I'm going to post my stories, and then go back and read other people's later. I'm trying to avoid doing homework, but I shouldn't avoid it that much.
Not the full story, but I can't find the original anywhere at the moment.
Merric Silverhorn: Tiefling Storm Sorcerer Jeweler
[sblock] Merric grew up on the streets of Silva Lapis, running with a street gang as a lookout and pickpocket. One night he broke into the shop of Gregory Handel, the Jeweler and Merchant in charge of the Runic Ring Trading Company. That night changed Merric's life forever.
Inside a newly arrived crate Merric spotted a massive deep blue gem, but once he grasped it lightning arced through him and he blacked out. Master Gregory found him the next morning, arm blackened to the shoulder and the gem fused to his palm. Instead of turning in the young thief Gregory instead took him as an apprentice. Merric's life was given a new purpose, the idea of creating things instead of taking them had never occurred to the 8 year old child. MAster Gregory taught him much, instilled in him a deep respect for the Goddess Waukeen, and helped his burgeoning magic powers granted by the Elemental Gem of Lighting that fused to him.
Years passed, and Merric felt somewhat confined by his home, taking up his tools Merric decided to take up life as a traveling Jeweler for the company. During his travels he joined with an Orcish caravan, learning about the Orcs and how they had turned from the worship of their dead god Gruumsh to the worship of Waukeen. However, Merric also learned of the bias against the divine who had withdrawn from the world and decided to keep his own beliefs to himself when amongst strangers. Later, Merric was overcome with a strange compulsion. He dreamed of a mountain, far away from where he had traveled and he felt it calling to him.
Following this call he met his traveling companions and was inducted into The Guiding Light order, believing it was the will of his Goddess and that he had been chosen to serve her more directly in the world. Once again, his life was completely changed.[/sblock]
Warren "Doublelock" Sinder Raulnor: Gnome Cleric of Life Hermit
[sblock]The Nickname "Doublelock" came from Warren's cautious nature. He would always double check any task he was sent to do, to the point sending him to lock the gate was the same as locking it twice.
When Warren was born, he was set upon a path in life, much like his father before him. It wasn't an exciting life, tending the farm of Symphonica Acres granted to them through his Great-Great-Great Grandfather “Skippy” Jon Jones Sinder Raulnor's bravery and cunning. A simple life of driving “Big Red” or “Blue-no” amongst the crops and driving off the occasional hassle.
That path was altered one morning when he was 14 years old. The family was down at the market, and Warren did not pay as much attention as he should have. A wagonneer, possibly drunk, possibly not used to looking for small gnomish children, ran him over, shattering his leg in several places.
Without magical healing readily available, his family made do with a local doctor, who informed them Warren would likely never walk without a crutch, and possibly not with one either. As he lay in his family's burrow Warren worried, this meant that he would never be the capable of filling the role his family had prepared for him. It meant the one thing he had ever considered doing was now outside his reach. He could not drive the great machines without two working legs to pedal them, and if he could not drive the machines then he could not be in charge of the farm or defend it from attack.
It was three months later when a new path was opened before him. Lady Ellywick “Thornbrush” Waywocket Orla Lopmottin Nackle arrived in their community, she had traveled far in some quest, but she informed the community that she was a healer of great skill, infused with the blessings of the gods, and that she would offer her services to the community while she continued her research as her adventuring days were far enough behind her that she desired more to settle than to seek.
As reports of her miracles reached Warren, he determined to hobble down to her abode and plead for her magic to right his leg. She was kind, but firm, it had been too long since the injury and the bones had set to firmly for her magic to restore him to what he was before. However, there were other ways for her to try and heal him, other techniques which would strengthen muscles and adapt his body to the reality of his leg. In exchange, she simply required that he assist her, and since he could not imagine how much help he could be to his parents, he agreed.
She put him through strenuous physical therapy, taught him the language of the angels, and set him to organizing and editing the massive tomes of notes and journals which she had collected. It turned out that Lady Ellywick was a member of a group calling themselves “The Gumshoes” who believed it was a sacred duty to heal a rift in the community of the gods. Every Gnomish child was aware of the Lords of the Golden Hills, Garl Glittergold and his sparkling wit and keen eye, Old man Segojan Earthcaller who watched over the dead in their Barrows, The Sly Baravar Cloakshadow who mastered illusions and trickery to protect their people and on and on, but Lady Ellywick spoke of rumors, legends of that spoke of the Ladies of the Golden Hills who had vanished without a trace millenia and millenia ago. Most of the clergy either believed these rumors nonsense or worse, since the Lords would give no comment to support or detract from them.
