Need a character background written up?

[stormsouldevil]

Got a new character Im rolling up, and got most of it done....

Name: Rasuna Auravar
Age: 19
Level (3, Totem barb.)
Race: orc (Green skin, red hair, golden eyes)
Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Idea: what they lack in original character concept I wanted to make up in backstory. Instead of the normal sexual violence cliche and "I WAS RAISED BY WOLVES!" I wanted to go with a happy home life and more of a commune with nature type of warrior. (and yes I did go bear totem, because bears are awesome, and DR to almost everything is awesome. Also despite adoring the concept this is the first chance ive had to run a barbarian in 5e for more then a few sessions.)

Messin around with Xans.... I got that.... I just feel like I got a little too much that. So Im looking to add a bit more danger spice to her history. And she does have 3 years of adventuring to play with.

Her father and mother fell in love when he ventured from orc lands with the hopes of trading and hunting. Instead he decided to settle with a human woman. The Village would only tolerate so much, so instead they moved into the wilderness. My human grandparents helped with what they could and soon we had a large home. My father hunted and the excess pelts and meats sold well in the village and started a lumber business, his willingness to venture into more dangerous parts of the mountain forest made him the supplier of the best lumber in the area. The business was slow growing but afforded a comfortable life.

Since he has passed, his eldest daughter has taken up the family business.



Family and ages-
- Kraiz, died at 45 in his sleep 5 years ago
- Jodis, 48

- Tamozi: 31, f Hunter/logger

- Ingun: 29, f, Caravan guard/logger

- Orest: 26, m trapper/logger

- Ureg: 23 f, Hunter/Logger

- Agamok: 22, m Caravan guard/logger

- Bruni: 20yo, M Forest guide/logger (He often works on his own as a guide thanks to a mildly bum knee.)

- Rasuna: 19, F, Barbarian/Warrior /logger

- Herdis: 18 f, logger

- Zurimak: 17 m, training to be a trapper/logger


Edit: And had some edits about what I think my character is like and her backstory.

Backstory i'm, editing the family business to logging, the survivalist training came in handy but their primary source of funds was their willingness to venture deeper into the forest for good timber, though they often had paid employees it was an all hands on deck venture for most of her life. Now that her older sister is running a fully established business it's much more self sufficient.

Her story with the bear totem (I'm thinking about going full Bear, as the campaign is level 3-16 and Im the only real melee character (We have a monk and a cleric but they are definitely NOT front liners. No one is playing a real squishy character, but a LOT of D8s and my 1 D12 HD) is a bit more mythical. One winter (about 13 years old) they were out long into the winter, seperated and lost from her convoy after a goblin attack she was persumed dead until she came back in the spring. She claimed to have found refuge with a Bear, but since then shes been changed. As if she drinks more deeply from the cup of life. Wilder, but kinder. Angrier, but happier.


She (or he, Im not super tied down on gender) is kind of a warrior of the people. She grew up in a home and among people who shared freely what they had and she has little patience for the scheming and often brutal policies in cities, and barely an understanding of why those with so much have so much while many more have so little. She helps where she can, with a spare coin or bit of bread for most of the hungry and destitute she runs into. Those that fear to, she plays to being more orcish and more "barbaric", though for the vulnerable and children she always has a smile and a warm greeting.

This change comes a bit from spending most of my weekend blaring Flogging Molly in my head phones. ^_^

[Tawmis]

I got a tough one for you, Tawmis.
A slaver that was once evil, became good through a Conquest Paladin teaching him how to understand why evil is "wrong". That is, the character was force-fed their own medicine until they realized the error of their ways.
Now the character serves the chapter of Paladins that does the same, inflicting Evil upon Evil in a last attempt to strip away everything until desperation overcomes malice.
(Snip)

Got a new character Im rolling up, and got most of it done....
Half Orc barbarian. And what they lack in original character concept I wanted to make up in backstory. Instead of the normal sexual violence cliche and "I WAS RAISED BY WOLVES!" I wanted to go with a happy home life and more of a commune with nature type of warrior. (and yes I did go bear totem, because bears are awesome, and DR to almost everything is awesome. Also despite adoring the concept this is the first chance ive had to run a barbarian in 5e for more then a few sessions.)
(Snip)

Consider these added! I look forward to doing these! Work was chaotic yesterday - today, I am hoping to sit down and try to knock out a few of the pending ones during lunch!

[Goldlizard]

Oh, sure! You can just PM to me - or heck, better - start your own thread on the forum - so others can check it out too! (Just message me the link to the thread if you do that, and I'd love to read them!)




Not being familiar with the Chakara - I read up on them (the link in your original post is broken; but the game and the general URL was enough to get me what I needed!)
So, based off of what I read (three pages to the race) - and having never played it - I am making a few assumptions in this origin that may or may not work.
Hopefully it does; because as the concept continued to roll as I wrote it... I actually enjoyed it!
I just don't know if this is exactly how this race works!
Hopefully, if it doesn't work - you still enjoy the background!
As always, would love to hear feedback - especially with the mods dinging me for "bumping" - so replies will help ensure this thread stays alive!
Enjoy!
=======================================

“Hold them back a moment longer!” Do’raun, a githzerai monk, defending their temple, which floated in the chaotic storm of the dimensional plane known as The Limbo. An opposing force, the Blue Slaad – a humanoid frog like creature with enormous claws on their hands – bred by infecting their hosts, in this case, the githzerai. The Slaad had been sent to destroy the floating temple, because that githzerai were pulling magic and energy from the Astral Plane, for which the Limbo connected to.

The Githzerai had sensed a great power source through the Astral Plane that could be the key to finally defeating the Slaad and ending the eternal war that had been waged. Do’raun tried to shut out the sounds of his companions dying all around him as he projected his mind into the Astral Plane in an effort to find that which they’d sensed.

However, just as Do’raun projected his mind forward, one of the Blue Slaads ran its claw through his heart. His mind already veering into the Astral Plane, his sudden death had tried to return to his body – but the chaos of the Limbo and Astral Plane projected it wildly – perhaps it was only for a few seconds, perhaps a few days; it could have been years, or even centuries – but when it reawaked, it was neither in the Limbo or the Astral Plane – but the Prime Material Plane. It seemed to wander – when suddenly, over time, it began to develop a form – reborn as a Chakara.

He’d used, what was called The Third Eye – or the Purple Lotus – to gain insight to understand the people of the Prime Material Plane, and learned a great many things, such as the wide diversity of personality traits and races that walked this world. Using the Heart – or the Green Lotus – he learned to value friendships and connections. Though many initially reported fearfully when seeing him, he always emulated a sense of peace, calm and creativity. Learning that mortals of this plane adopted names, the Chakara who only had fractured memories of his former self, adopted the name Aumu.

As he learned forge bonds, one of the things that struck a chord with the compassion, was those who prayed to the gods; mended the wounded and tended to the sick. As he learned more about those who called themselves Clerics, he began to take further interested. He began to volunteer at Temples, somehow, sensing at one time, he was connected to a Temple of some kind. This also taught him about mortality and the preciousness of every second in life mattering. He wanted to help these mortals, and perhaps find the answers to the shattered memories of his own. He was soon recruited by the Temple and began the life of a Light Cleric. Seeing that Aumu was capable of taking care of himself, his fellow Clerics informed him, that he would be good for spreading the words about the gods; and healing those along the way he encountered as proof of love and grace of their gods.

They warned Aumu that the world, however, was full of dangers. And traveling alone was not recommended.

“Adventurers,” Father Haynor, an elderly human, who soon would be ascending beyond the mortal plane, told Aumu. “Find adventurers. They’re likely to go where there is dark and evil; and vanquish that which threatens our world. They will need you. Your power. Your magic. And your connection to the Light. And perhaps, with them, you will find the answers to the questions you ask yourself, when you awake each morning, and feel there’s pieces of you that are not complete.”

Sorry, for the late reply, I'be bee nbusy. Thank you for the Background! I love to see this custom creation getting some glory. you work wonders.

[Tawmis]

Sorry, for the late reply, I'be bee nbusy. Thank you for the Background! I love to see this custom creation getting some glory. you work wonders.

Thank you! And completely understand about being busy.

My work, as of today, announced we will all be working from home for the next two weeks due to the Corona Virus stuff. So it's been chaotic (I do IT Support stuff, so all these people now need help with their VPN, access, etc).

Hi, I had a character I made for a one shot that I ended up really liking that I would like some of your awesome help fleshing out more.
Name: Arrakis Sandtrout
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: Hexblade1/Conquest7
Align: Lawful Evil
Flaws: selfish, allies are just a means to an end
Appearance: leathery taunt skin from the sun, blue on blue eyes, only has one wing left

Grew up in Zakhara, with character traits drawn heavily form the Fremen of the Dune series, if the name didn't give it away yet. Does not outright lie, but deals in half truths when needed.

As for the light backstory I already have from the one shot: due to his celestial heritage, Arrakis was kidnapped, raised, and then had his soul offered to Zariel by cultists. Thinking since he was already destined for hell, he'd rather not become a lemure. Therefore he decided to forge a new contract, where he would seek out worthy souls to fuel the blood war in exchange for better standing in the ranks of hell. This is also where he gained a level in hexblade, where the hexblade's curse appears as a brand of Zariel. To perform his duties to Zariel more efficiently, he poses as a lawful good paladin.

Any input would be welcome, though I specifically need help with how Arrakis would hide his true allegiance, or maybe he doesn't even need to?

I wanted to play up that Arrakis had a connection to angels (Aasimar), as does Zariel (formerly an angel).
I introduced a way that Arrakis is captured, and how he starts, very much a hero, and falls, broken by Zariel.
Hopefully this works for you! Please leave ANY feedback! Whether you like it, hate it, whatever - it helps keep the thread bumped!
As always -
Enjoy!
=========================================

Arrakis Sandtrout had spent his life fighting a war against the ever encroaching darkness and shadow that slowly spread across the land, as if the light of hope were a setting sun on the distant horizon. As an Aasimar, he had always tried to be a light of hope to the people of Zakhara, leading them in endless battles against the demon-spawn that rose from the bleakness.

One of the men, a human named Bren’nahl, approached Arrakis. Bren’nahl had been cut, torn, and bleeding profusely after the latest attempt to stop the demon siege. “We cannot win this, Arrakis,” he sighed, as he attempted to – in vain – to stop the extensive bleeding from his forearm. “All is lost.”

“No,” Arrakis placed his hand firmly on Bren’nahl’s shoulder lightly, though it appeared it might have been enough force to topple the bleeding human. “They only wish you to believe that all is lost. This is how they win.”

“I’m afraid,” Bren’nahl admitted. “If we fall here, my family resides in Korefen, just behind us.”

“They will be safe,” Arrakis assured him. “You and I will see to that. I will be at your side, and together we will be the spear of hope that breaks these demons. You will not fail because I refuse to fail.”

For three weeks, the battles continued to rage, and just as Arrakis had said, he’d remained by Bren’nahl’s side, and they’d fought back to back, facing impossible odds, but each night, they returned victorious; sometimes bloodier, and closer to the death than the night before, but they had been there for each other.

It had been the end of the third week when the battle took a drastic turn.

Behind the newest demon siege, a massive figure could be seen. Though the creature bore a demonic appearance, it wielded a massive scimitar and hurled flame from its hands with devastating results. Not only had the demons inflicted damage, but this new attacker now was capitalizing on the assault, destroy demon and human alike, in its reckless attack to decimate all who stood before it.

Bren’nahl and Arrakis soon found themselves surrounded by the demon spawn, with their backs to one another, Bren’nahl whispered, “This is where the battle ends, my friend.”

The large, lumbering figure peered down, scimitar in hand, leaning against his crimson shoulder. “Well, what do we have here?” its voice boomed. “Is that angel blood I sniff, its wretched smell, burning my nostrils with purity?” He looked at the demons and cultists standing around him and barked, “Bring them both. I believe our wonderful mistress would like to speak with them.”

Though Bren’nahl and Arrakis struggled, it had been in vain, as the numbers overwhelmed them, like the shadow of night.

When Arrakis opened his eyes again, he was chained to a wall and a woman sat across from him. “Angel blood,” she whispered “and of such pure goodness.” He fingers traced something on the side of her chair as she looked up. “I was once an angel, you know. I was once beautiful, skin of white, hair flowing like clouds, wings made of the wind.”

