Need a character background written up?

[Tawmis]

Half-Orc Fighter Echo Knight: Kage Runar, a consecuted soul born into this 3rd, or is it 4th life not in the body of a Kryn but into that of a Half-Orc. Not that he knows much, the memories are hard to separate from his own, well his own from this life, its confusing. And he wasnt identified and given the normal training to deal with this. Now he strives to make the most of this life as is the way of the consecuted.

When looking for a visual to help me feel Kage’s appearance, I came across this:
https://www.d20radio.com/main/wp-con...6959b53369.jpg
I've also known been following the whole Critical Role show (a sin, I am sure)...
So I am not super familiar with the origins and settings of the Luxicon and the characters, other than what I found here: https://criticalrole.fandom.com/wiki/Leylas_Kryn
So I kept it super vague - and made the "Luxicon" a tower because I wasn't sure if you were playing in that setting... or just needed an echo knight.
It could be explained that the beacon was in the tower, if that's what's needed - or that something else in the tower is what powers it.
At any rate, this was a bit of a challenge - because I am not familiar with it... but I think I created a potentially fun thing to explore.
As always, I appreciate feedback!
Enjoy!
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The scene had been a chaotic one.

The dead and dying were scattered around like droplets of rain throughout the battlefield. Orc and Elf clashed blades, cutting and killing their enemies without pause, without remorse. When an Elf or Orc fell dead by the wayside, the living took a step forward; and hoped to keep stepping forward, or fall dead.

On the backend of the battle scene, the Orc Chieftain, Brall Bloodhammer watched, his sight magically enhanced by his most trusted advisor, the Shaman named Olinar Blackblade, brother of the great warrior, Olani Blackblade.

“They draw closer,” Brall said his eyes glowing magically as he turned to look at Olinar.

“But slowly,” the shaman noted. “The Elven Queen will soon dispatch her aerial assault and our ranks will break. We must send in our backups now, to push through.”

Brall knew this was right; but their backup was Orc Warriors who were trained to kill anything and everything in front of them – disciplined on a word to command them to go and to stop. Sending them now with no clear opening would kill many of their own.

“We can not delay,” Olinar urged his Chieftain.

Brall heaved a deep sigh. If there was any hope of capturing the tower; it was going to be now or never. He looked at Olinar and nodded. The Shaman knew the choice was heavy on his heart; there were a great many warriors in the battle field that both of them knew that may now be killed by their own kind. “Ballak’shaw!” Olinar cried out the words that resounded across the dark hillside.

At that moment, thirty orcs that had seemed as if they were sleeping on the hill side all jumped up on their feet, grabbed their weapons and charged into battle swinging their blades and axes, viciously, cutting down friend and foe alike.

Kage Runar had just cut down an elf behind him when he heard the Shaman’s words somewhere far behind him. The command had been given to unleash the Red Eyes as they were called – Orcs who never slept, enhanced by shadowy magic to make them pure killing machines. Their creation was often debated, even among the orcs – some praised their lack of fear of death and overwhelming odds, while others feared that something would one day go wrong, and the Red Eye would break free of the commands that help them in place.

Already Kage could hear orcs behind him screaming in pain as they were cut down from behind as the Red Eye began charging through. The clashing of a blade against his sword snapped Kage back to attention. He began parrying and fighting, though his mind was distracted by the approaching Red Orcs from behind him. He knew if he did not get out of the way he would be cut down as well; but if he let his guard down the elf in front of him would cut him down just as quickly.

So he continued to fight, knowing this was probably his last day on the world.

He could hear Brall shouting commands from behind the Red Eye, and Olinar barking commands, directing the Red Eye like hunting dogs, to turn right or left or focus down the center. The elf’s expression however was everything Kage needed to know; the Red Eye were behind him. He felt a slash against his back, and blood seeping down his leg as he collapsed to the ground. Before his vision faded to black, he saw the elf in front of him cut down the front of his chest, his organs pouring out, as the Red Eye stepped on him and over him in their pursuit for the kill.

Kage tried to breathe, but his lungs felt as if they were filling with water. He struggled, the fear of suffocating consuming him as breathing became increasingly difficult. He reached out to someone – anything – and found nothing. In the end, Kage perished buried beneath several other bodies, discarded and forgotten.

It reeked of death and decay when Kage opened his eyes again. He let out a scream and pushed himself up, tossing the other bodies that had fallen on top of him aside. He looked at his hands – but they were not his? How was this possible? Kage stood, stumbled, and collapsed again.

“There’s one!” he heard Brall’s voice shout. He looked over and could see him and others rummaging through the bodies of the dead. Brall ran to Kage’s side. “Breathe easy. The tower is ours.”

“Ours?” Kage barked. “You disgrace us!” Kage pulled away and looked around for a sword. “I will cut you where you stand, orc!”

Brall looked over at Olinar. “What has happened? Has he gone mad?”

“No,” Olinar smiled. “Our conquest of the tower seems to have impacted the direction of reborn souls. It would seem that the magic field I applied when trying to stop the rebirth of the elves has had a diverse effect on our friend. It would seem that his body shares two souls – that of Kage and that of the elf he was undoubtedly battling.”

Kage looked down at the dead elf at his feet, and stumbled backwards. “That’s me.”

Olinar held up a mirror, “This is who you are.”

At that moment, Kage suddenly seemed to reclaim himself – though his last memory had been of the Red Eye Orcs behind him and hearing Olinar barking commands to them.

“I’m alive?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

Brall looked over at Olinar, “What do we do with this?”

“We can pry knowledge from the elf’s side,” Olinar smiled. “Welcome to becoming an Echo Knight, Kage. Unfortunately, we know nothing of how it works. You are the first orc known to have such an ability. We will learn much from you.”

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask twice, but if I am put me farther back on the list because I’m not going to be using this character for a while.

Ion Dursk
LN
Mystic
He was a normal person until he had a near-death experience by an arcane rival of his. He called out into the darkness moments before his demise, and something answered. Instead of becoming a warlock, however, this being infused inside of him, giving him psionic powers. He adventures to control Arcane magic and to make sure no one can be hurt how he was.

EDIT: He's a human originally, but the near-death experience might warrant a race-change. I'll leave it up to you!

Had to look up the Mystic:
https://media.wizards.com/2017/dnd/d.../UAMystic3.pdf
I've never played a Mystic - so this was a bit interesting to develop how he might transition into a Mystic based on the guidelines you provided.
Not sure if you've read other backgrounds but the name "Bar'garius" is someone I've used before - to strike such deals - essentially tying together what's affectionately been called the "Tawmis-Verse" where these characters are operating out of the same world; or that said demon is plane jumping between words. Just a fun little thing.
I also leave the "enemy" of your character "alive" in the end - could they recover and come after the character one day? That's up to you and your DM if you use this origin!
Let me know your thoughts - if you were looking for something a little different or if this works!
As always, enjoy!
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Ion Dursk had spent a life time learning the history of the world. Even from a young age, he had no interest in swords, sorcery, or even the opposite sex. Instead he threw himself into tomes of endless history books where his mind devoured the knowledge. However, Ion suffered from an unusual disease, in which the more he learned, the more he craved to learn. His mind was ever hungry. When he ran out of books to read, he would even go as far as reading tomes of fiction (written mostly from self-proclaimed historic bards; all of which clearly clashed with actual historical facts).

This also made Ion socially awkward around people. Instead of talking about something in common with others, he would begin to rattle off historical facts with such vivid detail; or he discussed what happens to a body when it begins to decompose, because his mind was thirsty to find someone else who might who might be remotely interested in such facts. As a teenager, he began to study magic to understand how it worked and see if he could make sense to the illogical manner in which it seemed to apply itself to the physics of the world. After all, how could someone simply summon a fireball from their fingertips without using accelerant?

Ion, despite lacking any form of years of practicing as a wizard, quickly rose up the ranks without ever truly mastering magic. His knowledge and his in-depth questions about various rune magic and magical gestures and how they related back to thousands of years from his own studies had been enough to get him recognized among the arcane community.

There was one however, who did not appreciate Ion’s rise. An older wizard who did not care for how Ion had questioned everything seemed to impress everyone with his knowledge of how magic may work without truly ever coming close to mastering magic itself by the name of Orehs Soulstone.

Orehs had a notorious reputation for being extremely harsh to his students; so much so that many would disappear in the middle of the night, for which Orehs claimed they were too weak to understand and accept how true power works and the dedication it took.

Orehs Soulstone took Ion beneath his wing to push Ion to learn magic itself, rather than always question it. Even then, under the old man’s tutelage, Ion often recommended how Orehs could improve his casting time but changing a gesture ever so slightly or enunciate one of the arcane words with a slight change on the pronunciation.

Rather than accept what he was being told, the old wizard who had spent his entire life studying solely magic, grew furious with Ion.

Fury overcame Orehs and he then turned to Ion and said, “If you know so much about magic, defend yourself against my attacks. I will not be holding back and nor should you.”

Orehs was admittedly surprised when Ion was able to summon up several spells to deflect some of his most direct attacks. “I am suitable surprised you know magic at all, Ion.”

“I do not cast,” Ion replied from behind a turned over table that had been struck by several magic missiles. “But I have a memory that allows me to remember and mimic what I see. I’ve been studying with you, thinking how you can correct and improve some of your spell casting, so my mind can retrace your gestures and words spoken.”

“I, however,” Orehs’ voice suddenly came from behind Ion, “shown your everything.” Ion turned to see Orehs behind him; an illusion had been what had been standing in front of him while the wizard moved behind him. “You will question my ways no more.”

Ion watched as Orehs threw a magical jar at Ion’s feet and in his final moments Ion felt his soul being pulled out of his body. As his soul ripped from his physical body he could see Orehs for what he truly was – it wasn’t only an illusion before him – but Orehs had maintained an illusion for a very long time as his lich like features became visible, Ion’s soul immune to the illusion.

And now… now it all made sense. The tomes of books that Ion read while studying beneath Orehs had dealt exclusively with necromancy, devils and demons and the darker side of magic. Ion knew in those moments of dying that Orehs was devouring souls to consume their power.

Desperate – even as a soul – Ion called out – and to his surprise, in the darkness a pair of green eyes emerged. “My name is Bar'garius,” the voice echoed. “You call for help between the mortal and the astral has been heard mortal.”

“Help me,” Ion begged. “I do not want my soul consumed! I will do anything.”

“Become my servant,” Bar'garius smiled, “when I need it – and I can help you.”

“I agree,” Ion pleaded.

And in that moment, felt his soul violently returned to his body. His eyes flared open and an astonished Orehs stared at him. “How?”

Ion stood and his mind felt sharper than ever. “I know who you are, Orehs. I’ve seen your true face.” What Ion had not noticed as he began to feel his mind slipping into Orehs’ mind, his appearance began to change into what could best be described as a tiefling and with a snap of his fingers Orehs’ mind was suddenly cut off from the rest of his body and collapsed to the ground, eyes wide, mouth agape, drooling. Ion caught his new appearance in a mirror and was shocked, but it quickly changed back to human.

He realized, each time he used his power, his body shifted planes and suddenly appeared more demonic in nature. He quickly grabbed a cloak and left Orehs’ tower and began to wander the road.

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask twice, but if I am put me farther back on the list because I’m not going to be using this character for a while.

Ion Dursk
LN
Psi-Knight
He was a normal person until he had a near-death experience by an arcane rival of his. He called out into the darkness moments before his demise, and something answered. Instead of becoming a warlock, however, this being infused inside of him, giving him psionic powers. He adventures to control Arcane magic and to make sure no one can be hurt how he was.

EDIT: He's a human originally, but the near-death experience might warrant a race-change. I'll leave it up to you!

Psi-Knight Details:
https://media.wizards.com/2020/dnd/d...nicOptions.pdf
I admit - I definitely attached more to the Psi-Knight version of this character.
I think the NPCs I introduced helped me identify with the character more and allow me to really step into their shoes.
Some random information on "Easter Eggs" if you will - this origin makes a lot of references to an old game called King's Quest from Sierra On-Line.
The Commander's name is "Sierra" backwards, for example. Ion's best friend (Graham) is the name of the main character of the majority of the game. Cedric is the (much hated?) Owl that helps Graham in King's Quest 5. And Rosella is Graham's daughter first seen in King's Quest IV.
And for the "second life" - if it's not obvious it's Lathander - because what Ion sees is Lathander's symbol.
Anyway - hope you enjoy!
As always, would love feedback! (Replies keep the thread bumped and alive)
Enjoy!
==========================================

“Winning a battle with sword and shield is one thing,” Commander Arreis barked, his hands folded behind his back as he paced back and forth, “but you have to know what you’re enemy is thinking if you hope to survive.”

He paused to look at some of the hopeful recruits standing before him. “Some of you will never be what I need you to be. You will be the brainless, smash and slash,” he looked specifically at Ion’s good friend, Graham. “Some of you,” his eyes drifted to Ion, “have the potential to be something more.”

Later that night at the Daventry Tavern, Cedric spotted Ion and Graham and laughed, “Oh, look who has walked in. Commander Arreis’ pet dog.”

Graham tugged on Ion’s shoulder, “Don’t pay him any attention, Ion. Cedric’s jealous that the commander does not notice him.”

Ion, however, could not resist Cedric’s taunting. Cedric had been pushing at Ion since they all joined the academy together, spitting at him, scoffing at him, tripping him. Ion had had enough. He spun on his heel and smiled, “Perhaps I am Commander Arreis’ dog, as you proclaimed, Cedric. But if I am, it is because I am loyal. What do you know of loyalty?”