Warren was fascinated, and an eager student for all the teachings Lady Ellywick could provide. As he left behind his crutches, he also left behind any doubts as to his purpose. Lady Ellywick taught him medicine, history, and all of the religious rites and texts no matter how strange or foreign. She taught him that it was the community of the gods which needed to be worshipped, not an individual god, and that in service to that community they must find the Lost Ladies. That it was more than possible that the Lords mourned their sisters, and that the loss of an immortal family could not possibly be measured in the same ways as they could be amongst mortals. She taught him to harness divine magic, she taught he sacred rituals to strengthen the bonds between members of the community, including rites of sacred sex which many found to be strange at best.
Decades passed, Warren grew strong in devotion as well his body and mind. Then, one morning while Lady Ellywick was off tending to a far-off community Warren was struck with a vision.
He stood before a great roaring Hearth. It was filled with light and warmth and happiness that seemed boundless, and he laughed in delight along with the crackling cackle of burning wood. Then he saw a great Sword, lying above the Hearth. A terrible and keen Sword, which crouched like a great cat, watching him with lazy eyes. It meant him no harm, but it was made for violence and slaughter, and such things are chilling even towards those they protect. He lowered his gaze, and saw himself standing upon a great Compass Rose which pointed him straight to the West.
When he came to Warren was ecstatic, for clearly this was a sign from the Ladies. He would find them, or at least the trail which would lead him to them to the West. When Lady Ellywick returned they would set out together, but first he needed to record the vision so that he forgot no detail. Scrambling for quill and paper he accidentally knocked over an old set of fortune cards, and settling upon the page he held was a card depicting himself, clad in armor and with a pack upon his back. The name of the card was destroyed by the passage of time, all that remained was the clear image of himself, alone, on a journey.
So, Warren wrote down his vision, then made a second copy to leave with the letter he left, thanking Lady Ellywick for her hosipitality and generosity. Then, he gathered an old battered set of arms, and his few possessions, and headed westward, the morning sun warming his back as he marched towards destiny. [/sblock]
And my current character:
Haldren Redfen: Half-Orc Fighter Samurai Soldier
[sblock] I suppose the story properly starts with my father, Johnathan Redfen, Sword for hire. He made a decent living as a mercenary adventurer, started when he was 15, or to hear him tell it, from the moment he was born to the blade. Approximately three decades ago, in the plains between the City of Silvery Moon and the dwarven fortress of Mithral Hall, there was a “Peace Tournament” held between the Silver Marches, the Dwarves, and Many-Arrow orcs.
Wanting to put on a good show, one of the local lords hired my father to participate, he’d gained enough renown as a swordsman that the lord figured it wouldn’t be seen as an insult, and he wouldn’t need to send any of his important warriors to go fighting orcs for fun. My father could care less for all that, he cares more about gold and a good challenge, but he always made sure I understood that this was a political move for this guy. Anyways, my father arrived at the tourney grounds, and nearly immediately fell madly in love with this Orc maiden he saw stirring cook pots and butchering a dire boar in the Many-Arrows camp.
I’m told my father is a strange man.
Absolutely besotted with her "emerald beauty" and "raw unchecked strength", he decided he would woo her and earn the tribe’s permission to wed her. Orcs respect strength above all else, and so what had once been a quick cash job turned into my father’s quest for his true love, Rásha of the Many-Arrows. He penned an epic poem of the whole ordeal, from his laying eyes upon her, the blood glistening in her hair, to the mighty warriors he defeated and his eventual fall to the axe of a dwarven warrior, earning only third place in the tournament. It’s gotten him banned from at least three bars and a forest glen, my father’s talents do not extend into the written word, he’s much better with a sword.
Despite all that though, it was enough to earn the tribe’s grudging respect, and my mother did not have any better prospects within the tribe itself. So they headed off for a life together, slaying monsters, earning coin, and eventually settling in Nesmé when I was born. Father found work as a city-guard, the Evermoors are dangerous enough to keep him entertained, and mother runs a sundry stores, leatherworking and turning other bits and pieces of the dead things dragged through the gates into useful things to sell.
