Name
Race
Class
Armor and Weapons
Magical Items
Short Story about Background
Drow
Rogue
Wears a white smoking jacket and black slacks over a leather bodysuit (leather armor, in game terms). He wields daggers not necessarily for the accuracy, but definitely for the style.
He's 1st level at the moment, but he has a magical box of cigars that never runs out. When things get dire, he lights one and goes to town. So far, whenever he lights a cigar, he never rolls lower than a 14 on the d20 for the rest of the encounter.
Zhales was once the leader of a feared and powerful organized crime family in the Underdark, until even his fellow drow tired of his backstabbing and manipulative ways. He was notorious for giving great loans and protection deals, under the caveat of a "24-hour lifetime guarantee."
Now exiled to the surface, he has taken up adventuring with such companions as paladins and other intensely good fellows. By doing nothing but good deeds for the time being, he hopes to ingratiate himself to as many people as possible while building up a following, until finally he takes his place as the head of a semi-legitimate crime family upon the surface, and becomes far more powerful than he ever was in the Underdark.
Tiefling
Hybrid Bard/Feylock
Armor and Weapons (lots of general other gear)
Short Story about Background (still in progress)
(Eladrin) Highborne Sun-Elf of house Firebrande
(Wizard|Swordmage) Spell-sword
So far, all he has is a Staff of Missile Mastery, working on that.
(Character is for a FR campaign)
Erethun was born to a long line of Sun-Elf nobles, heirs to House Firebrande, Archduke of the Blazing DayStar.
While on convoy near the Sea of Fallen Stars, Erethun's caravan was ambushed by Thayan slave-traders. The encounter left him a slave to a regional warlord in Thay, as well as a very conspicuous scar along the right side of his face, including the top half of his right ear missing.
After several years as a slave, Erethun was rescued by a guerrilla army of rebels from Aglarond. Recognizing his obvious noble stock, Erethun was sent to the White Lotus Academy (which we haven't yet nailed down a location for in Faerun).
Upon graduation from the Academy, Erethun became, for a time, a staff-and-sword-for-hire (a misunderstanding when used the word "sell-sword" is what led to him calling himself a "spell-sword."). After prospering for a time after this fashion, Erethun ran afoul of Thayan merchants, one of whom recognized his missing ear and tried to re-capture him. Since then, Erethun has been on the run from his former captors, afraid to linger anywhere too long.
Human
Crusader/Swordsage/Master of Nine
Bracers, fists
At 18th level he has lots of magic items, but the most distinctive are his Griffin Tattoos on his hands which is known as The Griffin War Orb. In essence, his unarmed strikes are a Legacy Weapon paid with feats dedicated to Legacy. They don't follow the usual Legacy Weapons rules. This is a DM-made campaign plot point thing and technically count as an artifact. They improve the unarmed strike variant swordsage damage despite not leveling fully in swordsage, enchancement bonuses, bane to demons and devils, evasion, SR, Disruption, and I can invest XP in them like the Oriental Adventures Samurai for whatever magical enchancement I want. I currently have them attuned to Martial Discipline Devoted Spirit, attuned to Martial Discipline Stone Dragon, and Holy.
Godric is a descendent of a powerful Wizard/Druid of long ago named Desaro who created the War Orb. Though proficient with weapons, he disdains their use for his own fisticuffs. He is the weapon. He likes to fight shirtless as an insult to his enemies, for they were defeated by a half-naked unarmed human. As a reference point, consider Jean-Claude Van Damme in the movie "Double Impact" where he first shows off as the instructor in a women's dance class then heads off to the karate class and drop kicks the tough guy. That's Godric. I created Godric before I ever saw that movie, but when I saw that scene I was floored.
Shadar-Kai
Tactical Warlord
Jagged longsword, mithryl small shield with symbol of the Raven Queen, heavy black robe with face-concealing hood, worn over hide armor.
Magic items - standard warlord fare, helm of heroes, magic armor & weapon, etc.
Xalik was born to a common house of Shadar-Kai, in a city controlled by several powerful academies - a situation meant to ensure that only the most elite, most highly competant individuals had access to the reigns of power. In practice, admission to the academies restricted by one's social status, and was subject to complicated politial games between the noble houses.
Due to his lowborn status, Xalik was barred access to the city's arcane academy, and enrolled in the army instead. Skill in battle against rival cities kept Xalik alive, and his tactical and strategic skills saw him quickly elevated to the rank of a junior officer. From there, he successfully petitioned for entry to a powerful military academy, where he met and fell in love with a highborn woman. Though she returned Xalik's affection, she would not marry below her station, and chose instead a highborn suiter who also sought her hand, an elite warrior accepted by the military academy at a young age.
