#dnd character backstory

[ichimakesart]

Havoc in Cloister - Kings’ Origins  The Banquet

End

This is the second part here is the link to the first

Thank you for reading!

This is actualy and older piece, but I still like it very much :)

[alan-p-49]

I dare you to light that lamp post with that firebolt spell of yours

[chaoticincompetent]

Can't sleep, so I've been playing around with a page of my character's backstory comic.

Patience is absolutely fine about getting married in the morning, why do you ask?

[threegoblinart]

We don't talk about "The Owlbear Incident".

My husband and I have dual concept characters in one of our games who've been cursed to be stuck with each other for the last 50 years. While working on backstory we created "The Owlbear Incident", which our characters reference regularly when they're arguing, but have never really explained.

So this is Faevyre and Sillarin after said incident, and they already don't want to talk about it.

And no, I won't tell you more about "The Owlbear Incident"

[kaylee-and-niamh-and-azrael-too]

I’ve taken a break from my astarion x tav piece as I’m up to doing the hair, which I’m having a really hard time with so I’ve decided to put it on the back burner until I get my new iPad in a couple of weeks. In the meantime I’ve been working on my half-baked backup DND character since playing a version of her in BG3 got me invested. I finished her backstory the other night and then decided to draw her for my character sheet. And OMG YOU GUYS, I love her so much. If I didn’t also love my current character heaps too I’d totally just drop her and bring in this one in next session. She’s not perfect, and still unfinished, but I’m pretty happy with how she’s turned out considering she’s purely out of my imagination and only my second attempt at self-teaching this medium of drawing.

Azrael, my 250 year old, chaotic neutral Dhampir Wild Magic Sorcerer.

Backstory below the cut as it's long.

When Azrael’s mum was 8 months pregnant she was attacked on her way home one night. She managed to get away but not without sustaining an injury to her neck. The following morning her husband took her to a healer at their church (Pelor). On the way there Azrael’s mum went into labour. When they arrived the healers took one look at the wound on her neck and her labour and whisked her away. The labour was long and difficult. The High Priest was called in to perform a blessing ritual. Azraels mum died during the ritual. Once Azrael was born her father was brought in to meet her. It was explained to him that his wife had been attacked by a vampire, the ritual to try and cleanse the child had resulted in his wife’s death, and they had to wait and see if the child would even survive, let alone if the ritual had worked. He took one look at his baby girl, pale and death-like, and walked away without a word. He never returned.

Azrael was raised in the churches orphanage. She was never told the circumstances of her birth and abandonment. While growing up Azrael noticed that some of the sisters were quite standoff-ish with her. It was also at about this time that she noticed she had innate magical abilities, but hid this as much as she could as she didn’t want to give even more of her caregivers reason to dislike her.

One night she overheard two sisters talking quite nastily about her and they mentioned something that led her to break into the churches records and there she learned the truth about herself. She also learned that if she were to show any signs of vampirism that she was to be killed. That same night she packed her belongings and left. She was about 12 or 13 years old.

She lived on the streets begging for scraps for the following years. A woman named Heather would be kind to Azrael whenever she saw her, giving her food, some coin or a roof over her head during rough nights. When Azrael was about 17 or 18 years old she realised that she could use her looks to her advantage and began working in an establishment owned by Heather. She quickly became a popular attraction with both men and women due to her delicate and exotic appearance.

One night a client became rough with her and, after going into a blind rage when Azrael refused to become his exclusive companion, attempted to kill her. In the heat of the scuffle Azrael instinctually bit into his neck and drained him completely. Terrified by what had just happened and her own actions she sat frozen in place and that is where Heather found her when she came to investigate the sounds. Shaking in the corner with blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth and a pale body slumped on the floor a few feet from her. Heather helped Azrael get cleaned up and dispose of the body. She came clean to Heather about all she had learned at the orphanage. Heather agreed to help her and together they went about trying to learn more about what Azrael was being neither full vampire, as she could walk in the sun and had a heartbeat, nor full elf.

For years following Azrael continued to sell herself, but would also help Heather out with violent clients, making them disappear and feed her hunger at the same time. Eventually the authorities started getting suspicious of the people that had gone missing and began sniffing around. Heather assisted Azraels escape before they got too close.

