Characters you're proud of.

[Clopin Silk]

This post is about exactly what it says in the title; the characters you take pride in. The ones where you feel like you came up with something pretty cool. What are yours? I'll start with mine; Clopin Silk, elven rogue (yes, that's where I got the username).
Clopin Silk was actually born Cassius Valis, a member of an elven noble family. His days were spent in luxury, he had the finest tutors, and every day, the message was reinforced; he was superior. He hated every minute of it. He hated the mindless arrogance that said that the Valis family were superior because the Valis family were superior, he hated the familial obsession with maintaining an image, and he hated the way his father, Tiberius Valis, treated members of every other race like they were just animals who had somehow learned to talk. But most of all, he hated being viewed more as a political resource than as a son. He hated the fact that nobody in his family ever actually loved him. So, he did the only thing that made sense to him at the time; got his arse disowned/exiled.

At this point in his story, it becomes necessary for the purposes of understanding to know a little about the family courts system favoured in house Valis, in all its mad, nonsensical, unfair glory. The plaintiff does not name the accused at first. First, the plaintiff explains the crime committed against them, then the judges (rather than a jury, the family court uses a trio of judges) decide on an appropriate punishment. The logic behind this system is to reduce the number of ways in which the judges could alter their ruling to favour one party or the other, as they don't know how powerful the defendant may be. This ruling cannot be overturned save by an appeal. Then and only then is the accused named, told the sentence they face if found guilty, and allowed to plead their case. If you can't see a dozen ways to abuse this system, there's no hope for you.

Cassius gamed this system by bursting into the family courtroom one day with the pointed tips of his ears sliced off (he still has scars). The judges decreed that the penalty for such a senseless act of violence was to disown and exile the culprit, and, when they demanded the name of the perpetrator, Cassius put his masterstroke into play; he had mutilated his own ears, and offered no defense, pleading guilty. Family law had no provisions for such a bizarre occurrence, so the sentence was carried out. Cassius took a new name and set out on his own.

He joined the circus. For several years he was part of a small travelling circus, where he served as an acrobat, knife thrower, and performed various other feats of grace and dexterity until the circus closed due to a lack of funds. Hungry for freedom and excitement, Clopin became a mercenary of sorts, hunting bandits and savage beasts for a reasonable price.

Clopin's personality was shaped in some fairly unusual ways by his upbringing, in that, in a great many instances, he was the opposite of his family. He holds his friends very dear, and will go to great lengths to help them. He shows a complete disregard for his reputation and image, instead preferring to do what he wants, or what he believes is right. He despises politics, and is somewhat horrified by his talent for it, although that won't stop him from buttering someone up to help him get what he wants. Within minutes of encountering a new culture, any new culture at all, he'll have fallen completely in love with some aspect of it, and has said that his method for making difficult decisions is that he 'thinks about what Tiberius (he never refers to Tiberius Valis as his father, and claims that he never has, even as a toddler) would do, and then does the opposite'.

That's Clopin Silk. What about you guys? What characters have you created that you feel like sharing? And needless to say, I'd love to know what you think of my creation.

[Hogsy]

A character I am proud of is a character I am just starting to play(My avatar is a depiction of him), but have made a very intricate life for in my mind. In order to understand it all a lil' bit better, you'll need some insight on the setting I'm playing on. Me and my friends decided to make our own D&D world, and on this world, we'll call it Dragonworld, Dragons reigned supreme. They were the superior race, with a roman-esque empire in the ancient years spanning across all 3 continents. They started off as Chromatic, and slowly evolved their way up to a more civilized way of life, Primal Dragons(Which were renamed Primordial Dragons) and Metallic Dragons. The first were the progenitors of druidic magic whereas the latter were the first craftsmen and arcane masters. Not everyone had let gone of their chromatic heritage however, and that lead to a huge war, because these Neochromatic(we'll call them that) dragons used the lesser races (mainly dwarves and gnomes) as slaves for their mining operations.

Now, at this point in time, there were no deities watching over Dragonworld, instead there were something me and my pals call "the Primals". Think of them as manifestations of the laws of the universe. There are 4 for each element which each and every thing is composed of. Earth, Water, Air and Fire. We call those the Outer Primals, for they govern the physical world. Then, there are the Inner Primals. Emotion and Logic. They govern the inner spectrum of each living being, as well as the inner workings of the universe itself. Emotion governs all things magical, whereas Logic governs all things non-magical. Lastly, we have the 2 Cosmic Primals. Death and Life. They are the beginning and end.

Besides the Primordial, Metallic & Neochromatic Dragons, there are also the Empyreal. Very few in numbers, they are guardians of the Primals. Think of them as Avatars of Gods. They are the first divine casters of our world and creators of the first domains, Primordial dragons use druidic magic, in the form of very long rituals to perform simple spells of the druid spell list. Metallic Dragons have some arcane casters in their midst, but they're mostly mundane. Masters of all arts. The Chromatic and Metallic Dragons are aplenty, while the Primordials are merely a 20% of that. Empyreal Dragons are 8.

So, the Neochromatic dragons have found a "vein" of the Primal of Earth and are exploiting it to mine huge amounts of rare metals and whatnot to fuel their machines and hunger for "progress". They have created a huge pit which is called Tiamat(wink wink, later on this becomes the graveyard of many dragons, giving birth to Her majesty.). Stuff goes wrong, many dragons disagree. Politics fail even the grandest of races. The pinnacle of superiority. War erupts. We call that war, the Ten Thousand Scales War, due to its (hehe) scale.

Here comes my character, Palar Dosso(which roughly translates to Peaceful Guardian in Draconic). In dragon culture, the egg of each female dragon chooses a safekeeper until it hatches, and the egg goes with him/her. The Egg of Dragonqueen Kalfyra Lothertach, one of the few platinum dragons in existence chooses Palar Dosso as his safeguard. But, during the War, the Leader of the Neochromatics(We'll call them the Dra'ach Ashar), Ashardalon(yes, that guy is mad crazy even in our setting) convinced him to join their cause. He stored the egg deep within the Platinum Keep and with the help of Ashardalon's second in command, Tyraenis the Dragonness, they seized the castle. He became a Traitor, and was renamed to Akkan Dosso(which roughly translates to Peaceful Murderer in Draconic, due to his actions and fighting style.)

Akkan Dosso quickly rises through the military ranks of the Dra'ach Ashar and becomes known for his atrocities and countless war crimes. Heinous tactics to destroy the Vyth'Edaar(the Metallic and Primordial Dragons) which are only matched by the raw brutality of Tyraenis. Stuff happens in the whole story of the world and Abominations(from the epic handbook, along with a psionic fluff) come in and drain the primals of their energy, causing time to stand still in the plane. They kill pretty much all dragons, but those who survive, find a much crueler fate. They have reversed to a humanoid form, the Dragonborn. Akkan Dosso, due to the nature of his life, was the first to regress to such a form. His was even lesser than that of his kin. He was the first human to walk upon Dragonworld. Found by Goliaths, a nomad race with strong ties to the Dragons of old, he now finds himself 5000 years or so after the Age of the Dragons. Few people know of their existence, and even the Dragonborn themselves think they were once the Dragons' companions, and have moved on, never finding out why they had disappeared. Now, his name is Axel Norwyn, a young silverbrow(platinumbrow?) human who hears the call of destiny. Strong in magic and with martial prowess, he is taught the ways of the dragons by the Goliaths. In terms of mechanics, he's a Warlord(Path of War) 6/Warmage(Homebrew) 2 & Wyrmknight 6(Arcane Paladin Archetype made by me)/ Eldritch Psion 2(Magus archetype) gestalt. He can cast spells, swing a sword and initiate martial maneuvers. He has no idea of his true past, and is found by an elven oracle who is tied to him. Faerath. He becomes a mentor to the young and (now) impressionable Axel Norwyn. Together, they travel to lands far and near, uncovering bits of Axel's true power(leveling up) and finding out of his Destiny. During this time, Axel visits the sacred lands of the Elves, makes contact (unbeknownst to him) with an Empyreal Dragon, works his way up the ranks of a draconic cult(the ashes of the Dra'ach Ashar, led by one of the 5 remaining true Dragons) only to be despised by himself that commiting cruelties feels so natural and easy, and finally, Limintor. The Island where the Platinum Keep used to stand tall. A work of art, a bastion for civilization. Forgotten.

From this point onward, it's all speculation as for where I want to take this character. He will antagonize the charming merchant and leader of an expedition in the island(very illegal thing to do, the council of kings has announced that entering this island is dealt with by punishment of death) because he has brought tons of adventurers with him, who are raiding and ruining what is already a huge fortress in ruins. There, he will find the Platinum Egg, future king of all good Dragons(you know it's him) and Lord of the North Wind. The Wyrmknights is an order of knights dedicated to Bahamut which Axel will establish. Wyrmknights gain arcane instead of divine abilities from their draconic patrons, and other Wyrmknights, dedicated to other dragons can exist. These dragons must be powerful in order to grant arcane powers to their servants. During his time in Limintor, Axel will become a Dragonborn of Bahamut through the Rite of Rebirth (http://archive.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/iw/20060105b). He will find out of his dark past, and will be forced to deal with it. There, he will meet Tarvinxia once again(the leader of the cult he helped out with in the past) Axel and Tarvinxia used to be lovers when Axel was Akkan Dosso, and Tarvinxia still feels the same lust for him she once did. She tries to persuade him to be Akkan Dosso once again and to follow her, but he declares the following "My name is indeed Akkan Dosso, and I have now seen my sins. Sins I shall pay dearly for. But I am not the only one to be held accountable, so I shall add a few more to the list. I will hunt down every dragon responsible for the atrocities commited in that war. One by one, I'll slaughter them." Axel then, approached Tarvinxia, and with a broken expression, impales her with a blade of thunder. "That includes myself, my dear beloved. And if I am to fail, I shall never again have the right to call myself Norwyn."

Well, that's all for now at least. The last bit is how I imagine it will go, but I am sure it will be way cooler. It's still one of my main goals with him to start up the Order of Wyrmknights though, along with them, he'll found a city to aid Limintor in the coming years, moving on from his role as antagonizer of the merchant, who will also found a city in Limintor.

[Rakoa]

The big bad of a game I am currently running is King Milior Shevrin, a previously Lawful Good prince who enjoyed painting that ran afoul of some devils, who screwed up in corrupting him so badly that he became Chaotic Evil rather than Lawful Evil. One of the side effects of this corruption is he now has a constant ability to see the alignments of others, and he's enthralled by the swirling array of colours he sees in the souls of others.

His father, being pure Lawful Good, had especially impressive colours. So, as an epic level gish, he designed a spell that could capture souls and covert them into paint for him to work with. After murdering his father, he took his soul, and found there wasn't nearly enough paint to create his masterpiece.

So now, as King, he initiates his plan.
1.Gather artifacts that allow him to control the most powerful worshippers of the most powerful gods.

2.Ransom those worshippers back to the gods in exchange for demi-godhood.

3. Dominate the world as God-Emperor.

4. Outlaw the worship of any deity save for himself.

5. Generations pass. Over time, people will legitimately accept him as their deity, for they will know no other.

6. Unleash an Epic Level plague spell, completely devastating the world's population.

7. Retire to his divine realm with the souls of all of his followers, dismantling them and painting them into his eternal masterpiece.

Of course, hopefully the PCs can stop him in time. He'll refer to each of them lovingly as, "dear, sweet, precious paints!" while he tries to cast them into oblivion. And hey, if they fail, I now have a messed up campaign world for their next characters.

