Share your background stories

[kamap]

Anyone keen on sharing background stories they made for their characters, well go ahead and lets see what you came up with.

I'll go first with a short background story I made for a oneshot character.

This is the background story of Grim Greycastle:

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I’ve been a fool.
I thought learning infernal would help me get close to the Tieflings the underworld seems to be rife with.
With the underworld I mean the seedy part of town that I call my home, don’t really know if the real
underworld is also rife with them.

I was right in my assumption that it would be easier to get close to them if I spoke their language, though
I got more then I bargained for. I got very close to one particular sexy tiefling that had been my contact
with the thieves guild for years and now I’ve got an annoying imp following me around spouting of
about defiling his masters’ follower. Though why a fiend would claim such a thing I haven’t got a clue, it’s
not like it was her first time.

He also keeps nagging her for sleeping with a lowly human, to be honest there wasn’t much sleeping
involved but semantics I suppose.
She was mortified about it and has been ranting about her meddlesome master since and we keep
seeing each other no matter what the freaking little bugger has to say about it.
I’m really not sure if it’s one imp that keeps coming back or multiple ones.
Cause every time we get rid of one of those buggers, be it stabbing, running or hiding away, they can
always seem to find us after a while.
I’ve been told that the only way to get him or them to shut up is to sign a contract with his or their
master.

The important points in the contract state that I’ll be a follower of whatever fiend made this stupid
contract, an imp will be following me around to ensure I spread chaos around, whatever that means.
When I asked about this I got some explanation stating that it really doesn’t matter if I help people or not
so long as I confuse people and do it in a chaotic way. Which was utterly unhelpful.

When I’ve spread enough chaos around the little ****e will be my personal bodyguard or some such
nonsense, till then it’s up to the freaking little bugger if he wants to help me or not.

How it will be a decent bodyguard is beyond me, it’s a freaking pushover, ok he can become invisible and
he has a nasty poisonous bite but one decent stab and its gone, dead, passed on, the imp is no more,
He has ceased to be, its expired and gone to meet its maker, he’s a stiff, bereft of life, rests in peace, he’s
pushing up the daisies, its metabolic processes are now history, it kicked the bucket, it shuffled off this
mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible, It became an EX-IMP
.
It’s getting to a point I can’t get any work done on either side of the fence, be it legitimate
exterminations of common pests or the more shadier deals where someone needs to disappear or one
has to die and another one framed for it.

The later ones are really dangerous with such an annoying pest following me around, if he starts
spouting his nonsense while I’m waiting in an ambush I could be six feet under myself instead of my
target.
Cause of the little **** I had a few close calls as is and it’s better for me to leave town for a while.

[nickl_2000]

From a Bard that is currently on hiatus

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History:
An Elven noble from the noble House Raerdrimne was travelling to find a mate is the desperate hope to
continue his houses lineage. He met my Mother in a tavern singing and playing for the assembled crowd, and
was beguiled by her skills with the lute. She played all night while the crowd slowly left and went to sleep, he
stayed the whole night watching and listening. At the end of the night he spoke with her and charmed her with
his words. Over the next year they traveled together as I slowly grew inside of her (yes, I did just do a google
search of "gestation period of half-elf" to figure this out) him and her playing the lute. When my ear developed,
the first thing I heard was their singing and playing in harmony. When I was born my father spoke words in
Elven and touched my fingers and throat, they glowed with the touch and Milil blessed me with a melodious
voice and fingers that could pluck out the most complex melodies.

After seeing me born and conferring on to me his blessing, my father left. He realizing that, due to my mixed
heritage, I will never be able to join the house and that it was his responsibility to his people and to his house to
seek and produce a suitable heir. He reluctantly left and I have never seen him. Occasionally as I have grown
up though, I've felt that there are eyes upon me from a far. I've never been able to confirm anything, but I
believe that he may be using his magic to scry my location and what is happening in my life.
As I grew up, my mother taught me everything she knew about music. I was able to read music before I could
read words, and surpassed mother's skill with her lute at the age of 6 when I could barely hold it. My singing
voice would ring out through our windows and would often cause neighbors and travelers to sit and listen
outside of our house. As my voice grew in strength I attracted more and more attention, until we found that our
house was surrounded every day. When I was around the age of 12, word of my skill was brought to the
attention of a temple to Milil and his holy order came to visit me. They tested me on different instruments and
examined my skill. After a few weeks’ worth of testing, they discovered my blessing and explained it's meaning
to me. They said that with a word from my voice I would cause pleasure or pain, entrance the mind, and set
the soul on fire, and that I could pick up and play any stringed instrument as a virtuoso. They took me to the
temple and performance hall where I was trained in the magic skills given to me through the blessing and was
trained to use my voice and skills. I learned of other instruments, was trained to play reed and flutes, although I
never excelled in the like I did with the string instruments. I was even invited to play the 5 stringed harp owned
by the priests.

My fame and following grew as I grew. In time, the crowds in the temple filled it every time I played a
performance with more turned away because they could not fit into the temple. Folks would stop me in the
street and would fawn over my skills. The adoration and fame proved to be to much for a 20 year old to
handle. I was convinced to leave the temple and break out on my own. So, finally I packed my bag, the
instruments I had learned to make and hit the road. Over the next 10 years of my life I lived like a rock star. I
brought in crowds wherever I went, filled concert halls, had hordes of followers, and made enough money to
live comfortably for the rest of my life. Everything was going wonderfully until one fateful night in a concert hall
in the town of Daggerford, south and east of Waterdeep. The crowd was rowdy, and I was in a foul mood. The
hall owner hadn't provided me with the sugared dates and plums that I demanded be available to me after my
show. I was drunk with ale and power and spoke to my people. I used my gilded tongue and drove them to a
frenzy of anger with the hall owner. After I finished my final word, they rioted, destroying all furniture and
lighting the hall on fire, burning it to the ground.

That night, when I passed out from after much more drinking I was visited by my patron God. He admonished
my behavior and berated me for my squandering of my gifts. He gave me an ultimatum, either I would do
enough good deeds to get the attention of the Harper's and be invited to join their ranks by the age of 35, or my
gifts would be taken back. I would be left with no voice at all and finger that couldn't pluck a note, much less
create a melody.

My music is my life, my voice and my song what makes my life worth living. Living without it would be a fate
worse than death, so I turned my life around. I made amends with the concert hall owner by giving him my
fortune gained through year of performance. Enough money to completely rebuilt the hall and make up for lost
revenue until is was completed. I took up my harp, lute, and yarting and left town the next day. I sought out a
group of adventures and started using my talents to aid them in helping people, assisting those that can't help
themselves. My only reminders of the life I used to live are a full set of performance attire and my
instruments. To the untrained eye they appear normal, but are crafted by the best craftsman in the kingdoms.

In approval of my actions to right my wrongs at the concert hall, Milil appeared in a vision. He told me to seek
out Baldur’s Gate, where I would not be well known and would be given a fair chance to prove my new self
without prejudice for my former actions.

Since he is a pseudo famous figure, he also has a public history I sent to the other players beforehand.


TL:DR: Childhood musical prodigy blessed by Milil. Screwed up using musical influence for bad. Told by Mili that if he didn't make up for it he loses use of hands and the ability to speak. (better?)

[LeonBH]

Those are really, really long stories. You guys should really summarize them...

One of my characters is a soldier who was experimented on, a la Homunculus in FMA. In one of the trials (where they expected him to die), he opened a Gate to the Far Realm and was pulled in. The island was destroyed. He only survived by making a Pact with a Great Old One. That was how he ended up being a GOO Warlock/Wild Mage Sorc.

[the_brazenburn]

The character I am named after, Brazenburn the Betrayer, was a half-red dragon sorcerer. He was created by an insane sciencemage who force-fed a human dragon blood. The person burnt to a crisp, and Brazenburn grew out of his shriveled heart, accidentally smashed a beaker full of infernal essence, and became a powerful sorcerer. He killed his creator and joined the Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan, paying room and board by running a criminal business on the side. When the Arcane Brotherhood found out, they kicked him out, and Brazenburn gained a new bond: "I hate the Arcane Brotherhood and all denizens of Luskan more than anything else. I will stop at nothing to destroy them and gain revenge."

