View Full Version : Cool Characters

2007-08-29, 06:56 PM
I wanted to start a thread about people's cool characters and their backstories. I was inspired by Alexi's guy from anpother thread, which was very good, and wanted to see some other characters.

I also feel this is a great way to broaden character making because it allows players to see other possibilities ( seriously, i have been playing with the same group for 3 years and their characters are stale like bad toast).

So any cool concepts or backstories are welcome :smallsmile: !

2007-08-29, 07:00 PM
D&D Only or across the board?

Ghal Marak
2007-08-29, 07:10 PM
Oh, I've got one. I don't know if it's cool in anyone elses eyes, but I like it. It's a Warforged Swashbuckler/Warlock!

Felix (http://www.thetangledweb.net/profiler/view.php?id=20106)

Mr. Moogle
2007-08-29, 08:06 PM
Kenneth Strongfist is by far my greatest creation (named after Kenny from south park because all my previous charictars that campain had died). He's a level 11 swordsage//monk of destert wind, with an uncanny nack for dealing huge amounts of damage with his (trademarked) Flurry + searing brand + +5 Fists.

2007-08-29, 08:46 PM

Grtunth of the High Plains.
Barbarian, native american flavor. Yes, he has the royal order of the water buffalo hat. Yes, he was awesome.

2007-08-29, 09:04 PM
I refer mainly to DnD characters, but any are welcome.

BTW Ghal, the rapier is called Gigas? :smallsmile:

I've got a guy, he was origionally a concept i wanted to play, but decided to make him as an NPC for my world. He is a Shadowthief (basically rogue with shadowjump instead of trapsense, int to AC, and less skills), and has a few templates.


Ghal Marak
2007-08-29, 09:13 PM
BTW Ghal, the rapier is called Gigas? :smallsmile: http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=60452

Well, what else what I would call it? Tinus? Thinius? Besides, I didn't have anything better. :smallbiggrin:

EDIT: Also, Gigas is a freaking awesome name.

2007-08-29, 09:17 PM
I have no clue. I just always thought of Gigas as a lance, or a BIG hammer... maybe you could glammer the rapier to look like hammer :smallsmile: :smallsmile: ! (ha ha glammer the hammer!)

2007-08-29, 09:22 PM
Got a ton :smallsmile:
*rifles through character sheet stack* I'll be uber-polite and use spoiler tags since I'm putting up more than one character.

Xeliaptolametycoria Valigkekktera Maglallivivex

But really, just call me Xel. (and the main part of the name translated, very roughly, to Blistertongue... so I was usually refered to as Xel Blistertongue)
Barbarian/Dragon Disciple (red) (with a level of Sorc)
Was raised entirely by a vicious and notoriously evil red dragon. "Dad" was notorious for eating children (considered them a delicacy), and there was no one in the area strong enough to actually stop or slay him. A local church who had a few ties to Bahamut came up with a solution. They 'blessed' the dragon with a magical compulsion. It was the strongest thing they could successfully do to him. The compulsion was that he had a strong desire to see the children of other races grow healthy and strong.
The blessing he received was what we call a Very Bad Idea. It was potent enough magic that he obeyed it, but he was horribly, horribly evil. To him, seeing the children of other races grow healthy and strong meant becoming their surrogate father (through force) and ensuring that they grew up struggling with violence and mental trauma, as struggle breeds strength.
His cave turned into a menagerie of other races, only a few of us human. I was among the youngest of the humans he kidnapped from the nearby village that blessed him to begin with (before he wiped them out entirely), a baby who grew up in his caves from my earliest memory. He let anyone with a name keep theirs, but gave the youngest of us names more fitting of a draconic "heritage". He also ritualistically burned our arms/legs/backs in a scale pattern as we grew up, just a part of life.
We (his "kids") managed to collectively destroy him when I was only 14, and we generally stuck together for a while, using his substanial hoarde for survival. Eventually we all split out of disgust and prudence.
That's the backstory.
In the nitty-gritty, my character thought she had overcome her dark past, and honestly beleived that she was a champion of good, but she was actually closer to true neutral. She was wicked and cunning and unforgiving, and wholey, unrepentedly brutal. I had a lot of fun with that character, ranging from "so dispassionate it makes ascetic monks uncomfortable" to "Here comes the flames and fury"

Also, from the "Kinda Silly But Still Pretty Cool" files

Annette Corina Hellsing

Urban Variant Range/Foe Hunter
who was, naturally, a vampire hunter, and the current last descendant of the Hellsing bloodline. The Hellsings had a problem with always being the last of their bloodline, for obvious reasons.
Backstory is totally cliche of course, when your family bloodline has an ongoing fight with one of the worlds most vicious and cunning vampires, your history is going to be a tad predictable. My stated goal was to find a way to put Big Bad D-Man down, for good (which I "supposedly" accomplished by dragging him, kicking and screaming, into the positive energy plane itself. Not that Draculas death ever sticks)
One thing I loved about the character was that the DM let me have something ridiculously cool. In a low-tech level campaign, I had the only two flintlock pistols in existance, Hellsing family heirlooms by a crazy inventor (artificer) hellsing. I grew up reloading them, and when prepped I could reload them fast enough to fire once a round each. Okay, not really ideal from a crunch standpoint, but the DM also gave them to me as 3d4 damage weapons with a crit multiplier of 4.
And of course, plenty of blessed silver bullets :smallbiggrin:

2007-08-29, 09:34 PM
DUDE THAT ROCKS! (gives a large bow to the new Hellsing)

That guy is kind of like a CN drow fighter i made who used nothing but crossbows. He even had a mithral heavy repeatin one that he could mount on a tripod (yeah, i know a medievel gattling gun is pushing fantasy, but it was so awesome!) I wish I had the sheet still... maybe i will remake him!

2007-08-30, 10:00 AM
This guy is one of my more amusing character concepts. Just started playing him though, hence the elpises.

Fenrus was the smallest pseudodragon in the clutch. His small size and tiny stinger made him a perfect target for the larger, fiercer more foul tempered hatchlings. Unable to defend himself with his claws and teeth Fenrus sought out other means. You see, despite being far smaller than his scaly fellows he was quite a bit brighter. So, when a party of adventurers passed through the forest of his birth he made off with the traveling wizards scroll case.

