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Originally Posted by Argyle
Frogs?

Maybe Larian will have Slaad in the full release. I don't think any other game has done that yet. I've always wanted to see Sssendam in the flesh.


I'd be cool if we had a one shot questline that took us to Limbo. I imagine Gehk would be outraged at the Slaad for using the shape of a frog while being so freakish.

Originally Posted by A Clown
Yesss a picture too!!!
Frogs are superior, I think they are the ones who can bring happiness!
We need to worship them and mushroons!


I took the Beast Tamer trait as a ranger and summon a frog as his animal companion. Fell in love with the little guy so I felt compelled to include him in Gehk's history.

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Originally Posted by Svalr
Vaeltrass a Human Ranger ( will hopefully be Monk later ).
She is part of the super secret Lae'Zel fanclub in Baldur's Gate, in fact she is the founder and leader of it.


May I join this fan club? I can provide music and many treats!


Originally Posted by SaurianDruid
I took the Beast Tamer trait as a ranger and summon a frog as his animal companion. Fell in love with the little guy so I felt compelled to include him in Gehk's history.


Tell us the name of the frog! Frog tamer!

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may I humbly suggest.....Kermit

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Originally Posted by Sozz
may I humbly suggest.....Kermit


Such wisdom how may I possess?

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I love this thread.

Please keep more stories coming, ladies n gents. It is absolutely mesmerizing to read (especially when you include pictures)! <3


Hoot hoot, stranger! Fairly new to CRPGs, but I tried my best to provide some feedback regardless! <3 Read it here: My Open Letter to Larian
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So far I've explored the Sword Coast through three ladies, all with vastly different backgrounds. Pictures of all three can be found in this thread: https://forums.larian.com/ubbthreads.php?ubb=showflat&Number=736520#Post736520

First up is my beloved Shield dwarf wizard Freyja Eldviðri of Mithril Hall. A young noble lady in the court of Queen Dagnabbet, she was an highly gifted and intelligent practitioner of the Arcane., excelling in class and out-performing her peers. A model student even, if not for the fact that she was getting into drunken tavern brawls with her fellow student every bloody chance she'd get, or take said fellow beaten up students back to her quarters to get "patched up with special treatment". When she can find the time between her courtly duties, her studies, owning people in barfights or sleeping with her bloodied victims, she has quite the affinity for surface literature. All of it, whatever she can get her hands on from the people up above. It's exhilarating! Enlightening! And on occasions, quite lewd. Also Drow wine. That shit is worth dying for.
At some occasion, Queen Dagnabbet asked Freyja to accompany her diplomatic envoy to Baldur's Gate, not so much for her diplomatic skills, she's still a child by dwarven standards, but as an opportunity to learn and study from non-dwarven mages. The variation would be good for her magical development. Alas, not a month had pasted since they arrived to Baldur's Gate before captain Squidward showed up and abducted her.

Second time around, allow me to introduce you to Lady Esmeray Mizzrym of Menzoberranzan! 4th daughter of Miz'ri Mizzrym, matron mother of House Mizzrym, Esmeray's life was mired in politics from the day she was born. Thankfully for her, she inherited both her mother's stellar intellect and otherworldly beauty, without picking up her abhorrent fashion sense. With her life path already laid out before her, she served with distinction as one of Lolth's priestesses and earning great prestige for her house. Soon she was even considered to undergo The Ritual, the one that might hopefully produce an Draegloth. Quite unusual for a priestess her age, but not unheard of. To be allowed such glory and honour, to be the one to give birth to a new Draegloth, Esmeray didn't even know which leg to stand on. All she needed to do now was to recover an artifact of Lolth stolen by Duergar, a mission of vital importance and upon completion would erase any doubt she had Lolth favour.
Unfortunately, the Duergar where ready for them. Esmeray's expedition was ambushed and her forces scattered, herself together with one other from the expedition escaped into unknown territory, unable to return to Menzoberranzan without going through the Duergar. Through Lolth's blessing, or maybe the lack thereof, they ended up on the surface, very close to Baldur's Gate. They were able to sneak into the city and find shelter for maybe a day before you-know-what happens. What became of Esmeray's companion after the abduction is unknown. Probably died in the crash.

Finally, the devil of the high seas! Protector of the Northern Pearl! A pirate's worst nightmare! Ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereupon, Nazmiyya!
Nazmiyya grew up in the Tiefling community in Baldur's Gate, her life marked with hardship and poverty but also with the joy of close family. The whole Tiefling community was one big extended family. They had no one else but themselves. Not that the Baldurian were particularly racist to Tiefling, quite the opposite. Most Tieflings who moved to Baldur's Gate found themselves treated much better than other places, but without money and without higher education, you were nothing in Baldur's Gate, and their community was dirt poor.
However, life had other things in store for Nazmiyya. One night, making her way home from her warehouse work at the docks, she came across a few of her people being verbally abused by two drunken Elturian sailor. Immediately jumping to her people's defence, she wiped the floor with the sailors. The very next morning, she was approached by a half-orc, dressed in the same sailor's attire as the drunks from last night. He'd seen the debacle and was impressed enough that he wanted to offer her a spot on the Waterdhavian vessel The Northern Pearl. Having never been given such an opportunity before, she accepted on the spot and set sail the moment she'd said her goodbyes.
Of course, the Cthulhu monsters just had to attack Baldur's Gate when her ship had returned and Nazmiyya was visiting family. Woops.

Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Peace 😄

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Originally Posted by Dez
I love this thread.

Please keep more stories coming, ladies n gents. It is absolutely mesmerizing to read (especially when you include pictures)! <3


Wholeheartedly agree! It's so interesting to read everyones stories and see their characters! It makes me <3333

Originally Posted by Plupp

Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Peace 😄


I thoroughly enjoyed and thank you for pics I always love them!!!! Devils of the high sees Nazmiyya makes me want to punch a sailor and join a crew

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So I don't have the time, or interest really, to commit to a table top game these days. I haven't written up a detailed character background in years. These days I satisfy that itch with video games and make my characters around broad concepts rather than specific background. . .But there was a time. I enjoyed some of the character bios here, and fondly remember when I shared the same sort of enthusiasm as their creators.