“Oh,” Cedric put his drink down and quickly made his way across the tavern and got directly in front of Ion, “so the little puppy bares his teeth and barks back does he? Well, seems as if the obnoxious puppy needs to be taught a lesson.”

Cedric brought his fist upwards in an attempt to uppercut Ion, but Ion had centered his mind and extended it to read Cedric’s aurora and could almost see – and feel – Cedric’s muscles tightening in his body seconds before the attempt to upper cut.

The crowd cheered when Ion dodged at the last moment. Cedric then brought his fist down in an attempt to strike Ion across the cheek; but again, Ion could almost feel and hear the muscles in Cedric’s body changing direction. He quickly pulled a steel mug from the table and brought it up, crashing into Cedric’s fist.

Cedric reeled back, holding his fist, howling in pain, as he felt several of his fingers had broken from the impact. He stumbled backwards as Ion set the mug down. Cedric snarled at Ion, “This isn’t over. Not by a longshot” and with that, slinked into the crowd and out the door.

Graham was looking at Ion with a raised eyebrow as the rest of the tavern returned to their drinking and discussions. “What?” Ion asked as he settled at a table.

“How did you do that? It was like you knew what he was about to do before he knew,” Graham said, sitting down on a rickety chair and flagging down Rosella, the beautiful blond waitress.

“I could feel what he wanted to do,” Ion explained, “like Commander Arreis mentioned. Almost as if my mind was touching his.”

“Well,” Graham chuckled, as Rosella brought them two ales, “that had to be a bleak place.”

“What was?” Ion asked.

“His mind. You said it was like you touched his mind,” Graham explained. He looked at his friend more closely. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” Ion nodded, reassuringly. “His mind was full of so much anger. It comes from his father. His father used to…”

Graham shook his head, “I don’t want to analyze Cedric’s mind. But, that said, I am not so sure shaming him in the tavern was the best move either. You know Cedric. He has his little group that follows him around and does whatever he says because they think he’s the ‘biggest and baddest’ around the block.”

The next day at the Knight’s Academy, Commander Arreis paced back and forth, his hands folded behind his back, as he’d always done. “One thing that you will need to learn to control is your anger,” he began, “if you allow your anger to seize control of you, you will no longer be able to think clearly. And if you can not think clearly, you’re going to make a mistake. And one mistake out there,” he gestured to an open field, “will cost you your life. And if you die – that means the soldier next to you now has to pick up your slack. You’re putting my other men in peril when you do that. And I don’t want that,” he paused in front of Cedric and looked down at his bandaged hand. “And if you are thoughtless and become wounded and can not hold a sword, you’re of no use to me. Learn to control your mind in the battlefield. Understand your enemy,” he came to stop in front of Ion, “and you will unlock the potential within you to become so much more.”

The following night, Ion and Graham were leaving the tavern when they parted ways, each of them heading for their homes after a few drinks. As Ion walked home he could hear footsteps behind him and as he closed his eyes, he could feel the tension. Whoever it was behind him meant him harm. He focused and felt a familiar mind.

He spun on his heel, “Cedric.”

But it was not simply Cedric. Several of his cronies were flanked around him.

“What do you want Cedric?” Ion growled.

“You had to go and tell Commander Arreis about last night didn’t you?” Cedric sneered. “A damn snitch as well as a damned lap dog.”

“I told the Commander nothing,” Ion said truthfully. “He could undoubtedly read our minds.”

“He’s a simple warrior,” Cedric growled. “Not some mage, wizard, warlock, or whatever. He can’t read minds.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ion tried to explain even as Cedric gestured to his cronies who then began to surround Ion. “He can read minds. That’s exactly what he’s training us to do. If you’d only listen. Release the anger that burns in you. I know about your father and what he did.”

“Shut up!” Cedric growled and gestured to his followers who all jumped on Ion. Despite Ion’s best attempts he could not stop all of them, and they soon had him restrained. Cedric got up close and whispered, “If you can read minds, read this,” as he plunged his dagger deep into Ion’s heart as his minions released him.

Ion collapsed to the ground, his hand over his chest wound. He could feel the warm blood pouring out. Ion could feel his life ebbing away and prayed to the gods for help; but there was only silence. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate, and as he did so, a road appeared before him with a sunrise in the distance. Beautiful trees blew in the gentle breeze.

He felt a light touch on his head and gasped for breath. He looked down at his wound; it was now sealed. His shirt and hands caked in dry blood.

The following morning he attended the Knight’s Academy as he’d always done; but this time, felt more in tune with both his mind and body. As he glanced around he did not see Cedric; nor could he feel his presence around him.

“It would appear,” Commander Arreis said, as he paced back and forth, “that some of our recruits have been pulled to a darker order. Those of you who knew Cedric,” he looked over at Ion, and not at his eyes but his chest, before looking back at everyone else, “he has left the Order. We learned last night that he’d paid a visit to a secret temple dedicated to the God Bhaal. Needless to say, Cedric is never to be accepted here and if you ever see him,” he looked at Ion again briefly, “I recommend you try to arrest him – and if you can’t – then kill him.”

Training at the Academy continued, but Ion’s scar on his chest never healed and he wondered who had given him a second chance at life – and why.

[Lendário]

Hi Tawmis. This is a character for a campaign in Eberron.

Name: Baki
Class: Arcane Trickster Rogue
Race: Halfling
Gender: Male
Background: Far Traveler
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Character concept: A Halfling from the Talenta Plains who got himself exiled from his tribe. Twice. With his strong personality, he never fit in well among his people. He's a big dreamer that wants to see the world. Despite feeling sad for leaving behind the few friends he had, he decided to leave the plains and go see Breland and the city of Sharn, that he once heard fascinating things about. There he got involved with a small band of Halfling thieves, earning enough to survive in the big city without luxury.

[WadeWay33]

Much needed SNIP.

THESE ARE AMAZING! Due to being locked in quarantine, I am going to be able to use both! Thank you so much! Also, glad to know you are back into the swing of things, it’s a highlight of my day to read the stuff you write.

[Tawmis]

Hi Tawmis. This is a character for a campaign in Eberron.

Name: Baki
Class: Arcane Trickster Rogue
Race: Halfling
Gender: Male
Background: Far Traveler
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Character concept: A Halfling from the Talenta Plains who got himself exiled from his tribe. Twice. With his strong personality, he never fit in well among his people. He's a big dreamer that wants to see the world. Despite feeling sad for leaving behind the few friends he had, he decided to leave the plains and go see Breland and the city of Sharn, that he once heard fascinating things about. There he got involved with a small band of Halfling thieves, earning enough to survive in the big city without luxury.

Added to the list!

THESE ARE AMAZING! Due to being locked in quarantine, I am going to be able to use both! Thank you so much! Also, glad to know you are back into the swing of things, it’s a highlight of my day to read the stuff you write.

Thank you! I enjoyed doing both of them!

And I'd hope to be back to writing here and knocking out the submissions in this thread - but like you, due to quarantine - I am in quite a few D&D games (even the games I was already in are now far more frequent) - but the new games I was in, I was asked to write backgrounds for their characters! So my writing has been used quite a bit! One of the cool things - Anita, who is only of my players that I DM for (originally that game, has been put on hold due to the current situation of the world - it's a party of 7 people - so it's difficult for them to get time down - especially one of them who is actively working to put an end to this Covid-19 stuff) - but Anita has gone on to learn to DM (I am in two of her games) - but she's also in another game that I am not in - and reached out to me, because they're doing stuff in Matt Mercer's "Wildemount" campaign. So she gave me the details of being a Pallid Elf Wizard - think Hermone Granger (Harry Potter) - and gave me how she's smart, and super snooty, socially awkward, has an ally who saves her (she didn't have any info), and that someone interested in her named Viktor would kill her parents in front of her. With those details, I figured I know she's a big Harry Potter fan... I would tie in several reference. While she didn't submit it in this thread, I figured I'd still share (see what others thought - she loved it).

Syleena Clearwater strained against the pregnancy. Beads of sweat trickled down her beautiful, elven features like rain coming down from dark grey clouds. She clutched the hand of her faithful husband, Aeron Clearwater. Even as the midwife barked at her to push, Syleena looked over at her husband and managed to moan the words, “I am so sorry.”

“Sorry,” he laughed, even as she squeezed harder to push again. “Whatever could you be sorry for? You’re doing just fine.” He looked down at the midwife for verification, and she acknowledged him with a nod of her head. “Everything’s going along fine.”

“Tonight,” she winced as pain shot through her spine, “is Barren Eve.”

Her husband chuckled, “It’s not an omen,” he promised her. Barren Eve fell on the 2nd of Duscar and was the longest night of winter. It was also the night in which people typically spend the day and nights mourning those specifically lost during the war, with the night skies lit up by thousands of candles, marking a light for each soul that perished.

Aeron peered out the window and could see Catha, the larger of the two moons, peering directly into the window and larger than he’d ever recalled seeing it before as if the very moon itself seemed interested in Syleena’s plight.

As the midwife guided the newborn infant into the world, she quickly wrapped it up and handed it to Syleena. “You should be proud,” the midwife smiled. “You have a beautiful baby girl.” With that she bowed and left the room so that the parents could have their privacy with their newborn.

Aeron peeled the soft blanket back, and Catha’s light beamed into the room, as if to see as well; and he could see the child’s earthly brown eyes staring back; brown to strawberry blond hair streaked across her head, line gentle plains capturing the light of the rising sun. Her pale skin, like all Pallid elves, seemed to take in the light of the moon’s gaze.

“Penelope,” Syleena smiled. “Her name is Penelope.”

Aeron smiled. “And it is a beautiful name.”


By the age of five, Penelope was obsessed with knowledge. Rather than go outside, she would visually consume endless volumes of tomes and books.

“Penelope,” her father would say, “you need to go outside. I am thankful that you’ve read,” and he’d peer over the large pile of books she’d finished – in just one week, and sigh, “but you need to go outside some. We are not Pallid Elves because we avoid the sun,” he chuckled. “You should go out and make friends.”

However, each time she attempted, she discovered she didn’t much care for those who played outside. When someone would come and speak with her, she’d simply say something like, “Did you know that frogs have teeth but toads do not?”

This usually incited a look of puzzlement from the child who approached her, as if stunned by magic, before regaining their composure and running away to play with the other children instead. For Penelope she did not mind. She’d simply return home and when her father saw her and stopped her to ask what happened, she’d explain, “Father, those children out there – they don’t even know about the orc nomads that roam the Rime Planes, who use large hunting cats to help them hunt – and if their hunting cats die, that they shave off their eye brows as a sign of mourning.”

“I am not sure I even knew that,” her father replied.

“Well, you should have. It’s in the History of Greying Wildlands, Volume Seven, written by Varus Oathblade,” she pointed to her father’s library.

He rubbed his right temple, “Yes, of course. I should have known. It’s just… You don’t get out much.”

“Well,” she countered, jabbing her finger behind her, “they don’t read much.” She walked away to sit down in the study and picked up, “The Art of Arcane and Mysticism, by Rauling Gingerbread.”

Aeron felt the familiar gentle touch of his wife’s hand resting on his shoulder. “Perhaps she would be better if we sent her to a school for magic. That seems to be primarily what she’s interested. Everything else she consumes is simply for the sake of knowledge.”

“She’s so young, though,” Aeron sighed. “She’s not even had a chance to live her life. If we send her to a school of magic she will never see the light of day. She’ll always be studying.”

“It’s what she does now. At least she will be happy,” Syleena countered.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admitted with a deep sigh.


Penelope had only been at the Stone Hallow Academy for two days before she had already caused ripples. As she was heading for her next class – Defense Against The Magical Creatures – she noticed there’d been a gather in the center of the lawn and people were jeering and shouting. She was going to keep walking when she caught from the corner of her eye, they were standing around a goblin.

The green skinned creature was small – like the gnome in her Ancient Artifacts class – who seemed resigned to his fate. They were going to hang the goblin for sneaking into one of the libraries and causing a fire that resulted in the loss of tomes of knowledge that had not yet been transcribed. Seemed to be a fitting fate for a creature who was focused on destroying knowledge. However, just as they pulled the rope to spring the noose, her arm – almost involuntarily moved up and she extended the index of her finger and whispered, “Kne’towl” and a single fire bolt sprung from her finger and hit the rope with perfect accuracy, burning it – so the goblin fell to the ground with the severed noose around his neck, much to his surprise.

The other wizards all turned and looked at her at the same time in disbelief. “What have you done?” barked the one on the platform as the goblin quickly found a sewer drain to leap down and make good of his escape.

“I,” Penelope stammered. But then something set in her mind – she stood her ground. “Do you not know about Goblins? They’re affected by Bane’s Curse of Strife. They’re helplessly goaded by Bane to commit acts of wanton destruction and malice. He isn’t even of his own mind. We should show mercy.”

“Mercy? Mercy? You do realize that monster burned volumes of tomes that we have now lost,” the wizard snapped back as he began to approach Penelope from the platform. “What would you have us do? Let them in? Welcome them? Give them the shirts off our back? The socks off our feet?”

She was surprised when a young male stepped between them.

“Master Quid,” the boy said, “I am sure she meant no harm. Perhaps we could all learn to show a little mercy?”

