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  #16  
Old Jan 5th, 2020, 12:23 AM
The Dark Star's Avatar
The Dark Star The Dark Star is offline
Man of Many Faces
 
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Name: Hakoom Gragoran
Race: Dragonborn (Red Ancestry)
Class: Paladin (Oathbreaker)
Link to Character Sheet

 


 


Personality Trait: I am always calm, no matter what the situation, I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
Ideal: There's a spark of good in everyone.
Bond: I'm guilty of a terrible crime. I hope I can redeem myself for it.
Flaw: I have a tell that reveals when I'm lying, tail begins to move around more, like when you hold a cat when it's frustrated and is preparing to make an escape.

 


 

And finally, the 8 step background creator:

 

Last edited by The Dark Star; Jan 5th, 2020 at 12:28 AM.
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  #17  
Old Jan 10th, 2020, 08:45 AM
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Huhart Huhart is offline
Foolish Mortal
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Link to char sheet
Name: Blackroot
Race/Class: Firbolg Tempest Cleric
Background: Folk Hero

Appearance/Personality
Blackroot is tall, strong and wise, the epitome of Firbolg kind. His dark auburn hair and beard are well groomed and often braided. His demeanor is grim. He is usually moody and somber, unlike his kinfolk. Some believe he has lost touch with the spirit of the forest and thus drained of happiness. The influence of the sea goddess has pulled his thoughts toward chaos. Maintaining his peaceful nature has become a constant struggle. Blackroot fears that one day he may fall into the wild ways from which there is no return.

Backstory
In the Duskwood forest north of Elsir Vale, a nameless tribe of firbolg lived in peace for ages. Led by the elder shaman Oakheart, they revered nature and abhorred violence. Their peace was only disturbed by the occasional gnoll raids. When the gnoll hoard came, the firbolgs would hide, letting the marauders take what they would. It was the way of things.

Brightroot, as he was known then, was strong and wise, handsome and brave. He was expected to be the next ruler of the tribe, if ever Oakheart would give up the position. The old shaman was training him in the ways of their god, but Obad-Hai had yet to give Brightroot his blessings. Though he hid his feelings, his failure to invoke the magic led to frustration and anger.

Few visitors came to their village, but the occasional trader. On one such merchant caravan came a genasi woman named Rohana. She was beautiful and exotic. Brightroot was smitten with her. As they became close, he told her of his problems. Rohana worshipped Melora. Perhaps the sea goddess would give him her blessings if the woodland god would not. Rohana left soon after, but promised to return next summer.

Autumn was the time of the gnoll raids. As usual, Oakheart commanded that they take what they could and hide. This did not set well Brightroot. He wanted to fight the gnolls, to get rid of them for good. Brightroot convinced his friends Rooster, Winesap and Dewdrop to join him. They practiced at warfare in secret.

When the gnoll horde came to plunder their village, Brightroot and company were there to oppose them. For one last time, Brightroot beseeched Obad-Hai to grant him his blessing. Once again, he was denied. He then called upon Melora and was surprised when the power came to him. It was wild and destructive magic and he could barely contain it. When a group of gnoll assaulted him, Brightroot decimated them with a thunderous wave of force. He then took on the leader of the gnoll’s and defeated him single handedly. The rest of the horde ran away in retreat.

When they returned, The tribe praised them as heroes, but Oakheart did not. Winesap was killed in the battle and poor Dewdrop had been abducted. “What is the price of replaceable things compared to a life?” Oakheart orated, “When the gnoll return, they will not be content to just take our goods. They will want blood also. You have not saved us, you have doomed us. You are Brightroot no more. I name you Blackroot and exile you from our tribe. Begone!”

Having little choice, Blackroot left the tribe. Word traveled fast and no other tribe would have him. He remembered that Rohana had gone to town of Brindol. Perhaps they could have a life together.

 

 
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  #18  
Old Jan 10th, 2020, 09:27 AM
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JaredSyn JaredSyn is offline
Great Wyrm
 
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Name: Ember
Race: Half Elf Eladrin
Class: Monk (Sun Soul)
Appearance: By most accounts Ember is your average build and height for a half elven male. However what stands out most about him is the golden eyes and hair that looks almost as if it were dancing flames, as well as lines along his face that seem to glow as well (with the help of prestidigitation).
Personality: Embers personality can shift quickly, and it has often been said his mood can shift as quickly as the wind. Even as such he is reliable and loyal to those he calls friends and trustworthy to a fault. He is often quick to act if someone offends or offers to threat to him or those he cares for.
Background: Ember knows very little about his parents having grown up only knowing his human mother up to the age of 9 when she died from sickness. From that point on Ember has been on his own making his own way in the world. His mother rarely spoke of his father, saying very little if anything at all about him especially to Ember. Know matter how many times he asked she always refused to answer him.

