What The Heart would say about your PC

Is this the thread where we jerk off to our OCs?

5e
>Sorcery. Alchemy. One in the same to him.
>His ancestors sold his soul. He wishes to make sure that debt can never be paid.
>At one point he thought he had answers. Now he only has questions.
>He doesn't fear the truth he will find. He fears what will come after he does.

3.5
>He tore out his own eye for power.
>He finds his allies to be insane, annoying, or mysterious. He is the same.
>He cares little for his homeland and people, but he does care.
>The world burns around him and all he can think of is making a new one.
>He takes what he desires from his victims' body and soul.

>foreverdm
>never get to participate in "your character ___" threads

then instead make it about one of the more notable NPCs in your setting! Surely you've got at least one recurring NPC with enough backstory to work with here?

>In the face of adversity, he held on to faith. Now even that is lost to him.
>His body shows the signs of age more and more with every passing day. Soon the morning will come when he does not wake up. His only wish is that someone will notice.
>He tried to be a farmer once. His crops withered and his land went dry. Some hands were made for killing.
>He has long run out of tears to shed for those he hurt in youth. Now he pays his penance in blood.

>Juaqim is a bumbling idiot, but he can rob you blind without you even noticing
>He has raised the blade so many times, yet there is no blood in his hands.
>he carries a vial of poison waiting to give it to a specific man at a specific time
>his love was taken but now returned, but what remained after the loss festers. can it really go back to the way it was?

>Bruce is a man who can never be satisfied with the answers life gives him
>On his tongue there will always be one more monster to kill
>Every scar he has is a time he has defied fate
>Fate will not be cheated forever
>He should accept the joy he has found and rest.

>Petyr, wayward son of House Dufay
>He left the family manor in the dead of night, mind filled with romantic tales of shining armor and fair maidens
>He relives the first time he killed a man every night. It was so simple, and that frightens him to no end.
>He struggles to adapt to the life of an adventurer, but he is determined to do good for this world, or die trying. Hardship be damned.

...

This is Veeky Forums. The whole board is for that.

I love reading these.

>In Keliem's homeland, swordplay is a woman's art. His mother taught him to fight like a woman and to kill like a woman. He duels and kills every man who mocks him for this.
>He will never forget the fire and the smell when the Easom estate burned down and fiends tore the family he served limb from limb.
>The guilt of surviving gnaws at him. He wonders if the two other servants who survived feel the same, and if they too are haunted by nightmares.
>He imagines that if he keeps everyone he meets at arm's length, he won't be hurt when they inevitably leave. It still hurts every time.

Hmm. I guess I'll try that.
She has kept a ragdoll from her childhood and hides it under her bed.
>Miss Rainbow. Her history is a flurry of colors, most of them red.
>Once she was powerful, a paragon. But that didn't save her when the castle came crashing down and Ragnarok came. The world churned from within.
>Few survived those times. Only the merciless flourished in the fresh void.
>And flourish she does, like a mold growing on the freshly dead.
>But her purpose in this universe is known only to her. A thousand year old titan, her cycles of guilt echo through the addled mind. For what ancient act must she atone?

Did you post this because you dont have one?

yes

>He tells his wife he will settle down and become a Gentleman. He knows he will die at sea.
>He once stared down a monstrous horror bigger than his ship. He's never felt as alive as he did that day.
>Blood and salt. He will never escape the twin scents.
>He can no longer look in a mirror without flinching.

>to him, his comrades are family, but to them he's just a replacement
>she hides her scars beneath a mask, but you can still hear them when she speaks
>he carries his bible everywhere, they never taught him how to read it

>She grew up on the streets, committing murder for crusts of bread. Now she lives in a mansion and wears the finest dresses.
>She sees the children running across the roofs of the city, and sees herself in them. There is nostalgia there, but also bitterness.
>Every week, she leaves a basket of food out for the homeless urchins. They have never thanked her.
>She rarely speaks, but she is always watching.
>She has always been comfortable with violence. Society has only made her subtler.

