Need a character background written up?

[Maxiboy]

(Hey, Tawmis! I made a request earlier asking for this but not knowing when my game was going to start, I thought I'd delete my post and ask again at a later date... The forums said you were offline for some time so I wasn't aware you saw my request and were intending to respond to it as you said in your message, nonetheless I look forward to hearing your idea! I apologize for the confusion.)

I would like to request a backstory for an adventurous bard with the College of Valor subclass! I'd like an animalistic race, such as the tabaxi or aarakocra, etc, who has been called to action to help a local village from being recently raided by bandits. I don't have too much to ask for other than you to surprise me, you haven't failed me with a good story so I'm sure you can fill in the blanks! Thanks again!

[Tawmis]

(Hey, Tawmis! I made a request earlier asking for this but not knowing when my game was going to start, I thought I'd delete my post and ask again at a later date... The forums said you were offline for some time so I wasn't aware you saw my request and were intending to respond to it as you said in your message, nonetheless I look forward to hearing your idea! I apologize for the confusion.)

I would like to request a backstory for an adventurous bard with the College of Valor subclass! I'd like an animalistic race, such as the tabaxi or aarakocra, etc, who has been called to action to help a local village from being recently raided by bandits. I don't have too much to ask for other than you to surprise me, you haven't failed me with a good story so I'm sure you can fill in the blanks! Thanks again!

Hah! Still have your original quoted text in my word doc...

Hey there again, Tawmis! Could you help me once again create a backstory?
My new group I play with needs some support in the mix and I was thinking of playing a bard for the first time... However, I'm known for liking to deal my fair share of damage with past characters, so I'm thinking of going with the battle-focused and heroic-sounding College of Valor. The campaign starts off at a local village that has been raided overnight, and its guards are calling for us adventurers to investigate and hunt down the culprits... All I ask is for you to stick with an animalistic race (like the tabaxi or aarakocra), maybe that'll even help spark an idea. I know this isn't much to go off of, but I encourage you to get creative and fill in the blanks... Let me know if you need any more suggestions, I look forward to seeing what you think up this time!

Some fun notes...
You made no mention of a name, so I named him Tahlewse (which, naturally, you're free to change)...
One might think I am a fan of France, or the painter/artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec... both incorrect. (I have nothing against either, to be clear!)
If you were to say, "Ah ha. Are you a fan of that old Disney cartoon - Aristocats?" I'd then say yes.
For my orange tabby, Toulouse, was named after the orange tabby in the cartoon (which in turn, was named after the painter).
Toulouse was an amazing cat who lived for 17 years, and absolutely LOVED everyone.
So the idea of writing a Tabaxi, I couldn't resist giving a nod to my cat who is no longer with us.
He also has a bit of "Puss'n'Boots" attitude; probably because my Toulouse was an orange tabby, and so I could envision a bit of Puss'n'Boots as I was writing this.
Anyway, again, change whatever is needed! But hope the core of it works!
As always, would love feedback - it helps me and keeps the thread bumped and alive!
Enjoy!
========================

Tahlewse was a tabaxi bard who was quickly earning quite the reputation. As he strolled into the tavern, an air of confidence swirling around him like a hurricane, he leapt onto a table and strummed the strings of the guitar which he normally kept strapped to his back. “I,” he said, his feline features revealing a smile that looked like a predatory cat who had just corned a mouse, “am going to introduce myself, but it shall not be long before you will soon sing my name alongside the praises of the greatest heroes you’ve ever heard of!”

“My name,” a quick strum of the guitar which captured the attention of the last few people who were not already looking at him, “is Tahlewse – and I have done many great deeds already! Though, until recently, I kept my true identity hidden.” He strummed the guitar loudly, “For you see, when one becomes too popular, one gains many enemies – enemies whose hearts,” the strumming slowed down, became dark and cold, “are filled with jealousy and greed. And now, that fame has followed me, like a murderous shadow – lurking behind me. No matter how fast I run I cannot escape my shadow – except,” he paused, and the crowd leaned forward. He strummed the guitar ever so lightly, “in the darkness of night.”

In truth, the Tabaxi named Tahlewse had just fled from a nearby town due to – in his mind – incorrectly being accused of lifting some gold from one of the drunken patrons who’d been enjoying his show. While he didn’t care for the idea himself of pickpocketing, it was another matter entirely, if he’d just spent the entire night weaving wonderful tales and playing incredible music, and a patron is too drunk to tip him. This is how he made his living after all, telling stories and playing music! Why should someone be able to listen to it all for free and claim they were “too drunk to tip.” Unfortunately the drunk patron had a not so drunk friend who’d seen it all and called out Tahlewse’s behavior.

However, that was last week. Tonight, tonight is what mattered and Tahlewse had the people of this small village eating out of his hand as he played music and told fantastic stories of fantastic adventures – most of them very similar to legends of yesteryear that somehow, Tahlewse, had injected himself into and changed ever so slightly as if to make it sound as if it only happened thirty moons ago. During his performance he heard louds sounds coming from around but thought nothing more of it.

That was until the tavern’s doors suddenly burst open, and a town guard stumbled inside, bleeding profusely and choked, “The village has just been attacked… we are need of heroes…”

Everyone turned towards Tahlewse expectantly. “Son of a…” he muttered, as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and rushed towards the guard.

Heeeey, I'm back :D

Name: Zalminar
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Shaman - Wild Heart (Also a Laserllama Class)
Background - Hermit

Will definitely get to writing this next!

That is awesome and exactly what I wanted thank you so much

So glad you liked it!

[JNAProductions]

So, here's a bit of a challenge for ya, Tawmis. I did some musings, which I will repost here...

Spoiler: Musings!

Show

So, general idea:

Humanity reaches the stars, finds out they're not alone, but there's a key difference between humankind and other species.

Every other race has some level of hivemind or empathic resonance. Violence, while not entirely unknown, is incredibly rare, because if you commit a violent act on another member of your species, you feel it too. Or, for some species, they're literally only a small number of true consciousnesses, spread across many bodies.

The gist is that, because these other races work together so much better than humankind does, they didn't wipe one another out, and worked together. Humanity was viewed, before achieving galactic relevance, as one of many species doomed to failure, wiping themselves out as they grew smarter. But humankind got lucky, and started colonizing other planets. In order to prevent humans from spreading like violent, violent rabbits, other species reached out and made contact, inviting humans to galactic civilization.

That's about all I got so far.

---

Link to thread.

And I want to hear some thoughts on potential character backstories for species from the middle range of aliens. Characters you could see going on adventures and partying up with humans, but to whom violence (especially against sentient beings!) is basically unheard of, and who have massive rapport with their own kind, and possibly limited empath abilities with other species.

If you need/want more details, check in with me in about half a day-I'll be asleep soon, but I'd love to see what kind of things you can come up with.

[Maxiboy]

Tahlewse was a tabaxi bard who was quickly earning quite the reputation. As he strolled into the tavern, an air of confidence swirling around him like a hurricane, he leapt onto a table and strummed the strings of the guitar which he normally kept strapped to his back. “I,” he said, his feline features revealing a smile that looked like a predatory cat who had just corned a mouse, “am going to introduce myself, but it shall not be long before you will soon sing my name alongside the praises of the greatest heroes you’ve ever heard of!”

“My name,” a quick strum of the guitar which captured the attention of the last few people who were not already looking at him, “is Tahlewse – and I have done many great deeds already! Though, until recently, I kept my true identity hidden.” He strummed the guitar loudly, “For you see, when one becomes too popular, one gains many enemies – enemies whose hearts,” the strumming slowed down, became dark and cold, “are filled with jealousy and greed. And now, that fame has followed me, like a murderous shadow – lurking behind me. No matter how fast I run I cannot escape my shadow – except,” he paused, and the crowd leaned forward. He strummed the guitar ever so lightly, “in the darkness of night.”

In truth, the Tabaxi named Tahlewse had just fled from a nearby town due to – in his mind – incorrectly being accused of lifting some gold from one of the drunken patrons who’d been enjoying his show. While he didn’t care for the idea himself of pickpocketing, it was another matter entirely, if he’d just spent the entire night weaving wonderful tales and playing incredible music, and a patron is too drunk to tip him. This is how he made his living after all, telling stories and playing music! Why should someone be able to listen to it all for free and claim they were “too drunk to tip.” Unfortunately the drunk patron had a not so drunk friend who’d seen it all and called out Tahlewse’s behavior.

However, that was last week. Tonight, tonight is what mattered and Tahlewse had the people of this small village eating out of his hand as he played music and told fantastic stories of fantastic adventures – most of them very similar to legends of yesteryear that somehow, Tahlewse, had injected himself into and changed ever so slightly as if to make it sound as if it only happened thirty moons ago. During his performance he heard louds sounds coming from around but thought nothing more of it.

