Templar Knight

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

Name: Gideon Zanhast

Title: Captain

Moniker: The Ruinous Captain

Age: 38

Race: Human

Appearance:

Not a particularly flattering artist's depiction of the Ruinous Captain, but not necessarily one he'd disapprove of either.

Primary Attribute: Dangerous

Secondary Attribute: Shadowy

Connections:
-The Masters: Worthy Patrons and business partners, though most of my business with them is, or was, with Mr. Fires, and Mr. Irons. Have run odd jobs that likely benefited some of the others' schemes, knowing The Masters, but I wouldn't say I KNOW many of the others.
-Bohemians: Bunch of arrogant and pompous artists who've hardly worked a day of real work in their lives. Leave them to their poetry, plays, and paintings.
-Constables: They know me, whether I was on a Master's payroll or not they'd always look to come sniffing in my business. Sometimes we're able to reach a "mutual understanding", other times its a bit rougher. Now's one of those times with their Ministry of Public Decency.
-Criminals: The Cheery Man and his boys are old running mates and we get along famously, and all respect is given to the Gracious Widow. The Topsy King can join the Drownies for all I care.
-Hell: Half of the source of my moniker and a couple of my current working partnerships. The Urbane Devil and his Embassy pay a fine price for souls, and those willing to smuggle them in and out of London. Even visited the Iron Republic a few times, one of the strangest places in all the Neath, and like as not to drive a man mad, but exhilarating nonetheless.
-Revolutionaries: Foolish dreamers with dynamite, led by arrogant fools who name themselves after the months. But if they pay nicely, I wouldn't turn them down. Just don't expect to see me waving their banners out of faith.
-Rubbery Men: Seen a few in my time, always got along well enough with them. Stranger things than men with Octopi for heads.
-(High) Society: In their eyes, I wouldn't be fit to clean their boots, now. So unless one wants something exceptionally dirty done, they'd not see me, and certainly not in their Sunday best.
-Church: Bunch of old men and cloistered women in rags who don't know the true Gods that rule here, Salt, Stone, and Storm are the only Gods I know. And my associates in the Embassy don't really lend myself well to men of God, they're as like to curse me as a Sinner as I'm to knock them in the street for peddling their false religion.
-Docks: Wolfstack's my home, and always will be. More real of a place as you'll ever find in the Neath, the perfect place to find a bunch of lads either fearless or foolhardy enough to take on the Zee, and the same place to help one forget or fondly remember everything you see out there. Though the more respectable captains turn away when I come, all zailors know me by reputation, with equal parts respect and fear to my name.
-The Great Game: I know I'm a Pawn, and I don't rightly care. Let the Players play their game, I'll serve whoever gives me the best offer.
-The Tomb Colonies: Decent folk, regularly delivered many to Venderbight in my time. Many possess more wisdom than most of High Society in London, and its a good thing our Mayor's one of them.
-Urchins: They know not to touch me, lest they risk it be their last purse they try to grab with that hand. Not that I'm heartless, but more so that even I respect money earned rather than stolen or inherited. They stay out of my way, and I don't get in theirs.

Background:

A Zailor of London, Gideon escaped down into the Neath from a past he'd rather forget when he was 24. A physically capable and daring man, he took work aboard a ship named The "Victoria", while being named after her Imperial Majesty it was hardly so majestic, merely a cutter with faded hints of glory, but he took a bunk aboard and for years earned wages as zailor. Seeing both wonders and horrors in the Unterzee, coming face to face with death and madness around him on several occasions. One of which changed his fortunes for the better, though it was a harrowing process.

He had ascended to First Mate by this time at the age of 32, and it had been a long voyage out to the Carnelian Coast to then take a turn to the Isle of Cats when the ship was set upon by Rat-Barges out of Ratsey, pouring out of a bank of fog as cover. The small flotilla of resourceful rodents battered the Victoria with fire, with the Zailors exchanging salvos and ultimately winning the fight, but the ship being in bad shape, and and a quarter of the crew dead or dying from shrapnel and wounds, the Captain had been thrown clear from the ship, and no cries had rang out, leading Gideon and the remaining crew to believe him dead in the water. Half of the remaining men descended into panic, being out in the middle of the open Zee with no captain, a wounded vessel, and dead and dying men aboard. But Gideon stood firm, and after dispensing with one of the more panic-struck zailors by shooting the man dead and therefore stilling any more dissenters, he forced the remaining crew to their posts, and set about steering a safe way home.

