Kalvar was an adventurer in his younger days, traveling with a group of glorified heroes who traveled between towns, killing small time nuisances and taking as much money as they could for their service. They enjoyed fame for a while but Kalvar began to grow tired of the violence and the way they played off the fears of these rural peasants for money, so he left the group. He became an inkeeper on the edges of society, catering mostly to adventurers and traveling merchants. He married a human woman, and had a daughter name Astra. Kalvar didn't look fondly on his younger days, but was optimistic with treating adventurers and those traveling through with a good time and with good food. One afternoon, a rowdy young group of adventurers swept through his tavern, getting drunk and disturbing his other guests. He threw them out of the tavern with a bit of struggle, banning them from the place. That night, they returned, intending to teach him a lesson, and set fire to his tavern. The blaze quickly spread out of control, and Kalvar flew at the unwanted company with rage, killing one of them in his fury and scaring the others off. He snapped out of his tirade as he saw his daughter on the stair, watching. Mournful he scooped her up and fled to retrieve his wife and escape the burning building. However the place began to come down, and his wife was trapped in her room. She died in the blaze, as Kalvar and his daughter narrowly escaped. Kalvar faced charges after the accident for the murder of the adventurer, and was thrown in prison for several years. He got time off for good behavior, and was discharged early, but lost his daughter in the process, who abandoned him as a murderer and a coward. She left to go study as an apprentice to a wizard, while Kalvar was left alone in the world. His first night out of jail, sleeping in a musty roadside tavern, he was confronted by the god of honor and justice, Taln, who came to him in a dream. Taln convinced him to make something with his life, to harness his rage into form and fight as his champion. He assured Kalvar that although he had a long way to go, and the journey would not be easy, that there was a way to cope with the suffering he had endured. He could fight with a purpose, for something worth fighting for. Kalvar took several days preparing, first offering prayers to Taln, then getting his old gear and hitting the road, journeying under Taln's guidance wherever the winds take him, searching for a cause worth fighting for, and people to fight alongside.
Stats
Strength 20, Dex 15, Con 17
Kalvar is about 40, middle age but getting older, yet still possesses the strength granted by his orc blood. He fights with great strength and fury, struggling to bottle his rage and fight with control. His order as a cleric is his duty to his god, but he still keeps the strength and power from his adventuring days in his toolbox, so to speak.
Int 9, Wis 17, Cha 10
Kalvar has left behind the rage and arrogance of his younger days. He feels no particular disdain towards adventurers, but seeks to keep that part of his life a secret. He isn't the sharpest in mind, but has a sort of quiet wisdom that comes from someone who was once very foolish and yet seeks to make better of his past mistakes. Despite his orcish nature he is very gentle and likeable, and still has many of the skills he used in bartending. He seeks to follow Taln where the path takes him, and yet also to be reunited with his daughter, and reconcile with her. He still pays for her tuition as an apprentice, which she accepts, although she still treats him coldly and has not forgiven him, only remembering the father who left her behind and got her mother killed.
My character's name is Taryn Tsergoth, and here's his tragic tale...........
Taryn Tsergoth is a 16-year-old rogue with a sad life. He used to live in an idyllic village with his parents, Marken and Anaea. However, when Taryn was only three, a nefarious cult of Golyn, the Fiery Mouth, arrived in Taryn's village. And they, you guessed it, killed his parents. He was taken to the capital of Aradyr: the city of Halberd, to live with his uncle Dustwyn. However, Dustwyn had a disease, and after only a year with Taryn, he died too. Taryn was left alone on the streets, and he was forced to fend for himself. So, there he stayed for 10 years, a street urchin who slowly developed necessary skills by evading the city watch. Then, everything changed when he met a kind elf wizard named Aelar with a fear of owlbears. They adventured together for a couple years, and eventually parted after finally finding the Golden Duck. Now, Taryn is a clever rogue for hire, who seeks revenge on the cult of Golyn.
Note: This guy is made for my custom world, Azabas. Sorry.
Kenku fighter: As with most Kenku bearing the curse for a sin of a flock long dead, life wasn't easy for Whistle. Life became much more difficult when a beggar's shelter turned out to be a trap for experiments. His ability to follow commands unwaveringly with no thought of his own (look up the history of the Kenku curse) made him an asset for managing and conducting the experiments. As a Kenku's words are only from what a Kenku hears and could provide evidence, the sadistic wizards and alchemists removed his tongue and nailed his beak shut, drilling a small hole for which he can drink and slurp up the gruel they fed to the experiments; hence the name, Whistle.
As things go, adventurers came along and rid the place of the self-proclaimed scientists and freed all the prisoners with no thought to what the beggars would do with their freedom after terrible experimentations changed many of them. Because Whistle proved useful in following the directions of the adventurers during their quest, he was freed along with the beggars, but his beak had become permanently shut over time.
Thanks to the new thoughts provided by his time with the well-meaning but short-sighted adventurers, Whistle took up the idea of helping people whether working as a master craftsman under the tutelage of a master craftsperson or doing odd or daring jobs for people. His ability to perfectly replicate anything he experienced made him a well-kept secret within the artisan guilds as he could not act on whims and could not speak of his experiences.
If players encounter Whistle, they will find him very obedient which might be mistaken for eagerness to help. With the right teachings, Whistle can become a valuable ally who will be loyal or be a liability for having no understanding of loyalty. His experiences have given him the ability to be quite a good fighter as long as what he is facing is close to something he has faced already. With the right teaching, this can be affected for the benefit of the party as well or, without, be a detriment as Whistle will have no response to new threats.
NOTE: Relating to the curse, Kenku cannot fly from having their wings replaced with arms, can only mimic sounds impeccably, and can have no original thought of their own. For a player race, a Kenku character is exceptional for the sake of gameplay. As an NPC, the full curse unmodified suits as a puzzle for players to solve without players knowing that there's a puzzle right in front of them.
Never heard of a Kenku fighter before. Sounds cool. I feel like roleplay gets way harder with adding the beak being shut, on top of kenku already having very limited communication. How do you/you Dm rule it/roleplay it?
It is an NPC for a DM to use, not a PC. It can be used for any purpose as just some incidental flavor or as a tagalong with an adventuring party or as part of a goal for one of the campaign tasks or whatever; to be used as much or as little as desired. I included it here because the thread did not specify that it was only for player characters.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider. My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong. I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲 “It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
It is an NPC for a DM to use, not a PC. It can be used for any purpose as just some incidental flavor or as a tagalong with an adventuring party or as part of a goal for one of the campaign tasks or whatever; to be used as much or as little as desired. I included it here because the thread did not specify that it was only for player characters.
I gotcha. Just wondered. I still like the idea. I definitely think you have more breathing room in making an npc than a pc. pc's require a bit more spotlight capability, whereas npc's can be loveable, hateable, outgoing, or really any way you want. There's more space to be creative because they're not in the game every single moment, whereas pc's are. Because of that I've always like Kenku better as npc's rather than pc's. There's so much controversy on how to play them, and it's a lot of hassle. I would like to play one some day though....
My wood elf assassin rogue, Adlin. (I started with a vague idea, then I rolled on the life events table in Xanthar's Guide to Everything. It was crazy. Whenever I insert a *, it was decreed by the table.)
Born as a slave to a lord, he and his brothers and sister were not like other elves. Angry and hateful. After escaping from a cruel master, and swearing to free his three siblings, he travelled days to the nearest city. Bewildered by diversity and having no idea where to start, he was picked up like a lost puppy by a local thieve's guild. He was taught in the black arts of assassination at age 16, and his first victim was a thief turned good. After a few years, he set off to free his siblings with his thieve's tools. When he arrived, he found, to his dismay, that the manor had been destroyed in an orc raid. No one survived.*(I landed three times on the tragic events table) Crazed with grief, he searched for bodies in the ruins and found three small and slight skeletons. He buried the bones. His last family gone, Adlin returned to the city, to find that the guild had been crippled. He didn't care. He felt so... empty. People looked at him in pity, for they saw a great sadness. He couldn't bear it. Blaming himself, he travelled far and wide. But wherever he went, he saw his sibling's empty eyes. That was when things took a turn. He befriended a retired soldier, who told him to join the city militia. After a few months of resisting, Adlin eventually gave in. He was astonished at the comradeship between soldiers, the heartiness, the warm glow of friendship, and he was content for the first time in years. Adlin found people who needed him, people who didn't care about his pointed ears, nor the sadness that permeated him. He could stop people from going through the same hardships as he had gone. He had let go of the guilt, the pain. That was when disaster struck. He was on patrol when they were ambushed by three times their number of bugbears. They didn't stand a chance. Comrades dying around him, he fought. Struck by a dozen wounds,, he found himself the last of the patrol standing. The screams of his comrades in arms will forever invade his dreams, his nightmares.* Then he was buried under the bodies of his foes. Waking, in the morning, he found the surviving bugbears gone. Bathing his wounds, Adlin looked at himself in the reflection of the pond. A terribly scarred face looked back at him, one eye forever grey, forever unseeing. Limping back to his city, he tried to shake the screams out of his head. He had learnt not to take the guilt, but to get rid of the screams was another thing. The lord of the city had taken a personal interest in Adlin, and when Adlin asked to retire, the lord asked him to move into the lord's manor. Politely declining, he practised the art of dual-wielding rapiers to fill in empty hours at the barracks. But now wanderlust had caught up to him, and he started adventuring. He joined a group of adventurers and fell in love with a wood elf ranger. But happiness was short-lived, and the village where they were staying was attacked by a huge tribe of orcs that had been sacking towns. In the fight that followed, the wood elf ranger was killed,* and in the ensuing rage, Adlin lost an ear and two fingers along with grievous wounds.* Even more scarred than before, Adlin went into a fit of grief, and, after burning the adventurer's bodies, he vowed to never rest while evil abides.
And remember, it was not me, it was the dice. I haven't fallen into the trap of making a dark character. Adlin's personality isn't dark, it is stoic, straightforward( With an intelligence score of 9), sensible, and kindly, a typical ex-soldier ex-criminal. By the way, he is 113 years old, and I am 13 years old. I'm wanting to multiclass into Battle Master fighter. Strength 11, Dexterity 19, Constitution 15, Intelligence 9, Wisdom 15, Charisma 12.
Chaotic good, flaw "My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning."
One of my groups is starting a homebrew mini campaign soon that I'm very excited about! The setting is basically Forgotten Realms meets Mad Max. My character is Désiré "Dizzy" Moreau, dhampir bard.
