Need a character background written up?

[CLAY MORE]

I need some help designing a flavourful kit of origins and motivations for a young Red Dragonborn named Caled Volk (name comes for Excalibur true name, Caledfwlch). He's a Paladin of Ancients (LV 6, 18/10/16/10/8/14) woved since childhood to a local Mother Nature-like deity. This fellow is smaller then most of his kin, standing only at 5 feet tall, and so full of his creed that has literally no judgment over the course of his actions, following the oath's tenets to the end. Caled is not dumb, but he doesn't know better, and is pretty proud of his "draconic bloodline": so proud, someday he could decide to tap into its innate casting power... That's all I got for know, little quirks but no backstory and no reason for him to join an adventuring party.

This character was made and roleplayed on the fly, so it's opened to variations. The world is an homebrew setting but a pretty standard one, with classic fantasy tropes. Dragonborns are pretty rare tho, so Caled will be a special snowflake of sort. The party he's in, while doing good deeds, is mostly after fortune and gold. This table doesn't care much about fluff, but I'd like a character that is little more than a stat block with a few punchlines.

Thank you!

[Tawmis]

I need some help designing a flavourful kit of origins and motivations for a young Red Dragonborn named Caled Volk (name comes for Excalibur true name, Caledfwlch). He's a Paladin of Ancients (LV 6, 18/10/16/10/8/14) woved since childhood to a local Mother Nature-like deity. This fellow is smaller then most of his kin, standing only at 5 feet tall, and so full of his creed that has literally no judgment over the course of his actions, following the oath's tenets to the end. Caled is not dumb, but he doesn't know better, and is pretty proud of his "draconic bloodline": so proud, someday he could decide to tap into its innate casting power... That's all I got for know, little quirks but no backstory and no reason for him to join an adventuring party.

This character was made and roleplayed on the fly, so it's opened to variations. The world is an homebrew setting but a pretty standard one, with classic fantasy tropes. Dragonborns are pretty rare tho, so Caled will be a special snowflake of sort. The party he's in, while doing good deeds, is mostly after fortune and gold. This table doesn't care much about fluff, but I'd like a character that is little more than a stat block with a few punchlines.

Thank you!

Hopefully I've given you something to work with! :)
I enjoyed getting to know Caled and his ... tragic reason for being!
If there's anything I didn't hit the mark on or you didn't like - please let me know!
Also let me know what you enjoyed! Both help me grow as a writer!
And also replies help keep this thread alive and bumped for others to discover!
Enjoy!
=================================================

It started centuries ago.

Dragons used an ancient ritual to change the genetic makeup of some of their eggs. This spell created humanoid Dragons that could walk the world. The Dragons who had brought destruction during their Wars had made an agreement not to meddle directly with the affairs of mortals.

The Dragonborn gave them a way to send their children forward and bypass the agreement that they had made with one another. Tragically, this process was a delicate one, and most who were born as the Dragonborn rarely survived more than a year, before their bodies would break down, causing a painful death.

This made Dragonborn extremely rare in the world, since many perished within a year and over the hundreds of years, the population among Dragons began to decrease mixed with a waning interest in indirectly tampering with the lives of Mortals.

One such Dragonborn was created from one of the eggs of a violent Red Dragon named Hellfire, but it became evident to Hellfire that this one would die within a year. Born unusually smaller than any other Dragonborn, Hellfire shook her head, and with the other two dragons she bore, she took to the skies, leaving the single Dragonborn to perish.

Unbeknownst to Hellfire, a group of adventurers had learned of her nesting location and had ventured into the volcano to find her and put an end to her life. When they had reached her nest they were disappointed to find that she had already departed. They were shocked, however, to still find a Dragonborn hatchling.

“Well, at least this wasn’t a complete waste of time,” the fighter named Thorwal smiled as he drew his sword. He looked down at the Dragonborn and said, “May the gods burn your evil soul in the planes of Hell, beast.”

As his arm came down with a mighty cleave, rather than meeting the soft flesh of a young Dragonborn, it met with a steel shield with a lion’s mane on it. Thorwal turned to Stern Lionmane, the Paladin. “What are you doing?” Thorwal grunted as he eyed the Paladin.

“He is an infant,” Stern stated the obvious. “I cannot allow you to kill an unarmed opponent. Let alone an infant.”

“It’s a Red Dragonborn,” Thorwal pointed at the nest with the tip of his blade. “What do you think is going to happen if Hellfire comes back for him and raises him? He will do what the others have done – lead armies of orcs, goblins, and trolls and march against our cities.”

“The nest looks to have been abandoned several days ago,” Stern replied. “The other two eggs, over there have been hatched. There’s no evidence of meat brought from Hellfire that isn’t rancid in this infernal nest.”

“So you think that she has abandoned this one?” Yuri’ken, the human Monk asked. “If so, we can leave it, and it shall perish of starvation.”

“I suppose we could do that,” Thorwal shrugged. “It’s a far more painful death,” he admitted, “than cleaving its head off with my sword.” He looked at the Dragonborn, “Though admittedly a lot less satisfying.”

Stern Lionmane felt conflicted. Perhaps Hellfire had indeed abandoned the Dragonborn infant and perhaps Fate deemed that it would die in this manner. But what if Fate had put them here to find the Dragonborn for another reason?

Stern reached down and picked up the infant Dragonborn. Thorwal looked shocked. “Wait, are you going to throw it into the volcano?” Seemed to be an unusual move, Thorwal thought, for this righteous Paladin.

“No,” Stern replied, “we are taking it back to Vourden Keep.”

“What?” Thorwal exclaimed nearly dropping his weapon in shock. “You plan to bring that thing into the very Keep we’re trying to protect from Hellfire? Bring the enemy into the center of town?”

“My goddess has put me in this path for a reason,” Stern replied as he removed his cloak to wrap the child, so that he could easily carry it on his back.

“While I always seek balance,” Yuri’ken said, “and rarely do I agree with the brash judgements of Thorwal, but this time, I must side with him. This seems to be a foolish idea.”

“If he grows up to be a threat, I will put him down myself,” Stern replied, “until then I shall give this infant the choice to deny his heritage and see the light of good.”

“This should go down as one of the worse ideas,” Thorwal sighed, seeing that there was no way Stern would be changing his mind from this.

Stern had named him Caled Volk – meaning ‘the heart of fire’ in the ancient Elven tongue. He spent every moment he could with Caled Volk. He had hired hand maidens who nervously tended to him and showed the infant support until he was old enough to walk on his own. Stern pushed upon Caled the Code of Hope.


“In the Darkness, Kindle the Light – be kind, be forgiving, and give the people hope. In the Storm, Shelter the Light, and encourage good, beauty, love and laughter, no matter how powerful the storm. In the Shadow of Your Soul, Preserve Your Own Light – delight in the hope, the smile, the laughter of others, and keep that in your heart for when you might need it. And against Evil, be the light – and be the glorious beacon for all those who despair and fear.”

By the age of ten, it had become clear to Stern why Hellfire undoubtedly had abandoned this Dragonborn. He barely stood three feet tall, and other Dragonborn by this age were already five feet tall. By the age of eighteen, at just over five feet tall, he took the Oath and joined the same order that Stern had, following the Goddess of Nature.

He was short, and generally mistrusted, even among the Order because of his Red Dragonscales. But he was proud of who he had grown up to be. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he did wonder what would come of him and the tie of his bloodline…

[CLAY MORE]

Hopefully I've given you something to work with! :)

It's quite good! Haven't thought of Caled's cromatic (and evil) heritage as a reason to enforce an eventual sorcerer multiclass. I'll talk with my DM to decide if any of his enstablished characters can fit the roles of Thorwal and Stern. Thank you!

[Tawmis]

It's quite good! Haven't thought of Caled's cromatic (and evil) heritage as a reason to enforce an eventual sorcerer multiclass. I'll talk with my DM to decide if any of his enstablished characters can fit the roles of Thorwal and Stern. Thank you!

I thought I'd definitely play up the Chromatic side - and why the Paladins would be so interested in teaching him their ways. Otherwise, if he was taken and grown up to be a fighter, they might think he'd eventually turn to mercenary, and begin the slippery slope of darkness. Teach him the ways of Light and Life, and enforce those ideals upon him would hopefully keep him on the straight and narrow. And the idea of sliding into Sorcerer as a multi-class could provide some great aspects of RP (if your DM allows Thorwal and Stern), as they might see him potentially embracing darkness. One thing I love doing with these is diving into what makes them tick - but leave doors open (for both the players and DM). Is Hellfire somewhere out there also? What will Mother Dearest do (if anything?) when she learns one of her own that she left to die - not only survived - but has embraced the light?

