Need a decent writer to edit my backstory

[HermanTheWize]

IF someone has the time, and you think you have the ability, I would very much appreciate someone edit my short backstory.

OF course I'll give exp for doing it...

but, if you do a great job I will allow you to add one thing to my backstory and I'll use it for my character(as long as it's reasonable).

Thanks for any help anyone can give.


-From a Mathematician/Statistician who isn't that great at writing.



STORY

[sblock]Character: Hexblade/Blade Warlock trying to learn to control his powers.

Human
Dark Brown Hair
Green Eyes
6'1
215

Darian originates from the Vinterlands; most of his days spent on a boat on the great lakes at the top of the Vinterlands Mountains fishing. On his 20th birthday, a foggy evening, Darian was on the last fishing trip of the season. As the day grew darker, the boat started to head in to town.

The waters were calm on the way home...Darian had never seen these waters so calm. He had heard of this happening in old sailor tales, but those were just tales. A loud burst of green light rose out of the water....then all was dark.

Darian woke up the next day(or so he thought) upon the shore. He slowly made his way to town, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. Walking into to town, everyone seemed surprised to see him and murmuring under their breath.

He made his way to the docks to find his crew, surely they were all there waiting. The normal docking spot was empty, the normal inn with his crew was also empty...where was everyone. Lenny, the inn owner came out from behind the bar and seemed amazed at the site of Darian.

After a short conversation...he a had found out his crew was missing, presumed dead, and it had been a month. Becoming emotional, Darian felt an immense anger building inside him...almost being compelled(like scratching an itch). Then it happend, a bright green light exploded from Darians chest and sat the bar on fire and knocking out Lenny.

Darian drug Lenny out and not knowing what to do, then ran to his house. Running down the streets, everyone who saw Darian ran inside their homes. He made it to his house and slammed the door. Darian turned around from his door and saw himself in the mirror...horns protruding from his head, eyes red as a blazing fire and his shirt burned away and green veins pulsing from a large scar on his chest...he packed and left that night for Rasgoria. Before his mom had died, she had talked about a small town in Rasgoria, Meadowfield, and an old friend who lived there...it was the only place he knew to go.[/sblock]

 

[ccs]

Why are you a blade-pact warlock - vs some other flavor?
Why are you an adventurer?

 

[HermanTheWize]

Why are you a blade-pact warlock - vs some other flavor?

Out-Of-Game: Biggest thing, I just wanted to be hexblade/blade.

Story Reason Upfront: He's trying to control these "powers" that are inside him to use for good. He has a hard time controlling the powers, something inside of him compels him to act evil. He has killed a man during a session because he couldn't control himself(the guy was pretty evil though, and wasn't going to change, but he still regrets it).

Story Reason(hasn't told other party members): He wants to find out what did this to him, and he thinks using these powers will help. He wants justice for his old crew-mates.

The backstory explains this part(I left it vague so the DM would have lots of "play room")

Why are you an adventurer?

The character is a genuinely a good guy and wants to help people, but it's mostly out of necessity. There is an old paladin that is helping him learn to control the powers; that Paladin has gone missing and he's trying to find out what happened.

He's also helped his favorite bartender to help clear out a ratman infestation in his cellar, and wanted to help him so he wouldn't have to close down his bar. Also, pest control never came out of the cellar, so he felt he had to help(he knew he could).

He's cleared the name of this man he didn't like; because he knew he was framed and it was the right thing to clear his name when no one else would.

 

[ccs]

Out-Of-Game: Biggest thing, I just wanted to be hexblade/blade.

Story Reason Upfront: He's trying to control these "powers" that are inside him to use for good. He has a hard time controlling the powers, something inside of him compels him to act evil. He has killed a man during a session because he couldn't control himself(the guy was pretty evil though, and wasn't going to change, but he still regrets it).

Story Reason(hasn't told other party members): He wants to find out what did this to him, and he thinks using these powers will help. He wants justice for his old crew-mates.

The backstory explains this part(I left it vague so the DM would have lots of "play room")

Oh I completely understand just wanting to play an ______. I'm a steadfast proponent of that approach & do it all the time. (within whatever boundaries the DM has set of course) I just assumed that was your OOC reason.

I was wondering about the In-Character motivations as to the why. Wich, despite your claims of the backstory explaining it, I still don't see. Just a bit about having a scar on your chest & traveling somewhere. And the stated motivations could apply to any class/sub-class.
I guess if the guy you went to for help was a paladin he might have tried to focus your powers through the tool he was most familiar with?

BTW, what's your patron? Why? And how does this effect Darion? Why did the patron grant him powers?

 

[HermanTheWize]

Oh I completely understand just wanting to play an ______. I'm a steadfast proponent of that approach & do it all the time. (within whatever boundaries the DM has set of course) I just assumed that was your OOC reason.

