Back Story.....ugh im Horrible - Downloaded from the Wizards Community, all coding removed by Solauren

Post/Author/DateTime	Post
#1 33Painmaster33 Mar 30, 2015 21:52:03	Trying to come up with a decent back story for my War Cleric.......I would like her to have been trained as a warrior of some sort excelling in melee combat. Then something happend to her in her life personally such as the loss of a close friend and was unable to help them so she turned to the church and learned the ways of healing. But the warrior side of her always shined through and dedicated herself to tempus, but i just dont know how to word a story to make it decent and believable. Any help?
#2 Macv12 Mar 30, 2015 22:13:59	That sounds fine already. Throw in a couple names and dates and suddenly it's a narrative. I could fanfic you up a story, but I'm sure someone else will in much less time than it would take me to do so. :[
#3 transcendantviewer Mar 30, 2015 22:21:18	How about something like a war priest? She was just a warrior in a war earlier in her life, but, after seeing the horrors on the battlefields, developed a devout faith in order to cope and help the dead reach their peace in the afterlife?
#4 Macv12 Mar 31, 2015 0:54:15	So, here's a lengthy backstory narrative that you could draw from. Certainly not the only way of executing this concept, but I had fun writing it. Note that I didn't really care to make the cleric's motivation here utterly in-line with Tempus's portfolio, since every follower has their own spin on what someone teaches. Just wanted to push it above "lowest common denominator" teachings to give the story personality. Hopefully this is "believable," and compelling in some way. Anywho, Show "Never Again." This was the vow Paine Masterson took as she dragged Mackie's body off the field. They enlisted at the same time, trained for as many days; what right did one stray arrow have to take the life of one and not the other? For years, she had trained with her sword. She had trained all that time to fight, not to die. Only in that day, when the death of her friend earned nothing more than shaking heads and empty sentiments, did it occur to her that the world didn't agree. Soldiers were expendable, meant to be thrown into the jaws of the enemy and gluttonously devoured until it choked to death. But that was wrong. Her friend wasn't expendable. No sentient being is "expandable." She had always looked down on the healers who waited in tents in the back ranks, fixing up those who fell from the monster's gnashing teeth just so they could jump right back into them. She knew the monster had to be slain. But maybe there was something to their mission. It was no better to selfishly hone her own skills, if she was the only one left standing after. Her allies, and her friends, deserved better. She consulted those who practiced healing. Visiting a temple in a nearby town, she encountered a certain stern-looking priest with a sword at his belt. She said to him: "your god gives you the power to protect those you wish. How can I get that power?" The priest looked at her briefly before continuing about his business. "You have a good sword arm. What do you need me for?" "It's not enough," she replied. "My honor compels me to defend my allies, but I can't protect everyone just by killing." "Then let them stand or fall on their own power. The only person whose strength you can decide is yourself." "But I could arm them, or make them stronger! I don't care if it makes me weaker, I just--" In a flash, the priest had drawn his sword and pointed it at Paine. She scrambled to draw her own weapon and defend herself, but the priest's attacks came faster than her own, and while she made mistakes, the priest's every strike connected flawlessly. She soon found herself crashing into the floor. "Do you care now," came the priest's voice, "how weak you are? What good are you to anyone else when I can deny them your aid?" He then sheathed his sword and turned to go about his business. Paine stood slowly, sword drawn. "How do I earn your power?" "You do not." "Then how do I GET it?" The priest turned sharply, piercing into her eyes with a stern gaze. "I am no stronger than you. It is recognition of this that gives me strength." She surely looked confused, but she didn't turn away. The priest must have seen something valuable in her at that moment. "I acknowledge my weakness, but I do not accept it. To accept weakness is be defeated. Weakness is a sin. Study here, and through dedication to Tempus and to your own power, maybe you will earn forgiveness for your sin. "As your allies suffer for your failure to protect them, Tempus may sew power into your anguished cries to reverse their wounds. "When your mortal arm falls short of the call to end your foe, Tempus may take hold of it and lend you strength to overcome your weakness. "Tempus desires for you to be strong and victorious. But always remember: he desires these things for your enemies as well. They are just as undeserving of them as you are. Only knowledge of your sin and utter dedication to overcoming it for yourself and your companions will be recognized and rewarded by Tempus. While your enemies think themselves strong, you know you are weak, yet seek to best them anyway; your ambition and faith constitute an open road before you, and Tempus will open that road if you have the dedication to pursue it. "The day you no longer need to grovel before Tempus and borrow his strength, is the day you will be truly deserving of his favor. Until then, I can only teach you how to seek victory and share it with others." From that day, the young swordswoman trained at the temple; not just her sword arm, but her heart as well. "Never again." She wouldn't let an innocent die. She wouldn't let her allies fall while she stood. Those who fought with her wouldn't just be soldiers; they would be warriors. Just as one so undeserving as her was shown the path to victory, she would cut that path open for others, and shelter them as long as they chose to walk it.
#5 BRJN Mar 31, 2015 16:06:36	She was always able (and sometimes eager) to take up the Power of Death over people, but was caught totally unprepared when she needed to bestow the Power of Life - and didn't have anything at all to offer. Her friend died in her arms, begging for help until his/her last breath. Grief-stricken (and ashamed of her failure, truth be told) she stumbled off the battlefield painfully aware of the void in her personality, capabilities, and soul. She was taken to a field hospital with some other combat-disoriented* fighters, and under the ministrations of the medics she began to form a purpose in life. She would become a combat medic. Unlike the Earth version of this position, which emphasizes the "medic" part, she would often emphasize the "combat" part - without neglecting the rest, when the situation arises. * "shell-shocked" is closer to what I want to convey, but D&D doesn't have artillery ammunition commonly available. She was in the same kind of shape as the two soldiers who General Patton famously slapped: nothing physically wrong with them, but sensory overload and emotionally disoriented.
#6 33Painmaster33 Mar 31, 2015 20:42:01	Macv omg this was truly Awesome i love it! really what i was wanting to say but do not have the gift to put it into writing thank you so much!
(Reply to #6) Macv12	33Painmaster33 wrote:

