curious gobber with high aspirations and a twinkling of the heroic in him
Strength: 9 Hit Points: 8 Dexterity: 15 IQ: 12 Will: 11 Perception: 12 Health: 9 Fatigue Points: 8
Encumbrance Move Dodge None: 16 5 9 Light: 32 4 8 Medium: 48 3 7 Heavy: 96 2 6 X-Heavy: 160 1 5
Gobber: (Spoken- native) (Written-nil) 3 pt. Five Cant: (Spoken-accented) (Written- NA) 2 pt. Common (Ordic): (Spoken-native) (Written-accented) 5 pt. Rigs Code: (Spoken-NA) (Written/other- accented) 2 pt.
Obsession: Adds 10 wants to educate himself about the world and its cultures, to become worldly, and to rise above the class expectations of most gobbers. riches won’t do, requires knowledges, and cultural experience. Particularly interested in knowledge of history, philosophy, and any arts
Phobia (Spiders) Adds 5
Social Stigma (Minority) Adds (template)
Fearfulness 2 Adds (template)
Debt: (Paid off) Adds: 10 10% of wealth each month When his sister Elleg-ona-oran-rel was framed for poisoning her boss Ano went to a gambling hall, the Jack O’ Crowns, and asked the owner to bail her out. They actually came to him and offered a “loan”...
Contact: 4pt. (connected) (appearance: 12 or less) (skill level:15) Quinn is a well-connected information and goods dealer in the Five Fingers Undercity, but he keeps a low-profile. He never gives away information on his customers and he provides a generous 15 % discount for Ano’s patronage. The two have struck more than one deal, and Quinn likes the way Ano works. Usually it’s clean, equally low-profile, and high profit. And Quinn is well-aware of Ano’s connections to Striga, formerly the Bellrow Troubleshooters. He watches their growth with interest.
Reputation 3 Word is out about this guy and his company. Apparently he started it with a small group of mercenaries, and the leading manager has since moved on to be the first mate onboard the “Red Feather.” He’s known to be one fast courier, an equally slippery devil, a savy negotiator, and a deadly pistoleer. Most gobbers know about him and they’re starting to take pride in the name he’s making, but there are an increasing number of merchants who recognize the name and know it means fair deals and success. Occasionally there surface some darker aspects or more extraordinary tales about him. In one, he cut both eyeballs out of a giant crocodile with a dagger. Another says he blew the faces off three mercenaries who wouldn’t yield their weapons or stop attacking. In another he survived a fall from the Rigs that would have certainly killed most men, let alone gobbers. They say he’s been seen in the seediest joints on Wake to the most pricey gambling halls, and now, word has it that he attended the Lady’s Doyle’s after hours party last week. Responses are understandably mixed then. High society resents his recent appearances but tolerates them for now. Merchants are coming to the consensus that he’s an upstanding investigation unit leader. And street toughs are just looking to get in good with him or drive his face in the mud for prior successes.
