D&D Character Background Challenge (It's Own Thread Now)

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D&D Character Background Challenge (It's Own Thread Now)

Post by Tawmis » Tue Jul 02, 2019 1:12 pm

So over on Order of the Stick - this guy posted this:
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthre ... ecromancer
OOTS_Allistar wrote: So, out DM wanted to try something different during character creation. We were asked to make a character given 6 levels in a class and a race. I was a bit skeptical, but sure why not. I was given a tiefling necromancer wizard. I look over to him and ask what kind of campaign this is going to be, "oh it's a planar game, but I plan on making a mix of good and evil characters".... HMMMMMMMM....... Ok, sure I guess. Because I think it would be cool I go ahead and give him the noble background. A few days later I start thinking about what this guy's story could be, and more about what his family's story could be since infernal blood doesn't just happen. I have some very badly written bullet point stuff based on what the DM and I thought up. Sorry in advance for the cringe (only half of it was intentional, the other half was the DM).

Long ago, my parents sign a contract with a devil (We didn't really roll, but I think it would be power and wealth)
We get known as the "house of flame" and the "fiend blooded"
Later on they have 3 children, all of which are boys (and I'm the youngest son)
After some time I begin to study magic with my family's court wizard
Many years later the devil comes back demanding payment, but we have no idea what he means
Decides to play a cruel game with me.
He shatters the glass mural of our family, and hands me a shard and gives me an ultimatum
Either I kill my family, or he would kill everyone I had ever known.
I cave, but I know what I have to do.
I am forced to cut them down one by one.
My mother's dying gasps "I'm so sorry"
The devil laughs, takes the shard from me and looks me in the eyes
He plunges the shard into my heart
I don't die, but I'm now cursed with the dying screams of my family
He vows to bring them back and absolve himself
Through he knows of necromancy, but he knows it can't bring them back (at least in the way he wants)
The only thing left he has to follow is the well of souls, the lord of bones, and the path of lichdom.

I'm not too proud of this one, and I'm definitely open to strait up scraping the whole thing. I dunno, I'm a bit out of it right now, what do you think, and how would you go about writing something like this?
Everyone in the thread seemed very against it - saying Devils make their deals known up front.
The fact that everyone seemed to be shooting this down.... made me want to challenge them
And so using all of the things the original posted noted - I wrote them a background...
Tawmis wrote: I don’t blame them.

Really, I don’t.

We all do things in our youth that are foolish. Especially when the potential consequences seem so far away from the present.

My mother and father – bless their hearts – fell in love at a very young age. My mother, she came from royalty. My father? He was a street urchin who finally managed to steal something worth a damn – and that, was my mother’s heart. My mother’s father – my grandfather – him, I never cared for. All he cared about was wealth and power. Would not allow my mother to see my father, because my father – in his eyes, was worthless.

So my mother used to sneak out, with the help of her hand maids. And one night, when she snuck out, my father proposed to her. She accepted – but my father knew, her father would never accept him. So my mother and father did what any, desperate, young soul would do.

They made a deal with a Devil. Enter Bar’garius – the Horned Devil.

My father pleaded with Bar’garius to grant him money, so that he could marry my mother. The Horned Devil agreed – but had one small hook to the deal. That one of their children (he promised they would have more than one, he’d foreseen it – if they agreed to the deal) – would become his servant to do his deeds.

Love, it’s amazing and beautiful.

But also makes good natured people, who are desperate, do things without considering the consequences. Love, as they say, is blind.

My parents agreed – and Bar’garius created a crest for my family – two horns (his own) with flames on top. Vanity… it seems even devils suffer from it. Because this had become the family crest – my father’s “family” became known as “The House of Flame.” To “populate” my father’s family, Bar’garius actually populated it with lemures, shape shifted to appear human.

My father came up with the story that he had been rich all along, but had not gotten along with his family, so he gave up the gold and riches to try and make it on his own. But now, the person who had made his life hell had perished, he accepted his status once again. This – whether it was that my father was willing to give up his life of riches to live on his own – or the fact that he actually now had money – appealed to my grandfather. Somehow, I think it’s the latter.

As Bar’garius had predicted, after the wedding – as the years went on, my mother and father were blissfully happy, and had three children, with me being the youngest of them. Because of their love and blissful life, the fact that they had made a pact with Bar’garius easily slipped their mind.

By the time I was sixteen, I found I was able to manipulate magic very easily, unlike my other two, older brothers.

I began taking lessons from the family wizard – who, I did not know – until just a moment ago, was actually Bar’garius in disguise.

On my eighteenth birthday – Bar’garius revealed himself to me, dropping the illusion of being “Tarok, the family wizard.” He also dropped the illusion that the family on my father’s side were not even human – they were fleshly lemures!

He then shattered a glass mural that hung on the wall, of our family and handed me a shard of the glass. He gazed into my eyes, and explained I was bound to him – and that my magic is because of him. He told me that my parents made a deal and that I would serve him.

He shoved the shard through my heart - my soul - and unleashed my potential - revealing me to be a Tiefling - not even human!

I tried to fight it – but I wasn’t in control of myself… but I could see what I was doing.

One by one, I killed my father, my two elder brothers, and finally my mother, who with her dying words, clutched at my sleeves as she slid away, her blood all over my hands, choked, “I’m sorry.”

Bar’garius laughed at me and explained I would be called upon to do his bidding. And as I did so, the souls of my family that he had forced me to kill – would be restored to life, with no memory of me or what I had done.

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Thu Jul 04, 2019 4:13 pm

D&D Related... So a person on the Order of the Stick forum needed a background for a Fighter able to cast Magic Missile... So I accepted the challenge:
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... ww_NSJhnpQ

I had a knack for getting into trouble in my youth. I couldn’t turn down a good – or bad – fight whenever the opportunity presented itself.

But that’s when I was young. I’ve grown up since then. Physically anyway, some might argue that mentally, I’ve still got plenty of room to grow. One of the turning points in my youth was when a few local ruffians were harassing a young boy named Tarnaris. Tarnaris was thin, frail, timid, and jumped at everything. He didn’t have an ounce of desire to fight anything, and turned the cheek at every opportunity – the exact opposite of me.

And perhaps, that whole thing about opposites attract has some validation. I ended up stepping in between Tarnaris and these local ruffians. One of them taunted me then had the nerve to strike me. That was the first and only time he got to do so. One punch to his throat brought him to his knees, and my own knee met with his nose. The others jumped in on the action to try and take me down – but like your standard bully – they were cowards – hyenas, who only benefit in a pact – take down the leader and they’re not sure what to do – making the rest of them easily to beat down.

Tarnaris thanked me – as did his family, who comes from a wealthy background. They told me that my “skills” would be better suited as a part of the City Watch. Me? Working for the law - Despite my rebellious youth?

Well, Tarnaris’ family must have had some true weight in the community. Three days after they had thanked me at their home with an incredible dinner – Captain Cota was knocking on my door, asking if I was interested in being a part of the City Watch. They even sold it to me, that because of my rebellious youth, I knew some of the shadier people, and could help the City Watch crack down on them. When I didn’t seem too interested, he assured me that there would be plenty of fighting. So I agreed.

I was in the City Watch for quite a few years. Some days, Tarnaris would come and hang out with me on the slower days. Tarnaris was studying to become a wizard; it’s what his family pushed him to become because he was smart, had a great memory, and seemed to be a natural and summoning, wielding, and shaping magic. I was, admittedly, amazed at some of the things he was able to do – just by whispering some spidery sounding words, wiggling his fingers, and then – there it was. Three spheres of light just floating around his hand that he could literally control and move.

He tried to convince me that anyone – with enough time and study – could become a wizard. I was not one of those people, I promised him. During one of the archery practices, Tarnaris showed up – he was beaming that day. A wide smile. I had asked what he was so smug about – and then he launched a volley of what I would call “light arrows” at the target. All of them struck the center. I was suitably impressed now. This wasn’t just dancing lights. But a form of an attack spell.

I asked him, did he still believe anyone could be a wizard. He said he thought so. I explained I wanted to learn this new “light arrow” spell – he corrected me, and explained, the correct name is “Magic Missile.” I nodded and said, “Sure. Can you teach me the light arrow spell?”

We laughed, and for weeks – he and I would practice this spell. There were days, where I grew frustrated when it didn’t work when I tried it – but Tarnaris always told me to sooth my mind, and let the magic swim around me – and then to breathe in – and take that magic into my body – and channel it through my fingers.

It took awhile. And may the gods bless Tarnaris for his patience, but it finally happened.

I practiced all the time, after that night – to ensure I could weave and master this spell.

When I showed the others on the City Watch what I had learned, none of them were interested. I could have shown them a mighty dragon, and I don’t think any of them would have flinched. They were a bunch of lazy bums, trying to stay out of the way of the criminal element infecting the city. And Captain Cota was perhaps the worse of them – always turning a blind eye to the situation on the streets. I started to believe that perhaps he was getting paid to look away.

