[Fanfiction] My first 3 characters' backgrounds

[Thefourhorsemen]

loved everything i have read on this thread so far. i have been gaming for nearly 40 years now and regardless of it being D&D/Champions/GURPS etc... over the years, our groups have always required backgrounds for the characters we create. it is great to see their will be people playing this game with true passion in their hearts, the stories show that. great job everyone.

[Livin]

I originally wrote this back during Nosgoth's run and have decided to let it be my Vampire's backstory, it was a lot longer than what I did before so I'm just posting the final bit.

 

 

They move at the pace of the slowest men, ensuring that they stay together; and no one is left behind as they head south along the wall, seeking the gap in it that has been spoken of in fables and bedtime stories. Whatever stalks them claims several hundred of them at a time with each passing night and without being noticed. After nine days of marching, now feasting upon the horses after exhausting their supplies, this once fearless army of ten thousand strong has now been reduced to a timid force of less than three. They fight to stay awake as they have been pushing themselves to march along the wall day and night without stopping for the last two days, for they no longer believe there is any defense against this unknown threat. They do not lose hope that they may yet survive and make their way back home, for their leader Nash continues to believe.

 

The army can march no longer, they must rest after these two whole days of marching without stopping. They set up camp, lighting many fires that they encircle with every other man facing away from the fire as they watch for anything that may come out at night. They sleep in shifts like before, every man getting a couple of hours at a time and the fear of being the next one taken keeps many of them up. However, after two days of marching without rest there are campfires where everyone around it can be found passed out. Shouts to wake people up can be heard throughout the encampment as everyone is fearful of what may happen when they drop their guard.

 

Around Nash’s fire sits the various nobles that are sworn to his father, the king, and their champions who are charged with their lord’s protection. Beside Nash sits his chosen champion, an older man named Laurence with his claymore propped against his shoulder. In the time of house Beorn’s campaigns in the south he had a reputation for besting over half a dozen men at a time in battle. The nobles find this an odd choice for a champion, given his age when compared to the others; but he has served the family as long as Nash can remember and was charged with training him in the ways of the sword. Laurence looks to Nash who is staring up and trying to find stars to gaze upon through the thick clouds that are rolling in to carpet the night’s sky.

 

“How are you, my King?”

 

• “I hate this sky.”
  

“My King?”

 

• “Ever since parts of the army started going missing it has been like this. It is bright and sunny throughout the day without a cloud in the sky, but as soon as the sun goes down the clouds start rolling in and painting the sky pitch black.”
  

“Perhaps we should have rested during the day and marched at night like we did before?”

 

• “If only we could, we’ve abandoned the tents and everything else we felt unnecessary in order to travel light so we could cover more ground. The sun is so bright during the day, there is no escape from the light for our eyes.”
  

“Sleeping at night was costing us men, poor sleep sounds like a trade anyone here would make.”

 

• “Even when we march at night we continue to lose more of our people. I’ve heard it among the men, they ask where their friends are who marched with them the night before and someone tells them that those friends fell back from fatigue only to never be seen afterwards the next time anyone looked back to check on them. With the skies like they are, the only light we can count on at night is from torches; and they may light the way but there is never enough for everyone no matter how fast we make them each morning because they know those with torches stand a better chance of not being taken.”
  

“My King I think-“

 

• “I am no king.”
  

“As far as I see it, you are the last of your brothers and the sole heir to the throne. Is there something I am missing?”

 

• “We must make it back home first, through the gap and back north.”
  

“Do you think we will make it?”

 

• “I have to believe we will. What state we are in when we do is the mystery.”
  

“How much further do you think we are from it?”

 

• “According to the fables, it resides in the marshland half a day’s ride from a city that is twelve days by foot from home. We marched straight east from home to reach the site where we first breached the wall so that shouldn’t affect the distance too badly.”
  

“Twelve days of walking is how much you believe we need to do?”

 

• “Yes”
  

“So we have four more days of this, I don’t know if the army will hold together that long at this point?”

