Need a character background written up?

[Tawmis]

Ooh boy, can we request multiple at one? I've got a bunch of proto-ideas that I want written up.
But for now, my first one:
Tortle Druid of Dreams, named Madbloom. Really, really old, cranky, has plants growing on shell because is so old.
Thank you in advance!

Slight revision to turn Suntide into a Water Gensai...

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“Come meet the Dreamweaver she said,” Madbloom, a Tortle strolling down the path sighed. “She’s really nice, she said!” Tortle stopped and shook his fist. “Oh, she was nice all right! Nice and tricky!”

Tortles like Madbloom were intelligent, turtle-like humanoids who walked on two feet, capable of making and using weapons. All Tortles felt the sense of “The Pull of the Tide” which was an urge to go about and explore the world far and wide, and return perhaps, months or even many years after leaving their homes, with stories of what they’d learned. It was when Madbloom had felt “The Pull of the Tide” that a Water Gensai – a water fey that had some connection to the Plane of Water – had come to him. Her name, according to her, was Suntide. She was beautiful, with her large blue eyes, and hair as golden as the sunset, for which she had been named…

“Come meet the Dreamweaver,” Suntide smiled, leaning on a rock and glancing up playfully at Madbloom. “She’s heard of your kind, but in all her years, has never seen one of you.”

“Well,” Madbloom shrugged, “I am not sure I am the best representation of my people. There are many who have traveled the world, seen more, have wonderful stories!”

“The Dreamweaver does not want to hear stories,” Suntide giggled. “She just wants to meet one of you. I told her I knew one! A wonderfully nice Tortle, I told her! You wouldn’t deny me? Make me appear as a liar to the Dreamweaver?”

“I mean,” Madbloom sighed, “no, I don’t want to make you look like a liar,” he had begun to say, finding an excuse to not go, but Suntide cut him off.

“She’s really nice!” Suntide pulled herself up onto the rocks. Her bare body glistened in the setting sun.

“Yes, well,” Madbloom looked away, “I will never get used to that.”

“What?” she looked down and realized her nude body had made him feel odd. “But you do not wear clothes under your shell, right? It’s just your shell you wear.”

“Yes, it’s just that,” Madbloom thought about it. Suntide watched with intense curiosity before Madbloom finally shrugged. “You’re right.”

“So you will go meet the Dreamweaver!” Suntide began to clap excitedly.

“Wait! No! That’s not what I said!” Madbloom began, but Suntide had already dived into the ocean and swam away.

“What have I gotten myself into? It’ll be nice,” Madbloom huffed, “once I leave for the Pull of the Tide to be free of that crazy Water Gensai.”

“Are you ready?” Suntide’s voice was directly behind him.

Madbloom screamed – or what passed for a scream from a Tortle – which sounded more like a squeaky door slowly creaking open.

Suntide giggled as Madbloom shot her a knowing, scolding look.

“I can hold my breath underwater,” Madbloom began, just then Suntide threw a small vial at him, that he remarkably managed to catch before it shattered on the jagged rocks at his feet. He held up the vial of blue liquid. “What’s this?”

“Drink it!” Suntide smiled broadly.

“You expect me to drink something a fey just hands me from the ocean?” Madbloom eyed her again.

She returned his gaze, her beautiful smile never cracking.

Madbloom’s giant eyes fluttered. “Fine. Fine.” He muttered a series of words and sentences better not left heard by Suntide and popped the top off of the vial and took a drink. Immediately his body felt energized as if he could run for days without needing to slow down.

Suntide extended her hand and Madbloom took hers into his and in that moment, they were moving like a lightning bolt through the skies – piercing the darkest tides of the oceans – down deeper than Madbloom ever thought possible.

They came to a screeching halt before a large, aquatic cave. Several Mermen and Nixie’s patrolled the outside, some mounted on Hippocampus; magnificent aquatic animals with a torso of a horse, whose hooves were fins; and their lower body that of a great fish.

Suntide whispered, “Come,” and Madbloom didn’t even think to wonder how he could still hear her underwater. She led Madbloom by the hand, past several Mermen guards who eyed them as they swam by, hands on their weapons. Eventually they entered a large chamber with a golden seat, decorated in an assortment of sea treasure and shells. Upon it sat the most beautiful humanoid Madbloom had ever seen. She appeared to be an Elf, by the looks of her, with her thin frame, full eyes and pointed ears. But how could she be breathing underwater?

“She’s a Nymph,” Suntide said, as if reading Madbloom’s mind. “She is the Dreamweaver.”

Adapt at being underwater for brief stints, Madbloom let his body sink to the floor where he could properly bow before her. The Dreamweaver smiled, “You are honorable and humble,” her voice sounded like a choir of angels. “You feel the pull of the world beyond now, do you not?”

“The Pull of the Tide,” Madbloom nodded, “that’s what my people call it. The tide pulls you out into the ocean of the world to swim in it, see it, and learn from it.”

“The world beyond is bleeding,” the Dreamweaver said, the emphasis of her voice so sad, even Madbloom felt his own heart plummet. “There is war; greed; savagery; brutality; murder; chaos; all of which has done one thing to so many… especially the children…”

“What is that?” Madbloom raised his head.

“They’ve lost their dreams,” Dreamweaver replied. “So many simply seek to survive the day, and lie in fear at night, with no time to sleep, no time to dream of a better life, or even a better world. What if you, on your travels during the pull of the tide, could help change that? Would you?”

“I would,” Madbloom agreed, “the idea that the world outside is full of such sadness, such a loss of hope… I would want to change it. Especially for the children; the children need a reason to get up, to hope, to dream.”

The Dreamweaver smiled. “I could see it in your heart. Your kind always passing tales to their young so that your young can go forward, charged with the knowledge you’ve passed down. Let me show you the world, when there’s nothing left,” she touched Madbloom’s left hand and visions of a land, decimated by war, the soil drenched in blood, filled his eyes. “Now let me show you how we can make it right,” then she touched Madbloom’s right arm. The vision reversed itself, and the people spoke to one another, laughed, enjoyed each other’s company, and the once crimson fields were now rows of apple fields, ripe with hope.

“You now have seen it, the dark,” she held up her left hand, “and the light,” she showed her right hand. “You now share a connection with me. There is one thing I failed to mention, my life force is tied to yours, so long as I live, you will age, very, very, very slowly.”

That was over two hundred years ago.

Madbloom has seen generations of Tortles come and go, though having none of his own (suspecting that the Fey Magic he was tied to had something to do with that). He enjoyed his life at first, spreading cheer and love, but as he continued to age, seeing generations die when he was barely aging had begun to wear on him. He was well beyond “old” for a Tortle, so much so that plants now grew on his shell and a hummingbird (which he tried to say he disliked) named “Dart” had made a nest on his shell. It would leave for weeks on end, but Dart always found her way back to Madbloom. He even wondered if it was somehow Suntide…