All of a sudden, Fenrus' problems were over. True Strike and Acid Splash can make quite an impression on an unsuspecting juvenile pseudodragon it seems. But the scrolls only lasted so long. Soon, Fenrus found himself combing the forest looking for passing bands of adventurers he might swipe more scrolls from. But not all wizards are as detached from reality as the first one and on one of his attempts he was caught in the act.

Fenrus, scroll of Magic Missile in claw, had no choice but to try to fight his way out. This, of course, didn't work. Although he managed to activate the scroll and cast the spell it was, after all, only a scroll of Magic Missile and these were serious adventurers he had attempted to rob. Fortunately for our scaly little hero the party wizard, an elf named Honeth, was very impressed by the tiny dragon managing to activate the scroll at all and rather than punishing him, he adopted him!

And so Fenrus fell into the study of magic. Honeth was a good person but was rarely stationary enough, what with the adventuring and all, to make much of a teacher. After a few years both he and Fenrus realized this and with mutual sadness, they had in this time become quite familiar, parted ways. As a parting gift Honeth gave him a Boccob's Blessed Book and secured Fenrus an audition with Leomund Hall, a relatively prestigious magical university.

Lo and behold he won a scholarship! Realizing the opportunity, and no longer having to dodge giants and necromancers, Fenrus dedicated himself even more to the study of arcane mysteries. He was an excellent student.

Being different is hard though and Fenrus certainly was that. In an institute mainly composed of elves, humans, and gnomes, he was the only dragon of any kind. At least, that he knew about. The ridicule of his childhood returned. Daily he had to deal with being mistaken for someone else's familiar. In an attempt to make friends, he specialized in creating magical items and generously gave his creations to other students in the hope of finally being accepted. It didn't work. Oh, they liked the gifts enough all right, but they still mocked him behind his tail and Fenrus knew it.

What was worse, most of his professors wouldn't take him seriously either! Once a particularly unpleasant human transmuter named Burke even referred to him as 'a material component waiting to happen' in front of the entire class. The name stuck. Even though his work was far superior to that of most of the other students Matty (as he was now called even to his face) somehow never managed more than a C in all but a few classes.

Eventually, fed up with the whole endeavor, he dropped out. He was already a better wizard than most of the graduates and he knew it, even if no one else seemed to. Striking out on his own he had little luck. He bounced from town to town, selling his magical services to the few who would take him seriously enough to give him a chance. That of course was until he met the Order of the Dragon Song...

2007-08-30, 11:00 AM
Is the PsuedoDragon guy a wizard, or an artificer? either way, thats a really unique idea (i lke o you are a monster cass, but not yet another sucubus or ogre/barbarian). kudos for a cool character.

2007-08-30, 11:24 AM
most of my character concepts are pretty simple to begin with, so none of these are going to feel all that extraordinary.

The family guy hedonist that is tagged with every possible wierd fetish has (scarily enough) spawned not one, but TWO characters for me.

Pishken Erwin III

He was my first 3E character. He was a guy with a slight self-perception issue. He always fancied himself to be a character who is larger than life in an Errol Flynn kind of fashion but really, he's just a decent warrior with an overactive libido. If superheroes were culturally relevant to the setting, he would fancy himself as one or at least strive to be one.

He eventually DID prove to be a hero indeed. But not really in the fashion that he'd thought. Because he's a man of little creativity, the one thing he always thought would cement his role as a hero is slaying a dragon. He eventually did just that, but then he realized other than giving him a slight synergy to picking up women, it didn't really do much in the way of his career.

version 2

In a different game, I ran a bard who was just like quagmire. I thought it would be nice to play a Quagmire that actually knew how to seduce women. Ironically, while the abilities were more suitable, he just wasn't nearly as fun because now he actually succeeds in his cheesy/crappy pickups. Suddenly he lost a good deal of his charm.

Jada'a Yoleese

Jada'a is a paladin of the setting's nature god. She's the pennacle flower child at heart and was a very earthly kind of woman. This much is not really all that special. What DID make her special was how horribly average her stats were. I think she had a combined modifier of about +3 at generation. She had like, 3 13s, and a bunch of 10s.

However, I stuck with her and just played her through till about level 4 when she finally bought the farm. But man, I tried to batman every encounter with her to the point that at times, she felt more like a rogue than a paladin.


Half-orc grave digger turned barbarian. A child-like gentle giant whose normal behavior clashes ever so strongly with his barbarian side. Again, not a very special concept. What made him special to me was how he interacted with the party rogue, a miniature mastermind like guy who would manipulate poor stupid Rop into doing stunts that are far too dangerous for his own good. Poor Rop never realized how abusive and dysfunctional his relationship with him was and considered the rogue to be his best friend

like I said, none of these guys are really all that special. What made them special was the way they played out.

2007-08-30, 11:30 AM
all of my coolest characters had one thing in common:

trenchcoats. they are FREAKING AWESOME

2007-08-30, 11:38 AM
That guy is kind of like

Annette ain't a guy! :smalltongue:

I thought it would be nice to play a Quagmire that actually knew how to seduce women.

Hey, Quagmire seduced lots of women. It was just that he was entirely hit or miss, his lines either worked like a charm, or got him maced :smallwink:

2007-08-30, 11:41 AM
Hey, Quagmire seduced lots of women. It was just that he was entirely hit or miss, his lines either worked like a charm, or got him maced :smallwink:
Yeah, but with the bard, he was succeeding a lot more often than him getting maced. Ironically enough, this actually made him LESS fun for me. I think part of his charm was just how hard luck he was with them.

2007-08-30, 11:41 AM
I second both the trenchcoat (or cloak depending on the period) and the "way uo play the character" concepts.

Immagine though, a man in a trenchcoat, with awesome abilities, AND a good backstory! Th-This is THE ULTIMTE CHARACTER!

And i shall clarify, that "guy" is a general term I use frequently in place of the word character, without intending it to partian to gender, race/species, or realy anything.

Paragon Badger
2007-08-30, 11:42 AM
Halfling Barbarian.


The mouse tribe's herd animal? Why, only the world's largest species of guinea pigs, of course.


Coincidentally, due to his sheltered lifestyle, Bigglestaag had a fear of anyone taller than 4' feet, mainly because of the village elders neglected to tell anyone that those 'mythical humans, elves, and orcs' were taller than your average halfling.