I can't offer any DnD related vignettes unfortunately, but on the off chance it may be of some value to anyone I will offer the last two character backgrounds I came up with. They were both for Star Wars unfortunately, so slightly out of season for these forums, but who knows someone might like them. My buddy was super stoked when Edge of the Empire was released so we all got together to go through the red box set he received day 1.

My character was a droid technician with synthetic skin able to generally pass as human (heavily influenced by my early early childhood favorites, Alien, BladeRunner and D.A.R.Y.L -since I wasn't really interested in Star Wars.). . .

A tall Chiss stood idly at the docking bay of Telmori Station, a satellite facility belonging to the Loronar Corporation primarily concerned with emergent bio-engineering, his red eyes stared blankly through the opened moon roof gazing implacably upon the stars above. Beside him a human paced anxiously, casting furtive glances at a readout display which tracked the progress of a ship en route to the station.
‘What if something goes wrong?’
Fallon waited for the panic which inevitably accompanied such a question, the naked fear which it had inspired every time he had asked it of himself over the past several hours after learning of the Empire’s interest in his little project. When it failed to appear he afforded himself a moment to bask in relief, only then realizing how tense he’d become as he forced himself to relax. Tearing his eyes from the impenetrable darkness he turned to face the man who’d spoke.
The question had occurred to his assistant too late, in less than an hour’s time the delegation would disembark and then talks would begin. An hour after that he and Sylas would both be dead and the question would be moot. An IPV-1 was already within orbit of Esseles and had but to land.
‘You don’t understand Sylas, things have gone wrong. The Empire doesn’t negotiate, they aren’t coming here to make an offer so we can entertain competing bids. They aren’t going to entice us with a commission or ask us to head up an R and D department. They are coming to claim our property and in all likelihood end our lives since our usefulness will be at an end and all we could possibly be is a liability in the future.’
‘So. . .Why are we agreeing to meet them?’
‘What other choice have we? We might run, but I doubt we would make it far. We could fight, but not particularly well and not for very long. No, there is no happy ending in this for us, no scenario which will not end in our deaths.’
Fallon smiled at his assistant then, feeling pity for the man but none for himself, and rested a consoling hand upon his shoulder: ‘It will all be over soon.’
‘But we can fight -their ship can only hold a dozen crewmen and may be handled by as few as four. There are dozens of technicians, scientists and engineers here, and more than enough weapons. Loronar has seen to that!’
The Chiss merely shook his head in silence. He knew defiance wouldn’t go unremarked or unremembered. The Empire would return and exact payment for such insolence by enslaving the government for harboring terrorists, a government which had until that point remained neutral in the galactic civil war but would not be able to claim so after. The surviving staff of Telmori Station would be hunted down and extinguished along with their family in addition to anyone whom granted them aide or succor, as well as anyone unfortunate enough to get in the Imperial’s way. For all his talk of fighting, Fallon knew Sylas was a coward whom would gladly trade a dozen lives for the chance at saving his own.
Before Fallon could say anything, the computer console behind him began chirping its proximity alarm indicating the IPV was on an approach vector. Calmly, Fallon acknowledge the computer and replied to it with orders of his own.
‘Initiate lockdown protocols and maintain functionality: mark red seven and purge.’
Fallon noted the evident confusion written upon Sylas’ features but chose to ignore him while striding towards the 1MC to make a station wide announcement as the moon roof above him disappeared behind a blaster shield. He eyed the ship’s calculated time of arrival and noted it: Three minutes. It must have been wishful thinking which lead him to believe he had another hour to live.
No matter now.
‘This is Commander Hannibal Fallon speaking. It has been my pleasure to oversee your efforts these past five years. I decided shortly after coming to Esseles that I would live out my remaining days on this planet. It’s people, it’s culture, it’s pleasures and struggles have all become my own. There is no pleasure in what I do today, however. I learned this morning that our ARC program has gained the interest of the Galactic Empire. Shortly after I finish speaking, we will be boarded by Imperial agents seeking to seize all records and associated technologies. These next few minutes will be our last, do not squander in futile endeavors or attempts to escape the facility –I have secured all laboratories, chambers and cells so that each of you will be able to meet your ends with dignity. Communication channels remain open, so I suggest you call your loved ones and seek what solace you can in their company. Fallon out.’
Swiveling about in his chair, Fallon turned to face Sylas, who stood in shock at the news. ‘We’re all going to die,’ he managed to croak almost inaudibly and then, with a very audible scream, threw himself down the hall in search of some overlooked exit. The echo of his frantic shouts were soon stifled by the sound of the IPV entering the docking bay, a electrified blue containment shield sealing it in as it landed.
Rising from his seat Fallon walked briskly forward to meet the contingent within. He did not have to wait long before a rear hatch opened and a sub-Lieutenant emerged at the head of three other junior officers and a full dozen Stormtroopers. The soldiers ran past him and immediately began breaching maneuvers to secure the facility as the officers surrounded him, addressing Fallon without looking at him.
‘Where is the Artificial Replicant Cybernetics system?’
‘Fuck you,’ Fallon growled.
A scowl played over the sub-Lieutenant’s mouth which opened as if to speak, but was immediately silenced by the sound of klaxons blaring from every corner of the compound. Under normal circumstances the sound was supposed to signal egress, today it served no purpose. It was already too late to escape. Anger replaced annoyance upon the young officer’s face as it became bathed in the saturating crimson glow which accompanied the alarm. One of the officers, a mid-Shipman ran toward the facility’s computer arrays, another to the helm of the ship which they had arrived on.
Neither made it.
Taking a deep breath, Fallon steadied himself –it would be his last. Trace amounts of the nerve toxin FEX-m3 had been released into the station’s atmospheric circulation system with the first siren even as the computer began an exhaustive information purge to delete all locally stored information, registries and associated files including the core kernel of the network. Fallon’s spine arched violently backwards, breaking his vertebra in seventeen different places. His head hit the ground with so much momentum that his skull was split on impact, emptying its contents in a Rorschach splatter across the docking bay floor. Agonizing death came for everyone aboard the ill-fated Telmori Station, the only mercy was that it came swiftly.
The computer faithfully finished its task of deleting all drives than finally even the programming which governed its functionality, joining the others in a silent repose it would never awaken from. Without it, the life support systems shut down one by one, the lights powered off and the compound became a mausoleum.

