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Short Stories for D&D Characters

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Basically I have a few characters that I'd like you all to consider and give feedback.

Ok the first one is a Paladin of Bahamut who joins the group at a later time, paragon or close to it. He's kind of a depressed character, he believes in the ways of Bahamut, but he doesn't expect anyone else to. He's willing to give people the chance to surprise him, but he doesn't think anyone will do the "right" thing. He will eventually lead an army to retake his nation and make a utopia under the ideals of Bahamut. Below is his backgroung story.


Under a Faded Banner

Years ago a wise man once told me, “follow your feet, they know the way.” And that’s what I held on to for those years. I doubt that old preacher knew that those few words would keep me alive.


I placed the blade in the waxy substance in the small container below. I held it up and leaned forward. I brought the blade down across my face, red hair falling from my face as I shaped my beard. We were only a few hours from the border, a few hours from home. I smiled as I placed the blade on my face once more. A sudden noise came from behind, jumping to my feet I pointed the blade towards the sound, blood trickled down my cheek. I relaxed as I saw my squire holding my armor and sheathed longsword in his hands. I shook my head and the young man, not even old enough to be considered a man said, “I’m sorry I startled you Crusader Bragg.”

“Damn it Haggart!” I said, putting my finger over the cut on my cheek. “How many times have I told you to calmly walk into my tent?” I replied going back to shaping my beard, motioning for him to place the equipment on the cot.

“I’m sorry, but how can you not be excited? We’ll be home by dinner! I can’t imagine the celebration they have planned for us. I mean, how long has it been since we left on the crusade?”

I stopped shaving and shook my head “Six years. Six long years.” I sighed before saying, “Go ready my horse. Has he been washed for the ceremony tonight?”

“Yes sir.” He said, moving towards the exit.

“Make sure you have your good tunic on tonight” I said as I waved him away. Another droplet of blood fell from my cheek to the ground.


After two hours of travel we crossed the river that marked our border. I stopped, and put away my heavy shield. I held out my hand, and Haggart placed the banner in my hand. I held it up as we continued down the road. The banner fluttered in the wind as we entered the town. The cobbled street that led up to the castle was surprisingly empty, the few peasants I saw quickly made their way indoors. Haggart looked up at me in disappointment. I looked down at him and chuckled, “What, did you expect the peasants to throw us the celebration? No, no, the royalty will throw us the celebration, and that won’t be until we reach the castle.”

We continued toward the castle and soon I and the other officers were ushered into the throne room. We came in, lowered our heads and kneeled. I held the banner up and a voice came from ahead. “Stand! Stand my proud warriors!” I stood, puzzled. This was not our king’s voice. I looked up to see Prince Thurgard standing in front of the throne wearing full king’s regalia. The prince walked up with a smile on his face and placed a hand on the two crusaders in front of me.

One of them ventured the question we’d all been thinking, “What of the King? What of the Queen?”

The smile faded from his face. “Yes… Father succumbed to an illness shortly after you left. Mother was so distraught that she killed herself.” He hung his head for a moment before continuing in a somber tone, “Well, I’m not the only one who has experienced loss recently.” He said, looking towards me. I resisted the urge to hang my head. He moved through the officers to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. “He was a good man. I’m sorry to hear of his demise. There were a lot of losses at that battle, or so I’m told.” I nodded as he made his way back to the throne. “I’ve heard that you have had great success in acquiring relics to Bahamut.” I signaled to the doorman, who opened the door, and four men carried a massive chest in. The four men kneeled and lowered their heads as they opened the chest. The room lit up as the vast amount of gold and silver shone from the chest. The king smiled, and said “Impressive! This calls for a celebration! All your men are invited, but the grand hall isn’t as appropriate as I’d like, so let’s celebrate at the rapids! I expect you to be there in about two hours. You’re dismissed.” I had an uneasy feeling; something about the room was off. I was rushed out of the room before I could put my finger on it.

The group made our way to the rapids. It was a sacred place to us. It is said that Agathon the Just was given his power from Bahamut at these falls. I myself had spent years here training and praying. We stood at the edge of the rapids, paying homage to this sacred place. We turned around as the royal guard and the King arrived. We kneeled and he waved us to our feet. “I expected bards and other royalty to join us for the celebration.” I said over the rushing water behind me.

“There will be no celebration.” The king snarled, “I’m so happy you’re all back. Even happier to know that you lost so much during the crusade. Ties up the loose ends quite nicely.”

“I don’t understand” I said, stepping forward, the banner still in my hand. I felt blood drip down from the cut on my cheek once more.

“Be just. Be noble. Help the less fortunate. Pfeh. The peasantry is there to be exploited. The only thing that you should be worried about is yourself. Power is the only thing that matters, not honor, not justice. Laws are there to be exploited. You’re a relic from a dead age, it’s time you joined your ideals. Rotting at the bottom of the world.” He snarled. He motioned with his head and cloaked figures stood up and before I had a chance to react I was pelted with bolts. I stumbled back as blood poured from the holes in my armor. I attempted to draw my longsword and was pelted with a new volley of bolts. I fell backwards and was washed away as I fell into the river. The last thing I remember seeing before I heard a crunch as my head hit a rock was my companions dying at the hands of the army, and this sanctified river turning red with blood.


I don’t know how long it was before I awoke. All I remember was that the sun was rising and I was very cold. I guess the river washed me downstream for many miles. I did not recognize the area, and knew that I’d find no hospitality in the city. So I stood up, and promptly fell over, my head was caked with dried blood. I stood up more slowly this time and made my way to the coast. I knew that this river would lead to a neighboring nation, so I just kept walking, and walking. I slept whenever I could. I had the strangest dreams. I dreamt that a group would rekindle the ways of bahamut, that our heroic tale would inspire the world to take up arms and cast out the darkness. I chalked this up to simply having been hit on the head. There was nobody left that lived up to the ideals of justice and peace anymore. I could be the only one. However, I will not leave my ideals due to despair. That being said, I don’t expect anyone else to follow these ideals.



(walking into a tavern or wherever, this is the description I give of my character)

A man walks into the tavern. He’s clad in heavy full plate that clearly at one point in the past shone brightly, polished and regal. It no longer shines under the layer of tarnish and grime. His hair is unkempt, and his beard is long and un-groomed. His eyes brown, they show a combination of despair and determination for those capable of noticing. On his back is a large shield, which is in much of the same condition as the rest of his armor. On his hip is a sheathed longsword, the sheath in rough shape. He carries a ragged pack over his shoulder and sits at the bar silently.











Next character.

He's a warforged who is attempting to become more human. The basic idea is that he can attempt to emulate human emotions but does not understand them.

For instance, somebody insults him minorly.

He flips out, flips a table, and punches the guy across the room. He immediately stops and turns to the bartender and says, "is anger not the appropriate human response?"

That should give you an idea of the character.







Got another character who I'm working on. Basically he's a mad artificer who is always tinkering and therefore always blowing off eyebrows.



Basically, what do you think of these characters?

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