2007-08-30, 11:46 AM
I made a 'forged druid whose entire body was a giant holy symbol! His name was Mudd, and his comp plates were iron wood. he was prolly my favorite divine caster ever, just because he had lived in a druid coven his entire life, and after they were killed, he decided to go off and avenge them. The only prob was that he was incrdibaly naive, and NG gullibul all the way.

PS: giggiy giggidy GIG-UH-DEE! :smallbiggrin:

2007-08-30, 11:48 AM
Is the PsuedoDragon guy a wizard, or an artificer? either way, thats a really unique idea (i lke o you are a monster cass, but not yet another sucubus or ogre/barbarian). kudos for a cool character.

Wizard. Not in the Erb. campagin setting.

and thanks! ;-)

I second both the trenchcoat (or cloak depending on the period) and the "way uo play the character" concepts.

Immagine though, a man in a trenchcoat, with awesome abilities, AND a good backstory! Th-This is THE ULTIMTE CHARACTER!

And i shall clarify, that "guy" is a general term I use frequently in place of the word character, without intending it to partian to gender, race/species, or realy anything.

So, what you are saying is you really like the Dresden Files novels as well as the Nightside Novels?

2007-08-30, 11:51 AM
Never heard of either one, but if they comine coatsand characters in a way that is fashionable, then they are good. Thats it, no question. Seriously, you can't defeat a man clad in a cool enough trenchcoat. I once tried to convince the DM to give me cha to AC as a "coolness bonus" because of my cool cloak and gloves.

Also, this is off topic, but can i use the "awaken spell" spell you made? I was gonna make a living fireball druid who guards stuff for my fire god!

Paragon Badger
2007-08-30, 11:54 AM
Never heard of either one, but if they comine coatsand characters in a way that is fashionable, then they are good. Thats it, no question. Seriously, you can't defeat a man clad in a cool enough trenchcoat. I once tried to convince the DM to give me cha to AC as a "coolness bonus" because of my cool cloak and gloves.

Do you bend backwards and wave your arms around whenever you make a reflex save?

2007-08-30, 11:57 AM
Never heard of either one, but if they comine coatsand characters in a way that is fashionable, then they are good. Thats it, no question. Seriously, you can't defeat a man clad in a cool enough trenchcoat. I once tried to convince the DM to give me cha to AC as a "coolness bonus" because of my cool cloak and gloves.

You might want to look into them. Dresden Files is by Jim Butcher (recently made in to a godawful scifi show... read the books) and the Nightside books are Simon R. Green.

Also, this is off topic, but can i use the "awaken spell" spell you made? I was gonna make a living fireball druid who guards stuff for my fire god!

Of course. It says so right in my sig ;-)

2007-08-30, 12:01 PM
No, bnding was "to lame" for this guy, he would just swirl his cloak and deflect stuff (seriously he deflected a sonic lance and collapsed a cavern!)

The guy was kind of a snob, but was just full of badassery.

2007-08-30, 04:29 PM
From D&D:

Manar, the Confused Redeemer (Varen_Tai's A Paladin's Heart)

"Destroying evil is easy--all it takes is a little skill and a sharp sword. But bringing it back--there, my friend, is the challenge."

A former street musician who had been "tapped" for a Lathanderite paladin order devoted to the redemption of those who had fallen to evil, she bases her morals on three things: Her code, the ballads of redemption against all odds that had permeated her repertoire before she was tapped, and the teachings of her mentor, Florian (quoted above), a long-since ex-pickpocket with a strong sense of humor and an unorthodox way of handling the redeemer aspect quintessential to the order's modus operandi. Spent the last couple of years on field training, during which she helped to defend a small village from kobolds, was assigned to try to bring back someone who--well, let's just say rather shook her faith in her Order's tenet that anyone short of an outsider could be redeemed--and in general made herself useful. She's inherited her mentor's unorthodox approach to things, as evidenced by her saving one of her new teammates from embarrassment by rewriting an embarrassing ballad about him on the fly.

As of now, she serves as greeter and local guide for a cross-Order band made up entirely of paladins, brought together for some other purpose--but the illness of her mentor and her divine orders to stay put are making her job a tad difficult.

She was designed because.... well, because I'm far too fond of redemption stories, and the concept just begged to be made.

Tala, the Ice Spirit (The Vorpal Tribble's Dying Ember)

She's a case of my going a bit overboard with my thematics--that tends to happen with my characters. There's two major "colors" to her--one is the ice spirit feel that comes from her being a quintessential arctic gnome, and small and frail even by gnomish standards, while the other is her rather wolflike properties of loyalty, teamwork (within reason), and perseverance. One of the most interesting things about her is her devotion to her animal companion, a wolf by name of Mahele (the term is Druidic in origin, and means "loyalty")--she'd first met him saving his litter from scavengers while his mother was out hunting, and he'd pretty much been following her around ever since, to the point where he saved her from the bandit raid that wiped out her caravan, and after she was taken in and trained by the druids--well, she'd pretty much expected him to be the one to answer her summons. In a bit of an inversion of the usual druid/companion role, she sees him as her spirit-guardian--I never really found out just how true her view of him was--and, inspired by an order of individuals who develop a close bond to their flying mounts, she's been looking for a way to think with him. She's fiercely independent, utterly dedicated to those who seem worthy of her respect (as of last count, most of her party qualified), can't stand to be seen as not carrying her own weight.... and a bit sensitive about her height.

Alta, the Ill-Fated Demon Hunter

She was my second creation as an NPC-for-hire, a devoted cleric of an order of fanatical demon-hunters who had been assigned to make sure the squad they'd.... commandeered from various places did what they were told in the demon wars. What they saw was a cold young woman who was completely dedicated to the war effort--what nobody ever got around to finding out before she was (nearly? I was never entirely sure on the details) killed by one of the people she was supposed to be keeping an eye on during her first raid was that she'd... well, it was pretty much the typical "lost family to demons, vowed revenge"-type story. Let's face it, she was a last-minute character.

And then I was separated from the group for a little while, and while they were off being heroes, Alta was off having moral crises. The first near-death experience had shaken her faith that her Order's methods were right, and with the gods being silent, she began taking counsel more and more in what her daughter would have said. And then she was nearly killed again, and treated in a facility that had already been infiltrated by Ulas, one of the three half-fiend siblings her Order was trying to destroy--and what easier person for a demon to turn to his service than a cleric with a perpetual moral crisis?

And now? Well, she's back with her group, her current modus operandi is "What can I do that keeps the bloodshed to a minimum", and she's gone free-agent, not really working for the Chalice or the demon, while she tries to sort through who's right and what to do about it.