[Cyclops08]

If you are still offering, I would like to jazz up my character.
I am debating Hexblade/Pact of the Chain or a Hex/Pact of the sword character. Wisdom is his low attribute (8) as you will see in his write up.
Variant Human, Spell Sniper feat. Waterdhavian Nobel background

My main concern is the pact itself. I was considering making it a deal with Strahd and not the Raven Queen. The souls pulled in are merging with the land of Barovia, stabilizing and expanding the Demiplane trapped in Shadow. But that would be more sinister and require the blood of innocents...I don't want to go that route.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Vandal Morn was born to a Waterdhavian Nobel house, Whiteraven. He had all the benefits of wealth, Good schooling, and a stable home. But he squandered it all in an orgy of self-indulgence. He was very nearly disowned by his father. Vandal was cast out until be could prove he was responsible.

Vandal had to find a job. He was too ashamed to work in Waterdeep where everyone new him. So he changed his name and set out to one of the towns nearby. He lived well for a while by selling his jewelry. But that money ran out all too quickly.

Traveling to another town 20 miles away, Vandal was ambushed by a handful of goblins. He managed to run and hide in a shallow cave. He knew if they found him, he would die.

That was when he stumbled upon a treasure. It was a jet-black sword. Its beauty struck Vandal as unearthly. When he reached out to take it, it spoke to him. The sword offered power, and strength. In exchange it wanted Vandal to kill for it.

The Pact. Vandal does not need to murder innocents. A life as an adventurer will bring the sword all the souls it needs. These souls will be drawn into the Shadow Realm – not to their eternal destination. Vandal’s soul will not meet this fate, his service will suffice. Vandal does not need to cast the killing blow, all he needs to do is help to kill, and it will be drawn into shadow. As the soul departs the body’s face will freeze into a look of horror. Divine magic users are immune to this.

The first to be drawn into shadow were the goblins hunting the young noble. Feeling flush with power and walking with a new confidence, Vandal stepped out of the cave. Using the last of his reserves he bought his starting equipment and set out to make a man out of himself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Can you do something with this?
Thanks either way.

[Jaryn]

Ha! This is amazing - so noir! I watched something riffing on the theme this evening, and the tone is perfect. If I get to play the character, I might dial it down slightly in play, just to keep continuity with the others, but I love it.

When Mary Twogem was murdered – that’s when I left the City Watch and took up learning magic. I figured I could twist the mystic arts to provide the voices and clues I needed to hear and find.

I needed a reason to take up magic, and this was great. I envisage him stumbling across a spellbook during a case at some point and keeping it, and when he leaves he pulls it out and begins to teach himself.

When I saw the beautiful elf maiden, her golden curls bouncing as she walked.

OMG of course elves would knock you for six!

She took it, and I tell you, it felt like I was touching the hand of an Aasimir.

I particularly like this line.

I highly suggest you release him from the basement before the City Guard gets here. If I hear that your husband is dead, trust me,” I opened the door, “I will come for you.”

I did get slightly confused at the end. Was it the husband that he met under an illusion at Brek's? That was my original thought. Or was it the elf woman who was also an illusionist? And how did he work out that the husband was in the basement?

I'm probably being dense, but I'd love to clarify!

Finally, I forgot to mention with quotes above, but of course he has a hat. I could see that being a real character feature, and it's great to emerge from a backstory like this.

Thank you again!

[Tawmis]

Ha! This is amazing - so noir! I watched something riffing on the theme this evening, and the tone is perfect. If I get to play the character, I might dial it down slightly in play, just to keep continuity with the others, but I love it.

Yeah I figured I might have dove too deep into noir... but having never really read - let alone written it - but knew of the general theme. Once I put on the music for it, my fingers took off running, trying to keep up with my mind.

I needed a reason to take up magic, and this was great. I envisage him stumbling across a spellbook during a case at some point and keeping it, and when he leaves he pulls it out and begins to teach himself.

You mentioned defending the weak (or helpless, something like that) - so I folded that into why he ended up getting into magic. So that he could use magic to try and get clues!

OMG of course elves would knock you for six!

Elves are traditionally the fairest of the land... so naturally, I went for the golden haired elf with bouncy curls.

I particularly like this line.

Originally I wrote - like touching an angel - and I thought - dial it back - use an Aasimir as a reference!

I did get slightly confused at the end. Was it the husband that he met under an illusion at Brek's? That was my original thought. Or was it the elf woman who was also an illusionist? And how did he work out that the husband was in the basement?
I'm probably being dense, but I'd love to clarify!
Finally, I forgot to mention with quotes above, but of course he has a hat. I could see that being a real character feature, and it's great to emerge from a backstory like this.
Thank you again!

You're not dense - I probably wasn't clear about how he jumped to his conclusion.
So he figured out - once Brek was telling the truth - and that Brek referred to the gift for the woman as a 'dame' repeatedly rather than 'wife' that Goldenleaf's husband had a mistress.
Goldenleaf figured it out (maybe she found the gift that he had purchased from Brek) and caught him and trapped him down in the basement (to torture and question him about his mistress).
The illusion is a reference to Goldenleaf herself - using her beauty and innocence as the illusion to hide the fact that she knew where he was, but needed to throw people off. :)
Which is why your character says, "Let him go from the basement" because he's figured out that he's being held prisoner.

[Tawmis]

If you are still offering, I would like to jazz up my character.
I am debating Hexblade/Pact of the Chain or a Hex/Pact of the sword character. Wisdom is his low attribute (8) as you will see in his write up.
Variant Human, Spell Sniper feat. Waterdhavian Nobel background

My main concern is the pact itself. I was considering making it a deal with Strahd and not the Raven Queen. The souls pulled in are merging with the land of Barovia, stabilizing and expanding the Demiplane trapped in Shadow. But that would be more sinister and require the blood of innocents...I don't want to go that route.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Vandal Morn was born to a Waterdhavian Nobel house, Whiteraven. He had all the benefits of wealth, Good schooling, and a stable home. But he squandered it all in an orgy of self-indulgence. He was very nearly disowned by his father. Vandal was cast out until be could prove he was responsible.

Vandal had to find a job. He was too ashamed to work in Waterdeep where everyone new him. So he changed his name and set out to one of the towns nearby. He lived well for a while by selling his jewelry. But that money ran out all too quickly.

Traveling to another town 20 miles away, Vandal was ambushed by a handful of goblins. He managed to run and hide in a shallow cave. He knew if they found him, he would die.

That was when he stumbled upon a treasure. It was a jet-black sword. Its beauty struck Vandal as unearthly. When he reached out to take it, it spoke to him. The sword offered power, and strength. In exchange it wanted Vandal to kill for it.

The Pact. Vandal does not need to murder innocents. A life as an adventurer will bring the sword all the souls it needs. These souls will be drawn into the Shadow Realm – not to their eternal destination. Vandal’s soul will not meet this fate, his service will suffice. Vandal does not need to cast the killing blow, all he needs to do is help to kill, and it will be drawn into shadow. As the soul departs the body’s face will freeze into a look of horror. Divine magic users are immune to this.

The first to be drawn into shadow were the goblins hunting the young noble. Feeling flush with power and walking with a new confidence, Vandal stepped out of the cave. Using the last of his reserves he bought his starting equipment and set out to make a man out of himself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Can you do something with this?
Thanks either way.

I will be happy to explore this further! I am in the middle of editing a video at the moment (for a friend's birthday) - but between saving/compressing/rendering, I will take a stab at this. :)

[Langsley]

Temp Name: Aleyr [Last Name to be filled depending on backstory or if I just find something that sounds nice]
Race: Human
Age: mid-20's
Class: Battle Master 3, Kensei 5, & [1 level of either rogue (Thief) or ranger (Gloom Stalker) as I believe we're likely to reach that level by the time I submit my character sheet to my DM]
Trinket Rolled: An iron holy symbol devoted to an unknown god (not the biggest fan of playing religious characters however)
Alignment: Kinda Lawful, mostly neutral; Focused on what's pragmatic primarily

Gameplay-wise, this character is a marksman that grapples (think John Wick), uses the alchemic tools and improvised weapons to supplement that, and potentially dabbles in clerical ritual magic.

I'm mainly looking for a point to jump from, I've spent a lot of time on build creation and haven't really done much work on the character itself.

I'd like background threads my DM can play with if possible.

Speaking of... my current party consists of a elven monk, elven ranger, and senile human wizard. Elven monk is visting temples on a kind of pilgrimage, the ranger has some history with the raven queen and is an outcast amongst his kind, and the old wizard is trying to fight his weird alzheimer-like disease to find a method of freeing someone that he accidentally trapped when he was at full power. Oh and there was a former party member - an Aasimar Paladin - that went dark side. I've taken the Discovery feat from the Hermit background, but there's no real need to stick to the hermitage.

