How The Veteran DM Taught Me The Importance Of Having A Great Backstory
Our DM, Jim was a veteran first edition player and DM.
The version we would be playing is a mish mash of second edition & third edition rules,
and we were allowed to play third edition races.
Jim was a bit of a homebrewer, and Roleplaying our PC's in his world often granted us the
rule of cool, within reason.
Now I am not too sure about all the rules or exactly how to make a character, this being
my first time playing.
With Jim’s guidance I rolled my stats, picked my race, and class which resulted in a petite
male tiefling fighter with no back story.
To flesh out my character and give him an identity, Jim asked me a series of questions
to determine my backstory, and these were the answers that I gave him.
“My name is Tugrin, I don’t like to be touched, and the gods have done nothing for
me.
They simply bring misery and pain to all they touch.”
Jim has a sly look in his eyes as he already has cooked up a truly terrifying backstory
for my character that would endear me to D&D forever.
The PC's of our party were Breantha, a female dragonborn cleric, a follower
of Aphrodite, the Goddess of Passion.
Silverstep, a male halfling rogue.
Thonk, a male gnome barbarian, and Gilwhip, a male dragonborn wizard.
Breantha and Gilwhip were brother & sister.
The PC's were all level 5 while I would be starting at level 3.
I didn't really know how to play, so Jim told me to simply roleplay, and that he would let
me know what dice to roll and what to add.
Jim explained the basics of my backstory.
I had been a slave to a cultist group that worshiped the evil deity, Orcus.
And they were hell bent on bringing their god to the mortal plane.
Tugrin really didn’t remember his life before the cult, except for one fragmented memory.
He remembered a soft spoken woman’s voice telling him that everything would be alright.
His mother’s voice.
But everything after that was pain and misery.
The cult had been grooming Tugrin to become the vessel for Orcus.
They forced him to become a pit fighter made to fight to the death.
They beat him, tortured him, and all of the horrors you can imagine to ensure that Tugrin
would be strong enough to survive the summoning ritual.
These were the reasons Tugrin didn't like to be touched.
On the night of the ritual, Tugrin was beaten to a bloody mess, left chained to the altar
stone.
Cultists formed a circle around him, chanting and casting the summoning spell.
Blood ran out of Tugrin’s ears, and the chanting faded to a dull murmur.
He slipped in and out of consciousness.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but when he opened his eyes a young female
dragonborn stood before him.
Warmth spread through Tugrin’s broken body, but the shock of healing was too much, and
he passed out again.
Breantha used cure light wounds and carried the unconscious Tugrin to the nearby town,
while the rest of the party searched the ritual site for the quest item "The Command Stone",
which could be used on anything with a physical body.
The affected person or monster had to follow the commands of the wielder.
Cut to Tugrin waking up in a comfortable bed in a strange place.
Confused and scared, he rummaged through the backpacks left in the room while the party
was in the next room, debating whether or not they should torture the information out
of him about the command stone.
Tugrin found the spare gear the party had been keeping to sell later.
Frustrated with the direction the conversation was headed, Gilwhip decided he should check
on the status of their captive.
Much to Gilwhip’s surprise, he found a dressed Tugrin bent over Gilwhip’s backpack.
He attempted to grapple Tugrin.
Jim leans in and tells me, “You’re grappled from behind.
What do you want to do?”
I act out pulling the dragonborn’s arm in front of my face, and mimic biting him.
“Great, roll attack.
It’s the d20.
The round one with a bunch of sides.”
I picked up the dice and rolled.
“It's 20.
Is that good?”
Jim and Gilwhip’s players’ jaws drop with the rest of the players.
Jim recovered first and told me it's a critical hit, and as Tugrins sharp teeth bite into
scaly skin, he nicks a vein, spraying him with blood.
“Roll damage,” Jim said, barely hiding his smirk.
Oops.
Twelve damage.
Gilwhip slumped to the floor and started throwing death saves.
The thump of his body hitting the floor alerted the rest of the party, and they came rushing
in.
The scene has the cleric ready to smite Tugrin to dust, but lucky for him, Silverstep interrupted.
"What did Gil do this time?"