[TheBrassDuke]

I'm particularly proud of a Cleric I recently built (recent, as in "last year"), and only just a few months ago came to fully appreciate.

Now if you know me, I'm not a Cleric person. At all. I've always been the Wizard of Sorcerer, or took Druid.

But I've become so enamored with Saint Eleisa of House Marche (House of the Bear):

"I am Eleisa,

Liberator of the People of High Haven,
Bannerwoman at the Siege of Erion,
Chanter of the Highest Order,
Slayer of Enumiel the Proud, and Karavakos;
I am Shadow at the back of the Vampire Angelo,

She who prayed for the soul of the Demon Scollax,
Who climbed the Great Snowpeaks
And deposited the Wildfire Calista back
Into the Banks of Baator,
Forever in debt to Asmodeus,

Sole Heiress to the House of the Bear,
Champion of the City of Riel,
And Guardian of Holy Cornelia,
Creation's Land.

I am Eleisa Marche,

The Right Hand of Creation."

From Holy Cornelia--my campaign world's equivalent to Orlais, from Dragon Age--Eleisa grew up among the teachings of Creation's Law, the Church's hierarchy parallel to the Crown. Indeed, Queen Lai-Nia of House Lain also served as the Church's "Divine", and so the Writ was involved in everyday life.

Overcome by a wretched plague, Cornelian lands were ripe with budding clerics and paladins, among them being Eleisa. She came to the Church and quickly proved to be quite the champion in Creation's name. She even held the title of Church Inquisitor during the Great Plague, when the Church discovered the disease was no mere natural phenomenon, but in fact an arcane plot.

For years she served dutifully, until it was discovered that one of her own Cardinals was suspected of high treason--of creating the plague that had killed so many of Creation's chosen. Such betrayal would become the norm for Eleisa, as she would soon find out.

Confronting the man, Eleisa discovered that he was no mere man, but an outrageously powerful magician, and a secret member of the infamous Imperial Wizardry--she was no match for the Cardinal. He went on to imprison her in a dank, abandoned building, where he infected her directly with the disease and laughed as she slowly died with fire in her eyes.

In death she was met by the Goddess Midnight, the Mother of Night: Chaos, Shadow, Trickery, these were but few among Her portfolio, an Old God Eleisa was unfamiliar with. Midnight offered her new life, in exchange for her service. Why not? Creation had betrayed them all, and allowed corruption as the highest level of the faith. She allowed for the death of millions.

Some debate followed, but ultimately the Goddess' will took over, and Descendant Eleisa was reborn, no longer of Creation and Purity, but of Pestilence and Shadow: Midnight's First Herald.

---------

Tl;dr, Eleisa the Cleric of Pestilence. I'm sorry if my writeup was long and blah. I've only been awake for just a little while.

[Yael]

Link, a changeling beguiler into mindbender that helped release the Lovecraftian Elder Gods to cause mayhem.

In her feats, we include...

Participating in the assassination of a good deity. :smallcool:

Being a key function in the destruction of most of the Flanaess. :smallsmile:

Destroying Khovaire. :smalleek::smalleek:

Destroying Faerun. :smallfrown::smallfrown:

Selling the whole Dragonlance setting to extraplanar witches. :smallfrown:

Giving Rokugan to an army of undead and oni. :smallwink:

Traveling to the center of the planet into an unknown civilization and evangelize them into the Elder Gods. :smallsigh:

Blowing up Midnight. :smallredface:

Unnamed Zeus. :smalleek:

Became an aspect of Nyarlathotep. :smallcool:

We had tons of fun in that game :smalltongue:

[Tiri]

The character I'm most proud of is the one I started playing D&D with. Well, technically the second, but the first one was in a campaign that went so badly and with so little comprehension of what was happening from the players I don't think it counts. I'm still playing him today due to the DM being prone to long periods of hiatus.

This character's name was Butbun. He was a goblin, born to a tribe which had previously been enslaved by a group of bugbears and orcs, who had been slaughtered singlehandedly by a priestess of Maglubiyet, who effectively re-enslaved them. She chose two successors from the tribe's crop of female children (not having a high opinion of males due to events in her own backstory).

One of the two eventually became his mother, a young priestess with voracious sexual appetites and a tendency for sacrifcing her lovers after she got bored with them.

Butbun's mother didn't pay much attention to her male child, so he was raised by his older half-sister, Vorka. Vorka got a lot more attention, their mother having inherited her mentor's views on gender, but the attention included a measure of physical and emotional abuse whenever her mother was frustrated with her. As a result, she didn't end up too favorably disposed towards her.

Things, luckily for the two children, things started looking up when the old priestess of Maglubiyet sent the temple guardian away on a mission to hunt down a paladin after a short encounter that didn't go very well for a certain adventuring party. Butbun's mother quickly formulated a plan to poison her mentor, take control of the tribe jointly with her sister, who was more brutish than her and easily controlled, then pack the whole tribe up and leave before the guardian (an 8-foot-tall wight blackguard) got back and decided to avenge his mistress.

Vorka delivered the poison herself, and once word was out the next morning, she put her own plan into action, knowing that while her mother and aunt might have enough power to rule jointly, they couldn't individually. That night, she got her little brother out of the house and torched it while their mother slept. The two left hastily to hide in the woods.

The next night, their aunt's house was torched by the other goblins, after her first frantic day of trying to consolidate power. Their aunt didn't go down so easily and burst out of the flaming to fight the tribe's top warrior apart from her, a goblin named Spotol, nail and teeth to sword.

Obviously, the goblin with the sword won, and the same night, Chief Spotol packed up the tribe, Vorka and Butbun having come back with a hero's welcome, and left before the guardian got back and decided to avenge his mistress.

The next few year were lived in a state of relative calm, Butbun having a number of adventures with his sister, Chief Spotol's son Spotuk, who was secretly opposed to his father's rule and dabbled in necromancy using old books stolen from the dead priestesses, and Pog, a druid.

Then, the guardian attacked with a force of undead, laying waste to the goblin settlement and killing more than half their number. Poor Butbun lost four levels to the guardian's Energy Drain before Pog distracted him with an entangling spell.

The chief eventually defeated the guardian, who left in a weakened state. Unfortunately, the attack gave Spotuk a chance to question his father's leadership and form his own support base, who, like him, thought they should be doing more raiding and destroying of other humanoids' property (Spotol was a relatively peaceful chief).

The tribe moved again, Butbun having been relagated to foraging as a result of his lost strength. His sister was eaten by a bear one day when he was out foraging with her, and he inherited her pet chicken.

One day, he ended up falling into one of the traps Spotuk's supporters had set up to catch humans. A passing human merchant took pity on him and released him, but unfortunately for the merchant, Spotuk and a band of his goblins arrived as he was doing it.

The merchant was, obviously, captured and held in a hut in preparation for dinner. Butbun wouldn't otherwise have bothered, but the man had helped him and he wasn't a Spotuk supporter. So he asked the man what he could do to help.

Now this is where the campaign began.

Butbun left the goblin village to get to the city where the merchant had told him a friend lived. Said friend had actually already noticed his disappearance and was hacking their way with some kind strangers who had volunteered to help through giant spiders in an entirely different part of the woods to try and find him.

The human group (well, they had one half-elf) and Butbun found each other at the aforementioned friend's weapons shop. He led them to the goblin camp easily with a Bluff check to get the sentries to think he was with a bunch of fearsome warriors it was futile to oppose, where the new party's half-elf fighter lit a house on fire as a distraction.

The party of four, including Butbun, freed the merchant but barely escaped alive, hiding in a tor which happened to be the setting for a module called A Dark and Stormy Knight. Then there was the module Wreck Ashore and eventually the party got to the Sunless Citadel.

Butbun ended up placating the kobold queen with some kowtowing and got the party Meepo as a guide. It turned out the goblins there were his own tribe, Spotuk having taken over and fallen in with an evil druid after the fire started by the fighter supposedly killed the old chief. Butbun planted the seeds of revolt among some of the old chief's supporters, and disgusted by Meepo's story of killing his sister, fed Meepo to his tribe members.

They went to where Spotuk was hiding out with the druid, nearly died in the attempt to assassinate him but were saved by the tribe, who had two new queens, Bella and Drew, who had decided to make Butbun Prince Consort.

Too bad the druid managed to kill most of the goblins and the party leader, enslave the rest, do the same to the kobolds, slip past the army the party raised to defeat him on it's way to the Citadel and raze the town they started on that quest in. He also kidnapped the party ranger and cleric.

The druid escaped to the mountains, and the party, under the new leadership of Butbun and the addition of a shadow monster to the party, is hunting him down.

So far the hunt has been punctuated by a fight with a dragon, the discovery of a town where the passing druid sold some of his goblin slaves, the ranger and killed a bunch of children, and an involuntary trip to the plane of Water.

Butbun and the party are still trying to find a way back.

[Psyren]

I'll try to keep mine short and sweet.

"Beasts" was a Warforged Totemist who was actually a gestalt entity of animals and magical beasts, who all died when their forest was razed during a magical war. Their anguished souls latched onto stray incarnum from the fight and ended up taking up residence within an abandoned Warforged husk left over from the battle. Beasts' ultimate goal was to seek vengeance on the warring civilizations that had ruined their natural home and caused their demise.

Beasts was fun to play because I got to refer to myself in plural (think Legion from Mass Effect or Ermac from Mortal Kombat), and the more animalistic/barbaric aspects of Totemists like being illiterate fit with the character quite well. The mechanics were fun too - having the right answers to various problems via my soulmelds, Warforged being solid Totemist choices etc.

Beasts loved the outdoors and was uncomfortable at best in civilization, which resulted in some interesting roleplay moments and various hijinks. Interacting with other Warforged also caused some memorable moments.

[Brutilious]

Back in the day when I first started playing I was restricted to the base classes, which had some flavor, but I wanted more. I stumbled upon drow when I was reading through some literature and found that was just the flavor that I needed. I proceeded to make Malcerous. He was a drow wizard, who was fairly optimized into evocation and transmutation.

Not only was he deadly in combat but he was fun to role play as well. Drow are born into darkness and generally hate the sun, so every time my party would walk into the daylight I'd shield my eyes, put my hood up, etc.. He was also fascinated with death and dark, which offset the characters who I played with. They had all chosen to be goody two shoes detective service or something or other, and Malcerous changed the group dynamic for the better being smart and trying to get them to slowly shift their alignments by committing acts of murder and indecency. All the players seemed to love it, and I never heard any complaints so we kept it up and it led to some of the best times we've ever had playing D&D.

It was a riot and I don't think I'll ever make a character that could match the fun I had with Malcerous.

[Clopin Silk]

Hogsy's absurdly epic story


Damn. I don't even know what to say to that. The universe building, the shame and infamy heaped upon the character, the tragedy; I'm a little overwhelmed.

[Clopin Silk]

The big bad of a game I am currently running is King Milior Shevrin, a previously Lawful Good prince who enjoyed painting that ran afoul of some devils, who screwed up in corrupting him so badly that he became Chaotic Evil rather than Lawful Evil. One of the side effects of this corruption is he now has a constant ability to see the alignments of others, and he's enthralled by the swirling array of colours he sees in the souls of others.
Etc.

Well. That's terrifyingly nightmarish. I mean, the grandiose scheme for the sake of something so utterly pointless is just... twisted. You scare me.

[Dunsparce]

I'm extremely happy with my current character, more so than any others I've ever played. The campaign is a strange mixture of 3.5, Spelljammer, d20 Modern, d20 Future, and d20 Call of Cthulhu

He has a name, it's just not able to be said or spelt because he's a Diopsid(Four-armed bug dudes from the underdark, not to be confused with Thri-kreen), whose racial language is spoken through abdomen Flashes. He's usually just simply called "The Diopsid".

