hold it against the people, as he quest is a lonesome one. Duriment aims to finish his quest, so the land can be at peace.
Damion Wild, Mark Of Storm Half-Elf, Druid (Circle Of Wildfire) 5, Monk 3
Name: Lemont Harple CHARACTER SHEET
Race: Variant Human
Class: Cleric-Arcane going to multi into Chronugy Magic Wizard
Alignment: NG
Appearance: Short shaggy brown hair with a reseeding hairline on the corners of his forehead. His eyes are a bright iridescent blue, but the left one wanders up and to the left. He stands 5'9 and is scrawny, but holds himself with good balance and purpose. He wears leather armor, wielding a shield , and has an fairly good condition mace at his side with a book in water tightly bound leather. The symbol on his shield matches that of his amulet, both that of his goddess Rodansica. Oh his back sits a backpack with a light crossbow hanging within reach.
Backstory: Born into a family of odd magicians, Lemont was always surrounded by all types of magic and casters. He was in love with magic in general. All things arcane drew him like a moth to a light spell. He did all he could to study the very nature of magic. Eventually and inevitably, he began to worship Rodansica (The campaign's goddess of magic and lore). Secretly, he loved the goddess with all his heart, so he became a cleric of her order with intent to get as close as he can to her and the world of magic. He studied and trained in combat hard, knowing he would have to face danger out in the world. Some days he would do so until complete exhaustion. On his 22nd birthday he had trained like this and then partied with his family. Full of love, cheer, and accomplishment from training and studying so hard that day, he fell into a deep slumber. In this dream time was fluid. He could see how the weave danced and whirled within time itself. He felt so inspired and elated! A beautiful voice filled his soul, a tender and loving woman's voice. "I know you lemont Harple" She said, every word filling him and causing what he felt would be his heart to swell with tranquility and love. "You're role is not in my cericship, but in discovery. I Task you my dear Lemont, with adventure and creation. Go this teenday to Simid and find allies to help you in this. After being back 200 years I think I may have found some hope"
Lemont woke the next day and began packing. Some of his kin thought him a bit mad but most were used to these kinds of things. The Harples were know for being a very strange bunch to all who visit them. Lemont set out after his goodbyes and made his way to Simid where he could feel the pull of intrigue, knowledge, adventure, and most of all, discovery. He did so with a heart full and a soul determined. What will these adventures bring for the wonky eyed Harple, only those who join will know.
Drow enthusiast
Lover of lore and magic.
-The White Crow-