Need a character background written up?

[Tawmis]

Thank you so much.
That back story the simple beginnings I can use anywhere. How he comes to that realization, the inspiration for his adventuring, not some vengeance or high minded ideal, just that this is what must be done to get ahead. I LOVE it.

Thanks! I tried to keep it nice and down the middle - because you said, while evil, the emphasis was more on neutral.
And really, most of us, when it comes down to it, truly only do look out for ourselves, sadly.

This is great! Thanks so much. I've enjoyed reading all of your writings. Oh, and I probably wouldn't have gotten the Bonnie Tyler reference if you hadn't pointed it out. :-)

Thank you! So the Bonnie Tyler reference only came into my mind because of the recent commercial (feel like it comes on all the time on HULU). :)

I love the backstory that you came up with for my character, it describes them perfectly! I tweaked the character cause I wanted their race to actually be the twins. So they are Dvati twins (5e version still share the same soul but two bodies) and their class are cultivators. And the backstory you wrote perfectly sums up how they came to take up the art of cultivation & to share it throughout the world. 😊 Made a small donation also since you did such a great job lol.

Thank you! <3 Added your name on the first page as a special thanks!
So glad you enjoyed it, especially since I was so unfamiliar with the actual class - and could make it work! <3

I have a fellow player with whom the struggle is very real. He plays a Half-Orc Paladin 5/Barbarian X...
The only thing I have for his backstory is that he doesn't talk about any family. His early days (as far as we know) consist of learning in a temple of many faiths; Clerics, Paladins, Monks, etc. have come from far and wide to visit here, if only the chance to meet a legend or say they have studied here. He left after a few years of study, just to travel with some friends and get in touch with his old ways (barbarian combat tactics). He makes very few enemies and is always welcome back. Everyone who meets him knows him to be simple. He rarely voices his opinion even when asked, unless circumstances are dire. If everything looks like it’s going bad, he will not hesitate to save himself. His most spoken words, "I am George."

Hopefully this potentially helps flesh out your character, if they want to use it.
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The Dreams.

Every time I close my eyes, I can see their faces. People begging for their lives as I cut them down. All around me, my family, my clan – bathing in the blood of the innocent. I was a weapon, forged by my father’s fury, smelted and pounded with hatred, and doused in the blood of the innocent.

Those that didn’t die in battle, I heard their screams hours later, as they were captured, tortured and killed.

The girl.

Her eyes peering from the bushes, drowning in fear, having bit her lip so hard to try and remain silent that droplets of blood spread on the snow like spider webs of crimson silk spread out. I kneeled down and she didn’t scream, she didn’t run.

“Why,” she finally sobbed. “Why did you attack our wagon?”

“Because you and your kind kill my people,” I whispered. The words were spoken by me, but in truth it was my father’s words that spilled from my lips.

“My father was a priest of Eldath,” the girl stammered.

“Who is Eldath?” I asked.

“She is the goddess of peace,” the girl wept. “My father never raised a weapon. Ever. Even when your people attacked, my father sought to speak to you and your people.”

My mind traces back through the chaos. There was a man. On a wagon. He was saying he meant no harm. Showed a symbol. What was it? A waterfall spilling into a pool? What was it my father said to me, “That is the symbol of flowing blood. He is a priest of war.”

War.

It’d been me who pulled her father down from the cart. Severed his hand. Still he never spoke a foul word, reached for a weapon. My Common wasn’t great – especially if people speak quickly. But he’d said something about Eldath. That she will not judge me. And that she was sorry it’d come to this.

My father had severed the man’s head, because he’d noticed I was trying to understand the man.

Just then, Jurith – my cousin patted me on the back, “Oh! You found another one! She looks young. We can throw her in the slave pits till she gets old enough to breed more like you.” Jurith was a pure orc – and his remark of “more like you” was something he always said – it was his way of saying my blood was tainted. That I’d never be as good as him, and despite being the son of the war chief, I will never be the war chief because of my human blood.

I can’t explain what happened. What made me do it.

My dagger found itself lodged in Jurith’s throat.

He’d never say anything about my half-blood again.

And he will never reveal the location of this girl.

I look down at the girl, even as Jurith’s gurgling, dying body clings to me, slowly sliding down as he gasped for life. I extended my hand to the girl, “I am getting you out of here.”

I was only a few years older than the young girl. I grabbed her hand as she extended it to me and began running with her. Some of my father’s soldiers spotted me and he barked at me to stop. And for the first time in my life, I disobeyed my father and I kept running.

I heard him shout, “I curse your human blood! You’re no son of mine! You never were. You will see! You will see how the humans see you! You will see!”

They hunted us down for days – but father had trained me; trained me to survive. And although the little girl slowed me down, I was still a survivor. For three weeks we moved through the wilderness of the Lurkwood until we reached Mirabar.

And my father was right.

The humans saw me, beat me down, and threw me in a prison.

I was spared by the words of the young girl I’d saved, who cried that I’d saved her. She never mentioned that it was me who pulled her father down from the cart. It’d been my father who delivered the killing blow, but I was still a part. But that’s not the story she told – she told them how I’d saved her from my clan, helped her survive in the woods, and had brought her to Mirabar.

The Lord’s Alliance approached me. They wanted to know where my clan was positioned in Lurkwood. I exchanged my freedom for that information. A dispatch was sent to take care of my clan.

I don’t know what came of them. Something I was learning, though homeless in Mirabar, was that the rhetoric my father preached was wrong. Kallius, of the Lord’s Alliance, even took me to Temple so that I could learn more about Eldath. My father had preached that Gruumsh was the one true god, and all other “gods” were charlatans and false gods; but what I learned in the Temple told a very different story. Some of the priests there even brought in Monks from a local monastery who taught me the importance of balance – to understand that shadows need light, and the light will created shadows.

When I asked what that meant, Master Trulite explained, “Shadows need light… You see, the darkness, the evil – they need something to hate. Something to attack. That is the light. And the light, the hope, the good, will always create shadows – those who are envious of the good, who think they don’t deserve their good life. So they want to consume it with shadows and darkness – so they gather other shadows to drown the light. And just as the darkest of nights, still have the moon and the stars to break the darkness; so does the brightest day, cast the longest shadows.”

I studied there, and accepted the path of light and studied and took forth the name of a god – that was not Gruumsh. I had met several others, traveling the roads, and took to going with them. I wanted to be the light that created the longest shadows.

But peace was never truly in my veins. No matter how hard I fought, half of my blood will always be orc – and that part is a raging monster.

I dance between light and darkness, shadow and light, and my name is George.