Character building
I'd forgotten how much fun creating characters for roleplaying games can be. I've just finished preparing my latest one for Ed's new D&D game. I've gone for the contrasting combo of Forest Gnome and Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer, because... well... it's funny.
This is Dramble Tavartarr. He's your friendly, neighbourhood all-round entertainer, with a big stick and a tendency to play with fire. He's also going through a midlife crisis. Having recently turned the big 2-0-0, he has a bit of a complex about supposedly having a great destiny, but not having had the chance to live it yet. I've written an intro for him on our Google Group for the game, and I'm copying it here too for posterity.
"If you buy me a drink, I'll tell you a story."
"Many centuries ago, in arid and distant lands, far from The Valley, lived a mighty dragon. Well, he thought he was mighty (and to you and me he would appear quite fearsome, with his brass-like scales and fiery breath), but by dragon standards he wasn't really. Actually he was a bit of a softy. Liked to chatter with passers-by. If only there were more people passing by. Oh, how foolish for the dragon to wish for that! For giants are not friends of dragons. But the forest folk perhaps are..."
It was a quiet night at the Lakeside inn. An assorted group of humans, halflings and a particularly large half-orc sat huddled in a corner by the fire. A gnome was perched on a bar stool at the centre of the group. Smallish even by gnome standards, he nevertheless held the others in rapt attention. His wild hair flew around him and his eyes sparkled in the firelight as he continued:
"Enter our hero. He'd earned the name Warryn Wildwander when, as a young gnome, he got the wanderlust and began to venture far from home. His clan name was Warryn Tavartarr."
"Tavartarr? Isn't that *your* name, Brighteyes?"
Dramble smiled down from his stool at the eager young halfling. The kid was barely old enough to drink, and sat with his legs crossed on the floor as if he was still at school. He made Dramble feel old. He sighed inwardly and brushed off the feeling.
"Why, so it is!" he replied, with a wink to some of the older members of his audience, who'd heard this story before and knew what was coming.
Dramble continued. He blew on his pan flute - an eerie set of notes - as he began to tell of Warryn stumbling into a home of giants and, trembling, seeking refuge in a cave. Were his audience imagining it, or could they hear the distant sound of giant feet stomping across the fields outside the inn, drawing closer?
"Suddenly, Warryn heard a roar! Much closer and right behind him!" Two halflings and a human jumped. They hadn't imagined it; that had definitely been a creature roaring. It sounded like nothing they had ever heard (certainly nothing that lived in the Valley). Suddenly a burst of flames leapt out of the fire, shaping itself into the form of a dragon.
"It was the dragon, Smaheltersmiddibranner, and he was hiding from the giants too!"
"Wait... Smarheldy-what?"
"Smaheltersmiddibranner. Rolls off the tongue. Now, hiding they both may have been, but Warryn was fearful of ending up a dragon's lunch. He had to impress old Smiddibranner fast."
The story went on. Dramble told how Warryn had impressed the dragon with his quick wits, how they bonded over stories of distant lands, and how they worked together to deceive the giants into leaving them alone. As he did, flames danced in the air in front of him. They took the forms of marching giants, desert caves, and the clever duo of dragon and gnome, all accompanied by disembodied sounds and music he blew on his pipes. Fire flashed in Dramble's eyes as he played out the final chase. The others were sure it wasn't just the reflection from the flames.
"Oi, Jabble Dramble Firespinner, you watch it!" the barmaid shouted. That last fiery giant image had caught part of the counter alight as it ran away, coming rather too close to a clutch of bottles filled with spirits.
"Ooops!" Dramble had the decency to look sheepish. He waved a hand and the flames vanished abruptly.
"That's better," grunted the barmaid, though there was a smile on her face. "You know we likes you bringing folk in 'ere, entertaining 'em with your stories. Especially with how quiet it were yesterday. But it'd be better all round if you spins rather more stories and rather less fires, yes?"
It was Dramble's first evening in the Lakeside Inn for some days. Having been away in the Feygrove this past week, he had missed Dworic's pronouncement of the lost map's discovery, the two bands of adventurers who had ventured out, and the subdued atmosphere in the inn when the first band failed to return as expected the previous night. He was trying to raise everyone's spirits (but not light the spirits, ha!) but inwardly he was kicking himself. Two centuries in the Valley with hardly any excitement and he missed it when adventure finally called!
He hurried on to the finish. "Before they parted, Smaheltersmiddibranner, grateful for Warryn's help, bestowed a great gift on him. The blood of dragons would run in his veins! And not only his, but in certain others of his line who would come after him. They didn't appear in every generation, but those bearing the traits of the dragon...
Dramble paused for the final reveal, rolling his sleeves up to reveal a sheen of brassy scales covering the skin on his arms. There was a gasp, and one or two knowing nods.
"...are said to be destined for great things. Greater even than entertaining you all tonight!"