[Marvnmartian]

Yeah my backgrounds are more flavor to allow me to make choices out of my personal opinions so they arn't usually long


Current one for my Cleric1/bardX is

Family tortured by arcane cultists who were trying to create new spells using flesh as components, which had him taken in by the Temple of Corellon Larethian in an elven stronghold but found the local tavern had a more to take his mind off the murders by entertaining people with stories he learned from his parents who were owners of a small book shop.

This allows me to meta game a little by every time we fight a magic user of any kind if their is time after the fight is complete I will behead the corpse bury the head and do a 10 second ritual to Larethian to take their souls. Mostly because I hate the DM trope of oh you didn't take the body so i resurrected them schtick. And allows for half-elf mixing with Elfs as a home base for the character and allows the multiclass to fuse easily.

[KorvinStarmast]

The back story of a half elf warlock, pact of the blade, whose nickname is Lik.

Spoiler: how Lik learned a language...

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The customer never came to pick up that book, so I read it. When you are hiding from a guild slimeball who thinks you made off with the whole price – even though the sum total you received for that three week project was zero, zip, nuthin’ -- you find something to do with your time. I hated school, which is why I left, but I studied like I’d never studied before. It made my head hurt.

Then I ran into Skayliza in the sewers while I was on a late night grub run. Dragonborn are not my favorite kind of people -- are they even people? We half-bloods can come half way, if ya know what I mean. I was coming back, covering my tracks. She’d had a run in with wererats and was limping, leaning on that creepy looking staff. The way she looked at me made me feel like dinner.

“Lik," she hissed, "I could earn some coin turning you in. Word’s out you walked with more than your percentage. Tell me why I shouldn’t cash in.”

I had one chance to give the right answer. The book on Skayliza was that crossing her was a good way to end up on a missing persons report, if anyone cared about you. Nobody cared about me enough to file one. She usually minded her own business, and most people left her alone. Well, most people I ran with.

“I’ve got whiskey, and I can fix that wound on your leg, Skay.” After a long pause she nodded, so I led her back to my hole. Good for her that I checked the wound. The wererat bite looked septic, with good odds of getting into her blood. She drained off the last of my Luskan red eye while I got my kit together. I had some dried belladonna on the shelf. She only puked twice. The next day she looked better. To avoid worry about the full moon it usually takes two weeks. I let her stay, and am glad I did.

Coming back from a grub run I found her reading that book. “Do you understand this, Lik? I never figured you for smart, more of a smart-alec.” I tried to say a few words from the lexicon and her eyes went wide.

“No, it’s pronounced like this. Thorgat urn fsugharth ahn feghrro.” It rolled off of her draco-tongue like honeyed oil. I tried to say it again. We spent the next day getting me to say words to her satisfaction. And most of the next.

At the end of two weeks, and no infection, she was ready to get back to her life. We’d gone through most of that book, a draconic lexicon and with an old manual for swordplay in the back. Before she left I asked if she knew who had wanted that book. Skay knew scholars and sages. I'd guessed that my customer had been a scholar.

She grinned with those teeth of hers, but I’d gotten used to her. It didn’t scare me like it used to. “I know who it was stolen from. Were you on that job?” My spine crawled with cold hairs.

“I’m just the fence, Skay, you know I don’t do second story work. My customer never showed up, though.” She cackled. I’d gotten used to that sound too.

“The previous owner is no friend of mine; we don’t see eye-to-eye on much. The customer *was* another story.” I didn’t like the sound of that, and she continued. “I know someone else who’d pay well for this lexicon.” She took a long look at me, as though she was measuring me. “I’ll split your cut with you, on account of you helping me, and I’ll get a better price than you could have because I can move in respectable circles in this city. Do we have a deal?”

Three days later she brought me a nicely weighted bag of coin, and we counted it out. I made a pile for the guild, added a few more coins for penalty, and put handful in my pocket. She kept the rest, with a funny look at me.

“Lik, I ended up with more than half. You don’t have a rep for charity.”

For once, I was honest.
“I don’t care to leave debts, Skay. I can’t buy the kind of help you gave me with that book. We both know I’m not smart enough to figure it out by myself. Call it a tutor’s fee.”

She cackled again, and headed off to wherever it is she goes when she’s curious. Before she left, she put a red rock on my table. I haven’t slept well since, but I paid off the guild and I’m still breathing -- so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

Needless to say, this warlock has proficiency with a healing kit, and the draconic language, as well as criminal background.

[kamap]

@LeonBH: I like writing though I'm not that good at it, so I tend to have long backgrounf stories, my longest so far was 23 pages, in word with times new roman on 12, though that was for a vampire the masquerade campaign.

I've got a long dnd 5e story aswell that is about 5 pages in google docs, I'm still working on it though, so that will take a while before it gets posted.

Here is another one from me.

Bran Hornraven paladin 2 warlock x, I haven't played this character but my dungeonmisstress is eager to see him played and she can't decide if she wants to let this character start at lvl 1 or higher, if she starts at level 1 we'll have to play some part of his backstory.

How he views the tenets is out of wack and not correct but thats how he sees them.

Spoiler

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All my life I’ve been training and studying to become a Paladin even my toys when I was little where
geared to making me a Paladin, my toys where always weapons of some sort, never something simple
like a toy cart to ride around with and play that I’m a farmer or toy cooking gear so I could pretend to be
a chef, no always having to play a brave knight even bedtime stories always involved a knight in shining
armor doing good in the world.

Though the more I train, the more I study, the more I’m certain that I don’t want to be a Paladin.

I would have to adhere to a whole bunch of rules depending on what vow I would take while our
enemies can do whatever the **** they want, I’m okay with fighting evil where ever it may be found but
why can’t we use their tools and tactics against them, why do we need to be brave, honorable, merciful
or forgiving?

No we have to do everything by the book, let’s take a stab at the tenets I should follow shall we?

Let’s first take a look at the Oath of Devotion.
I can’t lie or cheat ever, well that possess problems right of the bat, if I’m not careful with what I say I
might accidently break my oath, so I always have to speak carefully or keep silent, just to make sure I
avoid lying.

For example, if someone asks me to meet them somewhere at a specific time, I can’t just say I’ll be
there, I’ll have to phrase it more along the lines of I’ll be there unless something stops me from being
there.

Even simple mundane things get awkward, you spent the night with someone and in the morning they
ask, I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me now answer that when you can’t lie.
If it was fun and good no problem but what if it wasn’t, then your screwed.

I would have to show mercy and be fair to my foes they don’t show mercy nor are they fair to anyone so
why should I?
I should blindly follow those who have authority over me, I’d like to think for myself then just following
orders.
So no thanks you to devotion.

Next on the list is the Oath of the Ancients.
This sounds to me like we should all get naked, dance around a bonfire sing songs and be merry.
Getting naked with someone of the opposite sex I can get behind but I don’t need nor want an audience.
I know this is a generalization so let’s get more in-depth.

I should be merciful, kind and forgiving, nope that’s not me, if someone hurts me or the ones I protect
they’ll ****ing pay and I won’t be merciful nor forgiving, I can get behind being kind to those who
deserve it though.

The next parts of sheltering and preserving the light is rather redundant cause to me it is clear that
protecting life and enjoying life are good things.
All this talking about the light and being a beacon of good just sounds to flighty for me.

The last one is the Oath of Vengeance.
This is the one I can mostly agree with but there are still some points I don’t like.
Fighting the greater evil is good and all but just forgetting about the lesser evil isn’t and if we take it
more literally, faced with a bunch of henchmen protecting their boss I should just go for the boss and not
care about the henchmen, that will quickly lead to a dead me so no thanks.

I’m encouraged to use any means necessary to vanquish my foes, we aren’t the inquisition are we, they
do things no one expects.