 

• “One”
  

“What, my King”

 

• “We should have one more day of walking left, not four. Seven days of normal walking during the day, plus two days of walking at day and night. This means you can double the last two days to count them as four, four and seven is?”
  

“Eleven, one shy of twelve.”

 

• “We’re almost there.”
  

“Do you think we’ll be safer once we’re in the marsh?”

 

• “It can’t be any more dangerous than being out here has been.”
  

“I can’t argue against that. You should rest my King, before your watch begins.”

 

• “Wake us to take over when the time comes, you are no good to any of us without your rest either.”
  

Nash goes to sleep with the other nobles around the fire, while Laurence and the other champions encircle them with their weapons drawn. Nash dreams of his father and brothers, feasting around the table in the great hall back home. David and Garrett are arguing over how to punish a servant that was caught stealing food from the castle, while Edward and Francis are discussing their next hunting trip. All while this is going on Nash notices his father, sitting peacefully with a smile as he looks upon all his sons. It inspires a sense of calm he has not felt since he first crossed the breach into these lands.

 

The calmness passes as he awakens to a faint scream and he opens his eyes to behold the monsters that have been taking the men. They look like giant black bats, as big as a man with talons for toes and clawed fingers on top of long wings that carry them through the air unseen in the darkness of the cloud covered sky. From above they swoop down, snatching up any man whose guard is lowered, making sure to slit their throats before they have a chance to scream; but this time one of the men managed to get a sound out before being silenced and Nash has heard it. With a loud yell, Nash alerts everyone of what is happening and they all rise to fight for their lives. Instead of retreating after losing the element of surprise, the monsters choose to press an attack. From above they dive down quickly, hiding in the darkness of night until they are upon the soldiers and snatching them up off the ground.

 

As the creatures fly low some of them are shot out of the sky by the archers that manage to spot them in the darkness by the light of the camp fires and are quickly set upon by dozens of the men as they exact their anger and vengeance upon the now defenseless monsters, hacking them to pieces with their weapons while setting them on fire with torches. The creatures that manage to get on their feet prove just as formidable on the ground as they do in the air, disappearing into the darkness and remerging to kill those men who move in small enough numbers. They use the tips of their wings as spears, lunging them forward to completely penetrate the men’s bodies and pull them into the shadows or swinging those very same tips wide to cut open any part of the body that isn’t armored. Any man who manages to get past the wings must then deal with their clawed hands that rest in the middle of their wings where they fold and mouths full of razor sharp teeth, tearing through leather armor into the men’s flesh like it is nothing. One of these vicious creatures has set its sights on Nash as he rallies among the nobles and their champions, fending off attacks as they come while making sure not to leave the light of their campfire.

 

Cries by Laurence to “Protect the King” fall on deaf ears as everyman is struggling to defend their own lives against the increasing number of monsters. The winged beasts target the archers, snatching them right up off the ground. The spearmen do their best to defend them, attempting and occasionally succeeding in impaling them on their pikes while hurling javelins at them as they swoop down to snatch up whoever they can. The light infantry men move quickly to overwhelm the creatures when the fall while the heavy infantry target those monsters that get to their feet and put up a fight. As a result, only those in the path of the monster headed for Nash attack it and it is more in self dense than in defense of the one they call their king.

 

It tears through every man that gets in its way as it charges towards Nash. The champions and nobles move to meet it, leaving only Laurence behind to protect him, but they only manage to stall it. It kills half of them with just one swing, slicing open their throats with the tip of its wing. The rest try to surround it, attempting to it strike from its blind spots; but it is like it can sense everything that comes with in range of it, knocking away any attack it isn’t able to counter with a deadly blow until they are all dead. It charges once more for Nash now solely defended by Laurence.