"Dizzy was born in the settlement of Salvation, a remote outpost in the Wastes that's home to a unique religious community. The inhabitants of Salvation form the Church of the Dawnbringer, their name for a version of the sun god Pelor. The Church believes that the fall of civilization was a divine punishment for the wickedness of mortals, and that one day Pelor will return to the material plane, punishing evildoers and bringing a new age of prosperity for the faithful. To that end, members of the Church lead puritanical lives of work and worship, hoping to prove themselves worthy of being saved.
Dizzy stood out almost from birth, not just because they look very different from their fair complected family. Dizzy was naturally unruly - loud, factious, and energetic. He chafed against the constraints of Salvation's austere culture, constantly fighting with his parents, and everyone else for that matter. Their only ally was their younger sister Azélie, whom they love more than anything.
Dizzy was different in other, darker ways as well. They had bursts of rage that seemingly came from nowhere, and disturbing violent dreams. His parents feared this was a sign of some sinister corruption. They were proved right when Dizzy was badly injured in a bandit attack on Salvation. The near death experience triggered their family's unknown vampiric heritage, and Dizzy became a dhampir.
Shortly after, Dizzy left Salvation for the isolation of the Wastes, where they could safely learn to control their new hunger for mortal blood. Save for Azélie, no one was sorry to see them go."
My most recent character creation is a path of the beast barbarian named Malth Borla, in a Norse themed world. He is a variant human who was once a violent, territorial bear in the forest near a village. There was a woman i nthe village who was the only one who didn't fear him, and he fell in love with her, and she tamed his heart. He became known as Malth Borla, or "Old Bear" in dwarven. One day, the village was attacked by orc raiders and Malth thundered out to meet them, to try and save the village. The Old Bear felled many Orcs, but was bested and fell in battle. He awoke beside an old man with one eye, who told him in words he somehow understood that he had shown great courage and died in battle, but the soul of a beast cannot go to valhalla, no matter how deserving. Odin resurrected Malth as a man, so that he could have another chance to live well and die in battle, to join him in Valhalla as a man.
Malth is a gentle giant, unkempt but polite and slow, and he enjoys telling stories for people and hearing new ones. he makes toys for children, and defends the villages in the area from the vampires who live nearby. When he rages, the transformation Odin put on him flickers and he regains some of his animalistic traits, much to his enemies dismay. He wields a staff made from a tree from his woods, ripped from the ground and found to have its roots wrapped around a stone, as a maul. He's neutral good, and acts in a very paladin-like manner, though he's not officially one.
Theodore was the only child of Rowena d'Ghallanda-Worthy and her husband Percival d'Ghallanda-Worthy. He grew up with all the comforts and luxuries a young halfling could want, being a member of House Ghallanda, especially one as fortunate to have been born with the Mark of Hospitality, just like his father, Percival.
His mother, Rowena, owned and co-managed a beautiful tavern on the outskirts of the Gatherhold called The Golden Fire Hearth. Percival worked in the tavern as the Barkeeper and Co-Manager, using the powers of his Dragonmark to help Rowena provide an experience that rivaled that of the Ghallanda Enclaves.
Theodore spent all the time he could with his parents, learning how to run the business and helping as much as he could. His father showed him the way around the kitchen and tavern floor, and how to properly plate and serve, eventually teaching him to tend the bar when he was old enough. His mother taught him how to manage the day to day operations and handle the accounting. It never mattered how busy things got in the tavern, they always had time for Theo.
Although the tavern wasn't meant to serve as an Inn, they did have a few extra rooms with some basic comforts they would rent on occasion if anybody needed a place to sleep off the night before. The rooms were only set up because his parents would have family staying with them when they needed a neutral space. Theo's favorite uncle, Ulysses d'Ghallanda, would often stop in for a night or two when he was passing through with the Wandering Inn caravans. Ulysses would spend countless hours at night telling Theo the stories of all the different peoples he'd met across the world. Theo wanted more than anything to go out and see the world. It became a dream of his to follow in the footsteps of his parents, and his uncle, and try to provide a neutral space, outside of the Ghallanda controlled Wandering Inn, to rest and find a drink and a warm meal out on a long road. He made his uncle Ulysses teach him how to drive a carriage as soon as he was old enough so he could have his own Traveling Tavern one day.
Over the years, Theo had come to know most of the regulars quite well, some were almost like family. When he was younger, he made lots of friends among the kids that would come through, but before long, several of his friends began leaving home for promise of adventure and fortune. Some never returned, but those that did often came with extraordinary stories, and occasionally even great riches. Theo listened to these stories for many years, and he decided to start saving some coin for his own adventure. His parents paid him well for his work in the tavern and let him keep all the tips that came in while he was working, and with all that he managed to put away 2-3 gold every week for a little over a year and a half.
He was getting close to saving up 200 gold, and he was sitting upstairs in his room counting it one day when one of the coins caught the light and for just a moment he caught a glimpse of a glowing golden horse right outside the window. Much to his surprise, when he looked up there was just a regular, palomino horse standing in the middle of the road with no reins or hitching to keep it from running off, so he quickly ran downstairs and outside to see who it belonged to. He rushed down the stairs, passed his parents with a quick hug and kiss, and ran through the door to see the horse beginning to take off towards the woods. He grabbed a rope and started running after it as quick as his little halfling legs could carry him. Although the horse was obviously moving faster than him, it somehow never made it out of his sight and he kept up with it for a few miles before it finally leapt over a fence and disappeared into a stable.
Theo followed along the fence until he came upon a large sign, hanging a short way up the road from a beautiful two-story house. The sign looked like a large coin with a woman's face carved from a slab of wood and painted gold. It had a Golden plaque at the bottom that read "The Merchant's Friend Wheelwright." As Theo got close enough to read the sign a voice called out from the house to ask him if he needed assistance. He was approached and greeted by a tall, surprisingly well-adorned figure who said she would like to offer him a deal, if he was willing to part with a fair sum of gold.
Stunned to silence by the strange series of events that led him here, he fumbled for the words to say, and suddenly his mouth seemed to move without his effort, making words before he thought them. He began negotiating the prices of a wagon and two horses with the wheelwright, with her eventually conceding at the price of the horses, 100 gold, with the wagon as a gift, telling him that he would surely need it where he was going, and that it had been too long since she got to negotiate, and it was her pleasure.
He counted out her gold and handed it to her and she dipped briefly into the house. She emerged with a small pouch insisting he had overpaid her by 15 gold and handed him the pouch. He opened the pouch and inside were indeed 15 gold coins, but they looked exactly like the one on the sign, with the face of the woman he was just negotiating with stamped onto them. He looked up and the woman was gone, as was the house, the fence, and the stable that were all previously in front of him. Were it not for the coins in his hand he'd be sure he'd gone mad. He turned to look for the sign and in its place stood only a wagon with two draft horses, exactly what he had paid for.
After taking a few minutes to collect his bearings and come back to himself, Theo approached the horses and introduced himself before he climbed up the wagon to inspect it. The wagon was very simple, but extremely well crafted. It had all the necessary comforts of a luxury carriage with the simple adornments of a common wagon. The horses were both solid colored, one silver and one chestnut. He wasn't sure how, but he seemed to know the horses names were Silver and Copper without having to think about it. As he said their names, they seemed to acknowledge him, with an awareness and intelligence uncommon amongst horses.Night began closing in, so he took the reins and directed the horses a few miles up the road around the woods he'd run through to make it to the wheelwrights, back towards home.
Once he made it home, Theo's parents greeted him at the door with dinner, and asked him why he ran off in such a hurry. He sat down and explained what he had been through and even showed them the gold coins, which now seemed to faintly pulse with energy. He talked with them about it some more over dinner and when he mentioned the name, The Merchant's Friend Wheelwright, his father gasps and exclaims that Theo's been blessed by the goddess Waukeen. He brought out some books on her for Theo and they spent the whole night celebrating his good fortune and invited all of their regulars, family, and friends. After some long consideration, Theo told his parents he was going to set out on his journey to pursue his dreams under his own name, Theodore Goldworthy.
They were immensely proud of the son they had raised, and they showed as much. They struggled to keep back tears, but Percival made plenty of meals for Theo to take to start his journey, as well as his recipe book he had been writing for Theo. Rowena helped Theo get supplies together to start his journey. He used most of the gold he had left to get the supplies he would need to keep himself alive out on the road.
A week of shopping and stocking later, he was ready to head out and was telling his parents goodbye when he saw the palomino horse off in the distance again. He kissed his mom on the cheek, hugged his dad, and ran off with a quick goodbye. He hopped in the seat, grabbed the reins, and took off in pursuit of Gold once again.
Here I have my dragonborn ranger, Revi. I'm relatively new to DnD lore and DnD in general (my first introduction campaign is this Thursday), so feedback/criticisms are welcome. ^^
Revira (or Revi, as she prefers being called) was born to the chieftain of the Seaver clan, a clan of dragonborn renowned for their hunting skills. As the only female and alongside her small size when compared to most dragonborn, Revi was looked down upon in favor of her brothers by her father, a famous hunter in the tribe. This outraged the young dragonborn, and determined to prove herself, Revi trained herself in the way of the ranger, becoming quite skilled with a bow while hunting in the nearby forests. What once started as scars and bruises slowly became trophies, such as wearing animals' pelts as clothes and adorning her shoulders with skulls.
However, just like in her youth, Revi's father only scoffed at her efforts. This continued on for quite some time until one day, he gave her a test - if she brought him the head of an orc, she would be fully accepted in his eyes. Blinded by her need to prove herself, Revi's hunt ultimately failed, resulting in a broken right horn alongside several other injuries. When she returned, as expected, her father chastised her, but in the midst of her scolding, Revi noticed something in his hut - what was once her father's bow was now a cobweb-covered decoration, most of the arrows in his quiver were missing, and what hunting trophies she remembered in her youth were old and covered in dust.
Hit by a sudden realization, Revi angrily interrupted her father - why didn't he go after the orc himself? Was it really because he wanted Revi to prove herself, or was it because he was too scared to do it himself? Furiously calling him a coward and a failed excuse for a hunter, Revi fired a single arrow at her father's chest, killing him instantly. Though her brothers and clan members were horrified, their reaction didn't matter to Revi, as she left without a second thought. Her life in her clan wasn't worth remembering, nor was proving herself to her father a priority anymore. Now, she lives life as a wanderer, and though she has no real goal or destination in mind, one thing Revi knows for sure - she's a damned good hunter, and no one can tell her otherwise.
