This wasn't as much of a challenge as I thought it would be...Mythalidor;24145419 wrote:So I had another character I was wondering if you could think a backstory for. This either a challenge or super easy, based on how well you deal with vagueness.
Name: Haven't decided yet but I plan a Virtue name, whichever of these three you can fit most easily as part of the background: Silence, Defiance, or Tact. Or you can pick a different Virtue.
Class: Warlock/Fighter? Not 100% He is supposed to be an archer with a demonic familiar, sort of shadowy themed.
Background: Haunted One or Folk Hero
Concept: The main concept of this character is to be sort of a demonic version of a ranger, pact of the chain familiar rather than an animal companion, uses a lot of darkness based spells. I feel like he is a generally nice guy, helping the little people, but has had of lot of bad things happen in his past, either to him or by him.
Based on the virtue names I had a few ideas that might help, but feel free to ignore these if you can think of anything better.
Silence: He could have been an assassin/spy and later was betrayed, or chose to leave his employers.
Defiance: He could have been a slave or something, and decided to fight back for freedom.
Tact: He could just be very tactful in his speaking, and he used his silver tongue to gain powers from his warlock patron, then they got upset with him, or something.
I don't really know, I good at thinking up characters but I'm bad at deciding details.
Using what you provided (mostly about being a Fighter/Warlock... with a demonic "animal"...) the gates opened up...
On how you could be demonic in nature (with a demonic like pet) and also still have a pet like a ranger... though being a Fighter/Warlock.
You could even change the "demonic pet" I selected for you into a Hell Hound or something similar if that's more fitting for what you had in mind... but I thought what I picked really fit with the Warlock side of things!
As always, I'd love to hear feedback!
I have lived my entire life fighting the evils that roam this world. Despite every effort I’ve made to save the lives of those who are good and innocent, people can never see past the cover of which my story is; and that is, that I am a Tiefling, so my appearance is demonic in nature, which invokes a feeling of distrust, even from those whom I have just saved. Being a Tiefling means that somewhere in my bloodline there is demonic influence that has tainted and waited for this moment to spring forward and birth a being that looks more demon than man.
Because of that resistance to who and what I look like, I have adopted the name Defiance; perhaps because I never had a true name of my own. From what I have discovered about my own past, my parents, both human, were killed by their fellow villagers. When the mid-wife delivered my mother’s baby, she immediately dropped me and screamed. My father leaned over to see me, and saw my demonic appearance and knew that he and his wife were doomed. My father quickly scooped me up, and ran to the nearby river and placed me on a small log. It’s unclear if he was hoping I would die, or trying to save my life; but by the time he returned home, the villagers had gathered, with the mid-wife explaining what she’d seen. My mother was dragged out of bed, my father strung up. My mother was forced to watch my father hang, since he claimed he had made a pact with a demon, in hopes of having a healthy child, as my mother had had four failed births in the past. I could never find evidence that it was true that my father made such a deal. He may have been trying to save my mother. But my mother died a few short hours later, from bleeding out from an internal wound, said to have been inflicted by one of the horns on my head.
As an infant, I was found by a farmer, further down the river, who took me in and brought me to the Church to see what should be done. The Church took me in and raised me, to see if it is true that an infant, who is not raised around evil, can be raised to be good; despite their appearance. The Church raised me and were kind to me; but other orphans still tended to stay away from me, despite the Church’s insistence that the children interact with me.
When I was old enough, I thanked the Church and ventured into the world on my own. Something the Church had not prepared me for was the world outside. Having been raised by the Church, my life had been a sheltered one; and it was a band of mercenaries who came upon me, fighting against several goblins, and took me in and taught me how to fight.
When I learned what they were doing, harassing nearby towns, rather than “protecting” them as they had told me, I turned on the leader and informed the nearby town’s local militia where the mercenary hide out in the hills was. The militia came and decimated the mercenaries and thanked me.
And this is where my story took an unexpected twist. As I was leaving the town, cutting through the very hills the mercenaries had made their home; I saw a wagon being attacked by Bugbears. I quickly rushed to their aid; but they were stronger than me, and one blow to the back of my head sent me spinning into darkness.
I had thought I had merely been knocked unconscious; but in hindsight I wonder if I had been killed. In the darkness, a fiery light appeared, and my very soul seemed to be seared by fire. When my eyes flew open, there was a Balor demon, sitting on a throne, and his rumbling voice sounded like fire crackling on dry wood, “My son, it is good to see you.”
I knew now, this was the demon who somehow influenced my bloodline. “What do you want?” I spat back, realizing I was suddenly in chains, my arms pulled behind my back, a chain around my neck, pulling me painfully forward.
“I wish to make a pact with you,” he laughed.
“I refuse,” I growled before even listening.
“That would be unwise, because that would leave your soul here with me,” his smile was like a fire spreading across the woodlands.
“What is this pact then?” I hissed.
“You are to collect the souls of vile individuals,” he explained. “Something you were already doing.”
“Why would I do this for you?” I snapped back.
“Because otherwise you stay, chained up there, never to die, all eternity, feeling your bones and flesh being pulled apart, but never to be sundered,” he explained. “As for the why, before you even ask, there is a War In Hell happening now. These souls you take will be absorbed by him,” his hand gestured to a Quasit sitting next to him. “You feed him souls, they come to me, I make them a part of my army, and use them as soldiers.”
He smiled, “Don’t worry, the Quasit is able to polymorph into anything; allowing you to move freely upon the world without anyone suspecting the truth – that you serve a demon. Do you accept?”
I closed my eyes; I would serve him for now; but I would find a way to break free.
“I do,” I said.
“Good,” he laughed, and stood and touched my forehead. I felt my soul rip in half, and a portion of his enter mine. “Now we’re bonded. A piece of my magic is now yours to command, Warlock.”
I felt my soul, my flesh, everything shredded apart then opened my eyes again, to be next to the caravan. The people I had come to help, all dead, and the bugbears now long gone.
They would be the first souls I would feed this damn Quasit…