One day, he got a tip – I didn’t learn this, because I wasn’t on shift yet – but he had turned a blind eye and dismissed it as “hear-say.”

Two people died.

One of them was Tarnaris, the other, his mother. Apparently there had been a burglary attempt at their home, and Tarnaris’ father managed to fend them off – but it had already been too late. When I heard the news, I rushed to their house – Tarnaris’ father was beyond devastated. His eyes were vacant as if his soul had departed his body.

I promised him I would find out who did it. I promised him I would get revenge for him.

But this didn’t change how he looked. He knew nothing I could do would bring back his wife and son.

I quit the City Watch that day and never looked back. I decided to open my own force – a group that actually listened to the people and wasn’t afraid of getting their knuckles bruised. I spent most of my savings getting the company started. A warforged for backup and a big sign on the front of the house – if we could save just one person, it would all be worth it. Thankfully my time as a rebellious youth, followed by being the only one on the City Watch who seemed to give a damn back then, gave me a reputation.

First, I will find out who killed Tarnaris and his mother – and I will show no mercy – I will kill them with the very magic Tarnaris had taught me - then I am going to clean up the rest of this city.

Tarnaris, my one and only true friend, may be gone… but his magic is alive in me.

Their reaction via PM to me - priceless:
"Bless your heart, and damn your soul. You made me cry.
My stomach took a fast 360 when I read "His eyes were vacant as if his soul had departed his body."
and I completely lost it at "his magic is alive in me."
Goddamn you. Ugh. feelings. and stuff "

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Thu Jul 04, 2019 5:45 pm

I wrote an unsolicited background because I was bored. :D
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... ostcount=2
Original Poster Wrote wrote: This is a series of threads I will be doing for characters I have, but haven't gotten to play. Feel free to share your own characters here, too!

Name: Luna Miranti
Race: Teifling (Levistus Variant)
Class(es): Warlock (Hexblade)
Background: Urchin
Appearance: Navy blue skin, with deep lavender eyes, and horns like a ram.

As a young girl, Luna was shunned in her village, as the people there believed she was a curse set upon them. One night, a group of guards were chasing her down. Backed into a corner, she grabs a nearby dagger, then... time suddenly stops. She hears a female voice. "Show them what they fear." Luna responds, "Who are you?" "Trina, the Dagger of Shade. I am a weak weapon, but I give you the power to break their wills." Luna, while time had stopped, hesitates. She didn't want to hurt anyone... but if she didn't fight back, she would die. "Okay... I'll do it." Trina uses her shadow essence to simulate a nod. "With me by your side, I shall protect you." Luna feels time continue, as she inflicts a Bane on her foes, and runs away.

Trina is, in terms of stats, a sentient magical dagger. She has Darkvision to 60ft, and telepathy she uses to speak, but she also can speak in common if needed. She has an average Intelligence, high Wisdon, and decent Charisma. She vows to protect Luna, and any allies she gains.
So I replied with...

Thought I'd have some fun with your character background. By no means need to use this... but I had fun writing it just to write it.
As a fun note - the demon (Horned Devil) name is the same I used for another person's background... how fun of an idea is this demon traveling the multiverse granting these prayers at a cost... and typically the cost of a child's soul!

The Village of Silverlake was a small community of farmers; tucked away from the rest of the world, they lived in a community that saw very little that stood out or was unusual. Tucked away between several mountain, the Village of Silverlake was not easily accessible. The snowcapped mountains kept fresh water running down the mountains sides that poured into the lake in the center of the village. Flecks of silver ran down the mountain and glistened in the lake, for which the lake was named after.

The silver was neither valuable as metal or dangerous to consume. If anything, it seemed to help the crops in the village bloom beautifully.

But one day – came the Summer of Suffering, which it was called – where neither rain nor snow touched the mountain tops, and Silverlake began to shrivel – as did the crops. The farmers of Silverlake grew desperate; farmers were caught stealing from one another, and committing crimes that had never been seen in this small, secluded village.

Soleil Miranti was a little more desperate than the rest. His wife, Mond, had been several months pregnant – the first time being this far along, after several previous failed attempts. Desperate, he told his wife he would return – that he was going to climb beyond the mountains and seek help. Soleil tried desperately, but he was not as young as he used to be – the mountains proved to be too dangerous. As he lay there, lost in the mountains, desperate and certain that his wife and child would not survive without him, he did the unthinkable. After calls to the gods had failed him, giving only silence in return, he called out to the darkness to answer his prayers. His prayers were finally heard by a Horned Demon named Bar’garius who presented himself before Soleil.

“What would you ask of me, mortal?” Bar’garius asked.

“To ensure that my wife and child are safe,” Soleil pled. “You can take my life… my soul… as payment.”

“Yours?” Bar’garius laughed. “Yours is old. Worn. What I crave is a youthful soul.”

“What are you asking of me?” Soleil cried.

“The soul of your daughter,” Bar’garius replied, a wide smile across his devilish appearance.

“My… daughter?” Soleil asked. “You know it will be a girl?”

“Indeed I do,” Bar’garius replied. “I checked on them when I heard your plea. I could sense it in Mond’s belly… a young girl was growing…”

“I can not!” Soleil shouted at the Horned Devil. “I will never agree to such terms!”

“Then let me show you what happens…” Bar’garius laughed. He waved his hand in a circular motion, and pink energy appeared which slowly began to display images within. There, Soleil could see his home at Silverlake.

He could see Mond struggling to take care of the farm, and take care of the infant daughter. He could see her struggling, trying the best she could – but she wept every night. Not only because she missed her husband who had gone missing, but because her will and spirit were broken. Her broken heart – though joyful to have a daughter at long last – could not keep up with trying to take care of a dying farm and a living infant.

Then Soleil saw another man – Finster Blackmoore approach Mond. He could hear Finster offered to buy the farm from Mond so that she could either move or live on the farm, with her daughter, as one of his servants. Mond declined the offer for several weeks – but soon, between the dying farm, and the burden of the infant, and her heart further broken by her husband’s disappearance – Mond agreed to sell the farm and become a servant to Finster. He treated her well at first – but soon, the abuse began. First it was all verbal – but then came the physical hits. Then he saw a vision where Finster had cornered his daughter, who Mond had named Luna in the barn when she was only sixteen…

And that’s where Bar’garius stopped the vision.

“You can choose to decline, and you can see what happens… Accept it. I will bless your farm and give it fruits for generations to come,” Bar’garius leaned forward. “Or, Mond and your precious unborn daughter will live with Finster, for the time they’ve got on this world.”

“What will you do to my daughter’s soul? Take it to Hades?” Soleil cried out at the Horned Devil. “How could that possibly be better than the Hell they will endure with Finster? I have no good choice here.”

“Sometimes,” Bar’garius smiled, “Life is not fair, and we must choose between the lesser of two evils. If it makes you feel better – I would not take your daughter’s soul. I would only… need her to serve me… and be bound to me. To harm her would be to harm me.” Bar’garius shrugged, “Opposed to her baring a child at the age of sixteen, fathered by Finster… one of many she would endure…”

“You bastard!” Soleil cried out.

“I suppose you’re right,” Bar’garius shrugged. “I never did know my own father. But that doesn’t seem important. I am offering this one last time before I depart. I bare many fruit on your farm, or Flinster bares many child in yours eventually.”

Soleil kneeled down and cried. “Mond, please forgive me…” Soleil looked up at Bar’garius. “I accept your offer, demon.”

“Good,” Bar’garius smiled, and vanished, leaving Soleil there to die alone, pondering if he had done the right thing…

Back at Silverlake, Mond awoke the next morning – surprised to see that the apple trees were rich with succulent apples, the corn seemed to be the color of the sun, the horses seemed as though they were ready to run a race. She was in shock – but immediately knew – her husband had somehow found help, but at a price.

She kneeled and prayed that the gods, whom she believed he had called upon, bless his soul.

She wondered, why after her prayer, she did not feel a sense of peace. She did feel something – a terribly warm hand touch her stomach – and as her eyes opened from prayer, she saw nothing – but a beaming light coming from the window, resting on her belly. It was the warmth of the sun, she concluded.

Three months later, when the young child was born and named Luna – she looked like any other child. However, when she reached the age of sixteen, she began reporting to her mother of crippling headaches. Her skin began to turn blue, and her mother thought a sickness had befallen her precious daughter. But nothing the local nurse could determine what might be happening. Over the days, the skin turned a deeper, navy blue, her eyes turned to lavender, and horns – like a ram – grew from the sides of her head.

The people of the village shunned Luna, and her mother, believing that they were the reason for the cursed Summer of Suffering – and that they must have made a pact with a demon or devil so that their farm – and only their farm – bloomed during the Summer of Suffering.