 

Laurence stands between Nash and the beast as it charges towards them, assuming a defensive position in anticipation. Laurence is ready to lay down his life to protect Nash, but Nash has something else in mind as he moves to Laurence’s side. Laurence tells him to get back behind him and run in case he should fail; but Nash refuses, expressing a desire to die fighting by his side. Laurence begs him to reconsider while there is still time, but Nash denies him this and draws his sword while raising a wooden shield he picked up from one of the men that have fallen. The monster is upon them and they begin the fight for their very lives.

 

Nash steps forward, away from Laurence, to draw the creature towards him in hopes it will create an opening for Laurence to strike. The gamble pays off as it lunges both wing tips forward in an attempt to impale Nash and he manages to catch them both with the shield as they penetrate it while Laurence quickly cuts the tips of both wings off with a single downward chop of his claymore; but it is not without cost as the wing tips have penetrated through Nash’s shield arm and into his chest, just missing his heart but pinning the shield to his chest. Nash falls back onto the ground and the monster stumbles after this occurs, as Laurence presses his attack and lunges his claymore straight for where he thinks the beast’s heart ought to be; but to Laurence’s shock, it catches the blade with the hand on its left wing as it folds the distal part of its right wing behind its hand. It then thrusts its right hand into Laurence’s gut and it bursts out through his back. The creature revels in watching Laurence choke on his own blood while trying to scream in pain as he his ribcage rests on its right arm; but in being so consumed by Laurence’s agony, it fails to see Nash get to his feet and move in to strike. With one swing of his sword he severs its right hand clean off, causing it to recoil as the creature steps back and Laurence falls to the ground dead.

 

The beast is now down to its left hand and its teeth to finish off Nash. It quickly attacks him with its right wing, now without a clawed hand or wing tip, to try knocking Nash off his footing before striking with the left hand. Nash back steps the right wing and blocks the left hand with his shield, with the claws digging into the shield in order to grasp it. Nash tries to chop the left hand off as it tries to grip the shield; but the monster yanks him forward, causing his arm to fling back as its mouth full of teeth opens and is aiming to bear down on his neck. In the last second, Nash manages to thrust his sword forward into its chest as he is pulled in close by the beast to deliver the finishing blow.

 

The beast falls forward, dead, landing on top of Nash as they both hit the ground and pushing the wing tips deeper into him until one of them pierces his left lung. Nash is pinned under it, unable to move and struggling to catch his breath as the dead beast bleeds all over him from where it was stabbed. He hears the fighting continue for hours until the sun begins to rise as the monsters flee from it and the dead or wounded ones are left behind to begin burning from exposure to the light, including the one on top of Nash. The heat from the flames is almost unbearable and the smoke that the monster’s corpse puts out makes it harder for Nash to breath, as well as making it harder to be seen. The men begin searching for Nash, his breathing is so weak that he is unable to yell out for them to hear where he is. Time passes but none discover him, hidden under a beast’s corpse that is further masked by a cloud of smoke as it cooks from exposure to the sun.

 

Eventually they discover Laurence’s body and come to believe that Nash has been taken away by the winged beasts, leading them to move on a little later to resume the journey south, leaving Nash behind. Nash’s hope of being found dies as he watches them move on after burying the dead. He lays there, trying to laugh without causing himself pain at the way he is about to perish. He always preferred to live but he always hoped he would die fighting if he had to; but this is no way to go, smothered beneath a foul smelling beast as he suffocates from it and blood slowly filling his lungs with each breath. He chooses to close his eyes and accepts his fate, hoping to have another nice dream before his end finally comes.

 

Nash opens his eyes sometime later, expecting to be where he deserves to be on the other side of death and only finding himself where he was before. His breathing has returned to normal and the fatigue he has been carrying is long gone. The cooked corpse of the monster is still on top of him, but it no longer feels so heavy and dissolves into ash as he pushes it off of him, revealing that it is nighttime and that he must have been under there all day. He feels his wounds to find they are gone as if they were never there and that his flesh has turned pale. His senses are also different as he finds he can see everything in the dark as if it were the middle of the day, witnessing the winged monster returning once more.