I naturally tend to play cheerful and chaotic characters so the occasional stint of that wouldn't be amiss in a more serious background.

Thank you in advance.

[Varise]

Hey, long time lurker but finally convinced to register and post by this.

Starting a new campaign and would really appreciate help writing up character background. Got some ideas, but not good at translating them to the page.

Name: Corin Shadowblade
Race: Half-elf
Class: Rogue
Background: Urchin
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Idea is that his human mother was a slave in the underdark, father was a follower of Eilistraee. When Corin born, they attempted to escape. Father turned back to buy time fighting off a hunting party. Mother made it to the surface and settled in a city.

Six years of normal life before she dies of illness, Corin grows up on the streets. Joins a gang to survive. When older he realizes that it's not just survival, they're doing some stuff that crosses his ethical lines and leaves.

Becomes a troubleshooter/adventurer/tries to lookout for the less fortunate.

Probably going to multiclass into fighter, influences are Nightrunner series and Daredevil.

Thank you!

[Bel-Torac]

I love your backgrounds so far, keep up the good work. Here is mine for a new character I just made, this is what I've come up with so far if you can help me expand.

Name: Bloodmaw the Baptiser
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Oathbreaker Paladin

Personality traits: I crush those I can defeat, and lie in wait to weaken and overwhelm those I must respect.
Ideals: Cruelty: Strength without regular demonstrations of its potential is an empty weapon.
Flaws: The world is my hunting ground. Others are my prey.

Background: Soldier/Mercenary Veteran, Was a Paladin of Tyr, but changed into an oathbreaker paladin who found power in Baphomet during a moment of crisis during battle when it looked lost. Realizing that his commander was weak, he left his company and struck out on his own, becoming a cultist of Baphomet. Now he seeks to test himself in battle and find ancient relics that could enrich his power. Uses a greataxe and wears plate.

[Tawmis]

If you are still offering, I would like to jazz up my character.
I am debating Hexblade/Pact of the Chain or a Hex/Pact of the sword character. Wisdom is his low attribute (8) as you will see in his write up.
Variant Human, Spell Sniper feat. Waterdhavian Nobel background

My main concern is the pact itself. I was considering making it a deal with Strahd and not the Raven Queen. The souls pulled in are merging with the land of Barovia, stabilizing and expanding the Demiplane trapped in Shadow. But that would be more sinister and require the blood of innocents...I don't want to go that route.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Vandal Morn was born to a Waterdhavian Nobel house, Whiteraven. He had all the benefits of wealth, Good schooling, and a stable home. But he squandered it all in an orgy of self-indulgence. He was very nearly disowned by his father. Vandal was cast out until be could prove he was responsible.

Vandal had to find a job. He was too ashamed to work in Waterdeep where everyone new him. So he changed his name and set out to one of the towns nearby. He lived well for a while by selling his jewelry. But that money ran out all too quickly.

Traveling to another town 20 miles away, Vandal was ambushed by a handful of goblins. He managed to run and hide in a shallow cave. He knew if they found him, he would die.

That was when he stumbled upon a treasure. It was a jet-black sword. Its beauty struck Vandal as unearthly. When he reached out to take it, it spoke to him. The sword offered power, and strength. In exchange it wanted Vandal to kill for it.

The Pact. Vandal does not need to murder innocents. A life as an adventurer will bring the sword all the souls it needs. These souls will be drawn into the Shadow Realm – not to their eternal destination. Vandal’s soul will not meet this fate, his service will suffice. Vandal does not need to cast the killing blow, all he needs to do is help to kill, and it will be drawn into shadow. As the soul departs the body’s face will freeze into a look of horror. Divine magic users are immune to this.

The first to be drawn into shadow were the goblins hunting the young noble. Feeling flush with power and walking with a new confidence, Vandal stepped out of the cave. Using the last of his reserves he bought his starting equipment and set out to make a man out of himself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Can you do something with this?
Thanks either way.

Done!
I was able to squeeze everything in (Sniper feat), but where I leave it off - it is open to his future (that he might pick up the feat).
I had fun finding a way for the Hexblade to be Strahd rather than the Raven Queen.
Also the vampire serving Strahd (Nev Van’shir) is another vampire I used for someone else's background, so it was kind of fun thinking how these might be indirectly tied. :)
Whatever you like - or don't like - please tell me - and feel free to be as honest as possible! I promise I won't be offended! :)
Please let me know if this works for you!
Enjoy!
================================================== ==

Two hundred years ago, under the cover of darkness, watched only by the moon whose hue was a deep red color called the Blood Moon, Nev Van’shir, an ancient vampire and servant to Strahd Von Zarovich, murdered thirty Paladins devoted to Eldath, the Goddess of Peace as a part of the ongoing war between darkness and light.

Nev Van’shir used a weapon called Bloodthirst which was directly connected to Strahd Von Zarovich in many ways. For example, the blade did not need to deliver the killing blow, it only had to cut the victim and draw blood. Once the blood was drawn it would create a connection to Strahd Von Zarovich that allowed him to “drink” the energy which helped feed his hunger.

Knowing that Nev Van’shir would be attacking the next town – the Paladins of Eldath prepared themselves and ambushed Nev Van’shir and gravely wounded the vampire who was forced to flee. However, in his attempt to escape, Bloodthirst was dropped and fell into the darkness of the night. Nev Van’shir was forced to make his escape without attempting to recover the blade.


That was two hundred years ago. The battle between darkness and light continues.

Vandal Morn was a Waterdhavian of the noble house Whiteraven. Waterdhavians are those born into a world of wealth and privilege and often regarded with great jealousy by others. Though Vandal had grown up with all of the benefits of wealth, including good schooling, a stable home, he had also squandered everything in orgy of self-indulgence.

Ashamed by his behavior his father confronted him. “You soil our name the way you soil your trousers, you drunkard fool. Your behavior has wrought shame to our family name.”

“What good is wealth if one does not enjoy it?” Vandal had asked, taking another deep drink from the bottle he held in his hand. “If we die without spending that which we have who will take it? It is better to live a life full of fulfilment.”

“This,” his father gestured, looking at the room, “is not fulfilment. This is how a commoner’s pig would live. And you will not live like this any longer. Not here.”

“What are you going to do? Cast me out? Your only son?” Vandal chuckled drunkenly.

The next moment Vandal recalled was standing outside the manor’s gate with no way back in.

Too many knew of Vandal and his family, and thus, Vandal’s reputation. He booked passage aboard a caravan and made a life for himself trading the jewelry and trading what he could. But more often than not, he fell back into his ways of debauchery and would lose what little he had gained.

No longer able to pay for passage on the caravan, they were forced to leave Vandal behind. As he walked along the dirt road, every sound he heard coming from the bushes sent him running and scouring to hide.

He saw an approaching group of people which he had mistook as gnomes initially, but as he drew closer, he saw it was a band of goblins traveling on the road. His heart sank as he realized he had sold off his last dagger.

He dove into the bushes just off the road and held his breath. As the goblins approached, one of them paused and looked at the road. “Somethin’ been here,” it growled as it pointed at the road. “Fresh tracks.”

Vandal knew that they would find him. Like a rabbit he began dashing deeper into the woods, which the goblins immediately heard. He could hear their gleeful cheering behind him mixed with their hoots and callings.

After running for over thirty minutes, the goblins showing no signs of giving up, Vandal stumbled into a clearing – the last thing he had wanted. Aside from the thundering beat of his heart in his chest, and his breath which seemed to be trying to escape his body, there were no sounds of nature.

Without giving it much more thought, he bolted across the clearing as quickly as he could, and without noticing fell directly into a small hole in the ground that sent him plunging down six feet into the earth. He tried to frantically climb out because of the goblins found him, it would be like spearing fish in a barrel. When the mud and muck prevented him from getting a solid hold, he finally sunk to the ground and realized he would die like a pig in mud, like his father had predicted.

He watched from the pit as the sun passed over, then the moon, then the sun again. He noticed, because there was nothing else to do, that the entire day and night, not a single sound could be heard – no birds, deer, owls – nothing.

Believing he was safe, Vandal tried to climb again, and this time as he tried to stand, his hand touched something that seemed to send a spark of energy through his body. He looked down and saw the hilt of a blade sticking out from the mud. He reached down and pulled it out – and for a brief moment – had a vision of a pale being, bathed in blood, slaying armored men.

He had tried to drop it – but something refused to let him go. The jet-black sword seemed to have a crackling energy about it, like static. “Take me,” he heard the voice in his head as the blade shimmered as if made of onyx, “and you will never be afraid again. I must drink the blood of those who stand before you – never do I need the killing blow – only a taste is needed.” The voice was soothing and calming, despite the tone of the message.