“I was told to watch the Blood War,” she continued, “watch. Watch and wait. I became obsessed with the war. We could finish the War. I wanted to. But they would not listen. So the War waged on and on, and so I watched. I saw the living, die brutally. I see the dying, left to rot. All sense of life faded from me as I began to lose sight of it. Soon I embraced the shadow. I embraced the darkness. I became what you see before you.”

“Zariel,” Arrakis whispered.

“Good,” she smiled from beneath her dark hood, “you know my name. And you know if you displease me, your soul will be shackled to the walls outside my chamber, to scream and perish night after night, for all eternity.”

“That is for those who only serve you,” Arrakis replied.

“Is it?” she smiled, as she suddenly stood. She snapped her fingers and Bren’nahl appeared, strapped to a wooden board. She raked her hands across his flesh, and his skin could be heard sizzling as it bubbled and burned beneath her touch. She dropped three droplets of his blood onto her hand and clenched her fist. Suddenly, as if from thin air, a woman and two children appeared before her. She grabbed the woman’s head and with a quick snap, killed her. Bren’nahl screamed out, furious. It’d been his wife.

She reached for the first child.

“Stop!” Arrakis barked. “You’ve made your point, witch. If I give my service to you, will you set them free?”

“I would,” she laughed. “But my Efreeti already saw to it that you soul was mine. Look at your chest.”

Arrakis looked down and saw a glowing red rune in his chest.

“Efreeti magic,” she smiled. She snapped the first child’s neck, then the other’s, then Bren’nahl’s. “Well, at least they’re all together now.” She laughed and left the room, leaving Arrakis strapped to the wall.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Arrakis relieved the same nightmare, until he could take it no more.

“What is it you want of me?” he demanded. “Why do you kill my friend and his family every night and refuse to tell me what you want.”

She placed her hand on Arrakis’ chest. “Ah, yes, there it is… Hope broken. The evil now seeps in the cracks of where Hope once lay. Now you’re ready. The Blood War. It is on going, and many souls perish. I need more. Return to the Prime Material Plane with my blessing, and use the magic I have bestowed into your veins, to harvest souls for me.”

Arrakis could feel it in him; like a poison that had spread through him. The endless nights of seeing his friend and family murdered before him had, at first made him despise her. But soon, his hatred gave way to desperation. His desperation then soon gave way to seeking anything to end all of this from happening; and in that moment, the evil crept in his veins. He knew if he did not obey her, this would all resume again.

He had, through her endless murdering, disassociated himself from feeling anything. No hope. No sympathy. No anger.

As the chains disappeared, he found himself falling forward, kneeling before her.

“I live, and die, to serve you,” he whispered.

She placed her hand under his chin and smiled, “And you will do all three.”

[stormsouldevil]

Added some better formatting to my post and a few more details.

Also hope work isnt too terrible. I'm hoping mine doesnt decide to stop before next friday (I get paid by the day and need those days)

[theblindsaint]

Thank you! And completely understand about being busy.

My work, as of today, announced we will all be working from home for the next two weeks due to the Corona Virus stuff. So it's been chaotic (I do IT Support stuff, so all these people now need help with their VPN, access, etc).



I wanted to play up that Arrakis had a connection to angels (Aasimar), as does Zariel (formerly an angel).
I introduced a way that Arrakis is captured, and how he starts, very much a hero, and falls, broken by Zariel.
Hopefully this works for you! Please leave ANY feedback! Whether you like it, hate it, whatever - it helps keep the thread bumped!
As always -
Enjoy!
=========================================

Arrakis Sandtrout had spent his life fighting a war against the ever encroaching darkness and shadow that slowly spread across the land, as if the light of hope were a setting sun on the distant horizon. As an Aasimar, he had always tried to be a light of hope to the people of Zakhara, leading them in endless battles against the demon-spawn that rose from the bleakness.

One of the men, a human named Bren’nahl, approached Arrakis. Bren’nahl had been cut, torn, and bleeding profusely after the latest attempt to stop the demon siege. “We cannot win this, Arrakis,” he sighed, as he attempted to – in vain – to stop the extensive bleeding from his forearm. “All is lost.”

“No,” Arrakis placed his hand firmly on Bren’nahl’s shoulder lightly, though it appeared it might have been enough force to topple the bleeding human. “They only wish you to believe that all is lost. This is how they win.”

“I’m afraid,” Bren’nahl admitted. “If we fall here, my family resides in Korefen, just behind us.”

“They will be safe,” Arrakis assured him. “You and I will see to that. I will be at your side, and together we will be the spear of hope that breaks these demons. You will not fail because I refuse to fail.”

For three weeks, the battles continued to rage, and just as Arrakis had said, he’d remained by Bren’nahl’s side, and they’d fought back to back, facing impossible odds, but each night, they returned victorious; sometimes bloodier, and closer to the death than the night before, but they had been there for each other.

It had been the end of the third week when the battle took a drastic turn.

Behind the newest demon siege, a massive figure could be seen. Though the creature bore a demonic appearance, it wielded a massive scimitar and hurled flame from its hands with devastating results. Not only had the demons inflicted damage, but this new attacker now was capitalizing on the assault, destroy demon and human alike, in its reckless attack to decimate all who stood before it.

Bren’nahl and Arrakis soon found themselves surrounded by the demon spawn, with their backs to one another, Bren’nahl whispered, “This is where the battle ends, my friend.”

The large, lumbering figure peered down, scimitar in hand, leaning against his crimson shoulder. “Well, what do we have here?” its voice boomed. “Is that angel blood I sniff, its wretched smell, burning my nostrils with purity?” He looked at the demons and cultists standing around him and barked, “Bring them both. I believe our wonderful mistress would like to speak with them.”

Though Bren’nahl and Arrakis struggled, it had been in vain, as the numbers overwhelmed them, like the shadow of night.

When Arrakis opened his eyes again, he was chained to a wall and a woman sat across from him. “Angel blood,” she whispered “and of such pure goodness.” He fingers traced something on the side of her chair as she looked up. “I was once an angel, you know. I was once beautiful, skin of white, hair flowing like clouds, wings made of the wind.”

“I was told to watch the Blood War,” she continued, “watch. Watch and wait. I became obsessed with the war. We could finish the War. I wanted to. But they would not listen. So the War waged on and on, and so I watched. I saw the living, die brutally. I see the dying, left to rot. All sense of life faded from me as I began to lose sight of it. Soon I embraced the shadow. I embraced the darkness. I became what you see before you.”

“Zariel,” Arrakis whispered.

“Good,” she smiled from beneath her dark hood, “you know my name. And you know if you displease me, your soul will be shackled to the walls outside my chamber, to scream and perish night after night, for all eternity.”

“That is for those who only serve you,” Arrakis replied.

“Is it?” she smiled, as she suddenly stood. She snapped her fingers and Bren’nahl appeared, strapped to a wooden board. She raked her hands across his flesh, and his skin could be heard sizzling as it bubbled and burned beneath her touch. She dropped three droplets of his blood onto her hand and clenched her fist. Suddenly, as if from thin air, a woman and two children appeared before her. She grabbed the woman’s head and with a quick snap, killed her. Bren’nahl screamed out, furious. It’d been his wife.

She reached for the first child.

“Stop!” Arrakis barked. “You’ve made your point, witch. If I give my service to you, will you set them free?”

“I would,” she laughed. “But my Efreeti already saw to it that you soul was mine. Look at your chest.”

Arrakis looked down and saw a glowing red rune in his chest.

“Efreeti magic,” she smiled. She snapped the first child’s neck, then the other’s, then Bren’nahl’s. “Well, at least they’re all together now.” She laughed and left the room, leaving Arrakis strapped to the wall.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Arrakis relieved the same nightmare, until he could take it no more.

“What is it you want of me?” he demanded. “Why do you kill my friend and his family every night and refuse to tell me what you want.”

She placed her hand on Arrakis’ chest. “Ah, yes, there it is… Hope broken. The evil now seeps in the cracks of where Hope once lay. Now you’re ready. The Blood War. It is on going, and many souls perish. I need more. Return to the Prime Material Plane with my blessing, and use the magic I have bestowed into your veins, to harvest souls for me.”

Arrakis could feel it in him; like a poison that had spread through him. The endless nights of seeing his friend and family murdered before him had, at first made him despise her. But soon, his hatred gave way to desperation. His desperation then soon gave way to seeking anything to end all of this from happening; and in that moment, the evil crept in his veins. He knew if he did not obey her, this would all resume again.

He had, through her endless murdering, disassociated himself from feeling anything. No hope. No sympathy. No anger.

As the chains disappeared, he found himself falling forward, kneeling before her.

“I live, and die, to serve you,” he whispered.

She placed her hand under his chin and smiled, “And you will do all three.”

The direction you took in how he meet with Zariel face to face, and is has an active interest in twisting Arrakis is a very interesting and one I haven't thought of but do enjoy. However, his fall reminds me alot of Reek/Theon from GoT, and I have too hard of a time imagining how someone like that would be able to embody the forceful presence of a conquest paladin. Regardless, thank you for the write up!

[Tawmis]

Also hope work isn't too terrible. I'm hoping mine doesn't decide to stop before next Friday (I get paid by the day and need those days)

Well, we still have to work. So we're not out of work. We're just being forced to do it remotely now, from home.

The direction you took in how he meet with Zariel face to face, and is has an active interest in twisting Arrakis is a very interesting and one I haven't thought of but do enjoy. However, his fall reminds me alot of Reek/Theon from GoT, and I have too hard of a time imagining how someone like that would be able to embody the forceful presence of a conquest paladin. Regardless, thank you for the write up!

Easy there! I did not have anyone's penis chopped off and sent to their father and sister!

But I can see what you're saying - the endless torture. But what I was hoping to try and convey is that Arrakis made a promise to Bren’nahl that he would keep him (and his family safe) - so for months on end, Zariel showed Arrakis the only thing that would break him - his shattered promise being relived time and time again.

And unlike Theon/Reek, who became more of a timid mouse (well, except at his end scene), Arrakis (after reliving a broken promise repeatedly for months) simply because immune to compassion (and thus falls towards Lawful Evil) in his promise to serve Zariel. (And... I don't know if it was clear enough, but it was implied - that Zariel was lying when she said the Efreeti magic already bound his soul to her; this is why she continued to torture him with the vision of those deaths - so that he, on his own, would succumb and willingly serve her).

Always looking to please my customers - I wrote this one up! You're clearly a DUNE fan - and this one took me 11 minutes to write (after I looked up a few DUNE references to use). This one I feel is a bit silly, because of the (obvious) DUNE references (if you're a DUNE fan) - but who knows, this might be closer to what you want?

Enjoy!

Hi, I had a character I made for a one shot that I ended up really liking that I would like some of your awesome help fleshing out more.
Name: Arrakis Sandtrout
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: Hexblade1/Conquest7
Align: Lawful Evil
Flaws: selfish, allies are just a means to an end
Appearance: leathery taunt skin from the sun, blue on blue eyes, only has one wing left
Grew up in Zakhara, with character traits drawn heavily form the Fremen of the Dune series, if the name didn't give it away yet. Does not outright lie, but deals in half truths when needed.
As for the light backstory I already have from the one shot: due to his celestial heritage, Arrakis was kidnapped, raised, and then had his soul offered to Zariel by cultists. Thinking since he was already destined for hell, he'd rather not become a lemure. Therefore he decided to forge a new contract, where he would seek out worthy souls to fuel the blood war in exchange for better standing in the ranks of hell. This is also where he gained a level in hexblade, where the hexblade's curse appears as a brand of Zariel. To perform his duties to Zariel more efficiently, he poses as a lawful good paladin.
Any input would be welcome, though I specifically need help with how Arrakis would hide his true allegiance, or maybe he doesn't even need to?

I wanted to play up that Arrakis had a connection to angels (Aasimar), as does Zariel (formerly an angel).
I introduced a way that Arrakis is captured, and how he starts, very much a hero, and falls, broken by Zariel.
Hopefully this works for you! Please leave ANY feedback! Whether you like it, hate it, whatever - it helps keep the thread bumped!
As always -
Enjoy!
=========================================

Arrakis Sandtrout had once been a proud warrior.

Having been an Aasimar, people looked to him for leadership and inspiration. He led men through great wars, leading the charge time and time again.

But that was long ago. The wars have ended as has the glory.

