Who was your most fun/favorite character?

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Forgive me if this topic is overdone here.  It's my first time posting on this particular forum (and only a handfull on the D&DNext forums).  Additionally, this isn't 4e specific, however the 4e area is the only one which included a character background specific forum.  I enjoy colorful personalities and sometimes it's easier to use someone else's as an npc than have to develope a backstory for a character that may only be used for one scene.  Let's create a thread where DM's can snag a few colorful characters!  What were some of your favorites then, and which are your favorites others have posted on this thread?  I'll start with my own:

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Isidro Segovia (The Pirate)  ///  Chaotic/Neutral  ///  Sentient Self/Ego


 


Isidro Segovia is a peculiar personality - to say the least.  Still a young half-elf, he has developed somewhat of a reputation as a loon.  Gaining his sea legs as a "recruit" on a ship of fools (the Blue Rook), he eventually took command and has since been surviving through piracy, though he primarily targets pirates - either dominating them, or using a cheap, sabotaged ship to draw the crew in while they sneak aboard and commandeer the unsuspecting pirate's vessel.  However, he has a curious problem - two of them, to be exact.


 


You see, as a child, Isidro was attacked by a creature of unknown origin with unknown capabilities that ravaged his mind (a mind flayer, perhaps?).  The tale is also unclear how he escaped with his life.  One thing is certain; he was never the same again.  As if his half-heritage wasn't enough, now his mind is split in three: himself, his conscience, and his baser needs.  These other parts of his mind developed personalities of their own and have a tenancy to act of their own accord without his (or each other's) knowledge.  To make things worse, the other two personalities have declared each other arch enemies, each vowing to destroy the other if ever they should meet and completely unaware that they are the same person.  Meanwhile, with the help of his father-figure first mate, Isidro has embraced his situation in order to dominate it - or at least maintain some sort of control.  He not only acts as a buffer between the two by dressing the part when he feels the change (if he's lucky enough to catch it), but has tailored a reversible costume: partially to look, feel, and nurture the part, but also to warn others of who exactly they are dealing with.


 


Tecolote Segovia (The Owl)  ///  Chaotic/Good  ///  Conscience/Superego


 


Tecolote Segovia (or The Owl) is the manifestation of Isidro's conscience, striving to do good and acting as a hero to society, a champion of the weak, and vanquisher of evil if ever it should cross his path.  He is not a fool and will not blindly intercede in a lost cause, but he will pray for the victim and mourn the state of affairs when the situation is hopeless.  He firmly believes he is a Privateer and wholeheartedly believes that the Letters of Marquis forged by Isidro are real.  Tecolote wears a white swashbuckler's outfit with the cape turned white-side out.  His mask is similar to those worn in a masquerade, covering only the eyes and the sides coming down the cheeks, each terminating in a sharp point by the jawbone, forming the familiar coloring of the eyes and face of the owl.


 


Marciego Segovia (The Bat)  ///  Chaotic/Evil  ///  Base Needs/Id


 


Marciego Segovia (or The Bat) is the manifestation of Isidro's baser needs: "I want," "I need," "I will have," "I will take."  If any of the personalities are true to Isidro's pirate life, it's Marciego.  The Bat considers himself a legend in the making and what is out there is free for the taking for whomever has the power to do so.  He is, by no means, a fool and knows his limitations and current capabilities.  But he also knows his potential and is always pushing himself further to tap into his strengths and abilities.  He has no intentions on making a name for himself until he has the clout to back it up.  He is sinister, clever, and evil.  He wears a black swashbuckler's outfit with the cloak black-side out.  The mask is inverted and upside down revealing black velvet and the cheek coverings pointing up which now resemble bat-ears.

An idea is only as good as the dice that back it up.

 

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Kalarn "Harper" Broodikus

"The truest heroes fight for what is right despite the consequences."

