Would anyone like to critique the backstory I wrote for my Mystic character? Here's the context.
When introduced to the party, they will learn that although he is telepathic he is also mute. When asked why he is a mute or how he got his Mystic powers, he will have no answer. I will have an irl journal that I will write in in character. Eventually, they will discover something else about the Mystic, he cannot read. Every night when he writes in his journal, he makes drawings of the days happenings, and sometimes tries to form letters, but to no avail. He eventually approaches the party with his journal, saying that he has no idea how he got his powers, but he suspects that the very first entry in his journal might help. He sits down to listen to the party read it to him, eyes wide in anticipation of a great and cheerful tale of study and betterment...
[sblock]Lady Sareth’s message took me to quite an unpleasant location today, so much so that I thought a record of the event was necessary.
It was a ways outside town, to a small house in the woods. The door was answered by a tall man with a crooked nose, who wore a small pince-nez in front of beady eyes. He was balding but still had silver hair above his ears that ran around his head. I was able to see that the interior was littered with writings and research, and I caught a glimpse of a strange, alien tentacle, still connected to a-but then the letter was taken and the door closed without so much as a word.
I suspect that I was chosen to deliver this message because Lady Sareth believed I would not question the location or indeed mention it to anyone. She was correct, as distressing as the message was, I need the work, and I’m not going to risk reporting the mysterious recipient.
I am going to need as much money as I can get if I want to be able to finally fulfil my dream of becoming a bard.
After a normal week of deliveries, there has been another letter for the strange man. The house seemed more clattered than before, and I swear that one of the jars inside housed a brain. I hope that whatever strange business is occurring between Lady Sareth and this man will soon come to an end, the house grows more unsettling every time I see it.
Only a few days since the last delivery. The man was expecting me, opening the door before I knocked, this time with his own message to be delivered. He handed me a grimy letter with an equally dirty smile on his face, before slamming the door once more. When I returned to Lady Sareth she opened the letter immediately, a look of fear on her normally calm and stoic face. I started to ask her what the letter said, but was answered with a hard gaze that denied any further questions.
I do not even have a day’s respite from this man now. The only letter I received today was for him, given to me by shaking hands by Lady Sareth. He waited outside his house today, reply in hand and with a wicked grin on his face. I handed him the letter which he then proceeded to rip in two before presenting his own. As he handed me the message he paused briefly and eyed me head to toe before grinning wider and returning to his house. I got only a brief look, but where the mess of papers and samples were before there were bags and crates, he was packing.
Lady Sareth opened the letter immediately, as yesterday, hunched over it facing away from me, before straightening up. I again tried to ask her what the contents were but was interrupted. She would not turn to face me but said in a forced tone that I was done for today, and to return tomorrow as scheduled.
I arrived at the keep as scheduled, but Lady Sareth was not alone. She was accompanied by the strange man from the forest, who watched eagerly as the keep’s servants were marched or carried down into the dungeon. I tried to run but was stopped, and knocked out. I write this from my cell now. For the past several hours I’ve seen the other servants taken one by one out of this area of the dungeon. Each time roughly a half hour passes before ear-splitting screams ring out, followed by silence, then the next prisoner is taken. I’ve noticed that with each proceeding scream, I start to hear it more and more within my mind, not just within my ears. I am the last one now. I hear the heavy footsteps coming my way.
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When introduced to the party, they will learn that although he is telepathic he is also mute. When asked why he is a mute or how he got his Mystic powers, he will have no answer. I will have an irl journal that I will write in in character. Eventually, they will discover something else about the Mystic, he cannot read. Every night when he writes in his journal, he makes drawings of the days happenings, and sometimes tries to form letters, but to no avail. He eventually approaches the party with his journal, saying that he has no idea how he got his powers, but he suspects that the very first entry in his journal might help. He sits down to listen to the party read it to him, eyes wide in anticipation of a great and cheerful tale of study and betterment...
[sblock]Lady Sareth’s message took me to quite an unpleasant location today, so much so that I thought a record of the event was necessary.
It was a ways outside town, to a small house in the woods. The door was answered by a tall man with a crooked nose, who wore a small pince-nez in front of beady eyes. He was balding but still had silver hair above his ears that ran around his head. I was able to see that the interior was littered with writings and research, and I caught a glimpse of a strange, alien tentacle, still connected to a-but then the letter was taken and the door closed without so much as a word.
I suspect that I was chosen to deliver this message because Lady Sareth believed I would not question the location or indeed mention it to anyone. She was correct, as distressing as the message was, I need the work, and I’m not going to risk reporting the mysterious recipient.
I am going to need as much money as I can get if I want to be able to finally fulfil my dream of becoming a bard.
After a normal week of deliveries, there has been another letter for the strange man. The house seemed more clattered than before, and I swear that one of the jars inside housed a brain. I hope that whatever strange business is occurring between Lady Sareth and this man will soon come to an end, the house grows more unsettling every time I see it.
Only a few days since the last delivery. The man was expecting me, opening the door before I knocked, this time with his own message to be delivered. He handed me a grimy letter with an equally dirty smile on his face, before slamming the door once more. When I returned to Lady Sareth she opened the letter immediately, a look of fear on her normally calm and stoic face. I started to ask her what the letter said, but was answered with a hard gaze that denied any further questions.
I do not even have a day’s respite from this man now. The only letter I received today was for him, given to me by shaking hands by Lady Sareth. He waited outside his house today, reply in hand and with a wicked grin on his face. I handed him the letter which he then proceeded to rip in two before presenting his own. As he handed me the message he paused briefly and eyed me head to toe before grinning wider and returning to his house. I got only a brief look, but where the mess of papers and samples were before there were bags and crates, he was packing.
Lady Sareth opened the letter immediately, as yesterday, hunched over it facing away from me, before straightening up. I again tried to ask her what the contents were but was interrupted. She would not turn to face me but said in a forced tone that I was done for today, and to return tomorrow as scheduled.
I arrived at the keep as scheduled, but Lady Sareth was not alone. She was accompanied by the strange man from the forest, who watched eagerly as the keep’s servants were marched or carried down into the dungeon. I tried to run but was stopped, and knocked out. I write this from my cell now. For the past several hours I’ve seen the other servants taken one by one out of this area of the dungeon. Each time roughly a half hour passes before ear-splitting screams ring out, followed by silence, then the next prisoner is taken. I’ve noticed that with each proceeding scream, I start to hear it more and more within my mind, not just within my ears. I am the last one now. I hear the heavy footsteps coming my way.
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