With this blog, I hope to offer some example characters I have made at times. For the last several years, I have been playing quite a bit of
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game. The following character was made to play in the
Skull & Shackles Adventure Path and used the Background Generator found in
Ultimate Campaign (and replicated in the official
Pathfinder Reference Document and
D20 PFSRD).
When I make a character I typically start with a pretty rough idea of the character, establishing the race and class I am interested in playing. From there, I will roll up a random background and see if there are any events in it that suggest certain stats or skills and make note of those. When I write up my background story, I try to integrate as much of the generated information as possible. If I get stuck on any items, I will make a note of them and come back and see if those missed pieces work in naturally once the story is generated.
This particular character is a little out of the box, as I had recently gotten the book,
Bastards of Golarion and wanted to use some of the information there to create a dwarven character that had a bit of the sea in him. In order to achieve this, I used the rules presented for Undine and swapped out a couple of traits that gave him a more dwarven feel. Another thing to note is that when working with dwarves, I tend to borrow heavily for Norse names or Norse words and weave bits of real mythologies into the stories as well. Some folks might notice a similarity between Skegg's father's name and
Manannán mac Lir, which is intentional.
This character background is the type I mention in a previous post. If your players are struggling with generating a background story for their character, I generally recommend looking to heroic myths and legends from various world cultures for inspiration. They can be wonderful source material and no one is going to mind borrowing heavily from them. After arranging for his parents to be well cared
for, Skegg arranged travel to The Shackles, where his heart called to him. He
was certain that Besmara would provide the next clue to finding his father. He
came to a tavern in port in search of his fate. He’s not sure how many drinks
he had, but they quickly went to his head and he passed out on the table before
he found his destiny—unless it lay in the bottom of a bottle. Then again, maybe
he found his destiny after all...
Skeggbitr
Víðirsen
Shortly after his
mother, Helga Hjordisdóttir, was betrothed to Rénar Særúlfsen, she was visited
by Mannan Víðirgott, a noble marid, who seduced the dwarven woman. When she
grew heavy with child, months before taking her wedding vows to Rénar, the
settlement was aghast and her betrothed accused her of infidelity. According to
laws and traditions, she was to take the trial of water and was bound in metal
shackles and cast into the sea. Mannann would not let the sea claim her, so he
rusted away her bindings and washed her ashore along with many treasures from
the deep. Those assembled blamed shoddy craftmenship and again bound her, this
time with sturdier chains and again cast her into the sea. As before, Mannann
corroded away her bindings and cast her gently on the beach, again with various
treasures. Outraged, Rénar bound her in heavy rope and tied many stones to her
and personally cast Helga into the sea. However, this time Mannann appeared
from the waves with Helga in his arms.
“Twice
have I tried to pay for the maiden hood I took and return this woman, unharmed.
I know well your laws, and should one pass a trial alive, they are unguilty of
their crime and so it is with this woman. But you, Rénar, son of Særúlf, son of
Krellrað, son of Vetrsvinnr Banahǫgg, first of your line to come to this land
with my help and guidance, put your pride above the laws of your people. From
this day forward, you will find the sea no friend of yours. No fish will come
to your net, no current will bear your weight, no wind will fill your sail. Any
boat that carries you will be like doomed, as will any man or woman who harbors
you. You will be Vetnóvnir and yours
will be a hard life.
“To
the rest of you, your nets will remain barren for a year and a day. Fogs will
swallow your boats and lead them astray and no ship, from near or far, shall
find your port. You are thusly cursed for allowing your laws to be bent.
“As
for the woman, her way will be made clear, and, as you wished, the waves will
carry her far from you. She will bear forth a son and she will know love and
happiness all the days of her life.”
With
that, he crashed, like a mighty wave, into the ocean, washing Helga and the
treasures away. The ships that were moored at the harbor were dashed upon the
shore. By Mannann’s will, Helga was carried safely to the shores of Cassomir –
Mannann’s treasures were tucked away within her clothes, his gift to her. A
young brewer, also recently arrived in Cassomir, saw her body wash upon the
shores and went down to see if she was well. Enkí Beorrbar fell in love the
moment he saw her upon the beach and would eventually take her as his wife.