It was a good life, this sword was my 7th birthday gift. My father told me when I could wield it properly I would finally be a man. Unfortunately, his definition of “properly” seems to be a bit more complex than most drill sergeants. My axes were a parting gift from my mother, hand-crafting from Troll bones to bring luck and strength when I left to join the army. Must have worked, I ended up a lieutenant before they put me in the reserve corps. First Lieutenant Redfen of Blackwater Company of the Silver Marches, won’t deny the army was good fun. Learned a lot too, about swordsmanship, battle, the difference between a soldier’s “blade” and a noble’s “blade”. Met a lot of good people to top it off, plus as an officer I got this nice Halberd as a bonus.
Blackwater Company was called up to investigate a disturbance in some small village out in the Nether Mountains. We see smoke, find the place under siege by some goblins, with a hob commanding the whole thing. That’s where I picked up this little dagger. I was holding the frontline with Druth, keeping the little buggers off of Caleb while he sniped that poor hob from over 350 ft. I don’t care what that guy says, elf eyes, even half ones, make a difference. Anyways, I’m feeling ready to congratulate the team on a job well down, we’re cleaning up the last bits, when suddenly I’ve got fire shooting through my side like I’ve never felt before. Little bugger was hiding in some crates, Kerick says this dagger had to have knicked a kidney. I payed the thing back and then some, and kept this little blade. Might be cursed with my name for all I know, you can’t risk it with weapons that get that close to sending you to the other side.
Anyways, we served our time, got moved to the reserve units, and I decided that instead of getting fat and lazy like the Commander, I’d head out and make coin as a merc. Maybe make a name for myself.
Bits from when we were constructing a group story
He wouldn't have given any advice or encouragement unless you tried to quit, which seems a little out of character for early Vaalyun.
If you did, he probably would go the anecdote route, while you were doing magic training he would have been going through sword kata's, or maybe switching it up to his axes or halberd after a while. So it would have been something like " My father gave me this sword when I was a small child (pulls out a greatsword the size of himself [6 1/2 foot tall]). Told me that when I could wield it properly I would be a man. Took me a year to lift it and hold it in the ready position. (slowly begins going through simple blocking and striking pattern) Another year and I could swing it twice without dropping it. Before I left to join the army, my father asked me to do this (speeds up the point where the blade barely pauses between strike and defense, a seamless fluid wall of steel. With a final swing he lands a sideways blow, a small strap of leather hanging from the hilt wrapping around his arm). He said 'Good enough for guard duty boy' and then told me I still needed to tighten my grip and shift my balance less between swings. The strap should snap on that final move, like a whip. (Sheathes sword) Commander says I'm one of the best swordsmen he's ever seen. Father still thinks I'm a child struggling to hold my sword. He's right, of course, and the road stretches, disappearing into the distance. When I get there, I'm going to beat him, because that's the point. To be better than they are, then raise your child to be better than you."
Not sure if you read them, but here are the superstitions that I listed on Haldren's character sheet:
Certain weapons old the "name" of a person, those are the weapons most likely to kill you. If a weapon almost kills me, I'll keep myself safe from that weapon by claiming it and carrying it, preventing someone else from using it (This is be difficult with magic weapons claimed by group members, but I figure by the time we get to that point he'll trust the group enough to simply be uncomfortable with it)
When leaving a place to go somewhere dangerous, bury five rocks by the entrance, to help guide you home. Carries a bag of rocks with him for this purposes, in case he can't find any nearby.
Follows a more orcish way of looking at the gods. Before a battle an orc warrior will ask the gods to see his strength and courage, recognize it and bless him for it. A human or elf will instead ask the gods for strength and courage. Haldren figures as long as he is good enough, the gods will notice and bless him instead of him having to go and ask them for assistance.
Then here is a Quick Breakdown of Blackwater Company of the Silver Marches, those still alive at least. No clear idea what most of them are doing now that we broke up and went into the Reserve list.
