Character Backgrounds.   Posted by GM Dana.Group: 0
GM Dana
 GM, 3 posts
 Your Host
Sat 13 Aug 2016
at 02:03
Character Backgrounds
Writing up a character backstory is strongly encouraged - the more I know, the more I'll be able to find places to tie it into the game. Use whatever format you want!
Dwead Piwate Meggers
 player, 2 posts
Fri 19 Aug 2016
at 02:12
Character Backgrounds
In reply to GM Dana (msg # 1):

Tesni the Field Mouse

Travel some ways upriver from the city of Artume, and you will find yourself in, or more likely, passing through, the strangely named village of Clouds-on-the-Sellen. Strange, until you notice the white, cloud-like shapes, which dot the rolling hills and make up the village's livelihood- sheep. The villagers, predominantly human, though there are some half-elven and gnomish families among them, value their flocks for their wool, as well as the milk and cheese they produce, but in times of plenty, it is not unknown for them to contribute to the Kingdom's tradition of fine hides and leather, and in times of want, that a few sheep may be culled for the mutton.

This village, a dot on the map, if it is on the map at all, is the home village of Tesni, called The Field Mouse. She was not born there, but rather discovered, by a pair of young shepherds. (Shepherding, unlike driving cattle, is children's work. Adults tend the crops, care for the home, and take charge of shearing and lambing.) Drawn by the barking of their dog, they had expected to find one of their charges in distress. Instead, they found a baby, wrapped in rags and crying pitifully.

The elder of the two, a boy of ten named Ellery, fashioned a sling out of his shirt, and sent his sister Bronwen running for home with the news of their discovery. Knowing that he could not leave his flock, but being the second of five, also knowing how frequently babies need to eat, he did what he could to care for the infant. He remembered how, when their mother had been ill after the birth of his youngest brother, they had fed him using a rag and sheep's milk, he did his best to do the same, dipping the ends of his shirt in the skin of sheep's milk that he had been carrying. By the time Bronwen returned with help, it was clear that there was only one family Ellery was going to allow the child to be adopted by.

If his parents suspected anything about their new daughter's origins, they said nothing. At least, not then.

Growing up, no pretense was made about Tesni being adopted, nor could there be; well apart from the fact that the story of her discovery was the most interesting thing that had happened in the village in years, she looked nothing like the rest of her family. Where her parents and siblings were variations on tall, blonde, freckled and clearly human, Tesni was small and dark-haired, with pale skin and pointed ears. It wasn’t her looks, but rather her instincts that set her apart. Precocious and charming at rest, but with a ferocity that bordered on feral in a fight, using claw-like fingers nearly as often as her shepherd’s crook as she defended her younger siblings or her flock.

And then finally, the call.

It began in her twelfth summer – a whisper at the edges of her hearing, calling her out into the hills; a dark voice in dreams, speaking words she didn’t understand, but somehow knew. “Come to me. Come home to me.” She kept it hidden for a time, did her best to ignore the song, but when two of her siblings found her wandering the pastures in a trance in the dead of night, the truth came out. She confessed to their parents in tears.

Recognizing that their daughter’s affliction was beyond their means to heal, they sought a cure from the clerics of Milani at the monastery of Everbloom. The curse, however, was not one that could be broken from without. If broken at all, it must be broken from within. So Tesni stayed, trained and studied, first, as an initiate, then later, as a monk.

A commoner in a land that is not kind to commoners, Tesni’s loyalties lie with the people. She takes Gralton’s poaching of Artume’s mercenaries, and Regent Waike’s unlawful and unfair rule both seriously, and personally, and has set out to do her part in restoring her homeland to its former prosperity.

This message was last edited by the player at 23:34, Fri 19 Aug 2016.

GM Dana
 GM, 6 posts
 Your Host
Sat 27 Aug 2016
at 01:16
Character Backgrounds
In reply to Dwead Piwate Meggers (msg # 2):

I never mentioned that I love this... but I do! It came out great.
Dwead Piwate Meggers
 player, 7 posts
Tue 30 Aug 2016
at 11:21
Character Backgrounds
In reply to GM Dana (msg # 3):

Oh. Well, thank you. :)
MrMonkeyToes
 player, 1 post
Tue 30 Aug 2016
at 15:03
Character Backgrounds
Kurtz Matthias Wolfgang

Sergeant Handgunner of the Powder Horns Free Company

A tall, soft-spoken man with an infectious smile, Kurtz Wolfgang is a gun-toting mercenary in his early thirties. He sports short-cropped blonde hair and a carefully managed combination of twirled-moustache, patch, and chops. This tidiness is offset by an array of scars that perpetually hinder his stylings, with a handful directly interrupting his hairline. The scars continue across his frame with a collection of old burns centered at his hands. Kurtz is a friendly enough sort, provided one does not enkindle his temper. Happy to entertain company, and eager to ramble off stories, it is easy to forget that this is a man who’s not above pillaging and killing. To be fair, he does not savor death and destruction, but it is his profession and proficiency. This is a man that arms himself with fire and sword to seize a better future for him and his.