That was until the tavern’s doors suddenly burst open, and a town guard stumbled inside, bleeding profusely and choked, “The village has just been attacked… we are need of heroes…”

Everyone turned towards Tahlewse expectantly. “Son of a…” he muttered, as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and rushed towards the guard.

This is beautiful Tawmis, I love this a lot, quite simple but full of charm and personality! Tahlewse is a great name and I'm very flattered to have my character based on your lovely cat, I promise to cherish this character all the same and create many memories to come. The Puss'n'Boots inspiration is solid and I fully jam with it too! Thank you so much for this, I'm excited to see more of your stories.

[Dimples786]

Hey I need a another backstory please

Name is pitch a aarakocra ranger

Eyes are black

Height 7'6"

Weight 90

Skin is black feathers

Background haunted one

Feature heart of darkness

Those who look into your eyes can see that you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness though they might fear you commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them they will even take up arms to fight alongside you should you find yourself facing an enemy alone.

Personally Traits
I don't run from evil evil runs from me
I live for the thrill of the hunt

Ideals
I'll stop the spirits that haunt me or die trying


Bonds.
There's evil in me I can feel it it must never be set free

Flaws
I talk to spirits that no one else can see


I am a beastmaster ranger but leave the companion open

please and thank you for your help

[Dimples786]

Hey I need a another backstory please

Name is pitch a aarakocra ranger

Eyes are black

Height 7'6"

Weight 90

Skin is black feathers

Background haunted one

Feature heart of darkness

Those who look into your eyes can see that you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness though they might fear you commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them they will even take up arms to fight alongside you should you find yourself facing an enemy alone.

Personally Traits
I don't run from evil evil runs from me
I live for the thrill of the hunt

Ideals
I'll stop the spirits that haunt me or die trying


Bonds.
There's evil in me I can feel it it must never be set free

Flaws
I talk to spirits that no one else can see


I am a beastmaster ranger but leave the companion open

please and thank you for your help

I know you are busy but I kinda need it soon

[Tawmis]

Heeeey, I'm back :D
Name: Zalminar
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Shaman - Wild Heart (Also a Laserllama Class)
Background - Hermit
Characteristics
Personality Traits - I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings.
Ideals - Self-Knowledge. If you know yourself, there's nothing left to know. (Any)
Bonds - Nothing is more important than the my furry friends in the forest
Flaws - I harbor dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation and meditation failed to quell.
Details about the Class
Ancient Power
Before the gods took notice of mortals and bestowed power on Clerics and Paladins, Shamans served as protectors and guides. Using ancient techniques, Shamans were able to bind spirits to Totems, small objects of spiritual significance, and channel that power for the good of their people. This ancient art was passed from elder to elder in a continuous chain, down to the Shamans of today. Those who master the powers of shamanism are part of a truly ancient spiritual tradition.
Spiritual Existence
Shamans spend their lives maintaining the delicate balance between the physical mortal world, and the ethereal spiritual world. They are trained to recognize the spirits that dwell in every living thing and use this spiritual sight to protect those they love from sinister spirits who seek to destroy all life.
Sometimes, Shamans will seek out spirits of love and life that willingly bind themselves to Totems so that they may aid the Shaman in their spiritual warfare. Other malevolent and vile spirits are bound to Totems against their will and used by Shamans to help defeat other spirits of destruction.
Wild Heart
Often raised by, or closely with, wild beasts, Shamans known as Wild Hearts develop an intense spiritual connection with the wild. This intense devotion, when combined with spiritual power, allows a Wild Heart to transform into the Great Beast, a legendary guardian of the wild animals of the natural world.
World setting
Both elves and humans see it as a terrible act to have a half-elf child, and as such it is very rare. When one is born, they are often raised by elves who don’t hold it against the half-elf. Humans will distrust you.

Zalminar was shunned from his village/community for being a Half-Elf, it got worse after both his parents died while he was a teen.

Left the village/community to go live in the woods/forest.
> Grew close to the forest animals and learned to live with them
> Learned to be a Shaman self taught. From the totem his parents gave him
> Will be confrontational when met with discrimination
> Very closed off and takes time to trust people
> I imagined the totem to be a medallion

Any time a character's parents, as you had wanted, to perish - that becomes an easy spot to focus on to grow the hero outward from, because it gives an easy life changing moment that says, "This is where the person gains the desire to make a difference."

I enjoyed writing this. I apologize about the long delay. Things in life have been very tense.

Anyway - here it is! Hope you enjoy!
I'd love to hear any comments you have - it's a nice way for me to know what worked, what you liked or didn't like - and it bumps the thread and keeps it alive.
===============================

Zalminar sat in the center of the woods, allowing the natural sounds of the trees swaying in the wind, the birds singing, and the shuffling of rabbits through the brush, wrap around him like a comforting blanket, as he placed his hand on the medallion he wore.

His mother, who had been a Wood Elf, and a Shaman – connected to the land, like a tree to roots, she would say – had been the one who had given him the medallion. Throughout his childhood he was often teased for being a Half-Elf, not welcome among elves or humans alike, simply because he was different than most. His mother had been the one to care for him the most; while his father, a good, hard worker, did all that he could to provide for the family.

Zalminar had lived outside of the town’s limits, closer to the woods, simply because Aesghan was a human town; and the fact that Zalminar’s father had chosen an Elf as a mate and worse, to have laid with her so that she had a half-elf child had been too much for the family. Zalminar’s father suffered the sneers and snarky remarks so that his family would not. Tragedy would however strike and deliver a crushing blow to Zalminar himself. Zalminar had been out in the woods trying to communicate with rabbits as his mother had been teaching him to do – when he saw smoke rising up in the distance in the direction of his home. He began racing back, gripping the medallion his mother had given him, whispering a prayer as he ran – pushing his body beyond its limits, so much so his lungs felt as if they might explode. As he made it to the clearing, he saw his home on fire – and saw that his father’s wagon was near the front. He ran as fast as he could, tears burning his eyes, washing away the ash and soot that was settling on his face but by the time he’d gotten to the wooden cabin, it was a raging inferno and the heat was far too intense.

No one came to help put the fires out from Aesghan, even though Zalminar knew they must have seen the smoke rising just as he had. Zalminar had run back and forth from the lake using the bucket from the back of his father’s wagon, but he knew it was useless; still, he didn’t stop until he collapsed. He awoke the following morning, covering in ash and choking. As he rose to his feet, the skeletal remains of not only his home, but his parents remained inside the flickering, ember, remains of his former home. Zalminar tried to tell himself that this fire wasn’t intentionally set by someone from Aesghan, that despite their dislike, they would not stoop this far.

Zalminar pondered vengeance against the people Aesghan; but he had no evidence this fire was intentionally set by one of them, and if he had, he had no idea who in the town had done it. Zalminar, still a young teenager wasn’t sure what to do. He could try to rebuild his home, but he wasn’t well versed at it. His father had been the one to make it, and while he’d been doing so, Zalminar was learning the Shamanistic ways from his mother. And if the people of Aesghan had been responsible for burning down his home and murdering his parents, they would surly come back and try to finish the job if he rebuilt his home. He spent the next week, creating a memorial for his mother and father and buried them. No one else came to their funeral. No one else was told about it, but Zalminar believed, even if they had been, none would have come.

Zalminar decided he would live in the woods and continue the training his mother had trained him to do with learning how to “be the root connected to the world” – because it was not just mastering the ability to see and speak with the living – but one who found the true balance of being a Shaman could see and speak with the spirits of those long gone; and Zalminar wanted nothing more than to learn how to do this so he could speak with his mother and father again, and apologize for not being there, just in case he could have done something to help.

Zalminar opened his eyes from the meditation he’d entered when he first sat down and saw that several hours had passed by, and like always, he had become lost in his thoughts. He felt, at long last, that he could move on. He would go out and learn not only of himself, but of the world, and perhaps one day, speak to his mother and father again. As he packed his bags, he took one last look behind him and saw where, several years ago, his home had been. Nature had reclaimed the burned remains of his home. Beyond that, he saw Aesghan, and his heart churned; that’s where he felt darkness; a hunger to get revenge. As the days turned to weeks and months, he became more and more convinced that someone in Aesghan had started that fire that murdered his parents… and somehow he would find out who had done it and come back and get his revenge.

So, here's a bit of a challenge for ya, Tawmis. I did some musings, which I will repost here...

Spoiler: Musings!

Show

So, general idea:
Humanity reaches the stars, finds out they're not alone, but there's a key difference between humankind and other species.
Every other race has some level of hivemind or empathic resonance. Violence, while not entirely unknown, is incredibly rare, because if you commit a violent act on another member of your species, you feel it too. Or, for some species, they're literally only a small number of true consciousnesses, spread across many bodies.
The gist is that, because these other races work together so much better than humankind does, they didn't wipe one another out, and worked together. Humanity was viewed, before achieving galactic relevance, as one of many species doomed to failure, wiping themselves out as they grew smarter. But humankind got lucky, and started colonizing other planets. In order to prevent humans from spreading like violent, violent rabbits, other species reached out and made contact, inviting humans to galactic civilization.
That's about all I got so far.