By the time the ship arrived in Wolfstack Docks, the crew were a sullen and silent bunch, but many were alive, and gave curt thanks to Gideon for taking command and control of the situation. Now they could drown their fears in the pubs and relive them in nightmares, Gideon was left to his own affairs, and with nobody to contest his position, Gideon assumed ownership of the Victoria. Though the vessel was not worth his time to repair, he sold the ship and its parts in exchange for a new vessel, putting in a good chunk of his own savings he'd made over the years into a new Corvette, which he named "Jackdaw". For the last 6 years he's zailed the Unterzee, his dour countenance making as many friends as enemies, and made his name known for taking less than savory business offers for the right price, no questions asked and with more subtlety than the average brute. His reputation as a Captain is one of brutal fairness, you'd work to earn every echo you got, and obey his commands, but you'd hardly find a more honest Captain. Some say the Zee made as much a monster out of him as any that lurked beneath the waves, but he'd say that such moral busy-bodies would never be successful Zee-Captains, much less Zailors. The Zee is a unforgiving mistress, and one cannot be weak if they're to actually make a living on it.

Though in recent months, the Ruinous Captain has been stuck ashore, the Ministry of Public Decency taking an abnormally long time to investigate him on another trumped up case, and having impounded The Jackdaw, he's currently unable to return to the Zee. He's busied himself with odd-jobs around London, and was thus surprised to find an invitation to a particularly unusual Masquerade Ball. Normally he'd not even bother with such affairs, but the Masquerade did not seem to be the usual High Society affair, and the potential offer of a job tempted him to at least give it an ear.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

After he’d changed into his gear, strapped on his other pistols, and threw on his red cloak, Barris made one last move to open his chest and select on a decently sized coin-purse. His chest had been specially designed to act his own portable safe, essentially, and all of the Dwarf’s most valuable possessions were within it. It was also where he stored the raw components for his gunpowder, tools, and any items or fetishes he held dear.

Counting out a suitable stack of silver coins of a dozen different currencies, no need to stick out too much with gold, and a couple choice gems in a sapphire and emerald, he tied the small pouch off and stuffed it in his pocket. He grimaced at the chest afterwards, though not financially dire, it had been quite a while since Barris had actually added to his coffers. He hated whenever that happened, he liked seeing his piles of quantifiable fortune grow bigger, not shrink. His last job was supposed to do that, but instead he was now several months out with no material wealth of any kind coming in. He was lucky in that the Talon Company was paying his expenses, he’d regret having to pay for all of this himself.

Looking over his shoulder at the door in a paranoid habit, he shut the lid on his chest, locking it with a key he kept on his person, and resetting the position of the patterns on it to a random configuration. Even if one were to steal his key and chest, they wouldn’t open it in a hurry.

Barris then briskly walked out of his room, but not before remembering to grab his new badge on the way out. He stuffed it under his cloak, no need to show it off unless he felt it’d be useful, and no need to stick out like a stiff prick.

Giving a casual salute to Mira on the way out, the dwarf gunslinger threw on his hood and entered the muddy streets of Ardent’s Fall as his unlikely companions had done earlier, and headed off towards the Mercantile District.

Several blocks and a few winding paths took him right to the heart of it.

The markets weren’t as busy as they normally were, especially considering that the festival was just last night. Still, Barris could hear a cacophony of sounds ranging from hammer meeting steel to the loud shouts of various merchants peddling their wares. There was many a whisper to be heard for the perceptive ear. If Barris wasn’t mistaken he’d swear he’d heard one of the merchants proclaim to have one of Viceroy Cadby’s ears for sale. Lucky for him the guard patrol seemed to be stretched rather thin.

Throughout the marketplace are smells both inviting and horrendous. The livestock paraded about the square via farmers looking to sell their produce wasn’t helping. There was a particular melancholy that hung over the morning air. There was a thin cloud of smoke that hugged that same air just above the marketplace. The smells of burning wood accompanying the fog. Most of the townspeople seem fearful, but most also seem determined to hide it. One woman in particular, with a paranoid look about her face, just seems to be sweeping a rug over and over again in front of her homely shop.

