Bio

The Making of Sam Turnbull

“So you want to know about Sam Turnbull? I know the man you’s lookin’ for. So how much is it worth to you?

“Okay okay, I’ll talk, I’ll talk. Can’t a man take care of himself when he offers to help? Yes, I know Sam Turnbull. He’s been the, uh, doorman over at the Golden Gourd for a couple years now. He knows how to keep the peace without making much fuss, so they like him a lot over there. Place like that don’t want no trouble in our outside, so they have Sam to watch over things.

“It’s a step up from where he used to work the door, I can tell you that. In his teen years he took care of business in a little dive off the docks called The Barnacle. But even as a kid he was too classy for that joint. All hell’d be breaking out all around him and he’d calmly throw those fists of his about for a minute or two and settle it down. Once heard that he got in the middle of a row between some sailors who were arguing ‘bout who was gonna pay the tab. Sam knew they was about to sail out owing the house some copper, but he took care of it. Knocked the two loudest of them boys out cold with two swings, then set them up nice and tidy at the bar until they woke up. They still din’t have two coppers to rub together between them, but their ship had sailed on the morning tide, so he just put them to work scrubbing out the stove in the kitchen. That’s Sam for you – mind your business and he’ll leave you alone, but don’t think yer gonna get away without settling up before you go.

“Yeah the Golden Gourd is where you’ll find him now. One thing about a place like the Gourd, they don’t like nothing out of place, ‘specially not no cut ups or slash rumbles. Sam’s a good fit ‘cause he don’t ever carry no blades, not even a shiv from what I heard. Likes to use just his hands, but with him, that’s plenty. Once heard that an uppity merchant’s brat came ‘round waving his rapier claiming one of the Gourd’s regulars had cheated him at the market with some wine that was little more than goblin piss. Shoutin’ ‘bout goblin piss was bad enough, but I reckon it was the pig-sticker that annoyed Sam the most. Boy woke up hanging on the gate one of the local temples by his arms that were wrapped three times ‘round with the blade of his rapier. Not sure if that’s true or not, but that’s the sort of thing Sam would do.

“What’s he look like? That’s easy! He’s go curly red hair dancing a jig on top of his skull and furry red side-burns charging down his face to his chin. It’s hard to miss a head of hair like that on anyone, but Sam’s rides high above most others, as that boy’s tall as a horse. Nah, he’s not a big guy, just a tall one. He’s strong, but in a wiry, wily way. He’s more lean and mean than big and bulky. Scrappy as a ferret, from what I hear, but he keeps his cool, at least at the Gourd. Yeah, you wanna find him, that’s where’d I’d take my peeks. But if you do, don’t try leaving unitl you settle up. “