Chameleon 3 Cost (template)
Gobber Teeth Cost (template)
Discriminatory Smell Cost (template)
Night Vision 3 Cost (template)
Resistant to Poison +3 Cost (template)
Slippery +2 Cost 4
Perfect Balance Cost 15
Soft-hearted (but tries to hide it)
Likes heights, views
Minor Low Self-Esteem about his his appearance, esp. his belly
Habit of over-eating
Written on some future date, at the request of an archivist specializing in travelers and people of note: A gobber’s life has never really been something for the legends, so I doubt this will ever get into any of the storybooks, but I’ll give it spitshine try. Growin’ up on Dicer in the cramped housing made for migrants, dockworkers, and other half-people forced to live with gobbers. Dicer’s Laggers roamed the alley at night, so I learned the value of rooftop travel at an early age. My mother always scolded me for using the ropes. She always thought my destiny lay in artistry or storytelling. Obviously, she was a little out of touch with contemporary society, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think of her every night. Perhaps she’s the only gobber I know who believed I had a soul with desires, that maybe a gobber’s life wasn’t enough for me. Or maybe she filled my head so full of heroism that she permanently damaged me, setting me off kilter ever after. Now my father taught me to appreciate those things the big races never notice about us. He had me in his courier’s bag before I could walk proper. He was weightless, and I was in flight. But really, he was working himself to death too. Most gobbers I knew were. His calloused hands were rough and split, despite the heavy leather wraps he wore. His body was bent over and tight. Humans would never recognize the difference, but when a gobber’s young they have a certain charm and zeal in their voice. But my father sounded more like a troll than a gobber, and even his stories were heavy like his voice, filled with warnings and lessons. Still, he and my mother took the time to take us onto the roof at times and treat us to juice. Elleg was a much better gobber than me. She knew that of our skills, our talent for alchemy an mechanics were most respected, so she apprenticed in alchemy early. At the same time, she never forgot the tenets of our culture and was ever ready for an opportunity to pull a little coin her way. I, on the other hand, with all of my dreams of heroism, I never had the courage to go beyond my courier work. Of course, I did take a few jobs on the side, but none of them were terribly illegal. Really, my life was quiet…for a time. And then someone knocked off old Ichabod Gribner, Elleg’s mentor, and whoever it was knew their alchemy, cause he was poisoned right well. Well of course Elleg was pinned as the murderess, no matter that it made no sense for her to poison her mentor, and that she’d never have a chance of taking over his shop anyway. The courts just figured she had no concept of the idea of written wills and the like. And I’m sure the defense or the judge or both were greased well, so they just threw the unhappy gobber girl in jail and wiped their hands. Only this gobber was my sister. Heh. But I knew the city well by now, and I knew who people went to for money. And so I went down to the Lady of Ample Luck and spoke to some representatives. They caught wind of me before I found them, and I was taken to meet Nester Illbrind. Nester cut me a deal, seeing how Elleg was obviously set up to take the fall for someone else. He’d get Elleg out, and clean her record if I’d repay him with 2000 blackpennies, divided in payments over the course of 20 months. And of course, he pleasantly added, he might ask for a favor or two from me in the meantime, but afterwards I’d be a free man and he’d have no claims on me. I being a fool, a right idiot, agreed. Elleg still tears my ears up for that, saying that I should just keep my nose out of big games and big debts, and try not to be a hero. But it was too late. I had had it. My father had recently passed away, and my mother lives the quiet life. My sister tried to play their game, but being a gobber she was the first to take the fall. I decided, I’d take some chances…take a chance for bloody sake, and …well…heh heh…start a business. But for that I had to make a name for myself. A name that meant something more than a gobber, a courier, or just one of the slime off the streets. It started like this. I became one of the fastest couriers in town, and then some got wind that I was a damn good guide. And ever so slowly, jeepers creepers my nights were occasionally spent on more …challenging jobs. I took the most expensive jobs I could and I never got caught, and this just added to my rep. Still smalltime or peanuts as my dad would have said, I was no longer just a courier. It was time to start thinking of business… And that’s how I began playin’ with the idea of a mercenary company. So, what of it? Nobody ever heard of a gobber mercenary? That’s right. They’re out there…that’s right…they are. It dawned on me all of a sudden that the company wasn’t really what I was after. I wanted to be free. Truly free. I wanted to walk beside a wood elf one day, because, dammit, I would one day prove myself ‘worthy’ enough. Or maybe I would dance with a pretty human, because a gobber might like to dance at one of those balls too. And stuff your snickering at that. Like I said, I was a little off my rocker, and all of those stories and aspirations that my mother fed me came barreling back until I decided that in some small way, who I was, who I am, matters to all gobbers. That in some small way, I change what it means to be a gobber. And like some guardian spirit, that’s when I met Mrs. Laura Sole. I couldn’t help my feelings for her.