---

Link to thread.

And I want to hear some thoughts on potential character backstories for species from the middle range of aliens. Characters you could see going on adventures and partying up with humans, but to whom violence (especially against sentient beings!) is basically unheard of, and who have massive rapport with their own kind, and possibly limited empath abilities with other species.
If you need/want more details, check in with me in about half a day-I'll be asleep soon, but I'd love to see what kind of things you can come up with.

I will definitely check this out. My apologies on the late reply. Life has been very tense, and so my free time isn’t what it normally is. But when I have a moment, I would love to see this in more detail and deep dive into it.

Hey I need a another backstory please
Name is pitch
Aarakocra ranger
Eyes are black
Height 7'6"
Weight 90
Skin is black feathers
Background haunted one
Feature heart of darkness
Those who look into your eyes can see that you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness though they might fear you commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them they will even take up arms to fight alongside you should you find yourself facing an enemy alone.
Personally Traits
I don't run from evil, evil runs from me
I live for the thrill of the hunt
Ideals
I'll stop the spirits that haunt me or die trying
Bonds.
There's evil in me I can feel it, it must never be set free
Flaws
I talk to spirits that no one else can see
I am a beastmaster ranger but leave the companion open please and thank you for your help

Apologize for the delay, but here you go. Hope your DM can run with what I did (even though I am not sure what it can be, but a "dark spell" from some big bad can easily explain it).

Please let me know if you enjoyed it - or didn't enjoy it! Both work, as long as it's honest feedback!
Here you go.
=================================

The flickering campfire sends ash and ember drifting skyward and I think how these fluttering pieces of ashes remind me of myself. They fly, ever towards the sky, once made of wood, now black, empty husks flying out of control. I reach out and crush several of the ashes in my own palm.

The flickering flame catches the colors of my feathers, which are as dark as the shadows and ashes I have crushed in my palm; my eyes, also black, catch the firelight as the wood crackles, sending a new wave of ash into the air.

The Aarakocra are a proud people – what many call “the bird people” – who take pride in their nests (the name, Aarakocra call their villages). However, six years ago – a dark mist, like living shadow, descended on the nest – and everyone who was caught in it had their life drained from them, leaving empty husks. When the shadowy mist washed over me, I felt my own body drained – I felt the life in my veins rapidly ebb away, like a drinking pouch that has been punctured by a thousand blades. When I awoke, I was surprised to be alive; but all around me, the other Aarakocra of the nest lay dead, expressions of sheer terror forever etched in their faces. I was so weakened, I could barely move; but I had a deep thirst as if I had been without water for months and crawling to the watering hole took almost the last remaining life in my veins from me.

When I reached the waterhole, I was surprised to see my reflection. I had expected to look thinner – I felt thinner – drained of what felt like all of my blood. What I did not expect to see what a shadow of the person I was – quite literally. The soft browns of my feathers, and the crimson red around my eyes – all of it was gone. My feathers, the color of my eyes – all of it – devoid of color – black as the moonless night. I looked more like a disfigured Kenku than an Aarakocra.

I drank from the water – even it had been tainted by the shadowy mist, for it tasted of deep iron, like drinking blood; still I had to drink from it to survive. It took days of me crawling about like some wingless bird, before my strength began to return. I’d hope that these black feathers of mine would wash off, or that my color would return – but it had not, and by the looks of it, would not.

I am not sure what it was that washed over the nest that fateful night; but whatever it was, when I survived, I could feel a part of it still in the veins of my blood. Some dark essence lived inside of me and when I was exhausted, I could hear it in my head as I drifted off to sleep.

Unsure what to do without the nest, I began to wander in the woods. I noticed animals fled from me; perhaps they sensed that darkness I could feel lingering in me. But after years of needing to feel connected, I had learned how to tame the animals around me – so that they had befriended me. While I loved their presence; something told me there was something I was supposed to do. I am not sure if it’s the darkness inside of me urging me forward or my own will to discover what the darkness was, purge it and get revenge for nest that was consumed by its evil…

I know you are busy but I kinda need it soon

Heh. While I enjoy the enthusiasm... Do keep in mind, I do these for free (except for when people donate) - and so, if I have something that comes up - that is a paying gig, I will be off doing that, as I am supporting myself and my disabled wife. So these last few weeks (well, ongoing for awhile now) have been very tense. A lot of things happening in life that don't allow me the free time I used to always have to write these things. And sometimes, I am actually working on my own D&D world, expending my free time and creativity over there.

[Dimples786]

I am sorry I didn't mean to seem like a ******* I am also disabled with a brain injury from when I was 2 years old I don't always have the patience but I am sorry to rush you and I think you did great on my backstory and thank you for it

[Tawmis]

I am sorry I didn't mean to seem like a ******* I am also disabled with a brain injury from when I was 2 years old I don't always have the patience but I am sorry to rush you and I think you did great on my backstory and thank you for it

Absolutely no need to apologize and you didn't sound like a whatever.

I was just explaining my situation. Because I know (you can see a few posts up), Maxiboy had deleted his request because I hadn't got to it - I'd seen it - saved it in a Word document, but hadn't had the time to get to it. And when I finally did and came here to post it - he'd deleted it thinking I wasn't interested. I am always interested. But these days, I don't have the free time I had to prior to COVID (that's literally when everything in my life changed - unrelated to COVID, just happened at the same time with my wife's disability happening).

So there may be a week or two sometimes, before I get the chance to write. I usually check the forum frequently - and when I see requests - grab them and throw them in a WORD document to get to when I have a free moment. Previously I used to do some of these on my breaks or lunch at work, but that has become increasingly more difficult to do these days even at work.

Every other Sunday I am a player in a D&D game (Curse of Strahd), on Monday I play in a World of Darkness game, on Tuesday I run my own game. And then I have a monthly in person game I run, and a virtual game I run. And then there's a monthly game I am a player in (the 5e Dragonlance). So a lot of my (free time after work or weekends) are wrapped up in those. Then, when I am not in a game, I am trying to spend time with the wife and dogs (make sure they're all taken care of).

So free time is definitely not on my side these days to get to these as often as I wish to. But I do love getting to them (like on nights like tonight, after the Sunday game I am in; the rain and wind are howling outside which definitely sets the mood for writing and I was able to knock out two in one shot).

All I ask is for some patience when I do these, these days. :)

I just hope, if there is a delay, the stuff I provide was worth the wait.

[FanEmperor]

Any time a character's parents, as you had wanted, to perish - that becomes an easy spot to focus on to grow the hero outward from, because it gives an easy life changing moment that says, "This is where the person gains the desire to make a difference."

I enjoyed writing this. I apologize about the long delay. Things in life have been very tense.

Anyway - here it is! Hope you enjoy!
I'd love to hear any comments you have - it's a nice way for me to know what worked, what you liked or didn't like - and it bumps the thread and keeps it alive.
===============================

Zalminar sat in the center of the woods, allowing the natural sounds of the trees swaying in the wind, the birds singing, and the shuffling of rabbits through the brush, wrap around him like a comforting blanket, as he placed his hand on the medallion he wore.

His mother, who had been a Wood Elf, and a Shaman – connected to the land, like a tree to roots, she would say – had been the one who had given him the medallion. Throughout his childhood he was often teased for being a Half-Elf, not welcome among elves or humans alike, simply because he was different than most. His mother had been the one to care for him the most; while his father, a good, hard worker, did all that he could to provide for the family.

Zalminar had lived outside of the town’s limits, closer to the woods, simply because Aesghan was a human town; and the fact that Zalminar’s father had chosen an Elf as a mate and worse, to have laid with her so that she had a half-elf child had been too much for the family. Zalminar’s father suffered the sneers and snarky remarks so that his family would not. Tragedy would however strike and deliver a crushing blow to Zalminar himself. Zalminar had been out in the woods trying to communicate with rabbits as his mother had been teaching him to do – when he saw smoke rising up in the distance in the direction of his home. He began racing back, gripping the medallion his mother had given him, whispering a prayer as he ran – pushing his body beyond its limits, so much so his lungs felt as if they might explode. As he made it to the clearing, he saw his home on fire – and saw that his father’s wagon was near the front. He ran as fast as he could, tears burning his eyes, washing away the ash and soot that was settling on his face but by the time he’d gotten to the wooden cabin, it was a raging inferno and the heat was far too intense.