Since then Azrael has spent her life travelling from town to town, never staying in one place for too long for fear of getting recognised for what she is. She continues to sell her body for the right amount, whether that be she needs coin or she needs information, or killing monsters for coin. In her journey she has also been trying to learn more about herself and where she came from, hunt the one who did this to her, and find and confront her father.

As she had been suppressing her magical abilities for so long and has now begun to try harnessing them, they have a tendency to burst out in strange and unexpected ways at times.

Azrael still occasionionally travels back to the one place that feels like home and helps Heather, the closest person she has to a mother, out while she’s there.

[elliotofmakinstuff]

I’ve been drawing furiously since saturdays dnd session. My dm was absolutely right i was NOT PREPARED. I was almost hyperventilating, Basil was dissociating. It was great :D

Another characters cousins got married, and we were all invited to the wedding (Garick and Basil were catering lol) and then BASIL RECOGNIZES THE WEDDING OFFICIANT who is like the leader/important figure of a cult for the blood goddess??? and it’s his exgirlfriend who he thought was dead :D and then the rest of the party was kidnapped, leaving Basil panicking and he ran to grab his husband, and then they were also kidnapped

and now we have to stop a war

[vizylyopa]

So I've been doing a game and one of my players is making letters up between his character and his brother from far away. Tell me these aren't the cutest letters ever. Their definitely going to get darker as they go on but with these reflecting the early sessions I love how amazing he did and I wanted to share them with the void.

[chaosbolted]

About

Chiaro was born to a drow family in the Underdark and did not enjoy one moment of it. Cursed with the misfortune of being born male in a matriarchal society, and marked with a visibly fiery difference in hair color, Chiaro was on the receiving end of much ridicule and abuse. After he turned 14, one of his sisters pushed him a little too far, and awakened something in him–in retaliation to a more physical form of abuse, he accidentally cast a Fireball in his family home. Miraculously he survived, but his sisters and father did not–his mother being absent at the time.

Knowing he would face death if he stayed long enough for his mother to find out what he’d done, he fled the Underdark, still unsure of how he’d caused the incineration of his family home and only taking the paintbrush he’d been using at the time.

After weeks of wandering and not successfully taking care of himself, Chiaro was found by a band of dragonborn. After much debate, the elder, a bronze clergyman, insisted they take the young mage in and nurse him back to health. He stayed with the band for a while, and was raised by the elder, who taught him traditional dragonborn rites until the day he died. Among the band were a few kobold, one of which being Screm, a loudmouthed rogue who liked to stay near him because according to her, “This one good heat source.”

One day, a couple of years later, the band came upon a procession of nobles travelling to another city. Chiaro noticed, among the exotic animals being paraded behind the palanquin, a black tressym–or winged cat–was being forced to fly, attached to the palanquin by a strong leather lead, with an injured wing. He produced flame and threw the small fireball at the lead, severing it, and quickly coaxed the tressym away, abandoning his band in his escape from outraged guards. Screm was in hot pursuit, helping him by using her loud volume to her advantage and deafening the enemies. He managed to nurse the creature back to health, but when he attempted to set her free, she stayed with him. He named her Oscuro, and continued to travel with her and his kobold friend alone.

Eventually they reached the capitol city of the Kingdom of Grand, and with grumbling bellies the genasi and the kobold decided to join the adventurer’s guild with promise of coin. Things were relatively quiet for a while, until undead forces began forming on all fronts. Tasks put to them by the adventurer’s guild were fewer “deal with loose bandits” or “slay this pest”, and became “evacuate the city before hordes of shadows strike” and “implore the dwarven allies for aid”. In so doing he became an honorary dwarf, taking up a dwarven name–Erias–and creating a bronze quarterstaff that could cast a Chaos Bolt once a day.

Things came to a head when Chiaro and Screm found themselves in the middle of a desperate battle against Vecna, the one-eyed and one-handed lich deity who had sworn an oath of destruction against the goddess of peace, Eldath, and every living creature who stood with her. Chiaro, in trying to stave off the undead forces, was killed by a vassal of Vecna, who instantly revived him to send a message of death to the people of Grand. He and Screm, along with more than a thousand other adventurers, joined with Eldath to defend the capital against this great evil. With their efforts combined, they managed to defeat the lich, but at a cost–Eldath herself succumbed to her wounds shortly after Vecna was destroyed.

Now in an era of uncertainty, Chiaro Arkenrae of the Underdark wonders if he has another part to play…

[genba]

DnD Backstory

Being born during a war is strange and confusing; especially when you have no idea what it is like. From what i was told, it all sounded like a contradiction of itself. 