Four
months after being washed ashore, Helga gave birth to Mannann’s son, giving him
the name Vilífjor. The nursemaid was terrified of the child – his blueish-green
coloring was an ill omen and the plumb body resembled that of a drowned corpse.
His ears looked like fins and he had webbing between his fingers and toes. The
babe was still and the nurse feared he was dead. However, he gasped for air and
let out a terrible cry and the nurse nearly dropped the child.
Helga
never shared with Vilífjor who his father was or that her people had attempted
to kill her, preferring to tell him that her ship had sunk after colliding with
a reef. When she washed ashore, she was full with child.
The treasures Mannann
provided took care of the three of them for quite some time, during which time
Enkí opened a small brewery, making his family ales and spirits. Unfortunately,
he took to gambling and eventually, in order to clear his debts, he was forced
to give over the secrets of his brew. He and Helga had the first of their
children, a son named Atferðþol. Vilífjor was on the cusp of manhood and felt
obligated to help take care of his younger brother. The sea often called to
him, and Vilífjor found that his natural talents made him useful on the docks
of Cassomir. It wasn’t long until he found himself hired as a seaman on the
Merchant Vessel The Lady Amstone. He
kept enough to make a meager living for himself and gave the rest to Enkí and
his mother.
This was the first of
many ships Vilífjor worked on. But, where ever the sea took him during the
nearly twenty years, he would always come back to Cassomir. While he was at
sea, his sister Sjórsilfra, was born. While on the Elven ship, Loraquistriel¸ his last post, he was
unable to keep his promise to his family. The ship was attacked by orcen brigands.
It was not the first attack he had been part of, but it was also his
introduction to personal firearms. He took a fatal shot to his chest and was
tossed overboard with the rest of his crew.
Mannann felt his son
call out with the last bit of energy he had, but it was too late. Vilífjor was
dead, sinking to the bottom of the sea. While Mannann possessed a great deal of
power, he could do nothing to restore his son to life. He appealed to the Gods,
but only Besmara, the Pirate Queen, answered him. In return for Vilífjor’s
life, Besmara demanded that Mannann bind himself to her, serving as her First
Mate. She also insisted that the boy’s soul belonged to her. Mannann had lived
the first part of his existence as a slave and cherished his freedom, but his
only son meant more to him. He agreed.
A week later, Vilífjor
washed on the shore of a small-uninhabited island. He woke to a small monkey
knocking on his head, as if it were a coconut or gourd. Vilífjor snapped open
his eyes and shot out his hand, meaning to grab the beast by the scruff of its
neck. Instead, the monkey bit him and fled, laughing. Vilífjor pushed himself
from the beach, seeing his flesh for the first time since his death. His skin
had darkened, and looked like the sea itself, no longer did he look like a
drowned corpse. He found a small inlet where he could gaze at his reflection.
His copper hair was matted and tangled and looked like seaweed. Salt rimed the
three short braids of his beard.
Again, he heard the
laughing of the monkey. Vilífjor spun around and charged after the creature,
travelling farther and farther into the wilds of the island until he finally
came to a crudely constructed hut. In it, he found the recently dead remains of
a human male. Among the corpse’s possessions were his journal, a book titled The Sea Queen’s Plunder which detailed
the faith of Besmara, and a wooden holy symbol.
By the light of the fading sun, Vilífjor read the book. His soul was
like the sea itself, and Besmara held a tidal pull on it. As night came, the
monkey, who Vilífjor had taken to calling Erfiðr, a word meaning troublesome in
his native tongue, tugged at his sleeves, urging the dwarf to leave the hut. Vilífjor
gathered up the possessions and ran back to the beach. While he set about to
make a fire, Erfiðr went and gathered food for the two of them.
Vilífjor slept, his
belly filled, listening to the sounds of the waves. His mind was troubled and
he dreamt of the depths, remembering what he could not remember – he was a dead
man walking. Something in him grew sick and he woke to Erfiðr trying to pry
open his eyelids. The dwarf snapped awake and was aware of a shuffling coming
from the wilds. He had no weapon with which to defend himself and prayed
Besmara might aid him with whatever it was that was coming.