Ember is eager to know more about his heritage and would very much like to know who is father was or is. He is certain that he was of elven descent based upon his own abilities. His strange hair and appearance was a tool he used to ensure others left him be on the streets using their fear against them.

 


 


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Last edited by JaredSyn; Jan 10th, 2020 at 09:28 AM.
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  #19  
Old Jan 10th, 2020, 12:18 PM
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hafrogman hafrogman is offline
Iron DM Judge 2024
 
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Name: Waugh Brokejaw
Race: Half-orc
Class: Bard (Valor)
Background: Outlander

Appearance: Pale, skinny and weak is how the clan warriors would describe him. His limbs are long, but lack the knotted and corded muscles of a true orc. He is tall enough, they suppose, but stretched out like a spear instead of broad like an axe. His skin is the same way, too smooth and thin, showing tinges of soft, pink fleshiness underneath. His black hair is too clean an his features are too fine and delicate, he wears a bone mask, either to hide his shame or to shield his vulnerabilities. Apart from the differences that mean so much to some, to others he looks like nothing more than any savage orc tribesman, clad in tattered patchwork leather and metal, decorated with primitive symbology and the trophies of his kills.

Personality: The way Waugh sees it, when everyone in your life shuts you out and tells you how worthless you are, you have two options. You can crumple under the pressure, and start believing them. Or you can make them eat their words. As a result, he has grown into an incredible proud and competitive warrior. It is not enough to be simply 'better', they will always make excuses and try to lessen your accomplishments. Instead you must be twice what they are. Stronger. Faster. More cunning and more ruthless. They have tried to make him ashamed of his heritage, but instead he has made it a part of him. Even if they were inclined to listen, they would not believe him if he said that human blood gave him an edge, but he will use everything at his disposal to prove himself.

Backstory: "Half"-orc they call me. Half as good. Half as strong. Half as worthwhile. The orcish tongue has not one, but two distinct words for the hybrid of orc and ogre, but if you are so unfortunate to be born with human ancestry, then you are the sum of an orc... and nothing. Sharga left her clan for reasons unknown, then returned a year later, great with child. Still, she was welcomed back... until her child was born. A pallid, frail thing with no business being an orc. And it wept. Orc babies do not cry. Its lungs betrayed its half-breed nature in a way more telling than any other. They named me for the noises I made, so they could mock me with it every day.

The clan never forgave me for existing, for being born. They pushed my mother to the edges of the camp, and we lived there on the scraps and leavings of the others. Still, she sheltered me from their displeasure long enough for me to be able to defend myself. I had to learn fast. The other younglings were stronger, and much larger than I, and so I fought them that much the harder. Despite my best efforts, I would never be a warrior like my peers. Instead I had to be a warrior of my own making.

I was barely grown the first time the magic awoke in me. I blood pounded in my ears like the war drums that called the tribe to battle. I could feel the rhythm building within me, and I screamed. Such power my voice contained that I shattered my own mouth apart as I shouted my foe to his doom. I ate mush and soup for weeks, but it was worth it. I was given the name Brokejaw that day, and I thought I had finally earned my place. But magic is weak, not a proper tool for a orc warrior. I had my name, but it only set me further apart. Still, it was within me. I could feel its power, and I would use it as I saw fit.

When Tusk roused the clans to war against the humans, I marched with them. Every arm was needed, was welcome. Finally, I was part of something larger than myself. But once again, my optimism was misplaced. The invasion had broken upon the might of our foes, and the battle turned to a rout. In the confusion as we quit the battle field, I felt a coldness as my leg collapsed beneath me. As I fell to the earth, I saw the figure of my own tribesmen, axe still wet with my blood. He grinned as he followed the others away, leaving me behind... one more useless thing to be discarded.

1: How did you get here? Left injured but alive on the battlefield following a cowardly attack by my own erstwhile allies, I was captured and imprisoned by Overlook forces.
2: Why have you come? For victory and glory! Although, in truth, I lack some of the destructive urges that drive the other warriors. I joined the march so that I could belong.
3: When did it all start? Perhaps I have always been on this road. But the most recent journey began when the warlord Tusk arrived at our camp to rally us to his cause.
4: Who have you met along the way? Tusk and Two-fang.
5: What is the point? I am no longer entirely certain. My whole life has been spent trying to belong. Perhaps it is time to forge a new path.
6: Where next? Until I can get out of this cell, I'm not going anywhere.

 
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