Tell me about your imaginary friend!

[BigFreekinGoblinoid]

OK, I need some inspiration for a few NPC's, and I thought now would be a great time for a "tell me about your character" thread, as I haven't seen one in a long time.

Yes, your characters are your "imaginary friends". We all have them!

Players, tell us about your current character ( choose one if multiple, or one you would like to play if not playing now ), and not just race/class(es)/level, but let us know what makes them unique. Special backgrounds/events that have helped shape their goals/personality would be interesting to read.

DM's - tell us about an NPC you have used in the past, or that special one you are waiting to introduce to the players.

DM's/Players - pick one!

I'll go first:

Demman "Greenhand" is a old half elf druid that has recently become disillusioned with his circle's innefectual efforts to keep the Blackheart forest protected from deforestation/hunting by the burgeoning human nations. Now that war has broken out, both the Northern and Southern forest borders are being picked clean, despite the best efforts of the druids and their charges.

Desperate to make a difference, Demman has left his circle, and is taking a fast spiral down a path to evil. He has been spreading false rumours amoung travellers of a secret burial land in the heart of the Black, supposedly rich with the funeral spoils of the elven nation that left their homes decades ago. The "secret burial ground" is in fact a thriving communty of hags and their ogre henchmen. Demman ambushes adventurers after their encounters with the covey, and attempts to slay them and take their magic. He is hoping to accumulate enough magic to use against the human interlopers...

 

[Olgar Shiverstone]

Well, he's, like, imaginary ...

 

[loki44]

He doesn't remember who he is (whether this is a temporary state or not is currently unknown). He knows he's naked, and caked in mud, blood, snot and/or other formerly viscous substances that have since dried and are now flaking. He's got a splitting headache and his eyes are bloody razor slits. Oh, good news, the only blood he actually notices is beneath his grimy fingernails. Presumably not his own. His lungs scorched. He can’t remember how much or what he had smoked. At least he's still breathing…..but every putrid gust that escapes his cracked and swollen lips only compound his soul-wracked nausea. The vileness wells up from his very marrow – creeping through the center of his bones to his joints and infecting his gristle. His veins injecting his vitals with some thin, evil fluid that used to be blood. His viscera roiled with bile that forces itself out of his rotting carcass through every orifice. Mephitic gas seeps from his anus that would shame a Pit Fiend. Some rank oily substance oozes from his pores giving his grimy, naked body a greasy sheen. His nose is running and snot mixed with blood encrusts his upper lip. His gullet is steadily filling with bitter excrement that's unfit even for the most heinous bowels. With mighty resolve he sucks up one mighty gasp of his own noxious vaporous stench.

Free at last! Free at last!

He assumes the position and violently prays to the viscous, bilious Gods of the Depths. His retched pleas are promptly answered by Gall the Upsetter, but the sacrifice is dry and meager. Gall the Upsetter turns his back and slowly sets in motion the tinny banging of the gin drums. Gall returns to the Depths leaving only the beating of the drums and an acrid aftertaste in his soul.


OK, I'm a Warhammer fan and I'm itching to get my hands on the new books!