Nicklaus told me that it was an honor to serve, that he was respected and treated like someone important.

Isadora said, however, how terrifying it was. To stand on the front lines and stare at those who were stronger, more fearsome, than you. To know your chances of survival were so slim, and that you would probably never see your loved ones again.

Remy told me about how he saved a whole town of innocents, and I remember how happy he looked. The expression didn’t last long as he recalled having to eradicate the next village over. 

Tompkin told me of the hard decision to leave they’re friends behind, as their yells of encouragement turned to screams of anguish. 

Brookes recalled her last kiss with her best friend, their last human interaction that would ground them until they turned themselves into monsters. 

Alaric didn’t say much, but while he was sleeping, he would scream. He would hold his hands out, cradling an imaginary baby and yelling apologies over and over. On his last day, he prayed to anyone that listened, saying he had to kill it; it was making too much noise.

They still all died in the end; no matter if they were heroes or villains or simply just a crying baby. 

I had never experienced the war, but I was certainly told about it. 

My father raised me but I’m not dumb so i know i had to have had a mother. I never knew her though, and father would never talk about her. He would only stare at me with a blank expression whenever i asked, as if he expected better than for me to worry about things that did not matter.

I still wondered about her though.

Did she look like me? Sound like me? Was she still alive, or did she die like everyone else? Was she dumb, for father wouldn’t keep her around if she was? Or was she smart? Smarter than me? Smarter than father?

Alfonso once told me that he hated his mother. That she used to stare at him with contempt. That she used to hit him and blame the war on him. Which is dumb. How can one man cause a century old war. He wasn’t even alive to see the start of it. I guess it didn’t matter; he ended up killing her.

Nikia told me that not all mothers were like that. That she was a mother, and that she had loved her children unconditionally. That she would do absolutely anything for them, such as coming to us.

I wonder where my mother landed on that spectrum

My father didn’t seem to land on that spectrum at all. He never seemed to hate me, always providing a bed and a book, and making sure i was fed. But he didn’t seem to love me. He never tucked me into bed, never hugged or kissed or comforted me. I never even knew what a birthday was until Birdie told me about it.

He always pushed me to be more though; to read more books, to brew more elixirs, to tinker and make and forge and experiment until my eyebrows were singed off and my fingers were too stiff to even stitch the hole in my side. Introspection is a strange thing, for i am still not very sure whether he did it out of love or because he needed a pair of smaller hands to reach where he couldn’t.

I  was grateful when father started to involve me in his work, even if the basement was too cold, and the ground too sticky. I didn’t like it at first, blood was hard to get off and father always made me hold onto the important bits while he worked. But I never complained, because it was interesting and i learned so much about people; what they could do and how magic and machines could help them evolve. I loved working with father, even if he made me pump Nikia’s heart to restart it.

That was all before I met Marcus. He was younger than everyone else that had come through but older than me. He told me lots of things, stuff that you couldn’t read in a book; like the way a cinnamon bun tasted, or the feeling of a cats fur when they press against your legs.He told me about his father and how he would hug him and play games with him. He told me so much, and he was around for a long time, longer than the others. He seemed to be taking the tinkering well, and even though he was out for a couple of days after each session, he would always wake up and tell me more things. 

He held my hand once, reaching out through the bars to catch my own. It was strange, but i liked it. I liked the feeling. I liked Marcus. I told him that. He told me we were friends.

I had never had a friend before.

I remember the last month before the Mourning. Father was getting aggravated. Marcus would come out of sessions looking worse and worse. He was dying. It usually didn't bother me, but this time it hurt. My heart hurt. I told Marcus this. I was telling him lots of things.

He cried. He held my hand and said he didn’t want to die. He wanted to go back and see his dad. He said he couldn’t handle another session. He told me my father was going to kill him.

I was confused. Everyone had died. Usually it didn’t bother me. Other than the sinking of my stomach, and the tears and the headache and the clenching of my heart and the pain at the back of my neck and —

Oh

It did bother me. They had told me so many things, even Alaric, although he didn’t say it to my face.

Thinking back, i know better. They didn’t want to be there. Who would want to be stuck in a cage, dying. They were like me. Not being able to leave, not knowing what was going on outside other than what they are being told. Being pushed and pushed and pushed until finally they just break.

I didn’t want them to break. They shouldn’t have been broken. We shouldn’t have broken them.