>She is not blind to the ways of the wicked.
>She can not see it, but she feels it all the same.
>She has the heart of a warrior, but the sense of a fool.
>She could have been the best, but she will never see an opportunity to prove it.

>in the slums and back alleys he grew up preying on others
>with knife and club he survived but his smile was hollow and his heart yearned for more
>one day he attended a sermon to escape pursuit and saw the light
>he found a warmth he never knew before
>too bad his new family learned of his past and would like to make use of his skills
>his clothes are finer now but the work is much the same
>the light seems so far now, he feels he needs to leave and find it again

>He knows not what happens to his sister. It consumes him.
>He is commanded by war, but not by his fury.
>His sword was a gift of kindness, the only one of his life.

>He drove himself mad trying to find the suspects, and in his madness covered their trail.
>He has lived for decades believing that he was wrong. Gods help him if he discovers it wasn't an accident after all.
>He enjoys his job as a guardsman, but can't get over the feeling he's missing out on his destiny. If only he knew how true that was.

>>He tried to be a farmer once. His crops withered and his land went dry. Some hands were made for killing.

>The Commander may not be human, but her blood beats just as red. Bleeds the same too.
>Xol'Arc'Jai'Dau'Xol, Hero of Akon VI; they would have called her Butcher if they still lived. She might have preferred it too.
>Though her eyes never saw the cities she burned clean she can see them clearly when her eyes close. They never stop burning, the streets or the people.
>She drinks whiskey to sleep at night, and then again in the morning to forget her nightmares. Her throat burns but the forgetting is merciful.
>Scared thing under her medals and parade-coat. When planes fly overhead she trembles and cries like a lost child.
>What would her mother think of her little soldier now? From the grave she cannot judge her, but she cannot comfort her either.

i got a lot of pcs. I'll just go with
Bongo Jasonson the third for now

>Bongo is not very smart. He doesn't need to be
>Bongo Jasonson the second's fate frove the first to sadness, and the third to rage

>According to bongo, magic is for cowards. What does that make him?

>Magic strength enhancers stunt your growth, stunt your brain, and drive you into rage. enough of them can have more drastic side effects

>A toy soldier, discarded. For now, he is loyal to coin. It's not enough.
>He wanders without direction. Now he's in a lost world.
>Sometimes he thinks about the village and the woman. He regrets leaving, and now it's too late.

>Sometimes, I can hear my production budget fading

>He hopes that steam in his glove will make it up for lacks in his character.
>His greed for technology is little compared to his anger at the world for ignoring his genius.
>His mind may seem of a child, but there is cold, pragmatic logic in the core of it.

Character A:
>His face smiles with warmth, but there is no warmth beneath his face.
>He will offer words of encouragement and a shoulder to lean on. In reality, he would ask of the same.
>He has witnessed a horrible truth of the world. It has left him broken.

Character B:
>He will offer his body blow for blow to help you from hardship. That loyalty is genuine.
>He says he loathes conflict, but his blood boils pleasantly with adrenaline.
>He says he will protect those close to him with all he can give. In truth, it is then he is most dangerous to them.

Character C:
>He finds freedom intoxicating, but perhaps even more scary than his captivity.
>Sometimes, he wishes he could just be a normal face in the crowd.
>He enjoys playing tricks on those who are awakened. He finds their surprise delightful.

>An immortal creature, drowning sorrow in hedonism
>He was made sterile at birth, to save his life from those that hate what he is, he regrets every day that they didn't kill him instead
>There is a kind heart somewhere inside him and it breaks every time a mortal friend dies
>He drinks deep to numb the pain of his tired existence.
>He says his name is Swansong, he hates telling people his full name, because it tells them what he is.
>Imagine it, to be immortal without the touch of tender hands, the softness of a gentle heart, the laughter of children, growing tired with the aeons, knowing you will die unmourned and unloved, I-...please, make me look no more.