One night, a group of guards were chasing her down – believing if they killed her, they would end the Summer of Suffering, and the prosperous rain and snow would return and the lake would be full again, so that they could all live peacefully.

Backed into a corner, Luna feared that this was the end of her life. She tried to show no fear, but her heart was pounding. The very shadows she had been backed into seemed to speak to her. “To harm you, is to harm me. Take my hand,” a deep voice whispered. She reached back into the shadow and felt a cool blade in her hand. And what she did not see is that Bar’garius handed her a weapon that had been specially crafted for her.

Now the voice changed to a woman’s, “Show them what they fear.”

Time seemed to stop as the female’s voice spoke.

“What’s happening? Who are you?” Luna asked, staring at the figures before her that seemed frozen in place; their hatred and contempt clearly painted on their faces, with maliciousness burning in their eyes.
“I am Trina, the Dagger of Shade, forged for you and you alone. I am weak, but I will grow with you – and give you the power to break their wills.”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” Luna spoke to the voice in her head, certain she was going mad.

“They killed your mother before coming to kill you,” the dagger whispered. In her mind, Luna suddenly saw her own mother, staked to one of the trees in the farm – her throat slit.

She looked at the man, frozen in time, the one that was leading this mob of hatred. It was Finster Blackmoore – a neighbor who had sought to repeatedly try and purchase the land from her mother. In her mind, she saw him – he was the one leading the others in the murder against his mother. They had hatched a plan to say it was cultists who had come to collect their due.

Luna’s lip curled and a snarl slipped from her lips.

“With me at your side, I shall protect you.”

Luna closed her eyes and let her soul become one with the dagger.

When she next opened her eyes, all three men who had been chasing her were dead at her feet.

“Run Luna,” came the male’s booming voice she had first heard in the shadow. “Take my gift – it will protect you. I will call on you in the future.”

Having worked the farms to help her again mother, Luna was fit and capable. She climbed the mountains and escaped, eventually moving from town to town, living as an urchin, using what little magic she had somehow knew, to gain coin here and there to pay for food, and when lucky, a place to stay for the night…

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Rath Darkblade » Fri Jul 05, 2019 5:19 am

Uhm, what happened? :( I wrote some bits for the background of the tiefling necromancer, and now it seems to have gone... :shock: :(

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Fri Jul 05, 2019 4:59 pm

Rath Darkblade wrote:
Fri Jul 05, 2019 5:19 am
Uhm, what happened? :( I wrote some bits for the background of the tiefling necromancer, and now it seems to have gone... :shock: :(
Did you get an error or anything? Or did you have it in another tab and accidentally closed the wrong tab? (I've done that too many times here when I try to multi-quote more than one person in a thread)

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Fri Jul 05, 2019 10:21 pm

I decided to make a thread where I offered to write character backgrounds for people, if they wanted...
Even if they don't use it, I enjoy the challenge.
This time I was asked: Moon Druid Human. Chef's choice on name and traits. However, he does not choose to be a Druid. He does not necessarily believe in Druidic philosophies, and he isn't a "reskin" of Druidic/Wildshape mechanics (so he's actually using Druidic magic to transform, and casts powers that come from nature, he just either doesn't want them or believe in them).

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... ostcount=8

I went with Forgotten Realms area and goddess. These can naturally be changed.

================================================== ===========
“You don’t understand, boy.”

“No, father – it’s you who does not understand. I don’t want to be bound to the land, like you are.”

My name is Barius Toweroak, and I come from a family that has dedicated their lives to protecting the wild and maintaining the balance of Nature. My father, who is furiously scowling at me, is Den Toweroak, an Arch Druid and next in line to be the Great Druid. He wants – no, expects – the same thing out of me.

I hear my father whisper, “Eldath, forgive him…” As I stormed out.

The High Forest is massive; and there are bands of Druids of the Moon Circle scattered throughout. There are days – sometimes weeks or months – before we see others. This life of isolation isn’t for me. It’s not what I want for me. Honestly, I don’t know what I want – but I know it’s not this.

One night, while I was patrolling the woods – furious that I had not yet made a change in my life – I heard a woman’s screams. I quickly moved through the woods and found two brigands chasing a woman. I moved behind one of the brigands and trailed them, ambushing them as soon as I was able to get him alone. I then moved to the other – who had paused – wondering where his companion had gone – allowing me the chance to easily overtake him. I caught up to the woman and assured her that the problem had been resolved.

She thanked me, and that night – I did not return home. Instead, I escorted her safely through the woods, for a week. Was she the key to me finding out what I would do with my life? I admit that sense of adventure – the thrill of the hunt against those brigands had … excited me.

One night, while she and I sat at a campfire, she asked me if I belonged to some Druidic or Ranger order, because of how efficient I was in the woods. I assured her, I was neither. I, like her, was someone lost in the woods, trying to find themselves. She had commented how I moved like a cat, when I was going after the brigands – and that I moved very quietly in the woods. She clearly did not believe me when I told her that I was neither Druid nor Ranger.

On the third night, she seemed unusually stiff as she sat at the campfire – not the least bit relaxed like she had been the other two nights. She looked at me, with seriousness in her eyes, and asked, “Do you know what Lycanthropy is?”

“It’s a disease,” I replied, with a shrug of my shoulder. “Turns a person into a wolf… rat… tiger… whatever the infection stemmed from. Typically bound by the moon’s cycle.”

“This is similar, is it not, the Circle of the Moon,” the woman poked at the fire, as if afraid to make eye contact with me. I was, admittedly, taken aback.

“It is similar, yes,” I had replied. “But the Circle of the Moon Druids are not bound to the moon’s cycle, to change into their forms.”

“You seem to know a lot about the Druid Organization that you claim not to be a part of,” the woman smiled, still not making eye contact.

“Yes, well, I’ve heard things, living in these woods,” I lied, deciding not to reveal that my entire family has a bloodline that has been dedicated to the Order of the Moon since as far as we can all remember.

“I feel like,” she finally looked up as embers from the campfire floated up, “that you may be tied to that order. The way you moved like a cat – unusual – especially for a human. If you were an elf, I might have not thought anything about it. But a human being that graceful – in these tangled woods?”

On the fifth night, around the campfire, she looked at me, and asked, “May I see your hand?”

I extended my hand to her, palm up, over the campfire. She traces the line in my hands, and looks at me. “There is magic in your line,” she said, tracing the line by my thumb. “It runs deep and long. And here, I see deep love, but the line that crosses it here, shows conflict.” She looked at me, “Did you and your mother of father, or someone near to you – disagree on something – and you were at a crossroads?”

I looked at her, feeling oddly compelled to tell the truth. “My father and I recently had a disagreement about the direction of my life.”

“You do not wish to follow his path?” she asked, looking back at my palm.

“Correct. He is one of those Druids of the Circle of the Moon,” I found myself saying.

She pulled out a dagger, and ran it along the life line of my palm, and barely cut – but enough to draw blood. She turned my palm upside down so that the blood dripped into the fire and hissed as small puffs of smoke rose up, and each of them, a distorted shape of an animal. “It is in your blood,” she whispered.

I awoke to the echo of those words – “It is in your blood.” Then came the excruciating headache that had me vomiting, as if severely hung over. I could barely control the vomit bursting from my stomach and burning my lungs.

I stared down at my hands, as I was on all fours vomiting and watched as my hands changed into claws. My arms turned muscular and I felt my body change. And then, and only then, did my headache subside.

“Damn you, Eldath,” I growled in my black panther form. “You have taken my choice away! I will find a cure to this…. And I will be free of you.”

================================================== ===========

So essentially, the vanity of the goddess forced her powers upon the character. Now the character gets headaches, unless he changes into a form, that makes the headaches subside. The character is now angry - at his father, and the goddess - and has a little bit of anger towards druids and rangers in general, who insist on defending the woods. He'd never go as far as destroying the woods, but wouldn't be so inclined to lay his life down to defend it. He tries to keep it straight that the animals in the woods and such are not what did this to him... but sometimes the lines blur.

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Fri Jul 05, 2019 10:24 pm

Another one in the thread where I offered to write backstories...
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... ostcount=3

This time I was asked: I would love some backstory help. Here is what I have to far. I am up for anything to be changed. Figured it needs went he is adventuring, why he left home, etc.
Leoendithas Lingenhall (need 3rd name)
Rock gnome Artificer
When Leoendithas was young a diseased rat bit his left foot. His parents did not believe in using magic to heal it. The infection spread and Leoendithas got so sick he lost his leg. Bedridden for quite some time, Leoendithas starting tinkering with things and discovered he had an innate ability at magic. To hid this from his parents, he used his tinker tools to channel his magic. Leoendithas developed a clockwork leg to replace his lost leg. Being bedridden for so long, caused Leoendithas to not have very good social skills. He does not speak a lot, but when he does it is awkward.
Losing his leg also caused him to become obsessed with spiders. He has built a small mechanical spider named Gimble that he keeps with him at all times.
He is super socially awkward.
Decide – Should the leg leave him with a permanent limp or if he can tinker with it for 1 hour, he can walk fine for 4 hours.
I eventually plan on doing battle Smith and making a giant spider he rides.
As I said, I am up for any changes you can think of but definitely feels it needs more. I do want him to lose his leg somehow. If you can think of a better way by all means. Thanks so much.

