Stumbled upon this today looking for something completely different. I wrote this short page-and-a-half intro to my character for a D&D campaign in (about) 2001.
Thus commences the tale of the early life of Drephus
Jipebearer. He was born to two Tiefling parents whose keep was earned by
farming on the Plateau of Thay. His lineage is curious, and being a family of
Tieflings they survive only due to the fact that they farm well and pay their
dues. Thay, being a cultural melting pot, also allows them to hide with an ease
not found in the west. Tam, his father, farms grain and milks several beasts
for milk to make cheese. Its little things like cheese that keep people alive
in Thay, which is hard ruled by the Red Wizards. His mother, Kait, also works
the farm and helps nurse the young children – Human, gnoll, orc, Halfling or
otherwise - in the area. I have no siblings, for while my mother loves children
she could not bear to bring up another in this world of pain.
Young Thayan children are tested at an early age for magical
aptitude by the Red Wizards. When my time came at the age of four, I showed
aptitude in the necromantic arts, but before I could be taken my parents hid
me. I never quite understood, being four, but I always recount being swept away
by my parents and hid for a time. Upon recounting these repressed memories to
my parents, they at first disavowed any knowledge, telling me it was but a
dream. But I knew better. Upon the age of seven, persisting in these thoughts,
they decided I was of an age to understand and the whole tale to me was
recounted. From that moment on I resented my parents. I had always had a
aptitude to magic and felt betrayed. They had their reasons but it was of no
justification to me. From that point on I longed the day of my escape.
One day I was working the fields and saw passing through a
tall man with a skeleton for a face in dark garments. His hands were like
claws, shriveled. I was scared, but had to look on. I knew he had to be magical
and mystical. He only reaffirmed my desire to leave this farm and learn the
arcane arts.
I had few friends, being a Tiefling I wasn’t always openly
hated but I feel my friends’ parents advised them not to play with me. However
Yom, a young elven slave girl always seemed to befriend me. She worked a farm
not far from my parents as a slave. Her brother was chosen by the Red Wizards
as a student, and at times he would come to visit her. Once she brought him to
meet me. The thought and image of the dark specter I saw years earlier was
heavy on my mind and I recounted it to him. He told me of the zulkir of the school of Necromancy, and how his mirror images
often traveled the land scouting for him. I was filled with wonder, having seen
a master Necromancer, and knew this is the path I wanted to take. I begged him
to tell me more of wizardry and of necromancy, and he recounted several stories
of him and his friends and the magic they would craft but did not share with me
the secrets of the arcane or spellcasting, which I resented. However he
reaffirmed my every desire to leave this place.
He came back on occasion and shared with us knowledge on many things.
Once he told me of gods, supernatural creatures that care for people in this
forsaken world. My favorite one was Ishtishia, because she represented the sea,
something I had never seen before. Maybe I will see it someday.
I started collecting things to aid me in my release. This
isn’t easy, being a Tiefling any time I went to town people knew there was only
one family of Tieflings in the plateau. However over time, doing chores for my
parents and nearby farms I acquired several gold pieces. As soon as I had
enough, Yom and I purchased a chest from a local merchant. No small feat! At
the age of 10 lugging a 25 pound chest several miles from market. We dragged it
to the edge of my father’s fields and buried it. Over time I collected things
to aid me in my escape, including a crossbow and bolts, ink, a pen, paper and a
paper tube, several days worth of rations, some cheese that would remind me of
home, and some leather straps to help me lug the chest. Yom would always help
me but she always had a sad look in her eyes as yet another item was added to
the chest. Part of me wanted to bring her with, but I knew I couldn’t take care
of myself, much less her. Besides, when her brother was released from the
academy, surely he would be more suitable to care for Yom.
My opportunity arose when I was 14, perhaps a bit young but
I could no longer stand the farm and my lack of the arcane. My father was
harvesting in the field and I was sick with a flu. I was sick for days. However
upon the upswing of my illness a young Halfling child was being born on the
other side of the plateau, which my mother assisted. So while my father was in
the field and my mother several miles away, I decided now as my time. I took
off my farmer’s hat and set it on the table, along with my boots. This would be
sign enough of my intentions. I ran to the end of the field, which fortunately
my father wasn’t working. I dug up the box, affixed leather straps to help me
lug it. I wandered over to where Yom usually works to say goodbye, she saw me
and my box and knew in her heart, even from a distance what was about to
happen. She ran to me and gave me a hug, and something I had never felt before,
a kiss. (Tieflings aren’t the emotional type) She took a piece of silk out of
her skirt and gave it to me to remember her by. Out of my mouth then came words
that had no pretense but I now feel bound by – I will come back for you.
And so I headed west.
Interesting side note: I invested a lot of time into drawing up the character, using my influences from Everquest and reading D&D manuals. This was the first character I played with a backstory. He also died around level 2. Crit arrow shot from an orc, or was it a goblin? I could tell the GM didn't want me dead, but there I was, dead. He gave me a chance, though, I heard the voice of God was was told my time on earth was too short and that there were things I had left to do, etc. etc. and that He would give me a second chance if I took on a different role.
See, that was a problem. I was a necromancer. I was always a necromancer. Everquest, D&D, the name Drephus was analgous with "the friendly Necromancer".
I stumbled "but God maybe..."
GM: "DEAD!"
...and that was the end.
Good times.