Master Quid stopped in his tracks. “Viktor,” he whispered. “Yes,” he finally said after a moment, “perhaps we could.” Master Quid turned around and shouted, “Why is everyone still standing here? You, don’t you have a Music class? And you? Don’t you have an Earth Magic class. Go on! Go on! Shoo now, there’s nothing here to see.”

The young boy turned around, “That was either the bravest or most foolish thing I’ve ever seen.” He extended his hand, “My name is Viktor.”

“I heard Master Quid say your name,” Penelope replied, “I have ears; big ones, being an elf. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said as she grabbed her books closer to her, and bumped into his shoulder as she left for class.

Viktor stared after her.


Viktor had spent the rest of the semester trying to get to know Penelope, but she remained closed. Every attempt to talk to her, she rebutted that she had to go to class, study, or spouted out a random fact about the difference between Minotaur anatomy and an actual bull’s anatomy.

In the month of Dualahei, just before the Renewal Festival, the school took a break allowing their students to return home. Viktor had approached Penelope, yet again to speak to her.

“My parents are teachers here at the academy,” Viktor began, “so I see them all semester. If you’re headed home and would like some company, I would love to go with you, meet your parents and your friends.”

“No thank you,” she said coolly, while packing her books that she would study while visiting her parents. She slung the backpack over her shoulder and headed for the carriage, leaving Viktor standing there – yet again – declined.

“Fine,” he whispered. “That’s just fine.”


A few short hours later, Penelope returned home, and had gone to shut the door just as she came inside, calling for her parents to let them know she was home – and in case they were trying to make more children to please stop. However, much to her surprise, she did not hear the door close behind her. She turned and saw a shadowed figure in the door.

One she recognized.

“Viktor? What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, his eyes ablaze. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your parents?”

Just then both her mother and father came around the stairwell. “Penelope? You brought a friend?”

“No mother, he was just leaving,” she said turning to him.

“No,” he said. “No I wasn’t. I’ve been… dying… to meet you both.”

Penelope let out a scream as Viktor raised his hands and fire erupted from them, striking her parents, consuming them in magical fire. Penelope began to rush to their side but Viktor’s next Thunderwave spell knocked her not only off her feet, but unconscious as she slipped on the cold, tile.

When she awoke, there were loud noises all around her. She could smell smoke. She suddenly sat up and saw her home ablaze. Her mother’s friends were holding her back. “It’s too late, Penelope dear,” she heard her weep. Penelope let out a scream and then shut down, falling into complete darkness.

With her mother and father gone, Master Quid took her under his wing and gave her a free home at the Academy. Viktor never returned to the school, and neither of his parents claimed they saw him again. Penelope wanted to find him. Understand why he did what he did. Then make him pay.

She became more distant, and further socially awkward, not sure how to deal with those who said they were sorry for her loss or had hoped to comfort her. She wanted none of that. The only thing that truly seemed to comfort her was reading.

One night while she was study, a stone came loose in her room and a familiar goblin stuck his head through. “They’re coming. He’s shown them the way in.”

“Who?” Penelope asked, leaning forward. “And what’s your name?”

“My name?” the goblin seemed shocked that she cared enough to ask. “Nor’orn,” he explained, “Nor’orn Greenskin. And for who,” he peered behind him nervously, “The bugbears,” he replied. “The wizard boy has shown them the secret entrance.”

“Wizard boy? Viktor?” she asked.

The goblin peered behind him in the darkness. “I must go. Warn your people.”

The goblin pulled the stone back and it appeared as if it never moved. She doubted she saw what she saw, but she could not chance it. She ran immediately to Master Quid’s room and shared the warning she’d been given. Master Quid sent several wizards down who were indeed ambushed and attacked in the passage.

The goblin had been telling the truth.

The Wizard were able to drive back the bugbears, but had they gotten any further they would have been able to murder most of the wizards before any knew what was happening.

Master Quid looked down at Penelope, “Perhaps we could all learn something from you, child.”


====

And here's the fun notes I sent her -
- Being born on Barren Eve (a Wildemount thing) - being the "longest night of winter" - I thought this would be a cool aspect to tie in with her "cold heart" (more so being socially awkward)
- The moon Catha (that's the largest moon in Wildemount) - "watching" the birth is sort of like a god or goddess keeping an eye on your birth, because you might be significant to the world - also to show the pale skin of the Pallid Elves.
- The reference to the orc nomads who shave their eyebrows after their hunting cats are killed is a reference to (Ancient) Egyptians who shaved their eyebrows when their cats died
- The author of "History of the Greyling Wildlands, Volume Seven" noted in the story (Varus Oathblade) is actually the name of my character in Paul Crowder's D&D campaign I play in
- The author of "The Art of Arcane and Mysticism by Rauling Gingerbread" - is a reference to J.K. Rawling and the Gingerbread reference is the character this she is the president of
- The name of the Academy "Stone Hallow Academy" is the first and last Harry Potter book (Sorceror's Stone & Deathly Hallows)
- When Penelope casts Fire Bolt she uses the arcade word of "Kne'towl" - which is "Newt" and "Owl" - the classes thing in Harry Potter (N.E.W.T.) and (O.W.L.) - "Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test" and "Ordinary Wizarding Level"
- When Master Quid says "What shall we do? Give it the shirt off our back? The socks off our feet?" - a reference to how to free a goblin in Harry Potter
- Saving the goblin in itself is a reference to Harry Potter
- Master Quid is a reference to "Quiddage"
- The classes Master Quid shouts at the students to go to are actual Harry Potter classes
- The goblin's name (Nor'orn Greenskin) is a reference to a goblin NPC in my work game (in the same game world I DM for you guys)
- The Bane Curse about goblins is a Wildemount thing and it says under the race for Goblinkin in the Wildemount book: It is nearly impossible for a goblinkin to break Bane’s curse on their own. Only those who undergo particularly traumatic events or are shown exceptional compassion typically find the inner strength to do so.
- So Penelope saving the goblin just before death broke him free of Bane's curse. And is now an NPC that the DM can use. :-) Along with the others.

--- Side note: My wife corrected me for a reference that Dobby was a House elf (in Harry Potter) not a goblin, but whatever. :)

Hi Tawmis, I'm playing a few more games than usual (online) as my social life has taken a nose dive for obvious reasons. I'm also going through a bit of a cleric phase at the moment. Would love to see what you make of this one when you have the time. Don't overdo the screen while you're wfh!

Malcer Stormwind
Cleric of Mystra

Born and raised in Silverymoon as part of a happy family, he has always been in love with magic which he sees as a thing of wonder and beauty in and of itself. Became a novice in the temple of Mystra, and was then assigned to the Silverwatch in a supporting role. Became quite good at solving crime.

Upon advancing to a fully fledged Servant of Mystery he left the city to go adventuring, which allows him to both so good and seek out and preserve interesting magical items. His tendency to wander does lead him to sometimes butt heads with more established members of the church hierarchy as he doesn't want to be tied down to a specific temple. Unbeknownst to him, he is being observed by a couple of Harper agents who are studying him with an eye to recruitment if he proves suitable.

EDIT: Made some amendments to the concept, mostly because I thought it could be fun to do the Harper thing in play rather than character creation.

This was fun to write; although I think I could have (easily) made this a little longer - I didn't want to make it an epic story. I technically still had 15 minutes left on my hour clock that I allow myself to write these.
I feel like I could explain more how he goes from studying like a Wizard, to becoming a cleric - but I left it to just the vision he gets.
I also ended up making a reference to the previous story in this post that I wrote for Anita (you will see if you read the previous background in this post). As always, it doesn't matter other than "a fun little Tawmis-Verse" kind of thing.
I hope this is what you were looking for - if not, please let me know!
Oh and you didn't mention what race Malcer was so I didn't go into anything in regards to what race he might be.
As always, please leave feedback - it bumps the three and keeps it alive.
And also - as always ...
Enjoy!
=================================================

Born in the growing town of Silvery Moon, Malcer Stormwind grew up in a loving family. At a young age, his parents encouraged and endorsed him in each and every one of his efforts, doing whatever they could to help Malcer achieve what he wanted out of life. By the time that Malcer was a teenager he became interested in the arcane arts. But something would veer Malcer from following the path of becoming an Arcane Mystic. During one of his studies, a fellow student – a human named Raistilus Timegate – was grievously injured when someone had tampered with his potions, causing a mixture of two chemicals that should have produced nothing more than a foul odor to explode. While Malcer was not close with the unusual human who suffered these wounds, he felt compelled to do what was right. He often went to the Church and prayed for Raistilus to recover – and it was there his path began to change. In the Church of Mystra, which had been located next to the Loadstone Academy (said to have been built upon a fallen star fragment) is where Malcer suddenly felt a sense of peace and ease. His mind cleared and it were as if he could was seeing that fateful day in slow motion with utter clarity. He could see now that Langtree Cystalthorn had tampered with Raistilus’ potions, quickly pouring in a portion of some form of green liquid.

Malcer began to delve into the backgrounds of both Raistilus and Langtree. Raistilus came from an extensive lineage of known Mystics, while Crystalthorn’s family also came from a long line of Mystics; they were never quite as known or rose in the ranks in the Academy, the way the Timegate family had. The Crystalthorn family had a long history of trying to prove their worth by performing dangerous tests, often with disastrous results. Had this been a simple issue of jealousy? Some form of means to remove direct competition so that perhaps Langtree would no longer be overshadowed.

Malcer was glad to hear that Raistilus would make a full recovery, though he would suffer scars that the clerics could not heal, both on his face and on his hands. His face, Raistilus could have probably dealt with, but his hands – as a Mystic – he would need use of his fingers. If this had been Langtree, he may have planned this perfectly – to hurt Raistilus enough to ruin his hands, and perhaps his face to prevent him from uttering the delicate words of magic – but he hadn’t killed Raistilus – that might have drawn too much attention to the accident. This would be, by local authorities, swept under the rug as an unfortunate accident.

But for Malcer, he wanted to know for sure if this was an unfortunate accident, or had the vision he had revealed a much darker secret.

Malcer found Langtree sitting on a hammock on his estate, enjoying the morning sun, as the Loadstone Academy continued to clean the potion room which had suffered significant damage, from shattered vials to burned tomes. Malcer came to stand next to Langtree, who after a moment, no longer felt the warmth of the sun and wondered what had happened. He held his hands over his eyes and peered to his left, started to see Malcer standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you do it?” Malcer asked simply.

Langtree swung his legs over the edge of the hammock and set them firmly on the ground. “Did I do what?”

“Tamper with Raistilus’ healing potion making vial,” Malcer asked, though he knew full well that Langtree knew exactly what he had meant.

Langtree stood up. “Of course not! Why would I do such a thing?”

“Competition,” Malcer replied. “For generation – and I mean generations – your family has often been overlooked in favor of the Timegate family when it came for positions of power among the Mystics. This would be your chance to show your family – and all of Silverymoon that your family is not ‘second place’ and it would all begin with you.”

“That’s madness!” Langtree barked back. “Utter and complete madness.”

“I thought so too,” Malcer admitted. “I thought I had seen a fever dream when I was kneeled down in the Church of Mystra. But standing before you, I see clearly now.”

“What does that mean?” Langtree clenched his fists.

Malcer pointed at Langtree’s clenched fists. “You were never good at potion making. Seems like something you’re entire family has been haunted by. While I was standing here, I noticed your fingertips.” Langtree clenched his hands tighter, as if to hide them. “The one thing your family has often failed at during the Mystic training was understanding the delicacy of potion crafting. You burned your own finger tips because the corrosion you poured into Raistilus’ healing potion burned your own hand in the process.”

“You have no proof!” Langtree growled.

“Don’t I though?” he turned and said over his shoulder. “Then you have nothing to fear when I tell the local authorities.”

At that moment, he heard something shatter against his back, and his cloak got wet. He spun and turned, smiling. “That was a mistake,” Malcer smiled. “You see, I suspected it was you – and this,” he tugged on the cloak, “is coated in anti-acidic liquid. But,” he looked at the green liquid dripping on the cloak, “I am pretty sure this mixture will be the same mixture that was found in Raistilus’ healing potion he was making during the class.”

The local authorities were there to arrest Langtree, who cursed and howled at Malcer who watched him being hauled away.

Master Quid, a teacher who was well know for using his portals to teach at various classes smiled, “It would seem I have quite a few impressive young pupils these days. You were wise to ask for help on the potion to create something to protect you from the same acid we’d found in Raistilus’ healing potion. But if Langtree ever gets out… you must know you’ve made a mortal enemy this night. Not only has he been shamed and banned from the classroom, now his family, which has always struggled to make a name for themselves will be associated to the actions of their son. It’s a burden he will carry until he extracts his revenge upon you.”

Unbeknowst to him, two fellow members in his classroom were more than aspiring mystics; they were Harpers and now they had their eye on this clever Cleric of Mystra.

Name: Rafiq
Race: Bugbear
Gender: Male
Class: Fighter (headed to Battlemaster)
Background: Mercenary Veteran (The Chill)
Alignment: Neutral

Personality Traits: I’ve lost too many friends, and I’m slow to make new ones. I have a crude sense of humor.
Ideal: Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny. (Chaotic)
Bonds: I’ll never forget the crushing defeat my company suffered or the enemies who dealt it. Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.
Flaw: I made a terrible mistake in battle that cost many lives, and I would do anything to keep that mistake secret.

