Present day Interactions: Edwina, Liliana Outfit: Leather coat (plus sword and buckler)
Lucky snorted at the sheer audacity of the red tiefling. People are dying, and she has a problem with him standing a bit too close to the door? The hell did she know about helping people, anyway? He went out there and saved multiple lives by himself. All she did was stand on the roof and bark orders. Smoke pillowed out of his nostrils like some kind of feline-dragon hybrid, sending him bending over in a massive coughing fit.
Once he managed to compose himself, he extended a claw on his index finger and pointed it in her face.
"Listen here, Spooky, I don't know what in the God's name is yer problem, and I ain't fixin' to find out, but I can stand wherever the hell I want, ya fuckin' loony, fiddleheaded yellow-dog!"
The incessant yapping from that irritating fox was giving him a headache. God's, how he hated that fox. He took a moment to sneer at it before continuing his tirade.
"And yer fox? Don't squat with yer spurs on, Spooky, I wouldn't touch that nasty thing with a 10-foot pole! Ya'd better get a hold of that little varmint before it gets snatched up and someone passes it off as some fuckin' pork 'n beans!"
Their bickering was interrupted by the bard introducing herself. Lucky's voice softened as he addressed her. His tone wasn't kind in the slightest, but it was far closer to cold indifference than the poison he was spewing at the tiefling.
"Howdy, the name's Bartholomew, but folks 'round here just call me Lucky.
Oh, and by the way, I think yer a damn lousy picker. Ya outta drop that lute and pick up a real geetar."
Present day Interactions: Edwina, Liliana Outfit: Leather coat
Lucky grasped Edwina's hands in a gesture of gratitude.
"Thanks, Undertaker, I couldn't stomach seeing that guys legs all fucked up fer another second."
The deafening sound made Lucky jump into the air and expel a distinctly feline scream. As Edwina looked at him, he looked back, unable to hide the startle in his expression. It brought back memories of enduring shellings back in the Old Frontier. Memories that were still damn too vivid. Memories that made him wonder if the world would be better off if he was killed in those shellings. He let himself breathe a sigh of relief when Liliana cast whatever spell she did. He didn't know shit about magic outside of the Focus, but anything that prevents him from dying in a way his Focus powers wouldn't prevent is something Lucky is a fan of.
"Dammit, couldn't ya have done that a little bit sooner, Barkeep?"
"My offer still stands. If there is anything you want to get off your chest before our mutual demise, I am all ears."
Lucky pulled out a cigarette and took a long drag before answering Ed's inquiry.
"I shouldn't be alive right now, but I am. That's why my name's Lucky. I'm nothin' more than a low-down cheap mercenary trying to escape a horrific past that I deserved every lick of. If tonight's the night that I become buzzard food, then it's been a long time comin'."
In and around the Waystone Inn Interactions: The citizens, man! The citizens! (Plus Latrom, Dev and Edwina) Outfit: Leather coat (plus gear)
The giant came just in time. Lucky was starting to lose his grip. He grabbed the man from underneath his shoulders and pulled him out to saftey.
"I got ya, lil' doggy"
He stopped to address the giant, but only briefly, he had to check to the this poor sap right here.
"Thanks, big feller"
He turned back to face the injured man
"Can ya walk?"
The man shook his head, "No, not really"
"Well, good thing I can." He responded
Lucky slowly lifted the man up, placing his arm over his shoulder.
"How you feeling? Good? I'll focus on doin' most of the walkin'. Just stay with me, cowboy."
The two of them limped together in the world's most dangerous three-legged race towards the Inn. When they arrived, Lucky found a nearby seat to help the man into, then noticed something that made him sick to his stomach. A balding fellow near the entrance with heavily mutilated legs, groaning in agony. The sight of it made Lucky throw up in his mouth. He sprinted back outside (almost tripping over the fox on the floor in the process) and relieved his stomach of its contents onto the snow. Lucky hadn't seen something that horrifying in years. If anything, he had to try to comfort him, just to let him know that he wasn't alone.
Lucky approached the balding man, kneeled down to his level, pulled out a cigarette, and pointed it towards the man's groaning lips.
"Hey man, ya wanna smoke?"
The man, far too in shock to formulate words, simply nodded. Lucky placed the cigarette in the man's mouth and lit it for him.
