[@NoriWasHere]Apologies in advance, although we both know they're insincere.

[hider=Generic Fighter][CENTER][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LmRkYTBkZC5VbUZ1YzI5dElFeGhZbVZzYkdVLC4y/golden-jewelry.regular.webp[/img][/CENTER]
[i]"Sure, I’ll play your knight in shining armor. Pay me extra and I’ll even pretend to enjoy it."[/i]
[table][row][/row][row][cell]
[center][img]https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/021/132/814/large/he-xiaosong-hebb.jpg?1570515615[/img]
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
[sub]Ransom Labelle

He/Him  [b]|[/b]   40  [b]|[/b]   Aasimar   [b]|[/b]   Human Heritage  [b]|[/b]   6’1”  [b]|[/b]  180lbs  [b]|[/b]     
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
Dazzle
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
Skills & Talents[/sub]
[i]"Alas, I’m cursed to be more than just a pretty face."[/i]
[sup]___________________________________[/sup][/center][hider=]
[sub]
[b][Highborn Ruffian]  ⫻[/b] Prim, proper, posh. These are things Ransom can pretend to be when needed. He’s well-educated, has a decent understanding of history and tactics, and knows whether he should be using the big fork or the small one. Thanks to his lessons, Ransom can flirt fluently in Elvish and try to make a pass at someone in broken Dwarvish. His pedigree is also the only reason he’s any good at fighting and somehow miraculously alive. 

[b][Lowbrow Dandy]  ⫻[/b] He’s slummed it long enough to fit in with the scoundrels and the ruffians. Lies are his second language and he can usually detect when others are speaking it. Also, while he might look like he’s clowning around while drunk on sherry, he’s always got his eyes peeled for the bastard wanting to pickpocket the pretty boy. 

[b][From the Fall]  ⫻[/b] As an Aasimar, Ransom has a few supernatural gifts from his celestial heritage. He can create a temporary magical light, allowing him to do such neat things like not carry a lantern or play a game of “hide the candle”. He can also kiss a boo-boo and make the pain go away or, if they’re not into that, just use his hands instead. The healing isn’t much and he can’t do it often, but it could potentially stabilize someone. Some Aasimar can even manifest wings. Ransom just ended up spraining his ankle when he tried. 

[b][Bonus to Consitution]  ⫻[/b] For a man who is determined to avoid effort at all costs, Ransom is a shockingly tenacious son of a bitch. He’s barely breaking a sweat after a long fight, he feels reinvigorated after a good forced march or a “tactical” retreat, and he can walk straight after enjoying so many libations that it’d make a dwarf go, “Whoa, buddy.” [/sub][/hider]

[/cell][cell][sub][b] Appearance[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"Heaven sent."[/i]

[indent]Ransom was already on the path of becoming a Neverwinter 10, which is a Waterdeep 8, before his revelation as an Aasimar. Now it would simply be impossible for Ransom to be anything but [i]this[/i] pretty after his blueblood was given a divine infusion. The man appears largely human, fortunately lacking the more “alien” features certain celestials manifest, but certain characteristics give away his angelic inheritance. His blonde hair has a faint glow to it when it's exposed to sunlight, creating a halo like effect that lingers for a brief moment when he steps out of its glorious incandescence. Less obvious are the changes to Ransom’s blue eyes, which gradually lighten to a sky blue before darkening to a navy as the day passes. Also, no matter what he says to try and cover up a little bit of infidelity when he comes crawling home after being out all night, it is just glitter and his pale skin does not sparkle in the morning sun. 

He is built like a dancer, with surprising strength for someone who groans when he has to lift his own backpack. He looks young for his age, although that is just something from the guys above as Aasimar age slower and live longer than humans once they’ve reached maturity. Ransom is oddly unscarred for someone who claims and appears to be as seasoned of a combatant as he is, so it must be thanks to some magical healing or stretched stories. 