For being new to dnd, that seriously isn't a bad backstory. Straight to the point with some details, its nice. If you wanted to have a whole essay that most players do to make dms cry, add emotions, descriptive writing, etc. BUT if you wanted it simple? You nailed it.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
...Why. why did I pick up the dice I HAVE SO MUCH DICE PLEASE IM BROKE HELP ME
Name: Læna Galanodel (aka Bell Silverstone) Class: Warlock (Celestial) Race: High Elf Patron: Vasael, angel of the Raven Queen Additional references: -Alisaie Leveilleur (High Elf Paladin) is another PC -The Witchbe family is the family of fellow PC Malevolence Witchbe (Tiefling Sorcerer) -The fallen champion of the Raven Queen is fellow PC Novah, who is the daughter of Vasael (Fallen Aasimar Hexblade)
Backstory:
More than a century ago, a high elf was born by the name Bell Galanodel. She was the youngest of three daughters made by Kandor and Frøya Galanodel. Kandor was the cook of house Leveilleur, a knightly house in service of the Fortemps, and Frøya was their gardener. Like elves do, they gave their children their child names: Vell, Dell and Bell. Vell was a great gardener like her mother and Dell a great cook like her father. But their youngest child, Bell, was different. She had fits of rage and tantrums and could neither grow plants or prepare dinner. Her parents and sisters tried their best to raise their daughter well and get her to accept her place and become a good servant to the house of Leveilleur. But nothing they did worked.
At the age of 42, Bell had had enough and she left her home. Not satisfied with her fate in life she headed out to explore the world. But the world was cruel and she managed to get herself captured by Orcs and would surely have been killed but for one trait. Bell was good at two things, absolute savagery and a fierce tongue. The orcs found her tantrums amusing and made her fight other captives, and over time she gained the trust of the small orc raiding party that had captured her. She fought alongside them, learning their language and goring their enemies with bow and sword. Until one night, when all her original capturers had died and after the orcish party had suffered severe losses. She slid the throats of the camp guards and fled.
Having spent nearly three decades with the orcs had forever changed her. It had brought out her worst qualities. Her rage and cruelty. Now entering her seventies she for the first time came upon a human settlement. She was welcomed warmly, since what did the humans have to fear from a single elf? A lot, it would turn out. Bell would ingratiate herself with a group of locals that were fed up with the mayor and learn their names, where they met, and what they talked about. After she had learned all she cared too, she went to the mayor and sold them out. The town imploded on itself and Bell left in the dead of night with a pouch of gold and a new identity. She had asked to be formally adopted by the mayor to get his last name and open doors. To which he had agreed. Her name was now Bell Silverstone. It is under this name that she would start her career of banditry. Now 78 and running out of gold, Bell came upon a halfling village that was at the outskirts of the territory of the Witchbe family. Though they were intended to be independant and left alone, the Witchbe tax collectors did not agree with this and pressed the halflings for taxes that they could rarely afford. This is where Bell entered the village. At first just a kindly elf pretending to be there to help, she slowly rallied the halflings into a dangerous course. With the help of a local halfling rogue named Lowhill Highvalley, she learned their language and culture and integrated into their daily lives. She nudged and prodded the halflings into banditry. At first to pay the taxes forced upon them. They’d only take what they need, right? But then she pushed further and a greed rose among some of the halflings that she exploited. When the halfling elder, Kebble Greengrass, started to push back, he soon fell ill and died.
After the death of Kebble Greengrass, Bell Silverstone pushed the halflings to name the old rogue Lowhill Highvalley as their new village elder. But he was the leader in name only. As Bell made all the final decisions. This state of affairs continued for about forty years. But eventually things changed. A group of adventurers rose to the occasion of cleaning up the local bandit problem. Most of Bell’s bandits were killed, but some, including Lowhill Highvalley managed to get away. Bell herself escaped as well, with some hastily grabbed treasure and a few scars on her back, arms and legs.
Bell was now 120 and felt like it was time to pick out her adult name. She chose the name Læna. Læna Silverstone reflected on her past and decided that conventional weaponry was no longer going to cut it. While she was in no way a dumb child, she did not care to take the time to learn magic on her own. Among the treasures she had been able to smuggle out during her escape from the adventurers was a scroll that she believed to be able to summon a powerful fiend. Intending to use this scroll to forge a pact with said fiend for power, she performed the ritual. There was however a surprise awaiting her. What she summoned was a celestial. An angel of the Raven Queen named Vasael. Vasael saw an opportunity and took it. The angel intended to enlist the elf as a bridge into the material plane to aid the new champion of the Raven Queen. She forced Læna into a pact and ordered her to hone her new given skills for the forces of good.
When Læna was ready, it was too late though. The planned Champion had fallen from grace and Vasael decided to send Læna home instead. Læna took back her old family name, Læna Galanodel, and returned to house Leveilleur. She was taken back in with open arms by her father and mother. Her sisters, Vell and Dell, who now had the adult names Aranee and Theren respectively, had grown into their roles as servants of house Leveilleur without problem. Not knowing about their daughter’s violent past, her parents pushed her into serving the knightly house as well.
Læna was taken to the Leveilleur family and presented to the leaders of the house on the day a fresh young paladin was sworn into their role. Vasael sensed this as an opportunity and pushed Læna to request to become the young girl’s squire. Showing her skill with divine support magic, and the fact that her family had long been faithful servants of the house, the Leveilleurs agreed. So as Alisaie Leveilleur was sworn in, she was given Læna Galanodel as her personal squire. Læna would continue to serve the young girl faithfully, and even grew to like the girl, despite her sour disposition. And when the paladin was appointed as bodyguard for a girl from house Fortemps, Læna followed. Though one day, Læna was send away for something stupid. To deliver a letter to the young paladin’s mother. While Læna was away, fate struck and Alisaie lost the life of her charge. The paladin would seek the path of redemption, and though Læna seemingly did not have to follow, she did so anyway. Sticking to Little Aly even closer as before.
I've seen a ton of backstories, so I'll post mind as well. For context, who "anni" is now is a blind halfing wizard who loves fire. :) IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS PLEASE LMK! and please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes, I'm not the best with english.
Venyra (Vin-EAR-e-UH) Alor (Ale-LORE)was born 1887, about 1200 years after the fall of Maladuraa and the Great War. She was born in the race of Fey’Ri, a more or less unknown race. It was rumored that the Fey’ri was created when a demon and an elf had a child. Of course, as these rumors grew the Fey’Ri were a disgrace to the Elven race. So whenever a Fey’Ri was seen, born, child or adult, they’d be attacked or shunned. This usually leads Fey’Ri to leave the village, town, or city they were born in to escape the discrimantion they were brought up with. But, after years, Fey’Ri had the ability to change their form, that being able to disguise themselves as elves for as long as they liked, for all of their life if they so pleased.
Venyra was the daughter of a mother Fey’Ri named Enra (E-na-rUH) Alor and male elf named Herren (HAIR-n) Haveril (Hav-e-r-ILL). Enra was a beautiful woman, in her ‘elven’ form, she had white flowy hair, and delicate amber eyes. But in her Fey’Ri form, had two sets of horns that curled back from her head, outlining her head like a crown. Her skin is paler, and her eyes a sickening white color. While her fully elven father had long, braided black hair, and cold, harsh eyes.
Herren wasn’t aware that Enra was a Fey’Ri, the snob of a man would have thrown her out in a heartbeat if he knew. Herren was in no means a noble man, but he was a respected merchant. And if his customers knew that he bedded a ‘demon’, his business would be ruined. And to this man? His work was everything. His family was nothing when compared.
Venyra inherited her mothers white hair, and her delicate features. Though her eyes were a silver like color. A bold sign of her Fey’Ri heriaged. Although it was known elves sometimes sprouted unnatural eye colors and hair colors, so no one but Enra was any the wiser. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1688918598479266/)
For the first decade or so, Venyra was treated like a normal elf child. Taught, scolded, praised, and loved. But when she turned 15, her true Fey’Ri traits began to show. She began to grow two pairs of horns, the type her mother had. Her skin began to grow lighter into a gray muddy color, her hair becoming a silvery color, and her eyes began to turn a bright golden like color. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/743727325972475353/) Enra was terrified, of course, not of her daughter. Enra was the same as her daughter, but Enra knew it took ages to learn how to keep a Fey’Ri form hidden. She panicked, how was she going to hide this from her husband? He’d surely kill her and her child.
Her fears, gods above, were true.
One night, Venyra, Enra, and Herren were eating dinner at the table as they usually did, a storm roaring outside. Lightning flashing through the lowly dimmed kitchen, as the wind howled past and battered the sides of the windows. Herren looked at his plate, he had been wondering for a while why his child had been becoming sick, paler skin, and eyes losing their usual coloring.
“Venyra, tell me, child. You’ve been looking sickly lately. And I can not afford my customers getting sick because my child is. Do I need to send you off to a doctor?” The harsh toned man had spoken.
“She’s fine, darling. Must just not be eating enough, right Venyra?” The panicked voice, mother spoke.
“Shut it women, let the child speak for herself,”
Of course, Venyra didn’t know what to do, or what to say. By then, the horns Venyra had been trying to hide had grown enough to small bumps. In a panic, she tried to begin to speak out.
Venyra had always been a shy child, never allowed to go outside much and to talk to the other children, she had grown scared of anything that had laid outside. Why? The lies and stories her mother had whispered to her to keep her safe inside the house. The smallest creak of the wood could lead her to jump, to whimper in fear
So the next events were nothing but predictable.
A loud clap of thunder was heard, and Venyra yelped out, two pairs of large, black feathered lined wings shot through her back. Skin tearing in the process, and pain shooting down her back. The pain spider-webbing all throughout her body, making her choke out in shock.
Enra screamed out in terror, as Herren had grabbed his sword.
“YOU *****! ARE YOU A DEMON?! YOU *****! I'M RUINED! RUINED!” Herren screamed in rage.
Enra, showing her true form to her husband, before he roared out in anger. Charging, and diving his sword into the heart of his wife. Pushing down with both of his hands, blood dripping.
Fear, terror, and utter despair pained through Venyra’s chest. She had caused her mothers death. Was she a demon like her father had screamed? What had she done? What had she done?
Her father had pulled the sword out of her mothers chest, the body limply falling to the ground with a deafening thud. As he slowly turned to the frightened, shaking form of Venyra. The sword raised, chest heaving up and down. The utter disgust, and anger in her fathers eyes were enough to make her knees shake. She was about to die. And she was powerless.
She knew what she had to do, without thinking, Venyra turned, and ran with all her might. Slamming open the door, and stumbling out in the storm filled night. Stumbling over her large wings as the wind threatened to blow her away. Terror shooting through her as the sights of her dead mother went through her mind. You know, just edgy shit nick :) enjoying the story? No? Shame too bad. There's still more.
She ran, and ran, and ran, going through the twists and turns of the unfamiliar town she had called home. Mud collects at the edge of her pants, weighing her down greatly. The large feather wings soaked, as if she was now carrying 50 pounds of useless flesh on her back.