So, here's a lengthy backstory narrative that you could draw from. Certainly not the only way of executing this concept, but I had fun writing it. Note that I didn't really care to make the cleric's motivation here utterly in-line with Tempus's portfolio, since every follower has their own spin on what someone teaches. Just wanted to push it above "lowest common denominator" teachings to give the story personality. Hopefully this is "believable," and compelling in some way.

Show

"Never Again."

This was the vow Paine Masterson took as she dragged Mackie's body off the field. They enlisted at the same time, trained for as many days; what right did one stray arrow have to take the life of one and not the other?

For years, she had trained with her sword. She had trained all that time to fight, not to die. Only in that day, when the death of her friend earned nothing more than shaking heads and empty sentiments, did it occur to her that the world didn't agree. Soldiers were expendable, meant to be thrown into the jaws of the enemy and gluttonously devoured until it choked to death.

But that was wrong. Her friend wasn't expendable. No sentient being is "expandable." She had always looked down on the healers who waited in tents in the back ranks, fixing up those who fell from the monster's gnashing teeth just so they could jump right back into them. She knew the monster had to be slain. But maybe there was something to their mission. It was no better to selfishly hone her own skills, if she was the only one left standing after. Her allies, and her friends, deserved better.

She consulted those who practiced healing. Visiting a temple in a nearby town, she encountered a certain stern-looking priest with a sword at his belt. She said to him: "your god gives you the power to protect those you wish. How can I get that power?"

The priest looked at her briefly before continuing about his business. "You have a good sword arm. What do you need me for?"

"It's not enough," she replied. "My honor compels me to defend my allies, but I can't protect everyone just by killing."

"Then let them stand or fall on their own power. The only person whose strength you can decide is yourself."

"But I could arm them, or make them stronger! I don't care if it makes me weaker, I just--"

In a flash, the priest had drawn his sword and pointed it at Paine. She scrambled to draw her own weapon and defend herself, but the priest's attacks came faster than her own, and while she made mistakes, the priest's every strike connected flawlessly. She soon found herself crashing into the floor.

"Do you care now," came the priest's voice, "how weak you are? What good are you to anyone else when I can deny them your aid?"

He then sheathed his sword and turned to go about his business. Paine stood slowly, sword drawn. "How do I earn your power?"

"You do not."

"Then how do I GET it?"

The priest turned sharply, piercing into her eyes with a stern gaze. "I am no stronger than you. It is recognition of this that gives me strength."

She surely looked confused, but she didn't turn away. The priest must have seen something valuable in her at that moment.

"I acknowledge my weakness, but I do not accept it. To accept weakness is be defeated. Weakness is a sin. Study here, and through dedication to Tempus and to your own power, maybe you will earn forgiveness for your sin.

"As your allies suffer for your failure to protect them, Tempus may sew power into your anguished cries to reverse their wounds.

"When your mortal arm falls short of the call to end your foe, Tempus may take hold of it and lend you strength to overcome your weakness.

"Tempus desires for you to be strong and victorious. But always remember: he desires these things for your enemies as well. They are just as undeserving of them as you are. Only knowledge of your sin and utter dedication to overcoming it for yourself and your companions will be recognized and rewarded by Tempus. While your enemies think themselves strong, you know you are weak, yet seek to best them anyway; your ambition and faith constitute an open road before you, and Tempus will open that road if you have the dedication to pursue it.

"The day you no longer need to grovel before Tempus and borrow his strength, is the day you will be truly deserving of his favor. Until then, I can only teach you how to seek victory and share it with others."

From that day, the young swordswoman trained at the temple; not just her sword arm, but her heart as well. "Never again." She wouldn't let an innocent die. She wouldn't let her allies fall while she stood. Those who fought with her wouldn't just be soldiers; they would be warriors. Just as one so undeserving as her was shown the path to victory, she would cut that path open for others, and shelter them as long as they chose to walk it.