When taking down your foes becomes more important than protecting others something is wrong.
If your foes are legion and you are alone you can’t stop them all and they will cause havoc.
It’s not your fault that your just one guy, I agree helping others that got hurt because of your foes is
commendable but what with the others that got hurt by something or someone else?
All the talk about sworn enemies is stupid. Being to focused on one particular type of foe is very narrow
minded.

Our order just wants to keep our little piece of this big world safe
and don’t really care about the rest of the world, if we are having problems with cultists and the like.
Other regions in the world will be having problems as well and when those problems start spilling over
their borders into our lands we have a problem that might become too big to handle, so I’d rather go out
and find the root of the problem and end it there then just keep the status qou.

So I’ve been thinking about how to get out of being a Paladin and strike a blow at the cultists we’ve been
fighting with, I came up with a dangerous plan that might come back and bite me in the arse and maybe
even literally at that.

In all the studying I’ve been doing I came across a little tidbit of information about fiends, they like to
undermine each other and are in a constant power struggle, it so happens our order figured out which
fiend the cultists we have been fighting with for over a decade now are worshipping.

Now I’d like to offer my services to a rival of him to bring the other one down in exchange for some
powers those cultists are wielding and leaving us in peace.
If I do succeed I’ll have no chance to ever become a Paladin, which is good in my book and I’ll have some
new nifty powers.

The only downside is that I’ll have a contract with a fiend but if we could just let each other be that
would be best, so I help him bringing down his rival and in the process maybe some of his followers as
well, he helps me in getting those pesky cultists away from our lands and giving me some of the powers
those cultists wield and if we could just leave it at that I’ll be happy.

If the order finds out what I’ve done, the worst case scenario is I get killed on the spot if they think I
betrayed them but if I get a chance to explain myself I should be allowed to leave. Which means that I’ll
get to see the world and go search for the root of all these problems.

[PopeLinus1]

Easily my favorite caracter, Ara Val Adrian, a Female Half-Drow Warlock of the Feind. The Bastard son of a long reign of noble drow, Ara Val was raised in a small, village on the surface. Having sorcerer blood from both ends of the family, Ara Val studied her own natural magic until the age of eight, when a raiding party of drow Killed her mother, and razed part of her home town.
The Raiding party slunk back to the underdark, not knowing that they had brought something back with them. Something angry. For the next half a year from the shadows, Ara Val used minor Illusions to trick the Drow into believing they were being pursued by a very large fighting force, and than praying on those who separated from the group.
After seven months Ara Val was captured, and I slated by the drow. For a year and a half, she bided her time. When she saw her chance she burned her prison to the ground, freed the rest of the slaves, and dedicated her live to destroying the drow civilization. After two years though, Ara Val made a decision that changed her life. She made a pact with Lord Baphamot.
With new powers, and a thirst for vengeance, She led a campaign of one (wo)man warfare. After three years of Devastation, Ara Val received news that her hometown was soon to be under attack. Because of Ara Val’s Findish pact, even though her alignment wasn’t changed, she was chased out of her hometown. With no other options, Ara straight on attacted the drow raiding party, losing, and getting captured, but also giving her town time to prepare. And in the Drow slave pins, that was the adventure began.

Thank you for your candor

[JimmyHoffa69]

Most people deep down inside think they are special. Someone important. The grand scheme of the world that goes on in some secret way revolves around THEM. Scumbo the dwarf knows this to be utterly false.

Take his name. Early on, growing up as a parentless urchin on the rough streets of (generic Forgotten Realms Big City) he found out his name was NOT the ancient name of an dwarven hero as he had imagined, instead the casual insult that he was called so much it became an identity. He is Clan-less, knowing virtually nothing of dwarven culture, lore, family tradition and has no link to dwarven religion (instead relying on Tymora to get himthrough his early life). He painstakenly learned dwarvish but with a strange accent that instantly marks him as an outsider (having learned it at Helm's Home for Human and Demi-Human Orphans from a half-elf, where he resided against his will when the authorities picked him up off the streets).

He had to be a petty thief out of necessity, but wasn't good enough for it to be noticed by the local Thieves' guilds. He is neutral good, not trusting the law or society, seeing them as only means to keep wealth for those that already have it. They can't be trusted, like those snooty dwarven traders he occasionally ran into and tried to befriend, only to have them laugh at his name, accent, and lack of anything decently dwarven about him.

Still there was something about him that interested people. Made them pay attention to him. Maybe it was the strangeness of his story (or lack of one) and situation. He always assumed he was the leader of the small groups of urchins he ran with because, as a dwarf, he had just been alive longer than the rest of the humans and knew a thing or two they didn't.

Then puberty came. Along with an ever deepening voice thankfully came the hair and beard of an adult. This was a blessing because the hair started covering up the strange, black scales that started to sprout like skin on parts of his body. Scumbo assumed he caught some sort of weird disease from eating apples that had fallen into the sewer. Then, during an argument with a headmaster at Helm's Home for Various Orphans, he spat a huge load of acid into the headmaster's face, and his sorcerous powers started to manifest.

He ran away from the Orphanage one step ahead of the cops. He has been on the run since. He joined up as a mercenary guarding caravans once his powers started to become more controllable. The coin has kept him one step ahead of the desperate poverty he was used to and one step ahead of the law in his home city. He has seen a little of the world. He took up a life of adventure.

Deep down he wonders about his parents. How did he become a clan-less beggar? Why did they leave him? Who were they? Why is he like the way he is? He hopes his journeys eventually help him find an answer to some of these questions.

[The_Jette]

My wizard was self taught through a small Wizard's library that he found exploring the runes near his home town. There was a trap door that finally rotted enough for his weight to drop him through it. After he learned the most rudimentary of magic, his town became the front line for a war between the town's local Lord, and a rival. My wizard joined the group, and led them into battle, fighting with daggers and staves against swords and axes. When they came home victorious, he then led the militia to the front gate, and demanded recompense from the Lord who had decided to welch on any payment to the men, and personally killed the Lord. Though officially an outlaw in his homeland, the people love him, and have spread his name far and wide. He's known as the Wizard who cares about the common man. His name is Tim.

[User_Undefined]

Here's the monk I made for a medieval setting game that wrapped up.

The Helders Samuel and Cassandra were a highly skilled hunter and trapper team. They disappeared one winter while out hunting and their bodies were never found, leaving their only daughter, Alyxandra, behind. She was taken in by Mother Gram, who quickly put her to work.

Originally, Alyx was the town’s unofficial delivery girl whenever someone needed one of Mother Gram’s treatments. One of those was Malik, a boy not much younger than her who was under the care of Father Dake and his acolyte Amatus. She would often deliver his medicine and then sit with him and talk.

As she grew older, she began to chafe under Mother Gram and started to look elsewhere to live and work. She ended up following Branigan around for three days until he finally let her come on a hunt. After returning, the old dwarf told her that she had “her father’s eye and her mother’s memory” and allowed her to join future hunting parties. She eventually became one of his best tree mappers, a subset of the hunters who spend more time in the trees trying to keep tabs on the migration patterns of the forest's denizens than actually hunting. They also serve as forward scouts, though the need for that skillset hasn’t arisen in decades. It was here that she met Kevin, a lumberjack turned hunter. They get along well, trading barbs about him cutting trees and her being an orphan. Both of them understand what it means to not have a "real" family. Together, are one of the first pairs Branigan calls when he needs something done.