 

They land in front of him as Nash grabs hold of Laurence’s claymore, finding he can lift it with ease and even handle it with only one hand if he wanted to. The monsters stare Nash down as he takes a defensive stance and begin to cry out as their bodies contort, shifting their form. When the change is over Nash beholds the monster to now be people with pale skin like his now is. One of them steps forward, a young woman wearing finery that would’ve put the ladies from his court to shame. She smiles at Nash as she extends her hand out to him, speaking elegantly.

 

“Welcome to our family . . . brother.”

 

 

[Golden Xan]

I originally wrote this back during Nosgoth's run and have decided to let it be my Vampire's backstory, it was a lot longer than what I did before so I'm just posting the final bit.

 

I was wondering whether you'd create a story for a Vampire as well. Very nice.

What was it, in your vision, that turned him a Vampire? Was it inhaling the ashes of the dead and burning werebat?

[Livin]

I was wondering whether you'd create a story for a Vampire as well. Very nice.

What was it, in your vision, that turned him a Vampire? Was it inhaling the ashes of the dead and burning werebat?

 

It was from inhaling the smoke and ashes; but also from the blood pouring all over him from where he impaled it, seeping into the wounds from where the wing tips pierced his arm and torso.

[CyanStargazer]

It was from inhaling the smoke and ashes; but also from the blood pouring all over him from where he impaled it, seeping into the wounds from where the wing tips pierced his arm and torso.

That sounds like a fun way to become a vampire. But I'm not entirely sure but isn't it that if you consume or intake vampire blood in some way you become a ghoul? I've never been entirely clear on that, but from some stuff I've seen isn't that sort of the norm for vampire blood consumption? I personally love it, I've always loved it when either a character becomes so metal that they use their own blood as a weapon or that blood in some way tragically turns them off a path they desired.

[Livin]

That sounds like a fun way to become a vampire. But I'm not entirely sure but isn't it that if you consume or intake vampire blood in some way you become a ghoul? I've never been entirely clear on that, but from some stuff I've seen isn't that sort of the norm for vampire blood consumption? I personally love it, I've always loved it when either a character becomes so metal that they use their own blood as a weapon or that blood in some way tragically turns them off a path they desired.

 

They haven't really gone over what is required to transition yet for deadhaus. Consumption is the most common but I've also seen where bites were enough and any blood transfer did the trick. It's possible some blood got into his mouth while he tried to scream or struggle.

[CyanStargazer]

So I thought about honoring the so far chaotic Mount & Blade Bannerlord campaign I'm playing to turn the character who I'm guessing has become known as "The Devil of Vlandia" should really become a vampire given her capacity for bloodshed.

So...

Ayra the Butcher - Vampire

Ayra sat on her chair, slowly drinking the sweet wine in her cup, cherishing every moment. It had been a long time since she became the monster the people saw her as. From a lowly position as a farmers daughter, to a war band leader, to a lord in a kingdoms army, to being the destroyer of said kingdom.

Ayra tried to recall how many noble bloodlines she had snuffed out. During the first war she was in, she had a small army of 100 men attacked by three armies of nobles at once. Over 400 men against her hundred, she recalled the fear she felt, but still kept her men ready. Then she recalled her enemy, less than 25 of them were experienced fighters, the rest were all peasants and nearly all of them were starved. Her men meanwhile while few, were far more experienced, well fed, and loyal not to the kingdom, but to Ayra until death.

Ayra recalled that battle, the blood of peasants flooded the river, their enemy's best fighters were dispatched with ease, and the three nobles were captured. After that, that was when her name became feared. Ayra arrived at a nearby fort her 'king' was besieging and borrowed the catapult, to 'return' the three nobles. Only afterwards did she learn that one of those nobles was the lord of the forts son, who went to aid his father but decided to take some easy pickings before hand.

Over the next three years, she earned many enemies in the other factions. After killing each noble, one of their family would seek her out for revenge before meeting the same fate. By the end her first war, half of the noble families in three factions were wiped out by Ayra and her loyal men. The royal prince of one kingdom sought to earn a reputation by taking Ayra's head, only to lose his own.

