Character Backgrounds
Post you’re Character Backgrounds here!
Key things to remember:
How did he decide to be an adventurer?
How did he acquire his class?
How did he get his starting equipment?
What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him?
What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him?
Does he stay in contact with his family?
(Updated 8/7/2011)
DM_Awesome 
April 4, 2010 at 12:37 am
Example
character name: Marube
In The land of Cressle made up of 4 continents Marube grew up on a small island off the the coast of Voumoris the island is not noted on any maps on the mainland continents and may very well be forgotten by the people of cressle. this Island is known as The Per’noxus Ilse. The people of Per’ Noxus do not travel for there is no need for it is common knowledge to them that Shornaal The fortune god in a minor despute with a lesser god cursed the lands beyond the isle for their sins of barbarism and sins of the flesh. Marube is a monk of the Huis Toe Lot Temple in the village of guurbetch. This temple is the most sought out temple of the Island it is said to hold the knowledge needed to achieve your inner ki and the temple is known also by commoners as The home of Fortune. Marube was an adventurous boy raised by the temple from the age of 7 his father was a poor fisherman in Guurbetch so Marube knew how to sail Marube got bored of a life os solitude and after his father died at sea he inherited his fishing vessel being a monk he had no use of such vessel so considering this was all his father had of personal possesion he used it to leave Per’ Noxus to travel east in search of adventure.
Hows that for ya broseph!
August 5, 2011 at 5:34 am
Ben / Gevurah / Antipaladin
Background, Rough Draft
In some ways, my story began when I heard the Song, the very embodiment of the primal, unnatural needs that have gripped me since my youngest days; sharp as shattered glass, intoxicating as the finest wine, as vital as the heart pulsing behind your ribs. In other ways, it began with the Sword, a thing of blood and fire I never truly wanted, but can no longer live without.
No. No, that’s all wrong. It began with the Order, and the events that brought me to that grand castle’s gates – that is when my life, such as it is, truly began…
–
I cannot recall the name my parents gave me – they died when I was very young. The orphanage called me Ain, ‘nothingness’ in the tongue of our ancestors, but I abandoned that name when I abandoned the Order. For the sake of clarity, I will call myself by the name my sword forged for me: Gevurah.
As you may already know, Koune’s orphanages are geared towards turning orphans and bastards into loyal servants of the state. Some train their charges to become priests. Others are focused on teaching children a craft – tailor, blacksmith, teacher. My home bred soldiers for the state church.
I had one of the finest educations Koune has to offer, and I soaked up every scrap of knowledge my teachers offered me with the eagerness of a frenzon addict. By sixteen, I had learned enough to join the rank and file of the Ordo Osseus, and it is there I first heard the Song.
It was my first real assignment. I was part of a small task force sent to eliminate an extremist ‘cult’ on the fringe of Koune’s southern border. I expected to simply walk in, arrest the ringleader on charges of sedition and heresy, and walk out without fuss. How naïve I was! When we arrived, the villagers were butchering their own children, offering their blood to the daemon powers. The entire town had fallen to corruption, and had to be put to the sword. While my compatriots dealt with the populace, I struck down the foul master of the cult. It was the first time I killed a man, and I still remember it vividly; the tangy, copper smell, the haunted look on the old man’s face as I ran him through, the Song of life and death the blood howled as it poured from his chest.
I remember picking up his weapon without a second thought, and it was then I met the Sword. The power contained within that cold steel was overwhelming; it was as if all the joy I’d felt in my life so far had been purified, condensed, and poured back into me in the space of an instant. It was… beautiful.
I was so caught up in this wondrous, savage bliss that I didn’t even notice my body was moving of it’s own accord until I was shoved to the ground and the Sword – that blessed, holy object – was wrenched away from me. I remember howling with rage and clawing madly at my subduer as my joy was replaced with a horrible rage, but it wasn’t long before something struck me in the temple and all was blackness.
I awakened some time later in a dank, dusty cell. Apparently, my former comrades-in-arms were spreading seditious rumors about our mission; they claimed that I picked up the cult leader’s sword and cut down three of our own! At first, I denied the charges, dismissing them as pure madness, but as the days passed and the haze that had settled over my memory slowly dissipated, I came to see the truth of their words. I had cut down men I knew for years without rhyme or reason, and I didn’t even care. I only wanted to hold the Sword again, to grip that wondrous object between my fingers, to cause destruction for the sake of destruction alone.
Of course, I’m not stupid. I feigned ignorance at my own trial, claiming ignorance of the murders, but the evidence weighed against me; my five brothers-in-arms who still lived spoke out against me, and I was sentenced to death the following sunrise.
The gods themselves must have larger plans for me, for that evening a raiding party from the southern wastes attacked the town where I was imprisoned, causing enough of a distraction for me to slip away unnoticed. Now, I seek the Sword once more, and… why am I telling you this, you ask? Why, my search for the sword has led me to you, sweet thing. Make no mistake – you will NOT leave this room alive – but if you tell me what bastard you sold the sword to, I will make your death clean and quick. Will there it be painful? Oh yes, child. There is always pain…
August 9, 2011 at 1:25 am
A fortune just one cut away
Neph went to all his victims funerals, it was like the end of a chapter, and in days past it was a way to bury all the guilt with the body.Now-and-days it was just part of the procedure, like anything else tedious, but still he felt obligated to at least say thanks. This one had had brought enough coin for a new set of gear and a ride all the way to Koune.