From out of the darkness, stillness, and silence, a single figure emerged. Confused, cold and uncoordinated, it crawled over the corpses of its creators and sought to escape the crypt it had been birthed in, leaving a trail of blood and wreckage in its wake. It would be a trail followed by bounty hunters, Loromar, even the Empire itself, and would only get bloodier the further it went.


. . .and my girlfriend at the time played a human colonist with a background in medicine. I did her mock up since it was her first time attempting a role playing game.

Veri Orion

Imperials.

The impact of the words left Veri stunned, totally incapable of thought or action, as the sound of it reverberated off the staccato walls of her mind. She stood up from the alabaster computer console in a daze, her eyes staring blankly ahead of her registering nothing her steps heavy, slow, and blunt. The air parted around her like water, she felt languid and weightless as she maneuvered about the small compartment. Veri knew she had to combat the terror which threatened to overwhelm her. Nothing in her past or her studies had prepared her for this. All of her previous experience was academic in nature. This station was her first real foray into the galaxy. She had only just graduated from the Carosi XII Academy of Medicine, and in fact, the internship had been a requirement for one of the scholarships which funded her education.

War had always seemed so far away, such a remote thing, and nothing to do with her.

Veri narrowed her eyes as her vision focused, her breathing calmed as she drew out her breaths. Before long her heart slowed its racing rhythms approximating something approaching calm, but she could not summon any useful insight which might assist her. Veri gripped the back of her chair with hands which were no longer shaking, but could not get a grip on the situation she found herself in. No ideas were forthcoming, no possibilities, only anxiety barely constrained. The lighting suddenly seemed to her too bright, the sharp scent of antibiotic disinfectants overwhelmingly acrid. She needed air. She needed out. She needed…

Escape!

Veri moved toward the exit and was not at all surprised to find it unresponsive. She took stock of her surroundings wondering if anything could be of use… But found little. That entire wing was dedicated to the medcenter staff so they could deal with any injury or incident which might arise without having to solicit aide elsewhere. Unfortunately, everything was compartmentalized according to specialization. There were lasers in the surgical bay which might have been capable of cutting through the doors with sufficient time and calibration, but there were none with her there. There were durasteel saws and ceramic scalpels across the hall where autopsies might be performed if ever a casualty occurred, but they may as well have been on the far side of the galactic rim for all their proximity afforded her. Flight denied and the ability to escape deprived, her options were shrinking alongside her time to…

Hide.

Veri couldn’t have chosen a worse place to become imprisoned, but then chance had had as much to do with the decision as she. If the Imperials had struck a few second sooner or a few second later she would have been caught in the hall. Instead she was in the Serology clinic, little more than a diagnostic closet decorated with an robust variety of spectrum analysis equipment and computer consoles. The center of the room was dominated by a large bacta fed rejuvenation tank. There was also a GH-7 medical droid hung in a charging station, deactivated. It had been sold to them for next to nothing she’d been told with some regret, only too late did they discover why: It had been responsible for the death of some minor royal personage during childbirth. None of them trusted it’s programming enough to activate it, nor did she consider doing so now.

The bacta tank was currently unoccupied, to her knowledge it had never actually been used, bacta being as rare as it was expensive but not for long. As hiding places went it was far from ideal. For one it was transparent, for another, once inside she was truly trapped, however, where she could not possibly go unnoticed she might at least be ignored.

After all, what possible concern could such an individual in that state be? It didn’t occur to Veri that was no real reason for the Empire to have an interest in Temori Station in the first place.

Quickly stripping out of her clothing, Veri did her best to hide them behind the droid as she prepared the tank to accept immersion. It required a bit of a scramble to get over the walls of the tank, but she managed to do so with just enough time to fix the respiratory mask over her face before it re-sealed. Faintly, through the viscous fluid and the sound distorting glass she thought she could hear the sounds of alarms. Sedatives were joined with her oxygen and she breathed them in greedily. The regenerative process was supposed to be incredibly painful, newly formed nerves and rapidly re-knitting tissue could be incredibly sensitive. As sleep washed over her she glimpsed just for a moment the Serology clinic being bathed in a crimson haze, and then darkness claimed her.

Veri slept the sleep of the just, innocent and unafraid. Outside of the tank death stalked the halls of the facility. It claimed the living first, the artificial next and the facility itself last.

Telmori had been designed with failsafe protocols to ensure it could not be compromised to competitors. The Loronar Corporation, which had financed and overseen the construction of the station, operated under the assumption that due to the sensitive nature of the work which was scheduled to take place there, it would be more responsible to destroy everyone and all records within rather than risk them falling into hostile hands. It was meant to be a final solution, an option which only the station’s commander would be aware of or have control over.

So too would the girl in the bacta tank have followed the others into oblivion, but for the idle mischief of a single engineer charged with the facilities maintenance. His duties had been primarily concerned with preventative measures, but there was little in the way of real work to occupy his time. So he created some. Realizing the station’s electrical grid had no redundancy to accommodate the medical facilities in the event of a systems failure, he created a back-up battery relay which would ensure its operation in an emergency.

So the girl in the tank would live, but not as she had ever hoped or even suspected. The girl would climb out of the rejuvenation chamber, but a part of her would be left in there forever, such as her innocence and naïvete. It remained to be seen what would replace it.

Last edited by DistantStranger; 19/11/20 11:18 PM.
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These characters are exactly one of the things a RPG should produce. There'll be an audience for the Origins characters, but I'm clearly more interested in making my own characters and reading those created by others.

I like Freyja Eldviðri's interesting and very unconventional way of finding mates ...

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Originally Posted by A Clown


Tell us the name of the frog! Frog tamer!


The frog's name is Frog.

Gehk is... He's not a creative man.

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Originally Posted by DistantStranger
So I don't have the time, or interest really, to commit to a table top game these days. I haven't written up a detailed character background in years. These days I satisfy that itch with video games and make my characters around broad concepts rather than specific background. . .But there was a time. I enjoyed some of the character bios here, and fondly remember when I shared the same sort of enthusiasm as their creators.