"Think about the buzz, man. Focus on the feeling in yer head, not the legs. Yer gonna make it, I promise you"
The bard had thankfully finished her spiel, freeing the space for Lucky to yell out for the only healing mage he trusted, Edwina.
"UNDERTAKER! THIS FELLA'S LEGS ARE CATAWAMPTIOUSLY CHAWED UP! I NEED YER HOCUS POCUS SHIT!"
In and around the Waystone Inn Interactions: Gulda, Lairëcúma Outfit: Leather coat
“I’ll be back with my drinks. If you find someone for me to beat at something, I can give you one, you freeloading, furball hacking, son of a bitch.”
Lucky cackled, "Ya got some damn nerve assumin' I can't afford my own drink, but sure." He scanned the inn, assessing who would make the perfect victim for Gulda when he was suddenly rocked to the floor.
"What in tarnation?"
He'd felt tremors before back in the Old Frontier, but nothing like that. Normal tremors didn't sound like that. And the sounds that came afterwards, the destruction, the screaming, oh gods. Whatever was going on outside, it was a disaster and he needed to help, that's what Winch's do when danger is found.
Lucky sprinted outside to see what was happening, pushing past that obnoxious bard in the process. He flung open the door and was left speechless by what he saw. What the hell was happening to the wizard tower? What the hell was happening to the town? He hasn't seen death and destruction on this scale in years, not since the shelling of Wrychapel back in the Old Frontier. He threw up a little bit in his mouth at the sheer scale of suffering that he was witnessing, but quickly came back to his senses.
He needed to help, and to do that, he needed his gear. Thankfully he set up his hut close to the Waystone Inn, hopefully it was still intact.He raced through the streets of Greyharrow, dodging falling rocks with catlike agility. His hut was intact. Meaning his gear was intact. Thank the Gods.
"HELP!"
Amongst the dust, Lucky noticed a nearby woman with her foot stuck under a piece of rubble.
He tried to lift it.
Too heavy.
He remembered an old trick from the Old Frontier.
Lucky grabbed his rucksack from the hut and found his old rusty buckler. He dug it into the ground underneath the stone at a diagonal angle and stepped on the other end with his boot, forming a makeshift lever that pushed it up enough for her to free her foot.
"Can ya walk? Yeah? Good. Git yer ass to the Waystone, it's safe there!"
He noticed something horrific closer to the Inn, a man trapped under more rubble, his screams inaudible amongst all the commotion. The only person who could help him right now is Lucky. He ran over, dodging more debris along the way. The man was trapped underneath a giant slab of stone, one that his buckler definitely wouldn't be able to lever up. He struggled to lift it, but it wouldn't budge. The more Lucky tried to lift it, the more desperate he got. He couldn't allow someone to die in front of him, not again. He could never live with himself. He shouted out at the top of his lungs:
The Waystone Inn Interactions: Ransom, Lairëcúma, Gulda Outfit: Leather coat
"Hold on. Time out"
"Quit whatever that weird shit is and go lick your asshole or something. Just give me one minute."
Lucky deactivated The Focus and sighed. He was getting rather tired with the scene that was rapidly unfolding. He despised being the center of attention with every fiber of his being. This guy wanted a minute? He'll give him more than a minute, he'll get the rest of the goddamn night. The moment Ransom turned his back to him, he began stumbling towards the door. He wasn't staying outside with these Gods-forsaken people for another moment.
Well, maybe just one more moment. He turned to address Edwina.
"Sorry for all the ruckus, Undertaker. Just wanted to let ya know Gulda just gave some fool a sloggin' for cheatin' her in some cards. I reckon he's gonna need a patchin' up. Usually I wouldn't give a buffalo's ass, but he's a tabaxi, just like me."
Before he could make it back inside unnoticed, Ransom turned around to address him.
“First to injure. No magic. You pick the weapon, the time, and the location. Aaaand…”
Lucky scoffed. He knew Ransom was too busy wobbling jaw (as he would put it) at the bard to actually hear him, but he responded anyway, mostly for the sake of making it clear who the real asshole here is.
"How about, no, no, and no? Duelin' is some'n that ya do with guns, and I ain't gunslingin' no more. Leave me the fuck alone." He growled, making sure it was loud enough for everybody to hear. He turned around to go back inside. Gulda had probably put the table back up by now, and he had the stomach for a couple more drinks tonight.