Feeling the blade’s power in him, he felt rejuvenated and pulled himself out of the hole. As he walked towards that path and entered the forest beyond the clearing, he could hear the unmistakable chatter of goblins. He assumed they were discussing entering the odd clearing or not. Instead, Vandal made the choice for them as he stepped into their camp, their campfire casting shadows across his face.

That night, six desperate goblins cried out their final time.

Vandal stepped onto the path and wiped the blood away.

He had literally and figuratively, climbed out of the hole that was his life and now had a new sense of purpose.

[Jaryn]

Yeah I figured I might have dove too deep into noir... but having never really read - let alone written it - but knew of the general theme. Once I put on the music for it, my fingers took off running, trying to keep up with my mind.

Well please take my compliments for both fingers and mind - really enjoyed reading it - I could almost hear the music in the background! 😀

[Tawmis]

Temp Name: Aleyr [Last Name to be filled depending on backstory or if I just find something that sounds nice]
Race: Human
Age: mid-20's
Class: Battle Master 3, Kensei 5, & [1 level of either rogue (Thief) or ranger (Gloom Stalker) as I believe we're likely to reach that level by the time I submit my character sheet to my DM]
Trinket Rolled: An iron holy symbol devoted to an unknown god (not the biggest fan of playing religious characters however)
Alignment: Kinda Lawful, mostly neutral; Focused on what's pragmatic primarily
Gameplay-wise, this character is a marksman that grapples (think John Wick), uses the alchemic tools and improvised weapons to supplement that, and potentially dabbles in clerical ritual magic.
I'm mainly looking for a point to jump from, I've spent a lot of time on build creation and haven't really done much work on the character itself.
I'd like background threads my DM can play with if possible.

Speaking of... my current party consists of a elven monk, elven ranger, and senile human wizard. Elven monk is visting temples on a kind of pilgrimage, the ranger has some history with the raven queen and is an outcast amongst his kind, and the old wizard is trying to fight his weird alzheimer-like disease to find a method of freeing someone that he accidentally trapped when he was at full power. Oh and there was a former party member - an Aasimar Paladin - that went dark side. I've taken the Discovery feat from the Hermit background, but there's no real need to stick to the hermitage.
I naturally tend to play cheerful and chaotic characters so the occasional stint of that wouldn't be amiss in a more serious background.
Thank you in advance.

I wasn't sure how your party came together - so I didn't touch that part.
I did go into how he becomes a Battle Master and may have some Kensei going for him.
The Thief/Ranger portion is easily adapted because of how I made him a "survivor" (and while not a "hermit" - definitely poverty life style of his own choosing)...
Anyway - hope this works! Please let me know - what you like, hate, what works, what doesn't!
I am always up for revisiting and rewriting (but doing others who are still awaiting theirs first, so that everyone gets something!)
Please do enjoy!
=============================
Forged in fire, steel in bent and shaped, by the smith, to make the perfect weapon.

I have treated my body as weapon since I was ten years old. I have pushed myself to the limits, and then taken the next step beyond, until I was nearly broken. Day in, day out, I spent practicing sword play with a Kendo Shinai Bamboo sword.

By the age of twelve, my father had created a parkour course for me to rigorously train in. By the age of sixteen, he included weapons and targets for me to find. It became a mixture of the timing to complete the course as well as how many bullseyes I could hit with the crossbows, daggers and bows he had sprinkled throughout the course.

By the age of eighteen I was the weapon my father had forged.

“You have done well, Aleyr,” my father said proudly, patting me on the shoulder. “Now you are the arrow that I will unleash upon the world. It is time for you to leave this course and find your own path that will contain just as many obstacles; some of which will seek to destroy you.”

“I understand father,” I nodded.

I took nothing with me, because I did not need the weight of coin and my past to burden my present and my future. As such, for several years, I lived the life of poverty and seclusion. On a caravan I had taken refuge with I met a wonderful woman named Tella Nohar. She was human, older than me, but not much; or she didn’t appear to be much older. Her eyes were grey in color, but her hair was a vibrant blond that had been decorated in endless curls. Like me, she had no money to speak of, and the kind souls of the caravan had thought to help her at least get to the next town safely.

One night, while we had been sitting around the campfire, the other two wagons pulled off the road with us, she touched my hand and told me that she enjoyed my company immensely. I stared into her grey eyes – but my focus changed to something behind her.

The world began to move in slow motion.

I shoved her sideways, just as an arrow came from the bushes behind her. It struck me directly in the shoulder. There was a brief amount of pain, but my training had trained me how to shut off pain in my body. I stood up as three goblins sprung forward from the brush.

One immediately lunged at me, grappling with me. That was its first mistake. I looked at the campfire and kicked the hilt of the steel pan that had been cooking the night’s stew, which landed directly on the goblin who was how screeching in pain as his flesh bubbled over.

I grabbed the arrow from my shoulder, snapped it off, and quickly drove it under the goblin’s chin which immediately ceased its screaming. I could hear the second goblin rushing at me from the side. Tella was just beginning to stand when I ran, and as I sprang from her body, whispered, “Truly sorry about this,” and landed on the other goblin. Unbeknownst to Tella, as I spring-boarded from her back, I had also removed her belt, which I used to wrap around the goblin’s neck, then immediately took it and wrapped it over a tree back and buckled it. The belt constricted around the goblin’s neck like a boa, and after a few minutes it stopped struggling as the last bit of air escaped his lungs.

Now where was the third one? Running away. How typical. I grabbed the lid of one of the wine barrels and hurled it with enough for that when it struck the back of the goblin’s neck a disgusting crunch.The foul beast crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

The other folks on the wagon had barely had enough time to reach for a weapon before the fight was over. They looked at me, mouths gapped open in shock, as I kneeled and picked up the pot. “My apologies, it would seem we are without stew tonight. I will go hunting and find us something to eat.”

I checked on Tella who was still in shock and not entirely sure what had happened. She glanced around and saw three dead goblins all of which had been killed in just under a minute. “How did you do this?”

“I’ve spent my entire life honing myself to be a weapon,” I replied. “I am the arrow that my father has launched into the world.”

“You’re amazing,” she smiled.

For the next two years, Tella and I travelled together. There was more to our relationship than just friendship. On more than one night we consummated it to be more.

One night, while staying at The Unicorn’s Trail Inn, I awoke, and she was gone. On her pillow was a iron holy symbol of some kind. I wasn’t the religious type, but it wasn’t anything I recognized before. When I took it to the local Church, even they were puzzled by its markings – but everyone who examined it said the same thing; it was ancient.

Had someone come and taken her? Left this as some kind of warning? Or had she, without warning, decided to leave, and leave me this? Was it a clue to go find her? I couldn’t help but notice the iron of this unusual symbol was the same color of her grey eyes…

[moonfly7]

So, you've helped me before, I was wondering if I might impose upon you again.
I have an, interesting, character idea.
Race: drow
Gender: female
Class: oath breaker paladin/light cleric(ypu choose the god/goddess goddess makes more sense for drow though)
Alignment: some form of good, either choatic or neutral, your choice
So, I don't have a name for her yet, you can choose that if you want, but I have a bare bones idea.
She was a conquest paladin of lolth, working as an enforcer and aquisition expert for the slaving parties that would sometimes hit the surface. Somehow, she becomes injured, and rescued by surface dwellers. They might be an adventuring party, a church, kind villagers, I don't know. Anyways, overtime spent recuperating amongst these people, she decides that lolths teachings are wrong, and renounces her goddess and her oath. Becoming oath breaker. Eventually, she becomes a light cleric, and works to spread her deities faith, and protect others(kindling and spreading the light), but she never takes another oath, staying an oath breaker.
Also she still has lots of issues with shaking off drow culture. For instance, she'll sometimes forget herself, and for a momemt or two judge others simply because they aren't drow. Also, she no longer considees men inferior or slave labor, but she has a ways to go until she sees them as her equals without tgem proving it first.
Don't feel like you have to do this, I know your busy with everyone else, so either way thank you!

[Tawmis]

Hey, long time lurker but finally convinced to register and post by this.
Thank you!

The fact that you registered JUST for this - I am absolutely honored and floored. I'd be VERY happy to do this!

So, you've helped me before, I was wondering if I might impose upon you again.
I have an, interesting, character idea.
Don't feel like you have to do this, I know your busy with everyone else, so either way thank you!

I will be happy to do this (is this spawned from the Oathbreaker thread where the Oathbreaker is not evil?).