"He grabbed me from behind just like the cultists used to do.
I won't let anyone do that to me again."
Tugrin said coldly.
Thonk pushed Breantha over to Gilwhip’s side.
"Heal your brother.
He should know better than to attack someone who just woke up."
They questioned Tugrin about the Command Stone, but Tugrin knew nothing of the magic item.
Most of the party was satisfied with his answer, and few rolls later, Silverstep with Thonk’s
help persuaded Tugrin to join the party.
But trust is hard to earn, and not everyone embraced Tugrin into the party with open arms.
And one party member in particular was suspicious of the new recruit, and began sowing dissent.
Breantha wasn’t so sure that the summoning ritual had been interrupted, and maybe, Orcus
was hiding inside Tugrin, waiting for his opportunity to strike.
Fast forward a few sessions.
A series of side adventures and information gathering for the command stone led them to
the city of Evinmoore.
Evinmoore was the city of outcasts.
The city consisted of mostly half-elves and mixed breed races, but even here Tugrin was
met with suspicion and disdain.
This was due to the sheer fact that tieflings were rare and seen as a bad omen.
Evinmoore had a twisting sewer system that connected with the dry catacombs where the
city entombed their dead.
The party followed the lead right into an ambush shortly after entering the catacombs.
Tugrin was trapped beneath a weighted net with two cultists dragging him away as three
other cultists kept the party at bay.
A cultist leaned over Tugrin.
"Do not worry, Orcus, soon you will be out of the influence of that cleric’s binding
spell."
The cultist’s voice edged on hysteria.
"Yes, Lord, we have a full crypt for you to raise to deal with her and the rest of the
interlopers."
Tugrin masked his confusion, stopped struggling against his bindings, and went with it.
"How did you find me?"
Tugrin demanded.
"We know that the ritual worked but while you were in a weakened state, the body you
possessed was bound to the will of the dragonborn cleric."
The cultist said, fully gripped by this delusion.
That is when all the pieces fell into place for me as a player and my character.
Breantha had never trusted Tugrin.
From the moment he bit her brother, she suspected that there was something more to the slave
they had rescued.
Because of her suspicion she never healed him, and quite frankly treated him rather
poorly.
But after a few weeks Breantha warmed up to Tugrin a little.
She gifted him a box of healing potions as an apology.
The cultists believed that the summoning had worked, and their deity Orcus was now trapped
inside of Tugrin by the Breantha.
So, unfortunately for Tugrin, everyone thought Orcus was inside of his body.
And if that was the case…
A plan formed in his mind.
"Release me.
The further away I am, the stronger I will become."
Oddly enough, Jim didn't have me even roll as the cultist obeyed.
Tugrin turned to face the party and then pointed his sword at Breantha.
"Kill her," Tugrin ordered without a shred of remorse in his voice.
The party had downed two of the three cultists that had ambushed them, but the two that were
carrying Tugrin now joined the fray, satisfied that Tugrin, Orcus was on their side.
Before Tugrin left to search for the head cultist lurking somewhere in the catacombs,
he removed the case of healing potions which Breantha had given him as an apology for never
healing him.
He set the case down where the party could find it easily and stalked deeper into the
catacombs.
Notes were passed back and forth between Jim and myself.
The party was not having an easy time with the cultist focused on killing the cleric.
By the time they had gotten done, Tugrin had come face to face with the head cultist.
Meanwhile, Silverstep found the healing potions as Breantha was avidly cursing Tugrin and
telling Thonk they shouldn't even bother to save him.
“I told you that we couldn’t trust him!”
Silverstep rounded on her.
"How easy it is for you to forget the many blades he stood in front of protecting you
or Gil."
Silverstep fumed.
The halfling shoved the box of healing potions into her hands with a glare.
Thonk may have not been smart but he always sided with his best friend, Silverstep.
Even Gilwhip stepped away from his sister and joined the rest of party members to find
Tugrin.
Now I want to point out this is a heavy role playgroup and this was the first time Breantha's
player had ever NOT gotten her way.
She was stunned speechless as she began to understand the gravity of Tugrin leaving the
box of potions behind.