Enraged, Xalik challenged his rival to an honor duel, thinking his real battlefield experience would mean more then a lifetime of secluded training - but he was wrong. Easily defeated, Xalikonus was left scarred and humiliated. Disgraced, unable to face his failure, Xalik left the academy and his home city, taking up life as a mercenary and later adventurer, eventually leaving the Shadowfell for the Natural world. Now he dreams of making a name for himself in the wider world, and of one day returning to his homeland as a legendary general, at the head of a great army, to strike down the noble houses that he blames for his disgrace.
Xalik is a grim, fatalistic warrior. He doesn't fear death, but neither does he allow himself to be drawn into combat on unfavorable terms - a lesson dearly learned. He treats his allies as tools with which to achieve victory, which doesn't earn him many friends, but his skill as a battlefield leader, and courage in the face of danger, have earned him the respect and trust of his adventuring companions. In turn, their loyalty and companionship has dulled the edge of Xalik's bitterness and hate.
Tiefling
Brutal Scoundrel Rogue
Blade of Night, Mage's Parrying Dagger, Darkleaf leather armor, boots of striding, cat paws, periapt of perception.
Total's mother left him in the care of a monastery in Skaug (Nelanther Isles) then disappeared. While Total was still young, the monastery was attacked by pirates, and he was the sole survivor (to his knowledge), though he was captured by the pirates. The pirates were later hunted down and killed, and Total was left to wander the streets of Skaug. Taken in by the Thieves' Guild, he finally finds a family. There he becomes the best student of the Pasha, and is set to inherit his title. At least until he is framed for the murder of the guild Pasha, and is forced to run from his only known home.
Total then joins a bard and paladin (who happened to be the people who killed the pirates), and adventures with them for a while, until he has found the strength to be able to return and face his accuser in the Thieves' Guild. After clearing his name, he takes command of the Thieves' Guild, and refocuses the guild toward ridding the Nelanther Isles and the rest of the Sword Coast of the pirates that have plagued the area for so long.
This is Bulwark, my Warforged Paladin of Erathis.
He's got plate armour, a longsword, a heavy shield and a vanilla holy symbol.
Bulwark was forged several hundred years ago using lost techniques that have never been recovered. His skin functions as its own armour, unlike most warforged, who wear it over their bodies. His sword and shield are literally built into him, parts of his very being.
At creation, Bulwark was blessed by a forgepriest of Erathis, and a mark of his god was engraved into his chest. It shines with light when Bulwark uses his holy powers.
Human Fighter, pure and simple, ended up level 8, with some of the best naturally rolled stats I've ever had to this day (18/89 str, 16 dex, 18 con, 16 int, 15 wis, 14 cha, 15 per, 16 com)
Bob possesses one of the most powerful legendary items in our homebrew, Bob's Stick. Bob's Stick is an enchanted twig, passed down through untold generations to heroes, great and small. Bob's Stick always leads you where you need to go. This doesn't mean that you'll find that necromancer who turned the village into mindless zombies that you've been tasked with eliminating, or lead you to the greatest dragon hoarde imaginable, or point the way to the head of an evil cult bent on worldwide destruction. It just leads you where you NEED to go.
Bob also had a penchant for swords. He collected them, actually. At one point in time, Bob owned and regularly used 9 different bastard swords, of varying quality and workmanship. His favorite was an ancient human worked one that came from a dragon's hoarde (+2 Bastard sword ftw, yo). Even though two of Bob's teammates were slain with it in his hands, it in turn slew many of his enemies (I pretty much rolled only 1's or 20's when I had that sword...so I would friendly fire for 20 damage and impale a halfling teammate halfway across the room, go pick it up, then double crit the BAMF in front of me and save the day...they made me get a new sword after the 2nd team kill on a fumble)
(Ok, in all seriousness about the stick, its what Bob used when people would argue about where to go or what to do. He would flip the stick around in the air, and whatever direction it was pointing *yes i realize sticks have 2 ends* was where we would go, immediately. If anyone questioned the stick, Bob had a way of getting them to comply with the will of the gods. Bob was very intelligent, but he wasn't smart. In fact, he was quite simple, and his understanding of things broke down into its simplest parts. The party didn't know what to do, or was divided, and after the third time it led him out of danger, he was convinced he had been given a great and powerful gift. As such, everyone knew to comply with Bob when he said to follow the Stick, after he nearly broke the elf in half for arguing. My own reward for my RP in those situations was rewarded with a 'compass' that always led us in the general direction of something of interest.)