"I believe we have all witnessed quite enough of this evening's theatrics. Perhaps we might seek warmer company - and drinks - elsewhere?"
The comment made Lucky's fur crawl. He was annoyed enough at Ransom, this chick making a whole song and dance of the thing was like rubbing salt in the wound. Then she has the audacity to act like HE'S the annoyance here? Like he somehow WANTS to be a part of this? It got under his skin like a parasite, he couldn't help but shout out a snide response as he stormed back into the inn.
"Yes! Please! Go away!"
Lucky makes a beeline for Gulda's table, sits down, buries his face in his hands, and groans. He didn't even get to really enjoy his cigarette. Nothing about this night was going the way he wanted it to, but at least he could complain about it to his only friend.
"Uggghhhhhh, You see that shit, Gulda? Gods, I fucking hate knights. And that bard? I've heard better singing from vultures. Completely ruined my smoke, those two.
Outside the Waystone Inn Interactions: Ransom Outfit: This coat was made for fightin'
A smoke.
Just a smoke.
Just a GODDAMN smoke.
All he wanted was to have a quick smoke then go back to drinking with his only friend.
That's all he fucking wanted.
But Lucky- no, Bartholomew Winch is not a man who gets what he wants in life. This is something that he's known for a long time. He was used to it by now.
Swaying from side to side, Lucky took another long, slow drag of his cigarette. He was drunk, but not drunk enough that he couldn't still use The Focus. He looked Ransom up and down, trying to gauge his general fighting ability and style. He had plenty of experience handling big & bulky opponents, but these high-society types usually fought with more finesse than a drunken Gulda did. He was confident he could handle this guy, but he'd need to take this scrap a bit more seriously than the standard bar fight.
"What's with this big shiny buffoon? He wants to duel me? Without a gun? What kind of lunatic duels somebody without a gun?" Lucky thought to himself as he blew smoke in Ransom's face.
Knowing there was no way out of this, he tossed his cigarette to the ground, right on top of Ransom's glove.
"Look here, ya rootin'-tootin' highfalutin' fool. I can tell that yer all hat and no cattle, so I'll make this damn simple: Ya want satisfaction? Fuck off, leave me to my smokes, go home, & grip yer dick. Ya hear?"
Lucky took a single step back, extended his feline claws, and began staring intensely at Ransom. He took a long, deep breath, then another, then another. With every breath his eyes began to slowly cloud over as he lulled into a semi-trance state. From his perspective, everything around him began to blur, except for Ransom.
His plan was simple. He knew he could dodge any first, second, and third strike the man threw at him from underneath all that heavy armor. The Focus made sure of that. He was also probably sure that armor would tire this fool out quicker than The Focus would do for himself. All he had to do was wait for an opening, then claw at his face until he begs for mercy.
Present day Interactions: Lila, Ransom (Briefly and physically), Cali (Briefly), Kel (Briefly) Grask (Staring) Outfit: Leather coat
"Insult? That's just what we used to call y'all folks back where I'm from, I ain't mean nothing nasty by it."
As the half-elf pushed the vial closer to him, he quickly snatched it and began refilling his lighter. He'd knew the oil wasn't hers, but he didn't care. He'd seen the owner of that particular sack plenty of times before, knew him to be a real scumbag, & that this particular scumbag was afraid of him. A few months ago, he'd noticed his good-for-nothing varmint ass following a woman walking alone at night and started following him back to spook him. He scared him off her trail pretty quickly, but he continued following him all the way back to his home, just for a taste of his own medicine.
"This world is the most unkind I’ve come to learn."
Normally Lucky didn't deal in thank-yous and other such pleasantries, but the half-elf's words about the cruelty of the world struck deep with him. It was something he knew all too well, something he'd seen all too well back in the Old Frontier.
"Yeah, this world's mean as a rattlesnake, ya got that right. It'd be a lot less mean if folks 'round here accepted that and started helping each other out a bit more, but yer more likely to catch a weasel asleep than that happening anytime soon. The name's Lucky. Thanks for the oil."
He began stumbling towards the front door, but not before turning around to tell her one more thing, "Swing by my hut if ya ever need to hire an extra sword by your side, just ask Gulda for the locatio- Oof!"
Not looking where he was going, Lucky slams face first into the armored back of the tall blonde guy conversating with a pair of tieflings, headbutting him in the back of the head. For the entire time he was looking for his lighter, these people were distracting him, and they continue to do so. "Move", he grumbles as he tries to budge past them, stepping over the vomit on the ground.