No one came to help put the fires out from Aesghan, even though Zalminar knew they must have seen the smoke rising just as he had. Zalminar had run back and forth from the lake using the bucket from the back of his father’s wagon, but he knew it was useless; still, he didn’t stop until he collapsed. He awoke the following morning, covering in ash and choking. As he rose to his feet, the skeletal remains of not only his home, but his parents remained inside the flickering, ember, remains of his former home. Zalminar tried to tell himself that this fire wasn’t intentionally set by someone from Aesghan, that despite their dislike, they would not stoop this far.

Zalminar pondered vengeance against the people Aesghan; but he had no evidence this fire was intentionally set by one of them, and if he had, he had no idea who in the town had done it. Zalminar, still a young teenager wasn’t sure what to do. He could try to rebuild his home, but he wasn’t well versed at it. His father had been the one to make it, and while he’d been doing so, Zalminar was learning the Shamanistic ways from his mother. And if the people of Aesghan had been responsible for burning down his home and murdering his parents, they would surly come back and try to finish the job if he rebuilt his home. He spent the next week, creating a memorial for his mother and father and buried them. No one else came to their funeral. No one else was told about it, but Zalminar believed, even if they had been, none would have come.

Zalminar decided he would live in the woods and continue the training his mother had trained him to do with learning how to “be the root connected to the world” – because it was not just mastering the ability to see and speak with the living – but one who found the true balance of being a Shaman could see and speak with the spirits of those long gone; and Zalminar wanted nothing more than to learn how to do this so he could speak with his mother and father again, and apologize for not being there, just in case he could have done something to help.

Zalminar opened his eyes from the meditation he’d entered when he first sat down and saw that several hours had passed by, and like always, he had become lost in his thoughts. He felt, at long last, that he could move on. He would go out and learn not only of himself, but of the world, and perhaps one day, speak to his mother and father again. As he packed his bags, he took one last look behind him and saw where, several years ago, his home had been. Nature had reclaimed the burned remains of his home. Beyond that, he saw Aesghan, and his heart churned; that’s where he felt darkness; a hunger to get revenge. As the days turned to weeks and months, he became more and more convinced that someone in Aesghan had started that fire that murdered his parents… and somehow he would find out who had done it and come back and get his revenge.

Sorry for the late reply, I stopped checking the page after a week T_T but as usual, I loved it :D, great and wonderful writing, it really brings my vision of the character alive! Thank you so much for taking your time to write this!

[Tawmis]

Sorry for the late reply, I stopped checking the page after a week T_T but as usual, I loved it :D, great and wonderful writing, it really brings my vision of the character alive! Thank you so much for taking your time to write this!

Absolutely no worries on the late reply! I enjoying hear back those I write these for! So it's always appreciated.

I am now all caught up - so if anyone wants to throw down some (even if it's not for a character - maybe just to see what I come up with! - I welcome it all!)

[HeadlessUnicorn]

Hey there! I would love to chat about a character story. It's my first time playing D&D and I'd like to wow the party!
My name is Eowyn and I am a elf cleric, 550yrs old, 75lbs, and 4ft 6". I have white hair and blue eyes. The skills I have (since I don't fight, my strength is 11, had really bad rolls when I build it lol) I can cobble, tailor/seamstress, other things just don't remember.

any questions please let me know :)

We are playing mostly 1E and 2E.

[Tawmis]

Hey there! I would love to chat about a character story. It's my first time playing D&D and I'd like to wow the party!
My name is Eowyn and I am a elf cleric, 550yrs old, 75lbs, and 4ft 6". I have white hair and blue eyes. The skills I have (since I don't fight, my strength is 11, had really bad rolls when I build it lol) I can cobble, tailor/seamstress, other things just don't remember.
any questions please let me know :)
We are playing mostly 1E and 2E.

First, I loved 1st and 2nd Edition D&D. Loved it immensely.
But 5e is incredibly easier to understand - for both DM and players alike. So curious why your DM would be introducing you to a version of D&D that is both mechanically more difficult to wrap your brain around, and also, mechanically much, much, much more difficult (monsters were very, very, very lethal in those older versions of D&D).
Anyway, I cranked something up - I ran with the "white hair" thing and went a certain way with it.
And then added that you were a cleric - and spun the following.
Please let me know if it works, if you like it, what I can do to improve, the works! I love honesty!
And feedback helps ME and keeps this thread alive.
===========================================

Eowyn was being chased by her brother, only a few seasons older than her, as the two young children scampered around their aunt’s legs, then to their mother’s. Eowyn’s aunt, Nylli, commented, “Her hair is white and wispy like a spider’s web.”

“And her eyes as deep and blue as the high sky,” Eowyn’s mother, Ateel smiled as she ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. Both Nylli and Ateel were tall, slender elves, and nearly identical in appearance, save for Nylli had green to hazel eyes, while Ateel shared the same deep, blue eyes her daughter was born with. Nylli’s hair was blond with dark brown streaks while Ateel’s hair was as blond as the morning sun.

Nylli watched Eowyn and her brother, Cozad, continue to chase one another through the house. Nylli looked to her sister. “Her hair,” she said again, this time with more concern. “It’s beautiful. But that color. It’s the color of the Dark Elves.”

Ateel rounded on her sister, her soft blue eyes, ablaze with fiery rage. “You silence your tongue, sister,” he words spat from her lips, “or I will cut your tongue. How dare you make such an acquisition! Do you think I would forgo my love for my husband for some,” she spat the word, “Drow?”

Nylli reeled back in horror, never having seen her sister react in such a manner. “No, no,” she waved her hands in front of her, both defensively and to assure her sister she’d meant no offense. “I meant for no such thing, I merely worry that whatever makes her hair such, she will have a difficult time in the years to come.”

Ateel composed herself and cleared her throat. “My apologies, sister of mine,” she finally said. “I, too, have thought about Eowyn’s future. It has been a very heavy burden on my mind and heart. I’d hoped that the blond hair of myself, or that of her father, would shine through, but it appears that the white, wispy hair remains. Her brother, Cozad has his blond hair by the age of two. Eowyn is now sixteen, and still it’s not come through.”


Nylli smiled, “There is no need to apologize, sister, I imagine you anguish over your own daughter.”

What Nylli did not know was that while Ateel was out spreading the word of her goddess, as one of her faithful clerics, the caravan she’d been part of had been ambushed and she and several others became prisoners of the Drow who had ambushed them.

To Ateel’s great fortune, and she believes, the power of her deity, one of the high-ranking Drow officers took an interest in her and her beauty. He kept her in his home but never abused her. He treated her with so much respect that escaping was something that seemed to fade from her ideas to even try – as she began to believe that perhaps this was all a plan of her goddess to learn and observe these Drow, which the Elves, and most of the world, knew so little about.

His name was Astarin Hollowlight, and he spent hours questioning her about her beliefs, the “surface world” – and she in turn, had asked him the same, though asking what it was like to live in a world devoid of the sun, moon and stars.

Astarin Hollowlight ensured that she never came to harm when other Drow came into his home. He demanded his guests to treat her as one of their own.

That’s when the surprise had come – in time, they’d learned not only to respect one another, but they had fallen in love with each other. Now more than ever, the idea of escaping seemed further and further away – but that would soon change when another surprise came.

She discovered she was pregnant. Astarin Hollowlight knew that the Drow would demand that the child be slain – whether they believed it was a pregnancy she had before her capture or if they dared guess that the father was none other than Astarin Hollowlight himself. He could not bare the idea of Ateel coming to any harm and devised an escape plan for her. However, he knew he would never be accepted on the surface world and so this escape would have to be done – and she would have to leave him behind, and he would need to forget her – and forget the idea that he would never see the child he brought into the world.

Astarin Hollowlight had smuggled Ateel to freedom – but the moment was heart wrenching for both of them.

Several months later, Ateel gave birth to Eowyn. When she came into the world, her flesh tone was the tone of her mother, and her hair blond like her mother. But as she grew older, her flesh remained the same but the blond soon gave way to white, a gift from her father’s genetics.

As Eowyn grew older, she followed in the steps of her mother, while her brother, Cozad, had followed in the steps of his own father who had died several years before Ateel’s abduction, during a battle with the orcs. Eowyn was close to her mother, and wanted to learn how to cobble and be a seamstress so that she could help others, just as her mother had.

As the years had gone by, Eowyn soon joined the Priesthood, just as her mother had, following in all the steps her mother had. She wanted to be a healer, not only for the people, but for the land. She wanted the world to feel the love and compassion her mother had always had. She harvested no hatred, not even for the orcs who had troubled the lands for years. She believed if they could just stop the hatred and if they could just hear about her goddess – perhaps they could find peace.

And so, she set her foot forward, just as her mother had done, into the world, to share the message of her goddess and heal the people and the world, who so desperately needed it.

[Oramac]

Hey Tawmis!! First, thank you for the backstory for Duke Reginald Morris (several pages ago)! I've been playing him and having a ton of fun exploring his backstory, especially within Dragonlance.

I'm getting ready to join a different group, and I again come to you seeking your expertise! This one is a little more open ended, as I don't know a lot about the rest of the party.