Human Storm Sorcerer
Adamantine Rod, Runic Dagger, Drowmesh of Clensing, various other items
This was a character I used for a Greek Mythology campaign. Menelaos served under Odysseus's banner at the battle of Troy as a scout, given his renown as an explorer during that time. On their way back, the storm that caused Odysseus's ship to be washed awreck had an effect on Menelaos; while making repairs to the ship, he was struck by lightning. It was a miracle he survived.
He managed to find a way off the island on his own, and came across the Cyclopes. There, he snuck in and stole two of Zeus's lightning bolts, to which he fashioned tools from (the rod and dagger). When he touched those bolts, he felt the power of Zeus flow through him, and since then, he was able to throw lightning like the king of gods.
It did have a drawback, though; since the lightning strike, he developed a split personality. He acted paranoid and twitchy when he was in a regular setting, but in combat, he felt normal.
Race: Human
Class: Warlock
Armor and Weapons: he used to have armor, but a slime ate it. for a while he used a bindle as a weapon, then he got a +1 club, but he was never in melee so he had a +1 bindle. he then got a big magic mace. still never went in melee.
Magical Items: too many to name off the top of my head. i should scan the sheet...
Short Story about Background:
wow... alright in point form..
-he was born poor on a little island full of beggars, hated his life
-got magic powers, got a little power crazy, raw magical energy kills. who knew it was so much fun?
-found out adventuring lets him kill people without the police on his back. heck they paid him to do it.
-got hired by some rich lady to get her boat back. nearly got killed by what is now known as a "boat spider". the oxybe spider's curse strikes another character. sigh. character gets arachnophobia. also, a monkey.
-bandits in town making trouble in the neighborhood, rich lady gets scared. rich lady's brother is running this scam. party murders local thieve's guild. i get a shiny glamoured armor, huzza!
-pirates attack town this time. we burn down the boat. also pirates. oops, GM said we needed that boat.
-we're hired by rich lady to escort her on a 3 hour tour 6 month journey to some outpost in the sea of horrible dangers.
-we got a boat! we got a boat! take a good hard look at our moderately size boat!
-stuff happens. killer seaweed, sea monsters & our boat gets capsized. somewhere along the route we got a cape that turns us into fishmen. i swim underwater and get some wine from the wreckage. also, we help salvage what we can and rescue people and stuff.
-we treck across the jungle and meet up with crazy bird monsters, gargoyles and ugly ape demons. at least no stirges. i get a new +1 club bindle
-THE BOAT SPIDERS ARE NATIVE TO THE AREA! BLARAGGGGRAGLARAG!.
-we find 2 temples, one older then the other and save a halfling from being barbecued.
-we find the natives and the bard tells them stories. they somehow like the talkative chump and get us across to the rich lady's island.
-rich lady's island only slightly better then native people's island in that there are no boat spiders. mostly politics and pirate invasions.
-we go back to Boat Spider Jungle and start gathering an arms cache of an ancient race of furries, the help of some weird jungle midgets and the local natives. we meet some weird winged snake. it didn't seem to like me, but it did give the ranger a neat bow.
-wizard ports us to town, we sell about 2 dozen bacers of armor, split the cash several ways. i get a new mace that helps my magic go from "pew pew pew" to "BREEEEEEOW". overall, i'm happy
-we fend off a small fleet of pirates & learn of their base's location. turns out they stole our rich lady during the fight. F**K! my meal ticket! turns out it was her brother who kidnapped her.
-i'm loco in la cabesa, but i'm not suicidal. i tap in some tree-huggin dwarf with a pet bear. a big old hurricane happens while i'm "protecting" the town. and by protecting i mean getting blitzed off my arse with that wine i "salvaged".
-turns out some demon prince is trying to take over the world. bumm- wait... he's trying to destroy the world? my fav stuff is here. 'aight. now it's personal.
-we outfit our boat with magic and it brings us to another plane. i leave my monkey back with rich lady's handhobbitlady. i don't pretend to know how the magic works more then i pretend to know about how dwarves reproduce.
-we meet up with some smexy babe. turns out she's some few hundreds of years old. i'd still hit that. she tells us that we can get some of the other demon lords to help beat up that prince of demons who's trying to off my fav plane of existance
-we go to this world full of undead and royally trounce the Fat Bastard's henchmen. he laughs. we laugh. we promise him some demon on demon action. he agrees.