He briefly pauses to address the group.
"Man, do y'all love wobblin' jaw as loud as possible for the hell of it or what? Gods, I can barely hear myself fucking think."
He stumbles away without waiting for a response from any of them. He had waited too long. He needed that sweet, sweet tobacco. He was wayyyyy nicer to Lila than he normally is when he's desperately craving a smoke, and if he didn't get one NOW, his next conversation might not go so smoothly. On his way out, he noticed a dragonborn with a peculiar pistol holstered to his hip. Just the look of it made him emotional. He missed shooting guns, he missed it so dearly. That was exactly the last thing he needed to see today. "Mean as a rattlesnake..." He muttered to himself as he pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette.
Lucky lit his cigarette the moment he stepped outside the bar, not bothering to look who was there already. With his eyes closed, he took a long, long drag and thought about his brief conversation with Lila. "You know what? Maybe that bog-trotter's alright." He thinks to as he exhales into the air, inadvertently blowing smoke right into the Elven bard's face. Only now did Lucky open his eyes and take a look at his new company. Two faces he didn't recognize, and one he did. He decided only to address the one he did, waving at Edwina.
He/Him | 27 | Tabaxi | Grey Tabby | 73 Inches | 130 lbs | _______________________________________________ Ashamed _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Don't worry yer pretty little head off, I'm no stranger to roughin' it " ___________________________________
[Feline Agility] ⫻ As a Tabaxi, Lucky is incredibly quick and nimble by nature. He's a born master at running, jumping, and climbing. This pairs well with The Focus to make him quite talented at evasive maneuvering. [Gunsmith] ⫻ All gunfighters in the Winch Clan were taught how to construct, repair, and maintain firearms and ammunition, so Lucky has plenty of hands-on experience with Tinker's Tools [Frontiersman] ⫻ Lucky's no ranger, but a life of living in a harsh desert has given him the skills and know-how to generally live off the land and survive in the wilderness (Provided he has access to all his tools, that is). [Cat's Eyes] ⫻ As a sharpshooter, Lucky has impeccable eyesight. In bright light, he can see something from up to 2.5 miles away, and can make out details as far as 1.5 miles.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Well, shave my tail & call it a sausage!"
Lucky is a man who exudes a certain intensity to him. His bright yellow eyes stare daggers at everyone he encounters in a way that intimidates some and compels others to threaten him. His face seems to have a permanent frown etched on it, as if he's carrying some great pain. His dark grey fur is lined with a black tabby pattern, and it's often wildly unkempt. At 6'1 and 130 lbs, Lucky is a slim, gangly fellow, but you'd never tell that from looking at him. He typically wears a large poncho or long coat over a set of leather armor. This makes him look far bulkier than he actually is, which makes his agility surprising to opponents. He is never seen without his signature wide-brimmed hat and strange leather boots, remnants of his life in the Old Frontier. A red bandage is wrapped around his tail, covering up a hairless patch of scar tissue that's an unpleasant reminder of his past.
Rude, brash and outspoken, he speaks in a booming voice in a dialect that many residents of Greyharrow find unintelligible. Using seemingly nonsensical slang, similes and metaphors from his homeland.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don't cotton to ya. None of y'all. But we're all folks here, so I reckon we outta stick together."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Lucky's main goal in life is to live by the Winch family motto: Help folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. He feels tremendous guilt for welding a power he believes he has no right to possess, and using it for the betterment of others brings him some inner peace
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ We live in a cruel, uncaring, and unforgiving world. Suffering is rampant and even the most powerful and well meaning Gods are unable to stop even a fraction of it. The only way for things to ever get better is for us to band together and help each other to the best of our ability. In a cruel world, you can't do it alone.
SECRETS ⫻ Lucky is very secretive about his past as a bandit, as he's still rather ashamed of himself for it. The only one who knows that he once was one is Gulda, and even she doesn't know any details
SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual. He gave up on love a long time ago (although the right person might change his mind), but when trying to get laid, he seeks both men and women.
FEARS ⫻ Lucky fears himself more than anything else. He no longer trusts himself & believes that every good deed he does is in spite of his nature as a horrible person. He is incredibly distant, crass, and impolite to everybody because he's scared of letting people get to close to him. However, he always sticks up for someone who's being picked on, because he also fears complicity by being a bystander.
WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Lucky came to help as many people survive the harsh conditions of Greyharrow, as he knew it's an area with a lot of people in need. The absence of many firearms certainly helped the decision.
WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Most people generally try to avoid Lucky and only know him as "That crazy drunk mercenary who talks weird and always fights with Gulda". Their late night drunken brawls always draw a crowd and some residents have made a small fortune taking bets on the outcome. Despite these brawls, they're always drinking together the following night. Usually Gulda is in fact the only person who drinks with Lucky at the tavern. However, the few who have hired his services, or seen him stomping out a would-be mugger or rapist on one of his drunken stumbles back to his hut know that underneath his rude exterior is a core of genuine warmth and compassion.
EQUIPMENT ⫻ Lucky typically wears a set of leather armor underneath a coat or poncho, and fights with a cheap shortsword. He travels with an explorer's pack, a set of Tinker's tools, his hat, his boots, a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle, both with the barrels removed. These guns act as reminders of his past, and he refuses to repair them, as he no longer sees himself worthy of using a gun again.
FLAWS ⫻ Lucky is a heavy drinker and an even heavier smoker. His vices have a powerful grip on him, and every moment not spent drinking is usually spent smoking, rolling cigarettes, or craving a cigarette. He is also incredibly quick to anger at any situation he deems to be cruel, unfair, or not right, and if not physically held back, he will always try to intervene, even when doing so would be unwise. He also has incredibly low self-esteem from his inner guilt, and will lash out aggressively at even the slightest insult or rude remark.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "How did I end up here? Trust me, ya don't wanna know."
Lucky hails from a far away land that he refuses to speak the name of, only referring to it as "The Old Frontier". It was a harsh, desert environment of small, interconnected towns. Born Bartholomew Winch, he belonged to the venerated Winch Clan, a large nomadic family of Tabaxi gunfighters known for helping whoever they came across, living by the motto of "Helpin' folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. Lucky was a natural born sharpshooter and many thought he was destined to be the next head of the clan. However, he constantly butted heads with Clan elders, wanting them to be more confrontational in resisting the bankers and businessmen who made life hell for the average farmers and ranchers.
Then, in his teenage years, he met a bandit named Rain, and it was love at first sight. They ran away together and started a gang, pulling of small-scale jobs against caravans owned by the rich and powerful. Life was perfect. He got to use his skills more freely than he was when he had to take orders from the Winch elders, he was still taking on the oppressors of the poor, and he got to do it all with the love of his life. Then one day, he made the mistake of robbing the caravan of a banker with a previous grudge against the Winches. Furious, he gathered the largest posse the Frontier had ever seen to hunt down Bartholomew's gang, and when they did, it was a massacre. Lucky was the only survivor, and the last thing he saw before capture was his beloved dying from a gunshot in his arms, unable to do anything to save them. In jail, Lucky was devastated. He realized how selfish he was being. How little he actually cared about resisting those rich bastards. He was in it for the thrill, the fun. It spit in the face of everything the Winch Clan stood for, and he couldn't me more ashamed. The life he threw everything away for was gone in violent fashion, what was he going to do now? Eventually, he decided on an answer: Atone. With a newfound vigor for life, he took a new name, escaped and headed west, eventually finding himself in Faerun.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (slurred) "BRING IT THE FUCK ON! I'LL CLAW YA FUCKIN' EYES OUT, YA BIG GREEN VARMINT!"
Anyyyything else?
Fighter ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Ma always told me The Focus is a power for killin', and that killin' ain't some'n done lightly"
TYPE ⫻ Fighter (Gunslinger)
FIGHTING STYLE ⫻ Lucky relies on a power known as "The Focus". Nobody knows what it is or where it came from. But the Winch Clan has been using it to forge their legacy as formidable gunslingers for generations. When The Focus is activated, a Winch's eyes appear "glazed over like a dead fish" and their breathing is slow and methodical. The Focus can be applied passively or one can center their concentration on something specific to pull off trick shots.
Passive Application: Evasive Technique is the easiest and simplest application. When The Focus is active, and Lucky is not centering his concentration, he is slightly more attune to his surroundings, making it easier to predict enemy movements and take proper evasive maneuvers, which pairs incredibly well with his natural agility.