>She heals the wounded of the poor, but her mind holds plan worse then any kings

>Neza Naira Nanuk, raised to fight the race war she is fighting to prevent
>She knows the day will come when she will have to give all this up, but she struggles every day to push that day further back
>This one is not afraid of killing, she has killed rabbits, deer, bears, she thinks a human will look no different, through the scope of her rifle
>She knows all the places to hide, but when the time comes she will draw their attention, so others can get away
>She grew tired of being invisible, every day she talks to someone new is a victory in her eyes
>Her Grandfather raised her on stories of his heroics in Vietnam, it wasn't until she grew older and first read a comic book that she realized they were all lies.
>One day she will lead it, the super ethno-state and head the revolution, at least, that is what they all think, for now she works in a diner

>He wishes for a better life, yet doesn't work for it. A shame for one of much potential.
>He lies to himself that he's jolly about the life he leads. He even admits that he needs help.
>There's embers of a once burning pride here. Maybe one can light it again.
>He hides behind a curtain of cheery extroversion and self-deprecating sarcasm to hide his introversion and cold loneliness.

>He is too young to be so cold.
>The more he hides behind his mathematical view of the world, the more he believes in it
>He is already falling. Deep down, he knows about this corruption that he let into his heart.

>I see both of them.
>How they came to share this body is an atrocious tale. How unnecessary that was.
>Their mind is an impregnable fortress. Yet, the magician's fear opened a crack in the walls. The warrior knows how to defend it.

>I cannot see anything about this man
>The whales... Know him.

...

>He sought to stem the tide by dealing with the old myths at the edge of civilization.
>It worked, for a time, until the price came due.
>Now his people fear and shun him as he holds his heart in his hands and wonders.

I think that's a picture of my DM's heart.

>Thomas Wesker; a turncoat, cattlerustler, cheat, and murderer. His hands are stained all the way down to the marrow.
>For all he is steeped in sin, Thomas could never bring himself to harm the young, or hounds. He was captured by a boy he spared.
>He repented on the gallows, a sincere and earnest gesture. His first in a long time.
>He treats his duty with near-reverence. He has served the longest.
>He hates the traitors most. He understands them.

>Abigail Whidders; a woman of refinement, nobility, and wealth. Hung for murder. This is her first service as a Shepard.
>In life she was hounded by paranoia and mania. Death has brought her clarity and sorrow.
>She poisoned her husband and strangled his sister. She thought they were lovers.
>Her left eye sees all, her right eye sees the truth. When she searches the mirror she sees nothing.
>Abigail surprised herself in her first shootout. Pulling the trigger was so simple.

What the fuck is that shit? WAT! This triggered me and I don't even know why! I had to open your link.
>"The Heart is a mystical object created by the Outsider and given to Corvo Attano to assist him throughout the events of Dishonored"
What the fuck! What is that in the center? Its eye?
For somehow this image made me mad! user whyyyyyyy

It's a piece of magitech made from a woman's heart. The thing in the middle is a window that lets you view the mechanisms inside. It also glows when you're near a magical artifact.

>Carolus believes in his right to rule, over who is just a matter of who he can make flinch.

>He once slit a man's throat for calling him weak, and the memory still brings a smile to his lips.

>Bane is a cruel master to him, but the hand that strikes can also be the one that guides.

>At night he dreams of conquest, and during the day he fights for the ideals of an empire long dead.

>He is unbound by the scruples of his companions. They resent him for it.
>He watches them plot against him. He lies awake at night, waiting for the blade.
>He sees their meetings, hidden in the night. He has eyes unseen.
>To him, they look only like rats. Swarming together to kill a bigger beast. He will not die so easily.

this thread is so cringey

...