Would just have to do the ones before yours (doing these in order as I get them between meetings at work). Shhhh! :)

[Tawmis]

Hey, long time lurker but finally convinced to register and post by this.
Starting a new campaign and would really appreciate help writing up character background. Got some ideas, but not good at translating them to the page.
Name: Corin Shadowblade
Race: Half-elf
Class: Rogue
Background: Urchin
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Idea is that his human mother was a slave in the underdark, father was a follower of Eilistraee. When Corin born, they attempted to escape. Father turned back to buy time fighting off a hunting party. Mother made it to the surface and settled in a city.
Six years of normal life before she dies of illness, Corin grows up on the streets. Joins a gang to survive. When older he realizes that it's not just survival, they're doing some stuff that crosses his ethical lines and leaves.
Becomes a troubleshooter/adventurer/tries to lookout for the less fortunate.
Probably going to multiclass into fighter, influences are Nightrunner series and Daredevil.
Thank you!

Again - thank you for the flattery of mention you registered (after lurking for awhile!) just for this thread!
I hope that I was able to capture what you were looking for because this is such an honor!
I name your father (with a different last name) - but explain how you come up with your last name!
As always I welcome ALL feedback! Tell me what you didn't like! Or what you DID like!
I love hearing it all - it helps me! And also bumps the thread and keeps it active!
Enjoy!
================================================== ==============
My mother is a beautiful woman.

A human who looks much older than she really is. Her long, golden, hair once shimmered like the morning sun, but now was streaked with strands of silver. Her blue eyes, once as bright as a cloudless sky, now looked as if they were grey storm clouds. Her skin, once perfect and youthful, was aged and full of endless amounts of scars that ran along her body, as if hay from the horses had blown all over here and cut her a thousand times.

My mother had been traveling with her family, across a massive mountain range, when a band of Drow Elves surfaced and spotted them while hunting. Most of her family was killed. She was dragged below the surface and into the Underdark where she was forced into slavery. Other members of her family who survived were not so fortunate. The gruesome things done to her family; the sounds of their screams haunted her. They beat her and whipped her for anything she might do wrong and sometimes things she had nothing to do with, but just happen to be close.

But during her time in slavery, my mother met the man who would be my father – Draz’ture Tal’shore. My father, a Drow Elf was one of the few who worshiped Eilistraee, a goddess of song, dance, goodness and beauty, rather than Lolth who thrived on war – especially against those on the surface world. Many followers of Eilistraee had hoped to one day find a new life, away from the dangers of the Underdark, among others – including their cousins, the Elves on the surface.

When my mother became pregnant with me, the amount of torture she endured was doubled. If it was insufferable before, it was infinitely worse now and the Drow took greater pleasure. The time came when my father knew that soon the child in her womb would perish if the abuse continued. In a last-ditch effort, he used the pick he had been given to mine to cleave into the nearest slaver’s neck. Blood splashed everywhere as my father frantically searched the slaver for keys. Grabbing the keys which nearly slid of his blood-soaked fingers, he then grabbed the slaver’s scimitar and grabbed my mother by the hand. She knew the way to the surface from being dragged below years ago, but the Drow Slavers were not giving pursuit.

As they moved as quickly as they could, my mother, now seven months pregnant could barely waddle along through the dangerous path. My father knew what had to be done if she had any hope of escaping. He turned to her, tears brimming in his violet eyes, “You must run. Go.”

“I can’t leave you,” she cried.

“If you stay, you damn us all,” he said. “Please,” he begged, “give my child a better life than this. I will live on through him.” And with that, he did not await her response, and turned to run back down the hall, holding the scimitar over his head. My mother waited only a moment longer, crying hysterically as she began to feverishly resume her climb. She could hear the clanging of steel behind her, and the sounds of screams – but soon the clashing stopped, and she knew he had fallen to the Drow. She tumbled out of the cavern and ran blindly, tripping over a stone and falling.

She awoke the following day, her ankle broken, but still free. She hobbled down the mountain side and made her way to a nearby village where the Priests took her in and tended to her grievous wounds. One month later I was born into the world.

The priests had offered to take care of my mother, but she saw the way they stared at me. Being Half Drow gave me a very unique look, that easily distinguished my bloodline. My mother and I lived on the streets where I learned to steal for a living.

My mother had tried to stop me, more than once, because I was stealing. But I only stole from the rich, who I assumed could afford to sacrifice a little bit of their coin for well deserving souls such as my mother. We lived like this for six years before a mysterious illness took her from me.

One day, a group of adventurers came through the town, weighed down in treasures and weapons. I had gone to steal from the Fighter, who seemed rather careless with his gold pouch. Just as I was about to cut the strings, I overheard him speaking of their latest adventure and all the treasure they’d found. It got me wondering what might be out there for me.

I let that fighter keep his gold that night as payment for providing me the idea of going out to discover the world.

I did however take his dagger he had strapped to his belt. That was too nice to leave. It was a unique looking dagger that had a black steel. A Shadowblade, I called it.

And that was the surname I adopted for myself.

My name is Corin Shadowblade world. I am coming for you.

[moonfly7]

The fact that you registered JUST for this - I am absolutely honored and floored. I'd be VERY happy to do this!



I will be happy to do this (is this spawned from the Oathbreaker thread where the Oathbreaker is not evil?).

Would just have to do the ones before yours (doing these in order as I get them between meetings at work). Shhhh! :)

Nah, had this brewing for awhile before that. I did mention it there though.

[Tawmis]

Well please take my compliments for both fingers and mind - really enjoyed reading it - I could almost hear the music in the background! 😀

I feel honored that so many have not only trusted me to journey with their characters - but enjoy what the Bard in me shares across the land!

Nah, had this brewing for awhile before that. I did mention it there though.

I was going to write something for that Oathbreaker thread - in this thread - and tell them to look here. ;) #AGoodBardKnowsHowToAdvertise

[Tawmis]

I love your backgrounds so far, keep up the good work. Here is mine for a new character I just made, this is what I've come up with so far if you can help me expand.

Name: Bloodmaw the Baptiser
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Oathbreaker Paladin

Personality traits: I crush those I can defeat, and lie in wait to weaken and overwhelm those I must respect.
Ideals: Cruelty: Strength without regular demonstrations of its potential is an empty weapon.
Flaws: The world is my hunting ground. Others are my prey.
Background: Soldier/Mercenary Veteran, Was a Paladin of Tyr, but changed into an oathbreaker paladin who found power in Baphomet during a moment of crisis during battle when it looked lost. Realizing that his commander was weak, he left his company and struck out on his own, becoming a cultist of Baphomet. Now he seeks to test himself in battle and find ancient relics that could enrich his power. Uses a greataxe and wears plate.

I rarely get to write evil characters...! So this was fun! Especially showing his fall from grace...
It was easy for me to weave a reason for your character to be an Oathbreaker once I started...!
Please let me know what you like, hate, what worked, what didn't! Replies not only help keep me going, they also help me learning if I am reading people correctly, and it also keeps the thread alive and bumped for others to discover!
Please let me know your thoughts! Enjoy!
=======================================
When I was young, I lived on the streets, as most Half-Orcs do, rejected by both sides of their heritage. One such pocket I tried to pick, desperate for coin so that I could put food in my stomach that growled like a furious chimera, happened to be that of a Paladin. He was on his way to donate a large pouch of coin from one of his most recent adventures.

Before I even got my hands on the pouch, he’d grabbed my hand. “Tyr lost his hand to a hound,” he smiled, “do not lose yours to me.”

My eyes saw the balanced scales resting on a warhammer symbol on his scapula and immediately recognized him as a Paladin of Tyr.

He sized me up before releasing my hand, “Orc blood in your veins,” he said, noting my facial features bore a brutish look. “You’d best be careful. Try to steal from someone again, that may kill you because of that blood in your veins and not a single person would blink an eye as your blood filled the cobblestone crevices.”

“Not even a Paladin?” I retorted.

The Paladin, with his long black hair, nicely trimmed beard, but long mustache looked at me. “Well, you do have some brains in you, boy. Do you have a home too?”

“The streets,” I growled back.

“The streets,” he repeated. “How about I make you a deal? You stay with me and learn the way of Tyr. We could use someone with your skill and strength.”

His name was Dren Ravenmane – the first person I ever remember showing me any compassion. He fed me, kept me off the streets, taught me to fight.

During one of our training sessions, he had struck my shield hard, sending me stumbling back over my feet. I feel an anger surge in me as I jumped to my feet and began to swing wildly. Dren parried each of the blows easily, laughing at me as he did so, as if this were all some game. Then, when I was tired, he slammed his shield into mine and knocked me on the ground. He towered over me. “Do you see what happened?”

“I got angry,” I admitted.