Keepsake: Banner of The Chill attached to his weapon (Glaive currently)

Oh. This was fun to write. I wasn't sure where to start it - so I started it with him wounded.
And just let myself... just write. I took a back seat and let the creativity just pour out of me.
And I actually really like how his "secret that he'd die to keep" came about by the time I reached the end of this.
Hopefully this works for you - and if it doesn't tell me - and I may revisit this to get it right if it doesn't work for you!
My apologies it took so long - been in a metric ton of D&D games lately!
As always - please leave feedback - it bumps the thread, it lets me know if you liked it or not, even if it's a simple "Loved it" or "hated it" (naturally I'd love to hear more specifics but I just want to know if folks are enjoying - or even seeing these after they request it!)
As always, I hope you enjoy!
====================================

Rafiq blinked his eyes slowly. Blood cascaded down from above his eyes like a crimson dam whose walls had been shattered. He tried to sit up but every bone in his chest felt as it’d been crushed and broken, as if a giant tramped through the woods, carelessly shattering and sundering everything beneath its gargantuan feet.

Rafiq tried to draw in breath, but found it nearly impossible. The weight on his crushed ribs was so immense that he was literally suffocating. He growled furiously and wiped the blood from his eyes again, and for a brief moment could see part of the problem. A rotund ogre lay sprawled across his body, felled by an arrow between its fat, baby-like face. His left arm had still been pinned beneath the dead ogre, and after a considerable amount of struggle, he pulled his arm free; though he was certain that it was broke at the wrist, undoubtedly from when he put his hand up to stop the ogre from falling on him in the heat of the battle.

Shoving all the pain that wracked his body – and especially his left wrist – Rafiq screamed and howled as he pushed the ogre’s heavy carcass while trying to pull himself free of the dead beast. When he had managed to finally do so, he could see that his right ankle was also broken. He heaved a sigh of relief then gave into the intense pain that followed once the adrenaline cooled down, and lapsed into immediate darkness.

He awoke to seeing Segor, the Chill’s primary shaman standing over him. Segor was a hobgoblin, whose light blue skin marked him as something different than the standard hobgoblin; almost resembling aquamarine colors. He claimed it was a birth defect and nothing special, but he was also the only one to survive a pandemic that ran through his village wiping out the rest of his clan. Ardenor Crush, founder of the Chill had found him, as a young adult wandering – and a natural healer, he knew he could use his skillset.

“You fought well against the Blue Sigil,” Segor said, sitting down next to Rafiq.

“The others?” Rafiq tried to sit up and look around, but before Segor could tell him to take it easy, his body quickly – and painfully – reminded him that though Segor may have mended the flesh; the bones would take a while to “snap” back into place.

Segor shook his head, “Unfortunately, the others… did not return. We had even thought you lost. But you stumbled into the camp, eyes closed, going on memory alone. You were not even coherent when you arrived.”

Rafiq laid his head back down. “How was I the only one to survive the ambush against the Blue Sigil?”

“I asked myself the same question,” Segor replied. “I had watched my family, my friends, my tribe all die a slow and painful death. Someone must have told the Blue Sigil your band was there. They must have a spy or an informant or knew your location by magical means.”

Rafiq simply nodded – but his mind traced back to the night of that battle.

“We shouldn’t go forward,” Rafiq’s best friend, Goroth, a fellow bugbear he’d known all of his life. “We’re a part of the Icicles. We’re the ambushers. If we wait – as we’ve been commanded – they Blue Sigil will be pinned between the walls – and because of their mass, will be easier to trap with nets before we sling our spears.”

“That’s just it,” Rafiq turned towards his friend. “The Blue Sigil have been a bane to us for too long. We could wait. We could spring our trap. And we will probably kill many of them before they’re forced to turn and flee. But I am tired of ambushing. I want to challenge them. Confront them. Let them know we’re not afraid.”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Goroth said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “But not tonight.”

In the distance, they could see the torch light of the approaching ogres of the Blue Sigil. They were coming towards The Hourglass Pass – a small path, where like its name, each side of the mountain path comes inward, forming an hourglass appearance from above. That’s where the Rafiq and the others waited to spring their trap – to throw their nets down at the choke point, and throw spears and shoot arrows from above. The Blue Sigil were coming forward in hopes of tracking down the Chill and attacking the camp.

Rafiq, however, could not put his impulse aside. Quietly he stepped back and quickly made his way down to rocky path – and it was too late when Goroth had spotted his good friend moving towards the Hourglass.

“You damn fool,” Goroth muttered.

“Blue Sigil!” Rafiq howled, his voice bouncing down the Hourglass Pass. The Blue Sigil came to a halt before the choke point. “We have no fear of you. We never have. We heard the fat, thundering footsteps of your overweight bodies from miles away! And today,” he clutched his glaive, “I will cut you all down.” He howled and charged forward.

The Ogres however were nowhere near the chokepoint. The hobgoblin commander barked commands for them to move down as quickly as they could – and shouted for the melee division to run in and come out of the caves to help Rafiq. The chaos ensued and Rafiq had done as he promised, cutting down several ogres, just as the other members of the Chill arrived behind him, cursing his name. From above, they had moved and began throwing down needs. One Ogre batted the net away and swung wildly at Rafiq. Rafiq stepped back but twisted his ankle on a rock. The Ogre howled and cheered, bringing his Warhammer over his head – only to be struck by an arrow between the eyes. Rafiq had enough time to see that Goroth had saved him, before he realized the immense ogre was about to fall on him. He extended his left hand which he heard snap; then got the wind knocked out of him. He tried to keep breathing, but the ogre’s weight, and some broken ribs was making it increasingly more difficult. He saw ogres making their way up the side path towards the archers – towards his friend. He reached out with his right hand and lapsed into blackness.

Rafiq came back to the present; no one else had survived. No one. No one would know his shame. He would die to hide that secret.

“Yes,” he finally said looking up at Segor with sorrowful eyes, “they must be using magic.”

[Jaryn]

Hmm - the quote function appears to have disappeared for me. In any case, thank you so much for Malcer's background - I love it! I particularly enjoyed the way that you played with the mystery genre, having stuff happen and then doing the reveal to explain afterwards. Thank you 😀

[Tawmis]

Hmm - the quote function appears to have disappeared for me. In any case, thank you so much for Malcer's background - I love it! I particularly enjoyed the way that you played with the mystery genre, having stuff happen and then doing the reveal to explain afterwards. Thank you 😀

Thanks! Was enjoyable to write. Sorry it took so long. Knee deep in many D&D games these days, like many, I'm sure.

And now that work has accepted this "work from home" is going to be the new norm - a bunch of projects I am on - that were all put on hold - and now gearing up again.

Hello Tawmis. Hope all is well. When you have time, here are two odd characters for you.
I played these character already but I believe your story writing will bring it alive and fun for others.

1. Name Frawd, My name is FRAWD!
Race Hill Dwarf, but denies he is a dwarf.
Class Sorcerer wild magic
Background Hermit.
During a day of mining he located a shiny glow of energy behind the rocks. Excited upon his discovery, he mined the crack more until a fissure of wild magic exploded; bathing him in glowing magic. Every other Dwarf had vanished in the explosion. He ran, his mind fractured, he ritually keeps his head and beard shaven clean prestidigitation cantrip. If I can find what happened, i can find who I am.

This was both fun and a challenge. I think I am a funny person, myself.
But I've never really done a "funny" D&D campaign nor written a "funny" type character before.
So, this was fun for that challenge - and then to get the answers to his questions... then have what happens at the end.
Won't spoil it, but if it's not clear - let me know!
The wizard name is a reference to one of my all time favorite Dragonlance wizards - Dalamar.
Anyway! Hope you enjoy!
Would love to hear your thoughts.
Enjoy.
=========================================

“Listen to me! I’d know what I am! And I ain’t no Hill Dwarf!” Frawd growled as patrons in the tavern gathered around the escalating argument.

Dalmarius, a Dark Elf of renowned power and reputation, and widely accepted despite his outward appearance raised an eye brow. “You’re nowhere near as stocky as a Mountain Dwarf. And lack the complexion of a Duergar – trust me, I’d know. And neither are you Derro or Frost Dwarf. Because they would never remove their beards – for that matter,” Dalmarius gave it some thought, his purple eyes darting back and forth, “No Dwarf in their right mind would remove their facial hair. I’ve heard of Shield and Sun Dwarves, but you lack the tan color of their skin; which leaves me back to A Hill Dwarf. But what I am curious about is the magic. Why does your body surge with it?”

Frawd tried to recall. His mind was a jigsaw puzzle; but most of the pieces didn’t fit. He saw himself as a human in a mine, hammering away with a pick into grey stone. A blue skinned orc had whipped his back and caused him to bleed. He saw his reflection in the droplets of blood, his Hafling features staring back at him. He clenched his fist and with the pick brought it up against the creature – which was now a goblin! The goblin held up a shield and Frawd could see his features reflected in the shield’s glistening steel, and he saw himself as a Minotaur. Then there was an explosion.

When he opened his eyes – he was reduced to the form he was in now and all the other slaves – and all of the evidence of the orcs and goblin slavers was gone. Had he been unconscious for so long that they thought him dead and mined these mines for everything that it was worth? No. That didn’t make sense. He would have starved. And why did his appearance keep changing?

“I think whatever happened to me,” Frawd began to explain, “changed me. I used to be human. Then a Halfling. Then a Minotaur. And now… this.”

“Interesting,” Dalmarius smiled. “There is an old saying in the History books – that the Dwarven God created the Dwarves in his image. Proclaimed that they will be as versatile as humans, as small as Halflings, and like Minotaurs, never got lost beneath the ground and bare their strength and endurance.”

“That’s ridiculous! The Dwarves came before Halflings, Man and Minotaurs!” Frawd protested.

Dalmarius raised an eyebrow and a coy smile crossed his ebony dark elven features, “That’s certainly the stance of any Dwarf.”

Frawd paused. “Gods… am I… a Dwarf? Am I really a dwarf?”

Dalmarius nodded, “Not only that – but it would appear your body was somehow infused with this magic that emanates from your body allowing you to wield it. Has there been anyone in your bloodline that you recall being able to wield magic?”

Frawd placed his hands on his head; each time he tried to think to a previous day – anything beyond twenty four hours made his brain spin, flip, and then giggle in his ears. “I don’t remember,” Frawd final said.

“Would you allow me to study the magic emanating from you?” Dalmarius asked. “Even from here I can tell it’s emanating a very… unique signature.”

“I guess, if you think it will help,” Frawd admitted.

It’d been three weeks of living in Dalmarius’ mage tower, which admittedly made Frawd feel queer and uncomfortable – which made him realize – perhaps he was a Dwarf, as Dwarves tended to mistrust those who wielded magic. He looked at his own hands which pulsated with white magic, ebbing and flowing between his fingertips – which presented a problem for himself.

Finally Dalmarius came out from the upper tower. “I have good news,” the dark elf said, coming to sit next to Frawd. “The signature of magic – I tracked it down. There’s remnants of the magic still flowing near Greymine Hills.”

“That’s a Hill Dwarf mining community,” Frawd said, somehow recalling that.

“That is correct,” Dalmarius replied. “There’d been a human wizard by the name of Malum who employed the Greymine Hill Dwarves to do some excavating for him. He told them that he was searching for an artifact that had been lost in time – and he believed he’d tracked it down. It was a Crystal Ball of Hydrus.” Dalmarius looked at Frawd, “And my guess is that your pick struck it and shattered it, and all the magic coursed into your body. Malum, and the others all disappeared when search parties were sent in after seeing a white light explode from the mines. You must have either been shunted or fled before they arrived.”

“Where’s Malum then? And the other Hill Dwarves?” Frawd asked.

“If I were to hazard a guess; when the crystal ball exploded, it shunted all of you – perhaps some of them also shunted out of whatever dimension it thrust you through – but there’s a good chance that Malum, and perhaps the other Hill Dwarves are still trapped there.”

Frawd had come to accept he was a Hill Dwarf. “I need to find a way to free them.”

Dalmarius nodded. “I can do some research on my end. But there’s a Mage’s Academy several miles to the North. Look for Seiveis. He should be able to help you.”

Frawd nodded. “Thanks, Dalmarius. You’re not bad for a wizardry type.”

Frawd left and waved goodbye, however as he’d done so, he struck his head on a wooden sign that pointed which direction the Mage’s Academy was located.

When he regained consciousness, he sat up. Saw the Mage Academy sign pointing to the west. He couldn’t remember why – but something told him to head that way.

Wait.

He looked at his hands.

Why were they glowing white?

[Alluster716]

Name: Cassius Twilight-Might
Age:
Race: Human
Alighnment: Chaotic Neutral
Cassius is a sage Fiendlock Level five (Chain pact boon)


Personality Traits
I’ve read every book in the world’s greatest libraries—or I like to boast that I have.
Ideals
No Limits. Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence. (Chaotic)
Bonds
I have an ancient text that holds terrible secrets that must not fall into the wrong hands.
Flaws
Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.

[huginn]

Name: Drake Flint
Race: Human
Class: ranger 1 will be taking gloom stalker
Alignment: lawful neutral
Background:urban bounty hunter

Ideal: I don't steal from others in the trade
Flaw: I am inflexible in my thinking
Not sure what Personality Trait or bond to take.