I was wondering about the In-Character motivations as to the why. Wich, despite your claims of the backstory explaining it, I still don't see. Just a bit about having a scar on your chest & traveling somewhere. And the stated motivations could apply to any class/sub-class.

I guess if the guy you went to for help was a paladin he might have tried to focus your powers through the tool he was most familiar with?

Originally, Darian went to him because he knew that he had fought demons in the past(or at least delt with evil), maybe he could help him out. The reason went from just learning how to control the powers, so he doesn't go insane or kill people, to actually being able to use them for good.

DM did a solid job making this really work; at the start of session 4, the old Paladin revealed he had went through the same thing(he had a scar as well, but no glowing...as if he was cured or at least controlled it completely)

BTW, what's your patron? Why?

Not really a patron per say. More or less he has the powers from what ever happend that night on the boat. There is defiantly somthing inside him, he really desn't know(and I don't know either, letting the DM run with it).

And how does this effect Darion?

It makes him more prone to anger, more feral kind of. During a heated fight, it almost becomes impossible to control...he killed a man becasue of it(becasue he lost control).

Why did the patron grant him powers?

At this point, I don't know....DM probably doesn't fully know either.

 

[texastoast]

Are you looking for someone to help you flesh out your back story, or to take what you've provided and shape it into a more polished narrative?

 

[HermanTheWize]

Are you looking for someone to help you flesh out your back story, or to take what you've provided and shape it into a more polished narrative?

Someone to take my terrible writing and polish it.(I don't want to flesh out the backstory too much, so my DM can fill in blanks as he wants)

But, I was going to allow who ever did help polish it to add something (within reason)

Sent from my SM-G930V using EN World mobile app

 

[texastoast]

In that case I'll take a crack at it. Sounds like a fun project. By the way, your writing is by no means terrible. It's just a little sparse, which is just the other side of the coin from efficient.

It'll take me a little time because I'm out of town for Easter. I'm not calling dibs, by the way, so if anyone else is interested don't let me stop you.

Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G891A using EN World mobile app

 

[HermanTheWize]

In that case I'll take a crack at it. Sounds like a fun project. By the way, your writing is by no means terrible. It's just a little sparse, which is just the other side of the coin from efficient.

It'll take me a little time because I'm out of town for Easter. I'm not calling dibs, by the way, so if anyone else is interested don't let me stop you.

Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G891A using EN World mobile app

I look forward to it, thanks!

 

[texastoast]

Here you go! I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind. I didn't exactly edit what you had posted, because the writing there really wasn't as bad as you seem to think. Instead I embellished it with details and turned it into a narrative. I didn't add anything significant. I gave a few things names that you could freely change if you don't like them or they conflict with what you might already have. (Obviously you can change whatever you want; it's your character's backstory.) Let me know what you think!

[sblock]Darion was looking forward to that night’s celebration. It was the last day of Vinterlands lakes fishing season, and it was his 20th birthday. He and his crewmates were sure to throw a barnburner that night at the Lakefarer’s Tavern when they got back into town.

The air was cool and clear as Darion began reeling in his lines. He smiled as he looked around the deck at his crewmates. These moody sailors and fishermen, fickle as the weather but reliable as the sunrise, were his best friends in the world. The late afternoon sun shone on their backs as they put away the final catch, packed away their gear, and pointed the Vintermaiden back toward the harbor. Darion stood near the prow enjoying the wind in his face, hoping Lenny wouldn’t have to kick them out that night for getting too rowdy.

Suddenly the wind died, and the sails fell slack. As the captain hollered for rowers, Darion looked down at the unnaturally calm waters. He had never seen the lake so quiet. “Still waters kill sailors.” The drunken words of some of the oldtimers back in town ran through Darion’s mind. He had never paid much heed to their fish tales, until now. As he marveled, a green light began to bloom in the depths below the ship. A dark dread bloomed in Darion’s gut along with it.

Darion stood transfixed at the rail of the Vintermaiden watching the green light grow, looking like an enormous emerald escaping an underwater city. Its contours remained indistinguishable, even as it burst from the surface of the lake with a loud roar. The light overwhelmed his senses then, and everything went dark.

The crash of a wave. The grit of wet sand on his face. Squawks -- seagulls. Heat pressing on his parched skin; cool air blowing at his damp hair. Darion blinked his eyes open and squinted against the sun. He could tell he was on the lake shore. It must be the next morning, he thought, confused. He couldn’t remember anything that happened after that immense green light.

Stiffly he picked himself up, brushed the sand from his face, and attempted to take in his surroundings now that his eyes were adjusting to the light. Darion knew the lake shore like back of his sunburnt hand; he followed the shore to the southwest toward the town, the docks, and the Vintermaiden’s berth. He would get some answers from his crewmates about just what happened last night.