Druth: Dwarven Fighter, axe and shield, very traditional. Came from Mithral Hall and never gave much reason for why he left home and joined a foreign army. Initially didn’t like Haldren, and really didn’t like being under the command of a “runtling orc”. However, after a few battles and butting heads a few times, Haldren decided to push the issue and challenged Druth to a drinking contest. Haldren drank Druth under the table, and in the way of dwarves that plus his combat skills earned Haldren enough respect to get past their racial enmity. What Druth never found out was that Haldren used an old officer trick to cheat, and was drinking quite a bit less than the dwarf.
Caleb Baker: Half-elf archer, suave ladies man and consumate gambler, at least in his mind. Caleb gets rejected by about half the women he tries to woo and loses at cards way too much. Haldren would seem him enter an establishment with gold, leave with coppers, then tell the guys at camp about how he’d made the barmaids swoon and felt sorry for the poor sods he was playing, so he lost a little more than he should have. Despite all that, Caleb is a damn good shot and was instrumental in killing the Hobgoblin commander during the in the Nether Mountains, a feat which grows with every telling. Good man overall, and likes Haldren well enough as another half-blood.
Kerick of Erend: Field medic and cleric of Kelemvor. I haven’t decided on Kerick’s race but I’m saying male. Kerick isn’t a coward per se, but a pragmatist. He keeps the rest of us breathing and on this side of the Veil, doesn’t make sense for him to be charging the line like Haldren and Druth. Very devout, and dour because of it. Joined the army because of duty, followed orders because of duty, is in an arranged marriage because of duty. Came from money, but didn’t care about it, all that mattered was doing what was expected. Good doctor and medic though, even if he had to ask if we wanted to be saved, because religion.
Commander: The Commander is human, probably a guy, and has moved from the battlefield to a cushy position in advising and training. An older career soldier whose best years are behind him and wants to just live out his days, but can’t quite bring himself to leave the army that he’s always known.
Bri Thorngauge: Halfling Scout, easy enough to get along with, until you crossed her, then she showed a mean streak that was a bit legendary in the Company. Once Caleb made the mistake of calling her a “dainty little lady” he found all sorts of unpleasant prickly, itchy, and poisonous things in his bedroll for the next 4 months until he finally caved. They’d taken turns keeping watch for her sneaking over to his stuff, no one ever caught her.
Some of the missions we went on and other misc.:
Defeating that goblin warband in the Nether Mountains. Probably one of their most dangerous and harrowing fights.
Fighting the “Skum Raiders” in the Evermoore swamps. A band of kobold and lizardfolk pirates that were causing problems. Haldren kept their flag, which is a dragon skull and crossbones, as a souvenir because they avoided the company for 6 weeks of raiding. This is probably also where they got the moniker “Blackwater Company” because most of the other teams gave up pursuit, we didn’t, we crawled through the muck for weeks to complete our mission.
We already established that we escorted Solfiamma’s at least once, before Vaalyun met Erebus. Possibly once after that as well.
Haldren, as an officer, would have had to track down the sons and daughters of nobility who joined the army, and then later deserted or abandoned their post. He’s had experience with angry noble parents, and spoiled kids. He’s also seen a few of them cracking under the pressures of a title or heritage, so he knows they aren’t all bad, but you still don’t want to anger any of them if you can avoid it. Too much trouble, as he found out.
A lot of missions to track down and capture or kill bandit groups, and break up bandit camps. You know, I like the idea that there was one individual who kept getting away. A sort of bandit rival for the Blackwater Company. Let’s say they went under the moniker “The Wolf”, the company would hear about their activity, track them down, bust in, but only find low-level, expendable mooks, never the core group which would eventually reform. I imagine a form of respect would develop between them. To pre-empt a cliché, let’s not make Wolf secretly be Bri or one of the other members of the Black water company. I think that would be a little hoakey.
Probably had boring jobs like man this toll road, drive off this ogre, guard this merchant, deliver this package. All the normal stuff.
And then, because I want to have a story of a big battle, where they would have called up a lot of different groups, Blackwater and a few other companies had to clear an Ankheg nest infestation which had destroyed a small village. It was a brutal, terrifying job. Lot of people died. Ended in victory and earned them 2 months off though, as well as comp pay that led to quite a few drunken parties in the days that followed.
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I have a few other than these, but these have been my 5e characters of the last 4 or 5 years.