My concept is I was a henchmen for the bad guy and I been thinking about 2 different ways
1) My parents were tenet farmers and my choices were become a tenet farmer, bandit or priest. I joined out of desperation but I felt they were going too far. They didn't become bandits out of desperation they were greedy bullies. I started to see them as being partly to blame for my family being so poor as they would steal from the poor
2) I was working for a corrupt official, a sheriff of nottingham type and after seeing how corrupt he is I switched sides

In either case I see something bad that happened which caused me to turn against them and on some level I knew what I was doing was wrong. I seek to redeem myself for what I did

[Tawmis]

Name: Cassius Twilight-Might
Age:
Race: Human
Alighnment: Chaotic Neutral
Cassius is a sage Fiendlock Level five (Chain pact boon)

Name: Drake Flint
Race: Human
Class: ranger 1 will be taking gloom stalker
Alignment: lawful neutral
Background:urban bounty hunter

Both have been added to the queue! I was just about to give up on getting new submissions! Was down to only three more!

Name: Julian Colt
Class: Monster Slayer Ranger
Age:27
Race: Aasimar (Scourge)
Gender: Male
Background: Hunted one
Harrowing Event: A fiend that slaughtered my mother, spared me, my sister and my fathers life, and you don't know why.
Family:
Father:(Dead) Jonathan Colt -Human- Former solider turn blacksmith
Mother:(Dead) Sarah Colt -Human- Farmer
Sister: Eleanor Colt -Former Human Turned Tiefling -
the idea is that, when he was 4 his mother was killed by a devil called Abaddon, after as she saw her feeding her daughter devils blood, in order to make a super solider to fight on her side. and after that his father began investigating the cause of Sarah's death and learned about supernatural creatures and the people who hunted them.so his father became a hunter himself, and trained Julian to be one as well, though both hid the supernatural from Eleanor until she was 8 years old. Eleanor apparently started hunting alongside her brother and father around the age of twelve, however, she began wanting a normal life without monsters; years later, a teacher encouraged her to carve out a life away from the "family business" after reading Eleanor 's story about a werewolf hunt. At nineteen, after a heated argument with John, Eleanor leaves for the capital city, thus leaving her family and their hunting crusade behind her
the idea is based on dean Winchester from the supernatural TV show

This was entirely too easy to write. I just wrote a "D&D Supernatural Fanfic."
The black horse, obviously represents the black Impala. Named the horse, "Impala" and gave the name a meaning.
The first town mentioned is clearly a mix of Padalackie and Ackles names. The second city mentioned is meant to sound like "Eric Kripe"
I tried to write it in the same flavor and voice of Dean Winchester.
Hope you enjoy - would love to hear feedback!
=====================================

The moon and stars gently followed the trotting horse steps of the figure moving through the shadows; ever curious what this mysterious rider may be doing. The rider pulled gently on the reins of his midnight black warhorse. “Easy, Impala,” he whispered, the name given to the horse from an ancient Elven word meaning “my sole friend” – though, some argued it meant “my soul, friend.”

Unlike the other horse, he knew he would not need to tie Impala to the post. She was loyal and faithful like no other he’s ever known. Pushing the inn keep doors open, the creaked and groaned, like a tree’s branches screaming against the wind. All eyes turned to him, and rather than feel uncomfortable, this made Julian Colt, an Aasimar Ranger, smile as he settled into a chair.

“Gentlemen,” Julian said, gesturing around the room, “and for some of you, I use that term loosely – very loosely – it would seem as though we have a problem.”

“And what might that problem be,” a half-orc stood up, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“It would seem,” he began, then thanked the waitress as she dropped off his drink, “thank you, darling,” he turned back to the others, “Where was I now? Oh yes, it would seem that one of you is a gosh darn rat.”

“A rat?” the half-orc, though admittedly not overly intelligent, was now considerably confused. “You mean, like a snitch?”

“No,” Julian took a big swig of his drink and swung his feet off the table. “I mean in the literal sense. An actual rat.”

The patrons glanced around the room and wondered if the Ranger sitting before them had lost his mind. “Let me clarify those confused looks you each have,” he said gesturing to each of them with his empty mug. “It would seem one of you is not what you appear to be. As it would turn out, one of you murdered a man I knew – quite well – in the town of Padackles. Now, we can do this the nice way,” Julian said, sliding his empty mug across the table and standing up. “Or, if you want – this goes down the hard way.”

Julian placed his hand on his crossbow and looked around the room.

Julian’s mother was killed when he was just four years old, by a demon named Abaddon. Julian’s mother, Sarah, had stumbled upon Abaddon dripping her own blood into the mouth of Sarah’s daughter, Eleanor – Julian’s younger sister. Abaddon then used her foul magic to slam Sarah against the wall and snap her neck. When Julian’s father, Jonathan arrived in the room, Abaddon quickly fled.

When Julian turned thirteen his body underwent a change; and he discovered his bloodline had that of an angel, as his Aasimir features made themselves known. Jonathan confessed that he knew about their special bloodline, and that it had come from his side – and skipped generations. However, when Eleanor turned thirteen, it was not Aasimar like features that revealed itself – but Tiefling-like. Horns emitted from her head, and her eyes glowed yellow – similar to that of Abaddon.

The three had made it a “family business” to hunt down demons – hoping to one day find Abaddon and get revenge for the murder of Sarah, and the corruption placed on Eleanor. Eleanor parted ways from her brother and father, after a dispute and sought out to try and lead a normal life, fearful that the “hunting” was going to darken her soul further. During one of the missions, Jonathan had left Julian to pursue what he believed was a connection to a cult that had ties to Abaddon.

Jonathan never returned.

Julian had taken up the family business upon himself and had been meeting with a friend of his in Padackles. His friend had gone to the shop – and never returned. When Julian went to find his friend, he’d found him by the barn, his throat slit. Tracks on the ground revealed them to be human – up until the center of the city – where suddenly they had turned rat-like and fled down into a sewer. Julian tracked the creature through the sewer and out the other side of the town, where the sewer emptied out into a lake.

The murderer had clearly hoped that between the shifting forms, and the trip through the sewer, and then coming out of the lake – that no one would be able to track him.

Little did he know that it was none other than Julian Colt who had picked up the trail – and Julian prided himself on being an expert tracker, which led him here to the small town of Airkripe – and this small, horrendously smelling tavern, “The Swan Song.”

“All you have to do is tell me who came in here about ten minutes before me,” Julian explained, as he loaded up his crossbow. He raised an eye brow and looked at each of them. “But you’re not going to do that are you? By the looks of it, you’re all pals, with your dingy little members only jackets.” Julian shook his head. “That’s a shame. You see,” he slung his crossbow onto his shoulder, “chances are, you got approached by a beautiful demon. I mean, Abaddon is gorgeous – weird horns and tail and goat feet aside – she’s beautiful. And she probably told you where I was. And the assassin was probably sent to kill me but in the shadows couldn’t tell who they killed was not me, but a good friend of mine.”

Several of the patrons stared at a small human.

Julian smiled. “Well,” he pointed his crossbow at the human, “so it was you then?”

He watched as the others began to draw their weapons. “I suppose you’re right in your thinking. Kill me now is just as good as if he’d killed me back at the farm, right?”

Six minutes later, Julian Colt walked out of the tavern, threw some gold on the closest still standing table. “I apologize about the mess. Hopefully the blood won’t take much to wash away. You may also consider better patrons.”

He slid on top of Impala who huffed at him, that he’d done all the killing and not needed her to pummel someone with her hooves. He patted her on the neck. “Don’t worry, Impala. I got another lead on Abaddon from one of them wererats.”

[Klorox]

Ok, how about this? I’m looking for an expanded story on a kenku paladin. Brief story is he was observing the initiation of a paladin into his order, he started mimicking the ceremony, and found himself unwittingly initiated into the order.

He’ll obviously be a very strange paladin.

[Vooez]

I've got two, choose which one you like better :)
Both have some background I came up with but feel free to change it as you please.

First: Coal, a fire genasi sage wizard (probably abjurer).
I imagine him as being born in the city of brass in the elemental plain of fire, and he lived a life of service to an efreeti. Since he was genasi he was treated slightly better then the other slaves, and at some point he befriended an old wizard who was also enslaved. Eventually he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, and was sentenced to death/exile but by some miracle (maybe with the help of the old wizard) he was sent to the material plain, and would eventually find a home in waterdeep/boulder's gate. Now at his new home he wants to become stronger so he doesn't waster the opportunity he got, and one day perhaps defeat the efreet who enslaved him..

Second: no name yet. A wood elf hermit druid, circle of spores. I imagine him as belonging to a tribe/town of wood elves but being the like the odd kid in class who used to collect bugs that creeped everyone only with mushrooms and spores. Eventually his odd fascination with shrooms gets him shunned by his village and he left to keep exploring. He would set up shop in the relativly safer first layer of the underdark, and after being there so long he started to look like drow (pale purplish skin and white hair), however he was still very much a wood elf and good aligned. At some point his home at the underdark would be destroyed somehow (drow, mindflayers, lots of options) and he would be forced to go back to the surface, still intent on keeping his research and explore the world.

[Aldreck]

Very interesting thread, and I have a few ideas for characters at the moment, with backstories that could do with fleshing out. For starters, how about this:

Braelaine, Wood Elf, True Neutral, Barbarian (Wolf Totem), Outlander background

Braelaine narrowly survived being mauled by a werewolf when he was a young boy. Unfortunately for him, the deeply superstitious folk of his village took a dim view of having a newly-turned lycanthrope living among them, and he was forced to flee the town with a torch-and-pitchfork-wielding mob at his heels. Trying to survive in the wilderness while limiting his contact with civilised folk, he eventually found company with a circle of Moon Druids, who took him in as an adoptive son, found ways to control/restrain him during his transformations and eventually contracted a travelling cleric/paladin to break the curse on him. Though he was offered druid training and a position in the circle, Braelaine declined, as the thought of transforming into an animal again, even voluntarily, made him uneasy. Instead he trained to become a barbarian, with his rage ability representing him recalling nightmarish memories of his cursed form. Now he finds work as a monster hunter, with a particular interest in evil lycanthropes so that no innocent shall have to bear the curse as he did.

[Tawmis]

Ok, how about this? I’m looking for an expanded story on a kenku paladin. Brief story is he was observing the initiation of a paladin into his order, he started mimicking the ceremony, and found himself unwittingly initiated into the order.

I've got two, choose which one you like better :)
Both have some background I came up with but feel free to change it as you please.
First: Coal, a fire genasi sage wizard (probably abjurer).
Second: no name yet. A wood elf hermit druid, circle of spores.

Very interesting thread, and I have a few ideas for characters at the moment, with backstories that could do with fleshing out. For starters, how about this:
Braelaine, Wood Elf, True Neutral, Barbarian (Wolf Totem), Outlander background

I've added these three to my word document to get to - however, there's going to be a delay before I get around to these.
I am currently working on writing a module for DMs Guild that is a sequel to my current module (See this thread).

However, I welcome more additions (I have email notifications turned on so I will be notified) and may need to take a break from the module and do a character background - so I welcome folks to keep adding to this thread.

[Great Dragon]

I found this on Page 6 of the 5e catagory!
Hope all is well, my friend.

Anyway, here's a background you might have fun with:
One of my current PCs is a Folk Hero Kobold Ancestral Barbarian.
But, what isn't known is his Wife! Except that she is still a Kobold.

Spoiler

Show

There's a good chance he's a Pa!!

This PC is from my Council of Wyrms Campaign, which is an Island World (officially) ruled by Dragons.
I look forward to seeing what you come up with !!

[WadeWay33]

i found this on page 6!
Hope all is well, my friend.

keep the thread alive!

[Tawmis]

Anyway, here's a background you might have fun with:
One of my current PCs is a Folk Hero Kobold Ancestral Barbarian.
But, what isn't known is his Wife! Except that she is still a Kobold.

Spoiler

Show

There's a good chance he's a Pa!!

This PC is from my Council of Wyrms Campaign, which is an Island World (officially) ruled by Dragons.
I look forward to seeing what you come up with !!

Added!

keep the thread alive!

Hah, that's why when I PM the folks I fulfill requests for - to come here and reply and give me feedback even if it's "I like it" or "I hate it" - it helps keep the thread alive, since I can't self bump without invoking the wrath of the moderators.

[Great Dragon]

Tawmis - the story of Kage Runar; the Half-Orc Fighter Echo Knight is very interesting.
I haven't had time to read into how this Class works or the Wildemont Lore about them.
This gives me an idea on what to look for when I do.

I also can't help but wonder what will happen next with Kage.
I'm sure the Elf's soul will not be passive in the interrogations.....
But that can only be answered by KyleG https://forums.giantitp.com/member.php?176213-KyleG

[togapika]

Fin Varra
Male Satyr Warlock

Met and fell in love with a Succubus who ended up falling for him. They were even set to be married. When heaven and hell found out, they drug her away to parts unknown, while heaven condemned him and hell cursed him. Only problem for hell was the entity they got to curse him had never cursed a Fey before, so instead of harming him, it forged a link between them and granted him the powers of a Fiend Warlock without actually making a deal.

Not sure who seduced/charmed/romanced whom, but feel free to make it whomever you think is better/funnier.

[Tawmis]

Hey Tawmis, I've got a bit of a challenge for you (I think). I'd love if you would write up the story of two brothers. Children of the same remarkable, human mother, but different fathers. The idea is that the mother died when the boys were very young (3-5 years old?) but had a powerful spell created that forced them to be raised as foster sons by the other's father. The first, a Tiefling Celestial Warlock, was raised in Heaven by the General of the Angelic Host. The second, an Aasimar Conquest Paladin, was raised in the Abyss by its Demonic King.