Ransom carries himself with a cool confidence, yet if one took a sniff they would catch the air of arrogance that only manifests around someone who comes from money. However, looking at the sorry state of the well-worn gear the Aasimar carries with him and it’s clear that he belongs with the crowd who also came out for copper drink night. His half-plate armor is well-polished but clearly battered, his blue cloak is fraying at the bottom and the dye there has become a brownish-gray after being choked by dirt for years, and his boots just seem a tad loose as if they were made to fit someone else. The way Ransom tends to elongate his words while speaking with his melodic voice clearly betrays him as coming from the upper crust, yet the things he says makes him sound like an absolute bitch.
[/indent]

[/cell][/row][/table][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"Some people say I’m shallow. Is that a bad thing? Nobody ever accidentally drowns in a puddle unless they’re drunk."[/i]

[INDENT][b]MAIN GOAL  ⫻[/b] Ransom hopes for a life of leisure. The sellsword route could one day make it a possibility but it’s just so much damn work. He much rather just wed and bed a princess. Preferably a beautiful elf so that there’ll be no threat of icky grays or wrinkles in his lifetime, but hell he’d settle for a barbaric chieftain if the bed’s cushy enough, the wine keeps flowing, and he doesn’t have to join in on any raids.

[b]PHILOSOPHY  ⫻[/b] He’ll say anything to get his way. Dogmas, morals, and beliefs exist to be exploited and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with doing so if it gets him ahead. People love hearing that they’re right, and Ransom loves people to believe that he’s on their side. Makes them so much more agreeable. It’s a win-win. 

[b]SECRETS  ⫻[/b] It doesn’t require that high of an insight check to realize that Ransom is largely superficial. The biggest surprise might be that while it’s undeniable that he’s a slippery, slimy scumbag, the man does have some basic decency. Very. Basic. Just because he’s selfish doesn’t make him heartless. He just doesn’t want a bunch of peasants pestering him when he’s trying to have a good time at the local tavern. Go get some stupid paladin and pray that they don’t smite the whole town because someone botches the sacrament. 

Also, he’s not in Greyharrow for the work that he claims to be seeking. More on that later.

[b]SEXUALITY  ⫻[/b] He’s no wizard, but Ransom’s been known to cast Knock on boots before. He ain’t a sorcerer, but he can make that Sorcerous Burst with his Thunderclap. He might not have a Wand of Magic Missiles in his pocket, but the mistake is understandable because if he can hit it, he’ll hit it. 

[b]FEARS  ⫻[/b] Oozes. Responsibility. Mages. Oozes is obvious, what if they got in his nose? Responsibility’s pretty clear, too. Life’s easier when the blame can be pointed somewhere else. Mages, now? That could be considered a bit irrational. Ransom knows that most mages are total little bitches who just wave their hands around, mutter some mumbojumbo, and catch a crossbow bolt to the chest before they can unleash their [i]devastating[/i] “make the floor sticky” spell. But then some of them can turn invisible. Control minds. Scry on him when he’s in the john. A strong enough mage could even turn into an ooze. Then what? 

Then he’s got a mage in his nose. 

[b]WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW  ⫻ [/b]  Unless there’s a bodacious princess hiding amongst the slackjawed and poxmarked locals then Ransom must only be in this shithole for work. Bodyguard duty, basement rat killing, caravan escorting, dungeon spelunking, whatever gig that comes with some coin up front he’s down to do. Allegedly, anyway. The truth is that Ransom came to town with his work already lined up for him: bounty work.

[b]WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM  ⫻ [/b] Beloved, surely, and anyone who says otherwise is just jealous! Okay, not quite. Ransom might be a recent arrival, but this isn’t his first time in Greyharrow. Most people fairly assume that he’s a foppish, playboy loudmouth who’s a bit of a dick but really not worth the price of the rug they’d use to stash his body in. Still, he’s a welcome sight at the Waystone Inn, celebrated for his carousing, his entertaining if largely fabricated stories, and his love for prop bets and gambling despite his nigh legendary bad luck with cards and dice. Outside of that he’s known to have a good swordhand and won’t let someone walk into the obvious pit trap just to get a bigger slice of the treasure. 