Looming over the marketplace like its protector is the Temple of Cristo. The church itself is rather imposing given its more humble surroundings. The greyed bricks are stained with age, but carry with them an elegance one might expect of a noble estate. Banners hung about the various walls that made up the temple. The blue and gold banners were adorned with a sigil in the shape of a sun pierced by a spear. Barris would recognize this symbol as representation of Cristo. Officially, the religion of the dwarves of Viguard was that of the Stone Testament, but practically many dwarves were converted to The Faith of the Ten by human missionaries in the earlier years of the Owl Age. Outside of the church you see a priest, dressed in modest robes, having a rather animated conversation with a woman clad in silver armor.

((Barris is too far away to make out any of their conversation. ))

Barris, spied the temple past the anxious stalls and shops, and who he assumed his mark was outside it, because how many other women in shining armour would there be at the same temple he was looking for? He’d have to make sure she was elf, he supposed.

But first thing’s first, while Barris kept his eye on the temple and who he likely suspected his mark to be, he idly walked around the various stalls, tapping his fingers against the pocket where his purse was, pretending to browse various wares or entrances to shops, but really the dwarf was looking for one of the other main stains of major cities, street urchins. He’d not been in Ardent’s Fall long, but if this city was like any other in the world, he was willing to bet that there were more than a few kids or individuals down on their luck and looking to make some quick cash, on charity or otherwise, and he was in the market looking for at least one of such individuals before getting to his formal business. What better place to look for urchins then beside religious temples, or in the most likely place in a city for people with cash to spend to be hanging around a market? Barris had the complete package here.

Looking again to the church, Barris can see a group of petty beggars assembled under a makeshift tent across the small road. They appear to be asking random passers-by for coin. There is an older man, along with a few children and a dog huddled underneath the tent. Their body language doesn’t imply any particular closeness, and the elder doesn’t seem to resemble the children in any remarkable fashion.

Barris’ gestures instead caught the attention of a nearby vendor. “Hello, fine sir,may the [Stone] Mother bless you,” the merchant started. His curly black hair was tinged with grey as was his goatee. He had a pudgy face, but one that was clearly, at one point in his life, quite handsome. He had a small gut, but was mildly fit considering. His robes were foreign, and his accent was Dalic. “Might I interest you in my fine treasures? Many a great secrets lie hidden within my inventory, that’s the Mocenigo guarantee,” the merchant gestured to behind him. The stockpile of barrels and containers was masked by the shadows of the tent.

Barris, coming to a stop as to not look too out of place, and because he enjoyed a little banter, chose to humour the Merchant Mocenigo for a moment, turning to formally face him and his stall after making sure his mark was still where he left her.

“You got half a minute, Master Moncengio, after all, you’ve got a whole bazaar of competitors all vying for my money and time. What do you have over all of them that would most interest me?”

The merchant’s grin grew wider with a puckish maliciousness. “I have honesty, and an assortment of weapons and armor that might actually keep you alive. You’ll forgive for my presumptuous nature, but I noticed your stride. I can tell that you’re a mine of the future. You needn’t waste your time on petty merchants that offer you bows and swords.”

“Crafted, by the infamous Mar Vladwell Branchstock of Gnomish fame, is a rather explosive weapon to suit your needs.” The merchant reaches into a small trunk, as if routine, and brandishes before Barris a rather intricately designed pistol. “Don’t let it’s pretty design deceive you. This dragoon firearm is enchanted with the hardiest of magics. Its silver bullets leave a pretty corpse, and halt the hordes of undead that plague the fogs of Vicelles.” The merchant gestured Barris closer. “I’ve heard the fogs have breached Riverrun, and threaten to bring with it the terrors of that wretched country, here,” Moncenigo warned with hushed whispers. He backed away returning to a rather delighted demeanor.

“Branchstock drew the schematics for this beast of a weapon after falling in love with the beautiful Gabriella Driskell. You’d be quite the lucky man to possess such a firearm. I’m sure the gnome wouldn’t look too kindly on you, but this transaction will be our little secret.”