Names: Ontogenes and Philogenes Velciter (mothers last name)

They are fated to destroy the world, but an obscure piece of prophecy has recently been found by Ontogenes that has made him reconsider what CAN be, as it seems to indicate he and his brother could work together to destroy their fathers and end the war, thus saving the world.

Side note, I wasn’t sure which was which – so I assumed Ontogenes was the Tiefling (since you name him first and in the paragraph above it says, “The first, a tiefling…”) So I assume he’s the Tiefling and that Philogenes is the Aasimar. If that’s not the case, it will be a matter of just switching their names.

A lot of this does focus on the mother, since she plays a critical role in the background... and I leave it open for what comes next, leaving both children around the age of 17 and 18.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Replies help keep this thread alive.
As always, enjoy!
================================



Shiela Velciter had been a hard working woman. Since she was a young child, she had worked for her father at the Heaven & Hell Tavern – a tavern named after their heavenly beds and exceptionally hot and spicy food that her grandmother, Allinicia had learned from recipes passed down generations on her side of the family. Though she enjoyed working for her father, Tarvell Velciter, she had always something more out of her life. Her father naturally did not see it that way; he’d expected her to take up after her recently deceased mother’s role when she was old enough to work the kitchen.

When she was ten years old, an elderly wizard had come to the tavern and sat himself in the far corner. He only ordered water, no food, and had been staring at the door as if expecting someone. As Shiela had been sweeping near him, he whispered, “Come here, dear girl.”

She looked at him and he had seemed harmless enough. He reached into his robes and handed her an ancient tome. “There will be a man… he has red eyes… no, wait… ice white eyes… wait, no, one red, one white… yes, yes, that’s it, I think. I need you to give this to him. It’s very, very, important. Can you do that for me, young one?”

She held the old tome in her hands, which had a leather bound strap around it and seemed as if would turn to ashes in her hands. “I can,” she replied, “are you going somewhere? Getting a room?”

But that’s when she’d noticed, the old man had, in those moments, passed away peacefully in the chair. She tucked the tome under her arm and summoned her father who then contacted local authorities. The unknown wizard was buried in the town’s graveyard in an unmarked grave.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years; Shiela always waited for this man who would come for this tome to walk in through the door. One year, she simply stopped bringing it to the tavern and left it hidden under her bed. When she was sixteen, as she was cleaning her room, her father having recently passed, and she became the sole owner of the Heaven & Hell Tavern, alongside her grandmother, Allinicia (who, to Shiela seemed as though she never aged), she rediscovered the tome, which she had forgotten about. Daring to open it, she learned that there had been what appeared to be arcane words scribbled inside. Knowing her grandmother once practiced witchcraft, she showed it to her, and her grandmother began the task of translating the tome.

Seeing Shiela’s interest in the arcane, her grandmother not only taught her the family recipe, but also began taking the time to teach her magic. It took another three years to completely translate the tome, but by the age of nineteen, Shiela was well versed in magic. Her grandmother passed away, writing the last line of the tome, “And so, Heaven and Hell shall find love in the same place; and so Heaven and Hell, share bare into this world darkness and light, and so shall the darkness and light, wage a war so terrible that ashes will be all that remains, as the fires of hell burn this world, and the tears of angels quench the flames, for all eternity.”

When she was twenty one and still working at Heaven & Hell, she’d forgotten all about the old man she saw eleven years old, or she might have remembered – a young man, a guitar on his back, long, flowing black hair, outlandishly bright clothing, came into the Heaven & Hell Tavern and when his eyes – his red eyes – saw her, he paused as if he’d seen a ghost. She too, saw his gaze, and found herself blushing deep shades of crimson. Immediately moved by her beauty, the man removed his guitar and began playing a song to serenade her. She was like a leaf caught in a gentle wind of his words.

It’d been a night, like no other. The moon watched, the stars fell from the skies, the image on the lake shimmered, as the two made wild, passionate love.

By morning, he was gone, and she lay on the sandy beach shore of the lake, alone with the memories. She was not angry or disappointed; she thrived on the memory and the moment she had, and for the first time, felt as if she was alive. Within several months, she realized she was pregnant, and would eventually give birth to her son, Ontogenes.

It had been a year, to the day, that the man with the red eyes who had won her heart for the night, that another stranger came into the Heaven & Hell Tavern. That in and of itself was not unusual since the Tavern was an Inn that hosted many strangers passing through the small town. This stranger was in heavy armor, his symbol on his chest and shield bore the symbol of the goddess of love and hope. He seated himself at a table near the fireplace, and Shiela approached him to ask what he would like to eat or drink, or if he needed a room. However, when he lifted his head, and his white eyes peered from beneath his long blond hair, Shiela’s voice choked in her throat. She could see so much in his eyes, as if they were indeed windows to his soul. She could see the wars he’d fought, how his friends had died around him, and how he, despite his faith, was broken. She was compelled to help him and gave him a room for free, bringing the food and drink to his room. She used her knowledge of magic to mend some of the wounds on his arms and legs which had become infected.

“You’ve done much for me, fair lady,” he whispered. “I have no coin, nothing to pay you with. There must be a way I can work off this debt which I’ve earned.”

Inexplicably, she found herself drawn to him, and in that moment, softly tasted his lips upon hers. Gently he wrapped his arms around her as he leaned back into the bed. Like a prowling lion, she climbed on top of him, and in that moment – that night, he repaid his debt, by granting her a night of uncontrollable passion and love which was knowledge bestowed upon him by his goddess.

When she awoke, she expected him to be gone; but he was not. He sat in a chair in the corner, smiling, and said, “I can not thank you enough for what you’ve done for me; the hospitality, the food, and the love. I have somewhere I must go for now, but I would like to return and see you again.”

She smiled from beneath the sheets and pulled them around her as she stood. “If your road takes you back this way, you will always be welcome here.”

A few short months later, she discovered, yet again, she was pregnant. She gave birth to her second son, Philogenes, a few short months later. Just before going to work at the tavern, she noticed her eldest son, now four years old, had pulled out the ancient tome that was under her bed. She leaned over to pick it up, and noticed it’d been on the last page, that her grandmother had transcribed before dying of natural causes:

“And so, Heaven and Hell shall find love in the same place; and so Heaven and Hell, share bare into this world darkness and light, and so shall the darkness and light, wage a war so terrible that ashes will be all that remains, as the fires of hell burn this world, and the tears of angels quench the flames, for all eternity.”

She looked at her oldest, his red eyes smiling up at her; then looked at her youngest, still in the crib, his glowing white eyes shining like the falling stars of the heavens. She collapsed on the floor. Had the old man fifteen years ago, not been waiting for someone? Had he given this to her as a warning?

She rushed to her grandmother’s chest, and began digging through it until she found the tome of witchcraft. She immediately cast a spell of protection that would protect her children from being dragged into this war between heaven and hell by their potential fathers.

Shiela died at the age of 41, of natural causes; her eldest son 16 years old, the other 15. Both had vanished the night she died; the town believed they’d run away.

However, as the prophecy in the book had mentioned; Heaven and Hell had fallen in love with the same thing; it had been Shiela. However, her spell prevented her eldest son from being dragged to Hell, and her youngest from being dragged into Heaven to fulfill this prophecy. However, what the spell had coincidentally done was make it so that Ontogenes, born of a demon and Shiela was dragged to Heaven instead, while Philogenes, born of an angel and Shiela was dragged to Hell.

During his time in Heaven, Ontogenes was taught about the prophecy – and how they had hoped that this unusual result from his mother’s spell – may be just what it takes to prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. And so, two years later, Ontogenes returned to the Prime Material Plane, and discovered he could sense his brother, Philogenes.

Finding Philogenes, Ontogenes discovered that the demons had taught him to hate his father for abandoning him and allowing him to be dragged to Hell, forgotten. Ontogenes spent weeks trying to convince his father that the demons were manipulating him into trying to fulfill the prophecy that they were destined for… but perhaps there was a way to undo what had been done.

Tawmis - the story of Kage Runar; the Half-Orc Fighter Echo Knight is very interesting.
I haven't had time to read into how this Class works or the Wildemont Lore about them. This gives me an idea on what to look for when I do. I also can't help but wonder what will happen next with Kage. I'm sure the Elf's soul will not be passive in the interrogations..... But that can only be answered by KyleG https://forums.giantitp.com/member.php?176213-KyleG

Personally, I am always curious what comes of these characters I write these backgrounds for. Yes, it's their character - but by forging that background, I often get attached to these characters, and would love to hear what comes of them.

Fin Varra
Male Satyr Warlock
Met and fell in love with a Succubus who ended up falling for him. They were even set to be married. When heaven and hell found out, they drug her away to parts unknown, while heaven condemned him and hell cursed him. Only problem for hell was the entity they got to curse him had never cursed a Fey before, so instead of harming him, it forged a link between them and granted him the powers of a Fiend Warlock without actually making a deal.
Not sure who seduced/charmed/romanced whom, but feel free to make it whomever you think is better/funnier.

Added to the list! Thanks!

[Whit]

Tawmis here is my new character if you have time
Phaemus Songbinder
Dragonborn Male gold
Bard Valor strength Charisma based
Instrument/fire breathing/singing skills
Acrobatics athletics persuasion performance deception

[Tawmis]

Hi Tawmis. This is a character for a campaign in Eberron.

Name: Baki
Class: Arcane Trickster Rogue
Race: Halfling
Gender: Male
Background: Far Traveler
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Character concept: A Halfling from the Talenta Plains who got himself exiled from his tribe. Twice. With his strong personality, he never fit in well among his people. He's a big dreamer that wants to see the world. Despite feeling sad for leaving behind the few friends he had, he decided to leave the plains and go see Breland and the city of Sharn that he once heard fascinating things about. There he got involved with a small band of Halfling thieves, earning enough to survive in the big city without luxury.

Trying to get back into the swing of doing these.
I know nothing about Ebberon so I had to look up the Talenta Plains, Sharn, etc.
Hopefully I captured the information correctly and it fits the character you wanted. Granted you requested this a bit ago, so I am not sure if you still even need this?
Regardless, I enjoyed writing it and discovering Baki's personality from what you provided.
If nothing else, I hope you enjoyed it!
A reply is appreciated, as it keeps the thread alive!
As always, enjoy!
=======================================


“Baki,” his friend placed his hand on Baki’s shoulders. “Surly you must understand why the lath is upset?”

“I understand,” Baki admitted as the young Halfling itched his chin. “But ever since he found that tome in the cave, he’s been acting unusual. And tonight, I got to see what that tome was. It had strange writing on it. Arcane writing.”

“Yes,” Baki’s friend, also a Halfling, named Ellias nodded emphatically. “He’s said that it holds some knowledge about a great power source in the Mournland – and that perhaps, the true cause of the Last War lies in the secret to be uncovered in that tome. He said it would take time to decipher it.”

“That’s just it,” Baki protested, brushing his friend’s hands off of his shoulder. “The lath was in the room, speaking to some kind of misty figure in a language I didn’t understand. I was able to see several pages of the tome before the figure made my presence known to the lath, who then had me arrested. I think there is something afoul here.”

“Baki,” Ellias sighed, “if this had been the first time you had found yourself at odds with the lath, I might be inclined to believe you. But this is the second time now. The first time was Mulina’s wedding.”

“I didn’t think Egeris was good for Mulina, so I spoke up,” Baki shrugged.

“You questioned the lath. You know it’s the lath’s job to bring families together, even if it’s through marriage. Egeris was the leader of the Engazi Tribe. His marriage to Mulina would have brought our two tribes together and created a powerful union. But because of you, and your confessions of your relationship to Mulina before she and Egeris were married destroyed that. You can see why the lath exiled you, that time. But because your parents are good friends of the lath, after several years, they were able to convince him to forgive you and allow you back. And now you do this – go sneaking into the lath’s home, and he accuses you of trying to steal the tome. It’s amazing that he hasn’t left you chained to the Stone of Judgement.”

“He plans to exile me again,” Baki replied to his friend.

“And this time your parents will not be able to undo what you’ve done, Baki,” Ellias sighed and he slumped into the sand dune. “Why must you be so stubborn?”

“There’s so much I want to know,” Baki replied. “So much I would like to see. Have you ever heard of Sharn? It’s said to be one of the most populated cities in the world! Can you imagine? A city! No more wandering, herding, hoping to find water, fighting with other tribes! And Sharn,” Baki extended his arms wide into the night sky, “it was built on a foundation that dates thousands of years before humans ever set foot here. It’s literally layers upon layers, upon layers of city!”

“That sounds horrible,” Ellias admitted. “Why be trapped between walls rather than have this,” now Ellias extended his arms, “all of this freedom, fresh air, you can go anywhere, do anything.”

Baki sighed. “So you won’t come with me?”

“Come with you?” Ellias laughed. “My life is here. My father is old. He needs me to help tend to the herds. I know you, Baki. If you are exiled, you will do quite all right. You always have.” Ellias stopped and looked at Baki, seeing an all too familiar expression. “That look. You’re looking for trouble.”

“I have nothing to lose,” Baki said suddenly. “He plans to exile me. What have I got to lose?”

“What are you going on about?” Ellias asked, sitting up.

Baki placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I will miss you most of all, my friend.” And with that quickly ran over the dune towards the oasis that the tribe had settled at.