I can't offer any DnD related vignettes unfortunately, but on the off chance it may be of some value to anyone I will offer the last two character backgrounds I came up with. They were both for Star Wars unfortunately, so slightly out of season for these forums, but who knows someone might like them. My buddy was super stoked when Edge of the Empire was released so we all got together to go through the red box set he received day 1.

My character was a droid technician with synthetic skin able to generally pass as human (heavily influenced by my early early childhood favorites, Alien, BladeRunner and D.A.R.Y.L -since I wasn't really interested in Star Wars.). . .

A tall Chiss stood idly at the docking bay of Telmori Station, a satellite facility belonging to the Loronar Corporation primarily concerned with emergent bio-engineering, his red eyes stared blankly through the opened moon roof gazing implacably upon the stars above. Beside him a human paced anxiously, casting furtive glances at a readout display which tracked the progress of a ship en route to the station.
‘What if something goes wrong?’
Fallon waited for the panic which inevitably accompanied such a question, the naked fear which it had inspired every time he had asked it of himself over the past several hours after learning of the Empire’s interest in his little project. When it failed to appear he afforded himself a moment to bask in relief, only then realizing how tense he’d become as he forced himself to relax. Tearing his eyes from the impenetrable darkness he turned to face the man who’d spoke.
The question had occurred to his assistant too late, in less than an hour’s time the delegation would disembark and then talks would begin. An hour after that he and Sylas would both be dead and the question would be moot. An IPV-1 was already within orbit of Esseles and had but to land.
‘You don’t understand Sylas, things have gone wrong. The Empire doesn’t negotiate, they aren’t coming here to make an offer so we can entertain competing bids. They aren’t going to entice us with a commission or ask us to head up an R and D department. They are coming to claim our property and in all likelihood end our lives since our usefulness will be at an end and all we could possibly be is a liability in the future.’
‘So. . .Why are we agreeing to meet them?’
‘What other choice have we? We might run, but I doubt we would make it far. We could fight, but not particularly well and not for very long. No, there is no happy ending in this for us, no scenario which will not end in our deaths.’
Fallon smiled at his assistant then, feeling pity for the man but none for himself, and rested a consoling hand upon his shoulder: ‘It will all be over soon.’
‘But we can fight -their ship can only hold a dozen crewmen and may be handled by as few as four. There are dozens of technicians, scientists and engineers here, and more than enough weapons. Loronar has seen to that!’
The Chiss merely shook his head in silence. He knew defiance wouldn’t go unremarked or unremembered. The Empire would return and exact payment for such insolence by enslaving the government for harboring terrorists, a government which had until that point remained neutral in the galactic civil war but would not be able to claim so after. The surviving staff of Telmori Station would be hunted down and extinguished along with their family in addition to anyone whom granted them aide or succor, as well as anyone unfortunate enough to get in the Imperial’s way. For all his talk of fighting, Fallon knew Sylas was a coward whom would gladly trade a dozen lives for the chance at saving his own.
Before Fallon could say anything, the computer console behind him began chirping its proximity alarm indicating the IPV was on an approach vector. Calmly, Fallon acknowledge the computer and replied to it with orders of his own.
‘Initiate lockdown protocols and maintain functionality: mark red seven and purge.’
Fallon noted the evident confusion written upon Sylas’ features but chose to ignore him while striding towards the 1MC to make a station wide announcement as the moon roof above him disappeared behind a blaster shield. He eyed the ship’s calculated time of arrival and noted it: Three minutes. It must have been wishful thinking which lead him to believe he had another hour to live.
No matter now.
‘This is Commander Hannibal Fallon speaking. It has been my pleasure to oversee your efforts these past five years. I decided shortly after coming to Esseles that I would live out my remaining days on this planet. It’s people, it’s culture, it’s pleasures and struggles have all become my own. There is no pleasure in what I do today, however. I learned this morning that our ARC program has gained the interest of the Galactic Empire. Shortly after I finish speaking, we will be boarded by Imperial agents seeking to seize all records and associated technologies. These next few minutes will be our last, do not squander in futile endeavors or attempts to escape the facility –I have secured all laboratories, chambers and cells so that each of you will be able to meet your ends with dignity. Communication channels remain open, so I suggest you call your loved ones and seek what solace you can in their company. Fallon out.’
Swiveling about in his chair, Fallon turned to face Sylas, who stood in shock at the news. ‘We’re all going to die,’ he managed to croak almost inaudibly and then, with a very audible scream, threw himself down the hall in search of some overlooked exit. The echo of his frantic shouts were soon stifled by the sound of the IPV entering the docking bay, a electrified blue containment shield sealing it in as it landed.
Rising from his seat Fallon walked briskly forward to meet the contingent within. He did not have to wait long before a rear hatch opened and a sub-Lieutenant emerged at the head of three other junior officers and a full dozen Stormtroopers. The soldiers ran past him and immediately began breaching maneuvers to secure the facility as the officers surrounded him, addressing Fallon without looking at him.
‘Where is the Artificial Replicant Cybernetics system?’
‘Fuck you,’ Fallon growled.
A scowl played over the sub-Lieutenant’s mouth which opened as if to speak, but was immediately silenced by the sound of klaxons blaring from every corner of the compound. Under normal circumstances the sound was supposed to signal egress, today it served no purpose. It was already too late to escape. Anger replaced annoyance upon the young officer’s face as it became bathed in the saturating crimson glow which accompanied the alarm. One of the officers, a mid-Shipman ran toward the facility’s computer arrays, another to the helm of the ship which they had arrived on.
Neither made it.
Taking a deep breath, Fallon steadied himself –it would be his last. Trace amounts of the nerve toxin FEX-m3 had been released into the station’s atmospheric circulation system with the first siren even as the computer began an exhaustive information purge to delete all locally stored information, registries and associated files including the core kernel of the network. Fallon’s spine arched violently backwards, breaking his vertebra in seventeen different places. His head hit the ground with so much momentum that his skull was split on impact, emptying its contents in a Rorschach splatter across the docking bay floor. Agonizing death came for everyone aboard the ill-fated Telmori Station, the only mercy was that it came swiftly.
The computer faithfully finished its task of deleting all drives than finally even the programming which governed its functionality, joining the others in a silent repose it would never awaken from. Without it, the life support systems shut down one by one, the lights powered off and the compound became a mausoleum.

