You Can Call Me Al

So, we are starting a D&D campaign this Saturday with our regular gaming group.  We just finished up a campaign where Jill ran us through a variety of supernatural maladies in a rather unique game system and now we are going to do a Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition campaign with James at the helm (I'm frightened).

So, I'm going to build a Gnome Warlock, a rather tall Gnome Warlock, with a bit of a surly attitude (chaotic neutral).  Here's his origin story.

Oh, before we go on, you might want to play the musical accompaniment in the background.

Annikko Ardabadkin is the given name of the 32 year old male Gnome Warlock who is traveling North on the road to Neverwinter from his village of Leirithymbul in the Sword Mountains.  This is an odd Gnome.  He’s dressed in what would be very plain robes for a Gnome, but that’s not the strange thing.  He’s tall for a Gnome.  In a dark room he could almost pass for a short Halfling.  But not even his height is the odd thing.  It’s his facial hair, or lack thereof.  Annikko, or Al as he insists to be called, is clean shaven except for a wildly bushy set of mutton chops to adorn his otherwise plain face.

Al was born into a rather prestigious family.  Supposidly, they are related to the hero of the village, the Gnome Ardabad.  Al didn’t care and would rather not be in the spotlight, but his family cared.  His parents had big plans for their son, Annikko.  He was to be the brightest Wizard this town ever knew, a true heir to the hero they are named after.

Al was extremely bright, but could care less about going to the Academy or becoming a Wizard.  He was ridiculed mercilessly as a child for being taller than his classmates.  Therefore Annikko didn’t have many friends and preferred to be alone.  He enjoyed tinkering and was adept as a silver smith.  During his exploration of the mines in and around his village, he befriended Palarandusk, the Gold Dragon who protected his people.  Palarandusk thought that Annikko was an odd chap and tried to encourage Al to make something more of his life.

One afternoon, while wondering in the Kryptgarden Forest, a place that Palarandusk definitely told Al to avoid because of the Green Dragon that lived there, Al ran into a little problem while collecting wood and reeds for a music box that he wanted to make.  Al got thoroughly entangled in a thicket of vines.  It was almost like a vegetative spider’s web and Al was the fly. 

‘Oh my, what have we here?’ Said the whimsical voice coming up from behind.  ‘Are you a small Halfling?  No, wait, you’re a Gnome!’ The voice continued with a guttural laugh.  Al flailed about and grumbled about the damn greenery and that no music box was worth this kind of trouble.  He barely acknowledged the presence of the other individual until he saw the hooves and the flowing brown hair.  At that point he just shut up and looked worried. 

‘I can help you little one’ said the Satyr ‘… but first I want to hear your story.’  Al proceeded to tell the Satyr his story in a way that only Al could.  He told a story of his life where he was ridiculed by his peers and lauded by his parents for the great things they expected from him.  He told of the simple life he wanted and of his only real friend, the Gold Dragon of the Sword Mountains.

‘Oh, so you’re a friend of Palarandusk?  He’s such a goody two shoes… and he does have a soft spot for you Gnomes.  Tell him that Hyrsam said ‘Hi’ the next time you see him.

So, I guess you’ll want me to get you out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but first let me ask you something.  You don’t seem content.  Would you consider working for me?  I think you have potential, and while I would never want you to be a silly Wizard like your family wanted, have you ever considered an alternative quest for knowledge as a Warlock, specifically as one of my Warlocks?’

Al couldn’t think of a better vocation, and while he wasn’t a strong advocate for the Fey, he knew that if he went down this road his parents would surely be aghast.  This guy seemed interesting enough and ‘what the hell’, at least he wasn’t going to be a damn Wizard.  So, Annikko Ardabadkin became a Warlock and acquired Hyrsam, The Satyr Prince of the Archfey, as his Patron.

He eventually made it back to his village, sporting a drab set of black robes, a little more unkempt, but still shaven (except for his unruly mutton chops).  He packed his things and said his goodbyes to his stunned parents and his one good friend.

‘Hyrsam is a trickster, but ultimately of good heart.’ Said Palarandusk  ‘You should do well in your new vocation.  I suggest you travel North to Neverwinter.  If you ever need advice, I will be there for you my friend.’

And with that, Al started his journey North.