It was less than ten minutes later, Ellias heard the lath yelling for guards. He was on his feet, struggling to climb the dune, muttering, “Baki, what have you done…”

And with the moon watching in the night sky, Ellias saw Baki riding on a claw-foot as quickly as possible out of town, and he knew immediately that Baki had returned to steal the tome and learn what it was.

For weeks, Baki traveled the desert – one he was quite familiar with, knowing where each oasis was, and during that time he thumbed through the ancient tome, and studied the arcane language scribbled inside. The more he did so, the more he found, he was able to slowly begin to manipulate magic himself.

It had been nearly three months, but the city of Sharn finally came into view, and it was just as glorious as he had imagined it to be. He released the claw-foot which would make its way back to the tribe, trained to always do so. Inside the city, he met other halflings – some, like himself – from the Talenta Plains, and through them, learned how to live on the profit of others. All the while, he kept the ancient tome a secret, and always at his side.

Tawmis here is my new character if you have time
Phaemus Songbinder
Dragonborn Male gold
Bard Valor strength Charisma based
Instrument/fire breathing/singing skills
Acrobatics athletics persuasion performance deception

Consider it added!

[togapika]

Added to the list! Thanks!

Forgot to mention that her name is Kay'Linn, and they met because she was working for a more powerful devil and he sent her to try and offer Fin a deal for fame and a music career. Fin was fine with his music trajectory, and said no, but was intrigued by her and asked her for a date. After she figured out he wasn't just looking to bone her, she accepted, partly due to finding the whole idea funny, and partly for a 2nd chance to close the deal for her boss.

[Tawmis]

Name: Cassius Twilight-Might
Age:
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Cassius is a sage Fiendlock Level five (Chain pact boon)
Personality Traits: I’ve read every book in the world’s greatest libraries—or I like to boast that I have.
Ideals: No Limits. Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence. (Chaotic)
Bonds: I have an ancient text that holds terrible secrets that must not fall into the wrong hands.
Flaws: Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.

This was fun to write - and easy, one I determined I'd use Belaros. Belaros is a (Pit Demon, essentially) from my campaign world - that I've used quite a bit in this thread, to explain he's traveling through planes collecting pieces of souls for some grand mission! Your DM can use him (if they so please, or change it to another demon) - I also love leaving doors open for the DM. Will you encounter your father later? Learn some truth about him? What about your mother and sister? What will their fate be? Plenty for the DM to tinker with.

Anyway, hope you enjoy - would love feedback as it keeps the thread bumped and alive!
========


My family was poor, and I grew up living out of improvised shelters that my mother called “home.” My father was someone I never knew – my mother told me stories of how he had died in some great battle, but as I grew older, I began to suspect he simply left my mother, myself and my sister to our own fates. By the age of nine, an older gentleman had seen me pandering for food on the side and offered me a position at the Great Library sorting books. He said he would pay me both in food and education, and he did. He provided me enough so that I could share with my mother and sister, and patiently educated me on learning how to read.

He was patient with me, and has no fear in my learning too much, since I had no education before him. He told me how to read the letters, the order they’re in; the numbers, and the order they’re in, so that I could properly put the books in the correct order, on the correct shelves, in the correct rows, based on the numbering on the spines of the book – a system developed by an ancient wizard named Mel Vilduey.

However, one night, as I was putting the books away – a smaller book slide out from the center pages, as if it had been a bookmark. I checked the spine and saw no code on the back, for which I would normally simply have put it in its proper spot. I pocketed the book with the intention of asking Jern Storecloud, who had been graciously teaching me. However, the night escaped me and I took this book back with me – by this time, I had earned enough to also pay for a small, one bedroom inn that I shared with my mother and sister. My mother and sister slept on the small, uncomfortable bed, while I slept on the wooden floor. It wasn’t much – but it was paradise compared to what we used to live like.

When I opened the book, it seemed to hiss – but I assumed that was just old pages breathing life. The words on the pages were written in unusual symbols – like nothing I’d seen before, and certainly nothing Jern had ever taught me. However, as I turned the pages – the symbols swam on the pages, changing and churning – and rather than reading them, I could hear a voice inside my head – a voice who introduced himself as Belaros. He explained he saw great potential in me, and that I rose up from nothing to finding this ancient text – a piece of my own destiny. However, this Belaros had been trapped by evil wizards, long ago – and needed an anchor back to the world – and that if I agreed to be his anchor he could provide great power to me – but I would have to prove myself to him. He said with my power would come money to provide for my sister and mother.

With that, I accepted. He explained he would send a piece of himself to me – to be by my side – and that came in the form of a creature he called a Quasit. He explained that – when needed, so it would not arise suspicions – it could take the form of a bat, centipede or a toad – but that I was to protect it.

With that – came his knowledge as he opened my mind to the world – and suddenly I could read. As I filed the books away, I would read them as quickly as possible – but something told me to never tell Jern – never tell anyone – about what had happened – this connection with this being named Belaros. I kept the book that granted me this power close to me.

As I grew older, and I kept my familiar safe – but there was something interesting about releasing him and seeing people’s reactions to him. Why had they feared such a small, demonic creature? Why do people fear so many small things – mice, spiders, and other such beasts which could technically easily be killed, with minimal effort.

As the wagon creaked, I waved farewell to my mother and sister. I would go on to find adventure and send money to them to ensure they were always taken care of.

After all, that’s what Belaros promised.



----

Forgot to mention that her name is Kay'Linn, and they met because she was working for a more powerful devil and he sent her to try and offer Fin a deal for fame and a music career. Fin was fine with his music trajectory, and said no, but was intrigued by her and asked her for a date. After she figured out he wasn't just looking to bone her, she accepted, partly due to finding the whole idea funny, and partly for a 2nd chance to close the deal for her boss.

Added to the notes! :)

[xanxosttheslaad]

Here's my current character idea; I look forward to seeing what you come up with to fill in the gaps. Sorry if it's a lot - feel free to focus in on whichever part you think would be the most fun to write about!
Name: Isoba of Neverwinter
Gender: Male
Class: Celestial Warlock
Age: 82
Alignment: LG
Race: Scourge Aasimar (reflavored)
Background: Guild Artisan (Cobbler)
Isoba grew up in a poorer part of Neverwinter, with his mother, a half-orc cobbler, and his father, a Turami human bard. His brother would go on adventures with his father, and eventually grew up to join the city guard. Isoba's mother helped him get an apprenticeship, where he learned to cobble, taking over his mother's workshop. When not working on his trade, he would go on walks and appreciate nature and the city, and was well liked by children, animals, and his customers. On one of these walks, he ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was mistaken (accidentally?) for a notorious murderer. Mount Hotenow erupted while he was awaiting his sentencing, and with the prison in Neverwinter no longer able to hold him, he was sentenced to penal labor, and worked the next fifty years in a private dungeon under a Waterdeep noble's manor. These years he waited out patiently, accepting his apparent fate of dying in prison, but also using his craft to help others, sending meager wages away to pay guild fees and support his home city's reconstruction. I imagine he also would have made and lost several friends, maybe fallen in love or had a child, during his lengthy imprisonment. Near the end of his sentence, he was getting old, and had fallen ill, until a sudden emergency (probably someone's sudden injury or illness) prompted him to call for supernatural aid. His prayer was answered by an entity he came to know as Xag-Ya, an alien being from the positive energy plane, who infused his body with the healing magic of that plane (this gift of light is also represented by his racial abilities). This also doubled his lifespan, allowing him to finish his sentence, and venture forth into the world, where he seeks to find his younger brother, use his gift to help the world, and act as an interplanar tour guide for Xag-Ya (their demand in exchange for the granted power, as Xag-Ya has great interest in life in the material plane), who accompanies him in the form of a white spider sitting on his shoulder (Chain Pact).
Also, he sometimes wears a wooden spider mask, painted white, to set himself apart from others, and thereby avoid being punished again for the crimes of others based on his appearance.

[Tawmis]

My apologies, my wife's health has been an issue. So there's been a definite delay on my ability to get to these.

Name: Drake Flint
Race: Human
Class: ranger 1 will be taking gloom stalker
Alignment: lawful neutral
Background:urban bounty hunter

Ideal: I don't steal from others in the trade
Flaw: I am inflexible in my thinking
Not sure what Personality Trait or bond to take.

My concept is I was a henchmen for the bad guy and I been thinking about 2 different ways
1) My parents were tenant farmers and my choices were become a tenant farmer, bandit or priest. I joined out of desperation but I felt they were going too far. They didn't become bandits out of desperation they were greedy bullies. I started to see them as being partly to blame for my family being so poor as they would steal from the poor
2) I was working for a corrupt official, a sheriff of Nottingham type and after seeing how corrupt he is I switched sides

In either case I see something bad that happened which caused me to turn against them and on some level I knew what I was doing was wrong. I seek to redeem myself for what I did

So... I decided why not mix both ideas and come up with something.
This was fun to write.
Also gives your DM some potential villains for your characters/campaigns.
As always, hope you enjoy and would love feedback in the thread.
It keeps it bumped and live, so it really helps!
===================================

Some of my earliest memories were of my father, worked to the bone, coming into the small shed we’d been provided as farming tenants. He would collapse in the small chair and heave a deep sigh that came from deep within; and each time he did, it always sounded like his final breath. Most nights, he would simply fall asleep in the chair and my mother would retreat to the small mat on the floor, alone, weeping.

I remember the years growing up – swearing I would not be someone’s slave – I would be something more. This harvested a dark attitude that earned me a reputation for starting fights – and it was all true. I didn’t allow anyone to talk down at me, despite being poor, despite coming from a family with nothing; I always stood up for myself.

This reputation carried with me as I grew into a young, rebellious teenager. This eventually caught the attention of Marius Hillstorm. She, like myself, was a woman with a reputation for never backing down – whether it was man, woman, or child that she had a problem with. She stared down and fought humans, half-orcs, and rumor had it – a minotaur, once. She had several scars on her face and arm, and when she moved right – you could see some on her abdomen too, making it easy to believe the stories.

She approached me and told me about how she had wanted to see if what she’d heard about me was true. Some need in me wanted to show her that everything she’d heard and more – was indeed true.

“I have a task you might be interested in,” Marius said, her green eyes flashing as her amber hair blew gently in the wind. “I’ve heard you grew up from a family with nothing and had a father that worked himself to death, and how your mother was forced to marry another man that she did not love, or lose the roof over her head.”

My arms folded in front of my chest, I nodded, “You heard right. What of it?”

“The right have long held us down, their foot on our necks. It’s time we take back what we’ve worked for but were never paid. I have several men who will be ambushing a Senator’s wagon tonight. If you’d like to accompany them – prove your worth to me – I can bring you in and give you part of the take.”

I agreed – and the night had gone perfect – we surrounded the wagon – crossbows out – demanded the chest in the wagon – Karak, a half orc mounted on a horse rode off with it – the rest of us retreated into the shadows. For it, I was given 37 gold – which is more than I’d ever held in my hand. Marius officially introduced me and inducted me into ‘The Black Razors’ that night.

For weeks, we successfully pulled off robbery after robbery – even when guards were accompanying them – typically an arrow to the leg was enough to convince them to stop and surrender. There’d only been one time that things turned violent.

One night, I’d observed Marius holding back on the drinking during another successful celebration; so I stopped drinking as well. Something tonight seemed different in how she was acting. Her pose seemed much stiffer as she leaned against the post – as if watching and waiting for her team of brigands to become drunk. I began to feign intoxication, but never took my eye off of her. When she believed that her crew was too drunk to notice, she slipped out the back of the cave, which was also unusual – we only used that as an emergency exit, because the door on the other side was hidden and we feared someone spotting us leaving from there. I followed her to the back, sticking to the shadows as she slid out the door and proceeded to light a fire. She climbed on a wagon pulled horse and quickly rode off. With no other choice I burst through the fiery door and ran towards another horse – when I noticed an entire battalion of city guards riding towards the front of the cave. I stared after her and stared back at the fiery door and cursed.

Sliding off the horse, I jumped through the fiery door again to warn the others of the city guards – but most of the city guard had arrived and were either arresting or killing members of the Black Razors even as they slept! We had been played. Leaping through the fiery door, yet again, I jumped back on the horse and pushed it to catch up to Marius Hillstorm – easily catching up since he horse was pulling a wagon – I maintained some distance. I watched as she pulled into a small lake front area and jumped off the horse. She paced back and forth, until another figure – human – approached. They hugged, cheered and embraced on another. The human was older – and it took a moment, but I recognized him.

Sheriff Hillsky.

And suddenly it became real – he had amber hair and green eyes.

He was her father.

He was her father!

This had all been a set up for her to hire mercenaries, gather gold, take a larger share – and share it with her father.

It was only three months later, when I heard the news of “Marius Hillstorm, who barely escaped with her life, against the City Guard, was looking for men and women to recruit to strike back…”

She was going to do the same thing again.

Ok, how about this? I’m looking for an expanded story on a kenku paladin. Brief story is he was observing the initiation of a paladin into his order, he started mimicking the ceremony, and found himself unwittingly initiated into the order.
He’ll obviously be a very strange paladin.