From out of the darkness, stillness, and silence, a single figure emerged. Confused, cold and uncoordinated, it crawled over the corpses of its creators and sought to escape the crypt it had been birthed in, leaving a trail of blood and wreckage in its wake. It would be a trail followed by bounty hunters, Loromar, even the Empire itself, and would only get bloodier the further it went.


. . .and my girlfriend at the time played a human colonist with a background in medicine. I did her mock up since it was her first time attempting a role playing game.

Veri Orion

Imperials.

The impact of the words left Veri stunned, totally incapable of thought or action, as the sound of it reverberated off the staccato walls of her mind. She stood up from the alabaster computer console in a daze, her eyes staring blankly ahead of her registering nothing her steps heavy, slow, and blunt. The air parted around her like water, she felt languid and weightless as she maneuvered about the small compartment. Veri knew she had to combat the terror which threatened to overwhelm her. Nothing in her past or her studies had prepared her for this. All of her previous experience was academic in nature. This station was her first real foray into the galaxy. She had only just graduated from the Carosi XII Academy of Medicine, and in fact, the internship had been a requirement for one of the scholarships which funded her education.

War had always seemed so far away, such a remote thing, and nothing to do with her.

Veri narrowed her eyes as her vision focused, her breathing calmed as she drew out her breaths. Before long her heart slowed its racing rhythms approximating something approaching calm, but she could not summon any useful insight which might assist her. Veri gripped the back of her chair with hands which were no longer shaking, but could not get a grip on the situation she found herself in. No ideas were forthcoming, no possibilities, only anxiety barely constrained. The lighting suddenly seemed to her too bright, the sharp scent of antibiotic disinfectants overwhelmingly acrid. She needed air. She needed out. She needed…

Escape!

Veri moved toward the exit and was not at all surprised to find it unresponsive. She took stock of her surroundings wondering if anything could be of use… But found little. That entire wing was dedicated to the medcenter staff so they could deal with any injury or incident which might arise without having to solicit aide elsewhere. Unfortunately, everything was compartmentalized according to specialization. There were lasers in the surgical bay which might have been capable of cutting through the doors with sufficient time and calibration, but there were none with her there. There were durasteel saws and ceramic scalpels across the hall where autopsies might be performed if ever a casualty occurred, but they may as well have been on the far side of the galactic rim for all their proximity afforded her. Flight denied and the ability to escape deprived, her options were shrinking alongside her time to…

Hide.

Veri couldn’t have chosen a worse place to become imprisoned, but then chance had had as much to do with the decision as she. If the Imperials had struck a few second sooner or a few second later she would have been caught in the hall. Instead she was in the Serology clinic, little more than a diagnostic closet decorated with an robust variety of spectrum analysis equipment and computer consoles. The center of the room was dominated by a large bacta fed rejuvenation tank. There was also a GH-7 medical droid hung in a charging station, deactivated. It had been sold to them for next to nothing she’d been told with some regret, only too late did they discover why: It had been responsible for the death of some minor royal personage during childbirth. None of them trusted it’s programming enough to activate it, nor did she consider doing so now.

The bacta tank was currently unoccupied, to her knowledge it had never actually been used, bacta being as rare as it was expensive but not for long. As hiding places went it was far from ideal. For one it was transparent, for another, once inside she was truly trapped, however, where she could not possibly go unnoticed she might at least be ignored.

After all, what possible concern could such an individual in that state be? It didn’t occur to Veri that was no real reason for the Empire to have an interest in Temori Station in the first place.

Quickly stripping out of her clothing, Veri did her best to hide them behind the droid as she prepared the tank to accept immersion. It required a bit of a scramble to get over the walls of the tank, but she managed to do so with just enough time to fix the respiratory mask over her face before it re-sealed. Faintly, through the viscous fluid and the sound distorting glass she thought she could hear the sounds of alarms. Sedatives were joined with her oxygen and she breathed them in greedily. The regenerative process was supposed to be incredibly painful, newly formed nerves and rapidly re-knitting tissue could be incredibly sensitive. As sleep washed over her she glimpsed just for a moment the Serology clinic being bathed in a crimson haze, and then darkness claimed her.

Veri slept the sleep of the just, innocent and unafraid. Outside of the tank death stalked the halls of the facility. It claimed the living first, the artificial next and the facility itself last.

Telmori had been designed with failsafe protocols to ensure it could not be compromised to competitors. The Loronar Corporation, which had financed and overseen the construction of the station, operated under the assumption that due to the sensitive nature of the work which was scheduled to take place there, it would be more responsible to destroy everyone and all records within rather than risk them falling into hostile hands. It was meant to be a final solution, an option which only the station’s commander would be aware of or have control over.

So too would the girl in the bacta tank have followed the others into oblivion, but for the idle mischief of a single engineer charged with the facilities maintenance. His duties had been primarily concerned with preventative measures, but there was little in the way of real work to occupy his time. So he created some. Realizing the station’s electrical grid had no redundancy to accommodate the medical facilities in the event of a systems failure, he created a back-up battery relay which would ensure its operation in an emergency.

So the girl in the tank would live, but not as she had ever hoped or even suspected. The girl would climb out of the rejuvenation chamber, but a part of her would be left in there forever, such as her innocence and naïvete. It remained to be seen what would replace it.


I love it! Anything to do with dnd and character creation we want it so thank youuuu!

Originally Posted by SaurianDruid
Originally Posted by A Clown


Tell us the name of the frog! Frog tamer!


The frog's name is Frog.

Gehk is... He's not a creative man.


It's ok he has many other talents! We appreciate his creativity for frog! laugh

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Name: Esbern Virtanen
- The name means "Divine Bear", and the surname "River".
If taken literally, the meaning is: "Divine Bear of River", but Esbern himself likes to explain it like this: "The Divine Bear overcomes river's stormy stream".