The town was too confusing for her to try and navigate from, and she knew even if her father didn’t kill her, she’d die from starvation or less pleasant people. What was she to do? She didn’t want to fall to the hands of her godforsaken father. Gods above, she was 15 and still had no idea if there was a tavern or inn to stay in, in her town.
Her back hurt, her heart stung. She wanted to sleep. Finding nearby shelter in a random ally way, she fell into a deep slumber.
Venyra spent the decades of her life wandering the world, leaving the town she second she had woken up in her teenage days. She met many people, halfings, gnomes, dwarfs, humans, and so many more. She learned how to use her wings, being able to fly for the utmost of a minute.
Wanting to no longer be powerless, she learned the way of the sword. Training with nothing but an old, cracked and broken blade she has found, and nearby trees that were unlucky enough to become her training dummy.
When she ran into any monster, beast, what have you, she could at least hold her own until she had to spread her wings and fly. But a little under half of the time, she was able to hold her own and kill whatever beast dared to attack her. She had grown confidence, but she knew better than to let that confidence consume her mind. She had vowed that she’d never give into greed, or into her own desires and become like her father was. She would protect the ones who could not protect themselves. She would not become hateful, she would not become distasteful, she would not become a *****.
She would not be labeled a ‘demon’ as her father had called her.
And for a few centuries, that is what she did. Traveling town to town, helping in small and big ways. Sending letters, helping tend to gardens, fighting off stray beasts that had come too close to town, going into dangerous caverns to clean them out so a nearby town was safe. Any and all she could possibly do.
After all the years of fighting, she dabbled in the Arcane, but never found the spark in it as she did with fighting steel with steel. Hence why she only used Arcane type methods when she was back into a corner, or needed a distraction.
All until she met a fellow Fey’Ri, named Vulmar Krisydark. He was a Fey’Ri with dark hair, and lighter colored eyes. The exact color? Forgotten with time. Venrya had met this fellow Fey’Ri because of a job she had accepted. Both Venyra and him were to go and investigate an alarming rate of missing children.
At first, Venyra wasn’t too fond of him. The last Fey’Ri she had known was her mother. And as last she saw her, she died. She didn’t want to try to become friendly with her kind. Her own kind seemed like a bad omen, a bad charm. So when she learned she had this job with him, she promised herself she’d keep the conversation small. She did not want to become attached, nor form any type of friendship.
Yeah, the exact opposite happened. During the mission, the high stakes, and the tension, she learned that the Fey'Ri was a more or less okay man. Vulmar was quick to befriend Venyra, happy of course to see a fellow Fey’Ri that was so open to showing their normal form.
After deciding that the two were a great team, they did a few more missions together. Small, or large, calm or stressful, they did quite a bit together.
And as usual cliche shit goes, yeah they married blah blah im not typing all that out. Sooner or later, they two of them had a few kids again blah blah BLAHHHHHHHHHHH the end is almost near!
They had two sons and a daughter, Elakas, Qinren, and the girl named Magra. Venyra loved her children, and her husband quite a lot. She did all she could to protect them, vowing she’d not keep her children in a cage like her mother did. To not judge them like her father did.
Venyra and Vulmar had settled her family down in a small village, one of which they have done a dozen or so missions and quests in. So the townspeople may be distant, but not violent or judgemental in any way. Of course, that was very important to Venyra to make sure of. The last thing she wants is a repeat of what happened to her when she was a child. Life was peaceful, life was happy, filled with laughter and joy.
All until it wasn’t.
A creature, TO NICKS CHOICE OF WHAT AND WHO THE **** IT WAS BC HEY UR THE DM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (forgotton to even venyra at the time aka my excuse) large, terrifying and all destroying. It left the town in ruins, left corpses on the ground like litter, and families crumbled like gravel. Venyra fought back with Vulmer all she could, experience being her greatest strength.
Yet her family being her greatest weakness. She did all she could to protect them. And unlike other times, she could not run to save herself. She had too much love, too much attachment. She had to protect them with all she had. And so, that is what she did.
All until she once again could not. With the fighting for hours, with the exhaustion of using her wings, all the magic she could muster. She couldn’t lift her sword anymore, and so, the beast grabbed her daughter, Marga,
Venyra screamed out, despair filling through her. Her arms stinging, her wings aching, out of energy for any magic, and her sword tip limpy pierced into the ground. She was desperate to keep her family safe. The hell with her own life, her family meant everything to her.
And so, Venyra learned the creature's true purpose. Yeah no more detail i'm tired and wanna give u at least a day to read this before the next session. It wanted to strike a deal with someone powerful, to take their physical life force and add it to herself. To keep their life for as long as they can, by stealing the years left of others. It spoke, the harsh, rough tone of the creature enough to make her shake.
It spoke to her to make a deal with it, to allow it to take a “tiny, such a small amount of your life force…you won’t even notice it’s gone. And I promise, i'll leave your family, and town alone for the rest of the life you have left.”
Venyra was in no way naive, she knew she would, hell she WAS being taken advantage of. But what else could she do? She would not abandon her family, and so, that is what she did.
She struck a deal, and when the creature seemed satisfied, it dropped Venyras daughter. Making slow, terrifying steps closer to Venyra. Reaching out its hand, awaiting a hand shake. Venyra slowly reached her hand over, and shook it. The creature gave a large grin, then crushed her hand. Pain shot up her arm, before she felt herself become weak, dizzy. She knew she had made a grave mistake, as soon as her head slammed to the ground.
Her vision blurred in and out, her family in and out of her view.
“You’re a damned fool.” It spoke out, glancing down at Venyra as it walked to her family. “Until I die, you will not awaken. And since I have, give or take another 600, or 2,000 from your amazing kids here. I won’t ever be dying.” The humorless laugh rippled through the creature.
“Nighty nighty, mortal.”
The last thing she heard before she fell into the eternal hands of her slumber was the screaming of her children.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
...Why. why did I pick up the dice I HAVE SO MUCH DICE PLEASE IM BROKE HELP ME
My group just started Rime of the Frostmaiden. I let everyone pick classes first and we needed a healer spot, so I am trying a priest out for the first time. I chose a twilight cleric and this is the little tidbit the DM gave me. (I guess in Rime all the characters get a little plot hook) It is pretty crazy. This is the plot tidbit:
Escaped Prisoner:
I was brought here from another world by spacefaring mind flayers. The ship in which I was imprisoned crashed in the mountains south of ten towns.
I made my backstory into a series of short videos on youtube. I thought I came up with a pretty good way of weaving it all together.
It all began in the medium autumn of Elanorela's hometown, where she (and her friends) signed up to go to their local wizarding college, Mors Scientiae, a school of almost all types of wizards. Originally, Elanorela signed up to just differ from her parent's dull lives of being farmers and stonemasons, but, luckily enough, after the gnome graduated, she was elected to be of the King's High Royal Wizards.
Only 9 magical users, one for each different school and a specialized head of the team, had the final decision on everything the King's army planned. Elanorela enjoyed each of her companions but most especially admired and idolized her Kalashtar captain; Rhequin. Or Rae, for short. The gnome adored everything about him, his shining, velvet hair, his eagerness to 'fight against evil' and 'purge into unknown'. He was such an inspiration to Elanorela, that she even dyed her hair a dark, crimson red, claiming it was a 'triple dragon dare' from one of her friends.
A few months later, Elanorela and her group stayed as Royal Wizards for the Highness of her hometown. She and the others were considered heroes and heroines in the surrounding villages and towns. They'd be hailed almost as much as the King and Queen themselves.
Until one day...
Elanorela was wondering about the halls, commanded by Rae to get out and explore the castle more instead of reading and writing scriptures until she came across a hefty, iron door. It was like no other door in the castle but, it was still openable with a simple Knock spell. The door was creaked open, only a small study sheltered itself in the stone brick room. With only mere glances, Elanorela couldn't seem to tell any secret compartments but there was one thing she saw. A small piece of parchment on the wooden desk, read;
Dear Bardok,
I wrote this letter to thank you millions, that extra transport of slaves helped the workload here. Concerning our alliance, I wish to keep this a little secret between you and me.
The letter had much more on it, but Elanorela was in so much shock. Bardok? The man who tarnished the most glorious, hanged the most innocent and awarded torture to the most gentle? There ... there was no possible way that the humble king would be in such a scandal, right?
She retreated to the iron entrance, about to run away; far, far away; Until a swift staff slammed her face and her body downward to the floor.
The gnome woke up, a group of yellow-dressed monks surrounding her, asking her many questions. Who was she? How was she? She knew her name, Elanorela, but she did not remember anything else.
All her wizarding friends, that cursed letter, her parents, and even Rae; Gone.
She ... or Elanorela got up. The people around her spiraled with questions; She retorted with a more simple inquiry;
"Are you lot ... Monks?"
It only made sense, she only just realized they were in a Monostary-looking ... place, with Monk-ish people. They all nodded their heads, almost in a discipled unison. They helped the young gnome up and invited her to join their guild of monks.
A couple of months later and she was off put, almost. No amount of trying and training could make her truly learn more about the Monk Lifestyle; She only knew some book tequiniques and ones that were taught extensively to her
Until she finally opened her mind one faithful day. Elanorela, training with the peers, found a great surge of energy trying to argue about the myths of the Feywild and accidently casted Fire Bolt in the more heated parts of the discussion targeted toward one of the training dummies. Everyone there was stalled by the portrayal as the head of the village hollared the gnomes name immediately. Elanorela was watching a diatribe unfold as her master berated her and warned against any attempt to learn of perform magic. As her punishment, she would be sent away on a spiritual journey were she really, REALLY 'found' herself.
She found the rest of the party on this path of guidance and the rest is truly history.
So yeah, that's my character. If you wish to view the actual character, the link is right here. Any feedback and/or comment is very much appreciated!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Imagine nerfing wizards so they can't cast ritual spells even if they don't have the prepared AND making it so they can't change their spells after every long rest. Oh yeah, that's my DM..."
- Elanorela, the Gnome Monk (Mercy) Wizard (Bladesinger) with a base AC of 17
"I wanted to say I told you so, but my god wouldn't allow it..."