Barris raised his eyebrows as the Merchant peddled his story, while it was certainly a good pitch and he found it uncanny how he’d have guessed to play to his distaste for the undead, Barris was still skeptical. He’d been out of the loop on the firearm manufacture for a while, much less on the news out of Vicelles, so for all he knew it could be bullshit . . . but there was a way he knew to prove if the firearm at least was genuine, his old master Chartwick had taught him so.

The dwarf extended his hand to Moncengio.

“If I may? A firearms enthusiast such as myself aught to least gauge the function as much appearance of this piece. I assure you, I won’t bring the guard on your head with actually firing it.”

“Of course, good sir. Just be mindful of fingerprints. My reputation for diligence keeps the coin steady.” The merchant carefully removed the firearm from its casing. The wood was slick, and gleamed slightly in the morning sun, the silver plating served as the weapon’s decorative statement. “Silver is more precious to a Vicellian woman than a rose,” the merchant said as if marveling at his own product.

In Barris’ hands the gun felt sleek, and while there was a heaviness to it it felt more lightweight than most contemporary models.

The dwarf gunslinger tested his aim with the pistol, mimicking his usual movement for drawing and moving with it in his hand in slight motions, using the opportunity to turn and check on the temple entrance, after which he’d check the side of the gun for any kind of marks of identification. For Gnomes, like all proud craftsmen, loved to print their marks on their works of art. Whether singularly from Masters, or merely their Union marks, he knew enough to know that either a very clever forgery or the real deal would have one or the other upon it.

While there was no such branding on the weapon perhaps the more dire observation that Barris had made was that the woman was no longer standing at the Temple entrance. Instead, it was only the priest from before. Even from the distance Barris could read the discomfort on the priest’s face. One arm extended outward past the marketplace for a moment before the priest withdrew it in defeat.

“Oh,” the merchant fumbled. “I assume you’re looking for the brand of authenticity,” the merchant sighed to himself, not it nervousness, but rather in defeat. “I..have an explanation for that.” No doubt the story he’d meant to tell was long.

Barris sighed, he would have swore openly if he wasn’t trying to be a bit more subtle. He carefully placed the pistol back on the counter.

“Unfortunately I don’t have time for that at the moment. But hang on to that thought til later, I might stop back on my way when I actually have some. Hopefully it’ll be bereft of needless exaggeration too. Until later, perhaps, Master Moncengio.”

With that, the dwarf briskly walked away from the stall, not listening to anything else the merchant might say, straight for the Temple.

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

You guys open for newcomers? I may be interested in coming up with a sheet if that is the case.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

Barris had woken up in a cold sweat, that nightmare he saw, a little bit too clear to be merely a result of his drinking, and was one that didn't sit well with him since he had no headache indicative of a hangover either. The Dwarf was not a particularly religious sort, nor did he put much faith in dreams, but that didn't mean they couldn't make one uneasy, especially when whatever it was within it had known him, and spoke his doom.

He shook his head and stepped out of bed. Everything of his had been moved in neatly by the stable hands the previous day, and in his addled state he had removed his cloak, braces of pistols, and other equipment before slipping into bed. He was impressed with himself that he'd merely hung the braces on one of the hooks for coats and that they hadn't landed on the floor, the rest of his clothes weren't so lucky and were scattered around besides his simple shirt and trousers which he'd fallen asleep in. Mira had awoken him though, saying that he, and evidently everyone else he was working with, was expected downstairs in ten minutes. Finally he'd learn exactly what business the Talon Company sought him for, and he'd meet everyone else he'd be working with. He fondly recalled the Bard Raux from last night, and less fondly the vain noble warrior Lady Wolfram, but beyond that he knew little.

Making himself presentable, he didn't bother with putting on too much, merely fixing his shirt and pants, quickly combing out his hair and beard, and strapping on his two hip holsters to show he wasn't just some random Dwarf but their actual gunslinger, and opened his door to head downstairs.

As he walked down the main stairway, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around at the sparsely filled bar compared to yesterday. He muttered half to himself, half to anyone else listening.

"I don't suppose we're this empty on account of Mira running a bad breakfast."

He saw an Elf woman who matched the description of his supposed contact, sitting at a table set aside, and patiently awaiting him and the others, he walked over and leaned against one of the beams supporting the tavern.

