14-01-2010, 10:57 PM
I'm using the Profile Update thread as an excuse to post this. I'm not sure I'm viewed as really being able to write in a "serious" mode. So, just for kicks, here is my background story of the character I will be playing in an ongoing Ravenloft campaign. It's serious with a twist of irony or humor.
Senator Wrote:Everyone knows him as Dog Winters, or just Dog. He is a massive brute whose stature commands respect when he enters a room. When he leaves that room though, people laugh and snicker for he is also hideous ugly. He wasn't always this way though.
Dog's real name is Abbeygail Winters. His mother Brameada always wanted a little girl and even attempted sorcery to get one. She seduced a sorcerer and got pregnant, then had him try and magically ensure the child would be a girl. She birthed a caliban boy instead, and the father was sent to jail for his dealings in magic. That didn't prevent her from treating him as a girl. She named him Abbeygail and dressed him in girl's clothes and taught him how to act like a proper girl. His mother was not all there in the head. He was a pretty boy, so this all went on fine until he was about 4 years old. Some girl spotted his penis while they were in the bathroom and it spread from there. He was jumped in an alley one day and stripped down to find out if he was a boy or not. All the other kids soon learned he really was a boy. They all picked on him and called him names. Abbeygail would come home crying all the time, but nothing ever changed. He was too small to put up a fight so he was constantly beat up. This went on for several more years. Abbeygail tried to dress like a boy when he wasn't around his mother, but this didn't stop the teasing and beatings.
One day when Abbeygail was 7 years old, his mother caught him in the street wearing boy’s clothes. He had dried blood on his face from his nose and bruises on his cheeks and a swollen eye. This was the first time she had really paid attention to the marks he received from the other kids.
"What's this mess you've made of yourself? You march yourself back home young lady and clean you up! Wearing boy's clothes and dirty as mangy dog... I never..."
Abbeygail tried to protest that he wasn't a she, but to no avail. His mother put on a pot of water to boil and stripped him down to the waist. Once the water was roiling she said, "Just look at your face. I guess we'll start there." She then threw the boiling water on his face. Abbeygail could only scream and writhe in pain as his skin burned and bubbled. His mother didn't seem to care. "It serves you right for getting so dirty." The authorities arrived very soon after. They had already been on there way to arrest her for gutting the butcher earlier that day for not wrapping the meat thoroughly enough and letting blood seep out and onto her dress. They took her away but weren't sure what to do for him.
They tended his burns as best they could, but could really only give him a sedative to calm him enough to stop the screaming. He still looked pretty bad and didn't appear that he would live for very long. They had nowhere else to go, so they took him to the orphanage. The headmaster there took him in, out of pity or cruelty. That is unknown, for he took him in to use him for his own devices. Being a caliban, he planned on using Abbeygail’s body for an experiment, but that was not to be. As he lay in his bed panting out his last breaths, he wished for revenge on his mother and all who had mocked and teased him.
His eyes got heavy and closed and he thought he was leaving this world, but he awoke the next day, feeling better. His eyes had some how not been hurt, but his nose was now a large blob and his mouth was stretched tight exposing his teeth a bit. Each day he felt a little stronger and a little stronger still the next. Until he felt as strong as he once had been. His strength seemed to continue to grow however. Each day he got a little bit bigger and a little bit stronger.
He would now pick fights with anyone who tried to make fun of him. He chose a new name for himself, Dog, after the face he was left with. The orphanage master, Regallis, recognized this growing strength and soon put him to work. The other kids continued to pick on him until he broke another child’s arm with little effort. The name-calling stopped, at least to his face. As he grew older, he chose to wear gloves and cloaks and any other assortment of clothes to hide his disfigurements. He was unusually large for his age though.
The master would hire Dog out for odd jobs requiring great strength. Hauling carts and loading wagons were common tasks Dog undertook. The Regallis was paid well enough for these performed tasks, but greed took over. He ensured the Dog was feed well enough to do the labor and didn’t abuse him directly, but he chose to exploit him to the greatest extent. Regallis was no fighter, but he knew plenty of men who were. He had Dog trained, and then hired him out as a guard or even for light mercenary work.
All that changed when Dog was twenty-two. He had decided it was time to make it out on his own. Regallis had nothing left to offer him and the orphanage reminded him too much of his childhood. He knew he would need to find a place to stay and a steady job. He tracked down a merchant he had work for to inquire about a permanent position. When the issue of money came up, Dog realized how much Regallis had taken, with Dog seeing very little benefit for his hard work. This enraged him thoroughly. He ran back to the orphanage only to find that Regallis was gone. He sat and waited, and while he waited he found a sheet of parchment, and made a list, a list of names of all the people who had severely teased, tortured or mistreated him. At the top of the list was Regallis. He would pay for using Dog as just a tool for making money. At the bottom of the list was his mother. She would be the last marked off the list for causing this life of his, of misfortune.
Dog found steady work as a guard at the asylum. There he could keep track of his mother while looking for the other people on the list. The orphanage has a new master now, the previous one having broken his neck, and nearly every other bone in his body from a fall from the roof. He was found the next day in the alley behind the orphanage. There were no witnesses and he was not missed. Dog was questioned, but not charged with anything. He realized if he were to complete his list he would have to be much more careful. Remarkably, Dog felt much stronger and more alive after the death of Regallis.
Dog is now twenty-four. The past two years he has honed his skills and taken on many odd jobs while still working at the asylum. He’s used his employers to track down many of the people on the list. Most of the other children from his youth have merely been severely beaten, but a few have come up missing. It was amazing to Dog how few of the other children had left the city. After each name was crossed off, he felt a little stronger and a little bigger. He carried a trinket, or trophy from each of these encounters, to remind him of the torment he endured as a child.
There were only six names left: Satarno the orphanage cook that would occasionally poison Dog and the other children just to see what would happen (he quickly disappeared once if became obvious that Dog knew what was happening and was going to do something about it); Mateo and his sidekick brother Faltham who lead the gangs of street children; Ulmer the merchant who beat Dog mercilessly for allowing his shipment to be stolen, even though Dog single handedly killed two of the bandits while the rest ransacked the caravan; Heldabron, a girl who pretended to fall in love with Dog just to use him to beat up an old boyfriend; and lastly his mother Brameada. His mother being the only one he knew the exact location of, but she was to be last off the list.
Now Dog generally wears a cloak with a deep hood and gloves to hide his hands. He also wears a cloth wrapped around his head hiding all but his eyes. These things may hide his scars and hideous appearance, but they cannot hide his enormous size. At seven feet and over three hundred pounds, everyone knows who he is, and the rumors of what is under the cloth.
One day while on guard duty at the gates of the asylum, a woman of apparent noble birth, inquired of him about a person within. He didn’t know this person and didn’t much care either.
“What do you want in order to find this person for me?” she asked.
He thought for a moment, and said, “I find a person for you, and you find a person for me.”
“I will think on this,” she said, “but I must know first whom I am to seek for you.” “You’ve got some options at least.” He then gave her the first five names on the list with a brief description of each.
“Just so you know, I’ll go ahead and find your person, but you must bring me some way to find one of mine before I will tell you anything about them. And don’t bother asking any of the other guards for the same favor. They won’t tell you anything after I ‘talk’ with them about you, if they know what’s good for them.”