Age: 23
- By half-elven standards, Esbern has come of age, but even for ordinary people he is still young and naive. For true elves he is still a child.

Race: Half-elf
- Father: Baldurian merchant; Mom: Wood Elf

[Linked Image]

More about Esbern under the spoiler


Features and preferences:
- Loves to read, every new book must be read;

- Is fond for dark magic, but never uses it for bad purposes;

- He is not ashamed of his race, but because of being born in Baldur's Gate he feels different from others, so he hides the sharp tips of his ears behind his hair, thus "becoming" an ordinary person;

- His name was given by his mother, as a tribute to nature and respect for Wood Elves, so that Es will always remember where his roots come from;

- Poorly versed in nature and survival, which is a real paradox;

- But in history and magic, he is better than many;

- Agilious, he is especially good at hiding;

- Not strong, but this compensated by his incredible charisma;

- Good at conversations. Doesn't intimidate, but convinces or deceives;

- Unfortunately, he is bad in insighting and attention, and therefore believes everyone;

- He is gullible, but not stupid, these are two different things. He tries to see good in people and wants to help in any way he can, but you shouldn't consider him as a fool. He is capable of quick inferences;

- Likes to play pranks and joke, sometimes behaves just like a child;

- Respects each person choice, without trying to teach life and morality. However, if he sees that the choice affects destructively, he will act;

- Has nothing against using the powers of the tadpoles, 'cos it helps in their path and does no harm at the moment;

- Good listener. Doesn't consider himself as a leader and perceives his party exclusively as friends. He wants to be followed because they trust him, not because there is no other choice;

- Can talk with animals and adores them with all of his soul;

- Thinks of himself least;

- Sincere in everything he does;

- He can use dark magic, but he began to study necromancy quite recently, that’s why still poorly understands it and often confuses spells. This leads to funny but not dangerous situations.

Character story:

Esbern was born and raised in Baldur's Gate. His father met a beautiful wood elf in one of his trade travels and persuaded her to leave in the big city. As a result of their union, little Es was born.

From a young age, the boy was drawn to magic, showing interest in any kind of it. Including the "dark" one. Despite other people's prohibitions and instructions, boy sincerely didn't understand how one magic differs from another, if it is used correctly and does not harm anyone. So, in secret from everyone, Esbern began to learn the dangerous magic.

While boy was growing up, he continued to help his father in trade, and spent his free time in local bookstores. Having reached the age of majority, Esbern realized that he couldn't continue to stay in his native places: he was drawn to knowledge. It was too dangerous to practice dark magic in Baldur's Gate, and he wanted to learn the necromancy. At the age of twenty-two, he left his father's house, going for the first time on a solo journey in order to find a teacher and learn ‘the magic of the dead.’

Unfortunately, he was unable to advance far due to unexpected attack of the illithids who captured him on their ship.
So thats how Esbern's story began.

Main goals: Get rid of tadpoles; help friends; prove that dark magic can be used for good; learn necromancy.

His life quote is the words of his mother: ‘Remember, Esbern, now you are just a little bear cub for whom the rapid streams of life are too exciting and dangerous, but one day you will become a strong bear, able to overcome even the most powerful river flow. Remember, my little boy, no matter what difficulties you face, determination and desire to achieve your goal will help you reach the very end.’

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[Linked Image] [Linked Image]

[Linked Image] [Linked Image]

[Linked Image] [Linked Image]


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Originally Posted by DistantStranger
So I don't have the time, or interest really, to commit to a table top game these days. I haven't written up a detailed character background in years. These days I satisfy that itch with video games and make my characters around broad concepts rather than specific background. . .But there was a time. I enjoyed some of the character bios here, and fondly remember when I shared the same sort of enthusiasm as their creators.

I can't offer any DnD related vignettes unfortunately, but on the off chance it may be of some value to anyone I will offer the last two character backgrounds I came up with. They were both for Star Wars unfortunately, so slightly out of season for these forums, but who knows someone might like them. My buddy was super stoked when Edge of the Empire was released so we all got together to go through the red box set he received day 1.

My character was a droid technician with synthetic skin able to generally pass as human (heavily influenced by my early early childhood favorites, Alien, BladeRunner and D.A.R.Y.L -since I wasn't really interested in Star Wars.). . .