He's a 4 year old(Adult by diopsid standards, they become venerable at age 20 and roll 1d8 for their max age) Sword Sage, one of twenty eight children and the second biggest disappointment in the family(after the NEET that mooches off of their parents and holes up in their sub-sub-sub-basement watching the drow show My Little Large Monsterous Spider: Friendship is a 3/day Spell-like Ability) for always wanting to leave the underdark to make a name for himself. However he quickly was arrested by Space Russia for trying to "Improve" a local water supply by saturating it in sugar(Sugar water is his trademark favorite drink, I admit I stole the idea from the main villain of the first Men in Black movie). And thus his adventure begins in the Space Gulags.

He finds companionship in the form of a female catfolk battledancer, a male abeil Vassal marshal cop, a male lesser aasimar healer(as in the Miniatures handbook class), and a giant space hamster(framed for murder), the latter of which he named "Count Nibbles, Terror of the Seven Seas in Space"(He's not good at telling the difference between normal outside and outer space in terms on context since neither have ceilings, one's just harder to breathe in). Together, along with a nameless NPC prisoner he instantly declared his lackey, they managed to break out of the gulags and escape in a jeep(Luckily the bee cop has max ranks in drive).

Via a series of mad-max like adventures, they finally got a hold of a space ship and left, with the lackey(and his family, my guy felt like being nice) along with numerous other minor NPCs that became the crew of our ship. In particular he took a shining to the Orc Scientist Grok, since they both were pariahs of their own races due to being so different from the norm. After having a cosmic-horror type quest on an abandoned space ship for a mission to earn money(Minus any amount of horror due to our characters being so eccentric), the party then went to clean out a laboratory taken over by space pirates to get a hold of a super computer that reveals the secrets of the universe.

After a hard fought adventure, the Diopsid made many new friends, 2 gnolls that out of fear stopped being space pirate and live under new identities on our ship, an Earth Elemental that was summoned and binded by a wizard, and the scientist running the computer who went crazy from the revelation(we use the Sanity system). He decided to have some male bonding time and took them all to a space casino, but were chased out shortly thereafter(Apparently responding to losing the slots by cleaving the machine with a large-sized great axe is not allowed, on top of being disruptive by being a 7'6" bug monster with 2 gnolls and rock monster in tow). Swearing Revenge, he plotted to someday rob the casino of the riches he felt he deserved for being himself.

But first, a game-changing mission happened when they were hired to stop a zombie infestation at a small settlement on a jungle-themed planet. After saving the people and buying up the land, he declared himself king of the planet since no-one outside of the settlement cared about it. No one in the party argued with the scary bug man. He made the hamster Prime Minister. Now with a very big ego boost, he decided that they needed to get the funds to start his empire from the casino.

After sneaking in and setting up a distraction of breaking a multi-story fish tank, they made it to the casino owner and 3 mindflayers. The Diopsid quickly made friends with the latter, and offered them a much more free lifestyle since they were obviously being controlled by the owner, who then revealed himself to be a black dragon. We defeated him and escaped with the mindflayers and enough investments for things to get even more silly. Via an agressive advertising campign on all of the most popular underdark channels, The Empire of Diopsidopia was born.

Not feeling content with sitting still, the party moved on to another planet that had evidence of diopsids traveling through space previously many years ago. There he found an ancestral greatsword, a weapon of legacy that proved he was destined to revive a long-lost diopsid kingdom. After buying out the space rock the ship was on as a historical site/mining planet, the party then moved on to an icy planet to complete the sword's first quest, fighting some eldritch horrors a lone cathedral. After beating them up We took over that planet to to make into a planet-wide ski resort and revamped the gross cathedral into a royal suite.

After that we took a detour to Innsmouth to beat up Dagon and to save a contractor of ours that went missing. With us came numerous Drow mercenaries that are the stand-in army for diopsidopia while we are still training an actual army. We made a mess of such an established location, everything was burned to the ground(accidentily) and Dagon and Mother Hydra were slain by our own hands, letting the other eldritch gods know our ultimate goal of saving the universe from vagueness. Also the Healer and the Diopsid became the new objects of worship for the Deep Ones via some stupidly lucky rolls that could've backfired pretty hard.

And now that that has settled, he has to meet his hardest test yet... A diplomatic mission, which will obvious work out with his 8 Charisma and no ranks in social skills outside of Sense Motive.

So there is the story so far, at least the parts relevant to my character. From prisoner to King to Deep One god, he has quite a list of achievements under his +6 Belt of Giant Strength. The campaign is planned to go into epic levels eventually, since we are either slaying or negotiating with all of the eldritch gods.

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Mechanics-wise he is a level 11 Diopsid Sword Sage that specializes in Desert Wind and Stone Dragon Strikes and Shadow Hand Stances. He has the giant space hamster as a wild cohort, who is mostly around to be adorable and wearing silly hats, most predominately a propeller beanie, and rarely contributes to battles. He is played more like a Warblade function-wise, just hitting things really hard with no sneaky skills or anything.

[digiman619]

My favorite character I ever played was Thrond Silvermane (he also serves as my avatar): a CG Mountain Dwarf Wild Magic Sorcerer (this was a 5th Edition game; CG to differentiate him from my last character who was LN, Mountain dwarf because they get free medium armor prof. and can cast in it, Wild magic to justify being chaotic and Sorcerer because I hadn't played a spontaneous caster before). Backstory wise, he left home when he had a huge argument with his father because he was always in the shadow of his deceased brother; his older brother was a perfect dwarf and anytime he did his own thing because he was judged as being less than is brother. So he ran off, promising to show his father how great he could be by being himself.

Anyway, we were playing the Hoard of the Dragon Queen and, through an ill-advised DM choice and amazing rolls, managed to kill the adult blue dragon that shows up in the first adventure. Unfortunately, the game died soon thereafter (Most of the players had to move to follow jobs), so I never had the chance to show my father my dragonscale armor or my dragon bone axe, but I'll always remember him.

[Clopin Silk]

Selling the whole Dragonlance setting to extraplanar witches. :smallfrown:



I'm sorry, what? :smalleek:

[Bax]

Cassius gamed this system by bursting into the family courtroom one day with the pointed tips of his ears sliced off (he still has scars). The judges decreed that the penalty for such a senseless act of violence was to disown and exile the culprit, and, when they demanded the name of the perpetrator, Cassius put his masterstroke into play; he had mutilated his own ears, and offered no defense, pleading guilty. Family law had no provisions for such a bizarre occurrence, so the sentence was carried out. Cassius took a new name and set out on his own
now that's some serious self-hatred, to mutilate one's own ears! Even in a controlling family, I think most folks would escape in the night. It does show a great contempt for his father, however. The fact that he makes his decisions based on the opposite of what his father would do indicates a strong dependency on his father even in exile...

[SangoProduction]

Perhaps the character that I enjoyed the most was Sheriff Rogers, an old fart in a D20 Apocalypse game. Very brief overview, because it's been years, and I barely remember it myself.

The first encounter with a zombie (we were on the cusp of the apocalypse of illithid-borne zombies), the team took it down before Rogers got to fire. He fired anyway. "Got 'em. That'll learn ya." The expressions of "what the hell?" on the groups' face (followed by laughter) was just a joyous sight.

Eventually, it so bad, he started leading hordes of zombies in dance, playing Thriller on those old boom boxes you used to carry around.

When the campaign ended prematurely, the DM said if we had continued, he planned to have the newly-turned zombies fight the illithids with us.

[Krazzman]

I have 3 characters I am/was proud of. I would've played them more if not for party dynamics.

The first one was a Human Warblade that could've been a dusk blade if it weren't for that pesky thing called spell plague. His hometown was the first experiment of cyric in that regard. He learned the disciplines in an attempt to channel his now plagued magical potential.

Game play wise he was a spiked chain wielding juggernaut. Focusing on tripping Iron heart and diamond mind stuff he was a bit stronger than the GM expected but had loads of fun.

The second character I would love to play again or further, although my wife would get headaches again, is my Silver brow Human Totemist. He was a total blast for me to play a blissfully dumb and illiterate character which was a bit of an act as he was illiterate but not dumb (14 int) which infuriated our arrogant cleric of kossuth (my wife's character ) quite a bit. He had to shape the fire resistant thing daily...
The funniest thing that happened in that adventure module was a magical housecat, which got stronger after every death but only had 7 lives, that wiped the floor with us. Everyone not down had single digit HP.

The last one for now was recently retired in carrion crow part 3 (werewolves and stuff) and replaced by a Paladin due to a player dropping, the dm annoyed by us monstrosities and so on.
He was an Oni-Spawn Tiefling Heretic Inquisitor of Lamashatu, that ditched the coven he belonged to and saved professor lorrimor in the process.
Shortly before coming to Ravengro he met a lover of his ancestor who was banished to hell. She (my wife) was a barbarian with demonic rage powers that came from the seed of their love (which was sabotaged ). Headcanon is that Tokias Schwarzhorn and Kira are currently in search for a gate to he'll to free his ancestor.
Now I am stuck playing an Angel-Born Aasimar (with Scion of Humanity ) Paladin that was kidnapped or found by fey that has an utter hate for redcaps and since part 4 slugophobia.

[Clopin Silk]

now that's some serious self-hatred, to mutilate one's own ears! Even in a controlling family, I think most folks would escape in the night. It does show a great contempt for his father, however. The fact that he makes his decisions based on the opposite of what his father would do indicates a strong dependency on his father even in exile...
There were actually two reasons why he went to such extreme measures. The first is that he needed to be disowned, otherwise Tiberius would have sent people to retrieve him. The second is that it would make his entire family look bad, and after being treated, even from his earliest childhood, as existing only to increase his family's standing, he wanted to hurt them o the way out. And as for the other thing, well... it's only for very complex decisions and, well, a moral compass needs something pointing south, so to speak.

[Ceralune]

I spent a lot of time working on this character, but I think she worked out in a way that I really like. She's an aasimar swashbuckler who, tbh, I spent a while optimizing. But I'm one of those people who feels like optimization that is justified by backstory and explanation is a good thing. -skip past a few paragraphs for the tl;dr-

Her name is Razielle Purefeather, a name she chose herself after separating herself from her family. After discussing her backstory and personality with the people on this very forum, I made her alignment True Neutral, an alignment I previously considered as rather boring. Basically, her backstory goes like this: She was the youngest of four in a wealthy merchant family. She looks nothing like her family. Rumors went around the city that she was adopted, or even born out of an affair. However, she's a very typical aasimar - lawful good alignment, beautiful and graceful, liked by everyone because she's very kind. She's the ideal daughter, excelling in her studies, music (azata-touched), and even taking up swordplay with her brother's instructor because she's got the chops for it. Meanwhile, her eldest sister is a little jealous of her because she just feels really mediocre in comparison. But the two of them love each other and, for a long time, that outweighs any jealousy she had.

One day, family friends - a noble family from a neighboring city - come to visit. They bring their son with them, a very strapping young man, and so Razielle's family is very excited that they might be able to arrange a betrothal between their eldest and this noble family's son. It would be a dream for them to marry their daughter into the nobility. But (and I know how cliche this is), the son and Razielle have a whole "love at first sight" thing going on, or something like that. They spend more time together in the days that the noble family is visiting, and they really hit it off. The noble family thinks that Razielle, though at the younger age of 14 (I read that 15 is adult age in Pathfinder?), has the makings of an ideal wife for their son. And so the betrothal is indeed arranged, but between this man and Razielle instead of the sister. And that's a bit of a breaking point for the sister, who might have been able to take coming in second to Razielle for everything else. But for Razielle to be on her way to a comfortable life with an amazing man, and a noble no less - it's a little too much for her sister to take.