Came up with...

The Farwin family had a wonderful reputation; known throughout the Stoneheim community as proficient in their tinkered objects – most noticeably the Farwin music box. One thing that made them stick out among other gnomes is that the Farwin family did not believe in using magic to amplify their tinkered objects. (Some in Stoneheim claimed that there was Dwarven blood somewhere in the Farwin bloodline, which would explain their avoidance of magic).

Corfanpopip Uriben Farwin, proud father of three sons, trained each of them how to craft tinkered items – specifically the family secret to the Music Box they were so well known for.

Leoendithas Lingenhall Farwin, the youngest of the three, frequently found his mind wandering as his father described the intricacy of ever gear, spring, and coil that goes into making the fabled music boxes. One night, before dinner, Leoendithas had convinced his two elder brothers (with some heavy handed scolding by their mother to play with their youngest sibling) to a game of hide and seek.

Leoendithas had hidden in the barn, and while his eldest brothers agreed to play (fearful that their mother might restrict them from further tinkering for several cycles of the time piece) – they hardly made the effort to seek out their sibling (finding that while he was hiding, the brothers were able to enjoy some peace and quiet).

During one such game, Leoendithas had taken to hiding in the shed where they father had kept the gears. Normally a spotless area, the shed had fallen into some dust, as the eldest brothers did not take their cleaning chores seriously. As such, a small rat had found sanctuary in the shed. While Leoendithas sat there waiting to be found, the rat had stumbled across the young gnome hiding, and took to defending its young, and sank its teeth deep into Leoendithas big toe. Not having seen the rat, and thinking a nail or something had fallen onto his foot, he cried out in pain. His hand instinctively grabbed a piece of nearby metal to pull himself up, but another piece of metal had fallen on a lizard’s tail (what the rat had originally been hunting), and severed the lizard’s tail.

Leoendithas felt bad, but knew the lizard would survive. His mother and two eldest brothers came out to see why Leoendithas had cried out. He showed them his toe and explained that he thought a nail had punctured it. The days went by and his big toe seemed to get worse. Both of his older brothers, perhaps feeling guilty, wondered if they should call upon the priests.

Their father disagreed. Had it just been a nail as Leoendithas thought, it was probably just a small infection (though the state of the gears and equipment being dusty in the shed had also managed to get his two older brothers in trouble, since it was clear they were not doing their cleaning chores that their father had assigned them). The infection spread up his leg, and still his father declined to call upon the priests, believing natural herbs and medicine would take care of this “rusty nail infection.”

When it had gotten so bad, that his father agreed to call upon the priests, they arrived to explain it was too late. Leoendithas would need to have his leg amputated, or the infection would spread into his body, and reach his heart and kill him – slowly and painfully.

His father was ashamed that he had let it go so far, but his family – and Leoendithas – all agreed, that amputating the leg was the best course of action.

Leoendithas was depressed for many weeks, lying in bed, not even wanting to go out – barely even eating. On one of those nights – he saw the lizard from the shed. Part of its tail had grown back through regeneration. Leoendithas looked down at his missing leg, and noticed a spider crawling across the foot of the bed. For a moment he considered smashing it, but as he struggled to pull himself up – he watched the spider – eight legs moving fluidly across the bed. Leoendithas looked back at the lizard, then back at the spider.

That was it! He would forge a new leg!

Leoendithas began tinkering with the plans of a new leg – he thought about the various animals he encountered, and the best way to plan to make this. He had gone through several blueprints, which he kept from his family. One day, after settling on a design, as he screwed in one piece, and put in the gear, he noticed sparks between his fingers and the metal. Things began to flow through his mind, how to improve on an already incredible design – and soon, he saw the leg he had created was not heavy or cumbersome, but light and efficient – almost… magical.

As he put the artificial leg over the fleshly stump of his severed leg, he could feel the magic coursing through his body. Though his father had hated it, Leoendithas had somehow channeled the ability to unlock magic in everyday objects. As if waiting, he took notice that the spider and the lizard were both in his room again as the artificial leg was strapped on.

With his leg forged, he went into the living room – his entire family was not only shocked to see him come out of the room – but shocked to see him walking.

His father took him out to celebrate him in Stoneheim – claiming his son had forged a leg, through sheer skill alone – no magic involved. Leoendithas did not correct his father, but rather than feeling proud, he felt ashamed now. As others in Stoneheim greeted him and explained they were happy to see him, Leoendithas discovered he was more and more uncomfortable. He barely had a relationship with his older brothers, and now all of these people, congratulating him; the years he had spent with only his brothers, his time confined in his room, declining visits from friends had made him socially timid and awkward.

He ran off to hide in his room, and his mother – the only one he truly spoke with – came in to see if he was alright. He told her to leave; but as she did – she spotted the spider and killed it. Leoendithas was further devastated – though he had never spoken with the spider or anything – he felt as if it had helped him develop the idea to create a leg. He took up the hammer and anvil and began to tinker a mechanical spider he named Gimble that he keeps with him at all times.

When the requestor asked me for a reason this character would go on an adventure, I answered:
The reason for adventuring would be an easy one to explain - because he's socially awkward, and his family is so famous - and people feel bad about his leg - he was CONSTANTLY getting (in his eyes) unwanted attention.
So he decided to pack up and leave - to find some peace. And he's finding, despite being socially awkward - that it is easier to talk to people who have no expectations of him (due to his family's popularity).

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Rath Darkblade » Sat Jul 06, 2019 2:48 am

Tawmis wrote:
Fri Jul 05, 2019 4:59 pm
Rath Darkblade wrote:
Fri Jul 05, 2019 5:19 am
Uhm, what happened? :( I wrote some bits for the background of the tiefling necromancer, and now it seems to have gone... :shock: :(
Did you get an error or anything? Or did you have it in another tab and accidentally closed the wrong tab? (I've done that too many times here when I try to multi-quote more than one person in a thread)
No, everything showed up just fine. I posted it, logged off, and went to bed. Then ... it disappeared. :(

Did it get deleted for some reason? :(

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sat Jul 06, 2019 2:52 am

Rath Darkblade wrote:
Sat Jul 06, 2019 2:48 am
Tawmis wrote:
Fri Jul 05, 2019 4:59 pm
Rath Darkblade wrote:
Fri Jul 05, 2019 5:19 am
Uhm, what happened? :( I wrote some bits for the background of the tiefling necromancer, and now it seems to have gone... :shock: :(
Did you get an error or anything? Or did you have it in another tab and accidentally closed the wrong tab? (I've done that too many times here when I try to multi-quote more than one person in a thread)
No, everything showed up just fine. I posted it, logged off, and went to bed. Then ... it disappeared. :(
Did it get deleted for some reason? :(
Definitely not. I don't think Collector pokes his head in this thread. And he and I are the only admins. Moderators we have, have not logged in for a long time.

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The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 5:57 am

So I have had a few takers on my "Do you need your character background written up?" thread. :)
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthre ... written-up

This person asked:
Here's one I have been trying to make interesting
Robert Pattan
Aasimar divine soul sorcerer. Fights almost exclusively with short range magic. Typically pretty lazy and doesn't like to get involved but can lay down the hurt when he really needs to.

I stuck with Forgotten Realms for the deity and the landmarks...
================================================== ===========

The people had watched the skies in fear.

The Moon had come to pass before the sun and bring darkness upon the world. In the distance, thunder rolled across the heavens, like the sound of a thousand men marching to war. Lightning split the skies with bright – but all too brief – bursts of light. The fury of the wind prevented torches from remaining lit. The world was bathed in pitch darkness.

Alissa Pattan, a human female, ran out of her home and collapsed in the center of town. Alissa was pregnant and due at any moment. She claimed she had never lain with a man, so she was not aware of how she had become pregnant. No one believed her; the small town of Nightstone believed that she had gotten drunk one night and laid with someone. Now she was in the center of the town, gripping her stomach and screaming. The townspeople stared – unsure what to do.

Just as Jerick, one of the tavern owners began to move forward – a blinding flash three lightning bolts from the heavens striking Alissa light up the sky with such intensity, that everyone was forced to look away – and even then, their vision did not properly return to them for over ten minutes. But after the flash, they had all heard the same thing – the sound of an infant crying.

When Jerick could see again, he could see Alissa, still lying in the center of town, but in her arms was an infant, who seemed to have an unusual glow about him. Jerick slowly moved towards Alissa, and she looked up at Jerick and smiled proudly, “Isn’t he just beautiful?”

