Phillip was born in (Small Village) as the eldest son of the Lammar family. (Small Village) was the kind of close knit community that only arises when the only two activities are “Talk to Each Other” and “Work”; people knew each other and trusted each (other more or less). There were still squabbles, but people talked out their problems. If the argument came to blows, the local Drunken Bar Brawl custom was evoked. (Small Village)er’s treated each other fairly, because if you committed a crime, one of the Lammars would show you the error of you ways (which happened to look like fists). Since time Immemorial, the Lammars had been the keepers of law and order(subject to the Village Council, of course). Just like some families were farmers or blacksmiths, the Lammars taught their children how to put down a bar brawl, or catch the thief. The clan itself was unusually tough, but they also worked to toughen and strength their bodies. Their day to day duties were to go around the neighboring households and act as temporary labor. Everyone in town knew them, and a Lammar was always useful to have around.Tradition mandated that the toughest work for the day was given to them .The children dug ditches and chopped wood. A Lammar in his prime, however, was expected to pull up stumps and convince the occasional stubborn horse that, “no, I really do want to move now.” And when the rare occasion called for it, they’d show up administer beatings to those who needed them. Not that Lammars were any more aggressive than the other townspeople (they always felt bad about the beating they were administering), but it was family duty to uphold the law and if you need some sense beat into you, they would be the ones to do it.
Peace existed in (Small Village) nearly all the time. Nearly. Unfortunately, once a year the town would be flooded with travelers on the yearly pilgrimage to (Sacred Place of Worship). And travelers never knew the rules, which kept the Lammar family very busy most of the time. Some (Big City) blacksmith or carpenter would drink his wits away and start a fight and it’d be Phillip’s job take care of it. Like every Lammar, he was taught to use a quarterstaff, that being the family’s favored weapon. Patriarchs of the family wielded the Iron Root, a normal looking quarterstaff that had been in the family for longer than anyone could remember. Legend said a Druid made it from a branch of the first tree to grow in the nearby (Imposing Sounding Name) Forest. No one had actually noticed any magic from it, but it had somehow managed to be not to be sundered in the last eight generations, and that had to be something.
Phillip lived his life as his family always had, until travelers started bringing ill tidings from the outside world. Darkness was growing, and seeing it, a hundred generations told Phillip he had to go out and do something about it. He gathered his traveling gear, kissed his Da and Ma goodbye, and left carrying Iron Root. The first stop on his trip was (Big City). Hoping to find traveling companions, Phillip attempted to find the nearest Inn, but he wasn’t familiar with the city and couldn’t find it. He walked down the crowded streets, trying to follow the direction he got from the man with the eye patch, but he ended up at a dead end in an alleyway. The first thief on him he let go with a limp. The second one got his nose smashed in. When the man in the eye patch came at him, he realized that he wasn’t getting through to them; unfortunately he was going to have to hurt him so they’ll leave him alone. As he woke up, the man in the eye patch realized he had six teeth missing. After that, he noticed that someone had placed them in his hand, “How considerate” thought the man in the eye patch.
Eventually Phillip found the Inn where (Chance Meeting with Other Members of Team) occurs and (Shared Experience that Unites the Motley Crew) results.