Mar 11, 2012

D&D Character Background: Aetsarda (8, for short)

Aetsarda (8 for short) Lawful Good Paladin.  Half Elf.

Half Elf PaladinThey say that the gods work in mysterious ways.  They also say that the life of a Paladin is not one that is chosen, so much as thrust upon an individual.

Truer words were never spoken for Aetsarda.

Aetsarda and his family were humble vegatble farmers in the small, mountain village of Skrag.

While his twin sister Adrastea would often regail him with tales of their older cousin and how exciting it must be for him to be out adventuring, and how amazing it must be to be allowed to do such things, Aetsarda would unenthusiastically nod his head and mutter some affirmative phrases as he watched his latest conquest-to-be walk by.

Aetsarda was a far simpler creature than his sister, and often found that all life's troubles could easily be pushed aside with a good woman, a soft bed, and a meat, chunk of.

Aetsarda's Mother, Shela, was often very strained in attempting to keep Adrastea's head out of the clouds, and Etsarda's head out of the skirts of the local girls.

The truth was, when Aetsarda's Father, Ehlorian dissapeared when Aetsarda was only 7, it left a huge hole in his heart, and took away his sense of certainty in the world.  He saw it as nothing short of a betrayal and knew that he himself would never allow that sort of loss in his life again.  He embraced the live-for-the-moment, hedonistic lifestyle that can often accompany a youth with little in the way of parental supervision and a chip upon his shoulder.

While sleeping with many, Aetsarda would never truly get close to any of his conquests, and, would often move on or dump any who sought to get too close to his heart.  Even his own Mother was pushed away - partly because Aetsarda subconciously blamed her for not being good enough to keep the love of his Father and driving him away.

The only person Aetsarda truly loved and would do anything for, was his Sister.

When she told him of her secret trainings with Brennar, he at first laughed and pushed it aside as another one of her lofty schemes.  But, as she continued to persue the matter, he began to pay closer attention to his twin.  She was changing.  Becoming stronger, more independant, and, very skilled.  She would often sneak up on him to scare him, then dart away laughing into the night.  Despite his best efforts, she would often escape unscathed.

At 21, she too, dissapeared from the village.  Aetsarda was... crushed.

When his Father had left, he had been too young to do anything about it.

This time was different.  He grabbed a few supplies, and left a simple note to his Mother.

"Gone looking for Adrastea.  - 8"

Aetsarda was not the adventurer his sister was, nor was he as adept at traversing the wild unscathed.  Many nights he went hungry, and more than a few times he met with misfortune, losing belongings, getting injured, and, eventually poisoned.

In his fever, Aetsarda stumbled through the forest and landed face down in a shallow pool of water.  As his conciousness left him, he remembered something his father had said to him.  Something about the depth of the water having little to do with drowning...

As Aetsarda lay there, drowning and dying of fever, a figure vaguely reminding him of his Father appeared before him.  "Hello, Son."


"Not exactly my boy" Tyr smiled.  "But there is a resemblance"


"I am the God of Justice.  Many call me Tyr."

Aetsarda paused and did his best to remember where he was, but failed "W..."

"You are dying, my boy.  Your body is wracked with fever, and, at the moment, you're trying to breathe water.  (It isn't working)"


"Yes, you are between worlds right now.  And, I have a question for you, if you have a moment."

Aetsarda smiled.  He did remind him of his father.  "Sure."

"If you like, you could die now.  Or, I could help you out, but, you'd have to help out some people for me."

"What kind of people?"

"Quite the negotiator!" Tyr laughed, clapping him on the etherial shoulder.  "But an excellent question.  Those in need of your help would be the short answer.  You would be my instrument of justice.  You would right wrongs, punish the wicked, and, most importantly, save the innocent from harm.  Your life is already forfit, and, you would treat it as such - sacrificing yourself if necessary for the greater good."

8 chuckled to himself, "I think you should talk to my sister, not me."

Tyr smiled.  "I knew I liked you.  Only those worthy of carrying the Paladin's crest refuse or, even better, nominate others in their place, even knowing that it would mean their own death."

Aetsarda paused, and looked back at Tyr. "I see.  Well, you'd know better than me."

Tyr laughed "that I would boy, that I would!"  He held out his hand.  "Take my hand boy, and rise.  There are some people who need your help."

Aetsarda paused, looked into himself, looked up at at Tyr and grasped his hand firmly.  "Let's do it."


Aetsarda awoke with a start.  His outstretching hand had rolled him out of the water, and he caughed violently.  His fever appeared to be gone.  Had it all been a dream?  Cries of help broke his inner monologue sharply, and he cocked his head in the direction of the cries.  Dream or not, he'd made a promise.

Rescue Renee's character from slave camp -- What race and quantity would the slavers be?  [this will be roleplayed]

The bodies of the fallen strewn about, 8 looked down at his trembling, blood soaked hands and vomited.  He'd hunted game in the wild, sure, but... the murder, even in self defense, of creatures such as himself was...

8 Stiffened as his faith flooded through him.  Necessary.  Their deaths had been necessary to save the innocent.  The guilty were given justice, the innocent were saved.  This was his mission, his destiny.

Strengthened by his faith, 8 began looting the corpses of the fallen, acquiring a few knick knacks and items (see inventory) and a very nice set of armor which would need a few adjustments but would fit him nicely.

And then, he saw the shiny warhammer on the ground.  It looked... somehow familiar to him.  When he grasped it, it just felt... right.  8 Smiled, snapping the hammer onto his back and made his way to town.

: How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?

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