Jerick looked down at the boy, who in turn, grabbed Jerick’s finger and gave it a tight squeeze and a smile. “Why yes,” the old tavern keeper assured her, “yes, yes he is. What’s his name?”

She looked into her infant’s eyes, “Robert,” she said. “Robert Pattan.”

“That’s a wonderful name,” Jerick assured her, all the while looking her over, to see if she had been burned by the lightning strike. But there was not a single wound upon her. Oddly enough, even the signs of her pregnancy had completely vanished. She was as fit and beautiful as she was before she ever got pregnant. There were no signs of the typical fluids found during childbirth on the ground. “Let’s have you, and the boy looked at.”

The Priests had spent nights going over what they found when examining both Alissa, who by all signs was still human – but the unusual pregnancy was anything but human. And her child – Robert Pattan – he seemed to be anything but human. His eyes showed signs of great intelligence – even as an infant. And from time to time, the irises in his eyes seemed to reflect the heavens, even when the child was inside – it was like gazing into the night skies.

The omen of the eclipse, and the unusual lightning strike, had one priest – a human by the name of Ellis Farsong – believe that perhaps Alissa was telling the truth in regards to her pregnancy and not knowing the father – and that perhaps, the father of the child was a heavenly being. By the three pronged lightning strike, Ellis would have believed it to be none other than Talos, the God of Storms, whose very symbol was a three pronged lightning bolt.

By the age of five, Robert was clearly displaying that he was – indeed – more than just human. His intelligence and wisdom continued to grow, as did his strength. He also quickly found that people would treat him differently. Some seemed to shy away from him, showing signs of fear, while others seemed to do whatever he asked of them, and held him in high regard.

It was difficult understanding why people acted so differently around him, at such a young age. By the age of sixteen, the priests had built a shrine in Robert’s name and showered him (and his mother) with endless amounts of gifts and blessings, hoping to gain favor with whom they assumed to be Robert’s father – the god, Talos.

This treatment made Robert very lax. There was never a need any more to go out and do something; he could snap his fingers and one of the priests of Nightstone would come running, and ask what he had wanted.

When a band of goblins from the Ardeep Forest came to Nightstone, seeking to attack it one day – Robert watched as the City Guard tried to defend itself from the attackers. He watched from the tower that had been built in his name, and saw people who feared him – and others who adored him – fall before the goblins.

He heaved a deep sigh and stepped out and engaged in battle with the goblins. His bloodline to his father truly began to show that night, as he made all the attacks close and personal – as if the show his enemies how bothered he was that he had to be involved. When the goblins were driven back, he walked around, briskly touching and healing those, that were only along the way back to his tower.

One night, he got a visit from a sailor, who had said to have traveled to Nightstone from Waterdeep after hearing about this “blessed being.” The sailor introduced himself as “Talon Stormbringer.” Talon asked the boy, if he was truly “a blessed being” why did he not travel the world, and use his powers to make the world a better place.

Robert explained that as far as he was concerned – the world was already a wonderful place. He had everything he wanted.

Talon Stormbringer shook his head and explained that the world beyond Nightstone needed him. But Robert explained, then the world outside of Nightstone can come to him. Talon Stormbreaker heaved a deep sigh and stood up. He looked at the young boy and said, “I was afraid you’d say that. Your mother will miss you. But I will tell her you’re fine.”

“I am not going anywhere,” Robert replied.

“Oh, but you are,” and Talon placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder.

Robert blinked and everything was different. He suddenly found himself clinging to the ropes of a galley ship – and the only person on it was him – and this Talon Stormbringer. Lightning and thunder boomed across the heavens. Massive tides slammed against the side of the galley ship. “Where am I?” Robert screamed above the whipping sounds and fury of nature.

“You?” Talon seemed unaffected by the violently shifting boat. “You are on the adventure of your life. And I am afraid this is as far as I go.”

Robert looked around and saw that there was no one else on the galley ship – and when he turned to look back at Talon Stormbringer – even he had vanished.

There was the sound of the hull crashing into stone, and Robert was thrust forward, his hands burned as he tried desperately to cling to the rope but lost hold.

He awoke, washed ashore, fragments of the galley ship on the sides of him, littering the beach.

He stood up and wondered where he was…

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 5:59 am

If you get tired of me sharing these, let me know... :)
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... stcount=14

This one wrote:
Name: Neivara Amakiir
Race: Half Elf
Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer
Background: Haunted One

Neivara lost both her parents in a break-in to their home when she was a child.
The assailants were hard to pin down as to their humanity. As far as she recalls it, they almost looked demonic (like in the movie Mandy), but she isn't sure whether it was just her childish imagination or not.
She saved herself by hiding while both her parents were murdered, and ever since she wandered alone, from place to place, city to city, with only her to lookout for herself.
She couldn't really make foster homes work due to her wild and unpredictable magic, so she resorted to just staying alone. Never really having much of a family or friends.

As a result of these traumatic events she is quite eccentric. She tends to be a little paranoid, hyperactive, impulsive, and find people hard to trust, though she really yearns for true companionship, which she never had.

Attracted to chaos
Hyper aware to potential danger (though she herself often causes it without much foresight)
Based off the outline - here's what I've come up with.
A side note - I've been using the demon mention (Bar'garius) in other people's backgrounds that I've written (where a demon seemed to fit).
So far all of them have been with Sorcerer types - where a demon might just fit the background.
All of them have Bar'garius wanting the servitude of the victim's child.
So now I have this idea, of this Horned Devil (which is what Bar'garius is, in the other stories) traveling the multiverse, making these deals, trying to increase his power.
The demons Neivara sees are Vrocks, if that wasn't clear. Anyway...
If you like it, dislike it, have opinions - please share here. I take all feedback - good and bad - as it all helps me grow! :)

My name is Neivara Amakiir and I have been on the run from my past, for most of my life.

There’s a memory – at the edge of my mind that comes to me almost every night, just waiting for me to sleep.

It had been a night – just like any other night. My mother was a beautiful elf, with her long, flowing, blond hair that bounced into tiny curls at the end. Whenever she walked, you could see her hair bouncing. I remember as an infant, tugging on her hair, just to watch it spring into action. My father was a human, his name was Grendel. He and my mother had met a long, long time ago. My father hardly seemed to age, which was odd for being a human. My mother though? Her name was Saveena, and she seemed to uncharacteristically seemed to age for an Elf. Her blond eventually got streaks of grey in her bouncing blond hair, but that, somehow made her even more beautiful.

We had just finished dinner that night and retired to the living room. There was a sound of breaking glass further back in the house. My father turned to me and told me to hide. I quickly ran and hid in the spandrel – the small closet beneath the stairs.

I closed the door and only barely cracked it open so I could listen.

I heard my father say, “Bar’garius… what are you doing here?”

I heard another voice – someone I had never heard before, and I assume was this Bar’garius person. “From you, nothing. Your beautiful wife, however…”

Then I heard my mother. “Bar’garius – stop.”

“Ah,” I heard Bar’garius’ voice say. “So you show yourself, Saveena. Your daughter is of age now… She’s mine to take.”

“What?” I heard my father scream. “What madness do you speak of Bar’garius?”

“Oh,” Bar’garius’ voice sounded smug. “She’s… not told you?”

“Told me what?” I heard my father shout. I could almost feel the tension – like he was looking between my mother and this Bar’garius person. I could feel the fear creeping over me – had my mother bartered me off? Did she not love me? Want me?

“Have you not wondered how you’ve lived this… youthful life, Grendel?” Bar’garius’ voice sounded smug once more. “Go on, Seveena, tell him… I will wait here.”

“Seveena,” I heard my father plead, “what is he talking about?”

I’ve never heard someone dying before. But the sound in my mother’s voice sounded like death. “It’s true,” I could hear that she was weeping. “My love… I was so terrified of living my life without you… Because of my bloodline, I would out live you… and I would be forced to live this life without you… I couldn’t imagine it… So, five years ago – I … cast a dark ritual… and made a deal, that some of my own life force could be taken to extend yours… and the payment would be our first child…”

“Seveena…” I heard my father gasp. “What… have you done?” There was more sobbing from my mother… Then I heard my father shout, “I will not let you take her.”

“I am afraid the choice is not yours,” I heard Bar’garius reply. “If you won’t surrender her, then you have broken the vow… and if you’ve broken the vow… then I take back the gift…”

I heard my father scream. Then I heard my mother cry out.

I could hear her gurgling… dying… choking…

I could barely contain my tears.

I heard Bar’garius shout, “Find the girl.”

