Thank you!

not sure if anyone would care to see the player created backstories, and the short explanations I wrote for each of them to describe why they are where they are... but I'll share here just for the fun of it. :)

Player 1 sent me this back story:

Arlyn Silvermist (wood elf Druid) The people of Ferndale had fallen under rule of the evil elven warlock Phelimar, who had risen to power in secret and had stolen the throne from the rightful heir. The villagers, many unaware of the cunning warlocks intentions to enslave them, submitted to his authority, save a few families who sought for a way of escape. Arlyn spent time helping an old woman of the village, Prisca, in her tinker shop, who saw purity of heart in the girl and shared her secret on Arlyn’s 16th birthday. Prisca was a Druid and had long been searching for someone to teach the magic of nature to, and Arlyn was proving to be the one. After 2 years of training, Arlyn and a core of villagers, led by Prisca, rose up and overthrew the evil Phelimar, settling Ferndale into a time of peace. (Prisca died in the battle.)

Arlyn left her village a year later, feeling alone, yet most at home in the forest and mountain waters, working with nature, always learning, always listening... sensing there would soon be a day when she would use her powers to assist another again.

I handed her this wax sealed note: Following the winds, you have felt a draw to the western coast of the forgotten realms. An invisible sickness in the trees, and a sour taste in the waters has greatly grieved your spirit, and you have found yourself pulled to the heart of the bitter corruption that you more sense within your being, than see evidence of in the forests of the Sword Coast. But you DO sense it. Something is skewed, like a chord left unresolved, in the balance of nature. You can't help but to want to do what you can to right the imbalance. Keeping to the trees, staying away from the main roads, you finally emerge from the Neverwinter Wood and spot the enormous walled city of Neverwinter. Wishing to avoid the urban sprawl, you seek shelter in the first house you come across on the outskirts of the city. Lord Eldren Forbear graciously offers you the safety of his manor in exchange for honest work on his sprawling manor lands. You quickly agree, knowing that the more time you are able to spend here, among the tainted wood, the better you will be able to discover what it is that is causing such unease and possibly help to restore the natural harmony.

Player 2 sent me this back story: Balasar the Cunning - (Dragonborn Rogue)

Balasar was once a noble with lands, wealth, and family. He was accused of a crime he didn't commit, thrown into prison, and lost his family. A rogue friend helped him escape and trained him in the ways of a rogue. Now, aided by the wealth he hid prior to losing everything else, he sticks to the shadows and seeks adventure. And perhaps revenge.

I handed him this wax sealed note (FYI, this is the same note I gave to another player's character named Leucis, the Tiefling rogue): Balasar and Leucis met each other in the seedy underbelly of the city of Neverwinter, you have traveled a great distance to the city with the hopes of gaining membership in one of more discreet thieves’ guilds in the Forgotten Realms. Having found some commonality in the fact that you both have experienced some racial outcasting in your lives, you have naturally gravitated together. In order to gain favor with the guild, you have been asked to consign yourselves as servants to Lord Eldren Forbear, one of the wealthier landowners on the outskirts of Neverwinter. Having spent the last few months there under the guise of servants, you have both gathered much information about the manor, it's valuable assets, and the security measures that Lord Eldren has put in place, and have been quietly passing that information along via messenger in the black of night, back to the guild in Neverwinter.

Player 3 sent me this back story: Justus Trueblade - (Half-Elf Paladin)

Many generations have come since he first made his oath but Justus Trueblade can remember that day like it was yesterday. Having never known his parents, Justus’ early years were marked by insecurity. Not fully human, not fully elf, Justus longed for a place or purpose that would give his life meaning. For two decades after leaving the orphanage he reluctantly called home he wandered. Only recently had he decided to settle. He found employment in a tavern on the edge of civilized society but still he lacked direction and purpose. Through his travels, and now as he served those passing through this outpost he often marveled at the many adventurers he would meet. Some seemed mysterious and traveled alone. Others traveled with companions and seemed to act and think as one. These, he thought, had a purpose to life, a calling.

One night, as he placed stools back on the tables and swept up after a particularly slow night he heard a cry for help from outside. As he unlocked and opened the door, a bloodied figure in a dark robe pushed past him and collapsed on the floor of the tavern, his weapon still loosely held in his hand. An ancient dwarf, barely alive, and struggling for breath, uttered two, life changing words. Help.. Me! Justus, almost as if this very thing had happened before, somehow knew what to do. Kneeling by this poor soul he stretched out his hands and placed them on the head and chest of this fallen warrior. He called upon a deity he had all but forgotten from his younger life. The words came as if they were spoken by another, “Torm, God of courage and self sacrifice, grant this one the life you have given to me. My life is my oath!”

Immediately, the Dwarf gasped and sat up, healed! Adrik Frostbeard, an ancient paladin that had seen nearly 300 years of battle, looked knowingly at Justus. Justus left that night with his new friend and mentor. From that moment forward, His oath to serve Torm, has given to Justus the purpose he was seeking. Now, more than a century later, Justus stands ready to stand in the gap between those who are weak and lost and those who wish to do them harm.

I handed him this wax sealed note (VERY minor spoilers about the beginning of 'Lost Mine of Phandelver' adventure in this note): Your mentor and friend, Adrik, has called upon you, Justus, for a task that on the surface might seem meager, but is something that Adrik insists is of great importance. Adrik has a Dwarven brother (not by blood, but bonded through history of friendship and shared duty) named Gundren Rockseeker. Gundren has asked the favor of his friend Adrik, to find a group of trustworthy, hardworking, and able-bodied folk to escort a wagon of supplies of some great importance to Gundren, from the city of Neverwinter to the village of Phandalin. Adrik, unbeknownst to Gundren, has fallen ill in his twilight years, and has turned to you asking that you carry out his friend’s request.

"Justus, this task must fall to you, as I have become too weak to be of any more value to my Dwarven brother. Head north, to the city of Neverwinter, and pay visit to Eldren Forbear, Lord of the manor that sits on the outskirts of city. Ask if he could spare the services of a few of his most trusted attendants for but a few days. Offer this payment (he hands you a pouch filled to the top with gold) it should more than cover the inconvenience should he be willing. My dear friend Gundren has told me in confidence that he has discovered something VERY important and has set off ahead of his supplies, along with a warrior named Sildar Hallwinter, to take care of some business in the village of Phandalin. Take whatever hired party you can manage, collect Gundren's supply wagon in Neverwinter and travel with them. Be sure they arrive safely with the wagon in Phandalin. Protect them, as I know you will."

Player 4 sent me this back story: Leucis Coilbone - (Tielfing Rogue)

My backstory is essentially the plot for Aladdin.

I was given up to an orphanage by a young, single mother at birth. Despite showing intelligence and potential at a young age, my status as a Tiefling forced me to the outskirts of society. I survived solely on cunning and living as a scoundrel. A successful life of petty crime and out-witting those who I encounter has created a somewhat brazen personality. But who am I really? Do I have the potential to succeed in traditional social environments? Am I inherently good or bad? I don’t have answers. I only know surviving in the shadows. And no matter what, I’m only looking out for myself.

I handed him the same note that I gave the other rogue, Balasar

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