The sister goes to deal with some shadier characters, who offer to help her make the man fall in love with her instead. She takes the deal and uses a supposed "love charm" on him, but it turns out to be something of a more malevolent nature. The man falls into a coma and shows no signs of waking. Razielle's heartbroken, and grieves. Finally, the sister can't take the guilt anymore, and invites Razielle to an abandoned warehouse owned by their family's business. She confesses what she did, and Razielle suddenly enters this moment of shock. She's grieving for her lost love, she discovers that her sister instigated the whole thing and didn't exactly have pure intentions either. Subconsciously, her arms seem to move on their own - and the next thing she knows, her sister is dead on the ground.

And this messes with her head, a lot. Razielle's used to being "perfect." She's never done anything like this before. She's terrified of how people will look at her if they find out. I drew a bit from what information I could find on aasimars and it seems they're usually very looked up to. Kinda like how she is. And she doesn't know what she would do if she lost that. She would feel like she failed, utterly, at something. On top of that, she's still grieving for her lost fiance, and her sister. She doesn't hate her sister. What transpired in the warehouse was done in pure shock, not out of malevolence. She never wanted any of this to happen. And so, she slips back to her bed in the cover of the night. She doesn't tell a soul. Her sister's body is found within a couple of days, and nobody suspects her of a thing. How could perfect Razielle have anything to do with it? Especially when she is grieving so? The very suggestion would have been preposterous, and insulting.

The months pass, but Razielle just can't take being at home anymore. It's too close to the terrible thing she did, she doesn't want her parents to look at her with pity anymore over what happened to her fiance. So she asks to travel, and her parents oblige, thinking that it'll be good for her to get some space from what happened. As soon as she and her bodyguards leave the city, she dupes them and escapes, vowing not to go back to her family until she's made sense of all of this.

tl;dr she grows up in a wealthy merchant family, loves her sister, is the typical perfect aasimar, her sister tries to steal her fiance and puts him in a coma instead, she kills her sister in a moment of shock and grief, moral conflicts ensue. She leaves home.

The years go by, 12 to be exact, until the start of the campaign that I'm playing her in. And over those years, living outside of the bubble of her parents' house and experiencing the cold world in its entirety shape her way of thinking even more. She realizes that she was foolish to put so much trust in the people around her. She becomes a bit of a loner, upholding a "You can't count on anyone but yourself" mentality. After all, if you can't even trust your family, who can you trust? She becomes pretty self-serving. She does jobs as a mercenary, or playing her flute, to get by. She still loves her sister - the betrayal doesn't erase 14 years of growing up together, 14 years of memories. She still regrets her sister's death with all her heart, she'd do anything to take it back - but a small part of her also wonders how innocent her sister was. She wonders how long her sister had those feelings of envy towards her. A part of her is still bitter at her sister for taking away the one she loved. The thought of going home is still too painful, and she makes no move to even try.

Some things do stick with her from her old life, though - most importantly, the value of a good reputation. She saw what her reputation did for her after her sister's death. No one so much as looked her way when wondering who could have done it. She immediately takes an angel name (though it might not be an angel from the Pathfinder universe... I'm not that knowledgeable on Pathfinder lore), she advertises her heritage when she thinks it might be helpful. She's pretty tolerant of the jobs she takes, as long as she thinks it helps her in some way and is worth doing, not batting an eye at the less prestigious ones or the messier ones, but she knows that it's important to maintain a good rep to be able to get away with that sort of thing. That said, murder is something she won't do - it's too close to the incident, even if she has some doubts about her sister's innocence, and she doesn't want to feel that way again. Another thing that sticks with her is the need for self-improvement - it's even stronger now, because it's pretty hard to look after yourself unless you're really good at it.

So yeah, overall I'm not totally proud of the backstory - I realize it plays on a lot of overused ideas. But I liked how it meshed together and came to be a convincing story for Razielle. What I am more proud of is her personality that comes out of it. I think she has a lot of human responses to the situation regarding her sister's death. I think it's normal for her to feel a lot of guilt, but it's also more complicated than that - why did her sister do this? How long did she feel that way? Was it a sudden thing or had it been coming for a while now and was this the trigger? Or even a darker question that might come up in her mind occasionally: was it really a murder considering what her sister did? I wanted to make her something different from the noble, good-hearted aasimar or the evil, fallen aasimar and I think I did okay there. Namely, I wanted to make her more human and realistic in how she reacted to it. She's not self-sacrificing, but she's also not this bitter, vengeful creature. Just self-interested, and unwilling to trust.

I also thought of the typical smooth-talking, dashing swashbuckler and wanted to change up that a little bit. She still acts the part of a kind, polite person - but sometimes there's just something off about her. She does these things more because she wants people to look on her favorably and less because they're the right thing to do. She's still nimble in battle. She's a typical swashbuckler, but like as if a major chord has been modulated down by just one third and turns minor, her intentions are very different from the typical do-gooder attitude.

I'm really excited for how she's going to grow over this campaign. She's with a lot of good-aligned PCs, and it's her first time having to work in a group in a looong time. So a lot of this is going to be getting used to other people who are perfectly willing to watch her back, without any ill intentions. And realizing that maybe, just maybe, she wants to reciprocate that, even if it goes against everything she has believed for the past 12 years. While I don't know if it'll result in anything as severe as, say, an alignment shift - I think there's a chance that she'll at least go from having this cynical view of the world to looking at it in a slightly lighter way, being able to do something generous simply because it's a good thing to do. I'm particularly interested in her interactions with the Inquisitor in our group, who is a lawful good woman and also believes strongly in self-improvement, but in just a slightly different way than how Razielle does, as a different facet of the same gemstone.

[Val666]

I spent a lot of time working on this character, but I think she worked out in a way that I really like. She's an aasimar swashbuckler who, tbh, I spent a while optimizing. But I'm one of those people who feels like optimization that is justified by backstory and explanation is a good thing. -skip past a few paragraphs for the tl;dr-


...

Love it!

[thorr-kan]

(This isn't a character I've played. But it's one I've designed, and the backstory keeps burning a hole in my mind (insert obligatory B5 reference here).)

"I was born dying.

"My mother was human, favored of Nerull and touched by draconic influences. My father was some nameless orc, probably chief of her bodyguards. And I was destined for sacrifice, the final component in a ritual to cleanse the entire barony of its filthy, human infestation. I can still feel the cold of their hatred.

"Apparently, I also inherited a tendency for melodrama from someone.

"A local band of adventures thought otherwise. They disrupted the ritual, killed the priestess, and slaughtered the orc horde. When the blood settled, all that was left was miscellaneous treasure and a squalling infant.

"My real father and his companions are not paragons of virtue, but they are men of their word. Their contract was suppression of the cult of Nerull, not killing children. Father claimed me as his reward and returned to seminary.

"Apparently, I was not a difficult baby to raise. I got into everything and I was strong for my age, but listened to what I was told and developed appropriately. I am told even then, I was a bit odd. I watched what was not there; cold never bothered me; animals avoided me. I do not know; I do not remember it.

"Childhood, why not idyllic, was enjoyable. I assisted father in his research and help out around the temple. I played with other children in the city. I was never truly accepted, but I was never an outcast. Being an orphan and half-breed always created some distance. There was also the magic. I was infused with a necromantic energy since birth. It manifested without warning and without control. That furthered any gulf between me and my playmates.

"At six, I entered the temple boarding school. Father decreed a course of study in magic and religion. He hoped for a priest or possibly a wizard for a son, but that was not to be. I never felt called to the Ruby Sorceress's clergy, not felt her divine will manifest itself to me. My studies were intriguing, but never the overwhelming obsession any successful wizard has. Instead, there was my power, untamed and alien to my blood. But it was mine, and I would not dismiss it. My studies lent me understanding of what I was, and what I might be: a sorcerer.

"Boarding school decided, since I was a half-orc, I would receive weapons training. Somebody had to face physical enemies. Our weapons master was a taciturn old dwarf who hated all of us. But he was knowledgeable, and he was fair. We respected that. I enjoyed the training and took to it well. It helped that I excelled with warhammers, a traditional dwarven weapon. I also became enamored of the kukri. It is not Wee Jas's favored weapon, but I enjoy it's exoticness.

"Physical activity helped my focus. I finally gained some control over the necromantic energy running through me. I started manifesting small magics and aquired the nickname Spooky from my dorm mates. Puberty actually increased my control. Magery was looking more and more attainable.

"Then church politics reared its ugly head. Someone decided I would make the perfect component for their summoning ritual. I was charged with necromantic energy and tainted by my mixed blood, so it had to be my destiny, correct? How could I disagree? I was implanted with a mother cyst, and the ritual started.

"Father...disagreed. His strike team seized the renegade temple, freed the prisoners, and killed every heretic they could find.

"Father is not very demonstrative, but I know he loves me. How? He tells me so. And if there is a threat to me, he exterminates it with extreme prejudice. I could have worse role models.

"After my rescue, I turned fanatical in my studies. I pushed myself harder in my martial training. I focused my fear and anger into my magical studies. I researched and pursued divine knowledge of our Lady. I was determined not to be a victim again. It has paid off. My power is tamed, though it will never be truly a part of my being. I have tapped my Lady's divine presence into my magic. I am a sorcerer of some fell power, I have the blessings of Wee Jas on my magic, and I can handle myself in a common tavern brawl or a pitched battle.

"My name is Klotto. I am a half-orc, I serve the Ruby Sorceress, and my magic brings death to her foes. My enemies don't fare to well, either.

"I *told* you I had a penchant for melodrama."

Frostblood Half-orc Stalwart Battle Sorcerer
Frostblood half-orc: dragonblood subtype, Resistance to Cold 10, Endurance (bonus feat), and Vulnerability to Fire.
Martial Weapon Proficiency (kurki) - Battle Sorcerer bonus feat
Martial Weapon Proficiency (warhammer) - Stalwart Sorcerer bonus feat
Weapon Focus (warhammer) - Stalwart Sorcerer bonus feat

1 - Mother Cyst (LM, bonus for flaw), Endurance (PH, bonus for race), Necormantic Bloodline (DragonMagComp), Arcane Fatigue [Flaw] (DragMag333), Divine Companion (for familiar, CompChamp).
2 - N/A
3 - Corrupt Arcane Studies (Ghostwalk).
4 - Dragonblood Sorcerer substitution 4th-level (Races of the Dragon).
5 - Domain Access (for Spells Know, CompChamp).
6 - Charnel Miasma (CompChamp).

Future feats: White Dragon Heritage (DragMagic), Kin Mastery (DragonMagComp).

[Lorddenorstrus]

As depressing as it sounds none frankly. Most characters I've played never really got endings the campaigns got cut short or I quit from bad DMing. I have.. one on going character atm and it's a troll campaign not serious at all and done just for the sake of being funny... (And I have to drive a ways just to get to that one..) Otherwise, I've been stuck as the perma DM of the area because nobody else is apparently competent enough to run the game and keep everyone happy. So I rarely, if ever play. :smallfrown:

[Draconium]

Well, there was my Paladin... Oh, that Paladin...

