Roleplay Stories

norny

If you're going to roleplay, you need a good background story! Post yours!

 

 

Here's mine, I hope it's not too long. :P

 

(Pro) Prologue

Hoelbrak. Season of the Zephyr, day 14.

           

            In one of the rooms in Hoelbrak, screams filled the air as a small Norn was born. He was named Aron Stonehelm, and his parents knew from birth that he was to be watched over by the spirit of the bear.

 

Prologue

A snowy forest. Season of the Pheonix, day 26,  1267.

 

As Katrin lead the way, Stephanie and Roan slowly paced behind her, leaving deep footprints in the fresh blanket of snow.

“We’re getting close,” growled Roan as he hunched over, spotting a broken branch under a layer of snow. “They were here not two hours ago.”

“What tells you that? It’s a broken stick! We’re in a forest! There’s sticks everywhere!” moaned Stephanie.

“Quit getting hysterical, human.”

“Roan’s right, Stephanie. We need to keep moving, and he knows how to track,” said Katrin.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Shut up the damn baby, someone might find us,” said Roan with a scowl.

Katrin lifted the baby from the leather pouch on her back, comforting him. They kept moving. Not an hour later, the unexpected happened. As Katrin walked through a clearing, all hell broke loose. Bandits hopped from the trees, and before any of them knew what was happening, Katrin had a sword through her stomach, and Roan and Stephanie were facing down what seemed to be a small army.

            They fought, and they fought hard. When the skirmish was over, the white snow ran red with blood, and in the middle of it was Katrin. They approached her, hoping for last words, or a miracle. She was already dead.

            Then they heard a small noise, and suddenly remembered Aron. Stephanie pulled the small baby out of the leather carrier, comforting him. He was only 1 season old. “Ok, let’s get it over with, and kill it,” grumbled Roan. Shocked, Stephanie stepped back. Saying nothing, she turned and left, along with the baby. When she returned an hour later without the baby, she said nothing. Roan asked no questions, and just assumed what she had done. He had already buried Katrin, and that was that. They kept moving.

 

Chapter 1

The home of David and Julia Kendall, the same day.

 

            As Julia returned home from the market, she spotted a small bundle sitting in front of their small cottage. They were several miles away from the rest of the town, so she wondered who went out of their way to bring them something. She walked over to the bundle, and immediately dropped her bags of food. “Holy shit! David!” David ran from the back yard where he was working, fearing something terrible had happened. Strangely, he found his wife staring at a fat little baby, laying there, wrapped up in blankets. And so, they took him in, named him William, and raised him.

 

Chapter 2

1275.

 

            I always seemed like a normal kid, to the others.. I ran, played, and had fun with the other kids. When I was about 8 years old, people started to notice some things about me that were… Different. For one, I was over a foot taller than the other kids. Secondly, I could lift twice as much as his father, and pain barely phased me. I remember one day, after jumping off a four story building on a dare and snapping my arm in half, how I walked into the house, politely asking if we could go to the doctor. This continued until 1282, when I was 12. That year, after I passed the 7 foot mark, they realized I wasn’t normal. My parents consulted an adventurer, who said he had met men and women like me in the mountains. They called themselves the Norn. Most people had heard of them people, but few had actually met one. Soon the word got out, and then things started changing. I lost my friends, and my family lost theirs. People refused to trade with us, and I was kicked out of school. They endured this for years, but all things come to an end at some point, whether by good means, or bad.

 

Chapter 3

1284.

 

