Ok so I'm still crap at D&D and this is the middle of the night for me right now, so I'mma just bull**** my old SU from the last one off pure memory.
Name: Dagger
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Class: I think it was Sorceror
Diety: Ha. No. Athiest af.
Alignment: Probably lawful neutral
Backstory, going first person too because WHY THE HECK NOT:
You want to hear me whine about my sob story? Fine. I grew up in the Forest-Lands, though there wasn't much growing up I got the chance to do before that ****ing General ***face started causing ****. The spot I was living in just happened to be one of the first casualties of war ((If the forestlands were never attacked, just pretend he grew up in Icatha)). My family did not survive, but I managed to escape with an even smaller child than myself under my metaphorical wing. Cue several years of begging, stealing, learning to harness my then-spastic magic on the side, and making sure my little tagalong stayed both safe and healthy. I... eventually failed the latter task, thanks to the task before it... and the child died. ...And thus I learned that caring for others is a hindrance far more than it is an advantage, especially if you barely even have the means to care for yourself much less anyone else. I evolved my begging and stealing ways into a somewhat Rogue-like lifestyle, but my main focus is further perfecting magic so that calamity stops following me wherever I go. The end.