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So I was curious to here the creative side of this forum. I've seen lots of shared knowledge, and some awesome builds, but what i like is the stories. I am partial to the inquisitor and feel it lends itself to a plethora of great back story possibilities.
The Challenge here is to create a back story for an Inquisitor. Any setting, alignment, or location. your only limitation is your imagination.
For those that are interested here is MY story:
Krovski Wasn't always so dark. A half-orc, born and raised amongst humans. He was happy and content with his life in the church. This happiness was never supposed to last for poor Krovski, the fates had other plans. Rumors had been spreading of a foul taint spreading across the land. The necromancers were gaining power and their minions where quickly extinguishing the light from the known world. Well Krovski being the orc of faith he was left to go and fight the taint and bring back the world he loved.
During a raid against a necromancers tower Krovski let himself be captured to buy time for the others to escape. though his faith was strong enough to protect him at first, the necromancer was patient and thought it more fun to torture poor Krovski then to just kill him. For nearly seven years Krovski was held prisoner by the necromancer. Towards the end of the Dead Wars an assault on the tower freed Krovski from the necromancer but not before the years of imprisonment had left its scars. Krovski had lost his faith, but gain something else; a dark power now existed within him. This taint gained from years of exposure and torture with necromantic energies combined and twisted Krovski's faith.
Shortly after gaining his freedom Krovski found a new calling, one more suited to his new mentality. Krovski no longer saw himself as someone who could be a part of normal society, the necromancer saw to that. His taint would not darken the joy of the innocent, but he could still help them. Korvski would spend the rest of his days on the fringes of society, chasing down any evil that threatened them, and purifying the darkness by absorbing its taint. He was an Inquisitor now, a hunter of evil. Every evil creature slain only helped to make him stronger, for the taint had changed him into a very special Inquisitor. harnessing the very power used to torture him, the power the world had learned to hate through all the years of war, Krovski had become a Sin Eater.
No one has a story. ill make the options broader - tell us the back story for any class you want. Everyone here has demonstrated the ability to make a strong character, no lets see if you can bring it to life too.
Well, I don't have a story for you, but I'll share my inquisitor character with you. As a worshipper of Cayden Cailean, he's a little unorthodox ... but he's amazing fun.
Fighter (Cad) 1 / Inquisitor 10
Half-elf male
Chaotic Good
Str 10, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 16, Wis 18, Cha 10
Fights with the Red Blade (+1 keen, holy mithral rapier)
Notable feats: Spring Attack, Butterfly's Sting
Notable skills: Perception +26, Stealth +20, Acrobatics +19
Inquisitor domain: Travel (Man, I looooooove being able to teleport as a move action up to 100 ft per day.)
Though a follower of the Drunken God, he's not a drunkard himself (though he has been known to take a sip or three of whiskey from his silver flask). He's more of a monster-hunter, and plays up the "Freedom" aspect of Cayden Cailean by working tirelessly to free the people of Ustalav (I'm playing him in Carrion Crown) from the monsters, undead, and other horrors of the night that plague the land.
this my back story for my Favorite gmpc
Kyras Jr. grew to become a great alchemist using mutagens to pull his forward his heritage of drow and orc, but dose so in fear of hurting the wrong person. he much rather use his wit and skill to win over his foes.
a skilled adventurer and merchant he often will go in search of wealth where ever he can find it .
Ok, I have split this into two sections. One section "fluff" one section "crunch" and would love some critique on both if anyone has the time. Also sorry but I was in a bit of a hurry so I hope the formating is OK. This is for a curse of the crimson thron character btw.
The fluff section has some potentially sensitive topics as my character background is rather dark and gritty. Please avoid if you become offended easily as I have no wish to cause offense.
My name is Yeria Lintara and I am 16 years old. I was born a human girl child in the city of Korvosa. I could be a princess, or a rich merchant’s daughter. I could be an apprentice or a junior guardsman. Am I any of these things? No, I’m a whore.
I could pretty it up for you and call it lady of the night, or scented woman, but the truth is I have been selling the only thing I have since before my woman’s blood first came. Scum, perverts and the lowest of the dock rats are my customers.
*Snort* Well I guess it is only what an empty moth can expect. Abandoned in Bridgefront shingles when I could barely walk, if I could not expect my own flesh and blood to care for me who should? I still hated it. I hated my life, I hated being powerless and fearing that the next customer would be the one that beat me bad enough to scar or gave me a disease.
I guess that’s why I listened to the ramblings of a crazy old man; I was 14 and strung out on Shiver having rolled one of my customers and taken refuge in the world Shiver creates.