The firelight caused
the corpse’s skin to shine with a sickly orange light. It was the body of the
old cleric. Like Vilífjor he too had animated and the dwarf knew well it was
drawn by the life inside himself. With only Besmara’s holy symbol and his faith
in the Pirate Queen, Vilífjor called on her holy might and was amazed when the
undead creature jerked forward and halted, struck by some unseen force. But it
continued forward. The dwarf tried again, but nothing happened.
“Surrender
yourself to me, and only to me,” a woman’s voice whispered among the winds.
Vilífjor closed his
eyes.
“Commit yourself to
me, as your father did,” she called again.
The dwarf took a deep
breath, dug deep within. “I commit myself to you, Besmara. My Queen!” He opened
his eyes to find the undead priest nearly upon him. He brandished the wooden
Jolly Roger at the walking Corpse and the creature froze in place. Vilífjor gestured
with his left and a great wave rose up, controlled by his will. “You failed
her, Tryphon. You are unworthy of her blessings.” He swung his arm, as if he
meant to strike the creature with his fist. The wave followed through and
slammed into the body of the dead priest, shattering the body and driving its
animating force out of the body. The exertion was great and he collapsed to the
ground.
In the morning, he
found Erfiðr cleaning the skull of the dead priest. All the flesh and soft
tissues were gone, leaving only bone behind. Using rocks, Vilífjor fashioned
some rudimentary tools and weapons from Tryphon’s bones. Using a length of
leather cord, he fashioned a mask from the skeletal face of the former priest. No
bone went unused. From the knuckles and small bones, He also fashioned a set of
casting dice. Back in Cassomir, he often bedded the elven seer, Seregruthion,
who taught him how to cast dice and read their meanings.
The island served as Vilífjor’s
home for several years. Armed with only a few bone tools and Erfiðr, he hunted
the greater beasts of the island and subdued them. He fashioned an axe, similar
to the one he carried with him as a seaman, from the shoulder of a great cat.
He studied Besmara’s holy text and resolved that he was following in his
father’s footsteps. He was certain that his father was foreign pirate and that
it would be on the seas that he would finally learn his fate. He took the name
Skeggbitr Ví∂irsen, meaning Bravebeard Son of the Sea, not realizing how close
to his own father’s surname he had gotten.
Fashioning a simple
boat from timbers he collected and a small sail that washed on the shore a few
weeks ago, Skegg set sail from the island. Erfiðr was his second mate, and from
their small vessel, they were able to loot a small pleasure boat. He used that
to make his way back to Cossamir. Long had he been gone, and he wished to look
in on his family. Enkí had again had a run in with owing money, but this time
it was due to a slump in business. Skegg sold the small barge and had a courier
bring the money to his family, fearful to return to them.
While in Cossamir,
Skegg seduced the treasurer, a married man named Emin Sankar. Emin had been the
man who had forced Enkí to sell his family brewing secrets. Aided by the seer—
the only one Skegg revealed himself to— they arranged for Emin’s assistant find
the treasurer with Seregruthion. The dwarf then blackmailed Emin, ensuring that
his family would be well cared for in exchange for making those that caught
Emin would never speak of it. Skegg arranged to have the assistant killed
tragically.
This story was generated from the following set of random background events:
Homeland: Non-Dwarf
Town or Village
Parents: Both parents
are alive (Helga Hjordisdóttir and Enkí Beorrbar)
Siblings: Two
Siblings
Sibling One: Younger
Brother (Atferðþol Enkísen)
Sibling Two: Younger
Sister (Sjórsilfra Enkídóttir)
Circumstance of
Birth: Bastard Born (Father is a shahzada, or noble marid, named Mannann
Ví∂irgott)
Parent’s Profession:
Tradespeople (Enkí is a brewer by trade
and Helga is a clothier)
Major Event: Died
Training: Revelation
Influential
Associates: The Seer (The elven seer Seregruthion, a former lover of Skegg)
Conflict: Seducer
Subject: Civic or Military Official (Emin Sarkan, Cassomir Treasurer)
Motivation: Revenge
Resolution: Enjoyed it
Romantic
Relationship: Several Inconsequential Relationships