There are three days in her life that she will never forget. The first is the day her parents vanished. The second is when she was 7 and playing hide and search with some of the other village children. Thinking she was very clever, she decided to hide in the abandoned temple. If everyone thought it was cursed, no one would ever look for her there. When she snuck in, it felt like there was a different energy inside. Old stone was completely overgrown with vines and other plant life. It felt like the forest itself was trying to claw back what had been taken from it. While hiding, she stumbled upon an old necklace with a bird’s skull on it. It wasn’t until much later that she discovered if she focused on it, she was able to cast magic. While the spells aren’t anything like what’s in Father Dake’s sermons, it made her feel special and she began learning as much about Koed, God of the Forest, as she could. The third day was when she was 17. A noble was passing through town during a festival and decided to spend the day in Corkirk. Alyx had just returned from a hunting trip and saw the young man lambasting the innkeep about the quality of his stew. She walked up to the noble, dropped her bloody kill onto his lap, and said that if he was going to complain about it, he might as well make his own meal. It was after this that she learned the man was a noble, but she didn’t back down and wondered out loud if he could cook, or if he had to order his servants to do everything for him. The noble stood up and drew a sword, and that’s when Alyx realized just how big a mistake she made. She sprinted out of town and hid in the forest for two weeks just to make sure the noble had left. Since then, she’s gotten better about choosing her words, but sometimes she still doesn’t think about who she’s talking to before saying what’s on her mind.

While not a regular patron, she's known by face and by name at the tavern for its regular fight tournaments where she consistently makes it to the later rounds and has occasionally won against opponents much bigger and stronger than her.

Alyx was a lot of fun to play. I've actually brought her back as an NPC of a mountain monastery in the other game I'm in.

---

And my warlock that specifically didn't make a deal to get his powers, but had them literally thrust into him.

Chandris was the son of a whitesmith. Most of his father's work came from the local lord, though occasionally a wizard or fiend hunter would commission a ward or binding circle. Chandris was discovered to have some minor talent for magic when he accidentally melted a pewter ring he was helping with when he was 5. Thought to be more sorcerous in origin than wizardly, Chandris stayed with his family and tried to learn to work magic into his father's creations.

When he was 11, his town was attacked and he was captured. A wizard among the captors noticed his talent and claimed rights to him. Claiming that she was trying to discover the Pathway of Magic, the wizard bound him in chains that suppressed his ability to call upon magic and ran experiments on Chandris for months while using him as a manservant. This finally culminated with the wizard strapping Chandris down within a binding circle and summoning a fiend, using Chandris' body as a medium. For a week, the wizard interrogated the fiend, until another captor made a mistake and bent the binding circle. When the wizard tried to question the fiend that night, it broke the circle and killed her. Using Chandris' body as a puppet, the fiend razed the whole encampment. As it was leaving, it stepped over a wagon wheel. Summoning as much power as he could, Chandris turned the wheel into an impromptu binding circle. Caught off guard, the fiend vanished from Chandris' mind and he passed out.

He awoke among the dying embers of his prison to a small pup licking his face. Chandris now had ritual-looking sigils burned into his back and neck, but he couldn't hear the fiend. He gathered what he could and began traveling back to his home. On the third night he began to see the spirits. Some were victims of circumstance like him. Some were power-hungry and wicked. There were stable hands and kings, bandits and knights, court jesters and arch-mages. Either way, they had all fallen under or to the power of the fiend that had possessed Chandris.

When he finally arrived to his home, it was filled with strangers. After the attack that had taken him away, another lord had taken residence in the castle. Overcome with grief, Chandris knelt in front of what had once been his family's home and screamed. He felt the sigils on his body heat and glow before fire exploded around him. As he looked through the flames, he saw villagers staring at him with fear and mistrust. Reacting, he fled the town before they could gather the courage to chase him. As he ran, he heard in the whispers of his mind the sound of a fiend chuckling. Knowing that whatever happened on that wagon wheel did not excise the fiend, Chandris has spent his life searching for a way to rid himself of this dark influence, occasionally seeking advice from the spirits of those already lost.

Chandris has had a lot of character development I did not expect since I first thought of him. He has no idea who or what the Fiend was, or what it wants. For lack of a better metaphor, all of the Fiend's knowledge is locked in his brain. As he levels up, he is decrypting bits of that knowledge, which manifest as the warlock abilities. Originally, he was made for a oneshot going through the Mines of Madness. I had some extra gold left over, so I gave him a mastiff as a pet. Tiberon morphed into a sort of literal guardian angel for him once I joined the DMs actual campaign. Think Mouse from the Dresden Files. Chandris still doesn't completely understand what Tiberon is, but mechanically, we've replaced the Dark One's Luck ability from the Fiend patron with the UA Hexblade's shadow hound one after Tiberon transferred his shadow to Chandris after Chandris asked him to stay at the monastery he spent several months at to try to gain better control of the Fiend's tendencies to guard his almost girlfriend. He's also become a magical researcher somehow. I'm still not sure when that happened, but he took Eyes of the Rune Keeper as an invocation and I'm pretty sure he knows the most number of languages out of the entire party (Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Elvish, Orcish, Primordial). Oh, and he's reverse engineered gunpowder from studying the mechanics behind casting Fireball and a prototype musket we found in the basement of an insane wizard among other "failed" inventions (Dust of Dryness when it was supposed to make things wet, etc.). He and the Arcane Archer also started a gunsmith business and are selling to the town militia, the Magic University of the continent, and are currently working on making inroads to the city with an entire warrior caste of dragonborn. He's also been inducted into the Guild of the Quill and Scroll. Imagine if Nathan Drake, Indiana Jones, Lara Croft, Daniel Jackson, et al formed a guild, and you have an idea of what the guild does.

If you're curious, that Pathway of Magic the wizard was trying to figure out? It's basically atomic theory but for magic. According to our DM, we've made it up to the plum pudding model.

[Skyblaze]

Alexander Drake, brass dragon sorcerer. Bastard son of a noble family that has dragon blood in their veins. Father hates him because he got the dragon powers instead of the legitimate son. Hes off in the world to get away from his family and stick it to his father whenever he can.

[2D8HP]

Here you go:

Spoiler: A very long and tragic Back story of a rebel and deserter

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The girl screamed while the soldiers laughed.
He's forgotten so much, but he could remember that.
He didn't understand.
When the Queens soldiers took Paw away, Ma said Paw "was going to the Queen to be a hero", but they were hurting her! Heroes didn't do that!
Ma said that he was as strong as Paw now, maybe stronger, even though he didn't have a beard yet.
Ma said he needed to do what Paw used to, cut the tree's, dig the wells, and when the time came slaughter the pigs. With axe, hammer and shovel he would swing his arms and do what Ma said.
Ma said "Ossian, you listen now to your cousin Gwen, she's got a good head".
Maw was the only one who called him "Ossian", everyone else called him "Ox".
Gwen was screaming!
Maw said "you need to do what your Paw would do".
Paw was a hero.
So he swung his arms.
The soldiers stopped laughing, but Gwen still screamed.
"You've got to run Ox, they'll kill you"! "Run far, go to the rebels".
So he ran.
He ran far and met the rebels.
They gave him a sword.
And he did what they told him.

He swung his arms.

While life on the farm was hard, life in the forest was worse. For years they snipped at the Queen's men and hid and waited, till enough of the people knew that the time had come. Buried under homes, and hidden in wells and the walls of cottages were long stored weapons.
Out they came, by the thousands, and they marched on the capitol.

To defeat the tyrant.

And by the thousands they were slaughtered.

The brave and the good died.

Ox tore off the crimson flower of the rebels, ran and survived.

The gallow men had much work to do.

The walls of the capitol were decorated with the heads of rebels, as were the crossroads of the country, and every village square, to remind the foolish.

For years the heads rotted.

So much he has forgotten.
But he remembered somethings.
He remembered Maw's, Paw's, and Gwen's faces.
Now when he looked into the water he saw Paw's face, but Paw's beard was never grey was it?
He remembered that they called him "hero" once, now if anyone used that word about him they put "was a" in front of it.
He remembered he used to be strong.
He was still strong, but not like he was.
And he remembered the Queen.
And he remembered her hunters, who were now her son, the King's hunters.

And he would have to swing his arms again.

Uncomfortable amidst such strange opulence, and distrustful of nobility in the city, "Ox" closes his eyes in the hopes it will prove a dream, only to remember how that morning he saw a man who looked how Paw looked when the Queens men took him away, and the young lady that man was with looked like cousin Gwen.
But they couldn't be. Ossian was now older then Paw had been when he last saw him, so "Paw" could not be Paw, and Gwen? She would now have grey hairs as well.
More and more he saw memories walking in the day, which wouldn't do. Best not to remember.