Tugrin was willing to die by giving up the potions to spare her spell slots.
Tugrin was buying time, willing to sacrifice himself yet again to give the party a better
chance.
With that out of the way, the party gave chase as dice started to roll between myself and
Jim.
The sense of urgency grew in the party as notes passed between Jim and myself increased
with the dice rolls.
Finally after clearing two rooms of cultists, the party barged into the main Crypt with
seven dead cultists laying around the altar with the head cultist who was held firm by
his robes.
And Tugrin’s sword pressed to his chest, ready to kill him.
Having played out being possessed by Orcus and having the cult willingly give up their
lives to become undead minions had worked, but now Tugrin was done with the deceit and
revealed the truth.
The ritual had failed.
Orcus had never crossed between the planes.
Tugrin, was Tugrin, and always had been.
“I have waited years, dreamed of this very day for countless hours.
You took everything from me!”
A female voice spoke up from the shadows behind Tugrin.
He tries to force the blade into the cultists chest, but he is unable to move as a magical
force takes hold.
“STOP!
I can't allow you to kill your father just yet.
I need him to complete the ritual for Orcus.”
The woman emerged from the shadows behind Tugrin, a smug smile on her lips with the
Command Stone dangling from a golden chain around her neck.
It pulsed with a dark red energy.
Tears streaked down Tugrin’s face as the party sprang into action; they almost got
within striking distance before they all failed their saving throws against the stone’s
influence.
"You hear a voice from your past, from one of your most sacred memories.
It’s unmistakable."
Jim’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
The words rang in Tugrin’s mind just as they had that night so many years ago, “Everything
will be alright.”
“Mother?
Why?
How could you do this to me?“
“It’s what I created you for.
Now then.
Kill the one that betrayed you.”
Her pale finger stabbed toward Breantha.
All eyes turned to Breantha’s player as I failed the save to resist the command.
Jim slid me a note, detailing the magical effect of the stone.
Which read, and I quote, “The person under the effect of a command can not resist the
command if they fail the save.
But the command is up for interpretation of the individual.”
This was Jim’s way of letting Tugrin decide who had betrayed him.
Tugrin released his father’s robe and pointed his sword at Breantha as he began to monologue.
“I trusted you, I hoped we could mend the bridges burned between us, but then you betrayed
me and used me for your own selfish passion and search for glory and power.”
“Don't do it,” the Gnome begged “No blame me, I should have done more,”
the halfling pleaded.
“Forgive my sister.
Please,” Gilwhip’s voice cracked.
He would have fallen to his knees if it wasn’t for the power of the command stone.
Tugrin’s mother laughed smugly, stepping behind Tugrin.
She leaned forward to whisper into his ear.
“See, my son, they were never your friends or companions.
They betrayed your trust as well.
Keeping secrets, tsk tsk.
It doesn’t matter which one you pick.
I will kill the rest of them for the ritual.”
My heart thundered in my chest as the party thought they were about to die.
But then Tugrin’s mother placed her hands on Tugrin’s shoulders.
He recoiled at her touch.
What should have been a loving, tender, motherly embrace was like fire against Tugrin’s flesh.
He spun and drove the sword into her stomach.
“Your betrayal was the greatest of them all.
They had every right to not trust me.
Not after everything I’d been through because of you!”
Spittle flew from Tugrin’s lips as he screamed into the face of the creature that had caused
him so much pain and suffering.
Everyone was stunned -- well, except for Jim.
The power holding the party wavered and died as Tugrin’s mother fell lifelessly to the
floor.
The Command stone was given to Tugrin for safekeeping as the party felt he would be
the least likely to use its power.
Breantha finally started healing Tugrin whenever his health dropped really low.
Silverstep started being more honest or at least as honest as a thief can get.
Thonk started sharing his ideas which always led to some of the most hilarious and horrible
moments.
Over the next 5 years the party members would die out and new ones would join till it was
just Turgin and Gilwhip.
Jim was such a wonderful DM and storyteller that even to this day, he inspires me as I
am now DM for my own group as every member of the party experienced their own special
PC moments.
A great character background can make for incredible moments.
That’s why I make backgrounds mandatory for all of my players.
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