- Sebastian, the Half-Elf Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline) that is the victim of many 7 damage attacks. (His max HP is, you guessed it, 7)
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Kalvar, Half-orc Cleric 3/Barbarian 3
Kalvar was an adventurer in his younger days, traveling with a group of glorified heroes who traveled between towns, killing small time nuisances and taking as much money as they could for their service. They enjoyed fame for a while but Kalvar began to grow tired of the violence and the way they played off the fears of these rural peasants for money, so he left the group. He became an inkeeper on the edges of society, catering mostly to adventurers and traveling merchants. He married a human woman, and had a daughter name Astra. Kalvar didn't look fondly on his younger days, but was optimistic with treating adventurers and those traveling through with a good time and with good food. One afternoon, a rowdy young group of adventurers swept through his tavern, getting drunk and disturbing his other guests. He threw them out of the tavern with a bit of struggle, banning them from the place. That night, they returned, intending to teach him a lesson, and set fire to his tavern. The blaze quickly spread out of control, and Kalvar flew at the unwanted company with rage, killing one of them in his fury and scaring the others off. He snapped out of his tirade as he saw his daughter on the stair, watching. Mournful he scooped her up and fled to retrieve his wife and escape the burning building. However the place began to come down, and his wife was trapped in her room. She died in the blaze, as Kalvar and his daughter narrowly escaped. Kalvar faced charges after the accident for the murder of the adventurer, and was thrown in prison for several years. He got time off for good behavior, and was discharged early, but lost his daughter in the process, who abandoned him as a murderer and a coward. She left to go study as an apprentice to a wizard, while Kalvar was left alone in the world. His first night out of jail, sleeping in a musty roadside tavern, he was confronted by the god of honor and justice, Taln, who came to him in a dream. Taln convinced him to make something with his life, to harness his rage into form and fight as his champion. He assured Kalvar that although he had a long way to go, and the journey would not be easy, that there was a way to cope with the suffering he had endured. He could fight with a purpose, for something worth fighting for. Kalvar took several days preparing, first offering prayers to Taln, then getting his old gear and hitting the road, journeying under Taln's guidance wherever the winds take him, searching for a cause worth fighting for, and people to fight alongside.
Stats
Strength 20, Dex 15, Con 17
Kalvar is about 40, middle age but getting older, yet still possesses the strength granted by his orc blood. He fights with great strength and fury, struggling to bottle his rage and fight with control. His order as a cleric is his duty to his god, but he still keeps the strength and power from his adventuring days in his toolbox, so to speak.
Int 9, Wis 17, Cha 10
Kalvar has left behind the rage and arrogance of his younger days. He feels no particular disdain towards adventurers, but seeks to keep that part of his life a secret. He isn't the sharpest in mind, but has a sort of quiet wisdom that comes from someone who was once very foolish and yet seeks to make better of his past mistakes. Despite his orcish nature he is very gentle and likeable, and still has many of the skills he used in bartending. He seeks to follow Taln where the path takes him, and yet also to be reunited with his daughter, and reconcile with her. He still pays for her tuition as an apprentice, which she accepts, although she still treats him coldly and has not forgiven him, only remembering the father who left her behind and got her mother killed.
Updog
My character's name is Taryn Tsergoth, and here's his tragic tale...........
Taryn Tsergoth is a 16-year-old rogue with a sad life. He used to live in an idyllic village with his parents, Marken and Anaea. However, when Taryn was only three, a nefarious cult of Golyn, the Fiery Mouth, arrived in Taryn's village. And they, you guessed it, killed his parents. He was taken to the capital of Aradyr: the city of Halberd, to live with his uncle Dustwyn. However, Dustwyn had a disease, and after only a year with Taryn, he died too. Taryn was left alone on the streets, and he was forced to fend for himself. So, there he stayed for 10 years, a street urchin who slowly developed necessary skills by evading the city watch. Then, everything changed when he met a kind elf wizard named Aelar with a fear of owlbears. They adventured together for a couple years, and eventually parted after finally finding the Golden Duck. Now, Taryn is a clever rogue for hire, who seeks revenge on the cult of Golyn.
Note: This guy is made for my custom world, Azabas. Sorry.
I am an Arachpriest, Cat Cultist, Sauce Monk, Angel of Death, and First Spinjitzu Master.
I play Thirteen the necromancer elf, Timber the tabaxi child, and more at the tavern. Hope you like yams!
Oh yeah, don't forget to be kind and loving and stuff. Not on during weekends.
Never heard of a Kenku fighter before. Sounds cool. I feel like roleplay gets way harder with adding the beak being shut, on top of kenku already having very limited communication. How do you/you Dm rule it/roleplay it?
Updog
It is an NPC for a DM to use, not a PC. It can be used for any purpose as just some incidental flavor or as a tagalong with an adventuring party or as part of a goal for one of the campaign tasks or whatever; to be used as much or as little as desired. I included it here because the thread did not specify that it was only for player characters.
Human. Male. Possibly. Don't be a divider.
My characters' backgrounds are written like instruction manuals rather than stories. My opinion and preferences don't mean you're wrong.
I am 99.7603% convinced that the digital dice are messing with me. I roll high when nobody's looking and low when anyone else can see.🎲
“It's a bit early to be thinking about an epitaph. No?” will be my epitaph.
I gotcha. Just wondered. I still like the idea. I definitely think you have more breathing room in making an npc than a pc. pc's require a bit more spotlight capability, whereas npc's can be loveable, hateable, outgoing, or really any way you want. There's more space to be creative because they're not in the game every single moment, whereas pc's are. Because of that I've always like Kenku better as npc's rather than pc's. There's so much controversy on how to play them, and it's a lot of hassle. I would like to play one some day though....
Updog
My wood elf assassin rogue, Adlin. (I started with a vague idea, then I rolled on the life events table in Xanthar's Guide to Everything. It was crazy. Whenever I insert a *, it was decreed by the table.)
Born as a slave to a lord, he and his brothers and sister were not like other elves. Angry and hateful. After escaping from a cruel master, and swearing to free his three siblings, he travelled days to the nearest city. Bewildered by diversity and having no idea where to start, he was picked up like a lost puppy by a local thieve's guild. He was taught in the black arts of assassination at age 16, and his first victim was a thief turned good. After a few years, he set off to free his siblings with his thieve's tools. When he arrived, he found, to his dismay, that the manor had been destroyed in an orc raid. No one survived.*(I landed three times on the tragic events table) Crazed with grief, he searched for bodies in the ruins and found three small and slight skeletons. He buried the bones. His last family gone, Adlin returned to the city, to find that the guild had been crippled. He didn't care. He felt so... empty. People looked at him in pity, for they saw a great sadness. He couldn't bear it. Blaming himself, he travelled far and wide. But wherever he went, he saw his sibling's empty eyes. That was when things took a turn. He befriended a retired soldier, who told him to join the city militia. After a few months of resisting, Adlin eventually gave in. He was astonished at the comradeship between soldiers, the heartiness, the warm glow of friendship, and he was content for the first time in years. Adlin found people who needed him, people who didn't care about his pointed ears, nor the sadness that permeated him. He could stop people from going through the same hardships as he had gone. He had let go of the guilt, the pain. That was when disaster struck. He was on patrol when they were ambushed by three times their number of bugbears. They didn't stand a chance. Comrades dying around him, he fought. Struck by a dozen wounds,, he found himself the last of the patrol standing. The screams of his comrades in arms will forever invade his dreams, his nightmares.* Then he was buried under the bodies of his foes. Waking, in the morning, he found the surviving bugbears gone. Bathing his wounds, Adlin looked at himself in the reflection of the pond. A terribly scarred face looked back at him, one eye forever grey, forever unseeing. Limping back to his city, he tried to shake the screams out of his head. He had learnt not to take the guilt, but to get rid of the screams was another thing. The lord of the city had taken a personal interest in Adlin, and when Adlin asked to retire, the lord asked him to move into the lord's manor. Politely declining, he practised the art of dual-wielding rapiers to fill in empty hours at the barracks. But now wanderlust had caught up to him, and he started adventuring. He joined a group of adventurers and fell in love with a wood elf ranger. But happiness was short-lived, and the village where they were staying was attacked by a huge tribe of orcs that had been sacking towns. In the fight that followed, the wood elf ranger was killed,* and in the ensuing rage, Adlin lost an ear and two fingers along with grievous wounds.* Even more scarred than before, Adlin went into a fit of grief, and, after burning the adventurer's bodies, he vowed to never rest while evil abides.
And remember, it was not me, it was the dice. I haven't fallen into the trap of making a dark character. Adlin's personality isn't dark, it is stoic, straightforward( With an intelligence score of 9), sensible, and kindly, a typical ex-soldier ex-criminal. By the way, he is 113 years old, and I am 13 years old. I'm wanting to multiclass into Battle Master fighter. Strength 11, Dexterity 19, Constitution 15, Intelligence 9, Wisdom 15, Charisma 12.
Chaotic good, flaw "My hatred of my enemies is blind and unreasoning."
“Never laugh at live dragons.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
Never has truer words been said. From very personal experience.
One of my groups is starting a homebrew mini campaign soon that I'm very excited about! The setting is basically Forgotten Realms meets Mad Max. My character is Désiré "Dizzy" Moreau, dhampir bard.
"Dizzy was born in the settlement of Salvation, a remote outpost in the Wastes that's home to a unique religious community. The inhabitants of Salvation form the Church of the Dawnbringer, their name for a version of the sun god Pelor. The Church believes that the fall of civilization was a divine punishment for the wickedness of mortals, and that one day Pelor will return to the material plane, punishing evildoers and bringing a new age of prosperity for the faithful. To that end, members of the Church lead puritanical lives of work and worship, hoping to prove themselves worthy of being saved.
Dizzy stood out almost from birth, not just because they look very different from their fair complected family. Dizzy was naturally unruly - loud, factious, and energetic. He chafed against the constraints of Salvation's austere culture, constantly fighting with his parents, and everyone else for that matter. Their only ally was their younger sister Azélie, whom they love more than anything.
Dizzy was different in other, darker ways as well. They had bursts of rage that seemingly came from nowhere, and disturbing violent dreams. His parents feared this was a sign of some sinister corruption. They were proved right when Dizzy was badly injured in a bandit attack on Salvation. The near death experience triggered their family's unknown vampiric heritage, and Dizzy became a dhampir.
Shortly after, Dizzy left Salvation for the isolation of the Wastes, where they could safely learn to control their new hunger for mortal blood. Save for Azélie, no one was sorry to see them go."
Nikolai Buckman | vampire | bard
Solace Redgrove | tiefling | bard
my Dragonborn Kilvorth comes from a big family and studied at srixhaven . he found out his brother was evil and had to kill him
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
I'm a Tortle bard that drinks soup from the hole in his lute.
sounds like a interesting character
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
My most recent character creation is a path of the beast barbarian named Malth Borla, in a Norse themed world. He is a variant human who was once a violent, territorial bear in the forest near a village. There was a woman i nthe village who was the only one who didn't fear him, and he fell in love with her, and she tamed his heart. He became known as Malth Borla, or "Old Bear" in dwarven. One day, the village was attacked by orc raiders and Malth thundered out to meet them, to try and save the village. The Old Bear felled many Orcs, but was bested and fell in battle. He awoke beside an old man with one eye, who told him in words he somehow understood that he had shown great courage and died in battle, but the soul of a beast cannot go to valhalla, no matter how deserving. Odin resurrected Malth as a man, so that he could have another chance to live well and die in battle, to join him in Valhalla as a man.