            I now stood at 9’2”, 400 pounds. If they had doubts about me being Norn then, they were gone now. As I slept in his bed (which was really a bale of hay, as actual beds were too small), people approached. They wanted “that monster,” as they called me, gone for good. And there was only one way to do that. The crowd approached, with the stereotypical mob weapons of pitchforks and torches. I guess that’s what you get when you live in a farmer’s town. I awoke to their screams of insults and slurs. “Dirty animal man, go back to the mountains!” I could see them outside of my house. They were going to burn my home to the ground, and they didn’t care who would be hurt. At that moment, I wasn’t worried about myself. My parents’ lives were at stake. They were surely awake by now, as the screams and jeers filled every second of would-be silence with hate. I pulled on my custom-tailored pants, which would go up to a normal man’s shoulders. Wearing nothing but those, I angrily trudged down the stairs. Not even bothering to unlock the door, I smashed it open, cleanly snapping the steel chain and bolt. The yells got quieter as they saw me. I imagine I looked even scarier then I usually do, standing there in the dark, lit from below by all the torches. That alone scared some of ‘em off, but it wasn’t enough for all of them. One jumped at me, swinging a shovel. I thrust my arm up quickly, hitting the wooden shaft of the shovel so hard that it snapped in half. He scurried off, but not until I kicked him in the ass. It got much worse after that. All I remember is fighting off a huge gang of men, in a blur of rage. When it was all over, I stood over several twisted bodies, with blood on my arms and chest. My right arm had been torn open from the shoulder to the elbow, but I knew that wasn’t enough to supply all that blood. I counted up the dead bodies, coming to a total of 6, and several more unconscious. I knew I had to go. Whatever they had in store for my parents tonight, they would have something worse if I didn’t leave. I returned to my room, packing up all my belongings into my large leather knapsack. Then, I ventured into town, towards the library. Inside, I found exactly what I had been looking for. A book on the Norn, and a map of Tyria. Using that and my compass, I set out for a new life.

 

Chapter 4

1285.

 

            I finally made it. Almost a year of travel, but I succeeded. As I walked into Hoelbrak, I received none of the strange stares I was accustomed to. I was normal, for once in my life. I was still poor, and an outsider, but I was normal.

            I got a room, and slept for the night. The next day, I found my way to a tailor, surprised to find clothes that actually fit. I was outfitted nicely with the few coins I had, then I had just enough for a good meal and mug of beer at the pub. It was the happiest I had been in almost a decade, but I missed my parents. I started talking to the man on the stool next to me, my first real interaction in over a year. On my trip from my small hometown in Kryta, I met a few travelers, and a lot of monsters. I kept to myself though, never straying from the path I had set for myself. As I told him my story, he grew curious. He began talking about a Norn woman who set out on a quest to the Tarnished Coast with her 4 month-old baby, and she never returned. She had last been seen in a snowy forest in the mountains, opposite of Hoelbrak. He called over a man named Knut, and the three of us began to talk. Apparently this woman, whose name was Katrin, had been married to a hunter named Kristoffer. More and more intrigued, I left to go find him. After trekking for a few miles through the snow, I came upon a small (for a Norn) cabin, that supposedly belonged to him. I banged on the door, and a grisly old man with a long beard and giant biceps opened it. He stared at me for a few seconds, then drunkenly inquired “what the hell do you want?” He stank like liquor from three feet away. I fumbled my words for a few seconds, then bluntly said “I think you’re my dad.” He stood there, still staring. Then, he awkwardly muttered “um… Come in?” He turned around, took two steps into the house, then tripped over his own feet. I helped him up, and dragged him over to the couch, where he slept for the next ten hours. While he snored like a bear, I sat there, thinking. Could this be my dad? What was he like? What happened to my mom? Would my life finally be normal? Eventually he woke up, complaining about his terrible hangover. He tried to convince me that more booze would cure it, but I kept him away from it. “I need a straight answer,” I said crossly. “About what? Who are you again?” He rubbed his forehead in pain. “Are you my father?” “I don’t know, let’s see,” he calmly said as he sat down on the floor, legs crossed. Curious of what he was doing, I sat down in the same fashion. Hands on his knees, he closed his eyes and breathed steadily. I did the same. He began to speak some incomprehensive words under his breath. Suddenly, what I saw was no longer the backs of my eyelids. It was a snowy mountaintop. I could see the great spirits of the north, and I could hear them talking to me, teaching me of my ancestors. I saw myself as a baby, then with my mother. I saw her death, and a human woman leaving me on the doorstep of my childhood home. I felt weightless, as if I was flying through the clouds with the spirits themselves. It was amazing. I seemed to absorb all the knowledge I would ever need to know as a Norn, in that time. It felt like hours, but was probably less than a minute. My eyes snapped open, and I was sitting back in the wood cabin. Standing right in front of me was my father, sipping a bottle of whiskey, looking at me. I stood up, staring directly into his eyes. I smiled, shook his hand, and without a second word, I left.