Rianna Lasul, Dragon Knight

One of my less-backstoried characters, her main feature upon her introduction midway through the campaign was being the bitter ex-girlfriend of the BBEG. Seriously. (This led to some of the group's favorite lines, such as the classic "Voomy? Pick up the amulet, I know you're there, and you have some explaining to do.") When she joined the motley band of adventurers trying to foil the plans of her ex, she ended up as the primary teambuilder--and equally primary muscle. In combat, she and the team's druid have pretty much mastered the "rhinoceros gambit"--wild shape. Far too many charge-based feats. 'Nuff said.--and out of combat, she serves as protector, confidante, and occasionally common sense for the team's slightly gothy elf cleric.

Jillian, Knight of the White Tower

The rank was an accident, I swear....

The campaign was supposed to be a backstory for the campaign in which I was playing Rianna, and we were at the time centered around an organization known as the White Tower--basically, a bunch of fightery and wizardy types defending the world from the evil country in the north, led by their council and represented by the Knight of the White Tower. (Might've been Knights; I was never clear on that part). Jillian was a native of the neutral zone around the Tower, a descendant of several prior Knights of the White Tower, so when the current one retired, she leaped at the chance to join the candidates to take his place. There were just a few minor catches. One, White Tower magic was primarily wizardry, and Jillian was a sorcerer (well, actually, a sorcerer-paladin multiclass, but who's counting?). Two, there were a LOT of candidates. Three--at the time, the White Tower was still more than mildly sexist. So she was a dark horse, basically in the runnings just to open up the way for those who would come after her.

At least, that was the original plan. Then we had the session in which we ran into Darklord, the corresponding inspirational figurehead of the northern country, and.... well, she was supposed to run, but the guy walked into a flank between her and one of the other candidates for Knight, and she wasn't one to let an opportunity like that pass her by. And... well, suffice it to say that at the time she only knew one second-level spell, but that one happened to be Wraithstrike.

The White Tower, it turned out, had a very potent weapon against Darklord. And it was very hard to tell who was more surprised: the Tower, Darklord, or the weapon herself. Either way, by the end of that session, everyone pretty much knew who the next Knight of the White Tower would be.

From Exalted:
Shoat of the Mire, Version 2.5

For those of you who aren't familiar with that particular portion of the setting fluff, the original Shoat of the Mire is a canonical deathknight, a killing machine in the body of a ten year old girl, the sole servant of the creepiest deathlord in the setting. Now, ordinarily I avoid touching canonical characters if I can help it, but I'd already used a rewrit version of her as an NPC in my game, I really needed an Abyssal for a game my assistant was running off my timeline, and there she was. And I wanted to see how well I could do creepy.

What I ended up with still looked like the deceptively frail canonical Shoat. Mostly. Then add on little traits like having been raised on stories of famous deathknights (there ended up being two individuals in the party she practically hero-worshipped, and another who was merely alluded to for whom she was an utter fangirl), the deathknight equivalent of an obsession with bugs and dinosaurs (Labyrinth Zoobooks was a running joke), a practicality that far outweighed that of two of her perpetually bickering teammates ("Children, BEHAVE!"), a tendency to bypass every fight put in front of her by either name-dropping or using the "lost child on a Harrowing" gambit.... and then there was Lisbet, her dead sister, now the key element of the soulsteel bonegraft in her arm. The sheer creep factor of this little girl, after killing a dozen extras with her own radius, turning to a more challenging opponent and whispering "My sister wants to meet you...." It was glorious.

Xariye Karasu, The Crow

The title says it all. Karasu, a Chosen of Endings, was the result of me reading the Astrology section of the Sidereal book about five times in a row and being a little too fond of one of the signs. He was a rather odd combination--career bureaucrat and trickster, originally a native of Sijan, with the quintessential sense of humor and love of shiny objects of his sign. (While he was never actually resplendent as the Crow, he was displaying enough trappings on the average day that nobody could really tell.) He was an Unbidden Oracle--it'd gotten him in trouble the day he Exalted, when he predicted a couple catastrophes in front of a visiting Dragon-Blooded noble who was arranging a funeral--among other things; the first time I used him in a PBP, he managed to mend a plothole on his own, while his current incarnation is more known for being the team swiss army knife--not much of a fighter yet, but he sees things coming, can work his way into any bureaucracy, and has already rerouted one Essence ward and served as what can only be described as an ultra-violet flashlight.

And then there's the deepest and most utterly successful character I've ever played.

"Niev" Tuyet, the Frozen Flower

Yet another accidental political figure; I end up with those a lot. The girl was conceptualized with massive issues--difficult enough being a scion of House Iselsi, but then add on having been betrayed and still being blackmailed by someone she'd been head over heels for, and having to keep a rather innocent old flame of hers out of her dark little world, and let's just say it was a minor miracle she was still functional. What she was, though, was nearly compassionless (though explicitly designed to be brought back to something approximating humanity--I figured I owed it to one of the other players since I'd broken one of his characters the same way) and probably the most manipulative, vindictive individual I think I'd ever played: A deceptively frail (she dump-statted physicals, and her Strength and Stamina are still 1) Air Dragon martial artist and spymaster, on temporary duty with the Wyld Hunt because it got her away from her puppetmaster, whose only true loyalty was to her half-djala partner in crime, Itara.

...at least, until around the time the Roseblack returned to the Blessed Isle. Her squad had been assigned to bodyguard duty, since they'd been in the right place at the right time--a good thing, too, since en route back to HQ they were ambushed by a couple of deathknights and far too many of their mortal followers. Among other things. Either way, we're in the middle of the fight, I'd just managed to set up an absolutely gorgeous stunt, and then I was... relieved of my target, with nobody else about to be in chakram-range for another several turns. So, having no better ideas, and having gotten a serious confidence-boost from having lipped off to a creature beyond her comprehension and resolved the matter with her blackmailer in the span of about three sessions, I decide to threaten the oncoming army with their own mortality in hopes that they'll go away. Not because I'm expecting it to do anything, but because it's something to do.

And it works.

Not long afterward, the Realm descends into a rather messy civil war. Tuyet, being of the opinion that the succession should be resolved with spymastery, and that out and out war is barbaric and cheating, decides she's going to put an end to it--which for her means beginning by defending a bridge from a force that's far too large for her to fight directly by trying to turn the oncoming legion to her side with the power of patriotism.