Malth is a gentle giant, unkempt but polite and slow, and he enjoys telling stories for people and hearing new ones. he makes toys for children, and defends the villages in the area from the vampires who live nearby. When he rages, the transformation Odin put on him flickers and he regains some of his animalistic traits, much to his enemies dismay. He wields a staff made from a tree from his woods, ripped from the ground and found to have its roots wrapped around a stone, as a maul. He's neutral good, and acts in a very paladin-like manner, though he's not officially one.
Make your Artificer work with any other class with 174 Multiclassing Feats for your Artificer Multiclass Character!
DM's Guild Releases on This Thread Or check them all out on DMs Guild!
DrivethruRPG Releases on This Thread - latest release: My Character is a Werewolf: balanced rules for Lycanthropy!
I have started discussing/reviewing 3rd party D&D content on Substack - stay tuned for semi-regular posts!
Theodore was the only child of Rowena d'Ghallanda-Worthy and her husband Percival d'Ghallanda-Worthy. He grew up with all the comforts and luxuries a young halfling could want, being a member of House Ghallanda, especially one as fortunate to have been born with the Mark of Hospitality, just like his father, Percival.
His mother, Rowena, owned and co-managed a beautiful tavern on the outskirts of the Gatherhold called The Golden Fire Hearth. Percival worked in the tavern as the Barkeeper and Co-Manager, using the powers of his Dragonmark to help Rowena provide an experience that rivaled that of the Ghallanda Enclaves.
Theodore spent all the time he could with his parents, learning how to run the business and helping as much as he could. His father showed him the way around the kitchen and tavern floor, and how to properly plate and serve, eventually teaching him to tend the bar when he was old enough. His mother taught him how to manage the day to day operations and handle the accounting. It never mattered how busy things got in the tavern, they always had time for Theo.
Although the tavern wasn't meant to serve as an Inn, they did have a few extra rooms with some basic comforts they would rent on occasion if anybody needed a place to sleep off the night before. The rooms were only set up because his parents would have family staying with them when they needed a neutral space. Theo's favorite uncle, Ulysses d'Ghallanda, would often stop in for a night or two when he was passing through with the Wandering Inn caravans. Ulysses would spend countless hours at night telling Theo the stories of all the different peoples he'd met across the world. Theo wanted more than anything to go out and see the world. It became a dream of his to follow in the footsteps of his parents, and his uncle, and try to provide a neutral space, outside of the Ghallanda controlled Wandering Inn, to rest and find a drink and a warm meal out on a long road. He made his uncle Ulysses teach him how to drive a carriage as soon as he was old enough so he could have his own Traveling Tavern one day.
Over the years, Theo had come to know most of the regulars quite well, some were almost like family. When he was younger, he made lots of friends among the kids that would come through, but before long, several of his friends began leaving home for promise of adventure and fortune. Some never returned, but those that did often came with extraordinary stories, and occasionally even great riches. Theo listened to these stories for many years, and he decided to start saving some coin for his own adventure. His parents paid him well for his work in the tavern and let him keep all the tips that came in while he was working, and with all that he managed to put away 2-3 gold every week for a little over a year and a half.
He was getting close to saving up 200 gold, and he was sitting upstairs in his room counting it one day when one of the coins caught the light and for just a moment he caught a glimpse of a glowing golden horse right outside the window. Much to his surprise, when he looked up there was just a regular, palomino horse standing in the middle of the road with no reins or hitching to keep it from running off, so he quickly ran downstairs and outside to see who it belonged to. He rushed down the stairs, passed his parents with a quick hug and kiss, and ran through the door to see the horse beginning to take off towards the woods. He grabbed a rope and started running after it as quick as his little halfling legs could carry him. Although the horse was obviously moving faster than him, it somehow never made it out of his sight and he kept up with it for a few miles before it finally leapt over a fence and disappeared into a stable.
Theo followed along the fence until he came upon a large sign, hanging a short way up the road from a beautiful two-story house. The sign looked like a large coin with a woman's face carved from a slab of wood and painted gold. It had a Golden plaque at the bottom that read "The Merchant's Friend Wheelwright." As Theo got close enough to read the sign a voice called out from the house to ask him if he needed assistance. He was approached and greeted by a tall, surprisingly well-adorned figure who said she would like to offer him a deal, if he was willing to part with a fair sum of gold.
Stunned to silence by the strange series of events that led him here, he fumbled for the words to say, and suddenly his mouth seemed to move without his effort, making words before he thought them. He began negotiating the prices of a wagon and two horses with the wheelwright, with her eventually conceding at the price of the horses, 100 gold, with the wagon as a gift, telling him that he would surely need it where he was going, and that it had been too long since she got to negotiate, and it was her pleasure.
He counted out her gold and handed it to her and she dipped briefly into the house. She emerged with a small pouch insisting he had overpaid her by 15 gold and handed him the pouch. He opened the pouch and inside were indeed 15 gold coins, but they looked exactly like the one on the sign, with the face of the woman he was just negotiating with stamped onto them. He looked up and the woman was gone, as was the house, the fence, and the stable that were all previously in front of him. Were it not for the coins in his hand he'd be sure he'd gone mad. He turned to look for the sign and in its place stood only a wagon with two draft horses, exactly what he had paid for.
After taking a few minutes to collect his bearings and come back to himself, Theo approached the horses and introduced himself before he climbed up the wagon to inspect it. The wagon was very simple, but extremely well crafted. It had all the necessary comforts of a luxury carriage with the simple adornments of a common wagon. The horses were both solid colored, one silver and one chestnut. He wasn't sure how, but he seemed to know the horses names were Silver and Copper without having to think about it. As he said their names, they seemed to acknowledge him, with an awareness and intelligence uncommon amongst horses.Night began closing in, so he took the reins and directed the horses a few miles up the road around the woods he'd run through to make it to the wheelwrights, back towards home.
Once he made it home, Theo's parents greeted him at the door with dinner, and asked him why he ran off in such a hurry. He sat down and explained what he had been through and even showed them the gold coins, which now seemed to faintly pulse with energy. He talked with them about it some more over dinner and when he mentioned the name, The Merchant's Friend Wheelwright, his father gasps and exclaims that Theo's been blessed by the goddess Waukeen. He brought out some books on her for Theo and they spent the whole night celebrating his good fortune and invited all of their regulars, family, and friends. After some long consideration, Theo told his parents he was going to set out on his journey to pursue his dreams under his own name, Theodore Goldworthy.
They were immensely proud of the son they had raised, and they showed as much. They struggled to keep back tears, but Percival made plenty of meals for Theo to take to start his journey, as well as his recipe book he had been writing for Theo. Rowena helped Theo get supplies together to start his journey. He used most of the gold he had left to get the supplies he would need to keep himself alive out on the road.
A week of shopping and stocking later, he was ready to head out and was telling his parents goodbye when he saw the palomino horse off in the distance again. He kissed his mom on the cheek, hugged his dad, and ran off with a quick goodbye. He hopped in the seat, grabbed the reins, and took off in pursuit of Gold once again.
Theodore Goldworthy (formerly Ghallanda)
Its nothing great, but be kind please.
Eldrin Bellas
Race: Dark Elf
Class: Rogue
Age: 375
Features: short cut mohawk, white hair, red eyes, obsidian skin, 3rd degree burns scars on right side of head, upper torso, and hands, scrawny build.
Likes: Fire, Alcohol, Gold, and Dwarves.
Dislikes: Dark elves, Elves, Spiders, Lolth
Facts:
Is known as The Half-Cooked Drow, Lizardmen Line Recruiter, Greasy Dumpster Rogue
Eldrin Bellas not his real name. Got from dead adventurer
Pyromaniac with severe Arachnophobia
Drunk 50% of the time
Klepto
Once owned a tavern, "mysterious" fire claimed it
Good at black jack, by good I mean he cheats
Prefers diplomacy but will shank where shaking is needed
Paranoid of other gods
Here I have my dragonborn ranger, Revi. I'm relatively new to DnD lore and DnD in general (my first introduction campaign is this Thursday), so feedback/criticisms are welcome. ^^
Revira (or Revi, as she prefers being called) was born to the chieftain of the Seaver clan, a clan of dragonborn renowned for their hunting skills. As the only female and alongside her small size when compared to most dragonborn, Revi was looked down upon in favor of her brothers by her father, a famous hunter in the tribe. This outraged the young dragonborn, and determined to prove herself, Revi trained herself in the way of the ranger, becoming quite skilled with a bow while hunting in the nearby forests. What once started as scars and bruises slowly became trophies, such as wearing animals' pelts as clothes and adorning her shoulders with skulls.
However, just like in her youth, Revi's father only scoffed at her efforts. This continued on for quite some time until one day, he gave her a test - if she brought him the head of an orc, she would be fully accepted in his eyes. Blinded by her need to prove herself, Revi's hunt ultimately failed, resulting in a broken right horn alongside several other injuries. When she returned, as expected, her father chastised her, but in the midst of her scolding, Revi noticed something in his hut - what was once her father's bow was now a cobweb-covered decoration, most of the arrows in his quiver were missing, and what hunting trophies she remembered in her youth were old and covered in dust.
Hit by a sudden realization, Revi angrily interrupted her father - why didn't he go after the orc himself? Was it really because he wanted Revi to prove herself, or was it because he was too scared to do it himself? Furiously calling him a coward and a failed excuse for a hunter, Revi fired a single arrow at her father's chest, killing him instantly. Though her brothers and clan members were horrified, their reaction didn't matter to Revi, as she left without a second thought. Her life in her clan wasn't worth remembering, nor was proving herself to her father a priority anymore. Now, she lives life as a wanderer, and though she has no real goal or destination in mind, one thing Revi knows for sure - she's a damned good hunter, and no one can tell her otherwise.
^ @ChronoPhanthom.
For being new to dnd, that seriously isn't a bad backstory. Straight to the point with some details, its nice. If you wanted to have a whole essay that most players do to make dms cry, add emotions, descriptive writing, etc. BUT if you wanted it simple? You nailed it.
