Best Of

Here's the story of my character, Alawaka (sorry for the novella). Alawaka is a LN Water Genasi Paladin.

(And apparently I found Vanilla's comment size limit. I'll have to break this into three parts)

The Tale of Alawaka
Part I: The Gift From Above

As with many tales in the Forgotten Realms, stories wild and fantastical often mingle with the mundane and humdrum; but everyone knows that the truth can usually be found somewhere in between.

So it goes with this one. As it is told, a genie known as a "Marid" from the mythical Elemental Plane of Water found herself visiting Faerun. For reasons unknown, she took as a mate a simple sailor; a man who knew not what twist of fate had brought him to this bizarre union.

The Marid had her way with the Man and then disappeared. He wasn't sure it had even happened, and his shipmates began to whisper that he was cursed and that doom would befall him; that man should not consort with gods.

Some months later the ship was sailing the Sea of Fallen Stars; a standard trade run between the port of Procampur, avoiding the Pirate Isle, and on to Westgate.

The night was clear and starry and the sailor was on deck, admiring the night sky during his turn at the watch. The sea was calm and clear. Suddenly, with no warning, the water began to rise in a silent tendril. The ship remained steady but the tendril of water approached him directly. He was rooted with fear. The tendril carried an object and as it got closer he could see the object was in the shape of an infant.

The tendril slowly lowered the infant to the man and he instinctively held out his arms. The water bubble holding the child slid away, briefly touching the sailor's hands. The water tendril, despite the coldness of the Sea, was warm to the touch. As the water slid away, depositing the infant in the man's outstretched hands, the baby took a gulp of air and began squalling. The tendril rapidly receded and went back into the water with nary a sound.

The baby was blue. The sailor, a simple man from the Dragon Coast, had no idea what to do. He quickly clamped his hand over the baby's screaming mouth lest the Captain awaken. He was terrified.

Convinced that the baby was dying to lack of breath, he glanced around and noticed that no alarm had been raised, that nobody seemed to be aware of the events taking place on the deck. He wasn't sure if he wanted help or if anybody would believe what happened. He started to fear that he would be blamed for the inevitable death of this bizarre creature.

He panicked.

He tossed the infant overboard, heard a splash, and then blessed silence descended upon him. He was shaking with fear.

Moments later another sailor came around from the other side of the deckhouse.

"You hear something?"...

"N...no. Not a thing."

The Tale Of Alawaka
Part II: The Gift From Below

Life with the Merfolk was a good, simple life. There were animals to be raised and fed, crops to be harvested, and repairs to be made. The Sea was bountiful and Eeodar was kind to those who worshiped him.

The beauty of young children is that they are blind to vast differences; as long as a child can play with another one, a few simple questions put aside all differences with a shrug. When a child from the village encountered young Alawaka, he would inevitably glance at his bizarre tail: Two legs ending in slightly webbed human feet. He would ask, "Why is your tail like that?" and the answer would come: "I don't know. It just is..." and since he could swim and play and keep up with the other kids, that was the end of that.

When he was older he asked his parents, "Why don't I have fins and a tail? Why don't I look like you?" they knew in their hearts that the end was coming all too soon; the child that literally dropped into their lives from above would have to be told the truth.

The child grew. His parents explained to him that he was a human and what that meant. "But how can I be human? They're not blue. They can't breathe water!"

The honest truth was, they weren't quite sure themselves. Magic? Touched by the gods? They were simple seaweed farmers. Even the shaman wasn't sure. When the child arrived, the whole village prayed to Eeodar for an explanation, but none came.

"Alawaka, you are one of us. You were a gift from Eeodar. You came from above. We raised you. We love you."

Alawaka never felt like anything other than one of the Merfolk; until the day his parents decided he needed to see the world above and become a part of it.

Merfolk of the Sea of Fallen Stars had good relations with those in Procampur and often traded with them. So it came that Alawaka's parents decided to find a human mentor for their obviously human child. He needed to learn skills with arms, the Common tongue, and how to live in the human world because they knew he would be a part of it. At first, Alawaka was not excited but when he met the man who would teach him combat skills, language arts, and the human method of sailing, he became excited to learn.

Torvek became as a second father to young Alawaka. Within a year he was fluent in the Common tongue of the human cities and a fair hand with a blade. His strength was considerable, being that he spent his young days help his parents on his farm and, well, water is thicker than air. When he was "above", as he came to refer to it, he felt free and light as a feather. He could lift far more than other kids his age and what most considered heavy labor to him seemed a simple chore.