Active Application: Deadeye Shot Technique is the Winch Clan's signature ability. When The Focus is active and lucky is centering his concentration on a target, he can use The Focus to boost his accuracy and make seemingly impossible shots.
Active Application: Forceful Shot Technique requires Lucky to center his concentration on his hand's grip on the gun handle while The Focus is active, this increases the concussive force of the bullet, blowing a medium sized creature 15 feet away with a single shot.
CURRENT WEAPONS ⫻ Lucky has a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle from his life as a Winch gunfighter, but he has removed the barrels out of shame. Without it, he typically fights with a cheap swortsword and an even cheaper buckler.
TRAINING ⫻ Lucky has been shooting guns ever since he was old enough to hold one, so he's an expert sharpshooter. These skills don't translate as well to bows or crossbows, so he chooses not to use them. Winch fighters are also given rudimentary sword & buckler training, but it pales in comparison to a melee specialist.
LIMITS ⫻ As an ability primarily designed for gunfights, The Focus provides no offensive benefit in melee combat, and using it to dodge melee attacks is far more tiring than using it to dodge projectiles. The Focus also takes an incredible amount of energy to use, and long term passive application will leave Lucky exhausted. Lucky is also not very durable, and a small buckler is obviously not the best defensive weapon. Even when armed with a gun, Lucky is very much a glass cannon.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ When Lucky activates The Focus, his perception narrows. He sees exactly what he intends to see, and everything else becomes secondary. Thus, Lucky will struggle when dealing with state enemies who will flank and envelop him.
As well, when The Focus is active Lucky will find himself more susceptible to things that disrupt the physical aspects of the skill. A sudden, blinding light may hit Lucky twice as hard when be is in this state and concussive rounds or explosions could disrupt the slow, methodical breathing rhythm and push him out of this state.
Present day Interactions: Gulda, Lila, Ransom (Briefly), Cali (Briefly), Kel (Briefly) Outfit: Leather coat
Lucky cackled as the black-furred tabaxi slumped to the floor unconscious. He'd noticed the trick, seen it done plenty of times back in the Old Frontier. He was waiting to see if Gulda noticed it too, and obviously she did. In his eyes, she'd let him off damn easy. Cheating somebody in cards was the ultimate form of disrespect where he came from, and it would typically cost a man his life to try it. He took a look around the Inn. All the hustle & bustle, the drinking, and now a bar fight over cards? It was reminding him too much of the saloons of his past, and he hated thinking fondly on the past. He selfishly threw that life away years ago, he doesn't get to reminisce on the good times anymore.
"Dammit, I hate when I get so drunk that I start to remember." Lucky thought to himself. He needed a smoke. Pronto. He reached towards the table for his lighter, only to grasp thin air. "Oh yeah, the table" he muttered to himself. The lighter had flown across the room when she flipped it, the thing could be anywhere in this Gods-forsaken place. It was one of only mementos of his past that he decided to keep, and he refused to lose it over a bar fight he wasn't even in.
"He totally deserved that whoopin', but did'ya have to flip the whole table damn like that? Fuck, where's my lighter?" He grumbles to Gulda, drunkenly struggling out of his seat to search for it.
Lucky sways back and fourth as stands up. "Shit, I really had too much to drink." he mutters as he stumbles around the bar, shoving past anyone in his way. The longer he looked, the more desperate he got. The cravings for a smoke were getting stronger and stronger with every second. He needed to stop remembering. The longer he stayed in this room, the more he thought of the past. Memories of the family that he betrayed, the friends that he lost, his lover... They came like a tidal wave, and he couldn't take it anymore.
After several minutes of tracing every nook and cranny in the general direction of where the table flipped (and a few verbal altercations) he found it. Pushing past a pair of tieflings and a heavily armored blonde guy he noticed the signature bronze plating with "HELP FOLKS" crudely engraved by hand. It was his lighter, inconveniently placed underneath the seat of a tall half-elf with muddy clothes. "Move, that's my lighter." Lucky says, reaching under the seat to grab his prized possession.
He gave it a flick, just to take a brief glimpse of the flame. Doing that always calmed him down when he was stressed.
He flicked it again, again and again.
Nothing. He'd forgotten to refill it.
"Goddamnit!" Lucky yelled out, before pulling a coin out of his coat and handing it to the half-elf.