Mechanically, he wasn't too special - a Lesser Aasimar turned Dragonborn Paladin who worshiped Bahamut, with a plan to take him into Fist of Raziel eventually - but he was so much fun to play. Imagine, if you would, the classic holy knight, crossed with the most bombastic, charismatic, and loudest preacher you can possibly think of. In the first session, he managed to convince an entire town - that he had just saved from a Gray Jester (who went on to become his arch-nemesis) - to convert to Bahamut's religion. He even stuck around, helping pool funds and physical labor so they could build a church.

The best part had to be how honest he was. He was a Paladin in spirit as well as name, who truly wished to help those in need and vanquish Evil wherever it may hide. He went out of his way to help those less fortunate and was a very kind fellow, but absolutely despised servants of Evil - especially worshipers of Tiamat. In the second session, he dueled with one of Tiamat's Paladins of Tyranny, and despite being the weaker of the two, managed to prevail.

Unfortunately, due to certain issues, the campaign ended up dying off. But I would love to play him again one day...

[Sir Chuckles]

There are two characters that I hold near and dear to my heart. Both were very clear examples of the kind of characters I most enjoyed playing.
The first, Jacht Knap (http://www.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=360373), the Human Wizard (Spellslinger)/Magus (Eldritch Archer).
The second, Pente Osseus (http://www.myth-weavers.com/showthread.php?t=330911), the Skeleton Rogue/Swashbuckler.

For the sake of brevity, I've instead linked them to their pages on Mythweavers. Sadly, the first did not see much play. The second saw more, but the game was lost due to unknown reasons. I'd assume the DM lost interest.

One thing I was most proud of for the second was the dialogue. Almost every time the character spoke, I would somehow add the title of an Edgar Allan Poe to the line. Nobody ever noticed it.

Most disheartening of all, however, is that the list of house rules and allowances that came together to make those characters possible may not come around again for a long time.

[jdizzlean]

the last game i was in, years ago, I made a halfling rogue who turned into a wolflord, who turned into a Baron leading a hyppagriff cavalry unit. Complete w/ a coat of arms and everything. Unfortunately, I rp'd the rogue to the extent that I really made the rest of the grp mad at me all the time, but in hind sight, some of the things I did in that game 10 years ago, we still talk and laugh about now.

Nothing says hi to a new group like successfully pick pocketing a half orc for 3 copper in the proverbial "you're all in a tavern" initial meeting :) and then having him use player knowledge to try to argue w/ the DM about how he saw you do it...


Not related to D&D at all, but I'm also playing a Mutants and Masterminds 2e character right now who has a great background that references real things in history, that was fun to create. In the last game for that, I totally threw off the GM by tunneling through the ground to plant c4 on the sub basement of the building an evil super bad guy had warded all to heck and back against intrusion. wards don't stop massive chain explosions, and needless to say the manor, and more importantly the giant demon summoning circle are now kaput :D

that backstory:

ORIGIN:
Born in England in the year of our Lord, 1726. Son of Sir William Mercer, who was Sergeant at Arms to Baron Robert Raymond, recently appointed Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, a position he would hold until death. Raised in the study of the law, both the sword and the shield, Frank was sent to join the King's Army after studying war at the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich's inaugural class of 1741.
Sent abroad in command of a field artillery battery in support of ground forces, Leftennant Mercer proved an able commander. Distinguishing himself time and again in battling the godless heathens that constantly tried to attempt to worm themselves out from under the Crown's just authority.

Granted this day of our Lord, June the 21st, 1750, then Leftennant Frank Mercer of her Majesties Royal Dragoons, 18th Field Artillery, Commanding. For conspicuous gallantry in support of combat arms of the Royal Dragoons in the repression of secessionist intent of citizens of the American Colonies. At great risk and peril of his unit and person, did on said date hold the line, and allow it to be held against overwhelming indigenous forces so augmented by French irregulars that judicious retreat was upon the soldiers of the Line. With superior and accurate firepower, and by detaching two batteries from the main support group, was able to counter a flanking thrust that would have meant the capture of Her Majesty's commanding General, by moving overland the two detached batteries and then bringing accurate, powerful, and sustained fire down upon the attacking force with sufficient strength to force their withdrawal. His actions saved many superior officers, supporting troops, the battle, and not least the Reputation of The Dragoons. Entered on this date and time, a promotion to Captain, as well as induction into the British Order of Chivalry, so decorated with the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, in the rank of Knight Companion. Henceforth let him be known, Sir Frank Mercer, Captain of Artillery, 5th Royal Dragoons.

Shortly after, Major Mercer was again dispatched to the new world, this time to one of the small island nations of the Caribbean to fight an insurrection by the native population. During the battle, his unit was cut off from the main column and set upon by a swarm of Indians. All his soldiers were killed to the man, and as he used his last shot, to fell the chieftain, he was struck by a profound sense of peace. He awoke some hours later, in a different part of the island, upon a stone altar. The altar had several floating orbs of light around it. Frank felt different, but could not say quite what it was that had changed at the time. Running back to the docks, he discovered time had passed him by, and he was truly in a whole "new world".

[Kenzakai]

As with the OP, my favorite character was a High Elf Ranger named Kenzakai. He had just gotten married when he discovered to his horror a wealthy noble had raped and murdered his wife. The two entered a battle that Kenzakai won. He slew the douchey Elf but was condemned for the murder of both his wife and the noble. He was exiled. He returned 50 years later to discover the Elven city leveled by Orcish armies. He has sworn vengeance on all Orcs and later on just evil in general. I really liked him because he was so badass and had an epic Batmanesque voice.

[Jama7301]

I ran a 4e Dragonborn Paladin named Kirin, whom everyone else just called Scales who had a Behemoth mount, actually named Scales.

He was driven by a desire to protect others, and avoided a lot of the "Lawful stupid" type tropes (Well, he was Lawful, and he was stupid, but not Capital L, Capital S). He was a dopey, happy-go-lucky guy who did everything in his power to help others. When a party member was attacked by Loan Sharks (Paper sharks looking to collect debts), he was the first to jump in front of him. He took a decent amount of damage that fight, but his friend was safe, and that's all he cared about.

I miss playing him because he was such a fun guy to be. He was naive, oblivious, foolhardy, and easily talked into doing things, but he was also cheerful, helpful, and a general positive influence.

One of my favorite in character exchanges with another player happened across two sessions. The leader, the Warlord who was attacked by the loan sharks in a later session, and had named the party after himself, had said that he and his "tools" would help the leaders of this city with their issue. After the meeting, my character asked what a tool was, which the Warlord passed off as "it's like a friend". Jump forward a session, when we're dealing with another group of diplomats, and I jumped in saying that I would help them with the problem with this tool, pointing to the Warlord. Because of the situation, he had to grin and bear it and finish the negotiations.

[Ruethgar]

I have a whole series that I like right now, but the two that stand out are Victor Dalen and Alicard Alaric Aimbridge.


https://photos-4.dropbox.com/t/2/AAAJUvZ2yiCl1QusddwBdCFxbvYarSB48jnoyCcWUtquOg/12/18404993/jpeg/32x32/3/1480791600/0/2/Photo%20Dec%2002%2C%201%2026%2041%20PM.jpg/ENO62w0YvbMCIAcoBw/_R3wdtnfT0XI8TGCN-Rxq0eZ3aEhUd13gmHIRDsHvH0?size_mode=3&dl=0&size=1600x1200

Alucard has a few different builds depending on which world I have him in, but almost always 2 levels of Ghost with massive social skill and leadership optimization. He can always diplomance out of things, but if he must battle, he will be support and tactician using a super Aid Other(+6 Att or AC), White Raven maneuvers, Inspire Courage(Weapon Drill because it makes more sense to his character),and with Dungeoncrasher and his Cha focus, he can telekinetically bash people into position while killing them.

Alucard Alistair Aimbridge was born with debilitating frailty, he would have died if not for the power of the village priestess. She blessed Alucard with a bolstering of life, a gift from the local spirits. He remained frail, but it kept him alive and well enough to play and grow as the other children. He always dreamed of being a great warrior. He would pester the guards, guilting them into training sessions until Captain Gerard intervened. He agreed to give Alucard private lessons if he would stop pestering his men, to which Alucard readily agreed. Gerard taught Alucard how to wield a blade, but the vast majority of the training and the lessons were in tactics and command. For a great leader could turn the tide of battle, not with his might alone, but by inspiring his men to greatness.

Alucard was seventeen when they attacked, a neighboring kingdom who considered their spirit worship to be heresy against their gods. They swept through the village, slaughtering innocent people in their crusade, for the glory of their gods. Alucard helped hold them back, aiding the guards as best he could, side by side with the Captain while the young and the old fled across the feilds toward the woods. The sky darkened, arrows. They were firing a volley upon the elders and the children fleeing in the fields. Alucard felt the life drain from him, the magic of the spirits was fading as their worshipers perished, and so too was the blessing that had kept Alucard alive. But he pressed on, defending and assisting the guards, providing openings so they might deliver the killing blows. All the while his strength began to fade. When his vision started to fade, he collapsed on the battlefield, clutching his sword with an iron grip until darkness claimed him.

He awoke to fire. The town was burning. He pulled himself up as quickly as he could, his sword still in hand, and fled the flames as quickly as he could. He looked back at his home, the black smoke rising in an endless pillar to the sky. He prayed to the spirits to grant him the strength to bear the trials ahead, and they replied. A small ball of light swirled into being in front of him and spoke with a hundred voices. "We are the spirits of this land, the ferrymen for this village, and we are the last thread of life keeping you bound to your mortal coil just as you are our last believer granting us power through your conviction." They paused as Alucard bowed, "We do not have power to spare for your strength, but the fading power of our blessing has brought you to the border between worlds as you fade between the land of shadow and the land of light. It is from this duality that you shall draw your strength, the strength to avenge your fallen comrades."

Alucard looked at his hands, his skin was grey as stone and cold as steel. He looked up with a hardened expression, "I shall avenge them and one day restore you to your former glory, I swear upon my family name I shall not rest until this task is complete."

"Thank you Alucard, we shall maintain the blessing upon your soul for as long as it takes, even to our last moments." the spirits said as they faded back into mist.

Alucard stood tall, gazing out over the inferno that was his home. Those responsible, and their families, would pay dearly for their treachery, no matter the cost. And so began the journey of Alucard, and the Scourge of the Ghost King.



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Currently only has one build for a custom world, Tainted Sorcerer for some Blood Magic of course with the Blind Rage and Short Temper flaws. He's a slight Gish with some life-stealing melee and later on a much greater focus on magic over might as he gains control of his urges.

Victor Dalen was a priest of Alucard's village. When he felt their power begin to wane, and saw the guards fall, he knew they would soon perish. He desperately searched his thoughts, there had to be something in his studies that could help him. As he fled and hid and wracked his mind for some way out, an idea crossed his mind. It was abhorrent to even think about, but with his magic quickly draining, he didn't see any other choice. Blood magic.

He knew the rites well enough that he should be able to garner some sort of power. He pricked his finger and began the inscription on the wall in blood as he whispered his prayers to dark forces for aid. And aid they did. He felt the dark power coursing through him, empowering his magic to new heights. And Victor used that power with reckless abandon, cutting through his enemies in a frenzy, their blood fueling his power and clouding his mind with a battle lust that could not be quenched. Eventually they had to ignite the village instead of facing him. And with no more enemies to fight, the corruption of the magic finally began to settle in, wracking his body and mind in otherworldly pain, causing him to howl a bone-chilling scream through the flames.

He awoke in the ashes, with an aching hunger. He could still feel the power pulsing through him, but it had dissipated greatly, but there was still that blood-lust. It consumed his every thought, but he fought against it. He did not know how he was alive but he knew he wouldn't be for long if any scouts returned. He managed to find some rags for clothing that weren't completely burned away and he started his long journey to the next nearest town.