And it works.

Ten sessions later, she's commandeered three legions, acquired a bit of an addiction to calculatedly stupid heroics (and is steadily becoming the altruistic hero she tried to create the image of after the first army-shouting incident), her squad's already saved the Realm twice, and.... well, suffice it to say the group's betting heavily on her ending up on the Scarlet Throne by the end of the campaign.

And slex, I think you may be right about the trenchcoats. Several of my best successes were times when the character in question was running around in a trench....

2007-08-30, 04:55 PM
LO! and god spoketh unto him and said: go forth, "my glorious and most baddass of children, go forth and delivereth unto evil your justice, and thou shalt be protected, for thou wearest my most holy and awesome coat, and all things shall be fall before your utter baddass-ness."

I have this list of characters that I have never played, but are cool ideas. The top is a bard/noble guy. He would have max ranks in bluff and Dipl. nd basically would wear a padded vest made of little alchemist fire/cold/elect, and at later levels it would have blast disks and globes of force and other explosive things, nd finnaly, a contigent reality mealstrom spell (from spell comp.). basically, he would walk into combat visually displaying his vest and telling enemies that if they struck him, they're dead.

Think dynamite vest, but the magic equivalent of a nuclear bomb!

2007-08-30, 06:39 PM
I don't know if it qualifies as cool, but here is the background from my most recent character, Sirrah, a human rogue in Eberron.
Please excuse the quality of the text, I translated it from it's original French.

War is senseless, no one is spared in this ocean of violence which transforms brothers into deadly enemies. Blood answers to blood, until the soil is drenched and illness decimates the survivors.
War creates numerous refugees, displaced, jobless, their villages destroyed, pillaged, burnt to the ground. Their precious belongings scattered by soldiers searching to escape, if only one minute, from the shadow of death hanging over them. Ashes mixed with tears are the daily lot of those who must flee or die.
These scenes, abominable, will mar the spirits of those who survive them, leaving such scars that for them nothing in the world can ever seem at peace, much less their own soul. Children should not be forced to see these horrors....

Where armies go, where soldiers rest, there is always a train of people who follow them. People who enliven the camp at night, repair weapons, prepare food, bandage the wounded and warm the soldier's hearts. They are without any roots, following the soldiers' movements, enjoying the spoils of victory and feeling the harsh taste of defeat with the soldiers. It is within one of these baggage trains that we find Sirrah.

Her father, Haroun, armourer by profession and artificer by hobby, followed the armies along the fortunes of war, repairing the arms and armour damaged on the battlefield. Work was hard, soldiers being notoriously close to their meagre silvers, but Haroun did well. Years back, a harlot got attached to him and brought him a child which she claimed was his daughter. Solidarity in the camps enabled him to work while his daughter was raised by the harlots.
Sirrah was free to live among the baggage train, following soldiers, playing in the ruins of a pillaged town with other children, always watching the horizon for enemy scouts or the sign of the soldiers' return. From time to time, she would help Haroun in his work, sometimes even going onto the battlefields to collect arrowheads and spear tips to reforge.

Years passed, and the flames of war, having consumed all the land, became smoldering embers. Slowly, people of the baggage train discovered places to settle. Some followed mercenary groups which split from the soldiers, some just stopped in a roadside inn and forgot to leave again. Sirrah traveled with Haroun and when, one day, he made camp in the ruins of abandoned forge, she stayed with him.
But quickly, wanderlust was more powerful than the call of family, she left then to discover the surrounding towns that had sprung up. She lived off her wits, never planning where her feet would lead her next and after several months she found herself back at the Haroun's forge. He had finally installed himself, repaired the forge and was already well known in the surrounding lands.
One week after having returned, both realized that Sirrah was not made for a sedentary life. Following Haroun's wise words, she took her meager belongings and the fine rapier which he had presented to her as a parting gift and left for the city from which Haroun had started out, twenty five years earlier, Sharn.

Sharn, a bejeweled city for those who can afford it's heights, a gem which hides under it's glamorous sheen many dark secrets dating back to Duur'shaarat. Sirrah was not prepared for such a city, she made many mistakes and quickly found herself living in the depths of the city, among those who society prefers to forget. Those who mine, build and live in the gutters of Sharn, it's first inhabitants, the goblins. Quickly, she took to their tongue, acting as go between in their business with the upper city. Acting as messenger for those who did not want to be seen dealing with goblins or acquiring for the said goblins items “lost” by the humans. Sirrah took to this life, and thus we find her in Sharn, on a rainy summer evening, watching the arrival of the lyrandar airships...

I'm not yet happy with the background, but I had only an hour or so before the game when I wrote it down.

2007-08-30, 06:51 PM
Whats not to freiking like?! that is a very nice peice of writting. I like it. Besides, what can you make with more than an hours perparation?

detailes, and interesting. I am sick of the human fighters with crazy weapons whose backstories consist of : I uh... went to fighter school, and now work for the party cuz i was sent here.

2007-08-30, 06:56 PM
Well my two previous characters in legend of the five rings had each a 5-6 page backstory with haiku poetry inside...
Since the two campaigns were linked, one character was the reincarnated soul of the other... I'd have to translate it before posting them, though. That's what sucks about playing in French.

2007-08-30, 07:05 PM
Wow... thats pretty crazy (in a good way).

Were these gys for a detailed, longterm game?