Now, with one tattered wing, leathery taut skin, having spent all of his life in the barren dunes of Zakhara, Arrakis now sat inside ‘The Chaumurky’ reliving his life through drunken retellings that seemed more glorious than the last time he spun the story. Ah’leena, a female human, whose perfectly curved body had earned her a considerable amount of coin each night, sat on Arrakis’ lap. The two had formed a mutual agreement, where she would keep him company at night, if he provided the additional entertainment.

After several more drinks, and several more stories, Ah’leena took Arrakis’ hand and led him (fumbling as he was) up to her room, on the second floor of the tavern of questionable repute.

As she slipped out of her aba, a loose, black robe, that the ladies of the evening often wore, Arrakis reached into his tattered, unwashed cloak and provided the elacca spice; a highly addictive narcotic produced from the blood bush seed; which is soaked in alcohol, then boiled in water for no more than two minutes, then grinded down to a fine dust. The seed, normally lethal to those injected with it, in this powdered down form, created a euphoric high.

He traded his service of being “local protection” for the local gangs, in exchange for doses of the elacca spice. As he and Ah'leena took a small pinch and placed it under their tongues; their mouths tingled and burned, felt cold, then hot; and the two began kissing one another passionately, until that passion escalated to consensual, euphoric intercourse.

As he laid there, less than an hour later, his arm still lying across her bare, naked breast, as she slept peacefully next to him, Arrakis could once again see how, not only had the glory of war been lost to him; but somehow, the powers once bestowed upon him for being an Aasimar had also been revoked. The high he experienced allowed him to both forget and relive those days in his mind. But as the high wore off, those images, those feelings, remained and the need to forget them or relive them, surfaced, and created a vicious circle in his mind.

That morning, his door was suddenly kicked down, jarring his mind to a distorted sense of awareness as men and women, wearing black and red cloaks rushed into the room. When Ah’leena tried to stand, they simply pushed her down and grabbed Arrakis, placing a spell over him that rendered him unconscious.

When he awoke he was in a dark cave, with cultists having formed a circle around him, tied to a post in the center near a large bonfire, as they chanted.

The center bonfire came alive, as a woman, appearing as if she were riding a giant purple worm, burst through the flames. He wasn’t sure if the effects of elacca spice were still coursing through his veins; seeing a purple worm in the deserts of Zakhara was not uncommon (though, often usually the last thing someone saw). It was the woman – admittedly attractive – on top of the purple worm that had made him question his own sobriety.

She stepped off the purple worm and approached him. “Angel blood. I was once an angel, you know. I was once beautiful, skin of white, hair flowing like clouds, wings made of the wind.”

“I was told to watch the Blood War,” she continued, “watch. Watch and wait. I became obsessed with the war. We could finish the War. I wanted to. But they would not listen. So the War waged on and on, and so I watched. I saw the living, die brutally. I see the dying, left to rot. All sense of life faded from me as I began to lose sight of it. Soon I embraced the shadow. I embraced the darkness. I became what you see before you.”

“Zariel,” Arrakis whispered.

“Good,” she smiled from beneath her dark hood, “you know my name. I know yours as well. You were once a great warrior – now, you’ve lost your way, your friends, your glory,” she looked him over, “your wings, and even your powers.”

“If you plan to kill me, do it and get it over with,” Arrakis replied, uncaringly.

“Hardly,” she smiled back at the Aasimar. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What could you want with someone like me?” Arrakis barked.

“Oh,” she walked by, running her hand beneath his chin, “you are exactly what I need. You understand the glory of war. The thrill of battle. I need you, to go out there – and claim souls for me. The more pure, the more delicious, so that I can shape them and use them in the Blood War that rages on. I will bestow a portion of my power upon you, and make you what they call a Hexblade. Through that, you will claim souls for me. I will wipe your mind and body of the elacca addiction and give you the power you once had, and the will – and the reason – to fight again. Will you serve me?”

He looked at her. He had nothing. No one to disappoint. He had only himself.

There was nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

“I live, and die, to serve you,” he whispered.

She placed her hand under his chin and smiled, “And you will do all three.”

[theblindsaint]

Well, we still have to work. So we're not out of work. We're just being forced to do it remotely now, from home.



Easy there! I did not have anyone's penis chopped off and sent to their father and sister!

But I can see what you're saying - the endless torture. But what I was hoping to try and convey is that Arrakis made a promise to Bren’nahl that he would keep him (and his family safe) - so for months on end, Zariel showed Arrakis the only thing that would break him - his shattered promise being relived time and time again.

And unlike Theon/Reek, who became more of a timid mouse (well, except at his end scene), Arrakis (after reliving a broken promise repeatedly for months) simply because immune to compassion (and thus falls towards Lawful Evil) in his promise to serve Zariel. (And... I don't know if it was clear enough, but it was implied - that Zariel was lying when she said the Efreeti magic already bound his soul to her; this is why she continued to torture him with the vision of those deaths - so that he, on his own, would succumb and willingly serve her).

Always looking to please my customers - I wrote this one up! You're clearly a DUNE fan - and this one took me 11 minutes to write (after I looked up a few DUNE references to use). This one I feel is a bit silly, because of the (obvious) DUNE references (if you're a DUNE fan) - but who knows, this might be closer to what you want?

Enjoy!



I wanted to play up that Arrakis had a connection to angels (Aasimar), as does Zariel (formerly an angel).
I introduced a way that Arrakis is captured, and how he starts, very much a hero, and falls, broken by Zariel.
Hopefully this works for you! Please leave ANY feedback! Whether you like it, hate it, whatever - it helps keep the thread bumped!
As always -
Enjoy!
=========================================

Arrakis Sandtrout had once been a proud warrior.

Having been an Aasimar, people looked to him for leadership and inspiration. He led men through great wars, leading the charge time and time again.

But that was long ago. The wars have ended as has the glory.

Now, with one tattered wing, leathery taut skin, having spent all of his life in the barren dunes of Zakhara, Arrakis now sat inside ‘The Chaumurky’ reliving his life through drunken retellings that seemed more glorious than the last time he spun the story. Ah’leena, a female human, whose perfectly curved body had earned her a considerable amount of coin each night, sat on Arrakis’ lap. The two had formed a mutual agreement, where she would keep him company at night, if he provided the additional entertainment.

After several more drinks, and several more stories, Ah’leena took Arrakis’ hand and led him (fumbling as he was) up to her room, on the second floor of the tavern of questionable repute.

As she slipped out of her aba, a loose, black robe, that the ladies of the evening often wore, Arrakis reached into his tattered, unwashed cloak and provided the elacca spice; a highly addictive narcotic produced from the blood bush seed; which is soaked in alcohol, then boiled in water for no more than two minutes, then grinded down to a fine dust. The seed, normally lethal to those injected with it, in this powdered down form, created a euphoric high.

He traded his service of being “local protection” for the local gangs, in exchange for doses of the elacca spice. As he and Ah'leena took a small pinch and placed it under their tongues; their mouths tingled and burned, felt cold, then hot; and the two began kissing one another passionately, until that passion escalated to consensual, euphoric intercourse.

As he laid there, less than an hour later, his arm still lying across her bare, naked breast, as she slept peacefully next to him, Arrakis could once again see how, not only had the glory of war been lost to him; but somehow, the powers once bestowed upon him for being an Aasimar had also been revoked. The high he experienced allowed him to both forget and relive those days in his mind. But as the high wore off, those images, those feelings, remained and the need to forget them or relive them, surfaced, and created a vicious circle in his mind.

That morning, his door was suddenly kicked down, jarring his mind to a distorted sense of awareness as men and women, wearing black and red cloaks rushed into the room. When Ah’leena tried to stand, they simply pushed her down and grabbed Arrakis, placing a spell over him that rendered him unconscious.

When he awoke he was in a dark cave, with cultists having formed a circle around him, tied to a post in the center near a large bonfire, as they chanted.

The center bonfire came alive, as a woman, appearing as if she were riding a giant purple worm, burst through the flames. He wasn’t sure if the effects of elacca spice were still coursing through his veins; seeing a purple worm in the deserts of Zakhara was not uncommon (though, often usually the last thing someone saw). It was the woman – admittedly attractive – on top of the purple worm that had made him question his own sobriety.

She stepped off the purple worm and approached him. “Angel blood. I was once an angel, you know. I was once beautiful, skin of white, hair flowing like clouds, wings made of the wind.”

“I was told to watch the Blood War,” she continued, “watch. Watch and wait. I became obsessed with the war. We could finish the War. I wanted to. But they would not listen. So the War waged on and on, and so I watched. I saw the living, die brutally. I see the dying, left to rot. All sense of life faded from me as I began to lose sight of it. Soon I embraced the shadow. I embraced the darkness. I became what you see before you.”

“Zariel,” Arrakis whispered.

“Good,” she smiled from beneath her dark hood, “you know my name. I know yours as well. You were once a great warrior – now, you’ve lost your way, your friends, your glory,” she looked him over, “your wings, and even your powers.”

“If you plan to kill me, do it and get it over with,” Arrakis replied, uncaringly.

“Hardly,” she smiled back at the Aasimar. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What could you want with someone like me?” Arrakis barked.

“Oh,” she walked by, running her hand beneath his chin, “you are exactly what I need. You understand the glory of war. The thrill of battle. I need you, to go out there – and claim souls for me. The more pure, the more delicious, so that I can shape them and use them in the Blood War that rages on. I will bestow a portion of my power upon you, and make you what they call a Hexblade. Through that, you will claim souls for me. I will wipe your mind and body of the elacca addiction and give you the power you once had, and the will – and the reason – to fight again. Will you serve me?”

He looked at her. He had nothing. No one to disappoint. He had only himself.

There was nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

“I live, and die, to serve you,” he whispered.

She placed her hand under his chin and smiled, “And you will do all three.”

Thank you alot, while the Dune references were a bit on the nose, they were indeed more inline with what I had envisioned. If I draw on elements of both the first and second versions, I do have a pretty solid idea of my characters backstory now. Specifically, the first half of the first one, and the second half of the second one, with some additionally character building with my dm and myself to bridge the two. I actually didn't; catch the part where Zariel was lying, but from what I understand of Zariel, she wasn't the type of devil that relied on deceit as evidenced by her lack of politics ability, but more focused on might and domination. I believe all that is left is for this character to organically grow further in future campaigns.

[Skayaq]

Name: Uthak "Skywatcher"
Race: Male Goliath
Class: Sorcerer - Storm sorcery
Diety: Kord

The rough idea i have is for him to leave his clan to learn to control his new powers, but i don't have any idea for how he would get his powers.

I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

[Tawmis]

Name: Uthak "Skywatcher"
Race: Male Goliath
Class: Sorcerer - Storm sorcery
Diety: Kord
The rough idea i have is for him to leave his clan to learn to control his new powers, but i don't have any idea for how he would get his powers.
I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Consider this added to the list!

[Ogre Mage]

Hi Tawmis. This is a character I started playing recently and am curious as to your take. It is in Eberron using the recently published sourcebook Eberron: Rising from The Last War. Thelanis is the Faerie Court (feywild) in Eberron.

Name: Serellia
Setting: Eberron
Class: Warlock 3 (Archfey, Pact of the Chain)
Race: Half-Elf
Gender: Female
Background: Guild Merchant
Alignment: Neutral
Eldritch Invocations: Agonizing Blast, Voice of the Chain Master.
Str 10, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 18.

Character concept: Serellia grew up in the eastern part of the Eldeen Reaches. It is rural farmlands which used to be part of Aundair before The Last War. Her parents are half-elven merchants who sold goods to the farmers in the Eldeen Reaches. But she had dreams of becoming a wizard. She applied to Arcanix (the most prestigious magic college in Eberron). But she was rejected three times -- her Intelligence 10 was too mediocre. Frustrated, she began researching how she could make a pact with an archfey. The vast forests of the Eldeen Reaches contained several portals to Thelanis. She encountered agents of a powerful archfey of the Summer Court. They offered to take her to Thelanis to meet their master. And so she went ...

She now has a pseudodragon familiar named Bright Flame.

[Tawmis]

Hi Tawmis. This is a character I started playing recently and am curious as to your take. It is in Eberron using the recently published sourcebook Eberron: Rising from The Last War. Thelanis is the Faerie Court (feywild) in Eberron.
Name: Serellia
Setting: Eberron
Class: Warlock 3 (Archfey, Pact of the Chain)
Race: Half-Elf

Added!