He should have stayed in the woods. His senses were overwhelmed, he could hear every heartbeat, every word of every cretin. He could smell blood in the air and had to fight his muscles with every fiber of his being to keep from ripping out the throats of everyone near him. He worked his way into an alley and cowered there, holding his head and softly crying well into the night as he tried with all of his might to hold himself together. 'What have I done?' he thought to himself, 'what have I become?'

As the people dissipated from the streets as the moon rose, his mind was able to clear, but the hunger was even worse. His will finally broke when a rat wandered a little too close, he snatched it up and before he could even think about what he was doing, he had bitten its neck and was draining its blood. Every drop cleared his mind more and more, the hunger faded to a gentle ache and his blood lust no longer consumed his every thought.

He looked at the disgusting rat in his hands and began to cry. Tears of shame, sorrow, and regret. 'If I had known, I should have known. I should never have dabbled in the dark. I should have died with honor and been carried to the afterlife like everyone else. Now look at me, eating a dirty rat like a bloodsucking monster.'

He dropped the rat and wiped his face on his sleave. He clutched his head in his hands and sobbed to himself, slumped in an alley. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder he looked up to see a young woman in a tavern keeper outfit. "Cheer up there love. Why don't you come to my inn, we'll get you sorted and back on your feet." She held out her hand to help him up. Victor could see the blood pumping through her veins, hear her heart beating. As he grabbed her hand he had to fight the urge to pull her into a bite. But he resisted and followed her in silence, just out of arms reach as she chatted at him.

The inn wasn't far, and inside there were many vagabonds in tattered rags eating soup in the main room. Victor immediately backed against the door. He could smell every one of them, some had open wounds and the blood filled his nostrils and clouded his vision as the hunger seeped in. He looked over them with fear as he fought to restrain himself. And then the lady embraced him, holding him against her, her neck pressed against his face. He began to cry as he felt his mouth opening and turning toward her.

"It's going to be ok love. You're safe here. You don't have anything to worry abou-" screams filled the room as her blood rushed through victor's mouth, he felt his new, dark magic pumping through his veins as he lost control. He watched himself, as if from afar, tearing through the people like tissue paper. His strength enhanced beyond human as he subdued and drained them all dry, women, children, the old and the ill. His blood crazed self was indiscriminate and merciless. Not a single one escaped.

He collapsed in the center of the room, drenched in blood, crying his heart out that he should be so cursed until the guards came. He begged them to kill him, that he was a monster that didn't deserve to live, but they merely arrested him. The moment he set foot in the jail, he fell ill. The dark magic inside him felt like searing iron at each beat of his heart, with every breathe he took, blinding pain.

They brought a priest in to help ease his pain, but the divine magic seared his flesh and the priest went pale. He demanded the guards kill "that creature" at once before it could recover, but they refused, saying he deserved his day in court. The priest hurried off to tell his superiors. Victor blacked out from the pain. He hadn't slept for days, he was beginning to wonder if he could anymore.

He awoke bound in chains of silver, the pain was still there, though dulled to a painful throbbing. He saw the bars of his cell were bent, as if something had tried to rip them apart. He guard had a bandage on his face that wasn't there before and Victor could smell the fresh blood. He looked down in shame, it seems sleep would offer no peace from his monstrous urges. "If it means anything to you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I can't control it."

[Hiro]

I have quite a few but none of them have ever seen play sadly they're quite ...powerful in some ways. Tell me what you think going by name, class and levels alone (and race) If anyone responds, do it in PM to avoid clogging thread?

1: Masako Stormwind: (pathfinder system) Aasimar/Museblooded Life Oracle/Holy Vindicator 20 (10/10 split)

2: Jean Serrano (PF) Advanced Fiendish Half-Umbral Dragon/Human| Fighter 1/Sorcerer 9/Eldritch Knight 10

3: Krieger (PF) Human| Brawler 5/Unchained Rogue 3/Gunslinger 6

4: Syra (PF) Tiefling (with Variant abilities)| Unchained Rogue 10/With 10

[Inevitability]

The funniest thing that happened in that adventure module was a magical housecat, which got stronger after every death but only had 7 lives, that wiped the floor with us. Everyone not down had single digit HP.

Going to steal this now.

[Cirtona Pox]

I have several but I will start with this one:


Cirtona Pox
Told from his perspective

As you may already guess, my name was not what it is now. Put simply, there is power in names so I took a new one. I buried my original name through a ritual so long ago that even truth spells do not reveal it. How can one write a biography without a name? Well then, for now, just call this a story…


Chapter One: Tough Break For Mom
I started life as a human in a land so different from these that I am nearly certain that it was another plane of existence altogether.
My mother left this world at the same time that I entered it and, since my father was killed three months previous in a bar fight over a matter of two gold, I was promptly dropped at the nearest orphanage. For a long time I thought it was because squalor was too good for me. Looking back, I suppose destiny may have been moving me into position. Doing what it needed to do to make me into what I am now.
As I grew up, other children seemed to notice, fairly early I might add, that I was not terribly sturdy. In point of fact, I was physically weaker than most children three years younger and I was considerably less healthy.
As an inevitable consequence I was bullied by every child in the orphanage, save one. Boys and girls alike would all engage in some degree of abuse, be it mental or physical.
In this environment of malnutrition, mental torment, physical abuse, and social dysfunction, there was a single light. Her name was Lillian. She had come to the orphanage when her entire family, her parents and six siblings, had been murdered in their beds while they slept. Nobody knew why they had been killed. Nobody knew why she was spared. Some said that she was in league with demons. Others said that she had done the crime herself. It is amazing what people whisper in the shadows when they can’t explain something.
She was older, though I am not sure by how much (perhaps only two or three years). It was difficult to tell. Her years had been hard. She was the only figure in my life that showed any degree of sympathy. Make no mistake though, while the other children may have left her alone, she was quite pretty and very shy. Her abuse came in a different and much more sinister form – the orphanage administrators.
One night, as I pretended to sleep, I heard muffled screams from the adjoining room. When she returned, she did not speak. She quietly got into her bed and cried the entire night. It happened every night thereafter for three months.


Chapter Two: I May Be Bad But I’m Perfectly Good At It
One fine summer day, we were taken from the orphanage for an outing. This “outing” was nothing more than forced labor at the farm of one of the administrator’s business associates. I had broken away from the other kids and lost my way in the nearby forest for a bit. While I was wandering, I stumbled upon the mangled body of a man. Upon seeing his twisted corpse I did what any typical eight year old would do. I ran. I ran faster than my body could even handle. When I finally reached the farm I was so out of breath that I lost consciousness. I am still not quite sure how I even found my way there but by the time I woke up I was back at the orphanage.
The administrator didn’t want to hear any excuses. In addition to being beaten for wandering off I was whipped several times just for trying to explain why I had left in the first place. I had no real reason. I just went.
I told Lillian about the body and she said that I needed to bury it. Whatever happened to the man, he deserved to be at rest. She wanted to help but they always kept their eyes on her. I had gotten lost once and nobody even noticed until I had come stumbling into the crowd. If I could just sneak away and slip back in, it might work. I told her I would do it. She hugged me and called me brave. That was the first time that I had ever felt truly happy. It was also the last time I saw her. She left the orphanage the next day. They say she was adopted, though I later discovered that she had been sold. The only thing that I remembered was the bat shaped ring on the hand of the man who picked her up.
I returned to the body a week later. It looked as though he had run afoul of a pack of wolves. Perhaps they had gotten to him in my absence. I looked at the remains. How was it that it had been a week and nobody had come before me? Would I suffer the same fate? Cast aside without care enough to even be noticed? It was then that I think the seed of my fate finally began to root.
As I began to prepare the man to be buried I noticed a strange book on the ground. There were markings that I had never seen but, as strange as it sounds, their meanings came easily to my mind.
It did not take me long after reading the first few pages to realize why this man was here and why nobody missed him. He was a summoner, one who calls demons from the darkness. The people of the town feared summoners more than any other beings. It was said that they came from places between the shadows, stealing your dreams and leaving you with nightmares. They were correct, at least to some degree. It takes a dark mind to learn to control demons.
I stared at the drawings and the arcane symbols, taking in what they meant almost naturally. For the first time I had a hope that I could break free from the life that I had and take an entirely new one for myself. A new determination struck me. I left the man’s body where it was. There were three silver coins in his pocket, a king’s ransom compared to what I expected from life. I left them on a rock nearby as well, right in plain sight. As long as he was here, as long as the MONEY was here when I returned, I knew that nobody had come.
I studied the book for weeks. I never told anyone. How I had managed to keep it a secret I will never know. I soaked up the knowledge as fast as I could until I had learned all I could from the book. Though I still had yet to perform my first ritual, I had become a fledgling summoner at the age of nine.
It had only been a month when I ventured to place in the woods, presumably one last time. The circle was drawn. The rite was cast. A creature stepped out from the thick oozes that had formed on the ground during the incantation.
I asked it questions. It was compelled to answer. Those were the rules. I asked about my origins and it spoke the truth. Then I asked where Lillian was and if she was happy. She had been raped and beaten to death by the man that bought her. Her body was left in the woods to rot. The fate of this man next to me had befallen her as well. The fate that horrified her had become her own.
Something snapped. Before I truly realized what I had done, I had already ordered the demon to kill the man, slowly. Very slowly. A light flashed and it was gone only to return several hours later. When I asked if it had been done, the demon gave me the man’s ring (his finger still in it). Upon touching it I witnessed his last agonizing moments through the demon’s eyes. The demon smiled a hideous grin and disappeared in a cloud of black soot.
So that was how it started. One quick motion and justice was served. What other justice could be done? I wondered.


Chapter Three: Six Ways From Sunday
After two more weeks of off and on visits to the woods I was finally caught sneaking in the window. The punishment was swift but harsh. I was whipped until I lost consciousness. I awoke to learn that the entire orphanage had their food rations cut in half (from very little to almost nothing) as a result of my transgressions. The older boys, feeling nothing but contempt for me repeatedly kicked my sides until my ribs were broken.
As I lay on the floor, probably dying, I chanced on rite that I had not performed yet. I drew the demon circle on my chest with my own blood and called forth the most powerful name in that book.
Blinding power erupted through me. Even in a life filled with betrayal and abuse I could never have imagined the sinister thoughts that came pouring through my mind, through my whole body, at that moment. Make no mistake. It wasn’t even a “justifiable” need for vengeance on those who may have wronged me. It was just hate.
I felt myself change, my body mimicking the demons earthly form. The power flowed through me. I doubt that I could have fought against it, though I had no intention of doing so. When I finally released the energy, I tore every man, woman, and child in the orphanage to shreds. My rampage did not stop there. Every person in the village was slain in a matter of minutes. I even caught and murdered any who had fled until all had perished. Somehow, I seemed able to sense life. I did not stop until nothing left.
When it was finally over, I collapsed in the middle of the charred ruins of the orphanage, too weak to move. I finally stirred after what must have been days (judging by my hunger and sunburn), I discovered that my wounds had healed. I gathered some clothes and a great deal of money from the homes and pockets of the slain and I fled. The strangest part was that, when I looked back on that day, I never felt remorse. I never felt unjustified. I was not GLAD that they were all dead but I felt no guilt at being their executioner.