Born to a dead mother and a noble line that had not seen an acre of land in many generations, Kurtz could only barely pass as a man of higher birth. Family debts weighed heavy on his childhood, further worsened by his father’s crackpot schemes to clear the debts of old and reclaim their lost estate. What fondness he has for his childhood is entirely centered upon his older sister, Leonie. In an attempt to clear the bulk of their debts, their father married Leonie off to a well-to-do merchant. The merchant was content to absorb their debt in exchange for the ability to claim noble titles. However, this did not halt their father from continuing in his plot to regain the family estate, which led to entirely new debts. With the one person in the household he cared for sent off and away, Kurtz fled.

Thus, a young Wolfgang found himself in the company of mercenaries. It seemed like the perfect way to distance himself while also deliberately dirtying his family’s reputation further, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t also considered the romantic appeal of it. As chance would have it, Kurtz wound up signing on for a tour with a free company called the Powder Horns. Through extensive and exacting trade agreements, the Powder Horns established a line to the craftsmen of Alkenstar. Via their agreements, the Powder Horns are able to field a surprising quantity of firearms rarely seen so far north. This enables the Powder Horns to deploy as Shot and Pike units. Additionally, they favor travel by sea and typically act as marines. True to their name, each member carries a powder horn regardless of whether or not they are actually gunmen. The horns have additional purpose as means of displaying rank and unit, and are often adorned with the owner’s name, faith and preferred method of burial, campaign markings and honors, and simply decorative images.

The powder Horns are a flamboyant bunch, dressed up as brightly and outrageously as one can be. In their disorder and mismatched clothes, there was a semblance of a uniform; the mercenaries all adorned themselves along certain lines of fashion. Puffy slashed doublets, alternating and contrasting color patterns, wildly feathered hats, and meticulously groomed facial hair established a surprising level of conformity within the ranks. This extended to the women too, for all were welcome within the ranks, and all were expected to follow the dress code. In regards to the facial hair, women without would simply pencil in moustaches of the appropriate curliness or otherwise braid their locks to mimic a beard. Kurtz was no exception to this rule and fully embraced the wild fashions of the company, and is particularly fond (and protective) of his large, feathered beret.

Wolfgang campaigned with the company for roughly a decade. In his adventures, he amassed both experience and wealth. After one particularly profitable plundering of a wealthy city, Kurtz made moves to take an early retirement. He could not have picked a worse time. No sooner than he had invested his funds to set up a steady income for the rest of his days, he received notice that his father had passed away with an excruciating debt left to settle. It did not take long for the debtors to sniff out and seize his assets, leaving a furious Kurtz penniless. With his retirement cut short, he reenlisted with the Powder Horns and carried on.

During the next leg of his journey, he came into the company of his favorite traveling partner: Ser Krumpf. This righteous and noble knight of impeccable birth is, in truth, a stray cat Kurtz fed one too many times. Ser Krumpf has grown quite fond of his human companion and is never too far away. The pair have recently taken leave from the Powder Horns to enjoy a well-deserved vacation. Despite the aim of relaxation, Kurtz is keen to refill his coffers and continues to keep an eye out for profitable contracts.

This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

Starry
 player, 3 posts
Thu 1 Sep 2016
at 17:05
Character Backgrounds
You’d be easily forgiven for not seeing her.  Halflings are small and easily overlooked and if you take to a life where stealth is often of the essence this is doubly true.

The Halfling who calls herself Echo claims to hail from ‘nowhere in particular, you know here and there’ but very few spring into existence fully formed. Whilst not ‘rich’ by any means Aitcha’s childhood was a largely happy one with caring parents however she had little intention of remaining in such a quiet life, even if it would’ve been steady and safe as the inn always had a steady stream of travellers that would stop in the ‘town’ that was to some extent really just an over-glorified hamlet on route to other, better places.  Seemingly born with a silver tongue and a bright imagination she found herself easily captivated and even distracted by her own mind and doubly so by tales of fantasy and would often sit enraptured by the tales of visitors and would question them endlessly about the world at large.