“You gave in to the orc blood in your veins,” he said as he extended his platemail hand. “And that made you reckless; swinging wildly. Before you knew it, you were winded and I was able to knock you back down onto the ground.”

It was four years, with Dren Ravenmane pleading with the Order, to allow me entrance to the Order. My Orcish appearance had caused all of them great hesitation, despite the praises Dren had given me. But on that fourth years, knowing that a war had been brewing, I was accepted into the Order and through a great ceremony, joined sixty others who became Paladins of Tyr.

We were sent to the Golden Coast because there had been news of the Bloodtide Minotaurs making landfall and ravishing coastal towns. Dren was a part of that deployment, I believe, because the Order had wanted him to keep an eye on me or at the very least keep me under control.

News came on night while patrolling the coastlines that The Starboard Harbor was under attack. We rode our horses hard and arrived to see Bloodtide Minotaurs running through the city cutting down anyone who stood in their way. None of us hesitated as we jumped from our horses directly into battle. I admit that I looked for the tallest of these Minotaur hoping he might be the leader. One Minotaur stood out above the rest. His fur coloring was a rusty, red color, and one of his horns had been severed, and still he towered two feet over his companions.

I cut my way through his army so that I could reach him. He was stunned to see someone had gotten so close, but it wasn’t fear in his eyes. He was pleased.

War has never been about courage. War has always been about madness.

A willingness to accept that the next few seconds may be your final moment.

I walked a thin line of embracing that madness and keeping the Orcish side of my bloodline in check.

As this towering Minotaur engaged in combat with me, he was easily shoving me aside and deflecting my blows, his deep red eyes bore into my soul. “You’re holding back,” his voice boomed in my ears. “Did these human teach you to fear your Orcish bloodline? That you might give in to what your other half normally does? Kill? Murder? Without it,” he slammed me into a wall, “you will never defeat me.” He brought his leg, rippling with muscle upon muscle, into my gut and knocked the wind out of me. While I was bent over, he then brought the hilt of his sword on my neck, sending me to the ground. “And as long as you don’t embrace it, this is where you will always be, licking my hooves. Where is your god now? Why does he not protect you from me? Do you know why? Because Baphomet encourages our madness! He encourages us to spread chaos, death and destruction! Just like the blood in you screams to do! So what will it be boy?”

He picked me up by my hair and made eye contact with me. He knew in that moment I could have plunged my weapon through him, but he was confident he had broken me.

My bloodline of Orcish taint had always worshipped those who were stronger. My eyes looked around me as I hung painfully by the mane of my hair and saw those who had been prejudiced against me, who feared me and refused me, for four long years, fall before the Bloodtide. Somewhere I saw even Dren overwhelmed by the Minotaurs.

I looked back at the towering Minotaur. “I embrace Baphomet,” I whispered, “only if he allows me to be who I truly am.”

The towering Minotaur discarded me to the side. “Perfect. Take off the symbol of Helm and burn it. Shout to the heavens that you deny him and that you now embrace Baphomet!” As I torn off my scapula, I saw Dren rise above the Minotaur army for a brief moment and scream something at me, before he – and several other Minotaur – fell off the pier and into the water.

I could feel the shadow and darkness erupting in my soul like a volcano that had finally been able to burst its ashes into heavens. Bloodmane looked at me, “You will Baptize the world in blood.”

For several months I sailed with Bloodmane, the leader of the Bloodtide, before I explained that Baphomet had given me a vision to ravage the land while wearing the scapula that bore the symbol of Baphomet.

During one of our coastal raids, Bloodmane and I parted ways.

In the back of my mind, I had wondered if Dren had perished when he fell off the pier… wearing platemail, he must have sunk quickly…

[moonfly7]

I feel honored that so many have not only trusted me to journey with their characters - but enjoy what the Bard in me shares across the land!



I was going to write something for that Oathbreaker thread - in this thread - and tell them to look here. ;) #AGoodBardKnowsHowToAdvertise

That, is what we call quality advertisement

[Tawmis]

So, you've helped me before, I was wondering if I might impose upon you again.
I have an, interesting, character idea.
Race: drow
Gender: female
Class: oath breaker paladin/light cleric(ypu choose the god/goddess goddess makes more sense for drow though)
Alignment: some form of good, either choatic or neutral, your choice
So, I don't have a name for her yet, you can choose that if you want, but I have a bare bones idea.
She was a conquest paladin of lolth, working as an enforcer and aquisition expert for the slaving parties that would sometimes hit the surface. Somehow, she becomes injured, and rescued by surface dwellers. They might be an adventuring party, a church, kind villagers, I don't know. Anyways, overtime spent recuperating amongst these people, she decides that lolths teachings are wrong, and renounces her goddess and her oath. Becoming oath breaker. Eventually, she becomes a light cleric, and works to spread her deities faith, and protect others(kindling and spreading the light), but she never takes another oath, staying an oath breaker.
Also she still has lots of issues with shaking off drow culture. For instance, she'll sometimes forget herself, and for a momemt or two judge others simply because they aren't drow. Also, she no longer considees men inferior or slave labor, but she has a ways to go until she sees them as her equals without tgem proving it first.
Don't feel like you have to do this, I know your busy with everyone else, so either way thank you!

So I did something... unique for this. So I have used other names from other backgrounds I've done (Bar'garius as a demon has popped up in several people's backgrounds where I needed a demon, the Red Eye Clan for Orcs have also popped up)... but this time... I directly tied yours to another character history in this thread. Naturally, neither is required to make it all make sense - but yours comes from a different POV, since that person's history dealt with Drow (he was a Half-Elf with a Drow father, human mother)... I made yours from the Drow perspective... Well, I won't spoil it further...
I will, as always, ask for feedback posted in this thread! It helps keep it active and bumped for others to discover!
So let me know what you liked, didn't like, and all that fun stuff!
Enjoy!
===============================================

Sureena Pyre’sin patrolled the upper edges of the slave pits. Her deep, dark skin were a sharp contrast to her unusually piercing blue eyes. Her wispy, white hair flowed to the middle of her back, and seemed to be made of thin, delicate, webs of Lolth’s making.

A loyal servant to Lolth, Sureena Pyre’sin had dedicated her life to the Spider Queen and had become one of Lolth’s most devote Paladins in this section of the Underdark. Most knew her name and feared her, rightfully so. She was the spear of Lolth, as many called her – leading the charge on surface raids at night to ambush, gather and abduct slaves for the pits of the Underdark.

Having recently successfully raid against a family passing through the mountain range, she took great pleasure in seeing in seeing her newest acquisitions put to work. There was one among them, a human female, whom she had taken a great interest in ensuring that she was put to work. A human woman, tall, slender, flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes, who Sureena Pyre’sin considered to be too beautiful and needed to be broken.

It did not escape Sureena Pyre’sin’s attention that the woman, despite being a slave, had begun developing a relationship with Draz’ture Tal’shore, a Drow who had cast away the teachings of Lolth and instead worshipped Eilistraee, the goddess of song, dance, goodness and beauty. Such Drow who would turn away from the glory of Lolth disgusted Sureena Pyre’sin.

Sureena Pyre’sin watched in secrecy when the woman and Draz’ture had consummated their love for each other and let it happen because they would take the child and raise in the slave pits when it was strong enough to hold a pickaxe.

When the woman was just shy of delivering the child, Sureena Pyre’sin witnessed the unthinkable. Draz’ture took his pickaxe to the nearest slaver and plunged into their forehead. The Drow slaver collapsed and Draz’ture jumped on him and tore the keys from his belt and immediately ran to the woman and unlocked her shackles as well.

Sureena Pyre’sin began rushing along the side of the slave pit, her ice blue eyes watching as the two began escaping towards the same tunnel that Sureena Pyre’sin had dragged the woman through nine months ago. The woman was pregnant, she would not get far before being captured. Sureena Pyre’sin raced down the stone stairs and joined in the pursuit of Draz’ture and his human lover.

She was surprised when Draz’ture turned to face the Drow Slavers. The woman said something to him, and Sureena Pyre’sin could see she was crying. Weakness. That’s what love is. Breed to feed the numbers and ensure the army stays strong. There’s no need for the emotional attachments that come with mating.

To Sureena’s surprise, Draz’ture had managed to kill six slavers, as he bought time for his lover to escape further up the tunnel. “Move!” she barked, as she slammed her sword against her shield and marched towards Draz’ture.

Draz’ture knew of Sureena’s reputation. He knew this is where he would die. He thrust forward with the scimitar he had stolen from the first slaver, but she put up her shield so that his body turned with the curve of the shield, leaving his body exposed. With a smile as cold as death, her eyes blue eyes flickered as blood splattered across her face as her sword cleaved the edge of his throat. His body collapsed on the ground.