Can I get a drink, sir?

Spoiler: Wood-elf Fighter Riardon's backstory

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Though he'd "lived", if you could call it "living" for years, growing soft in this city of men, Riardon remembered the forest.

Riardon loved the forest.

The sound of the wind, the river, the birds.
And foot steps.
He loved his family as well, but he always felt the call of the forest, where he could live without speaking, and be still.
And listen.
And wait.
For his prey.
He told himself he hunted to feed his family and neighbors, but deep inside he knew that wasn't true.
He needed the sounds of the woods, as well as the quiet.
And to watch
And to listen.

He heard the woods burning.

He had lived through forest-fires before, but this was different. There had been no lighting. And he heard screaming. Elf screams!
In an instant from so still he would appear to be part of the woods, he became quick as a deer running from a couger, and he ran towards home.
Towards his family.
Towards everyone he knew.
He saw the burned bodies.
And the arrows.
And something else.

A banner.

Men's banner.

Riardon knew then that he would leave the woods.

He had a new prey.

Spoiler: urchin background Human Fighter, Lander's back-story

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Lander Stormwind grew up "on the street" (Waterdeep or similar big city of your choice) and fell under the influence of a half-orc lead street gang (which used the Orcish language as a "cant/slang), most of the gang was killed by a larger criminal gang or arrested and Lander has been a wanderer since. Lander's main companion since has been a pet mouse, Mr Squeekers.

Spoiler: Entertainer background, half-elf Rogue Del's back-story

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Pick pocketing orphan street urchin adopted by troop of wandering minstrels/players.
Adoptive parents found steady gig in one town (playhouse etc)
Del not ready to give up wandering life
Often speaks in exaggerated "posh" accents (uses many long words where a few short one's will do), excellent mimic, can pass for different ages, nationalities and genders (actors training), but when under stress or agitated speaks as a lower class male "street tough"

Spoiler: Description/back-story of Drake the Thief

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The general appearance of the man speaks of the city. His dark face is that of a jester. Bright, grey eyes, snub nose, and little lines of irony about the mouth. Hands of a conjurer. Something about the set of his wiry frame betokes experience in street fights and tavern brawls. He is clad from head to foot in garments of rough dark rough brown leather, which dimmed to black in some spots . From his belt hangs.a slim sword, cased in deerskin, with a slightly curved toward the tip. Over his shoulder is slung a small bow.
Big city street "Arab" (urchin)/pick-pocket.

"Do unto others before they can do unto me", and "It's not stealing if I need it more!"

Gang was destroyed by rivals and City Watch (Watch was likely protecting rivals), went on the road and far away to escape murder or hanging!

May still be wanted in home town.

Seeks a life of secure wealth, ale with brandy chasers, and escaping poverty!

Spoiler: Drake's Patron Deity:

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"The Lady, She-who-shall-not-be-named... The 'Million-to-One' Chance - and all of the other chances as well... The One who will desert you when you need Her the most - and sometimes She might not..."
Her suitors can be distinguished by their distinctive repetitive prayer; "please-oh-please-oh-please-oh-please."

Shakespeare:"Fortune, good night, smile once more; turn thy wheel!"
Augustine:"How, therefore, is she good, who without discernment comes to both the good and to the bad?...It profits one nothing to worship her if she is truly fortune... let the bad worship her...this supposed deity"
For those aligned with Law Dame Fortune/Lady Luck/Tyche/]Tymora! does not seem an appropriate choice!
Medieval lyrics:
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
velut luna (like the moon)
statu variabilis (you are changeable)
semper crescis (always waxing)
aut decrescis; (and waning;)
vita detestabilis (hateful life)
nunc obdurat (first oppresses)
et tunc curat (and then soothes)
ludo mentis aciem, (as fancy takes it)
egestatem, (poverty)
potestatem (and power)
dissolvit ut glaciem. (it melts them like ice.)

Sors immanis (Fate - monstrous)
et inanis, (and empty)
rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
status malus, (you are malevolent)
vana salus (well-being is vain)
semper dissolubilis, (and always fades to nothing)
obumbrata (shadowed)
et velata (and veiled)
mihi quoque niteris; (you plague me too;)
nunc per ludum (now through the game)
dorsum nudum (I bring my bare back)
fero tui sceleris. (to your villainy.)

Sors salutis (Fate is against me)
et virtutis (in health)
michi nunc contraria, (and virtue)
est affectus (driven on)
et defectus (and weighted down)
semper in angaria. (always enslaved.)
Hac in hora (So at this hour)
sine mora (without delay)
corde pulsum tangite; (pluck the vibrating strings;)
quod per sortem (since Fate)
sternit fortem, (strikes down the strong)
mecum omnes plangite! (everyone weep with me!)

Spoiler: Noble background, human barbarian "Grim" Gorstag's backstory

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With the death of his mother in childbirth, Gorstag was an unwelcome addition to his noble family. Called "Little Grim" by the servants, his father and siblings had little contact with him, and he grew up awkward snd isolated from social mores.
From the tapestries, pictures in books as well as his fathers armory, he inculcated the notion that "mighty warriors" are worthy of respect, and had fantasies of being one, notions his eldest brother encouraged with the death of their father.
Gorstag's newly deceased father Grim the was the hero summoned by the Lord's Alliance to join an expert team of investigators, travel to the faraway town of Red Larch, and destroy whatever dark force is threatening the Dessarin Valley, and his brother and uncle told "Little Grim" to go in his fathers place, a mission which Gorstag now "Grim" eagerly obeyed.
Being told to travel far to lands "in need of heroes", and to "bring honor to the family, was all it took for Gorstag, now "Grim" to take his father's third best sword and try just that.

Spoiler: Backstory: Ulrich the Knight meets an "Angel"

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A Captain of "Crusaders", long used to war, through a land largely torn apart by the long, violent clash between nations. Leaving a despoiled city, upon noticing signs of plague among his men, he fills his saddlebags with provisions and leave in the night. Battle-weary at this point, travelling across a devastated landscape looking for temporary sanctuary before joining yet another conflict.

He stumbles upon a peaceful forest in which he can only hear wind, no birdsong or buzzing insects, in the middle he finds a well provisioned ancient castle, with no signs at first of any inhabitants. Lacking any guards, he first thinks it empty and helps himself to a nice bed and some food. But it isn’t long before he discovers Sabina, a beautiful raven-haired woman he instantly falls for. After a wild night of debauchery, Sabrina openly admits to being a slave for Lucifer and that she’s being used to help arrange a meeting between him and her master. He thinks Sabrina, despite her intelligence and beauty, might be a bit crazy. Or at least her master might be. Curious, he decides to play along to see what will happen.

A wondrous appearing being made of light presents itself, The Lucifer he meets, as it turns out, is quite real. But this Lucifer is not the stereotypical fire-and-brimstone devil. There’s no pitchfork, no horns, no tail. He walks into the fallen angel’s private study and finds “Seated at the table and apparently reading a book...the most wonderful being I had ever seen. I became light-headed. My body refused any commands. I found myself bowing”. Lucifer has a deal for him.

Since he has spent most of his life bringing war to the world, his soul belongs fully to Lucifer.

"If you wish, I will not claim your souls in return for a service."

"I was once a Angel, and I wish to be reconciled with Heaven."

"Find for me the cure for the world's pain, often called the Grail, so I may bargain with Heaven, and I will relinquish my right to your soul."

Despite the being’s obvious power, Ossian remains dubious that this could be the one and only Lucifer. So the demon takes the warrior on a whilrwind tour of hell,

"A sample of what awaits you!",

and wisks them to the lower planes where he witness the torments there. Then they're return to the castle.

"Here are some maps and equipment to begin the search."

"And if you refuse my offer?"

"Then I will see you again.... in time."