>cringey

>He left her in sorrow. A lifetime of trust washed away in a moment of rage
>The bard sings no songs and his unthinking cruelty grates- but his fathers wisdom stays the falling blade
>He will return one day and make things right. She will not be there when he does and the debt will go unpaid

Bump

>He is a hard man, rigid, unforgiving, and unrelenting, with little sympathy for others left in him. He will do anything to fullfill his Duty. He does not know how to give up.
>When he was younger he and the first charge he had to protect were captured by pirates on the sea. He tore them both out of captivity. This had made him a hero when they returned.
>He despises his current charge and everything about him. He will still give his life to protect him if necessary.
>He hates the tale others made about his pirate captivity. For one, it was not his strength alone that got them out, but others were forgotten. His charge was old enough to be his mother, and there was never much amiability between them, yet they turned it into a love story. This cost him the one he actually loved.
>His reputation brought him fame, respect, and appointments as a bodyguard for high and powerful, set in comfortobale places in warm corners of the Empire. He never wanted those. He wants to stand with his clan brothers, bleeding and dying alongside them. But he will never disobey an order.
>Failure is what he fears the most. His best friend and idol died when he got too drunk to notice those who went after his charge and let them get killed. He died in shame. This man knows that he will not withstand the humiliation of such failure. He would die before he is ordered to do so.

>He walks again, compensating for his short lifespan by taking his own life when his skills are no longer needed.
>To call that blade an extension of his body would be profane. It's so much more.
>He carries a duty that would crush the greatest of kings, and drive even the most devout of the clergy to apostasy.
>Fate has no hold on this one. His coin is on edge.

>Her body began to fail her as a child. She held on long enough to cheat that wasting death.
>She sustains her new form with the flesh of others. Over the centuries, thousands have passed into her maw.
>Her body is her least powerful weapon. Be wary of her mind, or yours will be wrent asunder.

>This one is ancient beyond reckoning. He was old when the gods were young.
>He lost the mortal he loved. She stands by his side even now, but the curse renders him blind to her.
>This is one of the few devils that will offer you a fair deal. He knows how far mortals will go to avenge the wrongfully bound.

>He welded himself to the armor for the sake of his countrymen. His sacrifice was in vain.
>The lord he serves is as corrupt as any demon. He knows of it, and can do nothing to stop him.
>His mother is to blame for more of his suffering than he'll ever truly know.

>History's worst monsters will pale in comparison to her, should she succeed. She knows this, and it brings a smile to her face.
>If you fall into her hands, death will be a luxury that she won't afford you.
>Even the mindless and the dead recoil from her presence. The ground beneath her feet trembles in trepidation.

>I see not one, but two men behind those eyes. Neither of them belong there.
>He works to revive the oldest church. If he remains as unhindered as he is now, crusades will be fought under his banner.
>One is but a boy. The other is a machine mind that the bleakest tomes thought destroyed.

This one is the most interesting so far. What's the game/system?

Honestly, I use these threads to spitball characters I have in my head but haven't found a home for. I've had a fantasy western setting circling in my head for a long time and threads like these always make me think about it.

Most of my Veeky Forums characters are pretty honest people by nature and I couldn't come up with many heart quotes for them, since the heart only tells secrets.

>His family was gone. Despite all he tried, he would never bring them back.
>He trained a new family, taught them as best he could, hoping to fill the void the first family leaving made.
>Deep in his heart, he knows he poisoned the well. This new family will be a parody, and at most will accomplish petty revenge.
>if he ever asked himself if he'd prefer an unsettled feud and new family living, or a settled feud and a family dead once again, he'd know he'd rather see more graves.

you're asking to see a person's secrets. Stuff they don't advertise. You're not going to get a lot of light hearted fun stuff.