"I'd ask you if you were Talis, but then what would the odds be of two different people having the same exact name and description? . . . Two beautiful city-born elvish sisters I suppose, or a doppelganger. Though I doubt either is the case here."

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

Barris Isengrim walked his faithful mule Victor through the crowded streets of Ardent's Fall, the Dwarf Gunslinger being in a state of mental contrition. For while the sights, smells, and overall jubilation of the Festival of Broken Conquerors were great enough to merely begin to approach the average day of controlled chaos within The Charred Republic, he was in no immediate mood to partake in the Festivities or even take much notice of much since he'd passed the city gates.

For Barris was here on business, particular business that perplexed him greatly. He had previously been tailing a mark he'd been assigned to from a client, a fellow who'd ratted out on his fellow gangsters with the Constabulary in Redcliffe. Unfortunately for the mark, at least one of his former compatriots had escaped to the Charred Republic and had set about seeking a hunter who'd be willing to exact vengeance on him, Barris being available, and not being particularly picky on jobs, had taken the job as the client offered a a fairly tidy sum in a pouch of rubies as reward.

It hadn't taken Barris long to find his target when he got to Redcliffe, though the city was vast, every active criminal knew where the mark was, what with the snitch having become a paranoid individual with city watchmen having a patrol guard his house and check all of his visitors. He waited for a week, in an inn down the street, watching his target's routines and tailing him when he could, and had thought of a few appropriate times to make his move. Unfortunately for Barris's plans, his mark threw a snag into them, as he overheard a conversation among watchmen entailing that they were to move the mark into protective custody, apparently someone had found out that he was a wanted man with hunters out to kill him.

Barris had no choice, he'd not wait however long the proceedings would go, or for the man's paranoia to finally break before getting the job done, and he wasn't going to drop a job and disgrace his name to his clients. So, he decided to be bold. A contingent of watchmen had come to escort the mark to their headquarters in Redcliffe, and Barris raced through the streets ahead of their route to cut them off, and stepping his way through the slightly crowded streets, waited for them to pass, his hand ready and guns loaded. The escort passed and within a moment faster than one could blink, a pistol cleared leather, a crack and flash like lightning and thunder, and with a smell of gunpowder filling the air, Barris shot between the guards, his shot catching his target in the chest, he didn't know if he even killed the man on the first shot but he didn't have time to check. Everyone on the street panicked, horses bucked riders off their mounts and general chaos ensued, but the trained and veteran Town Watch of Redcliffe moved with purpose, sounding the alarm and giving chase to the Dwarven hitman, who fired a couple more stray shots at the tailing Watch while bolting.

In his rush to get Victor and his belongings, he ran back to inn where he had been staying, only to find Watchmen there. The innkeep must have tipped them off this morning and suspected the Dwarf was up to no good. They surrounded Barris, who surrendered himself and was taken into custody. His charges were murder of a civilian, the attempted murder causing injury of 2 watchmen, inciting mass panic causing minor property damage, and criminal conspiracy to commit murder being the most notable charges. Combined all of which carried a hefty sentence, he wasn't executed. Barris' luck had run out, his impatience and greed had led him to take a job he probably should have dropped and had led to him making stupid mistakes.

He was resigned to almost pleading guilty and accepting a slightly lighter sentence, or even worse, offering the watch his entire savings as a massive bribe, but then something very strange happened. The officers released him, and the charges were dropped, with his belongings all returned to him and a sealed letter bearing the Talon Company's emblem was with them. Barris knew of the company by name, but knew actual little of their business or their interests, merely that they had a great deal of power within the world to get what they wished. Which in his case was evidently true if they were able to leverage his charges into being dropped. He felt immense relief but also curiosity as to why the Talon Company would do this, Barris wasn't ungrateful, but he was suspicious as to who specifically he was indebted to.

Regardless, the letter's content proved his suspicions that this was not out of charity, the Talon Company wanted him for a job in Ardent's Fall, with all expenses being covered by them, and for him to arrive on the 18th of Summerhill of this year. Though for what this job entailed, the letter was incredibly vague, and only seemed to imply that there would be others working alongside him, and that they were asked to enjoy the Festival of Broken Conquerors.