She looked up the passageway and began pursuing the woman. The platemail armor was slowing her down, so she began discarding it as she climbed up the passageway. Just as she reached the surface, she was struck with a rock across the head by the woman who heard her coming up the passageway.

Sureena awoke, her eyes fluttering open. Her eyes scanned the room and she could only see a wooden roof above her. She wasn’t anywhere she recognized. She tried to sit up and found she could not. Was she being restrained? She could barely move her neck. Was it magic?

Just then an old human approached her and sat next to her. “Good. You’re awake. You’ve been in the dream state for over a week. We weren’t sure if you were going to come out of it.”

“Where am I,” Sureena rasped, her voice sounding broken. She peered at the human cautiously. “What have you done to me?”

“What have I done to you?” the human crossed his legs. “I’ve done nothing to you. I found you at the bottom of a mountain, barely alive. From the looks of it, you took a fall off the path and fell nearly sixty feet to the hard, stone, ground that greeted you painfully.”

“I can’t feel anything,” she growled.

“You’re paralyzed,” the human replied, his voice mournful. “From what I can tell, from the neck down you can no longer move.” He looked at her. “You’re one of them aren’t you?”

“One of who,” she sneered.

“The Shadow Elves,” he replied. “The ones who live in the mountains and raid and steal our people in the middle of the night?”

“We’re called Drow,” she corrected. Though completely helpless and at the mercy of this old, feeble human, Sureena did not lose her courage. “My people will come for me.”

But it had already been a week if the human was telling the truth and they had not come for her.

The human smiled as if reading her thoughts. “They came for you. We displayed you outside of our village as a token to take you and leave us… They saw you in your state… unresponsive… and left you.”

“They left me?” she scoffed. “You lie!”

He shook his head. “You know I am not lying.”

“So why am I here?” she growled. “If you know I am one of ‘them’ as you call us, why are you helping me?”

“Because we hold all lives sacred,” he explained. “We would health a wounded lion back to full health, knowing that one day it may hunt us down.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she laughed. “You would aid your enemy!”

“What you see as ridiculous, we see as preserving the Light of Hope,” he smiled and stood.

“Hope is for the foolish,” she replied.

“Then,” he turned and looked at her as he left the room, “you will be there for all eternity. Unless you too hope to one day walk again.” He closed the door behind her.

She lay there fuming with anger.

For days and weeks, he tended to her, feeding her, and bathing her. She hated that a human would be touching her divine skin. Where was Lolth? Why had she abandoned her most loyal Paladin?

For the next several months, she watched as the people of the village sang and danced and celebrated life. She grew more and more envious of their ability to move freely.

One night it wasn’t the old man who paid her a visit, but another Drow. She was beautiful. More stunning than anyone Sureena had seen before. The woman touched her hand. “You feel it do you not? The desire to move, to be free, to dance.”

Sureena did not respond.

“Sureena,” the Drow woman said, “it can be yours.”

Sureena turned to face her. “How do you know my name?”

“That is not important,” the Drow woman smiled. Her milky black skin and violet eyes seemed to pull at Sureena. “Will you take my hand and dance?”

“I can’t move,” Sureena retorted. “I can’t do anything but lay here.”

“Take my hand,” the woman said, extending her hand just inches away from Sureena’s.

“I can’t, woman,” Sureena replied angrily. “Did you not hear me?”

“Have you tried?” the Drow woman smiled.

Sureena looked at her arm and willed it to rise. Much to her surprise she was able to lift her arm. She placed her hand into the hand of the mysterious Drow woman.

Then… it happened.

A bright flash.

Sureena was not only dancing, she was jumping from star to star in the heavens, with the woman still holding her hand. “This,” the woman said, smiling, “is what it is to be free. To dance. To love. It is not just that your body is paralyzed,” she spun Sureena, “but your mind and your heart are. Lolth had forged a wall there to prevent you from knowing the joy of life. You are free of that now.”

The woman kissed Sureena on the forehead. “You are free.”

Sureena opened her eyes and sat up.

“Eilistraee,” she whispered.

She stumbled outside and much to the surprise of the others joined them in the merriment of their laughter and dancing.

The Old Man had come to sit next to her after a while. “She came to you then?”

Sureena looked at the old man.

She spent the next few weeks training before she was ready to visit the world. She slid on her new scapula which bore the symbol of a sword in front of the moon – though she had broken her oath with Lolth – she now proudly served Eilistraee, and for the first time, felt hope, light and love coursing through her veins.

[Bjarkmundur]

so i did something... Unique for this. So i have used other names from other backgrounds i've done (bar'garius as a demon has popped up in several people's backgrounds where i needed a demon, the red eye clan for orcs have also popped up)... But this time... I directly tied yours to another character history in this thread.

tawmis-canon!
Tawmisverse!
Tawmsonian lore!
Yes!

[moonfly7]

So I did something... unique for this. So I have used other names from other backgrounds I've done (Bar'garius as a demon has popped up in several people's backgrounds where I needed a demon, the Red Eye Clan for Orcs have also popped up)... but this time... I directly tied yours to another character history in this thread. Naturally, neither is required to make it all make sense - but yours comes from a different POV, since that person's history dealt with Drow (he was a Half-Elf with a Drow father, human mother)... I made yours from the Drow perspective... Well, I won't spoil it further...
I will, as always, ask for feedback posted in this thread! It helps keep it active and bumped for others to discover!
So let me know what you liked, didn't like, and all that fun stuff!
Enjoy!
===============================================
Also she still has lots of issues with shaking off drow culture. For instance, she'll sometimes forget herself, and for a momemt or two judge others simply because they aren't drow. Also, she no longer considees men inferior or slave labor, but she has a ways to go until she sees them as her equals without tgem proving it first.
Don't feel like you have to do this, I know your busy with everyone else, so either way thank you!

Sureena Pyre’sin patrolled the upper edges of the slave pits. Her deep, dark skin were a sharp contrast to her unusually piercing blue eyes. Her wispy, white hair flowed to the middle of her back, and seemed to be made of thin, delicate, webs of Lolth’s making.

A loyal servant to Lolth, Sureena Pyre’sin had dedicated her life to the Spider Queen and had become one of Lolth’s most devote Paladins in this section of the Underdark. Most knew her name and feared her, rightfully so. She was the spear of Lolth, as many called her – leading the charge on surface raids at night to ambush, gather and abduct slaves for the pits of the Underdark.

Having recently successfully raid against a family passing through the mountain range, she took great pleasure in seeing in seeing her newest acquisitions put to work. There was one among them, a human female, whom she had taken a great interest in ensuring that she was put to work. A human woman, tall, slender, flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes, who Sureena Pyre’sin considered to be too beautiful and needed to be broken.

It did not escape Sureena Pyre’sin’s attention that the woman, despite being a slave, had begun developing a relationship with Draz’ture Tal’shore, a Drow who had cast away the teachings of Lolth and instead worshipped Eilistraee, the goddess of song, dance, goodness and beauty. Such Drow who would turn away from the glory of Lolth disgusted Sureena Pyre’sin.

Sureena Pyre’sin watched in secrecy when the woman and Draz’ture had consummated their love for each other and let it happen because they would take the child and raise in the slave pits when it was strong enough to hold a pickaxe.

When the woman was just shy of delivering the child, Sureena Pyre’sin witnessed the unthinkable. Draz’ture took his pickaxe to the nearest slaver and plunged into their forehead. The Drow slaver collapsed and Draz’ture jumped on him and tore the keys from his belt and immediately ran to the woman and unlocked her shackles as well.

Sureena Pyre’sin began rushing along the side of the slave pit, her ice blue eyes watching as the two began escaping towards the same tunnel that Sureena Pyre’sin had dragged the woman through nine months ago. The woman was pregnant, she would not get far before being captured. Sureena Pyre’sin raced down the stone stairs and joined in the pursuit of Draz’ture and his human lover.

She was surprised when Draz’ture turned to face the Drow Slavers. The woman said something to him, and Sureena Pyre’sin could see she was crying. Weakness. That’s what love is. Breed to feed the numbers and ensure the army stays strong. There’s no need for the emotional attachments that come with mating.

To Sureena’s surprise, Draz’ture had managed to kill six slavers, as he bought time for his lover to escape further up the tunnel. “Move!” she barked, as she slammed her sword against her shield and marched towards Draz’ture.

Draz’ture knew of Sureena’s reputation. He knew this is where he would die. He thrust forward with the scimitar he had stolen from the first slaver, but she put up her shield so that his body turned with the curve of the shield, leaving his body exposed. With a smile as cold as death, her eyes blue eyes flickered as blood splattered across her face as her sword cleaved the edge of his throat. His body collapsed on the ground.