 

Epilogue

1325.

 

I saw my father a few times over the next few years, but it wasn’t important. He was no different than any other Norn in Hoelbrak. I had no connection to him, my true father was and always would be David Kendall. I generally managed to fit in with the other Norn, and my life was good. I have returned to human cities, but never my childhood town. Although I miss my “parents,” I know I cannot go back. Over the years, I’ve traveled and quested, and even started a family. However, deep down, I miss the family I had, all those years ago.

 

 

tl;dr: norn raised by humans, killed some humans, left for hoelbrak.

Dream_Chaser

(We're doing this again? Okay! Copy & paste time.)

I've done this a few times recently, but hey, whatevs!

This is an all charr parade, and it's how I plan on rolling until I branch out into the other races, but I've fallen for the charr so much that my first number of characters simply have to be charr. They're amazing.

---

• 
  Name: Sarizar
• 
  Warband: Gear
• 
  Suffix: Grinder

• 
  Gender: Male
• 
  Legion: Iron
• 
  Profession: Engineer

• 
  Background: Sarizar acquired his 'grinder' suffix by weaponising a meat grinder. Why? It was just a 'because I can' scenario, which is the motto of many an engineer, far and wide. Kajira, someone familial to Sarizar in his fahrar days, keenly observed how handy he was with tinkering and was the first to try out his weaponised grinder.
  
  
  
  Entering into adulthood, Sarizar has become very much the thinker and philosopher. He's quite enjoyed playing his part as to the new path the charr have forged for themselves, one of true independence with no gods and no masters. Sarizar strongly values progression, of both technology and philosophy, and is more than willing to lend an ear or four when others are talking.
  
  
  
  Ultimately, Sarizar believes that true progression can only reach its ultimate potential once the five races have accepted each other as equals, having overcome the petty biological need to become the dominant chain of life (an issue that Sarizar has observed in all forms of life, including the charr). Sometimes, however, Sarizar can forget the little people who've become entangled in the big picture.
  
  
  
  He can often be found seemingly wandering without purpose or propped up on a wall, mumbling to himself, and mulling over possible designs, and outside of battle, he's only rarely distracted from that past-time by an impressive piece of engineering, or a particularly intriguing point of view shared.
  
  
  
  Sarizar believes that the beauty of deisgn is in its efficiency and functionality, two components that he believes should be more important than any other to any engineer worth their salt. And to that end he's always improving his own designs, but only in ways that would boost their efficiency and functionality, anything that proves to impede these elements is cast aside until it can be reworked to perform better.

• 
  Quote: "The way of any charr should be to forge their own path. We are builders and creators, we forge the world around us, we take control and we steer it the way we want to go. A charr has no master other than the chain of command in which all charr have a place. And therein all charr are bound together. The greatest merit of any charr shall always be their loyalty and devotion to kin and legion."

---

• 
  Name: Sinera
• 
  Warband: Mind
• 
  Suffix: Shaper

• 
  Gender: Female
• 
  Legion: Ash
• 
  Profession: Mesmer

• 
  Background: Sinera's suffix came from literally rebuilding the mind of a charr whom had witnessed so much horror in the brand that his mind had simply shattered. Sinera encountered the old veteran at an Ash Legion infirmary, the only one of his warband to survive.
  
  
  
  She felt a sense of unavoidable empathy in seeing such a noble old warrior left in such a state and couldn't help herself. It was an effort that took no small amount of time, but she picked up every piece of his psyche that wasn't lost or damaged beyond repair and reassembled them. Restoring memories and sanity to the old warrior, who went by the name of Rakmarr.
  
  
  
  She's somewhat leery and distrustful view of the other Mesmers she's encountered and sees their uninhibited use of power as irresponsible, for it was such that lead to the rise and downfall of the Flame Legion. Beyond this, she has a mild distrust for magic as she's heard tales of its source, and she knows that it's not truly hers to own and control. As such, its reliability cannot be counted upon.
  