I'll be playing a Hill Dwarf Criminal, and the adventure will be Waterdeep: Dragon Heist. Other than that, I know very little. I'll be playing one of three classes (Trickery Cleric of Mask, Eloquence Bard, or Soulknife Rogue). Sadly, I won't know which one until session zero, probably next week. But it's been requested that I have a backstory of some kind before then.

I'd really like to lean in to the criminal aspect, but with one request: I'd like my parents to still be alive! Crazy, I know. A criminal without a tragic backstory? The scandal!

Anyway, I hope you're well, and thank you for anything you may decide worthy of the pen!

[Tawmis]

Hey Tawmis!! First, thank you for the backstory for Duke Reginald Morris (several pages ago)! I've been playing him and having a ton of fun exploring his backstory, especially within Dragonlance.
I'm getting ready to join a different group, and I again come to you seeking your expertise! This one is a little more open ended, as I don't know a lot about the rest of the party.

I'll be playing a Hill Dwarf Criminal, and the adventure will be Waterdeep: Dragon Heist. Other than that, I know very little. I'll be playing one of three classes (Trickery Cleric of Mask, Eloquence Bard, or Soulknife Rogue). Sadly, I won't know which one until session zero, probably next week. But it's been requested that I have a backstory of some kind before then.
I'd really like to lean in to the criminal aspect, but with one request: I'd like my parents to still be alive! Crazy, I know. A criminal without a tragic backstory? The scandal!
Anyway, I hope you're well, and thank you for anything you may decide worthy of the pen!

Fun notes:
Clach Liath roughly translates to “Grey Stone” in Scottish Gaelic.
It's always difficult writing someone as a criminal...
Because you never know how far to push the criminal element.
Is slavery too much? Assault?
Anyway, here's what I came up with, as always, feel free to change as needed...
But would love feedback. It helps me and keeps the thread bumped and alive!

Enjoy!
=============================

Tradition, in its most basic sense, boils down to: the handing down of information, beliefs, or customs from one generation to another.

I suppose that summarizes my own life. You see, roughly – the story often changes, depending on who you ask – but roughly around six generations ago, my great (several times over) grandfather was an Officer to King Battlestone, who at the time, sat upon the throne of Clach‘Liath. It’d been nearly sixty years since the “Blood River” war – named after the red lava that flowed through a massive ravine that the dwarves used for smelting adamantine they’d harvested. A band of goblins found a new leader in a brash, tactical hobgoblin named ‘Urtha’natar’ who knew why these dwarves used this ‘Blood River’ and convinced the goblins that the dwarves were making weapons and armor to wipe them out. One fateful night, the brash goblins attacked the dwarves – and began a ten year war between dwarf and goblin, and planting a distinct hatred between the races.

My great (several times over) grandfather was involved in that war, and said he’d never felt more alive, despite being surrounded by death.

After the war he watched as the proud dwarves became complacent. Oh, the Mountain Dwarves still forged great weapons and armor – and they were proud of their work – but after defeating the goblins, the dwarves grew careless. Guards began to patrol, with lackluster effort. Often stopping to sleep or rest, because the Dwarves had felt safe. There was no enemy to fight anymore. They’d killed all the goblins, the few that did survive, fled the mountain because they’d been hunted down.

My great (several times over) grandfather found others that were like minded – Dwarves who did not enjoy seeing their kin become lazy and lethargic; their guts growing rounder and softer rather than their arms growing stronger and toned.

During a routine scouting mission my great (several times over) grandfather and his like-minded companions discovered a new enemy. Elves. Elves that lived deep beneath the mountains. They were further down than the patrols usually had gone – and neither side had been aware of the other. My great (several times over) grandfather and his companions formulated a plan.

They launched a volley of attacks against the Drow – not to kill them, but to get their attention. They did constant hit and run attacks to get the ire of the Drow – who then, as expected, began the chase. My great (several times over) grandfather and his companions led them right back to the kingdom, shouting for the alarms and to be at arms.

My great (several times over) grandfather and his companions thought this would be an easy war – and insure that the Dwarves remained vigilant – but the Drow… they had magic… dark magic… this was not an easy battle. That simple battle evolved into an all-out war, that even today, six generations later, still rages on. My father and his companions were put on trial for their actions, convicted of treason. However, since none of them would break and confess it was intentional, the King could not execute them and instead exiled them and struck their names from their history. My family’s entire name even from before my great (several times over) grandfather and before was erased from their history books.

They, as a group, moved to an area in the Forgotten Realms to the east Goldenfields. There, they passed themselves off as Hill Dwarves, and for all intents and purposes, had truly become Hill Dwarves, both in their home, and with their name struck from the Mountain Dwarves. Their families mingled, the history of why they had migrated here, generally forgotten after six generations.

I say generally forgotten, because my great (several times over) grandfather’s son continued the tradition by becoming a well-known criminal. He would rob, lie, and swindle travelers near the area. His actions were taught to his son, then his son taught his son, and so on and so on.

Like I said, it was like a tradition – which leads to me. Who am I to break six generations of tradition?

But I was going to do something different. I heard, through a few travelers, about the city of Waterdeep. A huge city, ripe for stealing from.

Waterdeep, when I arrived, was everything I imagined it would be – a pollution of mixed races! Humans, Tieflings, Elves, Dwarves – you name it and they were here. And in all walks of life, from the rich to the poor.

My great (several times over – what? – you thought I was done speaking of him?) grandfather had instilled a hatred and dislike for authority, passed down each generation, that we were not to ever live beneath anyone’s thumb again.

Immediately defying the current “Lord of Waterdeep” (I can’t even be bothered to learn his name!) immediately got me into trouble with the “local authorities.” Which is exactly what I wanted. This got me in a prison cell where I could make contacts. From there I met a few people, operating out of a very small guild – and did some minor theft, some vandalism, minor assault on roughing up people who weren’t paying money they owed. From there, I got into forging documents (often impersonating local authorities) and claiming folk’s shops were out of compliance, and taking bribery from them to not shut down their stores.

From there, I got into blackmail – where I would in turn, blackmail those who were paying me bribes – so that it became more than just gold in my pocket – but also information and often times trinkets from their stores. As I proved to be more and more valuable, I eventually got into where we were smuggling slaves from various ships – and bringing them into the tunnels where we would set up a market for them to be purchased. It’s funny how even the rich will get their hands – and clothes dirty – for a good slave.

With the rich now in our hands, we’re getting information about rumors circulating. All kinds of rumors…

[Oramac]

Fun notes:
Clach Liath roughly translates to “Grey Stone” in Scottish Gaelic.
It's always difficult writing someone as a criminal...
Because you never know how far to push the criminal element.
Is slavery too much? Assault?
Anyway, here's what I came up with, as always, feel free to change as needed...
But would love feedback. It helps me and keeps the thread bumped and alive!

Enjoy!
=============================
snip

Wow! Thank you! I love it!

In this case, I'm sure I'll have to change bits and pieces, but I won't know what until we've had our Session Zero on Monday. But this is fantastic! I love the callbacks to my "great (several times over – what? – you thought I was done speaking of him?) grandfather"! :D

[Tawmis]

Wow! Thank you! I love it!

In this case, I'm sure I'll have to change bits and pieces, but I won't know what until we've had our Session Zero on Monday. But this is fantastic! I love the callbacks to my "great (several times over – what? – you thought I was done speaking of him?) grandfather"! :D

Hah! Yeah. I enjoyed writing that - which is why I went back quite a few generations rather than "my grandfather" or "great grandfather" - thought it'd add some personality to keep saying it - then the final time say "What? You thought I was done speaking of him?")

And for map reference...

1. Where the family started
2. Where they moved
3. You going to Waterdeep

I wanted to keep everything close to Waterdeep.

[Oramac]

And for map reference...

Dude. Just fantastic! Great thought and attention to detail. Much appreciated!

[Tawmis]

Dude. Just fantastic! Great thought and attention to detail. Much appreciated!

Thanks! I love doing things like this (clearly...)
But even in your background, talking about your character joining a "small guild" in Waterdeep.
Did that as an opening for your DM to say you all meet, as new members of said guild.
Didn't name it in case your DM wants to name it. But wanted to create an easy way for your DM to bring several criminals together.

[Oramac]

Thanks! I love doing things like this (clearly...)
But even in your background, talking about your character joining a "small guild" in Waterdeep.
Did that as an opening for your DM to say you all meet, as new members of said guild.
Didn't name it in case your DM wants to name it. But wanted to create an easy way for your DM to bring several criminals together.

Great idea! It really all depends on how things are set up come Monday, but I do like how open ended you made it. It'll be a lot easier to put in play then.

[Seplica]

Real nice of you for doing that!

I have a character idea that could benefit from a nice backstory.

