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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sakzilla" data-source="post: 272779" data-attributes="member: 6105">Greetings - as part of a future/ upcoming campaign in the Forgotten Realms, I recently put together the outlines of a character background for an Elven Ranger named Arlee Greenleaf.  We like to develop a bit of back story for characters, and I chose a different approach this time.  Rather than "He is from blah blah blah" I went for a Journal approach.  Any comments are welcome as this was the first time I have tried something like this (and put it out there for the world to see).This is the introduction to his background/story.  He is currently on a ship bound for a trade camp on the penninsula of Chult, having recently signed on with a mercenary company out of Sembia...PrologueHew-Mens.  The very smell of them turns my stomach.  I thought the sea breeze blowing accross the bow of this merchantman would cleanse the air.  But no.  Men.  Hew-men.  Man-kind.  What a contradiction.  Corellon Laretheyon grant me strength.  None of these vermin were even born when that raiding party came intomy village almost 80 years ago.  I will never be free of that time.  Nor would I wish to forget.We heard from a human woodsman that a goblin pack was hunting a Druid and her Unicorn a few valleys over.  Most of his companions had fallen to goblin darts.  Poison!  How could they foul the High Forest like this?  WE must act!  We took off after hasty goodbyes - I had cross words for my young son as he played with a squirrel - Be gentle.  Do not hurt the animal.  Understand the balance that all things bring.  My dear wife had gone to collect mushrooms, singing her way to the freshest patch in the forest.  I did not have a chance to say farewell.  I wouldn't get another one.We trekked off towards the Red Rock, a small valley of red quartz two days away.  We made good time, and quickly found signs of a battle.  Goblins for sure!  There were tracks everywhere.  The men had been in the fight of their lives.  Some did not live.  To the south the tracks went.  Kelrick was our hound - a seasoned Ranger whose mastery of Goblins was famous throughout the forest.  He said it looked like the goblins had been ambushed by men, but there were still some alive at the end of the fight.  They had headed off to the east.  We took up the pursuit, and made good time.  Three days later, we found the body of a goblin - it looked to have been dragged for a great distance.  And bound with a human rope were his arms.  Was the scent and sign we followed planted there? The trail went on, but only human sign remained.  Discussion ensued - do we turn back or proceed.  We wanted to go on, but the elders said enough time had beenspent on this hunt.  One last patrol to secure our flanks.  One last patrol before home.We found the unicorn half a mile to the south.  It died protecting the Druid. She was from our village and everyone knew her - we had grown up to her stories of the forest and balance of nature.  Of the fairness of the wood-Gods.  They were taken down with woodaxes - human weapons.  Hacked to death.  The bodiesabused.  Blood everywhere.  It was sickening.  And too precise an attack for goblins.  The footprints were human.  Men had killed our teacher.  There were two goblins nearby - both hanged and beaten.  Or beaten and hanged.  It was hard to tell at this point.  And unimportant.  We ran.  Ran for our village.  The thoughts of what humans might do....We were tricked into leaving our villageunprotected.  We couldn't show our fears to the patrol elders.  We were adults in our own right and would prove worthy.We smelled the smoke a full day before we reached the village.  Ran and ran we did.  But they were all dead.  Our people slaughtered throughout the village.  The children.  The learned.  The women.  It looked like some men were upon the Elves even before they knew it.  And the arrows.  So many arrows.  The grief was tremendous.  I couldn't believe what they had done to my wife.  My child died cleanly.  But she....suffered more than anyone should.  We flew into a rage.  Over 90 of our people were dead.  The raiders had gotten off with a few women, our horses, and the village centerpiece - a golden chalice blessed by Mielikki herself.  Where was the protector of the forest that day?  Why had this happened?We went after the man-tracks with vengence in our hearts.  But that is a story for another day.....Arlee GreenleafDefender of Corellon LaretheyonBane of Men</blockquote>

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