2007-08-30, 08:11 PM
Jalil, 10th level Druid of Ehlonna
My family lives in Tristram, Kevin Smith and his wife Karen live with my sister, Samantha, and my young half brother, Patrizious. My mother, Lisa DeLaroux, died giving birth to me, something I wasn’t aware of until many years later. Kevin married Karen when I was 3, and I grew up with her as my mother. Kevin still works the smith of his father’s father, and Karen works at the Tavern/Inn down the street. Samantha attends the local academy, and Pat (for short) plays around town, learning from its inhabitants.
Like I said, I didn’t learn that Karen wasn’t my mother until I turned 16. Horrible birthday present. I couldn’t hold it against her; she treated me like her own. My father, however, was a different story. I couldn’t stand how her had dismissed Lisa so, abandoning her memory. On a short camping excursion out of town, I slipped away, and ran until the night fell. That was a cold and lonely dark, and the chill rain didn’t help. I huddled underneath a leaning tree, and contemplated the folly of my actions. I slept fitfully, hungry and shivering in the wetness.
The next day found me wandering aimlessly, shivering, even through a rapidly advancing fever. As I sneezed and snuffled, a breaking branch froze me in my tracks. As I sat and watched, a great black bear lumbered out of the brush, licking purple juice off its claw. I stared with wide eyes, knowing that the walking stick I had broken off earlier would snap like the twig it was under a bear’s charge. I knew enough not to run, and the shortsighted bear shuffled towards me, sniffing quite deeply. I stayed perfectly still as the bear smelled me up and down. I was sweating hard; my fevered brain barely comprehending what was happening. The last thing I remembered seeing before I fainted from hunger, fatigue, thirst, and fear was a green-cloaked man emerge from the bush.
I woke up three days later, in a cozy room made on the inside of a hollowed out oak. The cloaked man I had seen was one of the mysterious “Forest Men”; Men of legend, those who lived in the wild and could bend the very forces of nature to their will, Men who ate babies to renew their youth! Fortunately, I learned that this was not so, that the “Forest Men” I knew of were merely boogiemen, used to scare children into good behavior. This man called himself Tobias, and explained that “Forest Men” were actually druids, and that not all of the stories were false. Once we had swapped tales of how we got where we were, he asked if I would accept Ehlonna and Follow him in the circles of Druidism. Since I would rather be away from my father, and not return to that lie that was my life, I accepted.
In the decade that followed, I learned many things, not the least of which was how to ask Ehlonna for guidance and power. Through her benevolence, I was able to do great things, from curing the ills of the world to asking the plants to surround and hinder poachers. I learned how to speak with animals, make them become my friends, calm them from attacking innocents. As my power grew, so did my respect for nature.
At the end of that last year, Tobias, who still acted as my mentor, approached m with startling news; He was going to die. I did not believe, he only looked a day past 30, only a few years older than I! He explained that as you embrace nature, nature embraces you, and shields you from the passage of time, but no one can stop the end. He comforted me in my grief, explained how death was a part of life, and how he was completed this particular circle.
I helped him into the bed that he had spent so many years in, and watched as he fell asleep. Watched as his rhythmic breathing slowed, and slowly stopped. I couldn’t stand to be there with him, even as peaceful as he went, and burst out into the clear night. My eyes brimmed with tears as I looked into the stars and questioned myself, alone in the face of Tobias’ death. As I looked down, I saw an unusual creature approach me from the edge of the grove. A tiger advanced from the darkness, it’s lithe, sinuous form supple in the moonlight. As I clutched at the Green unicorn hanging around my neck, I noticed something odd; even more so than this unusual beast’s presence. The tiger’s eyes were a deep blue, exactly matching the shade of Tobias’! I sprang back inside the hollowed tree, to find the room empty.
I paced back outside, and looked the sitting tiger right in his indigo eyes. I asked, “Are you Tobias?” To which he nodded. I wrapped my arms around his muscular neck, and set off from that grove, left it to nature, and headed out on my own, with Tobias at my side. Four years have since pasted from that night, and each year on that anniversary, I meditate on the circle of life, and remember my dear friend Tobias, who lives on in my companion.

2007-08-30, 09:05 PM
Itztlacoliuhiqui-ixquimillikhad or Izzy for short

He's a Telepath specialized Synad Psion I made for an eberron campaign once. Synads are abberations and he came from the shadow plane, so I played him like he was an arab who just came to the US, complete with accent. He was CN and a lot of fun to play because he didn't understand the difference betwen right or wrong. (The name is from the aztec god of stone)

2007-08-30, 09:31 PM
ah Hello! my name-ah Borat!

2007-08-30, 11:50 PM
Demon Lord Kelzoth. He is an insanely evil and powerful demon lord residing in the Netherworld who, shortly prior to the campaign's beginning, had a curse placed on him that drained him of all but one of his levels and periodically compelled him to perform spontaneous acts of kindness.

DM: You see an orphan drowning in the river.
Me: DC to resist saving him?
DM: 24.
Me: *rolls will save* 13.
DM: This is probably a bad time for you to be wearing full plate, huh.
Me: *bangs head on desk*

Just recently the villain placed him and his friends in a powerful anti-magic field, not realizing that in doing so he removed the curse. Much fun will be had when the campaign picks back up in a month or so.

2007-08-31, 08:24 AM
This was a character that was made for a one-shot game (that lasted two sessions). It was a 3.0 game just when the books were released, the GM had asked for "hi-power" characters and allowed us anything from PHB / DMG at level 10 with usual character wealth.

So here is Eleanore Silverstar, Sorcerer 1 / Fighter 6 / Arcane Archer 3.

Eleanore Silverstar was born 149 years ago in a community of wood elves. She was the youngest in the family, her brother being only twenty years older. Like many elves, she took to the art of archery and studied magic in her early years. Her talent for sorcery was manifest, but she did not have the patience or the dedication to develop her gift, preferring long hunting trips and the many days of community border defense against the orc logging teams from the northern mountains.
Three years ago, he brother Ildérius left with a group of adventurers to travel the world in search of woman to love. He left her the task of leading the community defenses against the orc incursions. But for the fiery and impatient Eleanore, three years of continual campaign against the orcs, culminating in elven raids deep into the mountains, were nothing but three years of waiting for her brother’s return. Finally, she packed up her belongings and left the community with the hope of finding her brother. What had kept him so long, love or death?

Eleanore is very impatient, for an elf, taking decisions on the spur of the moment and acting on them without consulting anyone. She has the tendency to impose her black and white vision of the world on others. And even though one would expect someone who has lived more than a century to be wise, she seems naïve in her outlook.

Eleanore is 5’4 tall and weighs 92 lbs. She has short unruly hazel colored hair and captivating emerald green eyes. Her voice is en enchantment, but alas, she prefers action to speech.

Her owl, a Eurasian Eagle Owl (Grand-duc in French, sounds better), is named Seth. This aged owl is now of a grayed brown color and passes the majority of his time sleeping. He is lazy and this annoys Eleanore no end. He wakes to hunt at night, but usually leaves his prey half eaten because he fell off to sleep.

After I presented the character, the DM was worried the Arcane Archer would be "underpowered" for the gaming session, but during the game, we discovered that the stacking +arrows and +bow bonuses (yay 3.0!) made for a very nice damage dealer.

