NEW PLAYERS BACKGROUND
I've got two new players joining my Cimmerian campaign. They're playing brothers, Foilloch (Foil-lock) and Huogh (Huff), born within a year apart. I'm working them into the existing story, and below is the some background I sent them.
We're big roleplayers in my game. I disslike slap-bang-let's-go backgrounds. We like characters with a lot of depth. I want to imagine real people when we play--not game pieces.
Here's what I sent my new players to give them a starting point to grow their characters.
YOUR MOTHER, YOUR FATHER, AND YOUR SPEAR
Your mother? Her name is
Nahn. She's a weaver--the best cloth maker the clan has seen. Other women will knit the basics for themselves and their families, but Nahn's stuff is superior. It lasts longer, looks better, holds a dye better, than the product of any other clansman. Weaving is a painstaking, time consuming process. Thus, there is a strong market among the clansmen for durable, well-made cloth. The few times Nahn has been with surplus, some of her wares have been traded outside the village, not only to the clansmen living in the outlying homesteads but also on the occasions when the Blue Fox make trade with other clans--which seems to be happening more and more of late.
This is how your mother has supported you your entire life. Though no person or family in the clan can be considered "wealthy", you've never not had a heavy blanket in the winter. Nahn has always traded enough to keep food in your belly. And, you've always had the finest kilts and tunics.
You remember little about your father. He died when you were quite young. What you know about him is what people have told you. He was called
Deh (Day), and he was a Grath Far Hunter. Far Hunters make long journeys past the border of clan territory. They are scouts, bringing back with them not only the results of their hunt but information about herd migrations, news from other clans, and alerts of danger. The kind of men that become Far Hunters are typically solitary and taciturn but exceptional woodsmen who enjoy long periods alone in the wilderness. You've been told that your father was just such a man. When the Separation happened between the clans, Deh sided with the Foxmen. Some say he did this soley out of love--love for your mother.
It is a great love, people have said, that Deh had for Nahn. You've been told that your father loved your mother in the strongest, deepest way. He was a proud man, your father, and he could never quite accept that Nahn did not return the same type of love. Nahn cared for your father, yes. But, she never agreed to be his. Openly, she knew other men when Deh was away. There is no shame in this. It's the Cimmerian way. Nahn is an individual clansman, capable of living her own way, though when Deh was under her roof, she saw no other, out of respect for him.
You were young, and you were used to not seeing Deh for seasons at a time. For you, Deh left one morning before dawn, like he always did. It was a long time before you realized that he was never coming back.
Your father left you nothing but his spare equipment he kept in your mother's hut: a weapon and armor stand that held two hunting spears, some belts, and three or four smelly kill sacks. One morning you passed the stand and noticed both the spears were missing. Outside, you found your mother with Eanbotha. There were two other men your mother favored besides your father, Griffe, the shepherd, who died before you were born during the Separation, and Ean (EE-an, like "Ian").
Ean is a great warrior of the Separation. He helped to found the Blue Fox clan, and, indeed, Eanbotha is a Duncohr. His father is the smith that moved from the Grath village to establish your village, Seven Stones Ridge. His brother, Finn, is the clan Chieftain. And, Ean, himself, has become the War Chief for the Blue Foxmen.
At your approach, you saw your mother smile, but she said nothing. She deferred to Ean. You could always tell how much affection she had for the great War Chief, and sometimes you would wonder if she looked the same way when your father was around. You were so young, you can't remember.
Ean stood, gripping your father's spears, one in each hand. You looked at your brother as the giant of a man spoke, "Over here. C'mon. Today, you learn something."
Your mother watched as you followed Ean out in front of the hut to a space clear of trees or rock.
"You always, always carry more than one weapon," came the booming voice, and you saw Ean emphasize the weapons in each hand. "Always."
He hefted his right hand like he was testing the weapon's weight and balance, then, in a flash, he lifted the weapon over his shoulder, almost too high for you to see, and threw the spear with such force that you heard an audible crack when the spear pierced the bark of a nearby tree. "It can be a long distance weapon," he said, "With it, you can hunt and feed yourself, or you can use it for war. With a sword, you can only use it for war."