[b]EQUIPMENT  ⫻[/b] Ransom has a once elegant rapier that has long lost its luster, a dagger on his belt, and another in his boot. He also has a hand crossbow and will always claim to have at least twenty bolts despite what empirical evidence might say otherwise. He protects himself with some polished but battered half-plate armor, which is like plate armor but instead of getting full coverage he instead has some severe vulnerabilities that aren’t protected because he can’t afford to pay for it–just like in real life! He has a visored helm as well to protect the moneymaker or to serve as an uncomfortable but portable footrest.  Ransom has a noticeable lack of practical equipment such as torches, flint, rope, emergency rations, backpacks, bedrolls, and so on because that’s for the help to carry.

[b]FLAWS  ⫻[/b] No. He’s perfect*

[right][sub]*Wisdom is his dump stat. To say that Ransom is merely overconfident and prideful would be an insult. The man is hubris incarnate. He would’ve gotten himself killed in a duel years ago if he wasn’t so annoyingly good with a sword. He also has a mild case of a major gambling addiction and will lose all of his gold in a sure fire win if someone does not babysit him.[/sub][/right]
[/INDENT]

[sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"Ladies, if your jealous husband ever asks why his son is starting to glow, never answer him by saying that an angel put its spark in you. Ruins the marriage."[/i]

[indent]Originally the heir apparent to the noble Labelle family, Ransom was groomed for excellence. He was educated by the most brilliant tutors, trained by the finest of swordsmen, and taught etiquette by just an utterly–ugh–just the most annoying and snooty old halfling he’s ever met named Mrs. Marmsdale. Then at some point in his teens he started sparkling in places he hadn’t shined before and his dad got all mad at his mom. The court mage (who was an absolute prick) did some magic malarky and, well, one beheading, a second marriage, and a successful pregnancy later and suddenly Ransom was no longer the heir. 

And it was such a relief! 

Sure, at first Ransom was considering the absolute classic “blanket-in-the-crib” tech for reclaiming his birthright, but then he reconsidered. From what Ransom had been shown, running a fiefdom was actually totally awful. His dad’s entire day was just spent listening to dirty, stinky peasants complain about the dumbest of things–”ohhhh, it didn’t rain and now I can’t eat”, “ooooh, oooh, my money was stolen by this guy dressed all in black and now I can’t pay my taxes”, “oooh, oooh, ooooh, goblins murdered my whole family”–like, what a bunch of losers! Now Ransom could just be rich. Plus, he didn’t have to suffocate a baby and that little asshole could deal with  all those annoying poors instead. What a sucker.

Then his uncle on his mother's side had to get involved, making some big hubbub about justice and holy vengeance and how his nephew was the rightful heir and for some reason a bunch of these stupid peasants also got all mad about it. Suddenly oops, there’s a succession crisis.  Now, there are two ways to go about such a problem. The first is to go back to that blanket tech, but when the target’s not a baby but a manbaby that gets a bit tough. The second is a civil war, which typically aren’t very fun and/or chill. However, Ransom found the super secret third option that nobody told him about: just leave. Run away. Beat feet. Turns out with no other interested heir present there can’t be a succession crisis. 

Problem solved.

He later heard whilst he was traipsing around as a sellsword that his uncle was also beheaded. After a few years of proper “adventuring” (which was mostly just drinking, gambling, and bedroom delving), a nearly broke Ransom made his grand return home. He was certain that everything had calmed down and if he couldn’t move back into his old room he could at the very least get some allowance. As it turns out, those goblins ended up actually being a much bigger problem than they had seemed, and the whole “family murder” thing was still very much their bag. 

Ransom no longer had an allowance he could collect and the goblins had turned his old room into a shrine for some Nomog-Gewhatever, so it was back to adventuring. The only problem was that without having a pocket full of platinum to go along with his silverspoon it turned out that he had to actually give it a proper go this time. Any success Ransom had over the years was almost always immediately met with a setback–definitely none of them ever by his own fault ever, it was a surefire bet, he just got unlucky. Either way, he never quite made it. 