Some quick notes on the setting. This is a homebrew campaign and there is only two gods, Dol'Dorne and Dol'Arrah. People having divine powers from those gods (clerics and paladins) are really rare.

My character is a bard with the charlatan background.

Now, the father of my character is one of those rare people, being a cleric of Dol'Dorne. Sadly, my characters did not seem to inherit from these divine powers. Ashamed/frustrated by that, he eventually leaves home and begin to steal/scam people.
Some day, he actually develops power of it's own with his singing/musical talents. He uses this magic to mimic the powers of clerics and begins to heal people or use illusions to scam them, passing himself as an itinerant cleric of Dol'Dorne.

Obviously he is quite conflicted with his arcane powers that he uses to mimic Dol'Dorne's divines powers that were denied from him... or were they?

[Tawmis]

Real nice of you for doing that!
I have a character idea that could benefit from a nice backstory.
Some quick notes on the setting. This is a homebrew campaign and there is only two gods, Dol'Dorne and Dol'Arrah. People having divine powers from those gods (clerics and paladins) are really rare.
My character is a bard with the charlatan background.
Now, the father of my character is one of those rare people, being a cleric of Dol'Dorne. Sadly, my characters did not seem to inherit from these divine powers. Ashamed/frustrated by that, he eventually leaves home and begin to steal/scam people.
Some day, he actually develops power of it's own with his singing/musical talents. He uses this magic to mimic the powers of clerics and begins to heal people or use illusions to scam them, passing himself as an itinerant cleric of Dol'Dorne.
Obviously he is quite conflicted with his arcane powers that he uses to mimic Dol'Dorne's divines powers that were denied from him... or were they?

I'd love to do this!
Does your character have a name? And his father?
And the two gods - what's their general feel? Do they have specific "spheres" they are a part of? One good, one evil?
Let me know - and I'd be happy to weave something together.

[Seplica]

I'd love to do this!
Does your character have a name? And his father?
And the two gods - what's their general feel? Do they have specific "spheres" they are a part of? One good, one evil?
Let me know - and I'd be happy to weave something together.

Nice!
I did not have names so I had to think about it a lot haha. But here is what I came up with.
His father is named Madilor Meklan and the character is named Madileth Meklan.
Once he left home and began his new life, he began to call himself Godwyn Theus (yes the pun is intended, as a kind of self-deprecating joke)

As for the gods, both of them are kinda neutral and pretty much never interfere at all in mortal business.
Dol'Dorne may be a bit more powerful, but he's very distant from his followers, letting them learn from their experiences and very rarely giving them any sign of acknowledgement really. Being a follower of Dol'Dorne is a challenging test of one's faith.
Dol'Arrah is more of the loving-mother type but still in a distant godlike way.

[Tawmis]

Some quick notes on the setting. This is a homebrew campaign and there is only two gods, Dol'Dorne and Dol'Arrah. People having divine powers from those gods (clerics and paladins) are really rare.
My character is a bard with the charlatan background.
Now, the father of my character is one of those rare people, being a cleric of Dol'Dorne. Sadly, my characters did not seem to inherit from these divine powers. Ashamed/frustrated by that, he eventually leaves home and begins to steal/scam people.
Someday, he actually develops power on their own with his singing/musical talents. He uses this magic to mimic the powers of clerics and begins to heal people or use illusions to scam them, passing himself as an itinerant cleric of Dol'Dorne.
Obviously he is quite conflicted with his arcane powers that he uses to mimic Dol'Dorne's divines powers that were denied from him... or were they?
His father is named Madilor Meklan and the character is named Madileth Meklan.
Once he left home and began his new life, he began to call himself Godwyn Theus (yes the pun is intended, as a kind of self-deprecating joke)
As for the gods, both of them are kind of neutral and pretty much never interfere at all in mortal business.
Dol'Dorne may be a bit more powerful, but he's very distant from his followers, letting them learn from their experiences and very rarely giving them any sign of acknowledgement really. Being a follower of Dol'Dorne is a challenging test of one's faith.
Dol'Arrah is more of the loving-mother type but still in a distant godlike way.

In this world, there are two deities. Some call them “Darkness and Light” some call them “Mother and Father.” There is Dol’Dorne, who most consider the “more powerful” deity between the two – like many fathers, he is distant from his children and allows them to learn from their experiences. He is what many call a cruel father – or the Darkness. For when he is called upon, to hear anything from him is such a rare occurrence that not even the word “miracle” can accurately describe it. Then there is Dol’Arrah, she is more of the motherly figure – she is in the heavens, always looking down and watching her children – but she too, keeps them at arm’s length – but her love and presence is always felt.

Few are ever blessed with the divine blessing of either deity – Paladins, Clerics, are extremely rare in this world. So imagine when my own father, Madilor Meklan, was blessed not by Dol’Arrah, the loving Mother, but rather Dol’Dorne, the cruel father – he became a very strict father himself. Unlike the deity who had blessed him with Divine energy, my father demanded things of me constantly. I was to gather food and supplies every day; I was to be in before it got dark; I was to feed all the farm animals, all the while, so my father could “commune” with Dol’Dorne. He made the same expectations of my mother, demanding food on the table at specific times, cooked a specific way, and served a specific way – even down to how the utensils were laid on the table.

My name is Madileth Meklan, and I am the son of the “Divine Touched Madilor Meklan” – and I was expected, by my fathers, and others, who believed our “bloodline was blessed by the gods” to one day perform miracles just as my father had been blessed to do.

At first, I lacked the discipline required; I rebelled for the sake of rebelling against my father and his ways. However, as I grew older and truly understood how rare it was for mortals to be blessed with the Divine Energy, and how those who are selected could make such a big difference in the world, I stopped focusing on what I wanted and strived to do better for the world.

However, it would seem that my youthful years turning my back on my father and the ways of the gods, had made them forever turn their gaze away from me. This upset my father who had said that his bloodline going forward would be blessed by the gods – perhaps, he was misled by the gods themselves to teach him some humility because he had certainly needed it.

It had eventually become too much for me – and with one final note to my mother, I explained I could not live beneath the same roof as father – and that I had always loved her – and even loved my father, but I could not live with him.

Packing up what little possessions I had (my father believed material possessions were a weakness to the mortal coil), I left on the road. It was absolutely terrifying the first few weeks – each time I made camp alone, I heard every sound imaginable and imagined that it was the worst thing possible each time.

I had been robbed – a few times – by brigands. One group had even attempted to abduct me and sell me for ransom – and when asked my name I provided them the name “Godwyn Theus” because I knew if they discovered I was the son of Madilor Meklan, my father, they would use that to their advantage. Another human who had been captured – a rather oddly dressed human – also captured for ransom looked at me, “Godwyn Theus?” he smirked. “A rather interesting name.”

“Well, it’s what my parents named me,” I said, pulling on the shackles that kept my arms restrained at the wrist inside the jostling wagon. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Dasho Musgon,” the human smirked.

“The Show Must Go On,” I shook my head. “That is not your name.”

“Nor is Godwyn Theus your name,” he retorted, “Madileth Meklan.”

I was stunned into silence. “How do you know my true name?”

The bard shackled to the wall opposite of me, shrugged. “Your father is quite well known, being one of the few ‘blessed by the divine.’ I was called to play at one of his ceremonies,” he answered. “And I remember seeing you from that scar over your right eye. Same scar you have now.”

“They mustn’t learn my true name,” I explained in a hastened whisper.

“They won’t hear it from me,” he said with a pause, finally adding, “Godwyn Theus.” He looked at me, “What do you say we get out of here?”

“How? We’re shackled,” I began to say, but then watched as the bard across from me was suddenly unshackled and rubbing his wrists. “How did you… do that?”

The bard smirked. “Trade secret.”

“So you could have gotten free awhile ago?” I asked in a whisper.

“Sure,” the bard shrugged and leaned over and quickly unlocked my shackles effortlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked, as I too, rubbed my wrists.

“I wanted to see how you ended up here and how you were going to get out of this,” the bard smirked. “Clearly you weren’t. So let’s go.” He peeked out behind the wagon – none of the brigands were behind the wagon, never expecting the prisoners would break free. “We’re near Akalas River,” he finally said. “We’re about to go on a very long wooden bridge. You have to trust me and jump when I say jump. Do not think about it, because it’s about a thirty foot fall into the river below. The bridge is so long there’s no way they can get to us once we reach the middle and jump off.” He nodded, pleased with his plan, and then turned to face me again. “Come to think of it, I should ask, you do know how to swim don’t you?”

I nodded that I did – but I’d never swam in a river. But that was going to be more of a pleasing death than whatever these brigands might do to me.

It wasn’t long before the wooden wheels clanked onto the bridge. The bard across from me was counting each board the wheel struck – then finally swung the door open and shouted, “Go and jump!” I did so – leaping out of the back of the wagon and leapt off the edge of the bridge.