I told father this and it was the first time he had shown some kind of emotion towards me. He was angry. His eyes were glowing and his hands had grabbed me. He threw me into the basement, cursing and storming up to the table. He told me to strap Marcus down. Marcus was so weary, and didn't put up much of a fight, didn't put up much of anything really. Father was scaring me, my fingers and my brain didn't want to concentrate and i must have fumbled too much with the straps. 

He slammed his research book down. A curious thing that only ever opened for him. He stalked over to Marcus and that’s when it happened. Marcus seemed to come alive, more awake than i had seen in the 2 months of knowing him. His hands shot out and dug into father's eyes. Father was screeching and flailing but Marcus wasn’t letting go. He told me to run. To get out. 

But I couldn’t move. There was a sound in the air. Something haunting and terrifying. Father was screeching too, trying to pull away from Marcus.

The basement, whilst underground, still had small windows to let air in. Father always said he hated the smell of the dead. 

It was through these windows that I saw it. A mist, a fog, dense and rolling towards us. I could hear the screams of people, even though I knew we were on the outskirts of Cyre. Who were they? Why were they screaming?

Father finally dislodged Marcus and threw him away. He started cursing, saying how he was sick of it, how he was going to kill Marcus.

“And you”

I’ve never been scared of father. I've never had a reason too. But in this moment, with the haunting screams, the deep groans and the slumped over figure of Marcus, i was terrified of the man before me. He didn't resemble my father. His eyes were bleeding, red tears streaming down his face. His eyes were completely black, but almost glowed in the dark, damp basement. 

“You have been conspiring against me, with this man whispering in your ear” 

I faltered back as he took steps towards me, my back bumping into the work table. My hands caught me, one landing on the stone and the other on top of my father's research book. His hands were outstretched as if to grab my face, but he never got the chance as a chain wrapped around his neck and pulled him backwards. 

Marcus had gotten up. He was bleeding and crying and yelling, “ GO GO GO”

He was telling me to go. To leave him behind. It reminded me of Thompkin and how they had to go, how their friends were encouraging them, to leave them behind. To survive.

“GO!”

And so i did. I ran. I could hear the screams of father and Marcus. I could hear the fighting and the cursing. But i still went. Crashing through the door. 

Today seemed to be the worst day for going though. For behind me, as far as the eye could see, there was mist. A mist and a deep groan that seemed to vibrate the very ground I stood on.

I have always been told things. I like knowing and i like stories and i like that there is always more to find out. But in all the years that I’ve been told things, by all the people who have said things to me, I’ve never been told anything like this. About groaning mist that seemed to reach out towards me.

So I turned on my heel, and ran the other way, with screams and groans at my back, and a heavy forest in front of me.

I didn't even realize I had grabbed my father's research book on the way out. 

[0milkman0]

dnd character background idea

First rule of reincarnation is to have insane sex with the guy who killed you last time

[ichimakesart]

Curious Tigress - Part 2

Fin.

Thank you @raceofhearts for proofreading♡

More comics

Get out

Bath time

The Last Duel

[ash-2-ash]

Another dnd character backstory cause why not? I feel like the inspiration for this character is pretty obvious if you’ve seen Once Upon a Time lol. So this is Mr. Silver (he/him) a level 5 warlock with a fiend patron.

(1033 words)

Mister Silver was once human with a wife and child. His memories of this time are not incredibly clear, but they are there. He remembers the arguments with his wife, who he didn’t have the best relationship with, but cared for nonetheless. He also remembers spending his days toiling away at work, but can’t quite remember what it is that he did. His clearest memories, though, are those of his daughter, Ana. Her smile could brighten any room, her laughter cure any sorrow, and her presence relieved any fatigue from working all day. Any time he sits and relives these memories, however, they always end the same way. The soldiers come, demanding any able bodies join the war efforts. The pain of his injured leg. The panic, the fires, the screams.

His next memories are far worse. A terrible, grating voice sounds in his head, whispering wonderfully terrible things. It promises to give him all the power in the world - enough to get back his family, even. The voice tells him that if he wants this power, all he need do is find the Crocodile… Silver blinks and looks down to find that he’s covered in blood. He feels strong now, powerful enough to take on armies. And his leg is… healed? He can walk normally, although after years of living with this injury, he’s much more used to the movements of a limp than a normal gait - best keep the cane, then. Immediately after having that thought, the voice returns. “You’ve achieved the power I asked you to. Now for my end of the deal: the ability to use it.” Suddenly a new wave of thoughts and knowledge flooded his brain. Spells, histories, rituals, and how to use all of this knowledge to his advantage.