When times got tough, and they got tough often, Ransom always found himself slunking back to Greyharrow. It’s hard to say what drew him to the place. Perhaps it’s because it’s one of the first towns he visited when he’d initially set out and he just liked the vibe. Perhaps it’s because he’s madly in love with Liliana Scratch despite (or because of) how much she freaks him out. Or maybe it’s because it’s a town full of big, beautiful bounties and once he’s established himself he can trick a group of them to go score some phony treasure just over in them ruins yonder and then have the crew of hirelings he’d posted up there beforehand make some rocks fall. Score all of those bounties in one easy, flawlessly planned go.

But then, boom, bang, space. Maybe he just isn’t unlucky; maybe he’s cursed. Either way the plan’s scrapped. And what about poor little hirelings outside of town. Did they get unmade in the reality warping whateverthefuck? Are they still in those ruins, freezing with their thumbs up their asses, thinking that they’ve been played? Does he care? Should he?

Eh. 

At least he didn’t pay them up front. 

[/indent]

[sup][b] Other[/b][/sup]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"What are the odds that there’s a bounty office in Greyharrow?"[/i]

[indent]The estate Ransom grew up on was named Labelle Gardens. The goblins are still there. They’ve renamed it to Gobelle Gardens. It has become a goblin paradise. Mrs. Marmsdale still resides there and has taught them all how to be proper, real fancylike goblins.[/INDENT]

[sub][b]FIGHTER[/b][/sub] 
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"You can tell a lot about a man by his weapon of choice. Longbow? Coward. Polearm? Plebian. Greatsword? Overcompensating."[/i]

[indent][b]TYPE  ⫻[/b] Fighter (Battle Master)

[b]FIGHTING STYLE  ⫻[/b] Ransom is a dexterious duelist, overwhelming his opponents with a flurry of quick thrusts, fancy footwork, and the occasional poor sportsmanship. He views a fight as much of a mental war as it is a physical one, trying to make his foes fumble while punishing their blunders with precision. Ransom would rather score a dozen wounds than gamble on a deathblow that would overextend himself; an infection or a slow bleed out kills a man just as well as a blade. Ransom is a southpaw, preferring to wield a rapier over other swords, and tends to fight with one hand open to allow for improvisation. He might pull out the occasional parrying dagger if he needs to fight defensively, but when steel is dancing Ransom prefers being the one who leads. 

[b]CURRENT WEAPONS  ⫻[/b] Ransom’s go to weapon is a silvered rapier that has begun to tarnish around the guard. For someone so full of himself, he’s frustratingly able to back up any boasts he might make about his skill with a blade. Ransom has picked up various feints and flourishes, allowing him to use his finesse to disarm an opponent or distract their attention to allow him to hit them where they don’t expect it. 

His daggers are fairly run-of-the-mill and often disposable, used primarily in his offhand to parry blades and give himself an opportunity to riposte with his rapier. They have been balanced to be thrown, and coupled with a standard handcrossbow he hides beneath his cloak they can be used to take a sudden cheapshot at a short range. 

However, the most dangerous weapon that Ransom wields beside his rapier is the improvised one. A barstool makes for a great sword catcher and a slightly worse club. An oil lantern is a mundane man’s firebolt. A cape might seem impractical in a fight, but through it at some chaps’ head and Ransom has suddenly cast the Darkness spell without having to sign his soul away to burn in the Nine Hells. 

[b]TRAINING  ⫻[/b] Ransom was trained by the finest of swordmasters that a lesser noble family could afford. Ransom [i]learned[/i] to fight drunkenly just outside of the tavern or at dawn with nobody present but his foe and their seconds.

[b]LIMITS  ⫻[/b] Ransom lacks any real long range options. His hand crossbow travels the furthest, but its accuracy and potency falls off beyond ten paces. Ransom does not have a good answer when it comes to dealing with a large group of enemies. Often, his best option is either to run or find a way to force the mob to funnel themselves into a chokepoint so he can engage them one at a time. 

[b]WEAKNESSES  ⫻[/b] (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
[/INDENT][/hider]