Harper was a Neutral Good Fighter roleplayed as a fallen paladin.  He lost his power due to defending a lich from the zeal of a much younger paladin who sought to murder him.  Harper progressed to be an interesting character in that he was quite powerful in combat, but was a pacifist.  His pacifism eventually led to uniting kobolds, goblins, and humans under his banner--and war.  
Several of my favorite characters are from 4.0. they iclude:

Shadaar - Dragonborn Barbarian|Sorcerer - i only got play her through heroic, but it was so much fun. rushing head first into most situations, Shadaar would go toe to toe until gravely injured. As this happened, she became primarily a distance sorcerer. She fell unconscience many times but somehow always got back up.

Alvyn - Gnome Illusionist Wizard - With this character, we managed to get a ways into heroic and it was truely memorable. Alvyn, named after the chipmunk, was mishievious and hilarous at the table. Later inhis career, he could turn the party invisable for a majority of the encunter once per day.  

IMAGE(http://www.nodiatis.com/pub/20.jpg)

Kalarn "Harper" Broodikus

"The truest heroes fight for what is right despite the consequences."

Harper was a Neutral Good Fighter roleplayed as a fallen paladin.  He lost his power due to defending a lich from the zeal of a much younger paladin who sought to murder him.  Harper progressed to be an interesting character in that he was quite powerful in combat, but was a pacifist.  His pacifism eventually led to uniting kobolds, goblins, and humans under his banner--and war.  



THIS is great role-play - learning to reskin.  I think it's important players understand they are not bound by the rules, but freed by them.

"I want to play a fallen paladin."
"Then create a fighter and color him as an ex-paladin."

An idea is only as good as the dice that back it up.

 

Thanks for making my 5e (Next) character sheet the most downloaded character sheet (any game or edition) on EnWorld!  If you haven't seen it, download, comment, and rate it.
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My favorite character was a halfling assassin, who doubled as his organization's chef.
Mechanically built as an executioner/warlock, charging on his fey beast mount with a lance.
Every ability and item he had was reflavored to something cooking-related: the lance was a giant shish kebab stick, his shurikens were salt & pepper shakers etc.
And ofcourse this was his avatar:
I made the mistake of giving him the swedish chef voice, which initially got my group to facepalm , but later they seemed to make it a point to get me to speak (it's hard to sustain that voice ).
Mine was my unaligned rogue, Lilith Thirío. She started as a little ball of rage and violence, as she had lost her parents at a young age and lived a good chunk of her teenage years imprisoned. She joined the party shortly after breaking out of jail as a way to make easy money. To put it simply: she was similar to Jack, from Mass Effect 2. But the gods of character development would not allow her to become a Belkar. To make it brief: In the end she ended up genuinely caring for her teammates, even befriending an avenger, adopting a rabbit, and at times preventing her teammates from going down the same road as her. Eventually she settled down with a nice elf wizard and bought a peach farm (read: the campaign ended, so I came up with something nobody would have expected).
Two of my favorites:

Yuri (Changeling Scout) - Yuri is not actually a Changeling, but a Malenti. Malenti are the deep cover spies of the Sahuagin, enchanted by Sahuagin priests to be able to change their shape. Yuri went native, coming to respect the sailors of the ships on which he served. Knowing that once his defection became known to his superiors, it was death to himself and all hands on his ship and every citizen in the port that ship called home, Yuri faked his death and fled inland. He misses the sea, but knows he can never go back.

Goliath (Pixie Brawling Fighter) - Goliath is the mightiest of the Pixies, standing almost six inches taller than every other Pixie in his village. His strength is legend, and he demonstrates it at every opportunity. Eventually, the rest of his village became so tired of his wrestling challenges that the elders had to intervene. The elders set upon him a number of tasks, the accomplishement of which would force them to declare once and for all that Goliath was truly the mightiest of Pixies. Seeing as to how these tasks were tests of Goliath's intellect and creativity, and not strength, the elders of the village are quite sure that they are rid of him forever. What Goliath wears can only be called "chainmail" in the loosest sense, being little more than a loincloth and muscle shirt. Thanks to the oils he rubs into his skin and some serious sun time, his skin is the color of bronze. He is a good natured sort, and tries to help people wherever he goes in his quest to fulfill his labours. He takes great joy in subduing (much) larger foes with only his bare hands.
Rage Splinterfoot - Chaotic Neutral to the core Halfling Barbarian
Before halfling barbarians of Eberron, I had this guy.  He was a loud mouth, babbling angry drunk who spouted his mind whenever he felt like it.  He caused trouble and sometimes brought it to its knees.  His interests including using clever tactics to get free beer, pretending to be a dwarf (in a horribly offensive/stereotypical manner), and heckling locals.  Visually, he's a typical halfling with a red dyed (blood) mohawk, clad in hodge-podge armor under a potato sack.  While he was an earlier creation, it was fun to bring him back during Encounters, where he continued to be bizarre as a crazy old man.  Needless to say, I retired him after that.  I'll probably use him as an NPC.