Chapter Four: The C is for CIRCLE (but it makes a nice broken O)
I had been wandering aimlessly for five years, stealing what I needed most of the time, summoning demons to gain blackmail information when I needed money, but all that time never channeling a demon again. When I heard tales of a conjurer that lived deep in the mountains, I sought him out. I needed more knowledge.
He had three apprentices already but I was already more advanced and younger than they were. I believe that his eagerness for me to join them may have been partially based on his belief that he could help me with my own “demons”. Never had anyone been so wrong.
I confess that I only stayed there to add the names of his book to my own. Once I had what I wanted, I sabotaged his circle during a particularly challenging rite. The demon was summoned and promptly carved his way through my "master" in seconds. My rival apprentices, not trusting their circles, made the mistake of trying to flee as well. Either my warding was proof against his will or he was offering some twisted form of gratitude for the opportunity I had afforded him but he made no moves at me, no attempts to break my protection.
When he had returned to The Pit, I collected what valuables lay strewn about. I stripped their summoning books of all useful information and burned the whole building to cinders.
It was very shortly afterward that the visions began.


Chapter Five: Path To Glory / Highway To Hell
I spent four nights at a tavern in a back woods town several days travel from any major city. I was only sixteen but had already taken to drinking and smoking very heavily. I lay half asleep on the end of the bar every night, washing away my sins with more of the same. I had heard stories of drunks picking fights and getting robbed all the time but I never saw any of that. Perhaps I was too pathetic to mess with. Maybe it was the fact that I always overpaid the barkeep that he felt compelled to protect his investment. All I know is that I staggered out the next morning with all of my belongings/body parts still intact and nobody else was dead.
A few times, usually after a particularly profitable extortion, I got a room and a woman for the night.

This where the adventuring part of his tory began. The rest of the story is what went on during the multiple campaigns he has been on.



Captain Trips
As was common to magic users seeking an animal companion, the creature that came to me was much more intelligent than any other of its breed. It was also a reflection of my truest self. Its body was hairless and scarred badly. Spell use of any kind allows you a degree of skill in communicating with lesser life forms. I was able to ascertain the things history just by spending time studying its thoughts.


Captain Trips was an above average rat from his birth. His entire family nest was destroyed by exterminators, with him in it. Inches from death, he happened upon the body of a rogue in the sewer, a half empty healing potion clutched in its hand.
A few licks of the potion and feeling revitalized, he made a new home in the basement of a tavern, where he hid the last of the potion. He made nightly raids on the kitchen with little fear of being hurt.
On one such raid, the cook caught him and threw him into the hearth. He was badly burned and, while his potion saved his life again, the event cost him his hair.
Now his distinctive appearance set him apart from the rest of the city rats. He was more easily recalled by townsfolk. As a result, he formed a reputation as a “one rat plague”, too smart for any conventional means of extermination.
He was called by many names. Some called him “Scarred Skin”, others referred to him as “Nightling”. It wasn’t until Cirtona Pox found him and bestowed great power upon him that he came to be known as “Captain Trips”.
With his heightened awareness and a formerly bad influence of Cirtona, he developed an affinity towards cigarettes and hard alcohol.
His views of humans are expressed in his tattoo of a famous dictator committing suicide with a caption of “Follow Your Leader”. Of his many tattoos, that is his favorite.
Since Cirtona began turning over a new leaf, Captain Trips has been drinking and smoking more and has retained his evil alignment. Even though he is able to speak to anyone, he makes his political views known regularly to Cirtona through their mental communication. Mostly while Cirtona is trying to sleep.

[AzureDidact]

Time Travel games have a tendency to get out of hand.

My favorite character so far was Pent Al'Haris- Minor noble of Jelmaray turned time-traveling demi-god.

The entire game started with the premise of an elemental control based druid- something that would be similar to a batman wizard but with a more elemental flavor. Hijinks kicked off as we realized several very important things.

A. The Elemental Ally Druid Archtype allows you to apply spells that normally apply to animals to elementals.
B. Maximized Awakens make for some really smart elementals.
C. Mythic abilities that grant binding work really well when you have an immortal caster with ambition and a huge bargaining chips.

Pretty soon we were sporting a terraformed, weather controlled Elemental Monastary at the heart of Jelmaray.


Dazing Spell works really well in conjunction with things that both require a reflex save(like Ball Lighting) and multiple saves (Like Ball Lightning).

[danielxcutter]

At this point in his story, it becomes necessary for the purposes of understanding to know a little about the family courts system favoured in house Valis, in all its mad, nonsensical, unfair glory. The plaintiff does not name the accused at first. First, the plaintiff explains the crime committed against them, then the judges (rather than a jury, the family court uses a trio of judges) decide on an appropriate punishment. The logic behind this system is to reduce the number of ways in which the judges could alter their ruling to favour one party or the other, as they don't know how powerful the defendant may be. This ruling cannot be overturned save by an appeal. Then and only then is the accused named, told the sentence they face if found guilty, and allowed to plead their case. If you can't see a dozen ways to abuse this system, there's no hope for you.

Uh... bribe the judges, accuse someone a judge cares about or is otherwise important to them so they condemn them by their own hands... can't think of any ways else, sorry.

[Lvl45DM!]

Shriven, Lawful Neutral Psychic Warrior Hellbred.
Took the Psychic Weapon Master Prestige class and did the whole Karmic Retribution/Robilars Gambit fighting style with a Psychic Flaming Keen Vicious Kuni Crystal spiked chain and a Soulbound Spiked Chain that he would control psionically as well. Introduced him as a servant of the bad guys, and the party dispelled his Charm and he joined them as repentence, seeking to become Lawful Good.

A powerful warrior died. Who was the warrior? We may never know, but he was mighty. When he died, Heaven wished to claim him for he had done many good deeds and he would be useful on the front lines against the encroaching darkness. Hell wanted him, for he was a talented killer, who loved inflicting pain. A monster by nature, hero by deed.

As his soul floated in the Astral Space, an Erinyes sought to tempt him to hell, while a Lantern Archon showed the path to heaven. When he hesistated the Erinyes began to drag him by force, desperate to have him. The Lantern Archon, seeing his mission failing, panicked and blasted the devil, burning the soul as well, forcing the Erinyes to drop him and call for assistance. Seeing legions of devils approaching, the Archon shone a beacon and down came the angels with divine wrath. The warrior's soul was caught between the two mighty forces. The battlefield suited neither side, the losses would be too great, but Lawful beings are loath to give up what they consider to be theirs. A bargain was struck.

A new body would be created, by the devils.
The soul would be placed in that vessel, by the Angels.
And he would be given a second chance, to earn heaven, or to deserve hell.

The devils were cunning, however, and made his body look monstrous, with half melted flesh on a cadaverous skull, eyes burning with the infernal flames. His body would match his mind, and surely he would lash out, they thought.
The Angels were wise, however, and altered the soul, filling it with empathy. He would still be able to choose evil, but never without considering the consequences. Good is the only real choice, they thought.

And then they cast him down to the Prime.

The soul awakened, in agony, his body feeling the effects of being scourged by devils. He had no memory of his past life, but did remember his afterlife. The pain was ungodly, hideous, all consuming. Perhaps a vindictive Erinyes was taking revenge for a quasi-imagined slight, and scourged him too viciously. His life nearly came to an end, soon after being returned. He couldn't move, the pain was so oppressive. He retreated into a place he barely knew, his mind. A brand new mind, few memories, no thoughts or feelings to rely on. A state of thoughtlessness.

The pain lessened.

He struck out the next day, his mental discipline keeping the pain at bay, his minds resilience growing. His body was strong, especially hardy, and he found work as a mercenary in the lands of the orcs. Developing his mental acuity allowed him to summon weaponry at will, sheathe himself in armour, even heal his wounds somewhat.
Battle was a place of peace to him, where he could attain his place of no-thought, and simply fight. He took no pleasure in it however. There was no joy in his life at all. He yearned for battle, but he could not revel in it as the orcs did. Neither did he like intoxicants, the touch of another being, orc or human, music, mirth. Nothing brought him happiness.

That changed when he found her.

Perhaps some distant memory of a life long past, or some symbolic whimsy, or even thinking of the Erinyes rope, made him enjoy and master the use of a spiked chain as his weapon of choice. On a raid on a Mind Flayers lair, deep in the Underdark, the warrior found a vein of pure crystal that sang to him when he focused his mind upon it. He took the crystal, forged a permanent chain and named it "Roxy". Mostly for the pun.

He was hideous even to orcs, and made no friends. Roxy saved him from the madness of social isolation however. When he focused his will upon her, she sang to him. When he cleaned blood and gore off her, she quivered. He needed no other companionship, and stoically continued to fight for his porcine allies.

But orcs are orcs, and soon he was confronted with an unarmed civilian in the midst of a chaotic battle. The nameless psychic warrior stayed his blade, even turned it on his commanding officer. But though he had increased somewhat in skill, their numbers were too great. The orcs beat him, cut off his legs and left him to die in the desert.

With his psionics he stopped the bleeding, and drew sustenance from his own mind for a time, struggling to escape the wasteland. After 2 days of crawling, an enormous shadow fell over him and he went to his place of no-thought, awaiting the end. A great copper claw seized him, and all went dark. The last thing he felt was the cool comforting smooth crystal of Roxy.

The nameless warrior, to his surprise, awoke. He awoke in little pain, which was even more surprising.
A passing Copper Dragon, nicknamed the Iron Duke, had seen his valiant struggle, and saved him. Copper Dragons are not goodly though, and the Duke demanded payment for the rescue. Nameless would fight in his Iron Arena, the greatest gladiatorial contest in the land. Nameless readily agreed, combat was peace, and against other warriors instead of the helpless. Of course, he didnt exactly have mobility anymore, his legs being, well, missing.
"How shall I fight for you?" Nameless whispered through his torn throat.
The Iron Duke chuckled and pulled back the blanket. Two legs, cloven hoofed, redskinned and furry where attached at the leg. "Not exactly the originals, but they do sort of fit your...theme"

His devil legs numbed his pain greatly, the magic that attached them to him increasing his constitution and hardiness. The Devil Warrior fought for many years, exulting in his growing skills, his hardiness but he noticed that over time his mental discipline, less needed to hold back constant agony, less used in combat, was fading. In frustration as his weakness, failing to even summon a single dagger or heal a bruise, he grasped Roxy carelessly and sliced open his hand. The pain flooded him, as Roxy was a potent weapon, and he again acheived the place of no-thought. But while there was no thoughts, his connection to Roxy was such that he could feel her rudimentary emotions. And Roxy liked his blood. The Devil Warrior learned that by carefully cutting himself in certain ways, he could increase his psychic power. And he enjoyed it. The angels had taken his ability to enjoy hurting others, but they didnt reckon on his masochism.

His power renewed, the Devil Warrior, covered in self-inflicted scars, finished paying his debt to the Iron Duke. They parted amenably, the Devil Warrior doing a final show where he slaughtered a half dozen Kytons the Duke summoned for him. As a parting gift, almost an act of friendship, granted him enchanted chain mail. Covered in flaming spikes, made from the chains of the slain devils, it granted him great resistance to flame. Wearing this, and sundry other minor magic items he had earned in his time in the arena, he set out west, seeking a place that might once have been his home, the Wood of the Dryads.

Little did he know that a bumbling group of adventurers had unleashed a terrible evil. Three Dukes of Hell had arisen in the wood. The adventurers slew two of them, but left the third, assuming the Dryads could handle it.

They couldn't.