She looked up the passageway and began pursuing the woman. The platemail armor was slowing her down, so she began discarding it as she climbed up the passageway. Just as she reached the surface, she was struck with a rock across the head by the woman who heard her coming up the passageway.

Sureena awoke, her eyes fluttering open. Her eyes scanned the room and she could only see a wooden roof above her. She wasn’t anywhere she recognized. She tried to sit up and found she could not. Was she being restrained? She could barely move her neck. Was it magic?

Just then an old human approached her and sat next to her. “Good. You’re awake. You’ve been in the dream state for over a week. We weren’t sure if you were going to come out of it.”

“Where am I,” Sureena rasped, her voice sounding broken. She peered at the human cautiously. “What have you done to me?”

“What have I done to you?” the human crossed his legs. “I’ve done nothing to you. I found you at the bottom of a mountain, barely alive. From the looks of it, you took a fall off the path and fell nearly sixty feet to the hard, stone, ground that greeted you painfully.”

“I can’t feel anything,” she growled.

“You’re paralyzed,” the human replied, his voice mournful. “From what I can tell, from the neck down you can no longer move.” He looked at her. “You’re one of them aren’t you?”

“One of who,” she sneered.

“The Shadow Elves,” he replied. “The ones who live in the mountains and raid and steal our people in the middle of the night?”

“We’re called Drow,” she corrected. Though completely helpless and at the mercy of this old, feeble human, Sureena did not lose her courage. “My people will come for me.”

But it had already been a week if the human was telling the truth and they had not come for her.

The human smiled as if reading her thoughts. “They came for you. We displayed you outside of our village as a token to take you and leave us… They saw you in your state… unresponsive… and left you.”

“They left me?” she scoffed. “You lie!”

He shook his head. “You know I am not lying.”

“So why am I here?” she growled. “If you know I am one of ‘them’ as you call us, why are you helping me?”

“Because we hold all lives sacred,” he explained. “We would health a wounded lion back to full health, knowing that one day it may hunt us down.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she laughed. “You would aid your enemy!”

“What you see as ridiculous, we see as preserving the Light of Hope,” he smiled and stood.

“Hope is for the foolish,” she replied.

“Then,” he turned and looked at her as he left the room, “you will be there for all eternity. Unless you too hope to one day walk again.” He closed the door behind her.

She lay there fuming with anger.

For days and weeks, he tended to her, feeding her, and bathing her. She hated that a human would be touching her divine skin. Where was Lolth? Why had she abandoned her most loyal Paladin?

For the next several months, she watched as the people of the village sang and danced and celebrated life. She grew more and more envious of their ability to move freely.

One night it wasn’t the old man who paid her a visit, but another Drow. She was beautiful. More stunning than anyone Sureena had seen before. The woman touched her hand. “You feel it do you not? The desire to move, to be free, to dance.”

Sureena did not respond.

“Sureena,” the Drow woman said, “it can be yours.”

Sureena turned to face her. “How do you know my name?”

“That is not important,” the Drow woman smiled. Her milky black skin and violet eyes seemed to pull at Sureena. “Will you take my hand and dance?”

“I can’t move,” Sureena retorted. “I can’t do anything but lay here.”

“Take my hand,” the woman said, extending her hand just inches away from Sureena’s.

“I can’t, woman,” Sureena replied angrily. “Did you not hear me?”

“Have you tried?” the Drow woman smiled.

Sureena looked at her arm and willed it to rise. Much to her surprise she was able to lift her arm. She placed her hand into the hand of the mysterious Drow woman.

Then… it happened.

A bright flash.

Sureena was not only dancing, she was jumping from star to star in the heavens, with the woman still holding her hand. “This,” the woman said, smiling, “is what it is to be free. To dance. To love. It is not just that your body is paralyzed,” she spun Sureena, “but your mind and your heart are. Lolth had forged a wall there to prevent you from knowing the joy of life. You are free of that now.”

The woman kissed Sureena on the forehead. “You are free.”

Sureena opened her eyes and sat up.

“Eilistraee,” she whispered.

She stumbled outside and much to the surprise of the others joined them in the merriment of their laughter and dancing.

The Old Man had come to sit next to her after a while. “She came to you then?”

Sureena looked at the old man.

She spent the next few weeks training before she was ready to visit the world. She slid on her new scapula which bore the symbol of a sword in front of the moon – though she had broken her oath with Lolth – she now proudly served Eilistraee, and for the first time, felt hope, light and love coursing through her veins.

This, this is good. Its awesome.
(Is it bad if I want to send you every character concept thats ever been have made just so I can see more of your work?)

[Bjarkmundur]

This, this is good. Its awesome.
(Is it bad if I want to send you every character concept thats ever been have made just so I can see more of your work?)

I'm guilty of this x'D

[Tawmis]

tawmis-canon!
Tawmisverse!
Tawmsonian lore!
Yes!

I enjoyed using the same demon over and over, and the same Orc clan over and over - but this was the first time I saw a chance to tie two character stories together for two different people. And each stands on it's own as an individual background - but together shows more of a story! I enjoyed that little bit of creativity!

This, this is good. Its awesome.
(Is it bad if I want to send you every character concept thats ever been have made just so I can see more of your work?)

I'm guilty of this x'D

Thank you! I love hearing that I landed the mark! You guys (and gals!) give me the details - and I use that to step inside the character's life and see what I uncover.
As for posting more character concepts - honestly, I wholeheartedly welcome it.
I've said it before, but I enjoy delving into everyone's characters and ideally providing someone with something they can use!
But at the same time, I limit myself to an hour to write these (so I don't end up writing a 19 page background for someone!) - so these are wonderful creative exercises! So while I am helping those who submit characters, I am also helping myself. Being creative allows my brain to calm down at night and allow me to perhaps get a normal 8 hours of sleep. (Or at least 4 hours, just 4 hours is fine too, Mr. Brain...)

[Jaryn]

As for posting more character concepts - honestly, I wholeheartedly welcome it.

Hooray! This makes me happy 😊

Also I am enjoying watching the Tawmis-verse come together. It would be very interesting if Sureena and Corin came face to face one day, fighting side by side before eventually working out their shared history.

And now... *runs away to plan out a bard*

[moonfly7]

I enjoyed using the same demon over and over, and the same Orc clan over and over - but this was the first time I saw a chance to tie two character stories together for two different people. And each stands on it's own as an individual background - but together shows more of a story! I enjoyed that little bit of creativity!




Thank you! I love hearing that I landed the mark! You guys (and gals!) give me the details - and I use that to step inside the character's life and see what I uncover.
As for posting more character concepts - honestly, I wholeheartedly welcome it.
I've said it before, but I enjoy delving into everyone's characters and ideally providing someone with something they can use!
But at the same time, I limit myself to an hour to write these (so I don't end up writing a 19 page background for someone!) - so these are wonderful creative exercises! So while I am helping those who submit characters, I am also helping myself. Being creative allows my brain to calm down at night and allow me to perhaps get a normal 8 hours of sleep. (Or at least 4 hours, just 4 hours is fine too, Mr. Brain...)

So, I have no issues with a 19 page piece of your writing, and I think most people here feel that way. Feel free to write as much as you want or feel comfortable with for me.

Also, another idea.
A dwarf necromamcer wizard, except he's a paleontologist. He specialises in finding fossils, and then bringing the ancient, extinct species back to life after he uses his dwarven mining knowledge to chip them from the stone. He also helps bring non fossilized extinct species back.
His name is Bart stonechipper.
If it's not to much to ask, I'd like to see it done in a style similare to the vigilante paladin. But if you have a different idea, go for it, I completely trust your judgement.

[moonfly7]

Hooray! This makes me happy 😊

Also I am enjoying watching the Tawmis-verse come together. It would be very interesting if Sureena and Corin came face to face one day, fighting side by side before eventually working out their shared history.

With varise's permission, I really wanna see you right this.

[Tawmis]

So, I have no issues with a 19 page piece of your writing, and I think most people here feel that way. Feel free to write as much as you want or feel comfortable with for me.
Also, another idea.
A dwarf necromamcer wizard, except he's a paleontologist. He specialises in finding fossils, and then bringing the ancient, extinct species back to life after he uses his dwarven mining knowledge to chip them from the stone. He also helps bring non fossilized extinct species back.
His name is Bart stonechipper.
If it's not to much to ask, I'd like to see it done in a style similare to the vigilante paladin. But if you have a different idea, go for it, I completely trust your judgement.

Sure! Only question - is the Vigilante Paladin an official thing or homebrew? I honestly can't recall (and I am at work so I don't have the books in front of me), anything about the Vigilante Paladin? And online searches are kind of pointing to fighters and homebrew stuff. Just want clarification so I can get close. :)