He occasionally visited his parents back home but started to feel roots in both worlds. His Uncle Torvek was a kind and fair figure in his life and he began to see his parents as the simple folk they were. He knew that the world above was much more cosmopolitan than the Sea and began to develop wanderlust; seeing all the difference races and creatures of the big city only served to fuel the fire.

Time passed and Alawaka became a young man. His visits home were fewer and further between.

Then, one evening, Torvek stormed into the small house they shared.

"Alawaka!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

Alawaka came out from his room. Seeing Torvek in such a state was very rare, as he was always a kind and even-tempered man.

"Uncle, what is it? What's got you in such a state?"

"Sit down, boy. Sit down and calm yourself. Breathe deeply for what I am about to tell you is going to be very difficult to hear."

Terrified at Torvek's ominous words, he sat. He breathed deeply.

"Boy, I heard a nasty rumor this evening in the tavern. Three mermen and a mermaid washed ashore. They had been dead for some time. The condition of their bodies was in a bad way. Some looked into it and discovered more bodies along the coast. Now, there's nothing saying what happened but I thought you should know that there's a lot of talk of Naga in the Sea and this is a bad portent. Merfolk bury their dead as we do. There's no reason but a foul one for a Merfolk to rise up and wash ashore."

Breathing heavily, and with a deep sense of dread in his heart, Alawaka's skin flushed dark blue.

"Uncle, you know..."

"Now pipe down, boy. I know what you're about to say and I'm telling you now that I'm not going to be the one to stop you. You're old enough and handy enough to protect yourself. I know what this means and I wanted you to hear it from me rather than on the streets. I told you because I'm prepared to let you go see what's about. Go check on your folks. Go see to their health. I know you'll get down there and find everything in order. I'm sure it has nothing to do with your home."

"Yes, Uncle. Thank you." He leaped from his chair.

He quickly gathered his possessions, threw on his travel clothes, grabbed his blade, and nearly ran out the door that very moment before stopping in front of Torvek again.

"Uncle. Thank you. For everything."

Torvek nodded with a grim face. They embraced and then Alawaka was out the door.

The Tale Of Alawaka
Part III: The Paladin

He didn't quite remember the journey down to his village. He imagined that he must have looked like a madman; a blue man running ragged through the streets and alleys of Procampur, reaching the docks, and diving off directly into the harbor.

Now, as Alawaka sat amidst the carnage of what was once his home, despair was close to overtaking him. He had no idea what to do, where to go, or who to blame for the chaos and madness that surrounded him.

Finding his childhood home destroyed was not the worst of it. Finding no trace of his parents was, in some ways, probably a blessing, but it left him with the kernel of unwanted and unwelcome hope. He was smart and worldly enough to know the truth but the fact that he didn't see his parents' bodies with his own eyes made him want to continue believing that they had somehow escaped where nobody else had.

He sat on a piece of stone, weeping. The corpses of his parents' farm animals set him off on a wave of gut-wrenching sadness, even as he become numb to the dozens of Merfolk bodies floating about. The carnage was thorough and complete, but seeing the innocent octopi, fish, and oysters of his parents farm destroyed was too much to bear. Why was this done? Why kill the animals?

He stared with dead eyes at the strings of kelp hung from the latticework of his garden when suddenly they parted and a face could be seen through the strands.

"A.... Alawaka...?"

Alawaka couldn't believe it. A survivor.

"Alawaka, I cannot believe my eyes. It is you, come from above again. Sure a sign from Eeodar as any there ever was. Oh... oh.... I..."

The elder broke down even as Alawaka leaped up to comfort him. He held the old man as he shook with grief. He had so many questions but couldn't bring himself to begin asking them.

"Grandfather Sadooin, please. I must know. My parents. What happened here?"

Sadooin, who was one of the Elders and one of the Eeodar priesthood, shook his head. Alawaka felt a new wave of despair wash over him.

"They're... They're all dead, my son. All of them. I survived by sheer luck and with the sure blessing of Eeodar. The Naga. The Naga. Why...?" and he broke down again.

The Naga.

Elder Sadooin suddenly straightened his body and all vestige of despair and grief fell away. He became ramrod straight and with terrifying strength gripped Alawaka's shoulders.

"You. You are chosen. It is the word of Eeodar. You are our spear. You are our blade. You will be our vengeance. You must do this! You must!"