I closed the spandrel door completely – I remember my mother telling me, if I was ever scared, to run there – and nothing would ever find me. She showed me a Protection Rune she had placed on the inside of the door, and promised nothing would find me here… no matter how long and how hard they searched. I wondered now – was it to protect me from the nightmares I had had… The visions I had of my mother, standing in front of a portal, pregnant, with magic pouring out of it, penetrating her body, as she spoke to something beyond… or was it all to protect me from this moment? Had my mother known that this day would come?

When I peeked out of the door for just a moment – I saw what looked to be humanoids tearing the house apart – some of them looked human… some looked like they might have been human once… but now bore the resemblance to vultures…

I closed the door again and waited… I waited until I heard no more sounds. I lost track of time locked inside the spandrel. It could have been days… even weeks… before I opened the door again, and saw our home in a state of ruin. As I crawled out and went back to the dining room – I saw my father lying on the floor; only he had now looked as if he was over seventy years old. He wasn’t moving, I knew he was dead. My mother lay next to him, her neck snapped.

Whoever, or whatever did this was someone that was powerful – not only in magic, but in sheer strength.

Whoever or whatever it was, was also bound to keep searching for me. I needed to get what I could and leave. I would have to forget my friends. My family. Everyone. Everything.

I grew up – moving city to city – always afraid if I stayed in one place too long, whoever it was that had wanted me so desperately – would eventually stumble upon me. I never trusted anyone, because I didn’t know who I could trust. Someone I befriend could be working for whoever it is that is probably still out there looking for me.

I hope to one day find out who it this Bar’garius was – and put an end to him. Maybe then, I might find peace. Maybe then, I could settle down. Maybe then, I could make friends. And maybe then, I can have a family of my own…

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 6:00 am

Another one...
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... stcount=20
You? You are awesome.
I put together a wizard pretty quickly to fill in the needs of my party for Waterdeep Dragon Heist, and never quite figured out backstory details...
Name: Fizzle (or, in Gnommish, Fitzbern Imalgo Zal Zaroch Lirron Eldish, the Third. Or so he claims.)
Race: Forest Gnome
Class: Wizard (probably illusionist, possibly War Mage)
Background: Sage
Outline: Traveled to Waterdeep from his home in Baldur's Gate, and this is far from his first adventure. His ultimate goal? Steal Undermountain.
The entire thing.
Literally out from under Waterdeep, if possible. It'd be much nicer back home in Baldur's Gate.

—Impish: His first reaction to seeing an entirely purple house was to make a minor illusion of a green splotch of paint on the inside.
—Clever: Our first task was to break up a bar fight. Which he did with a single cantrip, making sounds imitating the Waterdeep City Guard coming through.
—Genuinely helpful: Is glad to help out where he can for no charge, mostly for the challenge of it.
—Exceedingly cautious when weapons might be drawn. Level 1 wizard. No Mage Armor. Hefty survival instinct.

I left it open as to potentially turning into a War Mage if you go that route...
As always, I welcome all feedback - good, bad, down the middle - it all helps me grow. :)

================================================== ============

They say anyone can call Baldur’s Gate “home.”

And for me, it was home for a great many years. One of the largest – if not the largest – cities on the Sword Coast, there was an abundance of rain, which would often get rather annoying to deal with. The slick cobblestones during these rains, were often covered in straw so people wouldn’t slip and break their backs. The smell of wet straw mixed the with the mildew that often grew in cellars, was more than enough for me – the great Fitzbern Imalgo Zal Zaroch Lirron Eldish, the Third (but you can call me Fizzle), to go out and see what the world had to offer.

Though I called Baldur’s Gate home, I was actually born not too far from the city – in Glimmerwood, well, officially called The Wood of Sharpteeth after some Werewolves took up residence there. Though my family and I never saw these supposed werewolves – the Dryads and Satyrs all claimed to have sensed them in the woods.

As a Forest Gnome, I learned to use illusions – in part, we had used it to protect ourselves in the woods, when unfavorable would come through. (I must admit, I did enjoy scaring a brigand or two, that took shelter in the woods, with the illusion of a Displacer Beast – foul creatures, those things!)

When my family had moved us to Baldur’s Gate, I had run into a wizard named Tarus Magestone. He was a tall human – jet black hair, but in contrast had ice blue eyes. He had a strong sense of magic all about him – like something I’d never seen or felt before.

I took to talking to him about magic, and he explained that it took dedicating studying. It was nice, he had told me, that as a Forest Gnome, I already had the inherent ability to use illusions to my benefit. But to experience true power would take dedication – and sacrifice.

And the way he said sacrifice told me, he was just talking about spending all my nights, reading tomes of magic. He seemed to indicate that there was something more. I expressed my interest in becoming more powerful and dedicating myself to the Arts of the Arcane. He explained that a true wizard does not simply rely on their magic; but knowledge of the world. So between the tomes of magic he forced me to study, and even scribe for him; he threw tomes of history about the world at me. One thing I took notice to, a lot of his history tomes dealt with the Undermountain.

I asked him about the Undermountain, and why so many of his history books dealt with it. That’s when he told me how he and his comrades had found their way into Undermountain, on pure chance, and sensed great magic within. Naturally curious, as any adventurer would be, Tarus and his companions began to explore. But tragedy struck quickly – as they discovered, not only were there magical traps – but magical beasts, the likes that none of them had seen before – awaiting any who dared enter – and teleporting out was impossible, as if some barrier prevented it. Tarus had literally watched all of his friends die before him. He had been forced to flee, on foot, out of magic, and out of luck – how he escaped he doesn’t remember. He simply remembers awakening outside, cut, tattered, bruised and barely alive.

He explained, after that – he became obsessed. He wanted to seek revenge against whoever had done that – and he learned of an ancient human wizard named Halaster Blackcloak, who was still alive – well beyond the human years that should be allowed. Clearly, Halaster took to some form of dark magic to extend his own life – and that’s when Tarus told me he knew, if he had any hope of extracting revenge, he would need to make his own sacrifice to rise in power.

Every time I asked Tarus what that sacrifice was, he would suddenly go quiet and excuse himself from the room.

Once a week, he would go down into a basement and lock himself away. Every time he came out, he felt surged with magical energy. One night, I snuck down into the basement to see what could be down there – it was the only room he had forbidden me to go into. I searched but couldn’t find anything – but that’s when I suddenly heard him coming down the stairs. I quickly hid myself with a minor illusion, terrified at his fury if he caught me down here. I saw he pressed on a brick, which then revealed a hidden room. In the room, from where I stood – I could see he took a dagger – cut his palm, and then poured red fluid from a vial onto the open wound – clenched his fist, and sat there for almost an hour before, leaving, pressing the brick again, which closed the room and walked upstairs. As he passed me, I could feel that surge of magic emanating from his body.

I should have left right then and there – honored his privacy, considering the time he had dedicated to me. But the curiosity got the best of me. I pressed on the brick and entered the room, opened the cabinet and there – vials of blood. It looked to be written in an ancient language – but one of the many history books Tarus had forced me to read, showed it was an ancient Elven language, used by the Elves of Lurkwood. They all read the same thing, “Dragon Blood.”

He was somehow infusing himself with Dragon Blood to enhance his magical abilities. I couldn’t help it – I should have turned around, I should not have pressed the brick – but curiosity struck again – and I took a vial of Dragon Blood.

The next day is when I told Tarus that I would be departing for Waterdeep to see what the world had to offer, and thanked him profusely for all he had shared with me. As I left, I couldn’t help but think of everything I had read about Undermountain, and the power Tarus told me he sensed. The power of magic was… addicting. What if… what if I could somehow get enough power to steal Undermountain? The whole thing? To claim all of its potential magic for myself.

The trek to Waterdeep would be boring, but I opened my vest and peeked in, and saw the Dragon Blood vial was still safe, and wondered – at what measure would I go to obtain such power?

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 6:01 am

Another one:
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... stcount=23
Kallista Fireheart, Enchanter Wizard, Winged variant Tiefling who ran away from a poor abusive home and taken to passing herself off as a noblewoman

So Palina (introduced in this) is an Enchantment Wizard, if that's not obvious.
And the thing that happens at the end is Hypnotic Gaze, which Enchantment Wizards get at level 2.
You may still be Level 1, but could brush it off (if the DM allows) as an RP moment, where the power is definitely inside of you...

Enjoy! Feel free to use or discard! As always - love feedback if you have any, good or bad!
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My name is Kallista Fireheart, and I am both blessed and cursed.

I can do what so few can do. At will I can fly into the sky, and share the currents of the wind with an eagle or hawk. I can find my freedom, my peace, and my tranquility in the clouds.

But I am cursed, by my appearance, for I was born a Tiefling. At first glance, most people think I am a demon of some kind.

You see, long ago – Asmodeus achieved godhood when he devoured the Divine Spark of Azuth and proclaimed all Tieflings are bound to him and bare his appearance. The truth of the matter is – Tieflings still had free will to do as they wished. But fear creeps into the hearts and minds of people, like a growing shadow as the sun sets on the horizon. Once the shadow of doubt is in their minds, that darkness never really goes away.