This one was a bit of a "cheat" - if you will. In one of my games, I am playing a Level 9 Rogue Kenku - whose origin is very similar to this.
However, as I copied and pasted your request into WORD to begin writing it - I realized, with a tweak to the end - the origin of my Kenku could EASILY become that of a Paladin.
So with a tweak of the character's name (you never mentioned one so I called him "Karik") - your character became a member of my own Kenku's "flock."
Left some doors open for your DM (in regards to tracking down a demon and such)... anyway, hope you enjoy it!
I'd love feedback or comments!
---------------------------------------------------

Karik’s life drastically changed when he followed the words of their Chief – whom they’d dubbed ‘The Caller.’ The Caller had spent weeks, as a minion to an old, human wizard named Rylius. ‘The Caller’ using expert Kenku ability to forge, had been copying the wizard’s tomes, and storing them for himself. He often tricked the Wizard into speaking a few words to spell components, by pointing at them and shrugging.

What Rylius was unaware of, was that ‘The Caller’ had found and copied one of the wizard’s tomes on Demonology. Within the book, ‘The Caller’ found a spell to summon a demon named Rano Kau, that bore a striking resemblance to the Kenku; except Rano Kau still had his wings. Believing that Rano Kau would sympathize with the Kenku of ‘The Black Talon’, ‘The Caller’ used the words he had tricked Rylius into speaking and summoned Rano Kau forth.

Rano Kau told ‘The Caller’ that he could indeed restore his flock with the ability to fly once more; but in order to do so the flock would need to recover six stones for the demon. Blinded by the desire to have their wings restored, all of the members of ‘The Black Talon’ traveled around the world, doing whatever it took to steal the six desired stones.

When all six had been gathered, they summoned Rano Kau once more and presented the six stones to the demon. The demon laughed, and took the stones, and said, “A promise was made, that I would restore your flight, so you might visit the heavens again.” And with that, the demon cast a spell that sent the members of ‘The Black Talon’ soaring into the air; then, when they reached the clouds, ceased the magical spell that lifted them. Without their wings, the flock of the ‘The Black Talon’ plunged towards the Earth. Karik knew then, that the demon had kept his words – he never said he would restore their wings; only that he would allow them to fly once more to touch the heavens…

Karik crashed into towering trees, snapping branches as he plummeted to the ground below. How he had survived, he did not know. But all of his flock was around him, and not a single one survived. Karik was furious that he and his flock had been so easily manipulated and betrayed. But in that moment of being a lone survivor, Karik wondered had there been a reason?

He wandered aimlessly for days, without a flock, without a purpose, until in the city of Aventine, he bore witness to a Paladin Initiation Ceremony – and subconsciously muttered the words and mimicked the movements throughout the entire ceremony – and to his surprise, when he was done, he felt his body surge with positive energy and the presence of a god coursing through his veins.

Karik now wondered – had the god been the reason he survived? To lead him here? To perhaps one day hunt down the demon Rano Kau and destroy him for the manipulation and murder of his flock?

Here's my current character idea; I look forward to seeing what you come up with to fill in the gaps. Sorry if it's a lot - feel free to focus in on whichever part you think would be the most fun to write about!
Name: Isoba of Neverwinter
Gender: Male
Class: Celestial Warlock
Age: 82
Alignment: LG
Race: Scourge Aasimar (reflavored)
Background: Guild Artisan (Cobbler)
Isoba grew up in a poorer part of Neverwinter, with his mother, a half-orc cobbler, and his father, a Turami human bard. His brother would go on adventures with his father, and eventually grew up to join the city guard. Isoba's mother helped him get an apprenticeship, where he learned to cobble, taking over his mother's workshop. When not working on his trade, he would go on walks and appreciate nature and the city, and was well liked by children, animals, and his customers. On one of these walks, he ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was mistaken (accidentally?) for a notorious murderer. Mount Hotenow erupted while he was awaiting his sentencing, and with the prison in Neverwinter no longer able to hold him, he was sentenced to penal labor, and worked the next fifty years in a private dungeon under a Waterdeep noble's manor. These years he waited out patiently, accepting his apparent fate of dying in prison, but also using his craft to help others, sending meager wages away to pay guild fees and support his home city's reconstruction. I imagine he also would have made and lost several friends, maybe fallen in love or had a child, during his lengthy imprisonment. Near the end of his sentence, he was getting old, and had fallen ill, until a sudden emergency (probably someone's sudden injury or illness) prompted him to call for supernatural aid. His prayer was answered by an entity he came to know as Xag-Ya, an alien being from the positive energy plane, who infused his body with the healing magic of that plane (this gift of light is also represented by his racial abilities). This also doubled his lifespan, allowing him to finish his sentence, and venture forth into the world, where he seeks to find his younger brother, use his gift to help the world, and act as an interplanar tour guide for Xag-Ya (their demand in exchange for the granted power, as Xag-Ya has great interest in life in the material plane), who accompanies him in the form of a white spider sitting on his shoulder (Chain Pact).
Also, he sometimes wears a wooden spider mask, painted white, to set himself apart from others, and thereby avoid being punished again for the crimes of others based on his appearance.

Added

[Klorox]

My apologies, my wife's health has been an issue. So there's been a definite delay on my ability to get to these.



So... I decided why not mix both ideas and come up with something.
This was fun to write.
Also gives your DM some potential villains for your characters/campaigns.
As always, hope you enjoy and would love feedback in the thread.
It keeps it bumped and live, so it really helps!
===================================

Some of my earliest memories were of my father, worked to the bone, coming into the small shed we’d been provided as farming tenants. He would collapse in the small chair and heave a deep sigh that came from deep within; and each time he did, it always sounded like his final breath. Most nights, he would simply fall asleep in the chair and my mother would retreat to the small mat on the floor, alone, weeping.

I remember the years growing up – swearing I would not be someone’s slave – I would be something more. This harvested a dark attitude that earned me a reputation for starting fights – and it was all true. I didn’t allow anyone to talk down at me, despite being poor, despite coming from a family with nothing; I always stood up for myself.

This reputation carried with me as I grew into a young, rebellious teenager. This eventually caught the attention of Marius Hillstorm. She, like myself, was a woman with a reputation for never backing down – whether it was man, woman, or child that she had a problem with. She stared down and fought humans, half-orcs, and rumor had it – a minotaur, once. She had several scars on her face and arm, and when she moved right – you could see some on her abdomen too, making it easy to believe the stories.

She approached me and told me about how she had wanted to see if what she’d heard about me was true. Some need in me wanted to show her that everything she’d heard and more – was indeed true.

“I have a task you might be interested in,” Marius said, her green eyes flashing as her amber hair blew gently in the wind. “I’ve heard you grew up from a family with nothing and had a father that worked himself to death, and how your mother was forced to marry another man that she did not love, or lose the roof over her head.”

My arms folded in front of my chest, I nodded, “You heard right. What of it?”

“The right have long held us down, their foot on our necks. It’s time we take back what we’ve worked for but were never paid. I have several men who will be ambushing a Senator’s wagon tonight. If you’d like to accompany them – prove your worth to me – I can bring you in and give you part of the take.”

I agreed – and the night had gone perfect – we surrounded the wagon – crossbows out – demanded the chest in the wagon – Karak, a half orc mounted on a horse rode off with it – the rest of us retreated into the shadows. For it, I was given 37 gold – which is more than I’d ever held in my hand. Marius officially introduced me and inducted me into ‘The Black Razors’ that night.

For weeks, we successfully pulled off robbery after robbery – even when guards were accompanying them – typically an arrow to the leg was enough to convince them to stop and surrender. There’d only been one time that things turned violent.

One night, I’d observed Marius holding back on the drinking during another successful celebration; so I stopped drinking as well. Something tonight seemed different in how she was acting. Her pose seemed much stiffer as she leaned against the post – as if watching and waiting for her team of brigands to become drunk. I began to feign intoxication, but never took my eye off of her. When she believed that her crew was too drunk to notice, she slipped out the back of the cave, which was also unusual – we only used that as an emergency exit, because the door on the other side was hidden and we feared someone spotting us leaving from there. I followed her to the back, sticking to the shadows as she slid out the door and proceeded to light a fire. She climbed on a wagon pulled horse and quickly rode off. With no other choice I burst through the fiery door and ran towards another horse – when I noticed an entire battalion of city guards riding towards the front of the cave. I stared after her and stared back at the fiery door and cursed.

Sliding off the horse, I jumped through the fiery door again to warn the others of the city guards – but most of the city guard had arrived and were either arresting or killing members of the Black Razors even as they slept! We had been played. Leaping through the fiery door, yet again, I jumped back on the horse and pushed it to catch up to Marius Hillstorm – easily catching up since he horse was pulling a wagon – I maintained some distance. I watched as she pulled into a small lake front area and jumped off the horse. She paced back and forth, until another figure – human – approached. They hugged, cheered and embraced on another. The human was older – and it took a moment, but I recognized him.

Sheriff Hillsky.

And suddenly it became real – he had amber hair and green eyes.

He was her father.

He was her father!

This had all been a set up for her to hire mercenaries, gather gold, take a larger share – and share it with her father.

It was only three months later, when I heard the news of “Marius Hillstorm, who barely escaped with her life, against the City Guard, was looking for men and women to recruit to strike back…”

She was going to do the same thing again.




This one was a bit of a "cheat" - if you will. In one of my games, I am playing a Level 9 Rogue Kenku - whose origin is very similar to this.
However, as I copied and pasted your request into WORD to begin writing it - I realized, with a tweak to the end - the origin of my Kenku could EASILY become that of a Paladin.
So with a tweak of the character's name (you never mentioned one so I called him "Karik") - your character became a member of my own Kenku's "flock."
Left some doors open for your DM (in regards to tracking down a demon and such)... anyway, hope you enjoy it!
I'd love feedback or comments!
---------------------------------------------------

Karik’s life drastically changed when he followed the words of their Chief – whom they’d dubbed ‘The Caller.’ The Caller had spent weeks, as a minion to an old, human wizard named Rylius. ‘The Caller’ using expert Kenku ability to forge, had been copying the wizard’s tomes, and storing them for himself. He often tricked the Wizard into speaking a few words to spell components, by pointing at them and shrugging.

What Rylius was unaware of, was that ‘The Caller’ had found and copied one of the wizard’s tomes on Demonology. Within the book, ‘The Caller’ found a spell to summon a demon named Rano Kau, that bore a striking resemblance to the Kenku; except Rano Kau still had his wings. Believing that Rano Kau would sympathize with the Kenku of ‘The Black Talon’, ‘The Caller’ used the words he had tricked Rylius into speaking and summoned Rano Kau forth.

Rano Kau told ‘The Caller’ that he could indeed restore his flock with the ability to fly once more; but in order to do so the flock would need to recover six stones for the demon. Blinded by the desire to have their wings restored, all of the members of ‘The Black Talon’ traveled around the world, doing whatever it took to steal the six desired stones.

When all six had been gathered, they summoned Rano Kau once more and presented the six stones to the demon. The demon laughed, and took the stones, and said, “A promise was made, that I would restore your flight, so you might visit the heavens again.” And with that, the demon cast a spell that sent the members of ‘The Black Talon’ soaring into the air; then, when they reached the clouds, ceased the magical spell that lifted them. Without their wings, the flock of the ‘The Black Talon’ plunged towards the Earth. Karik knew then, that the demon had kept his words – he never said he would restore their wings; only that he would allow them to fly once more to touch the heavens…

Karik crashed into towering trees, snapping branches as he plummeted to the ground below. How he had survived, he did not know. But all of his flock was around him, and not a single one survived. Karik was furious that he and his flock had been so easily manipulated and betrayed. But in that moment of being a lone survivor, Karik wondered had there been a reason?

He wandered aimlessly for days, without a flock, without a purpose, until in the city of Aventine, he bore witness to a Paladin Initiation Ceremony – and subconsciously muttered the words and mimicked the movements throughout the entire ceremony – and to his surprise, when he was done, he felt his body surge with positive energy and the presence of a god coursing through his veins.

Karik now wondered – had the god been the reason he survived? To lead him here? To perhaps one day hunt down the demon Rano Kau and destroy him for the manipulation and murder of his flock?







Added

Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Thank you!!!

[Qendal]

I am currently running some polls to decide my character but once its done I’d love for you to write a background

[WadeWay33]

I’d just like to say that I’ve been able to use every single background that you’ve written for me! They’ve been great to give DM’s who work with them, and are just overall always compelling to read! Thank you!

[KyleG]

Slightly different challenge If you are interested...Im currently playing a warforged monk and I have a gap in his history.
1.Basically he gets deposited on this world practically brand new (as far as fully awakened). His only task...observe. there is other history prior to this but I have it covered.
2. Becomes a runner/messenger
3.goes on to join party for reasons.

Its really that history of 2 I'm after. How does a creature (not exactly charismatic) not seen in this world integrate themselves, at least to a useful extent? (he is fully aware, senses, while resting....could be the angle???) Translate that into a "career" and learn some monk skills.

The monk skills are perhaps an act of copying someone he sees in a town he frequents, he isn't going to be comfortable staying put for long. Or perhaps he joins a caravan and trains along the journey.

[Goldlizard]

Hey! It's me again, I have one for you:

this is a LN Golaith Pugilist (look it up if you don't know) who follows the Dog & Hound school, he has a companion Dire Wolf (This is a high-tier game). He is around 70, nearing the end of his life as an adventurer, and currently lives in a retirement home (but occasionally sneaks off to help his former party's children). I only know a few things about him:
He at one time dodged a draft by joining a monestary
Learned Brawling from his best Friend, who died adveturing
and got his name (Bearkiller) by wrestling a Bear to save his companion, Greytooth

Thank you!