Tortle Shepherd Druid: Like all Gatekeepers you walk the lands protecting it from those creatures that don’t belong within it, ensuring the ancient seals under the oldest of druid seals remain closed when others have forgotten they were even there. A bit monk like. His personality hasn’t revealed himself to me yet, although his name (maybe) Kwali gives a Hawaiian vibe. Spritely for an older guy, and lean for a tortle. Gives off a monk vibe.

Heh, so tonight I am playing in a D&D oneshot in Discord with my usual D&D group...
It's a oneshot because we're testing how it goes on Discord, for our regular games until this whole C19 thing goes away.
So, for this session, my friend (who is new to DMing, she's got two sessions under her belt) wanted to give this a swing.
So she asked us to make characters - roll them up to level 5 - and have a background.
So I made a Ranger, favored enemy is undead, and wrote in this whole Necromancer background...
That clearly influenced what happened here.
Hopefully it works for you and gives you and your DM a Necromancer and his mysterious goal to work with.
As always, please provide feedback - as that keeps this thread bumped and alive (even if it's "I love it" or "I hate it").
As always!
Enjoy!
==============================================


Many considered Tortles to be inferior in intelligence than other standard humanoids that walked the lands, simply because at times, they spoke slowly, or took their time considering their actions. In truth, Tortles simply liked to examine every possibility and the consequences of each of those possible actions, before concluding what might be the best course of action.

Kwali had been wandering the lands when he was young; in search of his destiny, when he came across a magnificent lake in the middle of the forest, like none he’d ever seen before. Almost instantly, several types of fey creatures made their presence known to him; ready to defend the lake, but he’d assured them that he sensed great power here and he meant to protect it. Weeks spent around the lake soon allowed him to begin to communicate the spirits of the forest – spirit wolves which ran messages, and howled in a manner that only those attuned to them could hear. They were frequently used as a means of alerting danger to the other fey in the woods.

Those who might see Kwali around the lake might think he’d lost his mind, as he frequently seemed to talk – even argue – with the air around him. But if they could see through his eyes, they might see him scolding a spirit bear, assuring the bear that the visitors of the lake meant no harm and there was no need to “rend them to pieces.”

Travelers frequently stopped at the lake as they were passing through the woods; though most were not mystically tuned to realize the magic aurora that the lake provided. Somewhere, near the bottom of this large lake, there was something beautiful and magical. Kwali never searched for it. He never needed to know what it was. So long as he felt its presence, he was satisfied.

One of the travelers who had stopped by the lake, with a small caravan of people, had spotted Kwali pacing around the lake, his hands folded behind his back and approached him. “Are you the guardian of this lake?” the battered human asked.

“Guardian?” Kwali smiled, “No. There is nothing here to guard,” he added, trying to assure there was nothing magical about the lake to someone who might be curious.

“That is good then,” the human said, as he wiped blood from his brow. “Me and my people, we came from Lakeford, where our town was attacked by a Necromancer who claimed some magical artifact was buried in a lake and he was going to turn every lake upside down and bleed them dry until he found it. We,” he gestured to the caravan, “are the only survivors of a town of three people.”

Kwali looked over and saw approximately thirty people and raised his tortle eyes in surprise.

“So if there truly is nothing to defend here, I would recommend leaving here before he shows up here with his undead army.”

As the days passed, more and more people came to the lake and stopped for rest and fresh water; most of them shared a similar story – various lake towns being attacked by a Necromancer and an undead army.

“I must do something,” Kwali said to himself. “I can not hope to stop a Necromancer and an undead army myself. I must find others to align with and put a stop to this Necromancer.”

[KyleG]

Thanks mate, a great idea with some wiggle room to incorporate our own flair. Maybe one day I'll get to try out more of these ideas. Cheers

[evilspacecow]

Need help with a new character.

He is a Male High Elf Bladesinger Wizard. Due to some things from our other story, the town he lives in becomes a police state run by humans that did not like other races. He needs to end up in jail for something (can be as simple as being an elf), because the game is starting when he got freed but something our other characters did. I plan on playing him as a front line wizard wielding a single Elven Thinblade. He does not have high charisma (10) or strength (9). I really just need something before the police state, what he was doing as a high elf wizard in this town, and the reason he gets arrested. Thanks!!

Consider this added.

If you have not started, I have a few things I had to add this weekend to get our session started. His name is Morathil Faerntelvel. He was part of a traveling circus that got framed for murder and put in jail b/c he was the non-human new person in town. He loves money (either because he was poor or because he comes from a rich family).

I still would like help fleshing out his background more if you could. Thanks for the help.

[Ortho]

Hello Tawmis,
I've got a character that I've been playing for a while and I've never bothered to flesh out his backstory. Think you can help with that?

Piklokken, an Illusion Wizard, is a complete pacifist; under no circumstances will he physically harm another creature. He doesn't even know any damage spells! Instead, he focuses on illusions, buffs/debuffs, and other battlefield control spells. He's a middle-aged (read: ~300 year old) 7'4" Loxodon whose normal outfit consists of a longcoat, goggles, and a Derby hat. Currently, his place of residence is a large city situated in the middle of the ocean.

Name: Piklokken
Class: Illusion Wizard 11
Race: Loxodon
Gender: Male
Background: Inheritor (I've an idea that he inherited his code of ethics, not anything physical.)
Alignment: Neutral Good Upon reflection, adhering to a code is Lawful Good.

Setting: Homebrew, but think proto-Ebberon. Lightning rails, skyscrapers, lifts, and guns are all recent inventions, and air travel is on the cusp of being invented.

[stormsouldevil]

Hey folks! I was curious and so Ive put together what appears to be "THE LIST" In order of date posted.

This is entirely not from the man himself and I am both sleepy and prone to mistakes... so, grain of salt.

1.) evilspacecow
2.) Foxydono
3.) Richardbob
4.) Man_Over_Game
5.) stormsouldevil
6.) Skayaq
7.) Ogre Mage
8.) mjp1050

[Tawmis]

If you have not started, I have a few things I had to add this weekend to get our session started. His name is Morathil Faerntelvel. He was part of a traveling circus that got framed for murder and put in jail b/c he was the non-human new person in town. He loves money (either because he was poor or because he comes from a rich family).

I still would like help fleshing out his background more if you could. Thanks for the help.

Yours is next - so most excellent timing!

Piklokken, an Illusion Wizard, is a complete pacifist; under no circumstances will he physically harm another creature. He doesn't even know any damage spells! Instead, he focuses on illusions, buffs/debuffs, and other battlefield control spells. He's a middle-aged (read: ~300 year old) 7'4" Loxodon whose normal outfit consists of a longcoat, goggles, and a Derby hat. Currently, his place of residence is a large city situated in the middle of the ocean.

Added!

Hey folks! I was curious and so Ive put together what appears to be "THE LIST" In order of date posted.

This is entirely not from the man himself and I am both sleepy and prone to mistakes... so, grain of salt.

1.) evilspacecow
2.) Foxydono
3.) Richardbob
4.) Man_Over_Game
5.) stormsouldevil
6.) Skayaq
7.) Ogre Mage
8.) mjp1050

That is actually exactly right!

Need help with a new character.
He is a Male High Elf Bladesinger Wizard. Due to some things from our other story, the town he lives in becomes a police state run by humans that did not like other races. He needs to end up in jail for something (can be as simple as being an elf), because the game is starting when he got freed but something our other characters did. I plan on playing him as a front line wizard wielding a single Elven Thinblade. He does not have high charisma (10) or strength (9). I really just need something before the police state, what he was doing as a high elf wizard in this town, and the reason he gets arrested.

EDIT: If you have not started, I have a few things I had to add this weekend to get our session started. His name is Morathil Faerntelvel. He was part of a traveling circus that got framed for murder and put in jail because he was the non-human new person in town. He loves money (either because he was poor or because he comes from a rich family).

I still would like help fleshing out his background more if you could. Thanks for the help. Thanks!!

So I did the story with his name, and him traveling with the circus...
And just why he might be traveling with the circus...
The love of money doesn't play too much into the backstory I wrote (in depth)...
But can easily be seen as he knows his father threw money at whatever he wanted... So he may think that's how the world simply works.
I am not sure if the reason for the circus travel fits...
Or perhaps it's something your DM can use in the campaign...
I tried to leave it vague (as I do explaining which weapons you end up using, since I wasn't sure; but implied you at least trained with swords... but then went on to train later on your own if you wanted to go with a different weapon)...

As always, not only do I appreciate ANY feedback, it ALSO helps keep the thread bumped and alive!
So please leave ANY feedback you have!
And as always...

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


Morathil Faerntelvel sat in the prison cell wondering how his life had led to where he was. Born into royalty, Morathil was doted on by his fathers who, at a very young age, provided Morathil with whatever he had wanted. At the age of six, he’d seen the Royal Wizards and wanted to learn how to become powerful in magic as they had. So his father, without pause or concern for cost, employed some of the most respected mages to teach Morathil the use of studying the arcane arts and learning to manipulate the very fabric of magic that existed around them.

By the age of thirteen, he had sworn he’d already learned all he could about magic, despite what his tutors insisted. Morathil’s next interest came in the form of weapons. Magic was fine, but in a close fight, he would need steel to keep him alive. Yet again, his father without pause or concern for cost employed the greatest of the warriors to train Morathil with sword and shield.

At the age of sixteen, Morathil had been approached by Douran Silversky, his father’s most trusted advisor. “Morathil,” he said, staring at the young boy. “I’ve watched you grow from infant to where you are now; I’ve seen you learn to use magic, just as I’ve seen you learn to wield magic. Most eventually pick one over the other –but there is a potential in you that I see that makes you different.”

Morathil had always liked Douran; he’d always seem friendly enough with his purplish hair and hazel green eyes. He’d been at his father’s side since he’d been born. Morathil could even swear he remembered Douran being there when he was born.

“What do you mean something special in me?” Morathil asked.

“If I tell you, you must be sworn to secrecy in the things I can teach you,” Douran said sternly.

“I promise,” Morathil retorted.

“Break this vow and I will be forced to you kill you,” Douran emphasized.

Morathil waited for Douran to laugh, as if it were some joke, but when he did not laugh, Morathil cleared his throat, and more softly whispered, “I promise.”

“Not even your father can know,” Douran said.

This shocked Morathil – that there might be something his father’s advisor would hide from him?

For the next eight weeks, Douran began teaching Morathil the ability of bladesinging; which required more finesse and performance that Morathil had ever been used to. It reminded him of the Opera that his father would drag him to, because his mother loved it so much. There was spinning and dancing, singing, and learning to make the weapon not just a weapon – but an extension of who he was.

After the eight weeks, Morathil trained on his own and would, from time to time, check in with Douran, who without fail, scolded him for things he was doing wrong; no matter how trivial the mistakes. Whether it was just the way he held the blade slightly off, or missed a line in the song that he sang that wove the magic around him, Douran was not shy telling the king’s son how to do better next time.

When his father called for his guards to help escort a circus that would be carrying a relic to a faraway town in need of it’s magic – he knew he needed someone he could trust. The circus would be a cover for moving the relic among humans, who would not suspect the circus as anything more than entertainment. The human alliance promised to protect the relic, but the king wanted some of his own men to travel with it.

To Morathil’s surprise, even as a row of the king’s most trusted guards stood before him, Douran leaned over to the King and whispered Morathil’s name. The king, shocked, looked at his most trusted advisor as if he’d gone made.

“It would be good for him to see the world,” Douran said, “so the day he takes the throne, he will know what kind of world exists beyond the walls. Besides,” he shrugged with a smile, “I have it on good authority, despite these others who have spent years in your service, Morathil is the most qualified to defend the relic.”

This had been the first time since Morathil had begun training with Douran that the royal advisor had paid him any compliment.

The King thought about it; considered it – if there was anyone he trusted more than Douran, it was his own son, Morathil. The king nodded and called his son forward explaining that he would accompany the circus and keep guard.

The circus arrived in Greenhaven, where the relic was placed in a locked container. Morathil left with the festive circus and from town to town, people gathered and cheered at the risky stunts, the wild animals, the incredible sights the circus offered.

It was six weeks into this, when something had gone wrong. Morathil noticed several individuals creeping around the edge of one of the tents. He casually approached them, expecting them to be children trying to sneak it (not the first time he had to scare away children) – but this time, it had been grown men, who upon seeing Morathil drew their weapons. A fight ensued, and very quickly Morathil cut down three of the four men – the fourth one ran, screaming for help.