Dramble smiled. Of all the stories his family had taught him of how Warryn Wildwander had come by his draconic gifts, this was his favourite at the moment. The other one where Warryn had been rewarded for pulling a thorn out of the dragon's side was a little generic, but Dramble thought it had been improved enormously once he changed the thorn for an ogre's spear. The dragon had been called Glaedr Brightscales in that version. Warryn had ridden atop the dragon as together, Wildwander and Brightscales, they chased the ogre back to the mountains. But he'd told that one a lot, a generation ago in human and halfling timescales. This generation needed a fresh story.
He also liked the one where Warryn had been captured by a wicked dragon and tricked it into promising away its power, before using that power to escape its grasp. He might tell that one again some day. It had a lot of cleverness, with all its sneaking around, word tricks and illusions. He could spin that one out for a whole evening with all its twists and turns.
It sometimes felt hollow though. He'd pulled his closing line off with a grin and a flourish, but it had been both bittersweet and true. Two hundred years! He was practically middle-aged. Where was this great destiny he'd been promised all his life? He wanted to live the stories, not just tell them.
"Tell us another one, Brighteyes!"
Dramble was brought out of his reverie by the half-orc, who almost pushed him off his stool by what was clearly meant to be a gentle nudge with her beer tankard. Dramble offered his own tankard in return, now empty. The young halfling leapt up, grabbed it off him and ran to the bar to get another round in. As he did, Dramble settled back in his seat and began to blow a wistful tune.
What story should he tell next? There was the whole saga of Warryn's scrapes and conquests as he learned to master his powers; how he rose to become a mighty sorcerer before meeting an unfortunate end. Or a happily-ever-after end. Did they need to hear a happily-ever-after end this evening, after everything that had happened? Perhaps he could do the tales of some of Warryn's famous descendants instead. Maybe Ella Rosethorn? Or Fabien Fiddlefen and Summer Silverthread? Or...
Before the gnome could decide, the door to the inn burst open and a strangely assorted group wandered in. Dramble recognised a few of them by sight, and knew them to be the second party of explorers. They had returned! What wonders had they seen? What adventures must they have had? He had to know! This was his chance!
"Sorry, friends. Another night, perhaps. I think the stage is theirs now!"
The gnome leapt off his stool and nudged his way past the patrons nearer the entrance, who had stood up to greet the newcomers. The travellers looked down (Well, *most* of them looked down...) at the diminutive figure in front of them, who was grinning from ear to ear and offering an outstretched hand.
"Hi, the name's Dramble Warryn Smiddibranner. I'd be very pleased to make your acquaintance."
"If I buy you a drink, will you tell me your story?"
This is Dramble Tavartarr. He's your friendly, neighbourhood all-round entertainer, with a big stick and a tendency to play with fire. He's also going through a midlife crisis. Having recently turned the big 2-0-0, he has a bit of a complex about supposedly having a great destiny, but not having had the chance to live it yet. I've written an intro for him on our Google Group for the game, and I'm copying it here too for posterity.
"If you buy me a drink, I'll tell you a story."
"Many centuries ago, in arid and distant lands, far from The Valley, lived a mighty dragon. Well, he thought he was mighty (and to you and me he would appear quite fearsome, with his brass-like scales and fiery breath), but by dragon standards he wasn't really. Actually he was a bit of a softy. Liked to chatter with passers-by. If only there were more people passing by. Oh, how foolish for the dragon to wish for that! For giants are not friends of dragons. But the forest folk perhaps are..."
It was a quiet night at the Lakeside inn. An assorted group of humans, halflings and a particularly large half-orc sat huddled in a corner by the fire. A gnome was perched on a bar stool at the centre of the group. Smallish even by gnome standards, he nevertheless held the others in rapt attention. His wild hair flew around him and his eyes sparkled in the firelight as he continued:
"Enter our hero. He'd earned the name Warryn Wildwander when, as a young gnome, he got the wanderlust and began to venture far from home. His clan name was Warryn Tavartarr."
"Tavartarr? Isn't that *your* name, Brighteyes?"
Dramble smiled down from his stool at the eager young halfling. The kid was barely old enough to drink, and sat with his legs crossed on the floor as if he was still at school. He made Dramble feel old. He sighed inwardly and brushed off the feeling.
"Why, so it is!" he replied, with a wink to some of the older members of his audience, who'd heard this story before and knew what was coming.
Dramble continued. He blew on his pan flute - an eerie set of notes - as he began to tell of Warryn stumbling into a home of giants and, trembling, seeking refuge in a cave. Were his audience imagining it, or could they hear the distant sound of giant feet stomping across the fields outside the inn, drawing closer?
"Suddenly, Warryn heard a roar! Much closer and right behind him!" Two halflings and a human jumped. They hadn't imagined it; that had definitely been a creature roaring. It sounded like nothing they had ever heard (certainly nothing that lived in the Valley). Suddenly a burst of flames leapt out of the fire, shaping itself into the form of a dragon.