My father, Brell Fireheart took after his name sake. There was so much fire burning in his heart, that he was frequently consumed with rage. I didn’t know then – and I am not even sure I am convinced now – but I believe my father’s heart was bound to Darkness – and that he fought to regain control of it. Whether he was somehow bound to Asmodeus and fighting it – the results for me, were disastrous – especially being his daughter.

My father frequently lashed out, uncontrollably, and often without reason. First, it was just the words – they cut like daggers through my soul. He told me how I would never be anyone, or amount to anything. This was the worse, because this abuse did not leave bruises on my skin, that I could watch heal – or even show someone that I was suffering abuse.

It wasn’t long before the physical abuse came, by the time I was sixteen. The black eyes, the bruises, the broken arm – but, as strange as it might sound – I preferred this over the verbal abuse. These wounds I could mend, I could watch heal. The words he spoke to me, with such cruelty, were holes in my heart and soul that I don’t think would ever heal.

A wizard in the town, had seen me crying in one of my many attempts to run away from home, and took me under their wing. It was a human woman named Palina Stargazer. She had long, flowing blond hair, and the most beautiful of blue eyes. She explained to me, that there was magic in my blood, and that I had the power to make a change in my life.

It was easy to believe everything she said; it were as if she was peering directly into my tattered heart and soul, and whispering the words I had always wanted to hear. She showed me affection, love and trust, as she taught me the ways of magic. Though I had returned home, and faced the abuse again, just as I had done before, when I had tried to run away, I somehow felt better knowing that in the following mornings, I would be able to leave for the day and see Palina, so that she could continue to teach me the mystical ways of the Arcane world.

One day, my father, suspicious of my joy, no longer feeling broken under his thumb had followed me to Palina’s home. He had kicked down the door, and demanded that Palina surrender me over to him. But Palina did something that no one else had ever done – she stood up for me and refused my father’s demands, despite his terrifying presence.

The fire in my father’s heart burst into an inferno, and he lunged at Palina. Palina tried to hold him back with a number of spells, by the fire burned in my father’s eyes, having moved up from his heart. I had never seen him so angry. I heard Palina shout, “Run, Kallista! Run! Take with you what I’ve taught you! I will always be with you, in magic!”

I did as she said – I ran. I thought that perhaps my father would chase me, but he was so consumed with fury that someone had dared defy him, that he remained focused on Palina. As I fled, I looked back from time to time, and eventually saw smoke rising.

I knew that was Palina’s home, and that she had, undoubtedly sacrificed herself for me.

I took to the skies and flew until I could not – and found myself crashing into the brush and branches of a dark forest. I was panting, breathing hard, when I heard a wagon approaching. It was a beautiful wagon, pulled by magnificent horses. For the briefest of moments, I thought, perhaps I had died, and this was my passage to the heavens.

A handsome man stepped out, and extended his hand. “My lady,” I heard him say. “Do you need assistance?”

I looked up at him and smiled. As I took his hand into mine, as he pulled me up, I looked deep into his eyes, and smiled, “Why, yes, yes I do.”

I could almost hear my voice, imitating the tone of Palina – and wondered – is this what she meant when she said she’d always be with me?

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 6:02 am

Did you say MOAR?
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... stcount=32
I've got a concept I've been working on. His name is Thaddeus Hale. He is a human wild shape druid. The idea I had was he was some kind of Teddy Roosevelt/Ernest Hemingway type "gentleman hunter" who stalks powerful creatures, learns their shape, and then defeats them while shaped as the creature.
I am not sure if this is what you wanted, but damn, if I didn't have fun writing it.
Let me know if this works for you!

================================================== ================


They’re the filthiest of all the animals in the animal kingdom.

It’s all evidenced by my very own eyes, as I walk through the cobbled streets of Baldur’s Gate; the way they waste good food, just because someone decided not to finish their meal. The fires we burn needlessly, that send ash and soot into the skies. The oceans that we pollute that send fish to the surface, in hopes of breath, only to die of suffocation.

My name is Thaddeus Hale, and I am one of those humans.

I am not proud of the people I was born from.

Noise from the local tavern - The Wolf’s Head.

I cast my gaze sideways and several adventurers stumble out, clanking their steel mugs together in some form of celebration.

They see me looking at the job board, just outside the tavern. One of them – a fighter by the look of his appalling chainmail armor looked at me, “How do you plan to kill the wolves?” seeing no visible weapons.

“With my hands.”

They roared in laughter.

Despicable lot those adventurers. Not just them in particular, but adventurers in general. They wear the same armor, day in, day out, sweat, cut, bleed in it – and rarely, if ever, stop to clean it. Sure, they may shower themselves – but the armor will still reek of goblin blood.

Myself? I prefer one of my tweed jackets, a tie, and a pair of breeks, and leather, high hard boots of the highest caliber; from skins made from my own hunting expeditions.

The way adventurers blunder around, kicking down doors, storming into caves… it’s… atrocious. There’s a lack of finesse to everything they do. And they rely on their numbers to get the job done.

My name is Thaddeus Hale, and there’s reports of a girl that’s gone missing. They fear for the worse. Local activity around the town tends to believe that a pack of aggressive wolves have residence in the wilds, southwest of Baldur’s Gate near The Cloakwood.

If I am to be honest, I am pretty sure the girl is as good as dead. I wait for the drunken adventurers to pass me by and pray they don’t tarnish any evidence. None of them appear to be a Ranger, which I would at least, somewhat respect.

I pick up on the girl’s tracks – and I admit I am a little confused. Not only do I spot her tracks, but there are wolf tracks – very large wolf tracks. I place my hand in the paw print left in the damp soil. If what I am seeing is to be believed, this is one of the biggest wolves I’ve ever hunted. But why are the girl’s prints next to it – as if they’re running side by side?

And why are there no other wolf tracks? Just the big one?

It was time to go beyond my human self. I tilt my head back and take in a deep breath. First I feel my throat change – it gets hard to breathe for a moment – then the tingling sensation, for lack of a better word, dances up my spine and my eyes flare open – and I see the world in a brand new way. I take in a deep breath, and I can smell things from miles away.

I have become one with my wild shape – a wolf in this case – to pick up on any scents, and perhaps blend in with this Dire Wolf that seems to have somehow abducted a girl, in her twenties, without so much as a struggle. She should have seen the wolf coming – especially one so huge – under the watch of the full moon that seemed to keep an eye from the heavens.

After one day of tracking the wolf and girl, I lose track of the wolf – but manage to keep up with the girl’s track. She’s not hiding her tracks – she seems to be running. Broken branches and twigs snapped in half. On the second day, her tracks meet up with what appears to be a man’s footprints. This just keeps getting stranger and stranger. When she was free of the dire wolf – why didn’t she turn around? Run back home?

On the third day, deep inside The Cloakwood, I found evidence of a wolf’s den. I could hear voices coming from inside. I shifted into my human form and gazed inside. A woman was lying in a man’s arms – and by the looks of it, it was the woman I was out to find. I admit, I was surprised to find that she wasn’t dead – especially when I found evidence of the wolf den.

I tugged on my tweed jacket and straightened it out, before clearing my throat to make my presence known. “Excuse me, Lady Seilna, your father is deathly worried about your well-being.”

The man with Lady Seilna jumped to his feet and grabbed a dagger. “Who are you?” he barked at me.

“Me? My name is Thaddeus Hale,” I said with a smile. “And I have the pleasure of speaking with…”

“Thaddeus Hale,” I heard him whisper.

“Well, boy, I doubt that’s your name, because as I said, that’s my name,” I said with a smile. “Now why don’t you tell me your name, and put that dagger down, son, before you hurt yourself.”

“Thaddeus Hale,” he repeated. “You’re that hunter.”

“Well, yes, boy, I am a hunter,” I nodded in acknowledgement. “But you still haven’t told me your name.”

“Baron Tymar Von Steel,” the young man replied.

“Von Steel,” I repeated, familiar with the name.

I looked over at Lady Seilna, “Ma’am are you in any trouble?”

“No!” she cried out. “Tymar and I are in love… But… because of his sickness…”

Von Steel. They had been a family known for Lycanthropy.

“And you’re telling me you’re in love with this man,” I asked Seilna again.

“Yes! We have been in love for years, and kept it a secret, until his family was hunted down and killed. Now we are planning to run away together,” she answered.

I looked over at Tymar, as he still held his dagger.

I could hear them somewhere in the distance, behind me.

“Seilna, come to me.”

“Why?” she plead suspecting a trap.

“Just do it, girl.”

She approached me, and I tore off a piece of her dress. “Let me see your hand.” She extended her hand and I cut it slightly with a dagger and smeared blood on the torn dress. She pulled away, scowling at me.