When the local authorities arrived, Morathil did not run; he explained what he had observed and how the men drew weapons on him. The fourth man who had escaped claimed that Morathil’s story was a lie; that the four men had been, admittedly drunk when Morathil approached them and drew his weapon. The others stumbled to defend themselves but were cut down.

The local authorities arrested Morathil, and as they took him away, he glanced inside the tent and saw a human – one he did not recognize, opening the sacred chest with the relic. When he saw Morathil, he only smiled as he pocketed the relic. Morathil struggled against the bonds, only infuriating the local authorities more.

And this, Morathil realized, was how he ended up in the prison of a city full of humans, wondering how he would get out of this one…

Hi, I would like to have a character background written up! I do already have some basic information which can be used. We are starting in Hoard of the Dragon Queen.

First off, it’s a Yuan ti pureblood called: Don Guan (alignment LN). He was born and raised in Ss'thar'tiss'ssun, located in Najara, just below the Serpent Hills and above the Wyvern Forest in Fearun.
Another important part of his history is that he was married and his wife laid some eggs. Unfortunately, a green dragon came, who killed his wife and ate all the eggs. Don Guan vowed to kill all evil dragons, especially green ones.

However, he realized that his power fell short when confronted with such a mighty creature. He came to the conclusion that only with preparation and tactics he would be able to slay these mighty beasts. So he became a Conquest Paladin in service of The Red Knight.

Any help with further developing his backstory is much appreciated!

This was too easy to write! Whenever I use Emereth (who is a ancient green dragon from my game; that I have historically used in several of my character backgrounds for the DM's to use if they wanted) - when I started doing these, I injected Emereth into several people's backgrounds - and the more that I write her, the more I love her (for how vicious she is) and how easy it is to make her the reason a hero is born - with the desire to put her (and her children) six feet under, burning forever in the Planes of Hell!)
Hopefully this works for you! Despite me enjoying the writing of this; if this doesn't work for you - let me know!
Any and all feedback is appreciated! Replies to this thread keep it bumped and alive and stop the admins from dinging me if I have to force bump it myself!
So yeah - I loved writing it - but let me know your thoughts!
And as always, at the very least, I hope you...
Enjoy!
================================================== ===========================

The sun beat down against the swamp’s moist tarp, made of foliage, moss and woven branches and leaves, as if hiding what lie beneath from the prying eyes of the sun and moon.

Below the canopy of tree tops, where cypress trees, black gum trees, juniper trees and water ash trees created a prison for any who might be foolish enough to enter; the swamp was alive with black bears, white-tailed deer, opossums, raccoons and cottonmouth snakes; just to name a few. Among those living in the swamps, included the Naga and the Lizardpeople, who often feuded over territory in the stagnant, arid swamps.

But beneath it all, lay another hidden mystery. Ss'thar'tiss'ssun, a long forgotten temple to the ancient Snake God, now buried beneath the swamp; a once, glorious, enormous temple, was now flooded, and passages were used as waterways as the race known as the Yaun-Ti Purebloods make this sunken temple their home, going to the surface rarely to hunt, finding no allies in either the lizardpeople (who did not trust them) or the Naga (who had wanted to reclaim Ss'thar'tiss'ssun as their own).

Don Guan had been one of the Yaun-Ti Purebloods who called the sunken temple his home. He had recently found a Yaun-Ti named Zmija, whom he had grown very fond of. He had brought her and her mother spoils from hunting, feeding them before feeding himself. When Zmija’s mother died of natural causes, Zmija and Don Guan grew much closer; with Don Guan eventually marrying her in the sacred Yaun-Ti fashion. It’d been a short while later when Zmija had just laid eggs and Don Guan was thrilled to know soon he would have his own spawn walking the world.

However, unbeknownst to him, he’d been followed by a Naga named Badami who discovered the secret entrance to Ss'thar'tiss'ssun… but now he needed a way to drive the Yaun-Ti from their home if he had any hope of taking it over as his own. He developed the perfect plan. Not too far away, the Forest of Wyrms was just to the south, and said to be populated with Dragonkin. Though it was risky, Badami moved through the swamp and entered the Forest of Wyrms, where he was quickly greeted by a massive green dragon, larger than any he’d ever seen.

“Why does a foolish Naga tiptoe into the Forest of Wyrms,” she asked, the slits in her eyes narrowing as she brought her large muzzle near him; her front teeth nearly as large and wide as him. “Does it come to die a painful death? Tell Emereth. Tell Emerethy why it’s so foolish?”

Badami bowed, “Great green dragon, Emereth, I have heard of you; the Emerald Terror of the Skies. I come to share a secret with you.”

“Emereth knows all,” she growled, “what could a puny Naga know that Emereth does not?”

“I have recently learned of where the Kingdom of the Snake lies,” Badami said, keeping his eyes averted. He waited for death to come at any moment.

“What does Emereth care for the fallen kingdom of snakes?” the green dragon hissed, her hot breath nearly making it impossible for Badami to breathe.

“Because of what I have seen,” Badami replied.

“Oh? What has the little Naga seen with their puny little eyes?”

Badami looked up, meeting Emereth’s gaze. “Treasure. Lost. Forgotten. Treasure.” He said, emphasizing each of the words.

At this Emereth perked. “What need have I for treasure? So much have I, that I keep it in a thousand locations.”

“If not the treasure, the ancient relics,” Badami lied. “Ancient weapons. Ancient armor. Supposedly made to end the era of dragons – some call it ‘the dragon killers.’”

“The dragon killers?” Emereth reared her head up, snapping trees, which she had barely noticed due to her massive size. “Dragon killers,” she laid her head near Badami. “Do you think weapons can kill me?”

“No,” Badami said, “but the Yaun-Ti have been collecting them. I believe they mean to lead an assault against all dragonkin. They could never kill you, Emerald Terror of the Sky – but you have children do you not? Children who are not as powerful as you.”

Emereth’s eyes narrowed so that the slits were barely visible. Badami had struck a chord.

“Where is this hidden kingdom?”

Badami smiled.


When Emereth came, she dug through the swamp land, and tore open the top of the Ss'thar'tiss'ssun pyramid, so that the swamp began to pour into it. “Where is it?” she boomed, her claws rending the stone apart. She breathed her noxious, poisonous breath – and the Yaun-Ti unsure and unprepared began to flee in terror.

But Emereth did not quit. She continued to dig and rend at Ss'thar'tiss'ssun.

It’d been several hours when Don Guan returned from hunting and saw everything was different – the entire landscape had changed, and just as his mind tried to comprehend what had happened, he saw a massive green dragon departing – one bigger than any he’d ever seen before. He dropped his trappings and raced for Ss'thar'tiss'ssun – quickly swimming to the area he and his wife had called home – and that’s where he found her – crouched over the nest of broken eggs – a large slab of stone on top of her, nearly snapping her body in half.

Don Guan howled in fury and grabbed his weapons and without stopping to consider his actions marched in the direction the green dragon had flown – the Forest of Wyrms. As soon as he reached the edge of the forest he called out the name of the dragon who he knew – from reputation alone – who was responsible.

“Emereth! Your time is at hand!”

She burst through the woods, snapping trees out of the way, like an ogre might snap a twig. “Oh, one of the proclaimed dragon killers rises?”

Don Guan knew not what she meant about ‘dragon killers.’ He clenched his fists, “You killed my children before they could be born. You killed my wife. And I will have my revenge!”

Emereth laughed; a laugh so loud it rattled Don Guan’s bones. Furious he charged, but one claw slammed him down and pinned him beneath her claws. She leaned forward, her noxious breath replacing his oxygen. “Dragon killer indeed.” She took him and thoughtlessly flung him like a discarded toy, and Don Guan landed in the nearby river, the breath knocked out of him, as he drifted, lapsing in and out of consciousness.

When he fully recovered, he was in a small human town in the foothills of Greycloak Hills. “What happened to me?” he asked as he painfully sat up.

A Paladin sat next to him, “Easy, son. Looks like something ripped you apart pretty good. When we found you were weren’t sure if you would survive. “

“Emereth,” Don Guan whispered.

The humans cast uneasy glances at one another.

“You’ve seen her?” the human asked.

“She’s in the Forest of Wyrms. She usually goes there to lay her eggs,” Don Guan said; and that reminded him of another memory that clung to his mind like a distant fading cloud in the sunrise – his wife, the eggs – they were gone. “They’re gone,” he wept. “She took everything from me.”

“She took everything from all of us,” the human explained. “We,” he gestured around him, “are various survivors of Emereth’s attacks. Few live to ever speak of meeting her. I can teach you the ways – our ways.”

“What ways is that?”

“We are a fractured portion of the Red Knights,” the human said.

Knowing that his family – even his home – and potentially all of his people were gone, Don Guan agreed.

[stormsouldevil]

1.) evilspacecow
2.) Foxydono
3.) Richardbob
4.) Man_Over_Game
5.) stormsouldevil
6.) Skayaq
7.) Ogre Mage
8.) mjp1050

Reposted just so that Tawmis can post new backstories without having to update/double post.

Also went ahead and donated a bit, this is a wonderful service you are running.

And had some edits about what I think my character is like and her backstory.

Backstory is editing the family business to logging, the survivalism came in handy but their primary source of funds was their willingness to venture deeper into the forest for good timber, though they often had paid employees it was an all hands on deck venture for most of her life. Now that her older sister is running a fully established business it's much more self sufficient.

Her story with the bear totem (I'm thinking about going full Bear, as the campaign is level 3-16 and Im the only real melee character (We have a monk and a cleric but they are definitely NOT front liners. No one is playing a real squishy character, but a LOT of D8s and my 1 D12 HD) is a bit more mythical. One winter (about 13 years old) they were out long into the winter, seperated and lost from her convoy after a goblin attack she was persumed dead until she came back in the spring. She claimed to have found refuge with a Bear, but since then shes been changed. As if she drinks more deeply from the cup of life. Wilder, but kinder. Angrier, but happier.


She (or he, Im not super tied down on gender) is kind of a warrior of the people. She grew up in a home and among people who shared freely what they had and she has little patience for the scheming and often brutal policies in cities, and barely an understanding of why those with so much have so much while many more have so little. She helps where she can, with a spare coin or bit of bread for most of the hungry and destitute she runs into. Those that fear to, she plays to being more orcish and more "barbaric", though for the vulnerable and children she always has a smile and a warm greeting.

This change comes a bit from spending most of my weekend blaring Flogging Molly in my head phones. ^_^

[Tawmis]

Reposted just so that Tawmis can post new backstories without having to update/double post.

I feel like I have my own official assistant!

Also went ahead and donated a bit, this is a wonderful service you are running.

I got your donation! Thank you very much!
As a result (and a way of saying thanks) what I've been doing is those who donate jump to the front if they have a pending request - it's sort of my way of doing a "Patreon" without actually doing a Patreon thing! So I will work on yours next!

New Order

1.) stormsouldevil
2.) Richardbob
3.) Man_Over_Game
4.) Skayaq
5.) Ogre Mage
6.) mjp1050

And had some edits about what I think my character is like and her backstory.
Backstory is editing the family business to logging, the survivalist came in handy but their primary source of funds was their willingness to venture deeper into the forest for good timber, though they often had paid employees it was an all hands on deck venture for most of her life. Now that her older sister is running a fully established business it's much more self sufficient.
Her story with the bear totem (I'm thinking about going full Bear, as the campaign is level 3-16 and Im the only real melee character (We have a monk and a cleric but they are definitely NOT front liners. No one is playing a real squishy character, but a LOT of D8s and my 1 D12 HD) is a bit more mythical. One winter (about 13 years old) they were out long into the winter, seperated and lost from her convoy after a goblin attack she was presumed dead until she came back in the spring. She claimed to have found refuge with a Bear, but since then shes been changed. As if she drinks more deeply from the cup of life. Wilder, but kinder. Angrier, but happier.
She (or he, Im not super tied down on gender) is kind of a warrior of the people. She grew up in a home and among people who shared freely what they had and she has little patience for the scheming and often brutal policies in cities, and barely an understanding of why those with so much have so much while many more have so little. She helps where she can, with a spare coin or bit of bread for most of the hungry and destitute she runs into. Those that fear to, she plays to being more orcish and more "barbaric", though for the vulnerable and children she always has a smile and a warm greeting.
This change comes a bit from spending most of my weekend blaring Flogging Molly in my head phones. ^_^

Cool. I will add these details to my notes and work on it now. (About to start a remote D&D game; but will see if I can knock it out before it starts)

[stormsouldevil]

I could smell the question.... and figured that if I was adding a post it might as well be useful, then I remembered I got a bunch of notes.