Knowing better than to cross people with the power to exert great influence over constabularies and Gods knew what else, Barris set out for Ardent's Fall as soon as he had been able. His client in The Charred Republic could wait, it would take too long for him to get to that underground paradise of libertines beneath High Mist from Redcliffe and get back to Ardent's Fall in time for the stated date. And he'd done the job anyway, if his client didn't have his payment ready for him or it had mysteriously vanished when he got back, he'd take it and more out of the bastard's cheating corpse, maybe his relatives too, that would depend on how pissed Barris was.

These were the thoughts going through Barris' head as he led Victor along the waterfront of Ardent's Fall to where they were supposed to meet and be staying: "The Wrangled Drunkard", a fairly impressive-looking inn by Barris's standards which looked to be fairly bustling within with all manner of drunkards, gamblers, and patrons of all kinds brought here by the port and Festival. His kind of place. Walking over to the stables adjoining the inn, he showed his letter to the stable-hand and asked that Vic be given a spot and looked after. The mule, loaded with luggage as he was, was led into the stables by the hands, while Barris walked through the front door of the inn, pulling back his hood and looking around at the liveliness of the place. Grinning beneath his red beard as he approached the bar and climbed up to a recently vacated stool. Not even interested in a drink yet so as getting off his feet from the long road.

He had no fucking clue as to what he was going to be asked to do, or who he was going to be working with but even he could admit that anything was better than his circumstances before this.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

Barris Isengrim

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Barris Isengrim

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Character Summary

Name:Barris Isengrim
Titles: None, or at least none he has any claim to anymore.
Aliases: N/A
Age: 64
Race/Ethnicty: Dwarf
Continent of Origin: Carthus
Gender: Male
Class/Subclass: Rogue, Gunslinger

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Stats

Strength: 11
Dexterity: 18
Constitution: 13
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 11

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Physical Attributes

Height: 4'7''
Weight: 120 lbs
Appearance Description: Short, stout but not particularly bulky in muscle or fat. With a fair-lengthed red beard, and short tied back red hair. He has steely grey eyes and slightly tanned skin.
Day To Day Attire: Hooded Red Cloak over leathers over a mail shirt and gambeson, linen trousers, heavy work boots.
Strengths:

• Marksmanship
• Endurance
• Iron Will

Weaknesses:

• Magic
• Greed
• Indulgence

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Psychological Attributes

Loyal * Driven * Libertine * Proud

Sexuality: Hetero
Relationship Status: Officially Single, with various relations throughout his travels but nothing serious.
Personality: Barris has a fairly carefree, yet also reserved attitude around most he meets. He doesn't care particularly what people do in their time, so long as he is left alone to do what he wants with his. Easily animated after a few drinks or a good game, he can talk someone's ear off with stories of his various exploits in many regards to any who care to hear, but only on his own terms. He has no patience for condescending or mightier-than-thou types who'd criticize him or his lifestyle choices, and can be quick to anger when pressed. Though his anger usually manifests in him threatening to blast someone's kneecap before they even realize what hit them before any of the typical Berserker-rage of his kind's fabled warriors.

To his friends and associates, he's loyal and dependable. And he's not comfortable leaving a job unfinished, if it takes him a month to track down a mark, so be it, he'd rather that than tarnish his own name or reputation for his business. To which end, he's particularly proud of his skills and track record, in his mind with good reason considering his abilities, though to those who don't know him it can come across as vain or brash.
Habits:

• Smoking
• Drinking

Hobbies: Gambling games, Barris is a big fan of games involving wagers, and has made it his goal to learn to play as many as he can. He's knowledgable in several varieties of card and dice games both of Dwarven and Human varieties.
Fears:

• Spheksophobia, or the fear of Wasps and getting stung by them.
• Cynophobia, or the fear of Dogs.
• Kinemortophobia, the fear of Zombies, the Undead, and being turned into one of them.