From this point, he set out, searching tirelessly to find his wife and daughter. An interesting discovery he made is that whether the result of his new abilities or the deal he made, he didn’t need sleep like he once did. He could sleep and very well would if needed, but it was now far from a nightly event. Occasionally, he would also have thoughts that weren’t quite his own. They were subtle at first, but became louder and louder until he couldn't drown them out anymore. By this point he had been alive more than a century and a half - far longer than any human lifespan - and he hadn’t aged even a day. He had to make peace with the fact that he could no longer truly call himself human, but he did continue to fight the darkness gathering at the edges of his mind — darkness that threatened to consume him the moment he let down his guard.

By the time he was around two centuries old, he realized that there was no possible way he could see either his wife or daughter again. Stricken with grief, he allows the darkness not to consume him, but to join with him, forever changing him. His eyes became an unnatural color, his skin took on an almost scaly appearance, and his nails grew longer and darker as he finally gave up the last of his sense of humanity.

From here, Silver traveled aimlessly, making deals wherever he went. Because of his appearance and cold, calculated nature, he was given the moniker “Crocodile,” which felt eerily familiar. Eventually, he came across a small, isolated territory on the brink of ruin. The lord of the area asked Silver for help caring for his people as he was passing through. The lord agreed to give the Crocodile whatever he wanted in return, and was surprised when all that was asked was that he hand over his castle. The lord eagerly agreed to these terms, but was shocked and appalled when upon making contact with the Crocodile’s outstretched hand, all of the people in his territory were transported into the castle before they turned into household items and moved as if by magick into their proper places. The lord was exiled from his own castle, haunted by the knowledge that he had condemned his people until the day that he died.

Silver remained in the castle for many years afterward. The surrounding farmlands and villages quickly fell to ruin, while the castle, through the magick and upkeep of Mr Silver, remained immaculate. Here, Silver kept himself locked away for several decades, having grown bored of the outside world. He began to reflect on his past, his human years, and the deal he had made. The more he thought about what happened in the past, the more he felt slighted, tricked. He began to realize that the demon gave him knowledge and tricked him into power that would never allow him to rejoin his family. He was trapped in the mortal plain, and didn’t know when he’d get the ability to leave. He began researching both his patron and his curse, recalling that the demon had also called the one he stripped of the powers in the past “Crocodile.” Unfortunately, information on this subject was nearly impossible to find, so progress in gathering information was always slow.

Silver found himself alternating between venturing out, whether it be to make a deal and amuse himself with the subsequent chaos, or to gather new research materials. Of course with his research came the realization that if he continued down this path, he would die. Of course he wanted to be reunited with his lost family, but there was also a reason he injured his own leg to avoid going to war. He was utterly terrified of death, especially the judgment that awaited him. After all that he has done and all that he has lived through, how could he ever hope to have a peaceful afterlife?

After several centuries spent either in isolation, or traveling to see how the world has changed, he is called out again by the messenger of a baron. Apparently, he has called a band of adventurers to take down a witch who laid a curse on his now barren wife, and is willing to make a deal in exchange for the witch’s head. And what’s this…? A witcher? How interesting…

[chaoticincompetent]

I am LOVING this more textured pen for lineart. It's much softer and looser than the G Pen.

Patience is no more cheerful, though...

[words-writ-in-starlight]

listen I expected literally Nothing from the D&D movie okay, like I can't make it clear enough that I expected the most soulless money grab with a good cgi budget imaginable, I went in having already gone through every stage of grief and landed on acceptance and LISTEN

I fucking CRIED during this dumb RPG movie. it wasn't just "not terrible" it was objectively good with a clever plot and compelling characters and sincere emotional beats. this movie loves D&D so fucking much and it NAILS the "a bunch of goobers try to be cool and accidentally discover The Power Of Friendship And Also Great Violence" classic D&D party vibe. their barbarian's last name is fucking Kilgore and my entire family cried in the theater.

I hope they make twelve of these motherfuckers.

[crowbitz]

return of the poedigal son

[dingodoodles]

✨🐓MORE ROOSTER BACKSTORY! 🐓✨ Time for some scarf origin story >:3c