[Tawmis]

I could smell the question.... and figured that if I was adding a post it might as well be useful, then I remembered I got a bunch of notes.

Yeah; I sent ya a DM about where to find the info on the Bear Totem Barbarian. I can find a lot of people talking about it. But not the actual stats for what it grants. Just want to make sure I write something that fits the background.

[stormsouldevil]

derp derp. I missed the new message notification. Replied.

[Tawmis]

derp derp. I missed the new message notification. Replied.

And here is the result...

Half-Orc Barbarian
Totem of the Bear
http://dnd5e.wikidot.com/barbarian:totem-warrior
Name: Rasuna Auravar

Got a new character I’m rolling up, and got most of it done....

Half Orc barbarian. And what they lack in original character concept I wanted to make up in backstory. Instead of the normal sexual violence cliché and "I WAS RAISED BY WOLVES!" I wanted to go with a happy home life and more of a commune with nature type of warrior. (And yes I did go bear totem, because bears are awesome, and DR to almost everything is awesome. Also despite adoring the concept this is the first chance I’ve had to run a barbarian in 5e for more than a few sessions.)

Messing around with Xanather’s Guide to Everything .... I got that.... I just feel like I got a little too much that.

In her own words

"My father and mother fell in love when he ventured from orc lands with the hopes of trading and hunting. Instead he decided to settle with my human mother. The Village would only tolerate so much, so instead they moved into the wilderness. My human grandparents helped with what they could and soon we had a large home. My father hunted and the excess pelts and meats sold well in the village.

I am the 7th of 9 children. My older brothers and sisters run the family business or work in the village (that has largely grown accustomed to us) while my mother and father have entered a sort of retirement though he has since passed.

Myself, I am the most fearsome of my family. At a young age I fell into a cave with a bear. I grabbed a tree branch and beat it to death. Since that moment I've had a call for the wild and an urge to wander. My father had heard tell of this rage and helped me learn to master it. My oldest sister took me into the woods and forests for days, but finally I had to see the world. For the last 3 years I have been a wandering warrior.”

-Rasuna Auravar

Family and ages-
- Kraiz, died at 45 in his sleep 5 years ago
- Jodis, 48

- Tamozi: 31, f Hunter/Trapper
- Ingun: 29, f, Town guard
- Orest: 26, m Hunter/Trapper
- Ureg: 23 f, Hunter/Trapper
- Agamok: 22, m Caravan guard
- Bruni: 20yo, M Forest guide
- Rasuna: 19, F, Barbarian/Warrior Forest guide
- Herdis: 18 f, Bounty hunter
- Zurimak: 17 m, training to be a Hunter/Trapper

And had some edits about what I think my character is like and her backstory.

Backstory is editing the family business to logging, the survivalist came in handy but their primary source of funds was their willingness to venture deeper into the forest for good timber, though they often had paid employees it was an all hands on deck venture for most of her life. Now that her older sister is running a fully established business it's much more self-sufficient.

Her story with the bear totem (I'm thinking about going full Bear, as the campaign is level 3-16 and I’m the only real melee character (We have a monk and a cleric but they are definitely NOT front liners. No one is playing a real squishy character, but a LOT of D8s and my 1 D12 HD) is a bit more mythical. One winter (about 13 years old) they were out long into the winter, separated and lost from her convoy after a goblin attack she was presumed dead until she came back in the spring. She claimed to have found refuge with a Bear, but since then she’s been changed. As if she drinks more deeply from the cup of life. Wilder, but kinder. Angrier, but happier.

She (or he, I’m not super tied down on gender) is kind of a warrior of the people. She grew up in a home and among people who shared freely what they had and she has little patience for the scheming and often brutal policies in cities, and barely an understanding of why those with so much have so much while many more have so little. She helps where she can, with a spare coin or bit of bread for most of the hungry and destitute she runs into. Those that fear to, she plays to being more orcish and more "barbaric", though for the vulnerable and children she always has a smile and a warm greeting.
This change comes a bit from spending most of my weekend blaring Flogging Molly in my head phones. ^_^

I think it's a little longer than what I normally do...
But I needed a way for Jordis and Kraiz to somehow not only come together...
But enough that they could over look one another's personal differences and appearances...
Something powerful had to happen.
And then I introduced Emereth (not sure if you've read other back stories; but she's a ancient green dragon for many of my campaigns, that I've used here in people's backstories)...
And every time I write Emereth, I easily get lost...
And then I needed the Bear Totem aspect...
Some fun notes...
If you're an ElfQuest fan... the Bearclaw Tribe is indeed a reference to Bearclaw from ElfQuest... Seemed fitting. (He's one of my favorite characters... and since we needed a bear reference...)
And the name of the Bear Spirit... it's actually Bearclaw's soul name from ElfQuest...
Kraiz's sister (I introduce) is the soul name of Joyleaf, Bearclaw's wife in ElfQuest.
I feel like, as I said, this is longer...
But man did I enjoy writing this.
I didn't get to everything (the grandparents)... I eluded to the lumber (near the end during the goblin attack)...
I hope you enjoy this!
Again, thank you for the donation!
And as always...
Enjoy!
==============================================

The caravan of human settlers creaked and wined as it moved along the bumpy path that barely passed as a road, as it rounded the final turn coming out of the Greystone Mountains into the forest known as Greenhaven.

Just as the wagons drew near the forest’s edge, where they would camp for the night, several figures emerged from the forest’s edge. They were too large, too muscular to be elves. “Can anyone see what…”

“Orcs,” one of the patrol men said. “About thirty of them.”

A panic slowly made its way through the caravan like a gentle wave washing over them. There was no way they could turn the caravan around in time. Most in the caravan were settlers; farmers looking for a new place to call home. The orcs would slaughter them.

The human who had identified the orcs, who now formed a line at the forest’s edge and had not moved, shook his head. “We have to fight. If we turn this caravan around they will rush us from behind.”

“Fight?” Barek, the leader of the caravan asked in disbelief. “There’s thirty of them and twenty of us. Most of our twenty are farmers.”

“Not all of us will have to fight,” the human guard, Darius replied. “We only need a few to keep them busy so that the others can turn the caravan around and buy them time to escape.”

“I can’t allow that,” Barek said, though he did not know any other option.

Barek’s daughter, Jodis poked her head out of the caravan. “Have we tried to talk to them?”

“Talk? To orcs?” Darius laughed as he glanced nervously at the orcs. “They know only war and bloodshed.”

“Then why haven’t they attacked?” Jodis asked as she stepped over the seat to sit next to her father. “They’re just… watching us.”

“They want to see if we’re going to do a frontal attack – which they probably have archers in the tree tops waiting for,” Barek the guard explained, “or to see if we’re going to try and turn and flee; knowing we would be going uphill on the trail, or back would be to them, we’d be slow and they know we’re exhausted. They’ve probably been watching us since we were in Greystone.”

As Barek and Darius discussed their options, trying at the same time to keep the settlers calm (some were already beginning to try to turn their wagons around), Jodis, unnoticed slipped off her father’s wagon and began walking towards the orcs. Jodis was about seventeen; though disheveled in her appearance, she had a striking figure, beautiful eyes, and gorgeous reddish-orange hair when she let it down.

She was well within sixty feet of the orcs, when her father noticed she wasn’t sitting next to him and frantically looked around and saw her lone figure walking towards the orcs. He stood and screamed for her, but she did not turn around. Darius drew his sword and shouted, “We shall go get her.”

“No!” her father screamed. “If the orcs see armed men rushing them they will strike her down.”

“You can’t be serious? You are going to let her go to them?” Darius argued. He’d long had a crush on Jodis, but never confessed his feelings for her or to her father.

A volley of arrows landed in front of Jodis, who paused for a moment, then continued to walk eventually coming face to face with the orc chieftain.

“You are a brave human,” he growled. “Are you some witch or warlock? Know that my archers are ready to take you down. Turn around human and go back to your people. Tell them to leave Greenhaven and never come back.”

Jodis looked at the muscular orc, whose light green skin was hidden beneath a bear cloak, whose bear head rested upon his, its maw open wide; the bottom row of teeth lying near his chest. His yellow eyes were nearly hidden in the shadows of the bear hood. Yellow paint or tattoos lined his face in intricate patterns.

“My people lost everything,” Jodis explained, “there is nothing to go back to.”

“I care nothing for you and your human problems,” the chieftain retorted.

“Emereth,” Jodis began, recalling the horror of the giant, green dragon that circled over the village, raining down destruction and death for the sheer pleasure of it. “She killed hundreds of people.”

She noticed that several of the orcs standing behind the chieftain stiffened at the mention of Emereth and cast uneasy glances back and forth; but the chieftain was unmoving, unwavering; a pillar of courage and strength.

“I know of the dragon you speak of,” the chieftain finally said after a prolonged moment of silence. “Bring your leader and his guardian, unarmed, and we will discuss matters.”

“What?” one of the orcs said, surprised. The chieftain cast him and stern look, and the orc quickly turned away, his hardened gaze simply looking forward. Jodis turned around and walked twenty feet, calling for her father and Darius to come – but unarmed. She could see Darius arguing with Barek, but could not hear what was being said.

“They don’t trust us,” the orc chieftain growled. “This is why we can’t live in harmony.”

Jodis realized that this is exactly what the orc chieftain not only wanted but expected. Jodis quickly shouted, “Get over here! Now!”

Jodis’ tone was like a mother scorning her children for playing outside too late. Darius unbuckled his blade and set his shield on the floor; but he and Barek approaching with their hands rose in the air.

Jodis sat in during the negotiations; and the orc chieftain agreed to allow the humans to live at the base of Greystone, in the clearing before the woods. He even agreed that the humans could hunt and use the fine lumber of the Greenhaven forest.

The entire night, Jodis could not take her eyes off the chieftain. His presence commanded her attention, even when he was not looking at her.

Both Darius and Barek were astonished that they could come to a mutual understanding; and surprised by the behavior of the orcs and how civil and respectful they were. As Darius and Barek left, Jodis hung back and grabbed the orc chieftain by the arm gently.

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

The orc looked down at her, ready to say something, then changing his mind, and said, “Because we too lost our home to Emereth. We once resided in mountain caves far from here, when Emereth came and proclaimed it would be her new nesting ground, killing my people as if we were troublesome vermin. I’ve seen and felt her cruelty. I’ve lost loved ones to her.”

As the weeks passed, the humans began to form a settlement they called Greyhaven (marked between Greystone and Greenhaven) and Jodis found herself speaking with the orcs more frequently to understand their culture. She learned that they had worshiped Grenn – The Great Bear Spirit. They believed that it had been Grenn who blessed them with their strength and raw will power; and that the orc chieftain, Kraiz was the perfect embodiment of the spirit of Grenn.

Jodis spent hours sitting with Kraiz, learning about Grenn and how he ran through the heavens. The orcs believe that the shooting stars the race across the sky are Grenn’s enemies fleeing from him. The more time they spent together, the more each of them opened to the other.

And it was a surprise, when one day, Kraiz confessed, “Do you remember ask me why I did it? Why I let your people live and build outside our forest?”

“I do,” she said, “because you had…”

Kraiz shook his head. “It’s true what I said. We’d lost our own to Emereth and that is why we live here now. But that had not been the only reason I allowed it to happen.” Jodis looked confused. “It’s because of you,” he admitted. “The way you marched towards us – had the courage to continue beyond the arrows that were shot at your feet – the way you barked orders at your own leaders. Do you not feel it? Grenn’s spirit is in you.” He pulled her close suddenly and kissed her, much to her shock; but more surprisingly, she did not pull away. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the four large scars that he bore, and inhaled the moment.

In the Bearclaw Tribe fashion; Jodis and Kraiz were married (much to the dismay of both Jodis’ father, Barek and the man who had loved her all of his life, Darius). For two weeks, Jodis and Kraiz had to live in the wild, wearing gloves that had the claws of a deceased bear; and this was the only weapon they could use to survive and hunt with. If they survived, Grenn had given the wedding their blessing.

Two weeks later, both returned, with pelts and leathers, looking healthier and happier than any had. Kraiz’s sister, Dehl touched Jodis’ stomach and smiled. “You have done it. You will bare his children. The first seed is planted. May one of the future children bear the spirit of Grenn as Kraiz does.”