She did die during the second session and I brought out my backup character, a Goblin cleric L10 named Wysiwyg (his sister was Wysiweg). I seem to have misplaced his background, but it's probably in his character folder.

-- In my games, a 1-shot character needs a 1 page background / description, if it's a campaign, it's expected to come up with around two pages of backstory. In fact, usually we flesh out the character's backstories as we game.

2007-08-31, 08:04 PM
The best backstory I have for a character comes not from D&D but from my local LARP system. I'll try to use D&D-similar synonyms to explain where I can, for the benefit of those who have never LARP'd :smallbiggrin:

Soltaire - Catfolk Rogue (Level 12, tooled for combat rather than stealth or stealing)

Soltaire first came to the human-owned city of Faang (the setting of our campaign) with his partner in crime, Clarence (Another player who joined the group at the same time as me, and also a catfolk Rogue, though tooled for a charlatan's lifestyle).
Together they strayed far and wide, earning a quick buck wherever they could and generally proving themselves to be an able and mischievous duo, available for hire to anyone who needed something 'lifted'.

And then Clarence (the Player) took a hiatus, leaving poor Soltaire alone. In Character it was explained that Clarence had mysteriously disappeared, leaving Soltaire to adopt his identity and masquerade as BOTH Rogues while the rest of the Players were non-plussed!

A bit of swapped kit here, and a purchase of the "Disguise" skill there, and hey-presto - I was my own booking agent, paying myself the negotiator's 'cut' from each deal! :smallbiggrin:

It continued for a while, until Soltaire became obscenely rich and bought himself an Inn under an assumed name - the Spymaster Diego, all-seeing and all-knowing in the darkest reaches of Faang.
Things move on, business is good, and before long 'Diego' is promoted from Guildleader to become one of the 12 Magistrates of the City - Master of the Underworld, to quote his official title.

"Soltaire", meanwhile, keeps all this a secret for weeks on end, continuing his own epic saga of astounding burglaries, cunnings dupes and frantic knife-fights through the city streets, so much so that his bravery and expertise have him called back to the Court of Shirnosh (another city, to which catfolk are native in this system) and was proclaimed a Hero of his race, and placed in command of nearly 200 of his countrymen as an inspirational figure-head as the City marched to War!

By day he is the swift and dangerous dagger to the heart of the enemies of his People - by night he is the sinister and darkness-cloaked figure of fear and answerable only to the undead Baron Arumvitt, the most corrupt (some say diabolic?) man ever to assume a seat of power in the Human world.

The look on peoples' faces when I finally go for the big Reveal will be priceless, I'm sure. :smallwink:

2007-08-31, 10:45 PM
Von harsting Lionheart
half-vampire human rogue ranger
I'll give you the short version long version 2 pages of would-be plot-armor

A rogue vampire plague's the capital of Cormyr, the church of Lathander were sent to destroy the vampire, The vampire was at the end of his days his coffins were discovered and purified, he saw a lone cleric female cleric and he decided to give the church a plague, a spawn of him that they would not destroy a child.

The child was born to The priestess and her husband a purple dragon knight, he had high hopes for a son when the priestess was pregnant and very disappointed when he found out the truth, he moved his family to greyoak, near the kingsforest to protect the child from harm

The child wished to be like his step father but could not function well in fullplate or any heavy armor, Von preferred light armor and the bow, his stepfather used his contacts to find a group of people to take him in as a member of the Cormyr army, the Vigilant of Cormyr, His trail kill a vampire that was lurking around the kings Forrest, the vampire a former spawn of his father, he killed the spawn and was gained membership

2007-08-31, 11:33 PM
Protean, Changeling Factotum,

He's an actor from Sharn out travelling the world in search of new stories to turn into epic plays. He carts around a wagon full of props and equipment, and goes into combat as overly dramatised historical figures from the plays he's memorized, using his Factotum abilities to mimic any spellcasting etc.

2007-09-01, 05:38 AM
We had a habit of rolling up your backhistory on 1d20, excessive high or low were exceptional bad/good and our DM would come up with something that flowed within his campaign. I rolled somewhat in the middle as a 1/2 Orc Fighter named Sanbar from the Arabian Adventures 2nd. edition supplement. Used a 2h Large Scimitar and had a generally Arabian flow to him. Imagine Morgan Freeman from Robin Hood with Kevin Costner. I put a high score in Comliness to offset the 1/2 Orc penalty and appeared Human. In our campaign if you are a 1/2 orc with exceptional Comliness (we separate Charisma and Comliness using Legends and Lore Comliness rules) you have no readily apparant 1/2 Orc features.

"The Night Wind / Sanbar"

Father: Assan Sanai, Royal Guardsman Palace of Ekbar
Mother: Uli Sanai, 3rd Handmaiden to the 14th Daughter of the Caliphate of Ekbar.
Brother: Menam Sanai, Older by six years.
Origin: Penoch Province, sisty miles south of Ekbar.

The "night wind" is a very rare formof wind storm in the desert. The desert people consider it an omen of some sort, some think it as good, others bad. It comes on clear nights when the stars blanket the desert sky and the sand seems bathed in daylight. One cannot see it coming as the whirling dust devil or the ravager, the sand storm. The night wind comes without warning, toppling tents, extinguishing fires, scattering horses, and reminding saliors to watch their helms and keep hold the wheel at all times. It strikes hard and furious and in a moment is gone again.

It was on such a night that Sanbar came into the world. The midwives were surrounded around the very pregnant Uli Sanai. The time had come and she had been laboring since the high noon. Still the child would not come and the midwives feared the mother would not survive much longer. They decided it best to possibly cut the child from the womb and save the mother, possibly both. It was doubtful. The hook blade was pulled from the fire, the tool all midwives carry , the one they hope they never have to use. They eldest midwife knelt between the sprawled legs of the very weak and sobbing mother. She was heard to say, "Forgive me husband.". The midwife inserted the blade and was about to twist when the full force of the night wind struk the travelling tent. It was completely lifted into the night sky. People were blown to the ground, the mule was actually lifted off its feet and tossed into the campfire. At first there was a great panic with much yelling and running about. As the confusion died down the sound of a babies cries could be heard. Strong and insistant. The midwife followed the sounds and came upon the mother and chiled half buried in the sand. There was Uli with her new son cradled in her arms, with the eyes and smile of a mother seeing her child for the first time. But what the midwife saw was the distince scaled ridge line at the base of the babies skull. The distinct and harsh scales of the Orc. She came forward with the hook blade in hand, knowing what she had to do. Uli saw too the intent of the old woman's eyes, before she fully knew what she was going to do the midwife lay bleeding on the desert sand. The secret of Sanbar(Night Wind), was suposed to die there too.