Sir Stephano Del Sol - Lawful Ham Aasimar Paladin of Lathander
This guy was made originally for Planescape, but became transplanted in the realms (where he was retconned as being a paladin of Lathander from Amn.)  He was comically idealistic and sought to bring out the best in all he surveyed.  When he wasn't helping around villages along the team's travels, he would spread the word about Lathander's light.  And while goofy, he was also quite the serious character too.  When forced to contend with a tribe of orcs, he spent much time talking diplomatically with them (after some clever disguising from the rogue and wizard, of course) and preventing war form breaking out.  Despite his good intentions, he fears dragons, as his villagers was battered by one in ages past.  As a result, he swore revenge against said dragon, only to slay others in morbid prejudice.  Despite this, he has justified his actions as protection of the innocent and civilization around it.  In a way, he was a little bit Sir Lancelot, a little Captain Jack Sparrow, and a little bit of that knight from Dragonheart (I used to be obsessed with that movie...  Yup.)  After adventuring with a group investigating some corruption in Waterdeep, he made his way south and founded a religious group dedicated to Lathander within Tethyr.  I might bring him back.

Captain Richard Colchester III - Lawful Evil Human Adept (Masque of the Red Death)
I didn't put too much thought into this guy.  He was a con man who exploited illusionary tactics to profit off of others.  Eventually, he took up necromancy as a means of getting some cash by staging heroics to "better protect those around him" ... for a slight fee.  While the Red Death tried to take him, he found a way to redeem himself somehow.  One time he was planning the biggest heist ever, it helped that the party was either neutral or evil as well.  The ritual we had planned (grabbing the attention of a binded monster to cause chaos) failed drastically.  Attempts to control it went worse...  and because the DM wanted to screw with us, it created a void that sucked us in.  Normally the deep ethereal can't be breached, but our failed experiment managed to do so!  All of us found ourselves within Toril, for some reason (Same group I used Stephano in, they loved the Realms!)  And so, our characters started a busines of manufacturing steam-based machinery and firearms before a war broke out with Lantan.  Sad the game came to a halt.  I would have loved to take over the island and watch as the steam-driven dystopia becomes the new Thay.  I might bring him up with the DM who wants to run an adventure set in a Bioshock-inspired version of Lantan.

An undead spectre occasionally returning to remind the fandom of its grim existence.

 

 

Some good pointers for the fellow hobbyist!:

  • KEEP D&D ALIVE, END EDITION WARS!
  • RESPECT PEOPLES' PREFERENCES
  • JUST ENJOY THE GAME!
Gonald Krunchrok is a Chaotic Good Dwarven Fighter. His parents died in a war, so he was risen by the warrior caste to which his family belonged. He grew up into a time of peace, putting his fighting skills to use as a famous gladiator renowned for his skill with the spear (I always thought that made more sense for a Dwarf's size than an axe.) On his first adventure, he was hired by a group of adventurers to help them scout a system of underground tombs. It went horribly wrong and a dragon bit his right arm off. Rather than give up, he had a wizard install the arm of a Warforged right into him. Unfortunately this meant the end of his Gladiator days, as the arm gave him an unfair advantage. So he began travelling the globe with a group of adventurers.