I listened to him ramble next to an open sewer grate for over an hour while the wind blew through the shingles and the last of the drug worked its way out of my system. He spoke of demons and darkness and things coming to tempt men into the night. What interested me in all of his stories was it seemed to me that those who made these bargains always lost not because of the bargain but because of their own stupidity.
So I did something uncharacteristic, I asked the old man for more stories and offered him some of my own bread heel for it. With a small smile on his face the man greedily ate my bread and began another story.
This story was different however it spoke not of faraway lands and distant times but of Korvosa here and now. He told me, this old man with the strangely hypnotic voice, he told me that if you were brave enough and if you were strong enough to let go of the old and binding ways that had been the tools the rich used to keep the poor as the poor and the rich as the rich, you could find on one night every century a special place on the river where you could call a special name and a bargain could be made.
As the last words of his story slid away I was grasped with the burning desire, No the NEED to know this special secret name. “Give me the Name, old man.” I said to him.
With a gap filled rotting grin he uttered to me “No, girl your bread paid for the story. For something as special as this name I need something more, something greater.”
As his filthy hands touched me and he brought me into his grimy embrace I shuddered, but I paid him in the only way I knew how. After we were done he whispered into my ear only one word before staggering away leaving me desperate to clean myself of his filth but knowing somehow that I had only minutes to get to the river’s edge and call out that name I had paid most dearly for.
So gathering my rags around me I grabbed a rope and climbed and ran with none of my usual rat like caution. Speed was my only motivation and it seemed like that night, that my feet could fly.
I do not remember the journey or anyone who tried to stop me, all I know is that when I arrived at the river front dashing to its edge and gasping I yelled that name through a mouth of blood and my hands were sticky with what in the flickering moonlight looked like dark thick ink.
“Yass’iall!” “Yass’iall!” “Yass’iall!” Three times I cried that name over the dirty stinking waters and spilled my blood into their depths. For three long beats of my heart after silence fell over the moon dappled water I saw nothing, then just as the first sob clawed its way up my throat and despair began to fill my soul I saw him rising from the muck stained river like a chick emerging from the egg.
I cannot begin to describe him in any mortal terms as his foulness was coupled with a strange beauty that seemed to almost hypnotize with is dichotomy of revulsion and attraction.
He called to me, no he crooned to me, his very speech burning at my ears and causing my eyes to stream blood. I staggered towards him my body pulled along almost without my will and only after three steps did I realize I had been walking across the surface of the river. As a choked gasp of surprise tore its way from my throat the water’s surface gave way beneath me and I was only saved from the lethal and icy grasp of the river below by the bird quick grasp of his foul, postulant, and glorious arms.
Dragged forward into his reeking embrace I could not stifle a gag that turned into another sob as a voice whispered oh so softly into my mind without ever touching my ears
“Sweet child, so Sweet, Hurt child to come to me. No fear child, no more. Come unto me child, be strong, be free of fear.”
His voice filling my head promising freedom and power in return for no more than being what I already was, I wept the first tears I had spilled since the night a dockrat took my innocence from me in an alley. “Yes, Yes Take me. Take anything! Make me yours! Make me strong!” I shrieked into the empty putrid glory of his cradling arms.
“Promise Child, Promise strong, Promise free. Promise be true know truth and never forget!”
His words echoed in the depths of my mind.
“I Promise!” I sobbed my voice a shattered wreck.
“Truth for you Child, See Truth.”
As these words seemed to swell inside me I suddenly knew. I knew that I was one tiny speck of life in one tiny part of a vast conjunction of universes. I saw them spread before me and I saw the rot in the heart of them all. I saw that all things decay, all things sicken and that we are just a precarious balancing act of blood and humors. I knew who I embraced then, the one thing all men fear and I knew my first moment of joy as the pure power of death poured through me, the one disease we all catch at birth and are never free of.
The next hours seemed infinite as he filled me with knowledge and glorious freeing power, but as the sun rose I slipped from his sweet sweet embrace and found myself fallen in a soaked and muddied pile underneath a riverside dock. The sun rising and casting its light had not yet reached my hideaway and I felt my first true smile for years climb onto my face as I rose from the mud and filth with a few fading shreds of night still wrapped around me.
A soft echo seemed to whisper one last time to me as I emerged into the new day “Remember, Child, Remember.”
“I will” I whispered “I will.” I climbed the dock ropes and walked away into a new life where I would never fear again.