Likes:

• Precious Metals
• Precious Gems
• Drinking
• Gambling
• Women
• Shooting

Dislikes:

• High Elves
• Sorcerers
• Cheats
• Priests
• Bankers
• Dwarven Traditionalists

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Skills

• Skill:Forge Touched The Natural Ability of Dwarves to make them temporarily resistant to intense heat and non-fatal blows, a hand-over from their centuries-old lifestyles within their mountain empires.
• Skill:Quick-Draw A skilled gunslinger, Barris's reflexes with a gun are among the top tier within Carthus.
• Skill:Keen Eyes Barris has very good eyesight, both for far off and up close situations. Helps him spot quality items, imperfections in his weapons, and helps him hunt and track marks.
• Skill:Gunsmith Barris's specialty craft is in the creation and maintenance of firearms, and everything that goes with them, from bullets and gunpowder to weapon attachments.
• Skill:Ambidextrous As capable with a weapon or tool in one hand as he is in another.
• Skill:Mule-Riding Though its rare when Victor is not carrying Barris' luggage and is free for the Dwarf to ride, Barris has the skill to ride Mules and other similarly sized steeds.

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Possessions

Possessions Generally On Person:

• Item:Pack Mule A reliable and stout steed named Victor or Vic for short, usually carries Barris' luggage.
• Item:Puzzle-Trunk Most valuable item in Barris' possession, a Trunk with a specialty lock system design worked into the box's surface ensuring that even if one has the key, they'd need to expend more effort to open it. Barris keeps all his money and valued possessions (His weapon maintenance tools being the other major item of value) in here if they aren't literally on him. Made for financially paranoid people who don't trust banks.
• Item:Powder-Bag A dry-bag of leather designed to carry gunpowder and keep it dry even in the most wet conditions, short of opening the bag and dumping water in, of course. 5 lbs bag for bulk storage.
• Item:Pack of Spare clothes and furs Self-explanatory.
• Item:Camp Kit Small Iron pot, Flint, Hatchet. Basic tools for camp and fire-making,
• Item:Small Barrel Usually filled with water, rarely with alcohol.

Weapons:

• Item:Dirk Simple, small, and made of reliable and sturdy iron.
• Item:Brace of Pistols Six Dwarven-made Pistols, four holstered across his chest, and two at his hips. Short and simple to load with decent range and accuracy. Stamped with Barris' initials on the but of the guns.
• Item:Blunderbuss A long gun with a wide barrel, can be loaded with multiple shot or projectiles for a wide shot, effective within a few yards of the shooter or in a confined space.
• Item:Rifle Masterpiece of engineering, long gun with a narrow barrel, can be fitted with various attachments, designed for long-range shots when scoped and fitted, decent mid-range when not fitted.
• Item:Bola A short iron chain with two weights attached, designed to be thrown and trip fleeing individuals.
• Item:Mace A short one-handed mace designed for close-range bludgeoning.

Armor:

• Item:Chain mail Standard forged shirt of mail rings, designed to defend his torso against blades and arrows.
• Item:Pauldrons, Greaves, and shoulder guards Forged of iron, designed to protect his joints on his arms and legs.
• Item:Leather Jacket Worn over the mail, basically just provides extra padding and make his armour less conspicuous.
• Item:Gamebson Worn under the mail, more padding.
• Item:Heavy Leather Boots Complete with metal toes, built for forge-work.
• Item:Leather Studded Gloves Designed for work as much as practical.

Pack Contents:

• Item:Spare ammunition and powder horn A must for any travelling, Barris never leaves without spare bullets and powder.
• Item:Leather Waterskin Self-explanatory.
• Item:Length of rope with a hook or bolt attachment Always useful for a variety of situations even without the attachments.
• Item:Lantern Simply made, uses oil.
• Item:Spare food Varies depending on what is available, but usually it consists of stuff that won't rapidly rot. Hard bread, salted meats or jerky, and a few pieces of fruit or veg.
• Item:Map and Compass So that he never loses his way.

Magical Items:

• Item: N/A
• Item: N/A

Potions:

• Item:Minor Potion of Healing x3 Bought, low quality, but effective for dealing with minor injuries.
• Item: N/A
• Item: N/A
• Item: N/A
• Item: N/A

Creation Materials:

• Item: Sulfur (A large jar full, component of Gunpowder)
• Item: Saltpeter (A large jar full, component of Gunpowder)
• Item: Charcoal (Smaller jar full, component of Gunpowder)
• Item: Lead Chunks (For ball manufacture)
• Item: Small cast mould (For ball manufacture)
• Item: N/A

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History

History: Barris Isengrim was born in year 74 of the Age of Owls, to a lesser noble house within the Dwarven Empire of Viguard, with an illustrious line of warriors and craftsmen to its name and a fair estate in the city of Vyberg. Held in fair regard by Lord Magnate Vardin Theimer for their continued support of his efforts to unify the Dwarven Kingdoms of Carthus under his rulership from Viguard, the Isengrim family is one of decent political power, wealth, and standing within the Viguard imperial court and is a rising star of the houses, leading to competition among its own family members in an attempt attempt to out-do one another and earn the Emperor's favour, like all of the noble houses do to each other in turn.