He/Him | 27 | Tabaxi | Grey Tabby | 73 Inches | 130 lbs | _______________________________________________ Ashamed _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Don't worry yer pretty little head off, I'm no stranger to roughin' it " ___________________________________
[Feline Agility] ⫻ As a Tabaxi, Lucky is incredibly quick and nimble by nature. He's a born master at running, jumping, and climbing. This pairs well with The Focus to make him quite talented at evasive maneuvering. [Gunsmith] ⫻ All gunfighters in the Winch Clan were taught how to construct, repair, and maintain firearms and ammunition, so Lucky has plenty of hands-on experience with Tinker's Tools [Frontiersman] ⫻ Lucky's no ranger, but a life of living in a harsh desert has given him the skills and know-how to generally live off the land and survive in the wilderness (Provided he has access to all his tools, that is).
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Well, shave my tail & call it a sausage!"
Lucky is a man who exudes a certain intensity to him. His bright yellow eyes stare daggers at everyone he encounters in a way that intimidates some and compels others to threaten him. His face seems to have a permanent frown etched on it, as if he's carrying some great pain. His dark grey fur is lined with a black tabby pattern, and it's often wildly unkempt. At 6'1 and 130 lbs, Lucky is a slim, gangly fellow, but you'd never tell that from looking at him. He typically wears a large poncho or long coat over a set of leather armor. This makes him look far bulkier than he actually is, which makes his agility surprising to opponents. He is never seen without his signature wide-brimmed hat and strange leather boots, remnants of his life in the Old Frontier. A red bandage is wrapped around his tail, covering up a hairless patch of scar tissue that's an unpleasant reminder of his past.
Rude, brash and outspoken, he speaks in a booming voice in a dialect that many residents of Greyharrow find unintelligible. Using seemingly nonsensical slang, similes and metaphors from his homeland.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don't cotton to ya. None of y'all. But we're all folks here, so I reckon we outta stick together."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Lucky's main goal in life is to live by the Winch family motto: Help folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. He feels tremendous guilt for welding a power he believes has no right to possess, and using it for the betterment of others brings him some inner peace
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ We live in a cruel, uncaring, and unforgiving world. Suffering is rampant and even the most powerful and well meaning Gods are unable to stop even a fraction of it. The only way for things to ever get better is for us to band together and help each other to the best of our ability. In a cruel world, you can't do it alone.
SECRETS ⫻ Lucky is very secretive about his past as a bandit, as he's still rather ashamed of himself for it. The only one who knows that he once was one is Gulda, and even she doesn't know any details
SEXUALITY ⫻ Bisexual. He gave up on love a long time ago (although the right person might change his mind), but when trying to get laid, he seeks both men and women.
FEARS ⫻ Lucky fears himself more than anything else. He no longer trusts himself & believes that every good deed he does is in spite of his nature as a horrible person. He is incredibly distant, crass, and impolite to everybody because he's scared of letting people get to close to him. However, he always sticks up for someone who's being picked on, because he also fears complicity by being a bystander.
WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW ⫻ Lucky came to help as many people survive the harsh conditions of Greyharrow, as he knew it's an area with a lot of people in need. The absence of many firearms certainly helped the decision.
WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM ⫻ Most people generally try to avoid Lucky and only know him as "That crazy drunk mercenary who talks weird and always fights with Gulda", and Their late night drunken brawls always draw a crowd and some residents have made a small fortune taking bets on the outcome. Despite these brawls, they're always drinking together the following night. Usually Gulda is in fact the only person who drinks with Lucky at the tavern. However, the few who have hired his services, or seen him stomping out a would-be mugger or rapist on one of his drunken stumbles back to his hut know that underneath his rude exterior is a core of genuine warmth and compassion.
EQUIPMENT ⫻ Lucky typically wears a set of leather armor underneath a coat or poncho, and fights with a cheap shortsword. He travels with an explorer's pack, a set of Tinker's tools, his hat, his boots, a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle, both with the barrels removed. These guns act as reminders of his past, and he refuses to repair them, as he no longer sees himself worthy of using a gun again.
FLAWS ⫻ Lucky is a heavy drinker and an even heavier smoker. His vices have a powerful grip on him, and every moment not spent drinking is usually spent smoking, rolling cigarettes, or craving a cigarette. He is also incredibly quick to anger at any situation he deems to be cruel, unfair, or not right, and if not physically held back, he will always try to intervene, even when doing so would be unwise. He also has incredibly low self-esteem from his inner guilt, and will lash out aggressively at even the slightest insult or rude remark.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "How did I end up here? Trust me, ya don't wanna know."