...Why. why did I pick up the dice I HAVE SO MUCH DICE PLEASE IM BROKE HELP ME
Name: Læna Galanodel (aka Bell Silverstone)
Class: Warlock (Celestial)
Race: High Elf
Patron: Vasael, angel of the Raven Queen
Additional references:
-Alisaie Leveilleur (High Elf Paladin) is another PC
-The Witchbe family is the family of fellow PC Malevolence Witchbe (Tiefling Sorcerer)
-The fallen champion of the Raven Queen is fellow PC Novah, who is the daughter of Vasael (Fallen Aasimar Hexblade)
Backstory:
More than a century ago, a high elf was born by the name Bell Galanodel. She was the youngest of three daughters made by Kandor and Frøya Galanodel. Kandor was the cook of house Leveilleur, a knightly house in service of the Fortemps, and Frøya was their gardener. Like elves do, they gave their children their child names: Vell, Dell and Bell. Vell was a great gardener like her mother and Dell a great cook like her father. But their youngest child, Bell, was different. She had fits of rage and tantrums and could neither grow plants or prepare dinner. Her parents and sisters tried their best to raise their daughter well and get her to accept her place and become a good servant to the house of Leveilleur. But nothing they did worked.
At the age of 42, Bell had had enough and she left her home. Not satisfied with her fate in life she headed out to explore the world. But the world was cruel and she managed to get herself captured by Orcs and would surely have been killed but for one trait. Bell was good at two things, absolute savagery and a fierce tongue. The orcs found her tantrums amusing and made her fight other captives, and over time she gained the trust of the small orc raiding party that had captured her. She fought alongside them, learning their language and goring their enemies with bow and sword. Until one night, when all her original capturers had died and after the orcish party had suffered severe losses. She slid the throats of the camp guards and fled.
Having spent nearly three decades with the orcs had forever changed her. It had brought out her worst qualities. Her rage and cruelty. Now entering her seventies she for the first time came upon a human settlement. She was welcomed warmly, since what did the humans have to fear from a single elf? A lot, it would turn out. Bell would ingratiate herself with a group of locals that were fed up with the mayor and learn their names, where they met, and what they talked about. After she had learned all she cared too, she went to the mayor and sold them out. The town imploded on itself and Bell left in the dead of night with a pouch of gold and a new identity. She had asked to be formally adopted by the mayor to get his last name and open doors. To which he had agreed. Her name was now Bell Silverstone.
It is under this name that she would start her career of banditry. Now 78 and running out of gold, Bell came upon a halfling village that was at the outskirts of the territory of the Witchbe family. Though they were intended to be independant and left alone, the Witchbe tax collectors did not agree with this and pressed the halflings for taxes that they could rarely afford. This is where Bell entered the village. At first just a kindly elf pretending to be there to help, she slowly rallied the halflings into a dangerous course. With the help of a local halfling rogue named Lowhill Highvalley, she learned their language and culture and integrated into their daily lives. She nudged and prodded the halflings into banditry. At first to pay the taxes forced upon them. They’d only take what they need, right? But then she pushed further and a greed rose among some of the halflings that she exploited. When the halfling elder, Kebble Greengrass, started to push back, he soon fell ill and died.
After the death of Kebble Greengrass, Bell Silverstone pushed the halflings to name the old rogue Lowhill Highvalley as their new village elder. But he was the leader in name only. As Bell made all the final decisions. This state of affairs continued for about forty years. But eventually things changed. A group of adventurers rose to the occasion of cleaning up the local bandit problem. Most of Bell’s bandits were killed, but some, including Lowhill Highvalley managed to get away. Bell herself escaped as well, with some hastily grabbed treasure and a few scars on her back, arms and legs.
Bell was now 120 and felt like it was time to pick out her adult name. She chose the name Læna. Læna Silverstone reflected on her past and decided that conventional weaponry was no longer going to cut it. While she was in no way a dumb child, she did not care to take the time to learn magic on her own. Among the treasures she had been able to smuggle out during her escape from the adventurers was a scroll that she believed to be able to summon a powerful fiend. Intending to use this scroll to forge a pact with said fiend for power, she performed the ritual. There was however a surprise awaiting her. What she summoned was a celestial. An angel of the Raven Queen named Vasael. Vasael saw an opportunity and took it. The angel intended to enlist the elf as a bridge into the material plane to aid the new champion of the Raven Queen. She forced Læna into a pact and ordered her to hone her new given skills for the forces of good.
When Læna was ready, it was too late though. The planned Champion had fallen from grace and Vasael decided to send Læna home instead. Læna took back her old family name, Læna Galanodel, and returned to house Leveilleur. She was taken back in with open arms by her father and mother. Her sisters, Vell and Dell, who now had the adult names Aranee and Theren respectively, had grown into their roles as servants of house Leveilleur without problem. Not knowing about their daughter’s violent past, her parents pushed her into serving the knightly house as well.
Læna was taken to the Leveilleur family and presented to the leaders of the house on the day a fresh young paladin was sworn into their role. Vasael sensed this as an opportunity and pushed Læna to request to become the young girl’s squire. Showing her skill with divine support magic, and the fact that her family had long been faithful servants of the house, the Leveilleurs agreed. So as Alisaie Leveilleur was sworn in, she was given Læna Galanodel as her personal squire.
Læna would continue to serve the young girl faithfully, and even grew to like the girl, despite her sour disposition. And when the paladin was appointed as bodyguard for a girl from house Fortemps, Læna followed. Though one day, Læna was send away for something stupid. To deliver a letter to the young paladin’s mother. While Læna was away, fate struck and Alisaie lost the life of her charge. The paladin would seek the path of redemption, and though Læna seemingly did not have to follow, she did so anyway. Sticking to Little Aly even closer as before.
I am also here.
Am snek.
This is really solid my dude! It has tension and drama, plus hooks for your dm to use later (the brothers). You did really well!
(in response to ChronoPhanthom)
I am also here.
Am snek.
I've seen a ton of backstories, so I'll post mind as well. For context, who "anni" is now is a blind halfing wizard who loves fire. :) IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS PLEASE LMK! and please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes, I'm not the best with english.
Venyra (Vin-EAR-e-UH) Alor (Ale-LORE)was born 1887, about 1200 years after the fall of Maladuraa and the Great War. She was born in the race of Fey’Ri, a more or less unknown race. It was rumored that the Fey’ri was created when a demon and an elf had a child. Of course, as these rumors grew the Fey’Ri were a disgrace to the Elven race. So whenever a Fey’Ri was seen, born, child or adult, they’d be attacked or shunned. This usually leads Fey’Ri to leave the village, town, or city they were born in to escape the discrimantion they were brought up with. But, after years, Fey’Ri had the ability to change their form, that being able to disguise themselves as elves for as long as they liked, for all of their life if they so pleased.
Venyra was the daughter of a mother Fey’Ri named Enra (E-na-rUH) Alor and male elf named Herren (HAIR-n) Haveril (Hav-e-r-ILL). Enra was a beautiful woman, in her ‘elven’ form, she had white flowy hair, and delicate amber eyes. But in her Fey’Ri form, had two sets of horns that curled back from her head, outlining her head like a crown. Her skin is paler, and her eyes a sickening white color. While her fully elven father had long, braided black hair, and cold, harsh eyes.
Herren wasn’t aware that Enra was a Fey’Ri, the snob of a man would have thrown her out in a heartbeat if he knew. Herren was in no means a noble man, but he was a respected merchant. And if his customers knew that he bedded a ‘demon’, his business would be ruined. And to this man? His work was everything. His family was nothing when compared.
Venyra inherited her mothers white hair, and her delicate features. Though her eyes were a silver like color. A bold sign of her Fey’Ri heriaged. Although it was known elves sometimes sprouted unnatural eye colors and hair colors, so no one but Enra was any the wiser. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1688918598479266/)
For the first decade or so, Venyra was treated like a normal elf child. Taught, scolded, praised, and loved. But when she turned 15, her true Fey’Ri traits began to show. She began to grow two pairs of horns, the type her mother had. Her skin began to grow lighter into a gray muddy color, her hair becoming a silvery color, and her eyes began to turn a bright golden like color. (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/743727325972475353/) Enra was terrified, of course, not of her daughter. Enra was the same as her daughter, but Enra knew it took ages to learn how to keep a Fey’Ri form hidden. She panicked, how was she going to hide this from her husband? He’d surely kill her and her child.
Her fears, gods above, were true.
One night, Venyra, Enra, and Herren were eating dinner at the table as they usually did, a storm roaring outside. Lightning flashing through the lowly dimmed kitchen, as the wind howled past and battered the sides of the windows. Herren looked at his plate, he had been wondering for a while why his child had been becoming sick, paler skin, and eyes losing their usual coloring.
“Venyra, tell me, child. You’ve been looking sickly lately. And I can not afford my customers getting sick because my child is. Do I need to send you off to a doctor?” The harsh toned man had spoken.
“She’s fine, darling. Must just not be eating enough, right Venyra?” The panicked voice, mother spoke.
“Shut it women, let the child speak for herself,”
Of course, Venyra didn’t know what to do, or what to say. By then, the horns Venyra had been trying to hide had grown enough to small bumps. In a panic, she tried to begin to speak out.
Venyra had always been a shy child, never allowed to go outside much and to talk to the other children, she had grown scared of anything that had laid outside. Why? The lies and stories her mother had whispered to her to keep her safe inside the house. The smallest creak of the wood could lead her to jump, to whimper in fear
So the next events were nothing but predictable.
A loud clap of thunder was heard, and Venyra yelped out, two pairs of large, black feathered lined wings shot through her back. Skin tearing in the process, and pain shooting down her back. The pain spider-webbing all throughout her body, making her choke out in shock.
Enra screamed out in terror, as Herren had grabbed his sword.
“YOU *****! ARE YOU A DEMON?! YOU *****! I'M RUINED! RUINED!” Herren screamed in rage.
Enra, showing her true form to her husband, before he roared out in anger. Charging, and diving his sword into the heart of his wife. Pushing down with both of his hands, blood dripping.
Fear, terror, and utter despair pained through Venyra’s chest. She had caused her mothers death. Was she a demon like her father had screamed? What had she done? What had she done?
Her father had pulled the sword out of her mothers chest, the body limply falling to the ground with a deafening thud. As he slowly turned to the frightened, shaking form of Venyra. The sword raised, chest heaving up and down. The utter disgust, and anger in her fathers eyes were enough to make her knees shake. She was about to die. And she was powerless.
She knew what she had to do, without thinking, Venyra turned, and ran with all her might. Slamming open the door, and stumbling out in the storm filled night. Stumbling over her large wings as the wind threatened to blow her away. Terror shooting through her as the sights of her dead mother went through her mind. You know, just edgy shit nick :) enjoying the story? No? Shame too bad. There's still more.