"She died once due to desperation, she makes sure not to waste her second chance"
"Everyday she trains her mind and body, everyday she prays it will be enough to see them through"
"She has lost so much in such short a time, and fears losing even more"
"Her companions are an odd bunch, and she is no better, perhaps that is why she likes them"
"She loves her family and her brother, and yearns to return to them...yet there is work to be done"
"Sometimes she hates the destiny given to her, hates the war they have to fight...but she speaks of this to no one"
"At night she still sheds tears for those lost and those she could not save"
"She never was good at being ladylike, being a warrior is in her blood, she has her father to thank for it"

Hoshiro, a Shosuro Courtier. (L5R setting where the Shosuro family tried instating another coup and backing the wrong horse).
>The last of his family, Hoshiro's entire life is now dedicated to return honor to its name.
>The mask never really fit him, but it serves its purpose.
>His wife and children are the only thing binding him to this world.
>His loyalty was to the last Emperor. If only he could've been saved.
>Soon, there will be no-one left to carry on the lineage, for though they let him keep the name, he had married a Crane.

Reginald Jeeves, a high-class Fixer
>His family is old, and his life is storied. But, he only wishes for the quiet hum of a simple day.
>He has sent dozens of bodies to their demise, and hundreds more to their next meal.
>Jeeves spent his entire life hiding his work from his family. It has worked so far.
>The underworld knows not to cross with Reginald Jeeves, or his business. For, it will reflect on them, tenfold.
>His sister is the only one that truly understands him, but work keeps them both apart.

Vladimir Ivanovich, a Winter Guard recruit
>Khador's honour rests on his axe, and his pistol.
>His father was a Winter Guard just like him, once. Despite his aged and frail body, his mind still believes it.
>His captain demanded his group charge into the enemy. Through the artillery, he was the only survivor.
>The fire of Khador burns in his heart. But only if his hands were so brave.
>Vladimir once saved a Cygnar woman from a mortar shelling. She rewarded him with a knife to the ribs.

They walk as one...for now.

She rides the black waves like a person born to it, although one would hardly consider her to be alive.

His mind echoes, empty and still.

She is nothing given flesh, walking like a hollow sore on the world.

Ah, a twisted reflection: a man with no heart.

>She sleeps with strangers, pretending they're the love of her life
>Her hands were made for surgery, but are invaluable for injury
>All the drugs she's taken, but the woman's face has never left
>She will die old and alone, holding the last photo of her

My character really doesn't take breakups that well.

>Jeff Santirai walks in his mentor's shadow. It's rather bright for an inquisitor.
>He thought that a khorne berserker was the worst that could happen to him. He was wrong.
>He found killing greater demons easier than solving his personal issues.
>Jeff wants to rest, but knows he can't. There's job to do.

...

Fuck off.

>Towering stalwart. Searing steam and scorching oil. Hinges greased with blood.
>His soul is manufactured. One day, he will be forced to meet the template.
>He wishes time would pass more slowly. His last friend withered while he persisted. He misses her.
>He dreams of feeling the warm embrace of another.

>doesn't take breakups very well
No kidding!

Edgemaster dwarf cannibal monk
>This one knows the taste of thinking flesh. Alone and blind in the crushing dark he breaks the second law to live another day
>He thought the voices proof of his own fractured mind. Time showed him the truth
>Flesh-gorged evil has made him hollow. A beast, enslaved to unnatural hunger and gorged with stolen strength
>Strike this one true! There is no salvation for the willing dammed

>Helmut believes himself to be foolish. He is not wrong but his foolishness is a virtue.
>The walking dead, the evil of men, the horrors that lurk at the edges of civilization. None of these things can damage his belief in that the world can be saved.
>Helmut is still eager to see the world, to push ever eastward, despite the vitria horrors and crushing hopeless cold he's desperate for the forgotten holds of knowledge and their life giving treasure.
>Helmut von Schwarzerfluss is the only child of his family immune to the miasma and he is only too proud to push into the poisoned east in the hopes of finding a way to share that immunity with everyone that the world may be just a little fairer and brighter.
>He is a Knight, and he will not yield.