The thirty foot fall to the river felt like forever. As I fell, I could see the bard above me also leaping off. The river took us both downstream rapidly – and just as he had said – there was no way for the wagon to cover the large distance of the bridge and come down the thirty foot embankment safely.

I traveled with this bard – learning to survive – and manipulate both magic and people through my songs and quick hands; and the name of Godwyn Theus spread as a “miracle worker.” One day the bard had left me a note explaining he had urgent business to attend to – and that one day our paths might cross again.

I never asked him his name.

[Seplica]

In this world, there are two deities. Some call them “Darkness and Light” some call them “Mother and Father.” There is Dol’Dorne, who most consider the “more powerful” deity between the two – like many fathers, he is distant from his children and allows them to learn from their experiences. He is what many call a cruel father – or the Darkness. For when he is called upon, to hear anything from him is such a rare occurrence that not even the word “miracle” can accurately describe it. Then there is Dol’Arrah, she is more of the motherly figure – she is in the heavens, always looking down and watching her children – but she too, keeps them at arm’s length – but her love and presence is always felt.

Few are ever blessed with the divine blessing of either deity – Paladins, Clerics, are extremely rare in this world. So imagine when my own father, Madilor Meklan, was blessed not by Dol’Arrah, the loving Mother, but rather Dol’Dorne, the cruel father – he became a very strict father himself. Unlike the deity who had blessed him with Divine energy, my father demanded things of me constantly. I was to gather food and supplies every day; I was to be in before it got dark; I was to feed all the farm animals, all the while, so my father could “commune” with Dol’Dorne. He made the same expectations of my mother, demanding food on the table at specific times, cooked a specific way, and served a specific way – even down to how the utensils were laid on the table.

My name is Madileth Meklan, and I am the son of the “Divine Touched Madilor Meklan” – and I was expected, by my fathers, and others, who believed our “bloodline was blessed by the gods” to one day perform miracles just as my father had been blessed to do.

At first, I lacked the discipline required; I rebelled for the sake of rebelling against my father and his ways. However, as I grew older and truly understood how rare it was for mortals to be blessed with the Divine Energy, and how those who are selected could make such a big difference in the world, I stopped focusing on what I wanted and strived to do better for the world.

However, it would seem that my youthful years turning my back on my father and the ways of the gods, had made them forever turn their gaze away from me. This upset my father who had said that his bloodline going forward would be blessed by the gods – perhaps, he was misled by the gods themselves to teach him some humility because he had certainly needed it.

It had eventually become too much for me – and with one final note to my mother, I explained I could not live beneath the same roof as father – and that I had always loved her – and even loved my father, but I could not live with him.

Packing up what little possessions I had (my father believed material possessions were a weakness to the mortal coil), I left on the road. It was absolutely terrifying the first few weeks – each time I made camp alone, I heard every sound imaginable and imagined that it was the worst thing possible each time.

I had been robbed – a few times – by brigands. One group had even attempted to abduct me and sell me for ransom – and when asked my name I provided them the name “Godwyn Theus” because I knew if they discovered I was the son of Madilor Meklan, my father, they would use that to their advantage. Another human who had been captured – a rather oddly dressed human – also captured for ransom looked at me, “Godwyn Theus?” he smirked. “A rather interesting name.”

“Well, it’s what my parents named me,” I said, pulling on the shackles that kept my arms restrained at the wrist inside the jostling wagon. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Dasho Musgon,” the human smirked.

“The Show Must Go On,” I shook my head. “That is not your name.”

“Nor is Godwyn Theus your name,” he retorted, “Madileth Meklan.”

I was stunned into silence. “How do you know my true name?”

The bard shackled to the wall opposite of me, shrugged. “Your father is quite well known, being one of the few ‘blessed by the divine.’ I was called to play at one of his ceremonies,” he answered. “And I remember seeing you from that scar over your right eye. Same scar you have now.”

“They mustn’t learn my true name,” I explained in a hastened whisper.

“They won’t hear it from me,” he said with a pause, finally adding, “Godwyn Theus.” He looked at me, “What do you say we get out of here?”

“How? We’re shackled,” I began to say, but then watched as the bard across from me was suddenly unshackled and rubbing his wrists. “How did you… do that?”

The bard smirked. “Trade secret.”

“So you could have gotten free awhile ago?” I asked in a whisper.

“Sure,” the bard shrugged and leaned over and quickly unlocked my shackles effortlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked, as I too, rubbed my wrists.

“I wanted to see how you ended up here and how you were going to get out of this,” the bard smirked. “Clearly you weren’t. So let’s go.” He peeked out behind the wagon – none of the brigands were behind the wagon, never expecting the prisoners would break free. “We’re near Akalas River,” he finally said. “We’re about to go on a very long wooden bridge. You have to trust me and jump when I say jump. Do not think about it, because it’s about a thirty foot fall into the river below. The bridge is so long there’s no way they can get to us once we reach the middle and jump off.” He nodded, pleased with his plan, and then turned to face me again. “Come to think of it, I should ask, you do know how to swim don’t you?”

I nodded that I did – but I’d never swam in a river. But that was going to be more of a pleasing death than whatever these brigands might do to me.

It wasn’t long before the wooden wheels clanked onto the bridge. The bard across from me was counting each board the wheel struck – then finally swung the door open and shouted, “Go and jump!” I did so – leaping out of the back of the wagon and leapt off the edge of the bridge.

The thirty foot fall to the river felt like forever. As I fell, I could see the bard above me also leaping off. The river took us both downstream rapidly – and just as he had said – there was no way for the wagon to cover the large distance of the bridge and come down the thirty foot embankment safely.

I traveled with this bard – learning to survive – and manipulate both magic and people through my songs and quick hands; and the name of Godwyn Theus spread as a “miracle worker.” One day the bard had left me a note explaining he had urgent business to attend to – and that one day our paths might cross again.

I never asked him his name.

Wow, I love that! The idea of a mentor is perfect! And I like that he is kind of mysterious. Opens up a lot of options for my DM to work with.

Thanks a lot!

[Wacky89]

Name: Barxus Roxley
Gender: Male
Race: Tiefling, Winged
Class: Wildfire Druid
Background: Boros Legionnaire - Refluffed to faerun? Preferably in the west coast close to Baldur's Gate/Candlekeep
Maybe Flaming Fists from Baldur's Gate? U have total creative freedom, just want a way to find a place in faerun.
Would be cool if you can find a purpose for my character.
The party is gonna find my character imprisoned in a place called Hellfire Prison (controlled by Bane) in a hell pocket dimension

Trait: Dangerous work is best accomplished by an orderly group working with common purpose.
Ideals: Achieving justice requires establishing fair, equitable, and compassionate relationships within a community
Bonds: I ran with "X Bad Guys" (maybe origin from Avernus?) in my youth, and I'm striving to atone for my past misdeeds.
Flaw: I act bravely when I'm in a group, but I'm a coward when I'm alone.

[Tawmis]

Name: Barxus Roxley
Gender: Male
Race: Tiefling, Winged
Class: Wildfire Druid
Background: Boros Legionnaire - Refluffed to faerun? Preferably in the west coast close to Baldur's Gate/Candlekeep
Maybe Flaming Fists from Baldur's Gate? U have total creative freedom, just want a way to find a place in faerun.
Would be cool if you can find a purpose for my character.
The party is gonna find my character imprisoned in a place called Hellfire Prison (controlled by Bane) in a hell pocket dimension
Trait: Dangerous work is best accomplished by an orderly group working with common purpose.
Ideals: Achieving justice requires establishing fair, equitable, and compassionate relationships within a community
Bonds: I ran with "X Bad Guys" (maybe origin from Avernus?) in my youth, and I'm striving to atone for my past misdeeds.
Flaw: I act bravely when I'm in a group, but I'm a coward when I'm alone.

Some notes - I dug up what your background (Boros Legionnaire is from) -
http://dnd5e.wikidot.com/background:boros-legionnaire

I called it the "Legion of Light" (call it whatever works best for you and your DM if it needs to change) - came up with this slogan for it:

“The Light may never destroy the darkness;
But we shall shine so brightly that the darkness
Is forced to cower in the corners of the world.”

The idea would be, once out of the prison, all of your father's teachings would be ingrained in your memory.
This was fun to write - and I thought the small explanation for the Tiefling was a fun creative twist (a goddess getting involved, you will see...)
Anyway, would love ANY feedback you have - what did you like, hate, whatever?!
It helps me and keeps this thread bumped and alive.
Enjoy!
===================================

The cage swayed from left to right, my feet dangling out, my hands clasping onto the bars, my head pressed against the swaying, hanging cage I’d found myself in. How had I even ended up here?

Maybe I should start at the beginning? I was born into this world as Barxus Roxley. My mother and father were both – seemingly – normal parents. I’d eventually learn that was a lie. But that’s for a little later. I grew up in what seemed to be a happy home. My father had always call me ‘his little hellion.’