“Listen. You’re not safe here. There’s a group of adventurers looking for you, Lady Seilna. And if they see Tymar, and recognize him, they won’t hesitate to kill him. If the two of you have any hope of surviving, you will leave now. Go west, to the coast. Run along the beach. The water will hide your tracks and your scent. Get to Orlumbor and book passage far from here. I will return to your father and present this torn dress and blood as proof of your death. Now, go.”

The adventurers would be able to track them.

Unless I did something about it.

I tucked the torn, bloody dress fragment beneath my belt and smiled. I took the form of a wolf, and ran towards the adventurers – and for three days, kept them spinning in circles in the woods, until they were no longer certain which way was North or South.

Then I returned to Baldur’s Gate, presented the torn, bloody dress to Seilna’s father, and explained I found evidence of her death.

Her father wept.

My name is Thaddeus Hale, and I am one of the greatest hunters of the land – because I am human, but I embrace the animal in me.

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Re: The D&D Corner

Post by Tawmis » Sun Jul 07, 2019 6:05 am

Yes! MOAR!
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsing ... stcount=33
These have been great so far! I hope you have time and inspiration to help me.

I've got a chaotic good human conquest paladin named Jesse Wolfwood who I've envisioned to be a bit of a drinking gambling cowboy driven by dispensing "justice" on his own terms. I'm refluffing the tenants of his oath to be "Oath of the Vigilante." I haven't come up with a reason for why yet, but somehow he's decided that while the law and authorities often mean well, they're prone to corruption and inaction. As such, while he isn't actively working against the legal authorities, he doesn't feel bound by them at all. This may have resulted in him having some run ins with the law.

Also, I haven't written the specifics of the tenants yet, so feel free to include any that you feel fit into the backstory. I know they're still going to be focused on using strength and fear to accomplish his goals similar to conquest paladins, but also more positive like inspiring/protecting the helpless while striking fear into the hearts of his enemies. I'm overly lawful myself, so I'm trying to write tenants that force me to get in character and act in ways I wouldn't normally. All that said, you didn't offer to write tenants, so feel free to skip this part.

Lastly, if you're familiar with LMoP from the starter set, some connection to the adventure would be great. My current plan was to have Jesse on a path of vigilante justice involving the Redbrands, but I don't really know anything about them yet, which makes it difficult to come up with details. Thanks!
LMoP is the D&D Module - called Lost Mines of Phandelver.
And the Redbrands are these thugs (who wear red scarfs, for a very specific reason)...

So I came up with some Tenants... based off the "vow" I use near the end of the story... Naturally, this is yours to use, edit, change up as needed.
But I liked the idea of Vigilante - so two of the three tenants come from the Oath of Vengeance, with one tenant to keep them on the "light" side since a vigilante operates outside of the law, and by any means necessary kind of feel...

As always, I welcome ALL feed back - good and bad!

Anyway -
“Jesse Wolfwood, we’re going to have to ask you to come with us.”

I looked up from the bottle in front of me and heaved a heavy sigh; local authorities.

“What can I do for you fine gentlemen, this wonderful evening?” I looked back at the bottle as if it had called my name.

“Serek is claiming you roughed him up. He’s got cuts and bruises all over his face.”

“Serek?” I looked back at the two local authorities. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Owns Silverstone Leathers,” one of the authorities explained.

“Such a bad name for a leather place,” I muttered. “Why would you have stone and leather go hand in hand in a name? Why not Silverblade Leathers? Now that,” I raised my index finger, “that would certainly make way more sense.” I rolled my eyes, “Especially since most blades are already silver, anyway…”

“Are you denying the charges presented by Serek?” one of them asked.

“No,” I shrugged. “Now that you told me who he was – I know him. The vendor at the Silverstone Leather. Same gentleman I saw beating his wife in the shop when it was closed, when I happened to go by and see if it was open. That gentleman?”

The authority figures glanced at each other. “Treena has made no such charges against Serek,” one of them finally said softly.

“She hasn’t, has she,” I asked. “But you know it happens. And has probably been happening for years. Have you ever arrested and charged Serek for his crimes?”

“Well,” one of them coughed uncomfortably, “no, because no charges have ever been brought up…”

“I would like to press charges against Serek, for the abuse he’s inflicted upon his wife,” I shrugged.

“Well, you can’t – because… you’re not the victim,” one of them replied.

“So only victims are allowed to press charges?” I asked, sliding my glass away from me and giving both men my unwavering attention, which seemed to make both of them ever more nervous.

“Well, yes,” the first one said, clearing his throat and swallowing hard.

“So if Treena is murdered one night,” I asked, “who will press charges? It certainly cannot be the victim, because she would already be dead.”

“Well, that is, Serek could press charges, to find out who murdered his wife,” the second answered, glancing nervously at his partner. “In the event such a horrible crime might happen.”

“But what if it’s Serek who killed her… in this example,” I asked, standing up. Both men took a step back. “He wouldn’t want charges pressed to find out who killed her. At least not until he’s cleaned up all the evidence that might indicate it was him.”

I began walking and both quickly shuffled after me.

“Where are you going?” one asked, looking at the other, wondering if they should try to stop me.

“Let’s go see Serek about this ‘abuse’,” I answered matter-of-factly.

“Which abuse?” the first asked.

“The one you inflicted on him?” the second chimed in.

“Or the abuse he inflicted on his wife,” the first seemed nervous to even say the words.

“Allegedly,” the second one coughed loudly.

“Yes! Allegedly,” the first one amended his question.

I stopped in the dusty street and spun on my heel and looked at them. “What about ‘both.’”

“Well! We can’t do both – let’s just go to our room and discuss this as reasonable people!” the first one pleaded.

When I passed the officer’s station, they looked at each other than over to me. “Wait! You’ve passed it! Where are you going?”

“As I said, to go see Berek,” I answered. Up ahead was his shop.

“Well, it’s already closed for the night it is,” the first officer said. “It’s late and all. He’s probably home with the wife.”

“The one he beats?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Allegedly,” the first one added under his breath.

“If he’s home for the night, can you tell me why a lamp burns in the back room? Can you not see the flickering?” I approached the door and turned to the two authority figures. “If he has indeed gone home, then there’s a risk his place may burn down. We’d better get inside and save his shop.”

I drew my blade, and both authority figures eyes seemed as if they might explode in their sockets, as I brought the hilt of my blade smashing through the window pane on the door, and reached in and unlocked it.

“Shall we?” I asked as I stepped inside the leather shop.

As I walked in, I heard someone say, “You told me this was secure. Get those shipments to Phandalin!”

I turned the corner of the shop, and saw a figure – human, jet black hair, and shadows for eye sockets, by the looks of it – wearing a red scarf, who quickly dashed through the door. I looked to the left and saw Serek.

“Who was your friend?” I asked, my weapon still in my hand.

“My friend?” he stammered nervously, backing up and knocking several books about leatherworking off of the barrels in the back. “What friend?”

I raised an eye brow. “What friend? Really? The one who made the quick exit.”

“Oh!” Serek swallowed. “Him. Yes. Him. He is… a friend of mine. Family friend. In town. Visiting. Only for the day. Headed back to Waterdeep.”

“Waterdeep? Really? I had thought I heard him mention Phandalin.”

Just then the two local authorities rounded the corner.

Serek saw them and jumped. “Finally!” he screamed. “You’re here! See how he harasses me! He was probably going to run me through had the two of you not arrived when you did.”

“My blade is the hand of Tyr,” I began to chant, “that brings Justice – swift and with mercy, upon the land. I am the Light that pierces the darkness, and never shall there be mercy for the wicked – and I will fight the wicked, by any means necessary, and at any cost necessary – even if it is my own life that must pay, for I am the blade of Tyr, and I bring swift justice to the wicked. Serek, confess your sins, for which I have witnessed, and be cleansed as you stand before Tyr.” I raised my blade, and Serek collapsed to the ground, holding up his hands defensively.

“It’s true! It’s true!” he cried out. “I have beat Treena. I have hurt her. And for unjust reasons. Sometimes, simply because I am angry! Gods, have mercy on my soul – please don’t kill me.”

I lowered my blade and looked at the two officers. “I’d like to press charges against Serek, for the crimes of abuse against his wife, now that he has confessed his sins.”

The two officers stared at each other.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked, impatiently. This seemed to jump start them as they kneeled down and quickly subdued Serek.

My name is Jesse Wolfwood, and I am a Paladin of Tyr – I am here to bring Justice to this world. Even if it means doing what the Law cannot, and sometimes, even forbids. I follow the path of my God, which may bring me in conflict with the Laws of Mortals.

But this is the life I have been blessed to lead.

Now, to find out who that man with the red sash was… and what’s going on in Phandalin…

Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.
Fight the Greater Evil. Faced with a choice of fighting my sworn foes or combating a lesser evil, I choose the greater evil.
By Any Means Necessary. My qualms can't get in the way of exterminating my foes.

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