On one fateful day, when Aitcha had not long turned thirteen a troupe of entertainers came through the small settlement, on their way to bigger and brighter things. And well whilst they were there they paid well, were friendly, caused minimal brawls and were generally good guests. Not to mention they provided entertainment to the residents of the village. Aitcha of course was enchanted, eagerly listening to their wild tales, watching their performances with glee and wonder. Her fate was seemingly sealed when she approached the troupe leader after one performance and pointed out she had seen how they had pulled off a trick, she saw through the ‘magic’ to the sleights of hands and invisible wires however this did not damper her enthusiasm rather fuelled it, wishing to learn how they did that.

So she did what any young person yearning adventure and fame did, she ran away and joined them. She took to the life readily, relishing in the life of a performer and captivating an audience with her tales and tricks. She developed the persona of Echo, Echo was her and yet not, Echo was brighter, bolder, smarter and everything she wanted to be and after a while it seemed the line between ‘Echo’ and ‘Aitcha the Tavernkeep’s Daughter’ blurred so much she had to wonder if she had ever been Aitcha, or if she was just merely another persona. She did know she was having the time of her life and her heart had been taken by the art.

However, after a while the troupe disbanded and ended up scattering, leaving Echo to her own devices at the age of sixteen. Although working as a solo performer trading tales and frivolities for coin put food in her belly it seemingly wasn’t enough. The glitz was tarnishing and she was too far from, had too little coin and too stubborn to return to her home. However, she found the skills of a performer could aid her in other ways, a sob story, a sweet smile, a distraction, light fingers all led to ample opportunities for coins and other easily overlooked, small, valuable things to enter her pockets. Skilled at spinning stories and acting she found herself able to be anyone and no one at a moment’s notice, easily able to disappear into a crowd as if she’d never been there.

Now at the age of twenty-one she lives  on a metaphorical (and at times, literal) knife edge, living her life largely on the coin and trinkets of other people who are rather careless really and seem to just drop things so they fall into her hand, occasionally fleecing those with a bit more money than sense (usually after a drink or two) with tavern games (hey she’s playing by the rules, they lost the coin fair and square) although she can be talked into working for people if the offer benefits her enough. She has to admit, she enjoys it, it’s a good life, even if her greatest performances now have no audience.

This message was last edited by the player at 17:07, Thu 01 Sept 2016.

Dak-Legacy
 player, 2 posts
Sun 4 Sep 2016
at 00:57
Character Backgrounds
"Oh, I'm sorry.  Were you talking to me?"

Once you've met her you'd never forget her.  Despite being a lady of short stature, Oathara Redchin does little to hide.  She's a talker and a fighter.  As stubborn as any Dwarven lady and not willing to let anything get her down.

The fiery maiden claims to hail from the town of Tymon.  Rolling in one day with a sword on her back and a passion in her heart she challenged some of the local fighters to a contest of strength in order to assert herself as a dominant force and make a name for herself.  She was promptly stomped on by several experienced fighters...

She's never been one to be deterred however, and she claims that one day she'll be the name on everyone lips, from the River Kingdoms and beyond.

Above all else she is a talker, one that will not let the weight of the world get her down.  She'll do anything she can to live free and keep on living, none of this "die well" crap that gets spewed by some of the mercenary companies.

Oathara claims to not know much about her life before the age of 21, she says too much drinking can dull the mind.  She believes that the only one she can believe in is herself.

For this reason she plays her cards close to her chest, not wanting to give out much in the way of personal information.  She'd instead prefer to dazzle with linguistic threads spun masterfully into tall tales and whatever other stories she can fashion about herself.

This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Sun 04 Sept 2016.

Dwead Piwate Meggers
 player, 12 posts
Wed 7 Sep 2016
at 12:20
Character Backgrounds
I must say, I'm giggling madly at the idea of this posse of tiny young ladies and the one human man in his thirties.

He's going to feel so old. And so tall.
Starry
 player, 4 posts
Thu 8 Sep 2016
at 15:22
Re: Character Backgrounds
Dwead Piwate Meggers:
I must say, I'm giggling madly at the idea of this posse of tiny young ladies and the one human man in his thirties.

He's going to feel so old. And so tall.


Well if we need a team dad he can fit the bill?
Dak-Legacy
 player, 3 posts
Thu 8 Sep 2016
at 16:05
Re: Character Backgrounds
I just realized I forgot to include this in her backstory, but Oathara is 42 xD  Does that make her smol team mum, or big smol sister?

I really need to pay more attention to what I write xD

This message was last edited by the player at 16:08, Thu 08 Sept 2016.