Kraiz would go on to die in his sleep at the age of 45, five years ago. But not before he had several children with Jodis, who was now 48.

Tamozi was the first born; a female who become an expert hunter and trapper for the village. Ingun was next, another female who took up arms and became one of the tribe’s greatest warriors. Orest (a male) and Ureg (a female) were next born, only three years apart, taking after their eldest sister, Tamozi. Agamok, a male was born next, who developed a strong rapport with the humans of Greyhaven, and often posed as one of their guards during times the caravan traveled for trades. Rasuna was next, a female, who unlike the others was born wild. She enjoyed mischief and a good fight, even if the odds were against her – some would say that’s when she enjoyed fighting the most. A year later, her sister Herdis was born, who was a great tracker, and would eventually leave to become a bounty hunter, taking any job for gold. Zurimak was the final child, at the age of seventeen and a male, he was learning from Tamozi, Orest and Ureg how to be an effective hunter.


It had been a cold winter, which is what had driven the goblins who lived in Greystone down into Greyhaven to maraud and steal. The orcs of the Bearclaw Tribe rushed in to help, much to the surprise of the goblins, who had spotted an occasional orc wandering through the town during their scouting missions; but had not expected an entire clan to rush to the defense of humans. Truth be told, the humans were excellent farmers; so while the orc clan provided lumber for their homes; the humans provided them with fresh fruit and meat.

During the assault, Rasuna, the daughter of Kraiz had veered too far from the others, seeking to fight as many goblins as she could. She chased them up the mountain trail as they fled with what they could, and one of the goblins waiting on the trail for any pursuer’s shot an arrow into her shoulder. On the slick ice, she lost her footing and plummeted into the river down below.

Swept away by the chilling waters, Rasuna fought to remain conscious, but eventually surrendered to the chilling cold waters. Much to her surprise she awoke in a cavern where a transparent bear lingered in the air, massive in size. “The spirit,” it said, directly to her mind, “resides in you. Untapped, wild, you must learn to focus that which I have given you. Take my gift and awaken.” The bear raked its massive claws against her chest, scaring her forever. But when her eyes snapped open she was surprised to see her aunt hunkered over her.

“Dehl? How?” Rasuna asked, as she tried to sit up and screamed.

“You have been in this sleeping state for months; alive but dead. Suddenly these gashes appeared and you awoke. The gashes are that which your father also bore.”

She looked down at her chest. It hadn’t been a dream.

Grenn had blessed her with his mark.

[stormsouldevil]

Love it! Thank you so much

[Tawmis]

Name: Igris
Gender: Male
Race: Githyanki
Alignment: Chaotic neutral
Class: barbarian path of the beast for one of the new ua
https://media.wizards.com/2020/dnd/d...bclasses01.pdf
Background: far traveler
and the thing is that the ancient animal spirit that dwells within him, is not a normal creature but one what was native to the Astral Plane

I had to do some homework for this!
I know the Githyanki have a pretty detailed history, so I had to break out my Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes and read up on the Gith War.
As an old player, who didn't really enjoy Psionics in 2nd Edition, I stayed away (as a DM) from a lot of the monsters and such that revolved around that, and changed Psionics back then to be applicable to only Mind Flayers. So the Githyanki had never been high on my list - but I admit (having originally skipped over the Gith stuff when I bought the book - no, I am not kidding), I do have to say, I have a new appreciation for them in 5e. So, thank you for that!

Some fun stuff to know…
The scene where Igris bows at the beginning is inspired by this image:
https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/...laakith-5e.jpg
The Ancient Dragon “Flame” is a reference to “Flame” the Red Dragon seen in DUNGEON MAGAZINE #1 and went on to appear again (several times, written by others) in DUNGEON MAGAZINE #17, 100 and 200 (in issue 200, he apparently returns as a Dracolich, and becoming a Demilich Red Dragon).

Hopefully this works for you, as I enjoyed writing it.
I would love ANY feedback (as it bumps the thread and keeps it alive!)
As always...
Enjoy!
================================================== ================


Vlaakith, ruler of the Githyanki, sat on her throne forged by the bones and skulls of the Mind Flayers that had been killed in the Gith uprising. What had made Vlaakith different than all the other Gith was what she’d become. Obsessed with her power, Vlaakith became known as the Lich Queen. With long, white hair, tattered robes, an ornate crown, and a beaming, silver great sword at her side, she was an intimidating presence to behold. If that had not been enough, she’d struck a deal with Tiamat herself, and given access to hundreds of Red Dragons, one of which was an ancient red dragon who simply went by the name “Flame” (claiming that none of the Gith could ever pronounce her true name). Flame served Vlaakith loyally, out of both respect and fear of the Lich Queen.

Igris, a male Githyanki, escorted by two other Githyanki, approached and kneeled at the base of the throne. He remained in the kneeled position until Vlaakith gave him permission to stand. He, along with most of his tribe, cared very little for Vlaakith. They would never rebel against her, after all, she allowed them to raid various planes; but all the profit was given to her. While they did not care for gold and wealth, they had felt that she was using them and cared little of their fate. But the tribe of Gith barbarians that Igris belonged to rarely gave it much thought, beyond when they were handing their spoils over to Vlaakith’s most trusted legionnaires.

As Igris stood he looked directly into the shallow, empty, soulless depths of Vlaakith’s eyes. “What is myself or the tribe can do for you, Queen Vlaakith?”

Vlaakith sat back, crossed her legs, and a smile stretched across her undead features. “What is it you can do for me, indeed,” she whispered. Her voice was like a thousand daggers slicing into Igris’ soul; her tone, her voice, so hollow and emotionless. “As you know,” she said, uncrossing her legs, leaning on her gleaming, silver, great sword, as she stared into Igris’ soul, “you have reached adulthood and now is the time for you to perform what is required of all Githyanki. You must track down and slay a Mind Flayer, our former oppressors and slavers. Normally,” she continued, as she leaned back, spinning the blade by the hilt, the tip of the blade pointed into the stone at her feet, “any Mind Flayer would do. But it just so happens, that I want you to find a very specific Mind Flayer. There was one of great power named Unalla, who was a prisoner of mine… and managed to escape from a portal. The guard,” she gestured at the chewed remains of a Githyanki near Flame’s massive claws, “paid for his failure.”

She smiled again, something that somehow sent a chill down Igris’ spine, as if he were naked in freezing temperatures. “I assume you will not fail me,” she said. “While time does not pass here,” she gestured around her, “in the Astral Plane as it does in the Prime Material Plane where Unalla has escaped to; I will know how long it took you to find her by how much you have aged when you bring her head to me.”

She stood up, her frail looking body, deceptive; while she looked as if she might fall apart any moment, she was in fact, quite powerful. She opened her hands and a sphere appeared with swirling images. “As you know,” the sphere began to show images of the Mind Flayers during the time they had the Githyanki enslaved, “the Mind Flayers experimented on us all. This is why someone of us are powerful in strength,” she gestured to Igris, “and others in mind and psionics. I have traced your bloodline, Igris, because I can bend the veils of time as easily as you draw breath. I saw what they did your bloodline.”

Igris knew where this was going; he’d already felt it. He watched as Mind Flayers experimented with the a mystical creature known as the Displacer Beast. The Mind Flayers had hoped to somehow integrate the power of the Displacer Beast into the Githyanki, so that they could be used as assassins. Igris watched as the Mind Flayers pulled the magic from the Displacer Beast and fused it into several Githyanki who screamed in horror. Most died from the experiment, but the strong had managed to survive the ordeal, channeling some of the power of the Displacer Beast, causing their bodies to shimmer. Over time, this was diluted by generations of Githyanki, and the survival rate had been so low that the Mind Flayers ceased this experiment after years of trying. (Though some did it for the simple joy of inflicting pain upon the Githyanki).

“Every so often,” Vlaakith’s voice snapped Igris from his thoughts, “it surfaces again. That connection.”

She made a gesture as if pulling at invisible strings, and Igris screamed in pain as a phantasmal like Displacer Beast seemed to be pulled from his chest, fighting to remain inside. Vlaakith released it and Igris collapsed. He’d felt the beast inside of him.

Vlaakith sat back down. “Good. Go. Find Unalla and bring me her head. Do not come back until you have found and killed her.”

I got a tough one for you, Tawmis.
A slaver that was once evil became good through a Conquest Paladin teaching him how to understand why evil is "wrong". That is, the character was force-fed their own medicine until they realized the error of their ways.
Now the character serves the chapter of Paladins that does the same, inflicting Evil upon Evil in a last attempt to strip away everything until desperation overcomes malice.
One particular aspect of the chapter is that they all have a level of self-loathing of who they are/were, and inflicting pain on those that deserve it is considered a form of penance. Not only are they to constantly inflict the same horrors they so loathe, but they do so on reflections of themselves. More often than not their actions fail, as violence and fear rarely produces anything but futility. That futility is another lesson that you're to struggle against it and your other failures, until you're finally able to reveal worth in your actions (as you produce another Paladin to the order, and so are promoted).
To summarize, the chapter uses fairly abusive teachings in order to get a bunch of bad guys to hate themselves enough to become a self-sustaining pyramid scheme of self-loathing. Occasionally, they accidentally find a diamond amidst a coal mine of slain bad guys.
If possible, I'd like the story to focus on the moment the character changes. The epiphany, that *click*, that changes him from captive to paladin.
It's a bit open-ended, with names, and whatnot, but I wanted it to be whatever fits best for your storytelling.

I think I got most of the bases you wanted covered, if I understood your request correctly.
I ended up naming the main character Kallis (this is a play on the words of Callous)... with his mentor being Justikar (a tweaked swift justice... justice + car).
I ended up really getting into the torture segment for Kallis (which is why I may not have covered all of your bases)...
Was fun to find a balance of a Conquest Paladin doing something pretty vile, but for all the 'right' (justified?) reasons.
And the punishment at the end... and also the quest to defeat Justikar one day...
Leaves it open for a DM to explore. Gives the player a goal.
Anyway, would love feedback - as it helps keep the thread bumped and alive for others to see it!
As always...
Enjoy!
================================================== ==============

As the blistering sun rose over the western skyline, Kallis could already feel his skin burning. He’d been changed to a wall, whose face, slowly turned to always capture the rays of the sun. As a result, his skin was tanned a deep brown, blistering, cracked and dry.

Just as he had heard every morning, the metal sound of heavy footsteps of someone in chainmail armor, clinking ups the stairs. “So, Kallis, you survived another night. The stirges in the nearby cave feasted well, by the looks of your flesh. Most of your boils have burst. It’s bound to get worse today. The wizards say it will be much hotter today than yesterday.”

The armored human went by the name of Justikar. His blond hair was matted to his face; his sea blue eyes looked like water, shimmering beneath his golden eyebrows. The sun, though it had barely risen was already warming the mantle.

“You know,” he signed, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. But you made a choice in life, Kallis. A choice that involved you becoming a slaver. You and your cohorts snuck into people’s homes, kidnapped them, and sold them to drow, duergar, and who knows who else. Your victims, Kallis, included children. Children. Do you not understand the depth of your sins? The shattered families you left behind that can never heal. Scars left wipe open,” Justikar ran his steel, searing, gloved hand across Kallis’ chest, rupturing several welts, puss exploding from his wounds. “Scars,” Justikar said, standing and turning his back, “that will never heal.”

Six more days of burning, chained next to a mirror that reflected the sun in Kallis’ eyes, even as the pedestal turned to always face the sun; six more days of Justikar coming up to remind him of his sins, touch his skin, and cause more pain. Six more nights of warm nights where Kallis was forced to hear the fluttering wings of stirges who came and fed on his flesh, getting fat and plump before flying away. Six more days and nights without food and drink.

On the seventh day, Kallis, barely even clinging to life, his flesh pulled tight, appearing more skeletal than human, heard the clanking metal of Justikar’s boots, the jingling of the chainmail. Kallis did not even have the strength to lift his head and hear Justikar’s speech yet again. He simply hung, limp in the chains, waiting to die.

“You pray for death,” Justikar said, this time his speech was different. “But my god will not let you die, Kallis. He will keep you alive for as long as I wish it. Your prays fall on deaf ears. But they don’t have to. You’ve led a terrible life. Cruel. Foul. Evil. But despite that, you’re human. This means, despite what most would think, you are capable of love.” He paused before saying to someone, “Bring her to me.”