Ayra sighed as she recalled the "peace" her king had sought, she had NOTHING to do. She owned a small little fort at the edge of the continent, utterly bored by the peace. She made a few excursions against the local bandits, but they were no fun. During the second month of the peace, stories of her atrocities spread throughout the kingdom, how she butchered nobles. She quickly fell out of favor from the king, and even the small little fort she held as her own was at risk of being taken away. Then a man appeared to Ayra, he asked if she was bored by the peace, of serving a lord who wouldn't let her sate her bloodlust, and asking if she would like a way to release the beast within. All he asked was that she would serve as servant to a new king, a king who would let her do what she want to her enemies, and seldom interfere with her desires. Before even hearing the benefits she agreed, and was bestowed The Kiss. With her new found strength, she plotted to turn against the kingdom, but approached her men first. She thought she'd have to slaughter half or more of her men when they found out what she was, but rather their loyalty ran deep, and many vowed to fight with her until time itself ceased to be.

So, she invited the lords of the land for a dinner where she would explain how those atrocities were but lies. Naturally the lords were unsure, but when Ayra said she'd make sure that they'd be able to bring their armies nearby, they agreed. Ayra had asked the stranger however to turn her men, and so they went about poisoning their remaining food stock. They would not have to worry about being out of food for long. When the lords and their armies arrived, Ayra was happy to see that their armies, despite numbering in the thousands, were starving, and ordered her men to provide them food. While the lords were inside chatting with Ayra, they weren't aware that outside the fort walls their armies were choking on death, having their throats ripped out and blood drained. Before the dinner reached dessert, their armies were little more than walking corpses at Ayra's command.

Naturally, when Ayra revealed how foolish the lords had been, they tried to struggle and fight back against their now undead armies but life is fleeting, while death is forever.

Over the next year, Ayra led her armies, consuming the kingdom from the inside out. During eves of battles, some of the troops from the living sought to fight alongside the undead. Ayra discovered that while she had little sway over the nobles, the common folk had respected her treatment of her troops. So while the nobles plotted, Ayra heard and saw all their movements. Rival armies were turned from the inside out, turning on the leading noble on the eve of battle in ravenous hunger.

Ayra snapped back to the present, and looked up at the walls. Corpses, stripped of skin, were chained in front of flags in the halls pillars. Each flag was the flag of a nobles house from the kingdom she had destroyed, and the corpses belonged to their leaders. Behind her, was a large window, with the top covered by the kingdoms old flag, the once was king, now little more than a bloody decoration. Some in the new kingdom thought Ayra wasn't trustworthy with the undead, by Ayra was, much like she was to the king who now adorned her hall. That king just made the mistake of trying to put a leash on her. Her new lord cared little, for she brought death to anyone who would stand against him and her shear enjoyment of others pain made her little more than a tool and a threat. She knew this, but didn't care, as long as her lord kept pointing at people for her and her men to kill, she would let him call her a tool in front of her. She drained her cup, and got out of her chair, and gazed out the window. Now she turned her mind to those her lord asked her to fight, Gigahaus. Soon she and her men would take to the field of battle, and they would fear the Dance Macabre, for the bell of the undead tolls for all.

[Denis Dyack]

Amazing thread - will come back to dig deeper! Book marking!

[Temuldjin]

Sins everyone else are posting their characters background i guess ill post mine too.

 

The concept of the character: It's a revenant that is so old he no longer remembers how he became one, aimless and without motives, where he is fully consumed by his hatred which refuses to let him find peace and move on from his undead life, instead it have destined (or cursed) him to continue roaming the realm of man.

 

Name: N/A

 

My Revenant Background Story (i'm still tweaking it):

 

I will admit there is so much I do not know, so much I have forgotten... I am so old I no longer remember my name. When I try, there is just a vague sense of lingering emotions, mostly anger and hatred, adorned with flashes of faceless people, souls I must have known before but which are now strangers to me. It is like a parchment without writing on it, shattered and broken memories of a life, long since past. A life I can no longer quite recall.