As I grew up, I noticed my father aged normally – as the years came through and I got older – I could see the grey hairs piercing through his jet black mane and beard. My mother however, always kept her youthful, amber colored hair and never wrinkled like my father. She always said it was because she ate well and my father ate anything and everything.

When I was sixteen it became very obvious something was very strange – and even my father had taken notice by now. While he was barely able to walk, my mother looked just as she did when she had me sixteen years ago. My father was forty two and showing it while my mother still looked to be as if she were twenty one years old.

When death had finally come for my father, he lay dying on his bed with my mother at his side. She did not know I was at the door listening, stifling my crying. I heard her whisper to my father, “I need you to know the truth. I was sent to originally kill you. You see, I am not what I appear to be. You were a part of the Legion of the Light, and you and your fellow legion members had slain enough devils and demons to get the attention of some very high ranking devils. I was sent to seduce you and murder you. However, as I watched you to see how I could best lure you into the darkness, I was amazed by the kindness you displayed – not just for the rich, but mostly for the downtrodden – even sparing what you humans call ‘monsters’ from time to time. Your damn compassion was impossible to resist. I’d come to watch and seduce you, but instead you had seduced me without even knowing I was there.”

I heard my father cough, his breath ragged, but there was the hint of laughter as he spoke. “No, Tabatha, I always knew you were there. My goddess blesses me with the ability to detect fiends. I sensed you. I waited for you to come for me; to attack me, but you never did. Instead, the day you finally came to me, I saw in your eyes a deep passion and desire to understand who I was. I wanted to redeem that which you’d become.”

I heard my mother weeping now, as she giggled, choking back her tears, “You bastard. You knew what I was?”

“I’d never met a succubus before you,” my father’s haggard reply barely made it to my ears at the doorway. “Truth of the matter,” he coughed again, his voice growing fainter, “I never thought I’d fall in love with you. I fought it day in and day out in the beginning, because I believed it was some foul magic that was taking effect… but soon realized it’d been my heart that loved you not some demonic magic.” He paused. “Take care of Barxus.” Then I heard him gasp – and I knew it was his final breath – followed by loud weeping by my mother. I too, could not hold back the tears, and let loose my own tears – suddenly the door flew open, my mother having heard me, as she wiped away her tears.

“How long have you been there, Barxus?” she asked, still crying.

“Long enough to have heard everything,” I said, then picked myself up and ran to my room and slammed the door.

It was two years later – when I’d turned eighteen that my life changed forever, and the true bloodline from my mother made itself present. My skin gradually took on a slightly redder color, horns grew from my forehead, and wings eventually grew from my back. Everyone who was my friend suddenly ceased being my friend as I begged my mother to understand what had happened – I asked her too, if I was a demon like her – and she explained I wasn’t. However, because of the mixture of her bloodline mixed with my father’s – I was known as something called a “Tiefling.” She explained because I was born looking human originally – she knew I would eventually become what is known as a “Tiefling.” Had I been born looking more like a demon, she explained I would have been what’s known as a “Cambion” – and she believed that it was my father’s goddess who may have even purified me in the womb to ensure that I would not be this “Cambion.”

While I was thankful not to be some demonic “Cambion” – being a Tiefling proved to be difficult growing up. As I said, all the friends I once had no longer associated with me – they’d spread rumors that my mother was a vampire, which is why she still looked so young; or that she was a witch and had siphoned my father’s life, or that – in this case, they were accurate – calling her a demon or some kind. This led me seeking company and friends where I could – and when you’re an outcast because of how you look, the gears and pieces all fall into place, and you find yourself with other outcasts.

As I ran with these outcasts – I felt a burning inside of me – and soon discovered, whether it was some hellish attribute thanks to my mother, or some magical means – I felt bonded with flame and fire.

The pact of outcasts I ran with – decided we would try to rob a wagon they knew would have plenty of riches – and if we pulled it off, we wouldn’t be outcasts anymore.

I was young. Stupid. Rebellious. Whatever you want to call it. I believed in this idea.

What I didn’t know is that it was connected to some person or thing named “Bane” – the name alone should have given me a clue – and as it turned out, what was supposed to be an easy heist completely collapsed around us – as we soon discovered they had anticipated an ambush and were very well prepared to deal with it.

And now. Here I am. Sitting in this floating cage. In some pocket dimension of Hell. And, really, I am wondering if maybe I deserve to be here.

[Wacky89]

Thanks for the backstory :D I like it alot.
Do you have an idea for a good goal for a character like this?
I'm starting as level 7, maybe I should have added that.
How do you think he would have gained druidic training?
Maybe I need to add something from after my character started hanging out with the outcasts.
Or maybe the prison thing should be when I joined the "Legion of Light" and became a Wildfire Druid.
Maybe I started doing missions for them and got caught by Bane's followers?
If you have any idea and its not too much trouble, do you have a good ideas?

[Tawmis]

Thanks for the backstory :D I like it alot.
Do you have an idea for a good goal for a character like this?
I'm starting as level 7, maybe I should have added that.
How do you think he would have gained druidic training?
Maybe I need to add something from after my character started hanging out with the outcasts.
Or maybe the prison thing should be when I joined the "Legion of Light" and became a Wildfire Druid.
Maybe I started doing missions for them and got caught by Bane's followers?
If you have any idea and its not too much trouble, do you have a good ideas?

Easiest route for your Druid learning would be that it was your mother - the succubus - who trained you to be a druid.
She could have done so, in hopes of allowing you to appreciate and respect nature, would keep you from potentially taking on any sort of evil that may have carried over from her heritage as a succubus.
As for your mission (I am not sure if you're doing a homebrew or campaign, so I have no idea what the DM might have in mind).

[Booklover]

Hi there! I'm new to the game and I'm not really sure what I'm doing. Would you mind writing my backround

Laleorris 18

Female Tiefling Sorcerer 1 / Bard 1 / Cleric 1 / Fighter 1

Level 4

HIT POINTS

26/26 INSPIRATION

PROFICIENCY

+2

BONUS

WALKING 30ft. SPEED

-1 INITIATIVE

ARMOR 9

STRENGTH

+1

13

DEXTERITY

-1

9

CONSTITUTION

+1

12

INTELLIGENCE

+3

16

WISDOM

+0

10

CHARISMA

+2

15

SAVING THROWS

Saving Throws

Strength Saving Throw

STR

+1

Dexterity Saving Throw

DEX

-1

Constitution Saving Throw

CON

+3

Intelligence Saving Throw

INT

+3

Wisdom Saving Throw

WIS

+0

Charisma Saving Throw

CHA

+4

Backstory Haunted One

You are haunted by something so terrible that you dare not speak of it. You’ve tried to bury it and run away from it, to no avail. Whatever this thing is that haunts you can’t be slain with a sword or banished with a spell. It might come to you as a shadow on the wall, a bloodcurdling nightmare, a memory that refuses to die, or a demonic whisper in the dark. The burden has taken its toll, isolating you from most people and making you question your sanity. You must find a way to overcome it before it destroys you.

Skill Proficiencies:
Survival

Arcana

Heart of Darkness

Alignment

Lawful evil (LE) creatures methodically take what they want, within the limits of a code of tradition, loyalty, or order. Devils, blue dragons, and hobgoblins are lawful evil.

Lifestyle Modest

A modest lifestyle keeps you out of the slums and ensures that you can maintain your equipment. You live in an older part of town, renting a room in a boarding house, inn, or temple. You don't go hungry or thirsty, and your living conditions are clean, if simple. Ordinary people living modest lifestyles include soldiers with families, laborers, students, priests, hedge wizards, and the like.

Hair black

Skin brown

Eyes lavander

Height 5:2

Weight 135

EDIT TRAITS

I put no trust in divine beings. I don’t run from evil. Evil runs from me. I don’t talk about the thing that torments me. I’d rather not burden others with my curse. I expect danger around every corner. I put no trust in divine beings. I refuse to become a victim, and I will not allow others to be victimized. I like to read and memorize poetry. It keeps me calm and brings me fleeting moments of happiness.

IDEALS

EDIT IDEALS

I try to help those in need, no matter what the personal cost. (Good) I have a dark calling that puts me above the law. (Chaotic) I’m a monster that destroys other monsters, and anything else that gets in my way. (Evil) I’m a monster that destroys other monsters, and anything else that gets in my way. (Evil) I kill monsters to make the world a safer place, and to exorcise my own demons. (Good)

BONDS

EDIT BONDS

I would sacrifice my life and my soul to protect the innocent. There’s evil in me, I can feel it. It must never be set free. A terrible guilt consumes me. I hope that I can find redemption through my actions.

FLAWS

EDIT FLAWS

I assume the worst in people. I feel no compassion for the dead. They’re the lucky ones. I am a purveyor of doom and gloom who lives in a world without hope. I talk to spirits that no one else can see.