It hadn’t been easy when Neph was a young boy on the streets of Ponarus. (His mother had been a whore) and he a male child doomed to be shipped off to a wizards tower to have gods know what have happen to him. He had seen those broken men on the walls next to the proud Punarin guard. That would not be him. he would not stand, leashed to his “betters,” waiting for the inevitable madness of battle to over take him. Even in his early years he heard the whisper of blood lust call to him. His mother had caught a wasting disease that winter and (the brothel) had forced him out; this had been the last moment of comfort.
Neph was in shock that night. It had all happened so fast; mother had died and the mistress had promptly ousted him into the cold. All he managed to grab were his clothes and his mother’s mirror, a gift from his father, so she had said. As Neph wandered blindly into the back alleys through the storm, he found what would be his new home: a small niche in between two roof tops. He felt safe there as the snow fell, he felt sleep over take him.
The next seven years tempered Neph to the realities of the world: kill or be killed. And he had become quite the killer. Where most were unwilling, Neph had found an outlet for his rage, his hate, and his pain. The look in a targets eye as the knife went in was like looking into the eyes of a familiar lover calling him back to bed.
His first kill had come when that little shit-pike took his mirror. Neph wasn’t as big as him and that would have made a difference had Neph allowed it. Neph waited until he was asleep, then savaged him with a bottle-glass knife. he had screamed but, in the back alleys of Ponarus, it made little difference. Just another voice in the chorus. The next morning they found his body curled up and cold. The guards had blamed it on a wild dog. The church had taken care of the burial. It had been a nice enough ceremony for the child better than the little thief deserved.
Now he was headed to Koune, the pressure to become a wizard was getting way to high. He had another idea: find his father and inherit his family’s business, forcibly. His only clue was the mirror; it was silver, beautiful and had the name “Elm” on it. These were the only clues he had. That and the strange letter from the king, something about a special investigation force, sounded like a solid job while he found his fortune and his father.
August 22, 2011 at 2:10 am
Todd Wolfe / Vorash / Cleric
Background First Draft
In ages past the House of Thay commanded respect, fear, and obedience. They saw the potential for great things and rarely allowed opportunity to go untried. They were cunning, scheming, and a great ally to have in your pocket, if only they wouldn’t seek to replace you…
However, in time even the best of fair-weather allies makes a mistep, and so it was that one of Thay’s political allies succeeded to rulership within the fiefdom of Koune, and his retribution was abrupt and swift. For two hundred years, the progeny of Thay were banished to the inhospitable Callou Mountains, to ilk out an existance within the winds, sleet, snow, and hail… ‘Let your kind exist amidst the relentless elements which you have persisted within our court.’
So it was that Varash grew up within the frozen peaks, a life built on trial and mettle… the servants of old were mere story now, and each of his kin had to break their backs to survive the unrelenting environment, but survive he did. He found calm and serenity amidst the howling winds, and found that humanity had lost its grasp of its own mortality, hiding from the elements behind stone and mortar, starving off cold with roaring firepits… humanity has mistaken weakness for comfort, and Vorash approaches life as one might a hungry bear… cautious of combat, neither welcoming or shying from it.
Seven years ago, word was recieved that the latest of the Koune dynasty had forsaken their contracts and sold off the Thay ancestoral holdings, the clan having been gone for so long that none recalled where they had been, and so Vorash had abandoned the mountainside… he is no longer a noble in name, and had never been raised with noble ideals… set against the world with no purpose but to reshape it to his own will…
September 12, 2011 at 2:48 am
Rob / Mak’dar / Sorcerer
It appeared that his entire life was going to be a series of misfortunes. The product of the union of a orc and a human, he was runty for a half-orc. He was a slave found fit for only the most menial chores.
During his days he worked under the careless eyes of the orcs, which allowed him to take pieces of “worthless” objects from orcish raids such as books. At night he was chained to a post and left alone, there he would study as well as he could. As a child he prayed for freedom to the gods he learned of in those books the orcs threw away. Each year he became less hopeful and finally realized there was no one listening. Yet through those books he learned of the world outside his reality.
One night, during the worst storm Mak’dar had ever seen, came an opportunity he never expected. As he huddled under what cover he could find he could feel the energies of the storm pass over him. Surprisingly he also felt the energy coursing through himself and suddenly lightning began to crackle around his fingers. Tentatively he pointed his hand ad the chain that bound him and with a crack of thunder it was damaged enough to escape.
So he ran as far and as fast as he could. He had a purpose now, no longer would he be kicked around instead he would amass power. No one was his master now and he planned to keep it that way. This power now coursing through him was the key, all he had to do was find ways to expand it.