>Egon carries a ghost with him. The ghost of a saner, civilized nation put to death by the Fuhrer's imperial dreams.
>He spent many years living as Hermann Heddwigg, a depraved Shuttzstaffel officer who was tortured to death by the Maquis.
>When the british asked him to betray his homeland he refused. In the end it was not their threats to deport his poor deformed nephew that turned him but proof of the Party's depravity.
>He believes himself a monster but he is one of the last good men left in a nation that has seen too much blood shed.

>Despite all her bravado and boasting Gutjja only awoke to the call of battle in the cold ash and mud.
>How she clothes herself in the trinkets of the lost, Clinging to old memories and feeling inadequate.
>She aims for glory and fame, yet she knows its only fleeting.
>A dark rage tempered by half-remembered discipline, She fears to become what she hates.
>She misses them dearly, So she calls upon their spirits. It is not the same.

These threads are great, but the issue is always a lack of interaction.
Rate the post above yours or something.

>Jackson. He says his name family is Trankurd. He doesn't know thats a lie.
>They call him the wolf of humanity. They always forget wolves live in packs.
>Sometimes when he sleeps his party hear his musings. They don't like what they hear.
>His power is likened to the jaw of a beast. If only they knew how right they are.
>Jackson is his name. Sometimes he doubts it.
>The memory of getting thrown out still sticks with him. He doesn't want to but he's going to make sure it sticks with them too.
>He doubts his strength compared to Archus. He doubts his knowledge against Sear. He doubts his worth against Rag. They all doubt their wills against him.
>He didn't plan to. But the foe certainly wish he had.

>Balthasar never wanted to be a leader of any kind, for he knew that he could be unpredictable at best.
>He is a bringer of untold calamity. Natural disaster. Unnatural fates. Impossible phenomena. Eldritch things from beyond.
>Balthasar Wildstone is the first child of his family to succumb to the curse of wild magic. More followed.
>His curse has put his family into harm's way twice. He promised himself not to return to them anymore.
>A saint by chance, unwilling and unfitting. He strives to be worthy of the title.
>13 times has he been to the bleak halls of Kelemvor, more than any mere mortal should. Myrkul has grown tired of him, cursed being.
>He nor his troupe is no longer welcome to the material plane, bound by the Heavenly Pact.
>He knows he will be exiled from the realms for good, but he can't stand idly by as Bane rules over his home plane with an iron fist.
>He is obsessed with magic and artifacts. Not even common sense will get in his way.

>Poor Lotte, she only wanted to be a teacher.
>Most of what she knows is self-taught, some had to be made up to save her own life.
>During quiet moments, she and the priest discuss theology, magical theory, anything to distract them from what they're facing.
>She sends letters home when she can. Most of the truth is left out, her parents worry enough already.

>Vaerg Angramm, a wild dwarf, dweller on the surface. Belittled by his cousins under the mountain, he vowed to make them swallow their words.
>Faith unto a totem of beasts. What does this make him?
>No foe is too big for him. A warrior's death, he will take no more, no less.
>The world is his hunting grounds and his enemies mere game to hunt for his thirsting axe.
>He sometimes doubts his decision to take his tribe to far and foreign lands with him. He drowns it in mead and meats.
>A hunter has tasted the primal urges of a lycanthrope. Abhorred, he purged the curse, but not the beast.

Poor Lotte, verily. Sounds like common people are facing utterly horrifying things, and surviving it to make it even worse.

>When he steps he causes cracks to appear under his feet. He doesn't mean it.
>He remembers the time he crushed that mans spine...and the girls...and the dogs... and every single one afterwards...
>When they put him in the grave they said he'd come back. They didn't say how.
>The hammer was hot and the nail was hotter but they never expected him to be the hottest.
>Fire follows behind him. He can't stay still for long. One day he'll have to stop moving.
>They call him Flint. His name is Yarvig Jannin. Not even he knows this.