He ended up being quite the comic relief, he never dropped his grudge against dragons, and would go to any lengths to hunt one down (which led to an incident in which he covered himself, and his party, in dragon urine in an attempt to stealth by one (it didn't work)). He had an inferiority complex due to his loss of limb and was very self conscious about it ("Ya couldn't understand what it's like to be me. Imagine in the dead of night, when you're just looking to have a little fun, you reach down to touch your willy, and you're greeted not by a firm warm hand, but cold, hard, pinchy steel.")
I had a pair of dwarves that I used for comic relief.  I only statted them out in 2e, but they've had appearences in 3e, 3.5e, & 4e.  One was a hill dwarf and the other a mountain dwarf.  One of their gigs were that they were identical twins.  One answered to the name Dag and the other to Nabit.  Whenever a player said Dagnabit, they both would magically appear somehow.  Another thing of theirs is brewing a potion called Goblin Squeezins.  It is a kind of a wand of wonder type potion.  It could grow hair on a woman's chest.  It could even raise the dead.  On the other hand if taken by a living soul it could kill it (i.e. roll a one on an endurance check in 4e).  It always had some type of effect, even on plants.  In 4e I came up with Hobgoblin Squeezins and Bugbear Squeezins.  More powerful versions of Goblin Squeezins.  The Bugbear Squeezins could even affect a diety.  The effect is up to the DM.  There is no table.

The Squeezins are brewed by taking a fresh, live goblin (or other) and boiling it like a lobster.  Get rid of the carcus and add some unsavory spices (horseradish and skunk cabbage are rather prominent).  Then bottle the potion up.  One goblin can make 6 potion bottles.  One other thing of note.  It seemed that only these dwarves coud make this potion.  Anybody else that makes it fails miserably. 

You have the free will to agree or disagree.
You have the ability to act freely on the above choice regardless of the consequences.

Akoo, the Traveling Kobold (Unaligned NPC)

Akoo first appeared in a 3.5 game in the Realms. The party was on their way to investigate the lair of orc raiders when they happened across a small band of kobolds. Of course, the party massacared the group until the last kobold begged for mercy. The party listened, and found that the kobolds were being enslaved by these orcs for labor. The party argued for awhile as to leaving the kobold alive, but decided to use him to enter the stronghold of the orcs. 
On the journey he introduced himself as Akoo (from which my username comes) and the party took a definite liking to him. His squeeky voice and childish demeanor provided some excellent laughs.
After the adventure, the rest of the kobolds the party freed joined the party to sleep before the return trip to the city. The next morning, however, EVERYTHING was gone. The kobolds had taken all the treasure, all the equipment, and even the tents, and bailed.
Needless to say, the party swore vengeance on Akoo, their former friend.
In the following years of that game Akoo became the ringleader of an underground arena and a high level fighter/rogue

In later campaigns, Akoo has made appearances as a Shaman charlatan leading a kobold tribe, a wealthy merchant employing the PCs in a steampunk airship game, and as the grand mastermind of a thieves guild in another.

The kobold has made some cameo in virtually every campaign since the first one, and he still has not been slain by the characters. 
You are Red/Blue!
You are Red/Blue!
Hmmm got a couple....

Gorgek a kobold velciraptor rider (beast master ranger). The charater was captured and thrown into a dungeon with the rest of the party with the goal of escaping (pretty much naked mind you). The rest of the party was hesitant to include me untill the dragonborn fighter broke me out of my cage. I quickly proved my usefulness  as I was the only one with thievery and dungeonering skills.

I toadied up to the dragonborn basically calling him a living god. I got him into so much trouble with my mouth it was epic, sometimes litterally picking fights then hiding behind him like a spoiled child. The look on the clerics face when I summoned my mount for the firs time was pricless too.