With the other spear, Ean gripped its shaft and held out his hand, letting you imagine the weapon if it was longer. "See the reach? With a long weapon, you can attack out to about ten paces. With good battlefield footwork, you can keep your foe from getting at you--not allowing him inside your guard."
The the warrior gripped the spear with both hands, tucked it close to his hip, and ran toward a tree. He held the tip low, the spear at an angle, and rammed it through the bark into the dense wood, sinking the point into the trunk by a finger length. He stepped back, the weapon sticking from the tree at the height of his knee. "With a good quality weapon, you can lodge your spear in the tree or a fence." Putting his foot over the spear point where it pierced the tree, Ean lifted himself almost three feet off the ground. "It will help you climb, jump, or see over obstacles."
After each lesson, the War Chief would look at you and your brother, pausing, making eye contact with you, searching your face to make sure that you understood his words. Cimmerians did not take war lightly. This was serious business. Quite serious.
When he tugged the spear from the tree, he calmly walked back towards you and your brother. He exaggerated his movements, leaning a lot of weight on the spear that he now used to support himself. "Your spear can be your walking stick. And, if you practice, I've known some spearmen so good that they use their spears to vault at their enemies, knocking the enemy down, gaining advantage earliest in combat, killing a prone foe before a single counter stroke is attempted. The same move I've seen by those practiced to hop over low obstacles."
Then the Cimmerian raised the spear high and shoved it into the ground in front of him. He then crouched and unraveled a strip of leather from his shin. Rising, he tied the leather to the spear's shaft. The spear stood in the ground before you, the leather strip dripping from it like a thin banner. "You can use your spear as a signal to warn your clansmen that may be following up behind you."
At this point, a sound broke from Huogh's mouth. It's the first thing either boy said since stepping out of the hut this morning. "Why not just tie the cloth onto a tree or bush?"
Eanbotha looked at Huogh sternly, without blinking, as if studying him. "Yes," yes, he said, finally smiling, "You can do that, too."
A laugh came from the edge of this training ground. It was your mother. When you looked, she smiled and quickly put her hand over her mouth as if to apologize for interrupting the training. But, you could see in her eyes that she was proud of you. There stood your mother, watching her boys learn the ways of men for the first time.
Ean gave her a look that would quash an further interruption then strode over to his previous seat to pick up his huge two-handed war sword. Calmly, he walked to the tree where he had thrown the first spear, then proceeded to demolish the side of the tree in just a few strokes. Bark and wood chips exploded from the tree with his every swing. When he was done, he stood back, and you could do nothing but imagine how a man would look after enduring that onslaught. The tree is much sturdier than a man.
"Cimmerians used to favor the spear," Ean said, holding up his great sword for you and your brother to see. "But, your clansmen now have the secret of steel." He paused and took more time to look at you, then your brother, without saying another word. Then, he said, "The sword...the SWORD is a man's weapon. And a spear? A spear is no match for a good yard of steel. First, you will master the spear. Then, we will move on to other weapons until you know...YOU KNOW...that you can obliterate your opponent with anything. A rock. A tree limb. A jagged edge of a clay pot. Or, even your bare hands."
"As for now," he continued, "You don't need to obliterate your opponent's body. You don't have the strength. Not yet. You only need to down him." Pulling the spear from the tree and holding it up for both you and your brother to see, he said,
"You can kill with only a single puncture."
"Part of being a man, " Ean continued, "is taking care of yourself, your family, and your clan. Obtaining a good quality weapon is one of the first challenges of manhood."
He took one spear and placed it in your hands. Then, he did the same with the other for your brother.
"Today, you've just conquered that first challenge."
You looked at your brother, who was already staring back at you, both of you standing there with your father's weapons in your hands.
"In a few years, you will run the Ras Croi and begin the clan's training to become warriors. But, today, you start training with me. When you see twelve years, you'll be more than ready to take on the challenges that the others will be facing for the first time. So, come closer, and let me show you...."