>Maria Whiteglade. A slave and a heretic in the eyes of the lords. A beacon of hope to the common people.
>Theresa Sawbones. A facade, false identity crafted by her order. The memory of her true self is slowly drowning in blood and death.
>Blind faith unto a saint never meant to be. Her faith will be shaken like never before if she learns the truth.
>Filled with remorse she prays for all those she failed to rescue.
>Slave to a cruel master. Still better fate than execution for heretical beliefs.
>She delivers the arms and armor of her fallen enemies to the rebellion. "Sister Pain" they call her, while she is not around them.
>No rest, no respite. Not until the Black Hand is driven out.
>One strike of the scourge for every failure to the Crying God's creed. The scars on her back mount in these troubled times.
>Illness gnaws at her mind, barely kept in check by arduous meditation. Rage and despair.

>A thousand voices are in her head. What would we even call her?
>She never had an interest in machines; but her mother wanted them, so she left home for them.
>She always looks out the window when she travels; others think it's because she longs for adventure. Oh, how wrong they are.
>Privately, she tries to think of a name. Always, she fails. Her heart breaks a little more every time.
>There are always sedatives on her person. She takes them, a drop at a time - the adrenaline if she doesn't scares her.

>Isiki loved her father. Her mother too, once.
>When she's alone, she speaks to herself. That voice has only fallen on her ears since youth.
>The writings of her friends are both her work, and her pleasure. She'd kill them if they knew.
>The world once held so much for Isiki; the war made it small enough she can see it all from here.
>Her life will be dominated by regret. She doesn't know it yet... but she suspects.

>they call him the wolf, but he is so much more.
>He was once an eloquent man. Now the beast has taken over... for the most part.
>he has learned to survive at the cost of forgetting how to live.
>they hunt him. They want the beast inside him. Poor fools; they only find him.
>of all the terrible crimes of this man, he regrets only one. Its painful rememberance is what makes his human mind endure.
> He will never know death. His curse will drive him insane until the beast needs the man as the man needed the beast.

>He keeps his old knightly traditions thinking they make him better than the monsters he consorts with.
>He claims to be her savior but was she who saved him.
>Sometimes he wishes he never looked at that book
>He could end his search whenever he wants, he only must give in to madness.
>The day he read it he grasped beyond the boundaries of mortal minds, the essence of pure absolute energy, now it consumes him.
>He would give her his soul if he had not sold it already.

>the white protector of Naelar; doom of Nyria and a scourge to all.
>he is the result of a misunderstood prophecy. By the actions of others he was dragged to his fate.
>he only wished to protect what he now longs to destroy.
>but the vengeance he seeks is futile and self destructive.
>Hidden forces guide his hand... and his tragedy. He has to play his part so that others can rise.
>such deep sorrow... and such deception. Has this man's suffering no end?
> Under some other circumstances, he would have become a hero of legend. It was once his most intimate wish.... but the gods had other plans for him.

>Grobin...Such an odd name for a businessman. But I suppose Goblin parents aren't known for their creativity.
>So cool and collected, but I see a fire inside, waiting to be unleashed on his family
>He's been wronged so much that he can't help but push others away, but I sense...fear. Fear deep down of dying alone and forgotten
>It seems potions aren't the only creations of his, His suit is handmade. Though he hopes nobody will find out.

>They say he is a servant of death. They are right.
>he emerges from the mist and rides toward his prey. Then, he vanishes into it.
>he has slain indescribable horrors. It was only a matter of time before he became one himself.
>many paladins turn against their god when their own strength fails them. He enjoys watching them fall into madness, then kills them.
>where people see holiness he sees only hypocrisy.
>though he doesn't seek revenge, fate often grants him so. He doesn't shy away from it.
>the knight of the mists is fond of blood, for he has none of his own. An empty armor and spectral fog is all that is left of him.