"I... I must...."

Sadooin wouldn't let him speak.

"Listen to me, boy" he shrieked. Alawaka was terrified. It was as if Sadooin's body was possessed; his entire voice and demeanor changed. He could swear his eyes even changed color.

"Listen well and nary a word speak. You are my chosen. You will seek out those that did this. You will be the wrath of these good people. You will be the terror of these good people. You will be the tears of these good people. You will be every man, woman, and child in this good place and you will remind those that did this that today they made a grave mistake. They have defiled Eeodar's own and thus they have defiled me. You will find them and destroy them. You can walk amongst men and swim amongst those of the sea alike. Your path begins above. You will do this in my name, Eeodar. You, Alawaka, I name my Paladin. Vengeance is ours."

Shivering with uncontrollable fear, Alawaka stood and watched as Sadooin's grip loosened. The light in his eyes went out and he slumped. He began to float away. The elder was dead.

Next up we have @J 's character, Ox, who is a Dragonborn Fighter.

The Tale of Nydestorm Oxplossion

Nydestorm Oxplossion or, “Ox” as many people call him, is a Dragonborn decedent of the Blue Dragons. As his name implies he’s from the Northern Nydestorm Clan and born to a powerful Elder. The Nydestormians are proud group of Dragonborns who’s have trained some of the best fighters in the land and any mention of their army brings fear to potential foes.

Once when Ox was a child he let loose a mighty sneeze and out came a lightning bolt that hit several Oxen in the Nydestormian cattle fields. Exploded them into bits and mentally injuring the rest of the heard. The explosion of these beast gave Ox his name and since then things have been rough for the young Dragonborn.

As he grew, he was trained to be a fighter. He is a deadly with a sword as he is with a cross bow and was becoming a very skilled Nydestormian soldier. However, Ox never felt quite right with his clan. They were very conservative and anyone who went against the clans strict standards was quickly dealt with.

This was a source of anxiety for the young one. You see, he found himself with homosexual tendencies and as time went on hiding those tendencies was beginning to be very difficult. All this came to a head when he was caught with another male giving wing massages and painting each other’s claws. The clan chieftains where furious and sentences both Dragonborns to death. Ox’s father pleaded with council to spare his child. And as a sign of respect for the Elder, Ox was spared, but was forced into exile.

Living alone for the first time is rough for a Dragonborn. He long for a new clan to call his own and not be cast aside for being different. He lived in the western woods for a while before gaining the confidence to show his face is town. There he waits, looking for adventure, freedom and some friends to enjoy life with.

Now for @jhive 's character, Varlo Canta, a monk.

The Tale of Varlo Canta

Geraldt lifted the floppy hat from his head and shooed away the crowding sweat. Fate had taken much from him, but at least he had his hat.

He cringed as he heard the shouts erupt, dropping the empty beggar’s can that was the source of his scarce meals. Just another day in the roughs, he thought, watching the unkempt fella spring from the corner, quickly weaving his way through the market. A nearby guard observing the commotion moved in to intercept the shaggy man.

Scanning the market, the beggar shifted the hat on his head, cursing the lousy fool for scaring away his potential patrons. His attention snapped back to the spectacle when three rapid cracks shocked the air. Geraldt was rewarded with the spectacle of a flying guard with blood arcing from his nose. The man tucked a pair of dueling canes behind his back and slid into the nearby alley, ejecting an elderly man in his place. The pursuing mob filed into alley, parting around the ancient man who leaned on his cane, shaking his fist.

Varlo Canta shuffled his way towards one of the market stalls and feigned interest in the wares. He glanced back through the alley and smirked as his tails chased a ghost. He stretched out the muscles in his face, and straightened his posture. Tucking his dueling cane behind his back, he retrieved a rag and wiped the dust from his face. Back to my handsome old self, he thought, shrugging off the remainder of his disguise.

He turned away from the merchant's table and stopped. A beggar sat, staring at Varlo with his mouth hanging open in shock. Not every day you see a man get back forty years I bet, Varlo chuckled. Varlo walked over to the man. “Nice hat. trade you.” He said. “It’s my lucky hat, my favorite”, the beggar replied. Varlo reveled in the beggar's accent: a wonderful sample what the roughs have to offer. He took the hat from the man’s head, and dropped the golden trinket in the tin cup by the beggar’s feet. “It’s my lucky hat, my favorite”, Varlo said, perfectly replicating the characteristic accent, and sauntered off.