So for our Dungeons & Dragons campaign, our Dungeon Master has made a custom campaign for us to explore and enjoy. As such, players were required to write their own character backstory. While I've mainly been distracted with reading the Player's Handbook I hastily wrote mine last night since we begin play later tonight. It could probably use some more editing and detailing, but I like it well enough:
I am forever shamed, because my parents are of different clans; my father being a black dragonborn, and my mother of the brown dragonborn. The two met on the battlefield when all of the dragonborn clans had to come together to defeat the ever growing and dangerous Orc threat in the Tribulation War. After the war, my parents parted ways and returned to their clans. I only know of my parents from what the Cleric leader has told me as my mother passed away during labor. Being alone in the world, Darvinrok, the Cleric leader, cared for my egg and took me in after I hatched.
Growing up in a pure brown dragonborn society, I was often treated different, because I had inherited my father’s black scales but kept the brown dragonborn society’s breath weapon of ice. Although the color difference was subtle, it made me stick out like a sour thumb as my childhood nickname was “Wrongscale.” As much as I tried to fit in, my scales always skewed someone’s opinion or treatment of me.
To prove my honor to the clan and follow the only footsteps I knew, I became Darvinrok’s Cleric apprentice and dedicated my time and devotion to Shelnedok “the Earth Shaker,” Ancestor of the Brown Dragonkind. Under Darvinrok, I not only learned how to live a life of prayer and devotion, but also to slay with a mighty broadsword and protect with a light shield. Wielding these weapons and learning to channel Shelnedok’s divinity, I became a battle cleric.
One day while praying at the Altar of Shelnedok, a group of fiendish Purescales* looking to make trouble on my behalf entered the temple. I heard them laugh and mock me as they walked down the aisle but still I continued to play the fool and stayed kneeling, pretending to pray.
One of them shoved me from behind, “Didn’t you hear me, Wrongscale? You don’t belong here. This isn’t your world.”
I recovered, pretending as if I meant to lean forward in a bow, my eyes still closed as I started to hum.
The same voice growled, “Nobody mocks me, especially not some two-bit dragonborn.”
I heard the hastily unsheathing of a weapon and snapped to attention, rolling into the target’s feet and knocking it over. As I tried to get to my feet, another Dragonborn uppercut me in the ribs. The blow sent me reeling backwards into a third Dragonborn who grabbed me from behind. To loosen his grip, I slammed the back of my head into his face and hurtled myself backwards, using my body weight to crush him as we crashed to the floor. The Dragonborn that had uppercut me now lunged for a second blow, but I sidestepped the attack and drew my shield to bare. The wild Dragonborn swung with another strike, but quicker, I heaved my shield into him, catching him under the chin, knocking him out cold. I drew my broadsword and turned to face the first Dragonborn whom I had rolled into.
The Dragonborn smirked, “Very impressive, Wrongscale, but now you die!”
Yelling, the Dragonborn charged with his sword held two-handed above his head, ready for a devastating blow. I yelled back, holding my ground. As the Dragonborn came within distance and began his downward swing, I broke his stride with a kick to the chest, breaking any chance he had for defense as he jolted and rebound. Upon seeing the opening, I thrust the pommel of my sword into his face, and he was finished.
Even though I didn’t provoke the fight and merely fought back in self-defense, the other members of the clans were none too pleased. Some even went so far as to demand that I be beheaded for my actions. Darvinrok pleaded with the Clan leader however, and their verdict was that I would be sent to Granwald, far over to the east to join the scout post. The scout post was near the edge of the Untamed Wilds, and would keep watch for any Orc or feral Gnoll tribe uprisings.
During this time I was only seventeen, and only Dragonborn over the age of eighteen were rotated to the post, but the Clan Leader made an exception. While I managed to walk out with my life and was told that my reason for leaving was to bring Shelnedok’s divine light to the wilds, I knew that being cast away from the clan was just as detriment as any death. The Clan Leader simply just wanted to cleanse his clan of my black scale impurity, and put me in a place where I would hopefully not cause any more trouble.
After many months of travel across the ashes of Verania and the scorching desert of Zesbalam, I made final camp at the scout post in Granwald. Choosing to have no more association with my clan and no desire to go by my nickname, I am Turok, Dragonborn Cleric.
Personality Traits and such
1) Why is your character interested in adventuring?
Turok has pretty much been exiled from his clan, and doesn't really dig the whole hermit thing. Turok will go anywhere and do anything to fulfill his sense of honor.
2) What drives your character (vengeance, desire for status, the seeking of penance, etc.)? What is the inspiration for this drive?
Even though Turok was always treated differently and disrespected in his clan, he still carries himself highly, because he knows that the situation wasn't his fault. However, living a life where most everyone detests him has left him with a slight chip on his shoulder, and has some slight trust issues as he is mostly reserved and tries to keep a guard up before letting anyone get too close emotionally. Being of Good alignment though, he upholds laws of justice, but should the law be morally unsound he chooses not to follow them. Turok has a deep sense of need for honor, because it's part of his Dragonborn quality and alignment.
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