He accepts Lucifer’s deal, on the one condition that Sabrina’s soul be released as well if he succeeds

Spoiler: Backstory: Álfur the Viking

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Astrid missed her husband Erik terribly while he was a-viking, and when he came to her early as a surprise she rejoiced... only to find him gone with daybreak.

When the raiders came back they were short Erik who had died pillaging a monastery the very night that little Álfur was conceived!

Yadda...yadda...yadda ...

Álfur now a young man wants to prove himself a "true son" of his "father" Erik

“I'm not going to die," she said. "Not till I've seen it."
"Seen what?"
Her smile widened. "Everything.”
-Lila Bard and Kell, from A Darker Shade of Magic


"Happy men don't volunteer. They wait their turn, and thank god if their age or work delays it".

-‎Yevgraf Zhivago, from Doctor Zhivago

[samcifer]

Here's one I have set up, but am not yet playing... A Warforged Wizard (Evocation)...

"Tome", as he is now called, knows that his race is slowly dying out. With the great war over and all the known foundries where his kind were created dismantled or destroyed as well as the secrets of the creation of his kind lost to time, he searches the world in hopes of one day uncovering the lost secrets to the creation of the warforged so that they can reproduce on their own and save the race from extinction. To add him in his search, he has studied hard in the arcane arts and became a powerful wizard that he may study the magics used to create his race. A the world is a dangerous place, he focuses primarily on the elemental war magics of the evocation school to aid him in battle, though he embraces all forms of magic that can be learned.

[Klorox]

These are fantastic! Keep up the good work everybody!

I hope y’all don’t mind me “borrowing” a few ideas. 😜

[mgshamster]

I wrote this one for a Water Genasi Coastal Druid with the Entertainer background. She fancies herself a cultural anthropologist, and goes from town to town cataloguing cultures and telling the stories she's discovered so far.

Here is her story:

They say our people came from a union of merman named Eadro and a human woman named Selune. It was a forbidden love as the people of the land and the people of the sea were not meant to mix. We were born of their love and we lived on the coastlines and tended the waters on the shores. We looked human enough from a distance, but the bluish-green tint of our skin exposed their love, so we often hid in the shallows, only going on land to hunt. But we are a folly people, as changeable as the waters we lived in, and in our folly we grew reckless and brave. We spent more and more time on land. And the more time we spent on land, the more we loved it. And it was with this mistake that we were caught.

When Umberlee, the God of the Sea, discovered our people, she became enraged. She threatened Eadro and Sulune and forbade them from ever seeing each other again. In her wrath, she brought forth a tidal wave to eradicate us. Eadro and Selune stood against her, hand in hand, to protect their children. Our people were saved from the waters, but our village was destroyed. Umberlee did not like this. She banished Selune to the moon where she could never walk upon the land again, and Eadro to the bottom of the oceans, where he could never to see the surface again. Selune was distraught. She cried; and as her tears touched the moon they became silver. They rained down upon the ocean and sank all the way to Eadro so he would never forget her. Eadro collected them all and left some in the shallows for us to find. To this day we keep them with us. They protect us from the wrath of Umberlee and have allowed our people to survive.

Those of us who tend the shores wear the silver teardrop, made from the tears of our mother.

(In Forgotten Realms, Selune is the CG Goddess of the Moon, Eadro the N God of Merfolk, and Umberlee the CE Goddess of Sea and Storm).

[MxKit]

I have three characters that I either am playing now or will be playing soon...

Eldeth Ironfist, a mountain dwarf who, when mining, found... something, under the mountain. Something whose powers she tapped into, and though it only touched her mind for a moment, and may not have even noticed her itself, she immediately found herself obsessed, overtaken by a desire to-- find out what exactly it is, at least. Hence the comparatively young (60 years old!) dwarf left her home to become an adventurer... As a GOO Warlock, of course. (Not even Pact of the Blade, but I haven't decided which of the other two packs to go for, yet. Having some Pact of the Chain familiar reflavored to be all tentacular would be great, but Pact of the Tome might work better for a character who wants to Learn More... She also started the normal Lawful Good before her story started, but she's shifted to Neutral Good by the time of play, and might shift more over the course of her career.)

Left-Handed Hummingbird is a tabaxi, of course, but she's a slightly unusual one. Parentless and 'raised' by the streets, used to watching the alleycats, Bird has a deep respect and admiration of *all* cats, seeing them as connected even more deeply to the Cat Lord than tabaxi themselves are, and through deep discipline has come up with a fighting style that mimics catlike movements and fighting styles -- and she's using it as a killer for hire, because everyone needs to make a living somehow. (Practically speaking, Bird would be Drunken Master/Assassin, only with Drunken Master refluffed as a cat-like style. By the end either Drunken Master 15/Assassin 5 or Drunken Master 14/Assassin 6. In universe, of course, Bird wouldn't see herself as jumping back and forth between classes, but just developing and improving her own fighting style consistently. Bird is very much True Neutral.)

Hokta is, by this point, a very odd sort of goblin. At a young age he was made the jester for his camp, and grew greatly accustomed to being able to say and do anything he wanted without the abuse that was heaped on literally every other goblin in the camp. He found delight in what power he could finagle over other goblins, and even hobgoblins, and enjoyed mouthing off to the bugbears, hiding criticisms and mockery behind jokes. He was, as was custom, untouchable... Until the camp gained a nilbog. And it wasn't him. Knowing that his position was immediately incredibly precarious, Hokta promptly ran away. He found himself pushing into the outskirts of the Feywild to hide, and unexpectedly caught the attention of Hyrsam, the Prince of Fools, who offered him a pact... And by the time he wanders back out of the Feywild, he's been blessed with many ways to confused, confound, and otherwise just aggravate his enemies. (Archfey Warlock, obviously; Pact of the Tome, and centered on majorly inconveniencing people in and out of battle. I'll be playing Hokta in a game where we're starting out at Level 15, and I think I'm just going to play him straight Warlock, though giving him a few levels of Satire Bard was tempting just for flavor reasons. He's also Chaotic Neutral but very capable of forming attachments to teammates... Eventually. He just values his own freedom above all.)

[Dalebert]

Milo, shadow sorcerer with a brief dip into hexblade:

Milo doesn't talk about his after death experience in a dark place surrounded by terrifying malevolence. They were closing in on him, having already taken his life, now they sought to also take his soul, trapping him forever in a world of oppressive, crushing darkness. In that moment, a mysterious figure appeared to him--not a figure of light, certainly, but in this world of darkness it was... less dark. It extended a hand to him. It told him his people were calling out to him and Milo could hear it too. He wanted to accept their call but he was surrounded by dark, evil creatures. They wouldn't let him go. So he grasped this other creature's hand, realizing on some level that there was a hidden meaning to his acceptance of help, but he was desperate.

Milo was a middle-aged human druid in an Outlander tribe (thus Outlander bkgd) who got killed by a shadow. For some reason, he didn't become a shadow. The tribe Reincarnated him and he came back as a 12-year-old half-drow-elf heavily favoring the drow side in his appearance. Not being especially racist as they were used to people often not returning as humans, they accepted this anomaly, but what they couldn't accept was that his magic had been perverted into something... unnatural. His shadow often misbehaves and acts completely out of sync with what he's doing. He seemed the same person, motivated to do good in the world, but he has these inexplicable outbursts of rage, often accompanied by flare ups of his dark sorcery. His dark eyes with tiny flecks of red go full red like a drow in these moments. It was as if a seed of evil had been planted in the otherwise pristine soil of his soul. Milo was ultimately exhiled by his tribe and sent on a quest of redemption, not to return until this darkness had been cast out of him, lest it spread.

[BoringInfoGuy]

Rilis Kerymeth, Wood Elf Life Cleric of Mask - Criminal Background.

Created to run The LMoP. (Not an AL group)

To understand Rilis, you have to know Therem

Spoiler: Therem Holimion

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Therem Holimion: Elder Half Elven Cleric, back alley healer, social worker, secret disciple of Mask.

If clerics are the tools and weapons of the Therem was the finest scalpel. Not powerful, like a sword, or threatening, like a dagger, but a tool of great precision and skill.

