A Land Far Away

I like to think I make fairly eclectic characters, and I hope in some way the best of them prove as entertaining to others to interact with as they do to play. Admittedly half of them start out as "I want to make a [race] [class]" and I go from there, but the other half I work out their history and personality first. I thought I'd share some backgrounds of the second type who never made it to the sweet spot of 4th level (Soppi being the only character I've had that's made it to 4th)...

Ashanan Harvester: Prologue
"I am Ashanan Harvester, the famous bard. Perhaps you have heard of me?" His name, his shame. He had considered changing it. Who would know? But no. That would be an action born of fear. To keep his name, the link to his past, that would show his confidence. His self-worth. And that's what drives the ladies crazy after all, right?

He was so beautiful growing up. His father joked that he must have been born from a secret affair his mother had with an elf. The joke was always with a shadow of pain. Ashanan knew there was no affair, he saw that his father still loved his dead wife, even after all these years. Died giving birth to her beautiful son.

Ashanan could also see his father had been handsome once. But years toiling the fields in the sun had dried him out, turned his skin to dark wrinkled leather. Harvester.

That was not the life for Ashanan. He did not want to become an old prune. He did not want to lose his looks and the softness of his skin of which he was so proud. He shirked his duties, which made his father tired and angry at the same time, but his father could never stay angry at him for long, could never raise a hand in punishment.

When his fourteenth birthday came around, Ashanan's father knew he could never apprentice the child to just anyone. He approached the village's sole bard, hat in hand, and begged him to take Ashanan under his wing. Seeing Ashanan's natural talent, the bard accepted.

Excited, Ashanan moved in with the old lutist. He had heard the tales the bard had sung and adventures such as those excited him. Then he discovered what his training entailed. Books! Books, books and more books! So much reading and learning! He felt the all the knowledge would leak from his ears, so much he had to absorb. Somehow, despite his disinterest, he managed to absorb much of what he was taught. The musical training was more to his liking. He picked up on the lute quickly and his voice needed little training.

After a year of training, Ashanan had grown bored and wanted to leave. Then the weapon training was incorporated into his studies. It was just a wooden rapier to start with, but it was so much fun! He felt both elated and sad when he swiped a bird out of the air, breaking it neck.

Two more years of training and Ashanan had decided he knew everything there was to know about being a bard. And then he effected a dim light from his music. Magic!

Several months before his eighteenth birthday his mentor declared him as ready for the world as he would be. As a gift he gave Ashanan an old lute and and old rapier, bow and chain shirt from his travelling days. His father could afford no gifts.

He played in the local tavern for only several weeks, playing yokel songs for yokels. He had rolled in the hay with most of the local pudgy milk maids and shepardesses over the past several years and Ashanan was getting bored.

Ashanan said farewell to his father, aging prematurely. Ashanan said farewell to his mentor, who had had come to think of more as a father. Ashanan said farewell to his village. Ashanan said farewell to village life. Ashanan said hello to his future, filled with fame, riches and women.

---

The door thudded with a roar, dust fell from the rafters. Ashanan and the mature woman with full breasts lying naked next to him in bed both sat up suddenly.

"My husband!" The woman whispered loudly, eyes wide in fear. "Quickly! Hide!"

"What?!" Responded Ashanan. "You're married?" Jumping naked out of bed.

"Of course! I'm the innkeep's wife! Why else do you think I was tending bar?" She shot back as Ashanan was pulling on his britches and started gathering his things. Twice more the door thudded with an unintelligable roar, straining against the thin wooden bar set across the door.

The bar snapped and the door slammed open on the third thud, cutting off Ashanan's reply. The barkeep, a giant of a man, stood in the doorway, club in hand, blocking off retreat. Doors in the hallway opened slightly so people in the other rooms could spy on the spectacle taking place.

"Look..." Started Ashanan, "I didn't know she was your wife!"

The innkeep took a step forward, menance in his eyes. Ashanan grabbed his money pouch and moved towards his last item, the lute gifted to him by his master.

"So, how about you pay me for tonight's performance and I'll move on?" Ashanan offered.

The man roared and started running towards him, club raised. Ashanan abandoned his lute and jumped through the window, rolled down the eaves and tumbled to his feet. Then he had to duck seconds later as the club flew at his head.