Rach the copper wyrmling (reskinned pixie desert wind monk, in 3.5 was a copper wyrmling from the dragon mag). This hatchling dragon cares about two things treasure and strawberries. Either are easily able to motivate him to greatness in a heartbeat. Prone to extreme fits of fancy (like licking the holy symbol of the high priest of Torm to see how goodness tastes) he flits from one shiny thing to the next and is not afraid to bite anything in the butt.
The gm is letting me reroll him as a draconian when we feel enough time has passed for him to grow. The party rogue treats me kinda like her personal pokemon on top of it all.
One of my favorite PCs was a tiefling warlord named Tyr (short for Tyranny).  He started out pretty much living up to his name:  Heavy-handed, hard-headed, his way or no way.  Our adventurers eventually became a tight-knit group (and he softened).

Tyr eventually became an elite Solar in the service of the Union (governed by a deva emperor).  This earned him the right to be addressed as 'Sol Tyr'.  I thought that was pretty cool ;), he was a sorta 'knight of the realm'.

We played up to level 23, and wanted to keep going all the way to 30.  By then, we were all ready to start an Eberron campaign though.
/\ Art
Enoch the Deva Avenger/Cleric of Pelor was, and still is my favorite character. I started him at level 11. He appeared at a monastery of Pelor where he was taught to fight as a discipline, not for war, until his monastery was ransacked and he was captured. He escaped his Gnoll captors, and was led to a mysterious temple by Pelor. The temple had a magical room that trapped him inside with a vault. He asked for help, and Pelor instructed him to guard it and do nothing else. He killed different occupants of the temple as they ventured into the room by posing as a statue (He's stone grey). Pelor told him that the key bearer would come soon, and once the vault was opened, then he would join him. The party had a sun blade that opened the vault, and they helped him escape. They were captured by Drow to fulfill a prophecy as the Drow eliminated all of the will of the world, so they could take it over. The Drow put the heroes in charge of undoing what the Drow did. They had lots of fun stealing items from gods, but he's now an exarch of Pelor in the current epic campaign I'm in.
This one entered our game recently.  We were trapped in an underground facility where demons and devils waited to war with eachother and use our world as the battleground.  Somewhere along the line, I picked up a wife... a demonic succubus.  I didn't know much about her other than we could benefit greatly from eachother.  During our escape, I overheard one of the demons refer to her as an outcast, hunted.  This was all the information I had to come up with a background for her.  Here's what I came up with.

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Cool air wafted across the lake and rippled the grass tickling Alexis’ arms as she laid there, christening stars.  She was in love with the night, but the serenity of the wind and trees often broke with the memories of moments before.


Get your head out of the stars, Alexis!  Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.  You may not be the son your brother was, but if you’re going to be a woman, you are going to be the hardest working woman this village has ever known!


                My brother. 


                The night was ruined.  Serenity, wonder, and imagination were washed away by the bitterness of reality as the wind and water once washed away worries.  Sneaking out to bask in the night lost its excitement and the sour taste of guilt and anger filled her mouth.  Suddenly, the lake did not soothe and the air did not smell as sweet.  In fact, it smelled slightly rancid, like death.


Did an animal die here?  She certainly didn’t notice it earlier.  The smell was followed by a noise – many noises – screams and the creaking of wood.


It’s coming from the village! Alexis jolted and sprang to her feet right into—


 


***


 


Furfur jolted in her bed rising to her elbows and screamed, her breast rising and falling with heavy breathing and bringing a hand to her face to wipe the sweat and dream away.  She woke up sooner than usual and knew what would come next in the dream: she would spring up and be face to face with him.  He was the source of all her pain, all her suffering, everything she was since that night – since she stopped being Alexis and became Furfur.  She threw the sheets aside revealing her nakedness and swung her legs off the bed. Leathery, bony, bat-like wings creaked and fluttered as she sat-up.   Her elbows rested on knees, her sleepy gaze resting on a leather boot (too tired to even think where the match to it would be).  This was the torture of the Abyss: no peace.