>She carries a beast within herself... and alongside herself
>When her rage fell out of hand, she drowned it in strong alcohol
>Her convictions are but a veil for her greed
>She dons the robe willingly, but how long until the gods see what lies under the hood?
>She charges forward into battle, but only because of what she left behind
>A trail of blood flows from her claws, no matter how much she tries to rinse it off

>She is cruel and mischievous, a terrible and broken human being... poor child.
>The only warm feelings her heart bears are for her Master.
>She thought her mother didn't love her. She ran away from home. A peasant found her sleeping in her cart and beat her dead. No; that cannot be!
>The little girl embraced onto her Master like he was death itself. That is why he didn't allow it.
>Why does she admire him so much? Can't she see? She is in danger!
>An old woman took care of her and loved her like her own. The little girl murdered her in her sleep because she opposed her Master.
>Someday, he will betray her and murder her. She will cry out for that old woman. "Mom, please!" She will say. Poor twisted child.
>Have no pity for her; she is more guilty than many.

>His youth was populated with glamorous friends, but he received no farewells.
>he has brushed shoulders with death more than most. Now the familiarity invigorates him.
>He fears having no reason to crusade with his comrades more than the vileness they face.
>He spent a year carousing while they rotted in prison.

He plays the part of the hero but when pushed will become a villain.

He doesn’t drink to forget, but to remember when everything fell apart

>His companions lost their minds in that temple. He found his.
>Out there in the jungle, he learned that everything he knew was a lie. He could not be happier.
>His mind moves faster now, unclouded by doubt. For the first time, he does not feel that crushing weight on his back.
>He finally has his purpose. A cause to die for.
>He knows he will not survive the coming battles. It excites him.

> He still has retained his passions. After all these years.
> He has come to the capital as a simple merchant. If guards knew the secrets he is hiding, they would kill him immediately.
> Just like a knight from an old legent, he could have "Deprived of legacy" inscribed on his shield. But he does not have a shield.
> A soul held within a machine. He never wanted to kill, but he did not want to die either.
> Even he sometimes does not understand himself.

>Gott Brando. He forsook the law to avenge the failings of his father.
>He turned to Baal for wealth when his blood failed.
>Blood is thicker than water, but nuyen thicker than both.
>He's constructed an elaborate web of lies and bluffs but can he keep it together?
>Can a child stand up in the world of adults? only time will tell.

40K?
BTW, this is all about different characters.

>Elyril has paid a whore to watch her fight before and she will do it again, she is a slave to her performer's heart
>The first man she killed rots in the Autumn rain. Stabbed in the back over a handful of coin and a pinch of white powder. His comrades think he slipped and fell to beasts. Today only the whores know what happened
>She must learn to fly. To soar to greatness. Before mediocrity, and the drugs her uncle shares blunt the razor's edge of her talent.

>Vor's comrades fear his fury, a rift time has not repaired
>Foolish in youth and wiser with age he still repeated the old mistakes. He blames the storm-madness, the thunder's rage- it cannot be his fault
>In his heart he knows it was pride that drove him to rage. Pride that murdered the love in a princess heart
>He shares his father's wisdom and builds a little trust. Small steps and slow days may yet make amends. Before he dies he will see his little bird again, and find forgiveness

>A pale queen on a fearsome throne. She has proven them wrong a thousand times over and still she is empty
>Idle hands invite misfortune and so she forges weapons. Filling the empty hours with spell-scoured steel, and parasites to pervert the human form
>She has climbed the lonely peaks of power and found only silence, and hatred. Time has turned her success to bitter ash and power has bought her only enemies
>She will go to war and kingdoms will burn. She will show them the end of mysticism and the dawn of magical industry.

No, actually, just what I went with as a character direction after the GM did the whole "go mad from the revelation" thing. He was a 'martyr without a cause' before, looking for a good hill to die on. He's convinced himself that, in the same way ten thousand ants could kill a person, if he raises a big enough army he could kill an Old One. He knows he's not going to survive his "crusade", but he doesn't plan to.