It was a sunny morning, but not as warm as Darion expected, and few people were about. He passed a couple children playing near the water, who stared openmouthed at him and kept their distance. Darion figured he must be a rough sight; he felt about like he had the worst hangover of his life. But as he crossed the cobblestones along the edge of town toward the cove that sheltered the harbor, Darion saw older folks acting similarly, people who should have had social graces enough not to stare so openly. He was beginning to worry that something was more wrong than he knew. But he couldn’t focus on the problem; it made his head throb with stabbing pains.

His concern deepened when he reached the Vintermaiden’s berth in the harbor; it was empty. Darion began to stumble-run toward the Lakefarer’s Tavern. Surely some of his mates would be there; they always were. He continued to get concerned looks from the people he passed on the streets, but he ignored them. He didn’t care what they were muttering, he only cared about finding his friends.

Darion threw open door of the Lakefarer’s and nearly fell through, leaning on the doorknob as he surveyed the tavern. Empty table. Another. One person at the bar; don’t recognize him. Those two at the table over there -- no, not his crewmates. Nobody in the tavern was a crewman on the Vintermaiden! It’s morning, they aren’t up yet, he started to think, when he saw Lenny coming out from behind the bar toward him. His eyes were big and his step was determined.

“Darion! Are you ok? Where have you been?” Lenny asked. He carefully positioned himself between Darion and the rest of his customers, carrying himself like someone trying to calm a possibly dangerous animal.

“Lenny! Where is everybody? Are they still sleeping?” asked Darion, trying to push past Lenny. He needed to get to the stairs, up to the rooms where his mates were.

Lenny grabbed Darion by the shoulders, kindly, and Darion turned his focus to Lenny and began to relax. Lenny met his gaze briefly, then looked away. “They’re not here, Darion. Come on, sit down, I’ll get you a drink.”

Lenny led Darion to a seat at the end of the bar. The one other man at the bar was staring at Darion, but a pointed look from Lenny as he was pouring Darion a glass of water sent him scurrying to a table in the far corner. Darion saw none of it. He drank thirstily as Lenny spoke and refilled his glass.

“Darion, I don’t know how to tell you this. They’re not here. None of them. They haven’t been back to town. The Vintermaiden didn’t come to port at the end of the season. We sent out search boats, of course, scoured every inch of the lake shore, but there was no sign of any of them. Any of you! Darion, we, well, we held a sailors’ funeral for all of you. You’re a dead man, Darion!” Lenny chortled a laugh that was also a sob. “What happened? Where have you been for the last month?”

“Month,” breathed Darion. He set down his water glass, but his shaking hand knocked it over, and it rolled off the bar and shattered on the floor. He didn’t even look at it. “Month!? That was last night! … That wasn’t last night? I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!” Darion couldn’t see anything but Lenny. His whole world was what Lenny was telling him. Something happened that night. His friends were all gone. Dead. Dead? He didn’t know! He didn’t know anything! What had happened to him? Why was he so angry? What was happening to him? What was he going to do with all this anger? He had to let it out!

Lenny had backed up a couple steps against the back bar. He looked afraid, and a little sick. Green. No, not sick, there was a green light glowing on him. The same green light like Darion had seen last night -- no, not last night! A month ago! Everyone was gone! Darion screamed; or maybe a scream happened to Darion. With it came an explosion of green fire. Darion didn’t see it, his vision had gone, but he didn’t need to. When his vision returned, he was standing in the middle of the Lakefarer’s tavern, surrounded by flames. He could see Lenny’s body lying on the floor by the end of the bar. Darion had done this. He didn’t know how. He couldn’t do anything like this. But he knew whatever happened to Lenny here was his fault.

Darion ran to Lenny, winding his way among the flames, and dragged him out the front door. He didn’t see any of the other people who had been in the tavern. He didn’t know what had happened to them. He didn’t know anything! Darion turned around and looked down the street. This town was his home, he knew every shop and house; why did it all look alien!? Why was everyone looking at him like a stranger?

He started running, not knowing what else to do, and found himself at the front door of his own house. He rushed in and slammed the door, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the door. Whatever was happening was happening out there. In here everything would be back to normal.

Darion opened his eyes and turned around. He looked at the mirror in the hallway and jumped back against the door, then he fell to his knees and clutched his head.

In the mirror a strange creature knelt, eyes burning red like hot coals; a jagged scar across his bare chest, green veins trailing away from it; the scorched remains of the shirt Darion had been wearing hanging loose about his shoulders; and under each hand upon his head curled a white and red mottled horn. Darion’s mouth fell open as he took in his reflection, then he collapsed to the ground and wept.

When Darion had recovered himself a little bit, he began packing up his most important belongings. Rasgoria. His mother had spoken of Rasgoria before she died. She had an old friend who lived in Meadowfield, a town in Rasgoria. He would find answers there. He had to. Here there were only questions.

Darion hefted his bag on his back and opened the door. He shed a tear for the sailor’s life he was leaving behind. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him, for he knew he would never be back. And he didn’t look back either, so he never saw the sunlight playing on the shards of the broken mirror in his hall.[/sblock]