On the wrong side of the streets, he was known as a healer that welcomed all who needed healing, without questions or judgement. Charges were small, based on what the hurt could pay. It was also known that a bottle of wine was fine payment.

On the cleaner streets, Therem was known as a one to go to when discretion was called for.

A solid judge of character, Therem would find the diamonds in the rough on the streets. For those, he would seek out opportunities to make on honest living. Those so placed were invariably honest, talented, hard working souls. While it started with with simple jobs at first (apprentice butcher, for example), over time the reputation of Therem's diamonds reached the ears of the the upper crust.

Therem found rougher diamonds as well. These would be recommended to those seeking less honest labor, but needed loyalty and cleverness.

To all, Therem was a friendly fellow, always making time to keep in touch. A common sight was the half elf coming to visit, often with a bottle in hand. If there was a complaint against Therem, it was that he never stayed in one place too long. Touched with the wanderlust, he traveled among the cities in towns of the Sword Coast, helping those in need wherever he went.

And that is how, over several decades, Therem patiently created a network of unwitting spies and informants. None of whom realized their role in furthering the influence of Mask.

As unwitting pawns, no magic or interrogation would find them out. They WERE trustworthy. None would betray the interests of their employers. But who did not trust Therem, benefactor to all in need? A friendly visit, a bit of wine, some idle gossip to a listening ear, and they would talk more freely than with anyone else.

Behind that friendly face lied a mind adept at taking the little clues, offhand remarks, the things not said, and putting it together with all the snippets from other visits to create a picture of the larger happenings.

Never one to act directly, important information would be passed on to one of the few Maskarran who knew Therem's true purpose and goals. For his subtle influence, he was respected far more than his raw power [level] as a cleric would indicate.

But when Therem died, the network was lost.

Mask is not pleased.

Rilis Kerymeth

Spoiler: Rilis Kerymeth

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Rilis, cliff notes version

Hated life, left home
Got mugged, left for dead
Rescued by Cleric named Therem
Set up with group of "honest traders" (smugglers)
Specialized in sneaking small valuables around tricky checkpoints.
Spent years with group.

Therem starts using smuggling group more regularly when traveling between cities.

Rumors of opportunities in Phandalin lead group to go and attempt to set up a new smuggling route. While group leader found and started talks with local criminal element.

Wood elf stuck in town with nothing to do. Takes to drinking and playing cards. Bored, starts spinning various lies.

Talks go south suddenly, all leave town.
Attacked in night. Therem killed first, clearly targeted.
Some of smugglers killed, some, along with the wood elf, escape.

Attacked again, different group? Bad luck? Fiendish plot?

Elf alone escapes back to NeverWinter, dead on feet. Collapsed after reaching NeverWinter at the door of [criminal contact], the group's fence.

Fever dreams, talks with an angry Mask. Foolish lies led someone to decide the smugglers were really a vanguard for a new crime group to take over, and eliminated the competition. Mask lost a fine scalpel of a cleric.

A deal struck. The wood elf enters the service of Mask. Disdainfully, Mask refers to it as replacing the finest scalpel with a crude club.

Elf wakes with a new face, the holy symbol of Mask branded into his forehead, and a new name. Rilis Kerymeth. (Wood Weapon in elvish)

Now, Rilis returns to Phandalin to seek out revenge. First, he needs new allies, perhaps some of these caravaners will show potential.

Unlike Therem, Rilis was written in a cliff notes style.

There were a few reasons I did it that way. Since some may find it interesting, they are listed below. If not, we’ll, I do call myself Boringinfoguy.

Spoiler: reasoning

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Brevity: I have a tendency to be long winded, and even the notes were long enough.

DM buy-in: Some of the ideas (been to town before campaign began, the fever causing a new face and Holy symbol on forehead) were thematically appropriate for the character concept, but would have additional mechanical impacts. As such, they needed DM approval. (For the record, been to town before was approved, while the new face and holy symbol on forehead were not).

Flexibility: Personally, the more I write up a concept, the harder it is to accept outside alterations. So, when the DM did not buy off on the new face idea, I had not become overly invested in what was really just some fluff.

And the DM had more room to offer suggestions. Such as an idea on how to tie my backstory to that of another characters.

[Beelzebubba]

My Wood Elf Outlander Druid is basically a stoner hick from a slightly inbred clan.

Kind of like Ricky, from Trailer Park Boys.

“I am - I have to admit it - a bit of a weed-smoking screw-up. Spent too much time partying with the Satyrs in the Fey-touched side of the valley. My parents told me to go 'find power' to help combat the aberrations that seem to be intruding more often lately, but I suspect - though this may just be a paranoia talking - they just wanted me gone.*

I picked up survival skills from my father, and herbalism from my mother. But, my aptitude for the Old Way surprised them both. They’re proud, but nervous I'll turn out like my great -great -great -great -great -great -great -great -great Aunt, the Archdruid. She's a bit...off. She hasn’t spent time in Elf form in years. And don’t ask me how my cousin Saffron is a Dryad. I can’t begin to explain.**

My cousin will carry on Father’s Ranger tradition proudly. It’s just...that aviary for her Hawk ‘friends’ drives me crazy! It’s so loud, and there’s bird crap everywhere. I’d sooner hang out with Auntie's awakened Yew. He knows when to shut up.

Anyway, I've been wandering been years, and I think I’ve finally tracked down a source of the aberrations. A cult outside a human settlement near the coast. A few others that look like possible allies have the same idea. It’s time.”


* They wanted him gone.
** His 2,500 year old Aunt, the arch-Druid, banged a Satyr.

[SkylarkR6]

Donovan, half elf born in Chult and sold into slavery at a young age. Purchased by a temple as a menial servant he lived and worked there for years. The temple possessed a holy relic and as such, came under attack by demons. Donovan hid in the tool shed in the courtyard.
A solar interceded to protect the temple and relic and blasted the courtyard with holy light. Donovan was peeking out the door and apparently failed his contact save and died
The solar, sensing this, went over and for whatever reason, broke off a piece of divine spark and replaced the boys soul with it. Now he's a celestial warlock who just happens to hate all things demonic, abyssal, and their servants and happily hunts them down.

[kamap]

There are some good stories in here, keep em comming!

[Euclidodese]

Spoiler: 'You There' - Goblin Arcane Trickster

Show

'You There' was brought back from a raid on a goblin settlement by the useless, floppy-haired son of a minor nobleman.

After torching his village and 'clearing out the rest of the goblinoid scum,' the young knight had found a goblin child so pathetic looking, so tiny, so ugly and hopeless, attempting to lift up a sword twice it's size to take on the entire raiding party alone. The sight made the young knight laugh.

He'd picked up the little goblin with one hand and tied it to the front of his cart for the journey home. Once back in his manor, the young knight placed a magical collar around the neck of the goblin, which would go off and drive a blade into the throat of the goblin should he flee the grounds, act violently or just at the boy's whim.

For three years the knight used the goblin as a punching bag, a foot stool and a spittoon. But he was fool enough to let the goblin clean the manor's library unsupervised, where after some initial difficulty in understanding how a little squiggle could represent a sound, it read, and it learned.

After three years of humiliation, a little crackle leaped from the tip of the goblin's finger and the collar that had dug into it's neck for thirty six long months popped open and fell to the floor... "This is going to feel good." the goblin decided, as it tossed the kitchen knife in it's hand and caught it.

[Blacky the Blackball]

My most recent characters:

Xarion - Level one Drow Wizard (Illusionist) with the Charlatan background - for a Hoard of the Dragon Queen campaign

Xarion was pretty much at the bottom of drow society. As a "merchant" sent up to trade with the surface folk, he knew that he was completely expendable and only had the job because no-one else wanted it - his superiors didn't really care if he came back alive or not. He was always jealous of how happy the surface folk seemed to be, and hated having to go back down to the underdark after each deal - but he was paranoid that the surface folk would never accept him if they knew what he was and he had no-where else to go. One day, it all got too much for him and he let his disguise slip. As a result, he was run out of town and barely escaped with his life.