A tall Chiss stood idly at the docking bay of Telmori Station, a satellite facility belonging to the Loronar Corporation primarily concerned with emergent bio-engineering, his red eyes stared blankly through the opened moon roof gazing implacably upon the stars above. Beside him a human paced anxiously, casting furtive glances at a readout display which tracked the progress of a ship en route to the station.
‘What if something goes wrong?’
Fallon waited for the panic which inevitably accompanied such a question, the naked fear which it had inspired every time he had asked it of himself over the past several hours after learning of the Empire’s interest in his little project. When it failed to appear he afforded himself a moment to bask in relief, only then realizing how tense he’d become as he forced himself to relax. Tearing his eyes from the impenetrable darkness he turned to face the man who’d spoke.
The question had occurred to his assistant too late, in less than an hour’s time the delegation would disembark and then talks would begin. An hour after that he and Sylas would both be dead and the question would be moot. An IPV-1 was already within orbit of Esseles and had but to land.
‘You don’t understand Sylas, things have gone wrong. The Empire doesn’t negotiate, they aren’t coming here to make an offer so we can entertain competing bids. They aren’t going to entice us with a commission or ask us to head up an R and D department. They are coming to claim our property and in all likelihood end our lives since our usefulness will be at an end and all we could possibly be is a liability in the future.’
‘So. . .Why are we agreeing to meet them?’
‘What other choice have we? We might run, but I doubt we would make it far. We could fight, but not particularly well and not for very long. No, there is no happy ending in this for us, no scenario which will not end in our deaths.’
Fallon smiled at his assistant then, feeling pity for the man but none for himself, and rested a consoling hand upon his shoulder: ‘It will all be over soon.’
‘But we can fight -their ship can only hold a dozen crewmen and may be handled by as few as four. There are dozens of technicians, scientists and engineers here, and more than enough weapons. Loronar has seen to that!’
The Chiss merely shook his head in silence. He knew defiance wouldn’t go unremarked or unremembered. The Empire would return and exact payment for such insolence by enslaving the government for harboring terrorists, a government which had until that point remained neutral in the galactic civil war but would not be able to claim so after. The surviving staff of Telmori Station would be hunted down and extinguished along with their family in addition to anyone whom granted them aide or succor, as well as anyone unfortunate enough to get in the Imperial’s way. For all his talk of fighting, Fallon knew Sylas was a coward whom would gladly trade a dozen lives for the chance at saving his own.
Before Fallon could say anything, the computer console behind him began chirping its proximity alarm indicating the IPV was on an approach vector. Calmly, Fallon acknowledge the computer and replied to it with orders of his own.
‘Initiate lockdown protocols and maintain functionality: mark red seven and purge.’
Fallon noted the evident confusion written upon Sylas’ features but chose to ignore him while striding towards the 1MC to make a station wide announcement as the moon roof above him disappeared behind a blaster shield. He eyed the ship’s calculated time of arrival and noted it: Three minutes. It must have been wishful thinking which lead him to believe he had another hour to live.
No matter now.
‘This is Commander Hannibal Fallon speaking. It has been my pleasure to oversee your efforts these past five years. I decided shortly after coming to Esseles that I would live out my remaining days on this planet. It’s people, it’s culture, it’s pleasures and struggles have all become my own. There is no pleasure in what I do today, however. I learned this morning that our ARC program has gained the interest of the Galactic Empire. Shortly after I finish speaking, we will be boarded by Imperial agents seeking to seize all records and associated technologies. These next few minutes will be our last, do not squander in futile endeavors or attempts to escape the facility –I have secured all laboratories, chambers and cells so that each of you will be able to meet your ends with dignity. Communication channels remain open, so I suggest you call your loved ones and seek what solace you can in their company. Fallon out.’
Swiveling about in his chair, Fallon turned to face Sylas, who stood in shock at the news. ‘We’re all going to die,’ he managed to croak almost inaudibly and then, with a very audible scream, threw himself down the hall in search of some overlooked exit. The echo of his frantic shouts were soon stifled by the sound of the IPV entering the docking bay, a electrified blue containment shield sealing it in as it landed.
Rising from his seat Fallon walked briskly forward to meet the contingent within. He did not have to wait long before a rear hatch opened and a sub-Lieutenant emerged at the head of three other junior officers and a full dozen Stormtroopers. The soldiers ran past him and immediately began breaching maneuvers to secure the facility as the officers surrounded him, addressing Fallon without looking at him.
‘Where is the Artificial Replicant Cybernetics system?’
‘Fuck you,’ Fallon growled.
A scowl played over the sub-Lieutenant’s mouth which opened as if to speak, but was immediately silenced by the sound of klaxons blaring from every corner of the compound. Under normal circumstances the sound was supposed to signal egress, today it served no purpose. It was already too late to escape. Anger replaced annoyance upon the young officer’s face as it became bathed in the saturating crimson glow which accompanied the alarm. One of the officers, a mid-Shipman ran toward the facility’s computer arrays, another to the helm of the ship which they had arrived on.
Neither made it.
Taking a deep breath, Fallon steadied himself –it would be his last. Trace amounts of the nerve toxin FEX-m3 had been released into the station’s atmospheric circulation system with the first siren even as the computer began an exhaustive information purge to delete all locally stored information, registries and associated files including the core kernel of the network. Fallon’s spine arched violently backwards, breaking his vertebra in seventeen different places. His head hit the ground with so much momentum that his skull was split on impact, emptying its contents in a Rorschach splatter across the docking bay floor. Agonizing death came for everyone aboard the ill-fated Telmori Station, the only mercy was that it came swiftly.
The computer faithfully finished its task of deleting all drives than finally even the programming which governed its functionality, joining the others in a silent repose it would never awaken from. Without it, the life support systems shut down one by one, the lights powered off and the compound became a mausoleum.

From out of the darkness, stillness, and silence, a single figure emerged. Confused, cold and uncoordinated, it crawled over the corpses of its creators and sought to escape the crypt it had been birthed in, leaving a trail of blood and wreckage in its wake. It would be a trail followed by bounty hunters, Loromar, even the Empire itself, and would only get bloodier the further it went.


. . .and my girlfriend at the time played a human colonist with a background in medicine. I did her mock up since it was her first time attempting a role playing game.

Veri Orion

Imperials.

The impact of the words left Veri stunned, totally incapable of thought or action, as the sound of it reverberated off the staccato walls of her mind. She stood up from the alabaster computer console in a daze, her eyes staring blankly ahead of her registering nothing her steps heavy, slow, and blunt. The air parted around her like water, she felt languid and weightless as she maneuvered about the small compartment. Veri knew she had to combat the terror which threatened to overwhelm her. Nothing in her past or her studies had prepared her for this. All of her previous experience was academic in nature. This station was her first real foray into the galaxy. She had only just graduated from the Carosi XII Academy of Medicine, and in fact, the internship had been a requirement for one of the scholarships which funded her education.

War had always seemed so far away, such a remote thing, and nothing to do with her.

Veri narrowed her eyes as her vision focused, her breathing calmed as she drew out her breaths. Before long her heart slowed its racing rhythms approximating something approaching calm, but she could not summon any useful insight which might assist her. Veri gripped the back of her chair with hands which were no longer shaking, but could not get a grip on the situation she found herself in. No ideas were forthcoming, no possibilities, only anxiety barely constrained. The lighting suddenly seemed to her too bright, the sharp scent of antibiotic disinfectants overwhelmingly acrid. She needed air. She needed out. She needed…

Escape!

Veri moved toward the exit and was not at all surprised to find it unresponsive. She took stock of her surroundings wondering if anything could be of use… But found little. That entire wing was dedicated to the medcenter staff so they could deal with any injury or incident which might arise without having to solicit aide elsewhere. Unfortunately, everything was compartmentalized according to specialization. There were lasers in the surgical bay which might have been capable of cutting through the doors with sufficient time and calibration, but there were none with her there. There were durasteel saws and ceramic scalpels across the hall where autopsies might be performed if ever a casualty occurred, but they may as well have been on the far side of the galactic rim for all their proximity afforded her. Flight denied and the ability to escape deprived, her options were shrinking alongside her time to…

Hide.