Female Human Witch 1
NE Medium Humanoid (Human)
Hero Points 1
Init +5; Senses Perception +4
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DEFENSE
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AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10. . (+1 Dex)
hp 8 (1d6+1)
Fort +2, Ref +1, Will +3
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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Dagger, Punching +1 (1d4+1/20/x3) and
. . Unarmed Strike +1 (1d3+1/20/x2)
Special Attacks Misfortune (DC 14), Slumber (DC 14)
Witch Spells Known (CL 1, 1 melee touch, 1 ranged touch):
1 (2/day) Sleep (DC 15), Sleep (DC 15)
0 (at will) Read Magic (DC 14), Detect Magic, Light
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STATISTICS
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Str 12, Dex 13, Con 13, Int 18, Wis 13, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 12
Feats Extra Hex, Extra Hex
Traits Drug Addict (Personal), Focused Mind
Skills Heal +5, Knowledge (Arcana) +8, Knowledge (Nature) +8, Knowledge (Planes) +8, Perception +4, Sense Motive +3, Spellcraft +8, Use Magic Device +5
Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Infernal, Orc
SQ +4 bonus on initiative checks, Empathic Link with Familiar (Su), Healing (1d8+1) (Su), Hero Points (1), Share Spells with Familiar
Combat Gear Dagger, Punching; Other Gear Backpack (empty), Blanket, winter, Flint and steel, Peasant's outfit, Pouch, belt (empty), Rations, trail (per day) (6), Spell component pouch, Waterskin
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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+4 bonus on initiative checks You gain the Alertness feat while your familiar is within arm's reach.
Empathic Link with Familiar (Su) You have an empathic link with your Arcane Familiar.
Focused Mind +2 to Concentration checks
Healing (1d8+1) (Su) Cure Light wounds at will (1/day/person).
Hero Points (1) Hero Points can be spent at any time to grant a variety of bonuses.
Misfortune (1 round(s)) (DC 14) (Su) Target must take the lower of 2d20 for rolls.
Share Spells with Familiar The wizard may cast a spell with a target of "You" on his familiar (as a touch spell) instead of on himself. A wizard may cast spells on his familiar even if the spells do not normally affect creatures of the familiar's type (magical beast).
Slumber (1 rounds) (DC 14) (Su) Target falls asleep.
Great stories so far everyone. thank you for sharing, and i look forward to more wonderful stories in the future. Covent that was a very well thought out and gripping story. i like the dialogue in it as well. thank you for taking the time to write that as im sure it was no small feat. Kyras Ausks, do have any more on your characters history? his family story was interesting and made me want to hear more about him personally. For anyone else veiwing this thread please join in and tell us your story. we arent posting builds so there is no critiquing, so feel free and make your character anything you want, there is no OPT or min/max in a story.
Drevin was born to a dead woman. She died in child birth and he was born with a grotesque swirling mark around his eye. He was adopted by a chapel of Pharasma as this mark resembles the inverse of the symbol of Pharasma. It was seen as him being judged by her eye, and set to live.
His skills were put to use in the graveyard as a ditch digger. In a world where the dead often rise, this is a very necessary job. The bodies must be cut this way and that way so that it won't come back.
But the dead don't stop coming back. In doing Pharasma's work, he takes his shovel and goes to put the poor wretches into the ground where they belong.
(He's earned the nickname Wheezy because he talks in a Wheezy voice.)
Lv5
Rolled stats
Str 16
Dex 16
Con 12 (11+1 at 4th)
Int 8
Wis 19 (17+2)
Cha 9
Domain: Heresy inquisition
Feats: Catch off guard, Power attack, Paired stealth, Extra bane
He wields a Shovel as his main weapon, and uses Improvised weapons all the time; torches, lanterns, and the severed arm of a killed zombie.
My take on inquisitors is not so automatically dark. Any religion can benefit from such a skilled operator. Here’s mine:
Angradd is the dwarven god of aggressive combat. It makes sense for the church to train inquisitor to take on enemies of the dwarven race. Gardura expected to be fighting orc, drow, gready humans may be even dragons. Her first mission was to be a (junior) member of a team to hunt down a dwarven heretic and traitor. When a faint clue pointed towards Eleder, the junior member was sent to investigate. Regrettable she was ship wreaked on a notorious island on the way!
I love a good story. Thank you all who have willingly shared your story with the rest of the world, and for the rest of you. Please dont be scared or embarrassed, this is all just in good fun and no sticks will be thrown for a bad story because there is no such thing. I look forward to reading more.