-we go to some prison and start beating heads for information. i meet up with a lich. great guy, hates people in general almost as much as i do. i agree to find his magic box if he turns me undead. fun times.
-we kill rich lady's brother. dude is whacked in the head BTW. we get the information we need
-we go see some magic god-elves about a dragon that's been bugging them. did you know ancient dragon is tough and stringy? our dwarf says that the anvil in the dragon's horde is some sort of artifact. we give it to the god-dwarves and we end up getting both elves and dwarves to help us out.
-we go meet up with the demon queen of sluts succubi. we nab one of her runaway prostitues or something and since she's tired of pulling tricks for favors of the demon prince, she agrees to help us out. even gives yours truly her blessing. yeah she can take control of my body, but have you seen her? hatcha-cha... she can dominate my person any day of the week. reow, i think i've found religion!
-some ancient squid-demon gets the new title of "prince of demons". succubi queen kinda pissed that i was unable to gain the crown for myself and removes her blessing.
-return magic box to my lich buddy, decline offer of lichdom but help him settle in material plane
-return to material plane, buy out a small island in the hometown, build myself a villa, library & research lab. begin gathering potential cultists for my new mistress.
can't complain, all said and done!
Race - Orc
Class - Fighter (Battlerager Vigor Talent)
Appearance: You see an orc that seems to have stepped straight out of any one of the many cautionary tales about the savage orcs. He seems unable to stand up straight. His posture stoops forward. He is a hulk, a mass of tough, solid meat. His muscles, while thick and plentiful, lack the clear definition of a youth. Under his thick, pronounced brow, sharp eyes glare from deeply sunk sockets. His greenish-gray skin is toughened to a leathery hide, and bristly white hairs jut out of his chin. The left side of this orc's face is paralyzed as a result of an old injury. As such, he always appears to be scowling. His speech is impeded by the paralysis, making most of his words mumbled. He wears an old, ill-kept set of scale mail with tinges of rust visible where the metallic plates overlap. Two throwing hammers hang in leather loops on his belt. He carries a massive wooden maul in his hands. When he places his full-faced helmet on his head, he loses any apparent intelligence. He is a monstrous hulk; a mass of tough, solid meat encased in tarnished steel.
Background: "I have been a warrior for twice as many years as I was an immature whelp. The first whelps I sired have had whelps of their own, who now turn out whelps of their own. When others of my kind count their battles, I count my wars. My existence has been a ceaseless march across blood-soaked land. Every orc I knew as a youngling has fallen in battle or in treachery. I am not the fastest. I am not the wisest. I am not the strongest. I am not the toughest. Yet I endure when all others have fallen. There is no great secret to my life. I spill more blood than I shed. Much more. In hell, a river flows, quenched with the blood of those who fall by my axe. When I made my first kill, those many years ago, I was just another grunt. I had my axe. I had my lusts. It was all any orc needed to get what he wanted. It was all I needed. It got me everything I wanted. When I made my first kill and returned to my tribe, I was allowed to take a female of my choice. When I survived my first battle, I took my first slave. When I survived my first war, I was one of the elite. I had survived where so many others had fallen. I was strong. I was alive. The dead were weak, and undeserving of life. I lived the life of an orc. I ate when I was hungry. I slept where and when I was tired. I raped my women when it pleased me. I killed. And killed. And killed. It was our way. It was all I knew. Tomorrow did not matter. Tomorrow, I might be dead, so I took all that I wanted when I wanted it. The years dragged on. The endless cycle of wars took their toll. Other orcs fell, but I grew more scars. They died, but I lived. I lived long enough to grow old. When I grew old, I grew tired. When I grew tired, I grew thoughtful. When I grew thoughtful, the haze of my bloodlust began to fade. When the haze faded, I saw all that was around me. My life meant nothing. Today, the other warriors, all younger than me by at least a generation, give me respect because I continue to survive. When I die, they won't care that once I lived. I know this, because I have seen it happen to every warrior who has died before me. It was all so hollow and empty. I saw the oblivion of death waiting ahead of me. Behind me lay a barren waste of a life. I wanted something more. I wanted meaning. I may have wasted every day until now. I don't want my life to be for nothing. If I need to I will die in order to make my life worth something. No one else understood. I tried to explain. They would not listen. They laughed at me. In my youth, I would have cut down any who dared to laugh at me. Instead, I picked up my weapons, and I left them."
Theme Song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=o22eIJDtKho