Ashanan looked up an laughed at the red face and bulging eyes of the innkeep of this, the latest hick village in a series of hick villages he had passed on his journey since leaving his own hick village. Then he turned his heel and ran.

Why did he end up having to run from so many villages? It's not like it was his fault that the women kept throwing themselves at him. If the menfolk didn't want to lose their wives, sisters or fiancees to him, perhaps they should have taken better care of them?

At the small port, he lept the several feet to the handily departing ship and tossed a gold coin to the bewildered man on deck. "Where are we going?"

Biting the coin, the man replied "Rivermoot."

One step closer to Silverymoon and my fortune.

[Name Long Since Forgotten] (One of my first ALFA NWN1 characters)
It was dark and she was scared. By the light of Selune she could barely even see the closest tree. She had been wandering through the forest for hours, hopelessly lost. There was a growl behind her and she turned, just in time to see the lone wolf close on her. She frozen in fear, staring into the yellow eyes of her predator. Just as it tensed to leap, an arrow sprouted from its flank, pitching it sideways. Another arrow sprouted and it fell on its side and died.

From her right, an orc carrying a bow materialised from between two trees, his footsteps making no noise in the underbrush.

Her village and the orc tribe had an uneasy truce. They did not wander so far into the forest and the orcs stayed away from the farmlands. To run into one now must mean she had gone in exactly the wrong direction.

----

She was in her early thirties and still a virgin despite being the daughter of the richest landowner in the village. It didn't help that she was hideously ugly, as even as her cruel father would remind her.

The orc ranger surprised her by offering to lead her back towards the village. He surprised her again when he expressed an interest in her. She gave herself to her saviour all too willingly.

----

4 months later
The villagers returned victorious. The orc tribe burned, all the orcs slain. The only man ever to express an interest in her dead. The father of the child growing in her womb.

She had proven a coward in the end. Too scared to tell the truth when her father had declared her raped and demanded revenge, stirring the blood of the village.

----

7 years later
She had brought him up as best she could. Loved him with all of her heart and had poured that love upon him.

Finally, dying of an illness that her father could have afforded to get cured, she told her son the truth of his father.

----

2 years later
The blow blacked out his vision and set his head ringing. He stared down briefly at his light green hands and then at the floor.

"You are never to play with the other village boys again!" His grandfather yelled, once he had pulled him back into the farmstead by his hair. "You are a filthy monster! Born of evil and you will never be any good!"

"I'm sorry, grandfather" he replied, his accent like that of the other kids in the village. "I didn't mean to break his arm -" The rest of his reply broken by another blow to his head.

"I am too kind to you. I have raised you as best I could after your whore of a mother died, but the evil is in your blood. I do not deserve this punishment from the gods. Get out of my sight!"

----

5 years later
After a kick to the head from a horse, his grandfather quickly declined in health and died. The rest of the village was nowhere to been seen as he buried his last relative next to his mother, dead 7 years now. Before he returned from the lonely funeral, the farmstead was already well ablaze. Most of the village stood idly by, watching the bonfire and back at him with hate in their eyes, daring him to say or do anything about it.

He sold the land for a much smaller amount than it was worth. What else could he do? Now that his grandfather was dead, who was there to hold back the villagers?

----

He found himself in Waterdeep. Never before had he seen such a wide range of people. Elfs, dwarves, halflings... and others like him - green bloods. He found he could relax amongst these inferior races, unlike how he would have to be on his best behaviour among the humans for fear of hurting them.

He had no skill apart from cleaning the stables and plowing the fields, and there was not much call for that in the city.

From the books his mother had read him, he had always wanted to be the paladin. The hero that would protect the weak and smite the wicked. But he could not be a paladin. He had orc blood in his vein, not the flowing golden hair, pointy nose, blue eyes and perfect teeth of the paladins. No paladin order would accept one so obviously evil. Only humans could be so righteous. He was not worthy. So he followed his dream as best he could. He apprenticed himself to a half orc and learned to fight. Even if not blessed by the gods, he could still do what he could to help the innocent.

----

4 years later
"How far are you going?"

"To Triboar, please sir." he replied, dipping his eyes in respect to the human coach driver.