"It was the dragon, Smaheltersmiddibranner, and he was hiding from the giants too!"
"Wait... Smarheldy-what?"
"Smaheltersmiddibranner. Rolls off the tongue. Now, hiding they both may have been, but Warryn was fearful of ending up a dragon's lunch. He had to impress old Smiddibranner fast."
The story went on. Dramble told how Warryn had impressed the dragon with his quick wits, how they bonded over stories of distant lands, and how they worked together to deceive the giants into leaving them alone. As he did, flames danced in the air in front of him. They took the forms of marching giants, desert caves, and the clever duo of dragon and gnome, all accompanied by disembodied sounds and music he blew on his pipes. Fire flashed in Dramble's eyes as he played out the final chase. The others were sure it wasn't just the reflection from the flames.
"Oi, Jabble Dramble Firespinner, you watch it!" the barmaid shouted. That last fiery giant image had caught part of the counter alight as it ran away, coming rather too close to a clutch of bottles filled with spirits.
"Ooops!" Dramble had the decency to look sheepish. He waved a hand and the flames vanished abruptly.
"That's better," grunted the barmaid, though there was a smile on her face. "You know we likes you bringing folk in 'ere, entertaining 'em with your stories. Especially with how quiet it were yesterday. But it'd be better all round if you spins rather more stories and rather less fires, yes?"
It was Dramble's first evening in the Lakeside Inn for some days. Having been away in the Feygrove this past week, he had missed Dworic's pronouncement of the lost map's discovery, the two bands of adventurers who had ventured out, and the subdued atmosphere in the inn when the first band failed to return as expected the previous night. He was trying to raise everyone's spirits (but not light the spirits, ha!) but inwardly he was kicking himself. Two centuries in the Valley with hardly any excitement and he missed it when adventure finally called!
He hurried on to the finish. "Before they parted, Smaheltersmiddibranner, grateful for Warryn's help, bestowed a great gift on him. The blood of dragons would run in his veins! And not only his, but in certain others of his line who would come after him. They didn't appear in every generation, but those bearing the traits of the dragon...
Dramble paused for the final reveal, rolling his sleeves up to reveal a sheen of brassy scales covering the skin on his arms. There was a gasp, and one or two knowing nods.
"...are said to be destined for great things. Greater even than entertaining you all tonight!"
Dramble smiled. Of all the stories his family had taught him of how Warryn Wildwander had come by his draconic gifts, this was his favourite at the moment. The other one where Warryn had been rewarded for pulling a thorn out of the dragon's side was a little generic, but Dramble thought it had been improved enormously once he changed the thorn for an ogre's spear. The dragon had been called Glaedr Brightscales in that version. Warryn had ridden atop the dragon as together, Wildwander and Brightscales, they chased the ogre back to the mountains. But he'd told that one a lot, a generation ago in human and halfling timescales. This generation needed a fresh story.
He also liked the one where Warryn had been captured by a wicked dragon and tricked it into promising away its power, before using that power to escape its grasp. He might tell that one again some day. It had a lot of cleverness, with all its sneaking around, word tricks and illusions. He could spin that one out for a whole evening with all its twists and turns.
It sometimes felt hollow though. He'd pulled his closing line off with a grin and a flourish, but it had been both bittersweet and true. Two hundred years! He was practically middle-aged. Where was this great destiny he'd been promised all his life? He wanted to live the stories, not just tell them.
"Tell us another one, Brighteyes!"
Dramble was brought out of his reverie by the half-orc, who almost pushed him off his stool by what was clearly meant to be a gentle nudge with her beer tankard. Dramble offered his own tankard in return, now empty. The young halfling leapt up, grabbed it off him and ran to the bar to get another round in. As he did, Dramble settled back in his seat and began to blow a wistful tune.
What story should he tell next? There was the whole saga of Warryn's scrapes and conquests as he learned to master his powers; how he rose to become a mighty sorcerer before meeting an unfortunate end. Or a happily-ever-after end. Did they need to hear a happily-ever-after end this evening, after everything that had happened? Perhaps he could do the tales of some of Warryn's famous descendants instead. Maybe Ella Rosethorn? Or Fabien Fiddlefen and Summer Silverthread? Or...
Before the gnome could decide, the door to the inn burst open and a strangely assorted group wandered in. Dramble recognised a few of them by sight, and knew them to be the second party of explorers. They had returned! What wonders had they seen? What adventures must they have had? He had to know! This was his chance!
"Sorry, friends. Another night, perhaps. I think the stage is theirs now!"
The gnome leapt off his stool and nudged his way past the patrons nearer the entrance, who had stood up to greet the newcomers. The travellers looked down (Well, *most* of them looked down...) at the diminutive figure in front of them, who was grinning from ear to ear and offering an outstretched hand.
"Hi, the name's Dramble Warryn Smiddibranner. I'd be very pleased to make your acquaintance."
"If I buy you a drink, will you tell me your story?"