 


The modest domicile was a rounded structure with extenuated and angular corners and extensions, much like a desert plant skinned with black adobe – it looked more grown or excreted into existence rather than built.  The front door was a yonic vertical slit with living beaded curtains.  The beads parted unaided and Furfur stepped into the violet dawn.  The lethargic trees created only a single, solid, black mass of wavering peaks against the purple hue of featureless sky.  Furfur yawned and stretched her arms into the sky.  With a sharp whoosh and fluttering flaps, her wings shot to full extent and displayed their full, intimidating, 13-foot spread, and then splayed to awkward angles as they stretched every fiber of muscle – and then stopped, frozen, still.  Her entire body was a statue in contorted position, except her nose and eyes.  She sniffed and glanced around.  Identifying the scent, her eyes narrowed and she slowly sunk.  Like a melting wax figure, her great display became a small mass hunched to the ground.  She growled.


The trees betrayed something moving among them, and though the mysterious being could not be seen in the black outline of the trees, the sounds of braking branches giving way to the sound of footsteps in tall grass was all Furfur needed to determine the creature’s proximity – it was out of the tree-line and only within a few yards.  With a snarl, she leapt – outlined in the violet sky as a great bat, Furfur wrapped the inside of her elbow around the front of the creature’s neck, used the thing’s weight as a pivot and swung herself behind it as they both tumbled across the ground.  She kept her arm around its neck and brought her other hand, claws flashing in the dark, to the enemy’s chin, and wrapped her legs around it to keep it from squirming.


The dark figure rumbled as he spoke, “We’ve come for you, outcast.  Your time is up and you’re surrounded.”


“Quit fooling around Diri.  I’m not in the mood.”


 “Dir—,” the figure chuckled, “You think I’m Diri?” A guttural laugh broke from the great, muscular figure.


Furfur let go of the figure, “I can smell the Dwarven spirits you’re so fond of.”


The figure’s laugh stopped, “Hey.  Anyone can drink Dwarven spirits.” The voice lightened as the figure shrunk to a smaller, stouter, and fatter figure, “What if I was Hafaza?”


Furfur stood, “You’re right, anyone can drink Dwarven spirits,” she swayed back to her house with a finger wavering as though noting something in the air, “but Havaza prefers Elven wine.”


“Furfur,” Diri spoke condescendingly as he stood and brushed dirt from his clothing, “you’re witty and clever, but that’s not going to save you from the council.  They are after you, and soon, they’ll find you.  I have no idea what you did to your husband, Lahash, but they’ll --”


An echoing, guttural snarl came from Furfur as she turned back to Diri, “Don’t speak his name in my presence!”


Diri put his hands in up apologetically, “I’m sorry, but whatever you did to him, they’ll find out.”


Furfur turned back around to her home and walked, “They won’t find him.”


Searching to attract her attention, Diri followed, “You mentioned Sigil, but Furfur, there are ways back, especially from Sigil and especially for a demon.  Tieflings will have no qualms helping a full demon through a gate here for a favor, it’s only a matter of time before—“


“Like I said,” Furfur interrupted as she paused at her beaded curtain which parted at her arrival, “No need to worry.  Sigil was the tool, not the destination.  Even if he does return, I’ll be long gone.”  She stepped through the door.”


Diri gave chase, “But Furfur, Lah—“ the curtain closed before he could cross, “He isn’t your only worry.”  Concerned the curtain may be muffling his voice, he began to shout, “in fact, he’s likely the least of your worries!  The council will come for you; or worse, they’ll discover your Sigil ploy and go looking for him!  He may not have a tiefling to help him get back, but they will have plenty of sniveling, willing tieflings to help find him!  You don’t have much ti—“


The beaded curtain swung open, not of their own accord, but through the fierce, clawing, jar of Furfur’s swipe.


Diri cleared his throat, “Time.”


Furfur came just short of nose-to-nose to Diri, “Go away.”


Another rustling came from the woods – many noises.  Furfur and Diri quickly turned to the direction and sniffed the air.  Diri gasped and swallowed as he squealed the words, “The Council!”


Lit by the fire in his eyes, and the flame in the hands of his many cohorts, Hafaza and several other large demons stepped through the tree line.  Hafaza did, in fact, smell of Elven wine.


In unison, Furfur and Diri advised each other, “Run!”

An idea is only as good as the dice that back it up.

 

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