You worked underground, mining rare elements or energy. Life as a miner is hard, even with all the technology available today, and it rarely pays well. You feel at home beneath the surface, and have learned not to fear the dark.

What were you mining? Why did you leave? Who employed you? Did you witness any tragedy, and if so how was it handled?

You have done time. Quite a lot of time, in fact; enough to fully acclimate to the life of a prisoner, whether you deserved it or not. Your time incarcerated has shaped you as an individual and it is highly unlikely that you bear much resemblance to the person you were before you went inside.

You were born yesterday.

Well, maybe not yesterday, but you do not have a full history the way that others do. Any memories you may have are implanted, and skills and knowledge pre-programmed via advanced genetic engineering and DNA splicing. There’s not much stigma about clones, but they can inspire a little jealousy at times, being slightly ‘better’ at many things than naturally born individuals.

The person from whom a clone is copied is known as the ‘template.’

You kept a city running through the sweat of your brow, loading and unloading ships, serving as an extra pair of hands on a construction site, and performing other tasks. It isn’t always honest work, but it’s always hard work.

Why did you leave this life behind? How did you get your adventuring skills and equipment?

You’ve had to make a living with your fists, but you’ve never had time to develop a particularly attractive style of fighting. The world is a rough place to make it in, and if that meant breaking a chair over your opponent’s head or taking them down with a grapple, then so be it.

With this brutal fighting style at your disposal, did you seek out excitement and opponents or was fighting for pay merely a grim reality? Did you leave a trail of broken bodies or reluctant admirers in your wake?

+1 to Strength or Dexterity, and +1 to Constitution.

You left adventuring for your own reasons and set up to what you long considered to be an honest profession. Whether it was tending bar at a tavern, mending broken tools at a blacksmith, or some other work, it has kept you in relatively good shape, even though you may be constantly looking over your shoulder.

What caused you to quit a life of adventure? What drags you back? What are you leaving behind?

There is no high king or empress of Endora— instead each demesne provides annual tithes to the Endoran Militia and becomes responsible for its command for a given year. Endoran citizens born on the third Aluday of Parra are consigned into service from birth, sworn by their parents to serve their demesne when the time comes in an ancient practice drafted from rules established in the Imperial Age long ago. As one of the children born on the fateful third Aluday of Parra, you were handed over to one of the demesnes of Endora and raised along other infant conscripts.

You have done time. Quite a lot of time, in fact; enough to fully acclimate to the life of a prisoner, whether you deserved it or not. Your time incarcerated has shaped you as an individual and it is highly unlikely that you bear much resemblance to the person you were before you went inside.

You spent long years captive to an Underland empire, where you grew accustomed to ways that aren’t your own. You are now a stranger to your own people, having replaced their social mores with those you learned while underground. Your bizarre ways mystify them: you don’t wake and sleep with the sun, you eat strange foods, and you often use words and phrases that they’ve never heard.

You’re an experienced mariner with a keen weather eye and a favorite tavern in every port. Hard voyages have toughened you and the sea’s power has made you humble.

Were you a deckhand, an officer, or the captain of your vessel? Did you crew a naval cutter, a fishing boat, a merchant’s barge, a privateering vessel, or a pirate ship?