A woman’s voice could be heard. Familiar.

A beautiful woman ran towards Kallis, but Justikar grabbed her by the arm.

Kallis looked over and saw his wife.

Justikar simply said, “It took us awhile. But we found her. We traced some of the gold you had been sending. You sent it to her and your son.” Now a young boy’s voice could be heard as a young five year old came to stand by his mother, clinging to her leg.

“You killed people,” Justikar said. “Took them away. Sold them.” Justikar drew his blade. “The time has come for you to feel that same pain, Kallis. I will kill your son now, and sell your wife into slavery, where you will never know where she is. I will keep you alive in a dark, small two by two cell, and I will feed you well, and have the Priests keep you alive; so you can spend the rest of your days wondering what’s happening with your wife; if she’s been killed, abused, or worse.”

Douse the flames of hope.

“Please,” Kallis choked, barely having the strength to even move his tongue and jaw, “do not harm them.”

“I imagine everyone who you at least had the courage to face begged the same thing of you,” Justikar said, “and how many times did you show mercy? Once? Never? Why should I grant you the mercy you never granted anyone?”

“I will do anything,” Kallis replied. “Just, please, let them go.”

“Serve me,” Justikar said matter-of-factly.

It was such a strange phrase that Kallis had not been sure he’d heard it correctly.

“Serve me, and do unto others as I’ve done to you,” Justikar continued. “Those who have committed the vilest acts deserve this punishment. It’s not enough to kill them. You must break them. Only then can they truly be redeemed to see the error of their life long ways. But if you serve with me, know my word is the law. If I do not want you to kill someone you do not; and if I ask you to kill someone; man or woman, you will. And you will not question me. Is this understood?”

“I agree to your terms,” Kallis muttered, his mouth parched, dry, bleeding.

Rule with an Iron Fist.

“Good,” he gestured to the other Paladin that had been holding Kallis’ wife, who now handed him a bowl of water. Justikar gave it to Kallis’ wife so that she could give him water.

“I will spare them,” Justikar said. “But I am sending them far away from you. You will never see them again, until the day comes that you can challenge me fairly, and defeat me, so that I can give you the information as to their whereabouts.”

Strength Above All.

Justikar had kept his word; he freed Kallis and had the Priests tend to him so that he could regain his health. That first night, he also shipped Kallis’ wife and son on a ship, far from where they were.

Kallis joined the Paladin Order of Conquest under Justikar, until Justikar saw him fit to go out into the world and find those who deserved to be punished.

Name: Uthak "Skywatcher"
Race: Male Goliath
Class: Sorcerer - Storm sorcery
Deity: Kord
The rough idea I have is for him to leave his clan to learn to control his new powers, but I don't have any idea for how he would get his powers.
I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Coming up with how Uthak came into power of Storm Sorcery was easy once I saw his nickname.
Since you mentioned the deity of Kord (who is mentioned in PHPB 5e) who is a Greyhawk deity (and not a Forgotten Realms deity), I wrote one section (the name of the mountain home - Corusk Mountains) based on Greyhawk.
Naturally this can be changed (if it's Forgotten Realms where Kord might exist in your game), or it could just be a mountain range in the Forgotten Realms called Corusk Mountains.
I almost got too much into writing about his mother; but she was essential to his own background.
Anyway, I would love to hear feedback (especially since this thread has landed on page 3 of this forum! So any feedback would bump it back up!) :)
Anyway, as always - hope you Enjoy!
================================================== ============


Uthak’s mother, Hilleena, had always admired the stars. Even when she was young, there was always a ledge in the Corusk Mountains that she would climb to; where the clouds would part ways for her, so that she could see them, and perhaps so they could see her.

Even after she married Trobas and became pregnant, she made the daily climb to the ledge to gaze up at the stars. During her pregnancy, she would lie up there, sometimes all night, and speak to the child in her womb, about the stars, and the gods – she spoke most highly of Kord, who had been a tempest god, who brought the thunder and speared the skies with lightning.

One night Hilleena was awakened by the sound of thunder. She’d been startled away to see a nearby storm rapidly approaching. As she struggled to get up, both tired and burdened by her pregnancy which was due any day now, a bolt of lightning struck her. She felt the charge of energy burst through her body and exit her fingers and toes. For that brief moment, she’d become one with the storm; but rather than finding death, or even buckling down to her knee; Hilleena instead felt energized.

Two days later, she gave birth to Uthak, who showed no outward signs of having suffered anything due to the lightning strike while in the womb. Hilleena had been convinced that Kord had not tried to kill her, but empower her, or at least empower her child. When Uthak reached the age of five, Hilleena began to witness unusual things that Uthak could do; at times, when he snapped his fingers, large bolts of static electricity crackled between his fingers. By the age of ten, during combat training, Uthak was jumping far greater distances than the others, as if the very winds were carrying him.

One night, Uthak did not come home and Hilleena began to fret. She frantically searched around the village and found no sign of him. The fear mounted as she began to wonder if he’d wandered too far from the tribe and fallen victim to one of the many yeti that hunted around these frigid mountain tops. Fearful and unsure what to do, she began climbing to the cliff side she’d always climbed to; and as she grew nearer, she heard a voice. Peaking over several snowcapped boulders, she was surprised to see Uthak sitting there, at the ledge, cross legged, staring up at the stars. Whenever he spoke, a brief sound of thunder rolled in the distance, as if speaking back to him. She observed this for fifteen minutes, when Uthak stood and began to make his way down, surprised to see his mother.

“What were you doing up there?” she asked.

“Finding peace,” he explained.

“How did you even know about that ledge?” she pressed.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s as if I heard a voice calling me to it.

“A voice?” his mother asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I think it was Kord,” he replied.

She looked up at and the small bursts of thunder she’d heard previously stopped.

Uthak, like his mother, found himself going to the cliff side throughout his years, earning him the nickname of “Skywatcher.” Even when he wasn’t standing at the cliff side, Uthak always seemed to be looking upward, as if some celestial voice from above were whispering messages to him.

When Uthak reached the age of twenty, his mother passed away from natural causes, and his father, Trobas, decided to go on an expedition from which he never returned. Uthak took it upon himself to seek out his father, where ever he might be and return him to the village, if he was still alive.

[Skayaq]

Thank you for the write up. I quite like how you gave him his nickname, but I would have liked a bit more about him struggling to control the powers and how that affected the rest of the clan. Still I can use this as a good start.

[Tawmis]

Thank you for the write up. I quite like how you gave him his nickname, but I would have liked a bit more about him struggling to control the powers and how that affected the rest of the clan. Still I can use this as a good start.

A few extra lines and I can add that!

Name: Uthak "Skywatcher"
Race: Male Goliath
Class: Sorcerer - Storm sorcery
Deity: Kord
The rough idea I have is for him to leave his clan to learn to control his new powers, but I don't have any idea for how he would get his powers.
I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Coming up with how Uthak came into power of Storm Sorcery was easy once I saw his nickname.
Since you mentioned the deity of Kord (who is mentioned in PHPB 5e) who is a Greyhawk deity (and not a Forgotten Realms deity), I wrote one section (the name of the mountain home - Corusk Mountains) based on Greyhawk.
Naturally this can be changed (if it's Forgotten Realms where Kord might exist in your game), or it could just be a mountain range in the Forgotten Realms called Corusk Mountains.
I almost got too much into writing about his mother; but she was essential to his own background.
Anyway, I would love to hear feedback (especially since this thread has landed on page 3 of this forum! So any feedback would bump it back up!) :)
Anyway, as always - hope you Enjoy!
================================================== ============


Uthak’s mother, Hilleena, had always admired the stars. Even when she was young, there was always a ledge in the Corusk Mountains that she would climb to; where the clouds would part ways for her, so that she could see them, and perhaps so they could see her.

Even after she married Trobas and became pregnant, she made the daily climb to the ledge to gaze up at the stars. During her pregnancy, she would lie up there, sometimes all night, and speak to the child in her womb, about the stars, and the gods – she spoke most highly of Kord, who had been a tempest god, who brought the thunder and speared the skies with lightning.

One night Hilleena was awakened by the sound of thunder. She’d been startled away to see a nearby storm rapidly approaching. As she struggled to get up, both tired and burdened by her pregnancy which was due any day now, a bolt of lightning struck her. She felt the charge of energy burst through her body and exit her fingers and toes. For that brief moment, she’d become one with the storm; but rather than finding death, or even buckling down to her knee; Hilleena instead felt energized.

Two days later, she gave birth to Uthak, who showed no outward signs of having suffered anything due to the lightning strike while in the womb. Hilleena had been convinced that Kord had not tried to kill her, but empower her, or at least empower her child. When Uthak reached the age of five, Hilleena began to witness unusual things that Uthak could do; at times, when he snapped his fingers, large bolts of static electricity crackled between his fingers. By the age of ten, during combat training, Uthak was jumping far greater distances than the others, as if the very winds were carrying him.

One night, Uthak did not come home and Hilleena began to fret. She frantically searched around the village and found no sign of him. The fear mounted as she began to wonder if he’d wandered too far from the tribe and fallen victim to one of the many yeti that hunted around these frigid mountain tops. Fearful and unsure what to do, she began climbing to the cliff side she’d always climbed to; and as she grew nearer, she heard a voice. Peaking over several snowcapped boulders, she was surprised to see Uthak sitting there, at the ledge, cross legged, staring up at the stars. Whenever he spoke, a brief sound of thunder rolled in the distance, as if speaking back to him. She observed this for fifteen minutes, when Uthak stood and began to make his way down, surprised to see his mother.

“What were you doing up there?” she asked.

“Finding peace,” he explained.

“How did you even know about that ledge?” she pressed.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s as if I heard a voice calling me to it.

“A voice?” his mother asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I think it was Kord,” he replied.

She looked up at and the small bursts of thunder she’d heard previously stopped.

Uthak, like his mother, found himself going to the cliff side throughout his years, earning him the nickname of “Skywatcher.” Even when he wasn’t standing at the cliff side, Uthak always seemed to be looking upward, as if some celestial voice from above were whispering messages to him.

In a region where survival was paramount, as death lingered at every corner; from running out of food, to the deadly beasts that roamed this high in the mountains - namely an aggressive pack of Yeti that have long prayed and fed upon the foolish Goliath who hunted alone or was separated from the others. The Goliaths relied on strong powerful warriors to not only defend the village, but also to hunt for food. Food in these frozen caps was scarce to come by, and it was all too easy to go many nights without it; or being desperate and foolish and falling pray to the Yeti, whose white fur made them nearly impossible to see until it was already too late.

Uthak had difficulty here - he didn't like wielding a weapon, and more often then not, during training, he found himself gazing at the sky, and suffering a bloody nose for it, when his instructor bashed his shield into Uthak's face, expecting the young warrior to defend himself. As the years pressed on and Uthak grew more and more frustrated, feeling that holding a spear was not his calling; his powers continued to manifest. At times, he was shoving someone back with a gust of wind, or electrocuting them when he got them in a choke hold. While the tribe thought such powers could be useful, his inability to control them was beginning to hamper them more than benefit them, as he permanently wounded several other young Goliaths who'd been training with him.

When Uthak reached the age of twenty, his mother passed away from natural causes, and his father, Trobas, decided to go on an expedition from which he never returned (the tribal Shaman claimed that Trobas left to die of a broken heart). His father never returning, and his mother having passed, pulled all the foundation and support from beneath Uthak's feet, and he began to suffer for it among other tribe members. He knew, if he had any hope of being any good to the tribe, he would need to learn to control his powers. Fur traders who had passed through the village had mentioned how there were others like Uthak that were born with magical abilities and learned to control them - and that they could perhaps Uthak learn how to control the power that was surging inside of him.

[Skayaq]

Oh that's awesome, fits nicely with spells I have picked for him.
Thank you again for doing this, this is a great service.

[Tawmis]

Oh that's awesome, fits nicely with spells I have picked for him.
Thank you again for doing this, this is a great service.

The pleasure is honestly all mine. I enjoy doing these exercises for my brain. And if someone isn't 100% thrilled with what I delivered, and they explain why, and my brain can trigger the fix - I am more than happy to make those changes to be closer to what the requester had wanted.

[Skayaq]

Forgot to mention this, this sentence

While the tribe thought such powers could be useful, his inability to control them was beginning to hamper them more than benefit them

is pretty much perfect for what I wanted for him.