  
  
  Of all things, Sinera would desire most to unchain magic from the gods, to make hers her own, and more - to redefine what a Mesmer can be. She feels that all too often the Mesmer revels on the field of combat, without hesitation or regret, and this in turn can twist the Mesmer's mind beyond recognition. A fate she does not care to fall prey to herself.

• 
  Quote: "Magic is an untamed beast, it roams around at the back of your mind, always looking for a way in, trying to coax and tempt you to let go. I've seen those who've used magic without discipline, those who are corrupt and hungered for power and blood, and ultimately how petty they are. Magic will ultimately consume you if you let it, and with every action you take with magic, you must ensure that that action is your own. And with every action you take with magic, you must know whom it benefits and why before the fact."

---

• 
  Name: Kajira
• 
  Warband: Shadow
• 
  Suffix: Storm

• 
  Gender: Female
• 
  Legion: Blood
• 
  Profession: Thief

• 
  Background: Kajira desires to know what the upper end of her physical limits are and what a charr is truly capable of. She fetishises the body to an almost worrying degree and considers it her shrine. As such, Kajira is always on the move and never staying in one place for any amount of time, often being impatient when people keep her around by talking as they don't talk fast enough.
  
  
  
  If the world of Tyria knew what caffeine was, then one might assume that Kajira exposes herself to a sizeable dose of it every morning, with enough energy as to see her bouncing off the walls should she so desire. And as such she can often be found engaging in a little parkour in any downtime she has. If you happen to see something leaping from roof to roof above you, it's likely Kajira.
  
  
  
  Kajira is always willing to learn new techniques, of combat and movement especially, and is almost solely interested in being the fastest thing in Tyria. If any form of technology can help her do that without holding her back in some way, she'd use it. Kajira feels most alive when she's testing the very limits of what her body is capable of, and can be a liability by doing so. A risk-taker and thrill-seeker.
  
  
  
  Unlike other thieves, Kajira only relies upon stealth when it's absolutely necessary to do so. Kajira would rather use raw speed and agility for almost every scenario she could, and in combat she moves fast enough to be a barely visible storm of strikes, hence her suffix. Through her own tactics Kajira can hold her own against even the strongest warriors of the Blood Legion.

• 
  Quote: "Thinkfast. Notfastenough. Gotyerbelt!"

---

• 
  Name: Rakmarr
• 
  Warband: Thunder
• 
  Suffix: Butt

• 
  Gender: Male
• 
  Legion: Blood
• 
  Profession: Warrior

• 
  Background: Rakmarr isn't the sharpest needle, brightest bulb, or whatever analogy you prefer. He's just your every day, typical grunt. Or that's what he'd have you believe, anyway. But Rakmarr tends to be a bit peculiar, eccentric, and occasionally even silly. Some have claimed that his behaviour is a side-effect of having his mind rebuilt, but those who've knew him before that terrible event would inform you that that's simply not true. Rakmarr has always been a nutbar.
  
  
  
  This makes Rakmarr very unpredictable on the field, he's a bit of a loose cannon, but more than that, he's incredibly random and can often put to use the most bizarre tactics. Tactics which will more often than not work. It's worth mentioning at this point that Rakmarr suffers fairly badly with gas, as one particularly infamous strategem of his actually put this to good use against a platoon of golem-piloting asura.
  
  
  
  If asked about this, Rakmarr would simply grin and shrug, and point out that it's fortunate that the asura tend to almost invariably be massive prudes. Rakmarr thinks it's all about knowing the psychology of your opponents and using their own flaws against them, no matter the lengths you have to do to do so.
  
  
  
  Under it all, however, Rakmarr is ultimately troubled by what happened to him on the brand - an event that he's unable to remember as his mind destroyed all the memories of that fateful event, one that robbed him of his warband and saw him having to fight his way back from gladium to earn his place amongst the charr again. Though he values the friendship of three comrades whom he has leaned upon at times of weakness, and one of whom had even saved his very self from a fate worse than death.

• 
  Quote: "I hit things. Sometimes they fall over. Sometimes I fall over. Sometimes I break wind. Then they fall over."

---

 

Two serious characters and two comedic characters rounds out my group nicely.