The Devil Warrior was caught unawares by a squad of legion devils. They subdued him, and brought him to their commander. An Erinyes, named Lilith. One who knew the Devil Warrior well. She still bore the scar of the Lantern Archons light beam. She laughed as they dragged the warrior, bound in his own beloved chain. Her wrath was great and terrible. Calling in several markers with her mistress, Fierna, Duchess of the Fourth layer of Hell, Lilith dragged the Devil Warrior to Hell, body and soul. On the fourth layer of hell there is a device known as the Shriver. The most sophisticated torture device in the history of the multiverse. That is where the Devil Warrior suffered. For 3 days and nights his body was lashed, twisted, mutilated and healed to go around again. A chain from the device ripped his throat open, and silenced The Shriven's screams. Only long practice of going to his place of no-thought, allowed him to survive the torture.

Liliths bloodlust was satiated, and she took the Shriven One to her bower and showed him all the delights that only an Erinyes can. The Shriven could handle pain, knew how to fight it, even enjoyed it. Pleasure was alien to him except through pain. And Lilith could dole out both in equal measure. What went in was a broken body. What came out was a broken soul.

Lilith brought his body and soul back to the Prime and sent him to war for Typhus, the Devil Lord at war with the Wood. The Shriven became Liliths enforcer, his chain threshing the wheat that were the warriors of the fey. His powers grew ever more, letting him heal his wounds by forcing them on others and letting him wield Roxy remotely, using only his mind. When doing so he was not unarmed however. The piece of his throat still attached to the Shriver's chains allowed him to summon it to his hand, as his soul and body were one. This soul bonded chain was malleble in form and power, letting him tune it to be especially vicious against whatever type of foe he faced. Lilith noted however, that his fighting style grew ever more suicidal, allowing his enemies easy shots at him in exchange for his punishing rejoinders. Astride a Phantom Steed, summoned by a statuette he took from a fey knight, his flaming chain, and skull like visage, he brutalized the fey, and was brutalized in turn.

But his bondage would not last forever.

The bumbling adventurers were returning to the woods to clean up their mess. They had recently lost two members of their party, and so they were delighted when they stumbled upon a druid with a great wolf companion. The wolf led a pack and their party was strong enough to handle any diabolical squad. So when out of the woods came a legion of devils, led by a burning eyed, skull faced, chain-wielding warrior, wreathed in flame astride a ghostly steed they did not hesitate. Dragonborn Barbarian, Human Paladin astride a pegasus, a Dwarven Wizard and an Aasimar priest stood with their new druid ally rapidly dispatching the legion, while the wolf pack attempted to kill their leader.

But Shriven was hardy enough to survive the dozen bites and his fighting style was perfectly suited to mowing down many lesser enemies. He killed every wolf with his soul bound chain, as Roxy attacked the Druids companion wolf. Seeing this 'magic' the Dwarven sorcerer cast a spell to remove all magic from the Shriven One.

The party stared, amazed, as this hellknight collapsed, sobbing, the Charm of the Erinyes removed. He wept and beat his chest, and cradled his kills, begging to be punished for his crimes. The party looked to the druid, and asked her what they should do with this penitent killer.

The druid was a Shifter, descended from werewolves, and had a keen sense of smell. She approached the beast soaked in the blood of her friends, and sniffed him. Declaring that he "smelled of sadness" she knelt, healed his wounds, and asked for his help burying the dead. He looked up, tears running from his eyes, and started to dig. The Paladin joined him, and Shriven listened intently as the Paladin explained the concept of atonement, of redemption. When the wolves were buried, Shriven offered his chain to the Paladin, asking the Paladins blessing for the chain, stopping it from performing evil again. The Paladin prayed and chanted, and Roxy sang in response. The Viciousness that had plagued her for so long was turned into Sacred power. The chain, once a black, twisted angular bloody mess of jagged crystal, lightened to a sparkling diamond like structure, though still shot throughout with grey and black pollution, as the wielder was still hampered by a love of pain and war. Shriven pledged his service to the Paladins cause, and his life to the Druid and her wolf. He would kill that bitch Lilith. He would rise into heaven and laugh as the devils gnashed their fangs and stomped their hooves. He would save this forest.

He would atone.

Thats backstory and the first session.

He sadly only lasted 5 session, 4 of which were one huge fight, defending a wall from a devil army. Then he saved the party from a TPK, but ill finish that story another tie.

[danielxcutter]

Wow. Shriven is frickin' awesome. Great story!

[Lvl45DM!]

Wow. Shriven is frickin' awesome. Great story!

Thanks! He started off as me wanting to play Ghost Rider, but he turned into his own character and it was awesome.


Time Travel games have a tendency to get out of hand.

My favorite character so far was Pent Al'Haris- Minor noble of Jelmaray turned time-traveling demi-god.

The entire game started with the premise of an elemental control based druid- something that would be similar to a batman wizard but with a more elemental flavor. Hijinks kicked off as we realized several very important things.

A. The Elemental Ally Druid Archtype allows you to apply spells that normally apply to animals to elementals.
B. Maximized Awakens make for some really smart elementals.
C. Mythic abilities that grant binding work really well when you have an immortal caster with ambition and a huge bargaining chips.

Pretty soon we were sporting a terraformed, weather controlled Elemental Monastary at the heart of Jelmaray.


Dazing Spell works really well in conjunction with things that both require a reflex save(like Ball Lighting) and multiple saves (Like Ball Lightning).

This is an awesome combo and a hilarious sounding campaign. I love it when characters change the direction and their actions ripple across the campaign world

[Tindragon]

From long ago, an AD&D (1e) campaign, a simple human wizard, in a harsh world. Started him at level 1, made it to level 11. Doesn't sound super special, but understand, that under this DM (and it was FUN) we rarely made it through level 7 in his world.

This Wiz managed to not only survive, but flourish, and since the very powerful (non deities) were typically level 8-10, he was known as a very powerful mage, who managed, with some minor assistance from a group of warriors and minor priest, vanquish a dragon, take it's lair as his own, build a keep upon it, and rule a minor County/State for nearly a year.

He died teleporting into solid stone... :(

[Inevitability]

From long ago, an AD&D (1e) campaign, a simple human wizard, in a harsh world. Started him at level 1, made it to level 11. Doesn't sound super special, but understand, that under this DM (and it was FUN) we rarely made it through level 7 in his world.

This Wiz managed to not only survive, but flourish, and since the very powerful (non deities) were typically level 8-10, he was known as a very powerful mage, who managed, with some minor assistance from a group of warriors and minor priest, vanquish a dragon, take it's lair as his own, build a keep upon it, and rule a minor County/State for nearly a year.

He died teleporting into solid stone... :(

This is why I grant 'immunity from stupid deaths' in my game once the characters reach a certain level. If your cleric is the Archpriest of Aregonator who's slain demons, freed nations, and made many powerful enemies, it's anticlimactic for them to die to a fumbled Climb check and a 200 feet-drop.

[PrismCat21]

The funniest thing that happened in that adventure module was a magical housecat, which got stronger after every death but only had 7 lives, that wiped the floor with us. Everyone not down had single digit HP.

Totally taken from Fablehaven: Book 1. :elan:
I've done the same. The party laughed it off as first mocking how easy it was to beat. ...but it just kept changing and getting stronger and more magical after every death.
They quickly grew panicked and barely survived. They've been paranoid about every black housecat they come across since. :P

[TheifofZ]

Hmm. I guess the... well. 3 I'm most proud of would be Chalky the Necromancer, Ridrim The Overly-Titled, and Felix the Rogue. In order of their campaigns.
Chalky was one of my first characters ever, and for what he was, he was a heck of a lot of fun.
I built and played him in a low OP game with a group that was barely aware of how many books there were, let alone all the fun shenanigans that you could really get up to, but I still got up to some ridiculous stuff, to the point that I was basically a second party on my own.
First: there was my ever growing 'collection' of undead, including but not limited to: A young adult red dragon zombie, a Gargantuan Crab Zombie/mobile house, and by far the silliest: a rust monster that was permanently polymorphed into a sheep, slain, zombified and then covered in Explosive Runes, which the party lovingly dubbed the Forwardly-mobile-trap-detection-and-ordinance-unit, or sheep-bomb for short. ... Which somehow outlasted nearly everything else I had except the Crab and the Red Dragon.
Second: The time I killed an entire fortress on my own using Magic Jar to body-surf and jump everyone in the fortress off the gigantic walls except the last two, who I set into a duel to the death and then sat back and watched.
Third: Because I'd maxed Bluff and Disguise, I was able to literally march a legion of murderous undead wherever I pleased without much issue from the local guards. And one memorable time, persuade both the city guards and the party that no, I hadn't seen me run past just now, that the huge wall had been just down this alley for at least 3 days and certainly wasn't a pile of undead all holding up wooden planks, and that I definitely didn't sound like someone that would zombify all the corpses in the city graveyard just so I could stuff all the heads in a barrel to make some form of crude negative-energy bomb.

Ridrim the Overly-titled was...
Let's start with bombastic, over the top, and hammy good fun, and move from there.
I played him in a gestalt campaign, and at the DMs OK, minmaxed him to high and low heaven with the intent of creating the most ridiculous dive-based ubercharger ever.
And then I gave him a bloodknight personality that loved being, well, hammy. So he'd pose dramatically while spouting an introduction, one which included an ever growing list of self-declared (but all well earned) titles for every impressive deed he completed, on the first turn of every combat... and then just the first combat of every session when we got about a quarter of the way through the campaign. And then just for boss fights, in the last half.
Because by the end of the campaign, the list of titles was so long it took the better part of 5 minutes to read all of them aloud.
Which was, coincidentally, enough time to figure out roughly how many dice I had to roll for my first attack's damage, and how high the damage modifier was.
There was actually a lot of character growth that went on over the campaign too, going from an overzealous and generally untested newbie into a battle hardened veteran who wondered if all the power he was gaining was actually worth it.
And then he over-killed an over-diety in one turn. So Ridrim became the Overdiety after that, and the campaign ended there.

And then there's Felix (Which was not his real name) (played in 5e).
I was ambitious with Felix; I gave the DM 2 backstories. One of them was the one we gave the rest of the party, and the other one was the real one.
As far as the characters in the party knew, Felix was a vagabond soldier with a talent for sneaking and skullduggery. They respected him as a trustworthy, if underhanded, friend and expected him to stay loyal, not just to save the world, but because of their friendship.
The players knew that, out of game, I was up to something, and that Felix was alot more than he seemed.
The DM knew, and the players later learned, that Felix was actually a street-thug turned assassin turned soldier turned traitor, moving from the nation the party's home nation was at war with to the one they all lived in. He was underhanded, untrustworthy, and while he wasn't actively working against the party for most of the campaign, there were times when (with the other player's understanding and okays) he actively sold the party out, being motivated almost purely by wealth. [Though he never stole gold directly from other PCs, he would usually make sure to collect rewards on his own, and skim a little extra off the top.)
The in character party learned that he hadn't been honest with them basically the entire time when, in the finale, while the BBEG was enacting the final stages of his plan, he had Felix actively double-cross the party, only for Felix to throw a dagger into his eye just before he could finish his final summoning incantation, and then free the party as a triple-cross. All to ensure that Felix won a bet for 200GP with said BBEG that was made at the start of the campaign (literally 3rd session in): The wager was that Felix would kill the BBEG before the villain could finish whatever his plan was. Felix remembered the bet, the BBEG (And literally everyone at the table including the DM) had not; they'd expected to have to fight Felix along with the BBEG. Instead, the final boss fight turned into a curb stomp battle, and after I explained the entire ploy I'd been running, the players were all impressed by my dedication in- and out- of character.
The in character party was just confused, having received no explanation at all before Felix had looted his 'fair' share+ the 200 GP wager and vanished into the shadows.