Veri couldn’t have chosen a worse place to become imprisoned, but then chance had had as much to do with the decision as she. If the Imperials had struck a few second sooner or a few second later she would have been caught in the hall. Instead she was in the Serology clinic, little more than a diagnostic closet decorated with an robust variety of spectrum analysis equipment and computer consoles. The center of the room was dominated by a large bacta fed rejuvenation tank. There was also a GH-7 medical droid hung in a charging station, deactivated. It had been sold to them for next to nothing she’d been told with some regret, only too late did they discover why: It had been responsible for the death of some minor royal personage during childbirth. None of them trusted it’s programming enough to activate it, nor did she consider doing so now.

The bacta tank was currently unoccupied, to her knowledge it had never actually been used, bacta being as rare as it was expensive but not for long. As hiding places went it was far from ideal. For one it was transparent, for another, once inside she was truly trapped, however, where she could not possibly go unnoticed she might at least be ignored.

After all, what possible concern could such an individual in that state be? It didn’t occur to Veri that was no real reason for the Empire to have an interest in Temori Station in the first place.

Quickly stripping out of her clothing, Veri did her best to hide them behind the droid as she prepared the tank to accept immersion. It required a bit of a scramble to get over the walls of the tank, but she managed to do so with just enough time to fix the respiratory mask over her face before it re-sealed. Faintly, through the viscous fluid and the sound distorting glass she thought she could hear the sounds of alarms. Sedatives were joined with her oxygen and she breathed them in greedily. The regenerative process was supposed to be incredibly painful, newly formed nerves and rapidly re-knitting tissue could be incredibly sensitive. As sleep washed over her she glimpsed just for a moment the Serology clinic being bathed in a crimson haze, and then darkness claimed her.

Veri slept the sleep of the just, innocent and unafraid. Outside of the tank death stalked the halls of the facility. It claimed the living first, the artificial next and the facility itself last.

Telmori had been designed with failsafe protocols to ensure it could not be compromised to competitors. The Loronar Corporation, which had financed and overseen the construction of the station, operated under the assumption that due to the sensitive nature of the work which was scheduled to take place there, it would be more responsible to destroy everyone and all records within rather than risk them falling into hostile hands. It was meant to be a final solution, an option which only the station’s commander would be aware of or have control over.

So too would the girl in the bacta tank have followed the others into oblivion, but for the idle mischief of a single engineer charged with the facilities maintenance. His duties had been primarily concerned with preventative measures, but there was little in the way of real work to occupy his time. So he created some. Realizing the station’s electrical grid had no redundancy to accommodate the medical facilities in the event of a systems failure, he created a back-up battery relay which would ensure its operation in an emergency.

So the girl in the tank would live, but not as she had ever hoped or even suspected. The girl would climb out of the rejuvenation chamber, but a part of her would be left in there forever, such as her innocence and naïvete. It remained to be seen what would replace it.

That's some pretty good stuff for something you weren't "really interested" in smile
I'm actually very interested in Star Wars and I'm not sure I would have done better.

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Originally Posted by RinRan
Name: Esbern Virtanen
- The name means "Divine Bear", and the surname "River".
If taken literally, the meaning is: "Divine Bear of River", but Esbern himself likes to explain it like this: "The Divine Bear overcomes river's stormy stream".

More about Esbern under the spoiler


Features and preferences:
- Loves to read, every new book must be read;



Absolutey adorableeee! So glad theres another bookworm!!!

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I wanna bump up this forum because 1 I loved everyones stories and characters and 2 patch 3 has been out so I'm excited to see new folks! kiss

Joined: May 2010
Location: Oxford
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Originally Posted by A Clown
I wanna bump up this forum because 1 I loved everyones stories and characters and 2 patch 3 has been out so I'm excited to see new folks! kiss

Don't bump. Feel free to add new stories but pointless bumps are likely to be deleted.

As for me, I still haven't decided yet, but it'll likely be a case of the wrong person in the wrong place in the wrong time, as all my characters are.


J'aime le fromage.
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Originally Posted by vometia
Originally Posted by A Clown
I wanna bump up this forum because 1 I loved everyones stories and characters and 2 patch 3 has been out so I'm excited to see new folks! kiss

Don't bump. Feel free to add new stories but pointless bumps are likely to be deleted.

As for me, I still haven't decided yet, but it'll likely be a case of the wrong person in the wrong place in the wrong time, as all my characters are.


Ahh so sorry didnt realise I shall keep that in mind thank you! smile

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Hey, that gives me another idea for the name of Gehk's frog: Bumper !

Joined: May 2010
Location: Oxford
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Originally Posted by Argyle
Hey, that gives me another idea for the name of Gehk's frog: Bumper !

Grr etc.

I suppose "Grr'etc" would be a good name for a moody githyanki.


J'aime le fromage.
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Abelard is a serial killer who decided that if he wants to stay alive he will have to find a line of work, where his lifestyle is both profitable and legal, which is why he became a sailor. Leaving behind all his ties to his past life he fled Waterdeep after the noose started to tighten around his neck concerning the ritualistic dismemberment of a dozen beggars. He assumed a new identity to avoid capture and for a decade he served on the Admiral's Pride, with the most famous pirate-hunter crew of Baldur's Gate. Fitting in was easy, and the work provided him with the freedom he always craved, and over the years he distinguished himself as the most driven of the crew, picking off pirates from afar with his crossbow and always being the first to board enemy ships. He racked up the highest bodycount in the past decade, which not only made him into a celebrated icon of the Sword Coast, but also provided him a reputation he could hide behind, so Abelard thought it safe to return to Baldurs Gate as a... citizen.
With a decade's worth of his wages, and the experience that would be the envy of the most battlehardened soldier, Abelard planned to set up his own mercenary company before he found himself in a strange dark pod without being able to move...

Oh I forgot to add:

Age: 35
Race: Human (what else? lol)
Class: Ranger
Favored enemy: Humanoids
Deity: Ilmater

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