Ten months ago, Uli, wife of the Royal Guardman Assan Sanai, and thrid handmaiden to the 14th daughter of the Caliphate of Ekbar, was traveling with her lady and entourage. They were coming back from the south western shores of the Sea Palace to the Royal capital of Ekbar. They 14th daughter was to be wed to Duke Fenshoff of Ket.

Along with the twenty persons of the 14th daughters entourage, there were eighty soldiers traveling on the Drakken class barge bearing the Royal seal of the Caliphate. It did not matter to the dread pirate Bludkopf and his three Dreadnought class warships. The chase was short, the air battle shorter. All the male survivors, of which there were few, were beheaded. Many of the women were raped and killed (so were some of the men).

But Bludkopf himself was seeking the 14th daughter of the Caliphate for himself and ordered her brought before him unmolested and perfumed. The young daughter was mortified and would have taken her own life with a concealed dagger. Uli, the thrid handmaiden, sworn to protect her, bade her not to. She would go in her place. The 14th daughter, Sulli, looked with astonishment but said nothing as her handmaiden walked out the locked door and out into the Orcan horde.

Uli was brought before Bludkopf and forced to her knees. The veil was torn away. The destroyer and ravager of cities looked down upon the beautiful unveiled face, "Oh yes, you will be mine." Those orcs that understood, a very few, snorted and grunted in agreement. Bludkopf commanded, "Serve me wench!" Uli poured a goblet of wine for him. "Remove your clothing!" Uli did. "You are very docile for the daughter of the Caliph." "If it does not pleasy you sire I shall be more resistant?" replied Uli. "NO,..I like this, I like this very much." "I only ask one favor my lord." "NO, you ask nothing!" retorted Bludkopf. Uli sat quietly. Curiosity got the better of Bludkopf, "What?" "Only that you leave me my handmaidens my lord, I would not be able to please you properly without their skills." "You please me fine as you are wench!" "But it is they who bathe me, clothe me, prepare my hair... do you not like my hair? They way I smell? My soft skin?" "GUARDS! Leave the hand maids be!" "But Lord..." One look from Bludkopf was all that was required.

It took two months to arrange and complete the ransom of the 14th daughter. One million gold was left on the abandoned coastline. Three maidens and the ravaged Uli were returned to the Caliph. It was unknown if the Caliph was ever informed of what truly happened. Sulli did marry the Duke, one would assume that her virginity was verified. Also, the pirate Bludkopf, now with a price of ten million gold on his head, had taunted the Caliphate with words of how he had violated his 14th virginal daughter. But still, no word was ever spoken.

Upon hearing that his beloved wife was still alive, Assan raced to meet her in the capital. Uli never intended to keep the conditions of what happened to her a secret, but when she saw her husbands face, his joy, love, relief...and yes, fear,..she could not tell him. She knew she could never tell him.

The months passed and it was evident that soon Uli would be a mother for the second time. She knew that it might be the child of Bludkopf, but she hoped and prayed it was from the union with her beloved Assan. As the time came near she traveled to her small village of Penoch. She was not due for another two months, at least that is was the midwives had said. Of course no one had told Sanbar.

At birth Sanbar was a sickly child, giving Uli the necessary excuse to car for him alone. Mother and child were nearly inseparable. Even Assan never suspected the real reason why Uli refused the care of other handmaids. He simply saw it as a mothers devotion to her sick child. The only one to really suffer from all this attention was Uli's other child, Menam. Perhaps if more attention had been given to Menam during those years things may have been different. As it was, Menam only knew that someone else became the center of her universe. He was alone, abandoned, he would never forget or forgive this interloper, this theif of hearts.

As the years passed, Sanbar grew. He grew at an alarming rate, and so did his hair, concealing the distinctive spinal ridge of the orcan bloodline. It was explained to him at an early age wat the strange growth was on the back of his neck. At first it was hard to understand the need for secrecy. But at the age of five he saw his first example of many why no one should ever know. A hunting party had returned with a young woman. At first one would have thought her to be human. They ripped the clothes from her in the village square near the town well. Across her belly were scales, actually the seemed attractive to the young Sanbar. The village stoned her to death. No charge was ever brought against her, they didn't need one. She was a half orc.

Time passed, Sanbar grew strong, much stronger than his brother or the other boys in the village. Of corse this only added to the sibling rivalry with Menam. More and more often he would spend time away from the house. When he was there the thensions between him and mother would only grow. You see, Menam knew Sanbars secret, and besides loosing the eye of his mother, he saw how even the village boys and girls were finding Sanbar more popular than himself. The one oand only son of Assan the Royal Knight was taking a back seat to a half orc!

It is expected in the tradition of Ekbar that the bearer of the Black Sash, a Royal Knight, be passed from father to son. Normally the eldest is chosen, but it is not unheard of that another son be chosen. First understand the nature of Menam. Why was he so cruel to Sanbar? Why the hate for his mother? These were things Assan and the rest of the village saw but did not understand.

The night before Sanbar was to be named in the ascension to the Black Sash, Menam waited in his brothers room. It had been a long time since he ever actually spoke to Sanbar but his words were few and full of years of weight and menace. Menam casually sipped a cup of tea on the windowsill and spoke, "Brother, let the truth set you free." It was the tone that set Sanbars nerves on edge. Sanbar listened quietly. "Leave brother, leave and never come back." said Menam. Menam walked toward the door, as he stood in the entrance he said, "The stones will be for you Sanbar. But who will die first? You or mother?" The whole tragedy of it struck Sanbar then, his mother would try and stop them. His father would be disgraced. The name of Sanai would only be spoken in whispers.

Sanbar packed lightly and quietly left in the night. He looked back across the desert at his home, wondering if he could ever return. As he left on the clear cloudless night as strong burst of wind raked across the sand nearly tossing his large frame to the ground. Sanbar looked back, the night wind had removed all signs of his tracks. It was as though he had never been there. Where would he go? Where does the night wind go?

Our DM did this up on a Friday night before a game on Saturday to explain my family history roll of a 12. Not exceptional but unique in its own way. Sorry for the long read.