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theinsaneeraser · 6 years

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Kitsune (Trickster)

This is my new 5e, Ebberon DnD character. He is a shifter Rogue. His animal is a fox! This is his backstory, which is probably longer than it should be but oops.

Kitsune was born admits the magic-scared sands, in a tent decorated with gold baubles, silks and cushions. He was a healthy baby, and his father praised his birth, as it was a sign of good things to come. He had many brother's and sister's of many ages, though they only had their father to bind them by blood. A quarter of his sibling's would not make it to adulthood, the age of ten for those of shifter blood, survival of the fittest was the law of the desert, those two weak to carry on would be left behind.

There was no mourning of the weak, only praising of the strong.

His parents were mixed of longtooth and swiftstride. His father was the leader of a pack, and a sultan of many wives. He was considered a strong leader, and he and his sultana were adorned in many color's, and trinkets. Kitsune looked up to his father, and came into his beast fairly early in life; that of a fox. Some say the beast is formed from personality, others that the personality is formed from the beast. Which ever came first, it was apparent that he'd been gifted the correct beast. And while foxes were considered longtooth, his traits were more like his mother, a swiftstride.

Kitsune was a trickster.

No one was spared a trick if the boy was in a mood, and he often was. His father, his mother, his sibling's and any he could catch unawares was subjected to little tricks here and there. Be is the hiding of spoils, or animal's. He learned very quickly though, after many scoldings and threats that he had to be a stealthy trickster, and so he learned to become one with the shadows, and move at night, while the caravan partied and slumbered.

Kitsune enjoyed wandering with the caravan, and enjoyed the company of stranger's even more. The new and interesting races that they'd meet and trade with on their travel's between oasis'. His interaction with them were limited, as he was still a child, and the older he grew, the more he wished to wander free, away from his caravan and go as he pleased. As the day's grew closer to when he'd take the test of adulthood, his father and mother trained him long and hard, how to find food, water, how to make shelter; how to survive.

And then came the day, at the age of 10, where he was blindfolded, left in the middle of the desert with very little. He had to find his way back to the caravan alive, facing what ever danger's – both bestial and nature alike – stood in his path, with only the stars as his guide. He fought against the waves of sand, so much like water, that threatened to bury him. He scavenged what he could, though there was very little, and conserved what water he'd been left with. Following tracks, that would disappear in hours, he's track his prey and use what they offered for survival.

And finally, after many days and night's the sight of the oasis stood before him and a party was thrown for his arrival. There had been ten children to be sent into the desert, but only 6 adult's returned. The sweetest of wines, the most succulent of meats were offered to these newly made adults, and many of the young woman, young like the adults, made merry in hopes of finding a worthy sultan.

Kitsune had no interest in becoming a sultan, or having many wives, instead his feet itched to run the sands, with only the wind in his hair and a rapier at his side. It took him a week to gather and barter for the supplies he would need to trek out on his own, and there were many young girls who approached him, due to his father fame, but he denied every one of them, with an apology. It was custom to treat women kindly, for they would not choose a rude Sultan to spend their time with; and finally he set out on his own.

With a goodbye kiss to his mother's cheek, and a thumb to brush away her tears – not of sadness, but pride – he set out on his own. He had tasted the freedom, of surviving on his own, of wandering where his feet chose, and not another. Of resting when he felt, and not needing to keep pace with the caravan. He could run, bounce and be free on his own, testing his wits against mother nature herself. It was like a game to him, one that would cost his life if he failed, but he found joy in none the less.

During those three years he traveled all across the spellscard desert, meeting new people, trading and hunting. He never managed to meet up with his old caravan again, but that didn't upset him. Instead each day was treated as a victory, one more day he'd proven himself against the unforgiving wasteland, and yet he yearned for more. Pulling pranks on those of the sands was starting to loose it's shine, and he was already getting well known – Trickster they named him – for his antics, though they could never prove.

He needed greener pastures.

So, with far away places in mind, and new races in his heart he gathered what he'd need to make the long trek out of the desert, and set forth. It was a grueling trek, with no oasis waiting for him on the other side, and there came a time when he doubted himself, but there was no going back. His supplies were dwindling, and though he could hunt food, and drink of it's blood for water, he needed true water to truly quench his thirst.

And then, it came upon him, the green horizon opened before him, which he at first believed was a mirage, but was proven wrong when it got closer and did not stay out of reach. Adjusting his cloak he ran forward and bounded onto the grass with a cry of triumph, though jumped back when the odd sensation touched his feet. He had never felt grass before, and he leaned down to run it over his fingers before he smiled and tried a piece in his mouth.

Which he spit out with distaste, it was not in fact good eating like he'd imagined.

Unlike the desert, which he'd mapped out with the stars, he knew nothing of this new world of green, and so he set out in a random direction. When he stumbled upon a river, he could not stop himself from diving into it's cool depths and splashing about; it was just like the stories he'd heard. Deciding to follow the river, he stumbled upon his first settlement, humans with their young, living in one place! They never moved, simply staying in their homes called houses. It was such a strange concept to him, as his nomadic life was to them.

The first time he'd transformed into his beast form, red fur spreading across his body, his ears taking on a more pointed and thinner look also covered in a thin patch of fur, and a tail sprouting from his bottom; the humans had been terrified. He'd done it for the little ones, who always seemed so amazed with his ability to transform, but he quickly reverted when the adults scrambled to gather their young and step away from him. He assured them that he meant no harm, it was simply his ability to shift, and they didn't push it any further.

But he'd not felt welcomed after that, and so he quickly moved on, a little downcast. It seemed he would have to be careful with his transformations from now on.

Humans and others that he came across were very interesting, and although he'd traded all his trinket's – that he could not attack to his clothes – away for supplies to cross the desert, he quickly set about acquiring more. It started with little things, bells that made him jingle when he danced, silks to add to his colorful array of clothing, and the occasional trinket to sell for room and board.

That wasn't his only means of getting coin. He knew how to hunt, and take apart a carcass, what could be useful and what was waste. He knew how to turn a bladder into a water skin, and to tan a hide, though that took a lot of time. He also made little trinket's out of m=bone and horn, and things for children to play with. He was known for his gifts to the young, as he loved when they'd run up to him, not only for the stories he told of his adventures, but the small toys and trinket's he could make them.

Children were fun. And Trickster lived for fun.

Settling in at a small town, he hears rumors of a rancher trying to buy out another rancher. This gave him an idea for a wicked prank; though his pranks never left any lasting harm, and were meant to bring joy and laughter to others. In the middle of the night, while the villagers slept, Trickster snuck his way in, using bones and sleeping powder to keep the watchful canines from giving him away. He then snuck into where the cows were resting, a grin on his face.

In the morrow, the rancher woke up to his heard missing, thought it was quickly located inside the pen of the rancher trying to buy him out. Trickster howled with laughter as he watched them try and figure out just how this happened, and when the local authorities came in, his eyes sparkled. Of course, he meant not for the man to get into trouble, so the next night, under the cover of the moon and stars, he returned the cattle to where they should be.

With the man locked away, it was proven he could not have done the deed, and was released, and Tri8ckster, a cow bell attached to his belt, was on his way.

He wondered what other adventures awaited him, what tricks would he pull?

#Dungeons and Dragons #A Wanderer named Trickster

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