 

I do happen to remember a time before the vampires walked the land, however. There were wars then, and there are wars now. So much have changed, and so much is just more of the same. Yet, I still walk on this realm, without knowing the reason why… and I have forgotten more than I will ever know.

 

I am old, very old. So I implore you, ponder just how insignificant you are to me. If you get in my way, I will not even hesitate, for I possess only hatred towards this existence. I must continue roaming, even though I no longer remember why, as this is the only purpose that I have left…

[Livin]

Not a background but a story I wanted to share

 

 

 

 

Of all the great cities of men that fell there is none more tragic than the one that fell under the rule of King Akram VII. From its earliest days as a hamlet it was a beacon for those seeking to prosper by the sweat of their labor and not have to worry that it could be siezed by nobility through heavy taxation or royal claim, for the noble family that founded it had successfully established guiding principles that allowed them and their people to flourish from one generation to the next while encouraging their subjects to be trained in various arts of defense. This prosperity often invited threats from the outside while every now and then there were those in the royal family that attempted to change the status quo; but each threat was met by an emboldened populace that fought with every fiber of their being to preserve their way of life. Raiders and bandits faced swift execution if their guilt was confirmed. Armies that marched to invade were overwhelmed by the shear numbers that challenged them as every man and most of the women met them on the field of battle.

 

When the dead first rose and marched on the living this kingdom found itself to be among the first in it's path. The scouts reported that a horde of undead that surpassed their numbers by a factor of three was a week away. In their desperation riders were sent to all neighboring kingdoms to join them on the battlefield field, arguing that if they were to fall and become part of the horde then even if the rest of them came together after it wouldn't be enough. All but two kingoms that were closest to them responded with promises of support. The alliances were made and the city nearly emptied as every capable citizen left to join the other armies on the field where they were to wait for the day when they would fight the dead, leaving behind only the infantile and elderly.

 

For days they waited and prepared for the battle to come, their concerns growing as the the dead grew closer while the allies were still nowhere to be seen. Riders were sent out to find them and never returned, causing many to fear that they had been betrayed and wished to return to their homes. King Akram VII sent part of his army back to secure the city, only for a handful of them to return with news that the city was burning and whoever wasn't killed was taken as slaves. Much of the army sought to return and rescue what remained of their people, but Akram argued against this and that if the dead continue to march unopposed then they're loved one's deaths would be guaranteed even if they managed to be rescued. The people ultimately chose to stay and prepared themselves for whatever may come as they watched the dead appear over the horizon.

 

When the battle was over it was King Akram that rose first as a newly made Revenant, sustained by the anger he felt over his people's demise and the betrayal of those he turned to for aid. The King and the others who rose on their own only numbered a couple dozen, with liche's beginning to raise the rest to serve as mindless fodder until Akram intervened to stop them and brought the horde's focus upon them once more. Before being dispatched for a second time the horde stood down at the command of the one leading them. It expressed understanding for their attachments but explained that those bodies were now nothing more than empty flesh, but Akram and the others stood their ground. This defiance in the face of certain destruction impressed the leader enough for it to order a cease to the liche's work and instead use the corpses another way.

 

Akram stood silent as the bodies were laid together in stacked, layers to build one massive pyramid of flesh. The leader ignited the pyramid with the violet flames that erupted from its body, burning up all of the bodies in spite of it not emitting any heat. Akram assumed this was done to ensure that they would never be brought back, a mass funeral meant as an act of appeasement; but from within the flames various particles of matter from the destroyed bodies swirled into a mass of iron and carbon, shaping itself into numerous swords of intricate detail. The leader pulled the swords from the fire, presenting them to Akram and the others as a gift in exchange for their service. Akram and what remained of his people took up the swords, creating the feeling that the rest of their people were with them once more; and together they all knelt down as they swore their fealty to the dead.

 

 

Edited October 18, 2020 by Livin