Not daring to go back down to the underdark empty handed - he was pretty sure he would be tortured and killed if he did - he did his best to survive in the wilderness. The good news was that he managed to find shelter in a secluded cave containing the corpse of an adventurer. Whatever had killed her had long gone, but among her possessions was a spell book and a wand. Over the course of a thoroughly miserable ten months, Xarion barely managed to avoid starvation (he would never be any good at wilderness survival) but with little else to do other than study the spell book, he eventually managed to teach himself some of the very basic cantrips and spells in there. Prestidigitation and Mending were particular life-savers, since the former meant he could eat food that tasted as if it were well cooked and the latter saved huge amounts of time maintaining his crude shelter and weapons. Eventually he mastered Unseen Servant and Magic Missile, which vastly improved his quality of life. He could get the servant to chop firewood and similar menial tasks and he could use the unerring accuracy of the Magic Missile spell to hunt far more successfully than he had been able to before.

Eventually, having mastered all the basic spells in the book (of which there were few, since the dead wizard had obviously been just out of apprenticeship herself when she was killed), and feeling fitter and healthier than he had in months, Xarion decided he would return to the surface folk and join one of the adventuring parties they seemed so fond of. In the short term he could now disguise himself better than ever with his new illusion magic; and once he had managed to gain more arcane power people would be forced to accept him for what he was.

Stan Tealeaf - Level One Halfling Paladin (Oath of Devotion) with the Criminal background - for a Curse of Strahd campaign

As a young halfling growing up on the streets, it was no surprise that Stan ended up using his size and dexterity to become a burglar. As one of the many young burglars in the Thieves' Guild he at least got a roof over his head and three square meals a day. His life changed one day when he had been sent to rob the house of a knight. He sneaked in easily enough, but to his horror he was confronted with a terrible sight. The knight's young son had fallen down the stairs and was laying unconscious at the bottom. Worse, he appeared to have been carrying something made of glass as there was broken glass around him and he was bleeding heavily. Stan couldn't just leave him there, but he had no knowledge of healing arts and no idea what to do. In the end, he thought, he had to do the right thing - even though it meant getting caught, he couldn't just let the poor boy die. So he quickly nipped into the kitchen and grabbed a ladle and a pan and started banging them as loud as he could to wake up the household.

The knight, as well as being very grateful for his son's saviour, was intrigued that this burglar - who had been coming into his house to steal his belongings - was willing to be caught in the act rather than to let an innocent die. Rather than handing Stan over to the authorities, he arranged for him to become his squire as both a reward and a means of keeping an eye on him. Stan, grateful for the chance to be something greater in life, swore that he would go straight and give up his life of crime forever.

Stan has been true to his word. Now, three years later, his training is finished and he has been inducted into the order as a full paladin. From his humble beginnings, he still feels more comfortable with leathers and a couple of short swords; and he's not lost his touch with thieves tools and can sneak around with the best of them. But his criminal days are behind him, and now he will only use his talents in the pursuit of justice and righteousness. You'd be amazed how often being able to disarm traps or pick locks is useful in that line of work.

-----------------------------

That's actually the first time I've written out either of those backstories: our group doesn't do written backstories. I had them both in my head when playing the characters, but not in as much detail as I've written above - just in much more broad strokes. And I don't think I've discussed them with the others in the group either in or out of character.

[Lord Vukodlak]

Nigel Reinhart was born in 2364 to Rupert and Victoria Reinheart. He was raised in the city of [insert name here]. His father worked as a city administrator handling the day-to-day tasks the nobility couldn’t be bothered with. His mother Victoria died when he was very young and he has few memories of her. Growing up Nigel’s primary interest was in his books and spent much of his time reading. Rupert was a rather distant father and often left Nigel in the care of his aunt Sylvari (from his mother’s side) a half-elven sorceress who thought that little boys should be out playing and getting into scraps. She believed if he didn’t get his head out of the books once and a while he’d grow up and become a wizard or worse a politician.

During his teenage years he went through a rebellious phase becoming a bit of a hoodlum. With his gang of friends, Thomas, Phillip, William, Randall and Joyce they engaged in petty theft, vandalism and one count of Goblin tossing. (grabbing a goblin and tossing him through a store window). This phase came to and end one dark summer night, while vandalizing an old mausoleum they were attacked by ghouls. Thomas and Phillip were set upon first once paralyzed the ghouls disregarded the others and began to feed. William, Nigel and Joyce managed to pull Randall to safety and escape the mausoleum but he latter succumbed to his injuries and died. Afterwards Joyce joined the church in penance and Nigel returned to his studies eventually attaining the position as head librarian in the City’s grand library. As for William… he went down a darker path.

For the next twenty years, Nigel led a rather quite and peaceful life. The only moments that could be called exciting was a few times he helped various adventurers in there research. Sometimes to find some lost McGuffin or place but usually in how to handle the monster of the week.

It was in his forties that he met the mage aged Medivar. The wizard was a frequent visitor to the library and always in need of some research material. One day he asked Nigel if he’d like a permanent job as his research assistant promising to teach him real magic. Nigel politely declined he was quite happy with his current position and learning magic beyond the theoretical didn’t interest him. Medivar then offered him more then twice is current salary so naturally Nigel agreed.

Medivar was researching magic into the manipulation of time. Nigel believed the aged wizard was searching for a way to restore his youth but the wizard never directly shared the purpose of his searched with Nigel.

Nigel also worked with another apprentice of Medivar Judith a young woman far more interested in learning real magic then himself but far less interested in the lore and theoretical side of it. Then little more then year before the start of the campaign there was an explosion. Something went wrong in the lab and in a near blinding flash Nigel saw Medivar age centuries in a matter of seconds. Grabbing whatever research materials and regents he could he fled before the mage’s tower collapsed.

Nigel quickly found he’d been contaminated by whatever magic Medivar was experimenting with and was de-aging at an accelerating rate. After six months he’d physically regressed to his early twenties. Using the research and regents he took from the tower Nigel was eventually able stabilize his condition to the point that he de-aged at the same rate other people aged normally. But by that point he was physically no older then thirteen by his own estimation. Needing, research material and resources to cure himself, Nigel used his apparent age to pass himself off as a child genius and progeny to attain a job an Arcane advisor and researcher for a minor Nobleman. The Nobleman joked(or so Nigel likes to tell himself) that Nigel should marry his eighteen year-old daughter because the children would be both geniuses and beautiful. Nigel said the age difference would make such a relationship inappropriate. It was working there that brought Nigel into contact with Baron Pondraco-de-Manilla with an offer of employment in the colony of Kosh-Oggez.

[Finback]

Gerhart Ostermeier was a simple man, working his farm as his father and his father's father had before him. A man of few words, he believed in actions, and of doing the right thing. He married his sweetheart, a local girl, and they did the best one could living in Barovia - barred the door at night; kept the fires hire; and hung the right charms over the door.
Then came a war. He, and other suitably aged men were sent off to fight against devils and their kin. Almost two years he was away, fighting for rich lords and nobles who didn't give a damn about stopping evil or even learning the names or home towns of the men who bled, who died for their war.
Returning home, he found his farm a charred ruin, and the corpse of his wife tossed to one side like a bad season's pumpkins.

If he'd been there, if he'd not been fighting for fat merchant barons, she'd be alive. He could have defended his home. Now he roams the land, fighting injustice for the common people, and stopping evil where it stands. The nobles are no better than Strahd, and they will know the fury of his vengeance.


(I left an open clause for my DMs (they take turns on chapters and story arcs) that she was pregnant with their child when he left - she didn't know. So MAYBE there is a child out there. Hostage? Slave? Therein lies the suspense)

(He's a variant human paladin of vengeance; he's eventually going to multiclass into warlock, most likely Blade pact, with the Celestial patron, because BURNING JUSTICE is a thing.)

[kamap]

Again some nice aditions, keep em comming I'm still working on my very long background story and eventually I'll post it here.