Lucky hails from a far away land that he refuses to speak the name of, only referring to it as "The Old Frontier". It was a harsh, desert environment of small, interconnected towns. Born Bartholomew Winch, he belonged to the venerated Winch Clan, a large nomadic family of Tabaxi gunfighters known for helping whoever they came across, living by the motto of "Helpin' folks wherever danger or oppression can be found. Lucky was a natural born sharpshooter and many thought he was destined to be the next head of the clan. However, he constantly butted heads with Clan elders, wanting them to be more confrontational in resisting the bankers and businessmen who made life hell for the average farmers and ranchers.
Then, in his teenage years, he met a bandit named Rain, and it was love at first sight. They ran away together and started a gang, pulling of small-scale jobs against caravans owned by the rich and powerful. Life was perfect. He got to use his skills more freely than he was when he had to take orders from the Winch elders, he was still taking on the oppressors of the poor, and he got to do it all with the love of his life. Then one day, he made the mistake of robbing the caravan of a banker with a previous grudge against the Winches. Furious, he gathered the largest posse the Frontier had ever seen to hunt down Bartholomew's gang, and when they did, it was a massacre. Lucky was the only survivor, and the last thing he saw before capture was his beloved dying from a gunshot in his arms, unable to do anything to save them. In jail, Lucky was devastated. He realized how selfish he was being. How little he actually cared about resisting those rich bastards. He was in it for the thrill, the fun. It spit in the face of everything the Winch Clan stood for, and he couldn't me more ashamed. The life he threw everything away for was gone in violent fashion, what was he going to do now? Eventually, he decided on an answer: Atone. With a newfound vigor for life, he took a new name, escaped and headed west, eventually finding himself in Faerun.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (slurred) "BRING IT THE FUCK ON! I'LL CLAW YA FUCKIN' EYES OUT, YA BIG GREEN VARMINT!"
Anyyyything else?
Fighter ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Ma always told me The Focus is a power for killin', and that killin' ain't some'n done lightly"
TYPE ⫻ Fighter (Gunslinger)
FIGHTING STYLE ⫻ Lucky relies on a power known as "The Focus". Nobody knows what it is or where it came from. But the Winch Clan has been using it to forge their legacy as formidable gunslingers for generations. When The Focus is activated, a Winch's eyes appear "glazed over like a dead fish" and their breathing is slow and methodical. The Focus can be applied passively or one can center their concentration on something specific to pull off trick shots.
Passive Application: Evasive Technique is the easiest and simplest application. When The Focus is active, and Lucky is not centering his concentration, he is slightly more attune to his surroundings, making it easier to predict enemy movements and take proper evasive maneuvers, which pairs incredibly well with his natural agility.
Active Application: Deadeye Shot Technique is the Winch Clan's signature ability. When The Focus is active and lucky is centering his concentration on a target, he can use The Focus to boost his accuracy and make seemingly impossible shots.
Active Application: Forceful Shot Technique requires Lucky to center his concentration on his hand's grip on the gun handle while The Focus is active, this increases the concussive force of the bullet, blowing a medium sized creature 15 feet away with a single shot.
CURRENT WEAPONS ⫻ Lucky has a 6-shot revolver and a repeating rifle from his life as a Winch gunfighter, but he was removed the barrels out of shame. Without it, he typically fights with a cheap swortsword and an even cheaper buckler.
TRAINING ⫻ Lucky has been shooting guns ever since he was old enough to hold one, so he's an expert sharpshooter. These skills don't translate as well to bows or crossbows, so he chooses not to use them. Winch fighters are also given rudimentary sword & buckler training, but it pales in comparison to a melee specialist.
LIMITS ⫻ As an ability primarily designed for gunfights, The Focus provides no offensive benefit in melee combat, and using it to dodge melee attacks is far more tiring than using it to dodge projectiles. The Focus also takes an incredible amount of energy to use, and long term passive application will leave Lucky exhausted. Lucky is also not very durable, and a small buckler is obviously not the best defensive weapon. Even when armed with a gun, Lucky is very much a glass cannon.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)
Member
Neziul
NoriWasHere
