Editors note: when someone gives me a backstory for a character I want to tweak it to be better, to weave it into the background of e setting so that it becomes integrated into the world. That fundementally changes e backstory of the player and causes resentment. The player suggests that he has done these things that he might beable to accomplish if he were a much more powerful character, but until that point not at all. I want the story to make sense and shed light into the world, give the character a context, but often it leaves them feeling like I have hijacked their ideas and changed them. Often, this would be avoided by sitting down and talking it through with them one-on-one, but that is a luxury that is often not possible.
Here is a backstory that I will not share with the player that suggested it:
A stroke of lightning struck near the small cottage deep in the forest between Neloar and Mehlomt's Dale, on the side of the wilderness and not Greysteel, a hour's walk from the road. Your master used to tell you as you grew up. The shivered tree trunk outside was testament to it. The peel of thunder shattered the night and the sleep of your master. He rose to check on things. When he opened the door, he stood there in the frame holding a small swaddling child in the crook of his arm. The stranger thrust his burden into his arms and said, "This one was born not far from here at midnight. Take him. Raise him as your own and teach him the Trade. One day he will do great things.". Your master look own and uncovered your face and saw what you were for the first time. He looked up and could not find the man who brought you. The skies were clear, the stars shining brightly around the moons.
This was not the story you heard most as a child. He told you that your parents had abandoned you and he found you in the woods. Sometimes the story would change with the telling or with the moral lesson that he wished to impart. He only told you the truth once and that only when he determined that you were ready to hear it.
Your youth was normal, if normal meant that you had no friends and you learned forest lore instead of regular schooling. Your master taught you how to read words and speak languages he knew, but also to read the signs of the forest. You learned to track and to hunt. You were five when you got your first bow, even though it took you a year to hit anything with it. Once every few months your master took you to town, mostly to Neloar, but occasionally to Mehlomt's Dale to trade the furs from his trap lines and the skins of his kills. When you were eight he was proud to let you carry and sell the hides and furs that you took that winter. With that money you purchased your own longbow, it was taller than you were, but not for long.
When you hit your fifteenth Nameday, you were taller than anyone you knew and had learned to keep your appearance hidden from others. You dressed in concealing leathers, gloves and your trademark cloak. Your Master, a word that meant as much to you as others used the word Father, told you the truth. He told you that you had a right to know, as you had learned all the things that he had to teach you that you could learn from a person like him. You would have to learn the rest by yourself.
You had learned the ways of the woods and knew how to survive in them in all seasons without support. You knew the dangers of the woods. The fur baring dangers and the scaled ones. You know that the lizards that haunt the forest occur in many shapes and sizes, some are more deadly than others. The dangerous ones are the lizard cats, or dragon cats by some, not dragons not lizards. They like giant iguanas that move quickly year round and have a fiery mouth but no flame. There is another size of those called lizard wolves, that are about as large as a person in weight; they also have a fiery mouth. Lizard bears also known as Earth Dragons weigh more than a bear and also have the fiery breath, but some have other more dangerous mouths like venom and bilious. Some of these have vestigial wings others do not. The best way to get away from these beasts is to climb a tree. But they are not the worst of the dangers in the woods.
There are Goblins and Orcs. They are weaker than lizard types by a lot, but they very rarely travel in small numbers. One goblin or orc is not a threat to one person, but there is never only one. Where there is one, there is two, where ther is two there is four, where ther is four there is more. That is the rule. Your master made sure that you knew that and learned that lesson well. Orcs and goblins are cunning, which meant that when found their tracks you had to be careful. He showed you once, the tracks of two or three orcs were walking on each other's tracks. You followed the tracks for an hour and then you saw that they branched out near a cottage near the road; there was over a dozen in the group. He said that the only way to take such a group was to take them out in ones and twos and that was more dificult than that sounded, because you had to do it quickly otherwise they would sound the alarm and you would have to deal with all of them. The trick to fighting orcs was to outnumber them and to out think them. When they raided outlying farms of Neloar, you helped find and counter ambush them. Your team killed seven of the brutes and only lost three people.
By patrolling the forests you hoped to find tracks and warn people of possible raids. It is a constant thrill trying to best the cunning of such a dangerous foe. But you were not always sucessful. Still most of the villages were safer for your diligence. The threats were not just from orcs and goblins, there were other threats and those threats were often more mysterious. Like the disappearance of some of the people from the village and the periphery. You had been seeing signs of it for a few months now, but since it was not orcs, you put it out of your mind, until it happened to you and when it happened, you knew you were out of your depth. So you went to find some help.
You have in your possession the blanket that you were wrapped in when you arrived. It is not particularly soft and there is writing on it, but not corresponding to any script you have ever seen before. It is charcoal grey and very durable. You carry it in the bottom of your backpack; it never wrinkles.
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