She ran, and ran, and ran, going through the twists and turns of the unfamiliar town she had called home. Mud collects at the edge of her pants, weighing her down greatly. The large feather wings soaked, as if she was now carrying 50 pounds of useless flesh on her back.
The town was too confusing for her to try and navigate from, and she knew even if her father didn’t kill her, she’d die from starvation or less pleasant people. What was she to do? She didn’t want to fall to the hands of her godforsaken father. Gods above, she was 15 and still had no idea if there was a tavern or inn to stay in, in her town.
Her back hurt, her heart stung. She wanted to sleep. Finding nearby shelter in a random ally way, she fell into a deep slumber.
Venyra spent the decades of her life wandering the world, leaving the town she second she had woken up in her teenage days. She met many people, halfings, gnomes, dwarfs, humans, and so many more. She learned how to use her wings, being able to fly for the utmost of a minute.
Wanting to no longer be powerless, she learned the way of the sword. Training with nothing but an old, cracked and broken blade she has found, and nearby trees that were unlucky enough to become her training dummy.
When she ran into any monster, beast, what have you, she could at least hold her own until she had to spread her wings and fly. But a little under half of the time, she was able to hold her own and kill whatever beast dared to attack her. She had grown confidence, but she knew better than to let that confidence consume her mind. She had vowed that she’d never give into greed, or into her own desires and become like her father was. She would protect the ones who could not protect themselves. She would not become hateful, she would not become distasteful, she would not become a *****.
She would not be labeled a ‘demon’ as her father had called her.
And for a few centuries, that is what she did. Traveling town to town, helping in small and big ways. Sending letters, helping tend to gardens, fighting off stray beasts that had come too close to town, going into dangerous caverns to clean them out so a nearby town was safe. Any and all she could possibly do.
After all the years of fighting, she dabbled in the Arcane, but never found the spark in it as she did with fighting steel with steel. Hence why she only used Arcane type methods when she was back into a corner, or needed a distraction.
All until she met a fellow Fey’Ri, named Vulmar Krisydark. He was a Fey’Ri with dark hair, and lighter colored eyes. The exact color? Forgotten with time. Venrya had met this fellow Fey’Ri because of a job she had accepted. Both Venyra and him were to go and investigate an alarming rate of missing children.
At first, Venyra wasn’t too fond of him. The last Fey’Ri she had known was her mother. And as last she saw her, she died. She didn’t want to try to become friendly with her kind. Her own kind seemed like a bad omen, a bad charm. So when she learned she had this job with him, she promised herself she’d keep the conversation small. She did not want to become attached, nor form any type of friendship.
Yeah, the exact opposite happened. During the mission, the high stakes, and the tension, she learned that the Fey'Ri was a more or less okay man. Vulmar was quick to befriend Venyra, happy of course to see a fellow Fey’Ri that was so open to showing their normal form.
After deciding that the two were a great team, they did a few more missions together. Small, or large, calm or stressful, they did quite a bit together.
And as usual cliche shit goes, yeah they married blah blah im not typing all that out. Sooner or later, they two of them had a few kids again blah blah BLAHHHHHHHHHHH the end is almost near!
They had two sons and a daughter, Elakas, Qinren, and the girl named Magra. Venyra loved her children, and her husband quite a lot. She did all she could to protect them, vowing she’d not keep her children in a cage like her mother did. To not judge them like her father did.
Venyra and Vulmar had settled her family down in a small village, one of which they have done a dozen or so missions and quests in. So the townspeople may be distant, but not violent or judgemental in any way. Of course, that was very important to Venyra to make sure of. The last thing she wants is a repeat of what happened to her when she was a child. Life was peaceful, life was happy, filled with laughter and joy.
All until it wasn’t.
A creature, TO NICKS CHOICE OF WHAT AND WHO THE **** IT WAS BC HEY UR THE DM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (forgotton to even venyra at the time aka my excuse) large, terrifying and all destroying. It left the town in ruins, left corpses on the ground like litter, and families crumbled like gravel. Venyra fought back with Vulmer all she could, experience being her greatest strength.
Yet her family being her greatest weakness. She did all she could to protect them. And unlike other times, she could not run to save herself. She had too much love, too much attachment. She had to protect them with all she had. And so, that is what she did.
All until she once again could not. With the fighting for hours, with the exhaustion of using her wings, all the magic she could muster. She couldn’t lift her sword anymore, and so, the beast grabbed her daughter, Marga,
Venyra screamed out, despair filling through her. Her arms stinging, her wings aching, out of energy for any magic, and her sword tip limpy pierced into the ground. She was desperate to keep her family safe. The hell with her own life, her family meant everything to her.
And so, Venyra learned the creature's true purpose. Yeah no more detail i'm tired and wanna give u at least a day to read this before the next session. It wanted to strike a deal with someone powerful, to take their physical life force and add it to herself. To keep their life for as long as they can, by stealing the years left of others. It spoke, the harsh, rough tone of the creature enough to make her shake.
It spoke to her to make a deal with it, to allow it to take a “tiny, such a small amount of your life force…you won’t even notice it’s gone. And I promise, i'll leave your family, and town alone for the rest of the life you have left.”
Venyra was in no way naive, she knew she would, hell she WAS being taken advantage of. But what else could she do? She would not abandon her family, and so, that is what she did.
She struck a deal, and when the creature seemed satisfied, it dropped Venyras daughter. Making slow, terrifying steps closer to Venyra. Reaching out its hand, awaiting a hand shake. Venyra slowly reached her hand over, and shook it. The creature gave a large grin, then crushed her hand. Pain shot up her arm, before she felt herself become weak, dizzy. She knew she had made a grave mistake, as soon as her head slammed to the ground.
Her vision blurred in and out, her family in and out of her view.
“You’re a damned fool.” It spoke out, glancing down at Venyra as it walked to her family. “Until I die, you will not awaken. And since I have, give or take another 600, or 2,000 from your amazing kids here. I won’t ever be dying.” The humorless laugh rippled through the creature.
“Nighty nighty, mortal.”
The last thing she heard before she fell into the eternal hands of her slumber was the screaming of her children.
...Why. why did I pick up the dice I HAVE SO MUCH DICE PLEASE IM BROKE HELP ME
My group just started Rime of the Frostmaiden. I let everyone pick classes first and we needed a healer spot, so I am trying a priest out for the first time. I chose a twilight cleric and this is the little tidbit the DM gave me. (I guess in Rime all the characters get a little plot hook) It is pretty crazy. This is the plot tidbit:
Escaped Prisoner:
I was brought here from another world by spacefaring mind flayers. The ship in which I was imprisoned crashed in the mountains south of ten towns.
I made my backstory into a series of short videos on youtube. I thought I came up with a pretty good way of weaving it all together.
Mirazumin Part 1
Mirazumin Part 2
Mirazumin Part 3
Mirazumin Part 4
Mirazumin Part 5
Mirazumin Part 6
Elanorela Naurna, Rock Gnome Monk Wizard.
It all began in the medium autumn of Elanorela's hometown, where she (and her friends) signed up to go to their local wizarding college, Mors Scientiae, a school of almost all types of wizards. Originally, Elanorela signed up to just differ from her parent's dull lives of being farmers and stonemasons, but, luckily enough, after the gnome graduated, she was elected to be of the King's High Royal Wizards.
Only 9 magical users, one for each different school and a specialized head of the team, had the final decision on everything the King's army planned. Elanorela enjoyed each of her companions but most especially admired and idolized her Kalashtar captain; Rhequin. Or Rae, for short. The gnome adored everything about him, his shining, velvet hair, his eagerness to 'fight against evil' and 'purge into unknown'. He was such an inspiration to Elanorela, that she even dyed her hair a dark, crimson red, claiming it was a 'triple dragon dare' from one of her friends.
A few months later, Elanorela and her group stayed as Royal Wizards for the Highness of her hometown. She and the others were considered heroes and heroines in the surrounding villages and towns. They'd be hailed almost as much as the King and Queen themselves.
Until one day...
Elanorela was wondering about the halls, commanded by Rae to get out and explore the castle more instead of reading and writing scriptures until she came across a hefty, iron door. It was like no other door in the castle but, it was still openable with a simple Knock spell. The door was creaked open, only a small study sheltered itself in the stone brick room. With only mere glances, Elanorela couldn't seem to tell any secret compartments but there was one thing she saw. A small piece of parchment on the wooden desk, read;
Dear Bardok,
I wrote this letter to thank you millions, that extra transport of slaves helped the workload here. Concerning our alliance, I wish to keep this a little secret between you and me.
The letter had much more on it, but Elanorela was in so much shock. Bardok? The man who tarnished the most glorious, hanged the most innocent and awarded torture to the most gentle? There ... there was no possible way that the humble king would be in such a scandal, right?
She retreated to the iron entrance, about to run away; far, far away; Until a swift staff slammed her face and her body downward to the floor.
The gnome woke up, a group of yellow-dressed monks surrounding her, asking her many questions. Who was she? How was she? She knew her name, Elanorela, but she did not remember anything else.
All her wizarding friends, that cursed letter, her parents, and even Rae; Gone.
She ... or Elanorela got up. The people around her spiraled with questions; She retorted with a more simple inquiry;
"Are you lot ... Monks?"
It only made sense, she only just realized they were in a Monostary-looking ... place, with Monk-ish people. They all nodded their heads, almost in a discipled unison. They helped the young gnome up and invited her to join their guild of monks.
A couple of months later and she was off put, almost. No amount of trying and training could make her truly learn more about the Monk Lifestyle; She only knew some book tequiniques and ones that were taught extensively to her
Until she finally opened her mind one faithful day. Elanorela, training with the peers, found a great surge of energy trying to argue about the myths of the Feywild and accidently casted Fire Bolt in the more heated parts of the discussion targeted toward one of the training dummies. Everyone there was stalled by the portrayal as the head of the village hollared the gnomes name immediately. Elanorela was watching a diatribe unfold as her master berated her and warned against any attempt to learn of perform magic. As her punishment, she would be sent away on a spiritual journey were she really, REALLY 'found' herself.
She found the rest of the party on this path of guidance and the rest is truly history.
So yeah, that's my character. If you wish to view the actual character, the link is right here. Any feedback and/or comment is very much appreciated!
"Imagine nerfing wizards so they can't cast ritual spells even if they don't have the prepared AND making it so they can't change their spells after every long rest. Oh yeah, that's my DM..."
- Elanorela, the Gnome Monk (Mercy) Wizard (Bladesinger) with a base AC of 17
"I wanted to say I told you so, but my god wouldn't allow it..."
- Sebastian, the Half-Elf Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline) that is the victim of many 7 damage attacks. (His max HP is, you guessed it, 7)