MrMonkeyToes
 player, 2 posts
Thu 8 Sep 2016
at 21:59
Re: Character Backgrounds
So just feeling really tall. She's got ten years on him, and he's got ten years on them. We seem to like our decades.
The Nickromancer
 player, 1 post
Fri 16 Sep 2016
at 06:40
Character Backgrounds
In reply to GM Dana (msg # 1):

lol


“And so that’ll be, lessee here, four pounds chicken gizzards, three boar tender--, er, tough loins, a flour sack, mah MeeMaw’s whole rack of spices, ‘nother three pounds of gizzards -nonspecified, and ‘bout fifteen, twenty muck eels, depending on how quick Lil’Pete was with ‘is fishin’ foot.  I reckon that all comes to be about le’ven of them nice gold coins you driftin’ types ‘r so fond of.”

The imperious, tree stumpy mass of muscle and unkempt auburn moustache paused and then, slowly, thoughtfully, rustled.

“Y’all got them coins on ya?”  Another thoughtful rustle.  The shopkeep’s drooping eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance.  “…le’ven coins.  You understand what I’s asking y’for?  Mayhaps you’ve not quite picked up on our here local dialectal method of expression?  Le’ven Coins. Dew. Yew. Git. Me. y’Dip?”

A counter-flash in the eyes squirrelled away above the moustache.  Recognition.  More than that.  Counter-annoyance.  From beneath the whiskers an onslaught of syllables billowed forth.

“Off cuoorse-a Oy understund yuoo my feur prupreetur ooff these feur istebleeshment.  Und thuoogh zees-a preeces mey be-a ixurbeetunt, Oy moost cunffess, zeese is zee only plece-a tu prucoore-a zee guudes Oy reqooure.”

And now it was Slackjaw Tom’s turn to, well, maintain his namesake.

“Ah, whassat you say, drifter?”

Eleven neatly stacked coins thumped down atop the counter.

“Oy said that’s very much a fair deal!  Blessings of Gourm upon you.”

And with that, just as mysteriously as the stranger had billowed in, he departed.  But with a sack of flour and a lot of meat.



Paddling his way back through the murky swamps, Bork Bjork Gourmsjon could only beam at the restraint he was practicing and building up daily.  Back in Tolguth, a dispute over the relative value of chicken gizzards would have easily, perhaps enthusiastically, devolved into a bout of bicep wrestling followed by a beardy brawl.  He knew was truly walking, and occasionally paddling, the divine path Gourm had blessed him to follow.  The further south he traveled, the more Bork felt assured that suddenly selling-off his all material possessions and abandoning all he had ever known and loved had been just what his deity had intended for him to do.  Previously, the God-Tongue had only took him in the deepest moments of berserkergang, when blood spilled thickly upon the snow and Bork Bjork Gourmsjon nearly became one with the dauntless fury that was the Shield Shepherd.  Now he spoke the divine syllables while arguing over MeeMaw’s spice rack!  And no one got hacked up with an axe!

Bork had followed the invisible signs that emboldened his connection to Gourm, across snowfields, over mountains, and now, through the infernally omnipresent mosquito clouds of the River Kingdoms.  Never one to falter in his faith (his God had, after all, possessed Bork’s very vocabulary on occasion), the hulking Northerner was buffeted daily with the imperceptible, divine stepping stones of the godly path lain out before him; go here, heal this family now, turn left at the mighty oak tree, cook eel gumbo and drift through the night, etc.

Despite his familiarity with his divine direction, Bork was still sent reeling when, perusing a Gralton pamphlet for odd jobs and quick coins, the Gourmsjon’s eyes laid upon the investigation at Heggler-on-Sellen.  The Shield Shepherd demanded a personal representative in this matter.  With an excited, indecipherable oath, Bork Bjork took up his oar.

This message was last edited by the player at 06:42, Fri 16 Sept 2016.

Younan The Barbarian
 player, 2 posts
Fri 16 Sep 2016
at 20:05
Character Backgrounds
Shu. This, Squee.

Great Woods find Shu. Shu find Squee.

One day, Shu go to different woods. Trees look funny. No leaf, no moss, no green. People look funny. Very pale, very tall. Everyone happy to see Shu. Yell, Shu, Shu! Shu like New Woods. Shu stay.

Squee, he know me. Shu know him. Fight together. Shu, Squee fight, man give Shu shiny money. Shu small, but Shu strong. Fighters laugh. Say Shu too small. This make Shu angry.

Squee knows, no make Shu angry.

Shu go now. Have big fight.