A middling child, Barris often found himself getting the short end of the stick within his own house's political machinations and games among his siblings. Always in the shadow of his more senior siblings or relatives who'd made names for themselves as craftsmen, warriors, or scholars and never really feeling satisfied in his seemingly ordained role to be a third wheel to the house.

Thus, defying noble tradition and becoming the gossip of Vyberg for months afterwards, shortly after his 28th birthday, Barris submitted a request to the Imperial Registrar of Viguard, to be voluntarily disowned from all titles and family holdings of House Isengrim, and therefore annul any obligations he held to his House and family. Such an action was not unprecedented, but was usually the move criminals and social outcasts made to quietly slip away into obscurity, out of shame, and to cover the asses of the family heads who didn't want to have to deal with problem relatives. But Barris did it boldly and of his own free will, as a statement of defiance that he would make his own fortune and destiny rather than be bound and dictated by his family's interests, a family whom had shown him that they cared little for his own desires and more about their own social-political standings. In so doing, he stripped his relatives of any authority over him, he packed what savings and belongings he had obtained over his decades in the noble academies and odd jobs he'd worked under family artisans, and thus left the family estate in Vyberg with nary a backward glance, to the ire of his parents.

The Dwarf hopped around the Empire for several years, taking odd crafting and security jobs where he could, there was no shortage of need of extra hands for Masters were busying on an almost perpetual basis, if not crafting weapons to fight monsters within the tunnels or to guard the northern boundaries of the realm, then to wage petty wars or conflicts alongside various other powers, there was also always the ever-present threat of the Ostguardian Empire to their south making a push to take them by force . . . if they were to ever decide upon it in their committee meetings that made up their government. In time though, he grew tired of his own kind and after making some money, he traveled into Vicelle lands.

Under happy circumstance, he made his way into the company of a Gnome tinker named Chartwick. Being some of the best tinkerers and inventors to rival even Dwarven crafts, Gnomes had traditionally been either at odds or creative partners with Dwarves over the years given different situations. Both being travelers in lands foreign to them, kindred spirits of similar plights, and neither having any friends outside of their own kind, Barris made a deal with Chartwick, to be the Gnome's more intimidating muscle and travelling companion so that he would be free to conduct his work without much fear of persecution or robbery, and in exchange instead of a wage he would pay Barris in apprenticing him under the Gnomish science of Blackpowder inventions, a science which had intrigued Barris ever since his days in the academy of Vyberg. The two became traveling partners for 5 years as they putted around from town to town in Human and Dwarven lands selling all manner of Gnomish invention to those with the money to buy them, and Chartwick put his strict but fair instruction to bear upon the Dwarf apprentice.

Parting under amicable circumstances, Chartwick and Barris went their own separate ways after their time together, with Barris now skilled and knowledgeable in the arts and usage of various firearms and the creation of blackpowder and bullets. He had made pieces of his own, under his Gnomish Master's instruction of course, a fair brace of pistols and two different long guns, a prime project to graduate one from Apprenticeship which passed the Master's inspections. Armed with his knowledge and training, he went to seek work that would hone his skills further as a Gunslinger. Following rumours within Taverns among particularly shady individuals within Carthus territory, he descended along more sparsely traveled routes in the mountains, descending down into the depths of the world, to the place where all manner of criminals, Freeholders, thrill-seekers, and those seeking escape from ordered society for whatever reason founded beneath the roots of the world, The Charred Republic. Supposedly founded by some particularly industrious Tieflings who saw no fear in what they were and instead embraced how much of the world's people hated them, they had used their power to carve out a place where all of a similar candor could come and partake in the freedom to do as they wished and in time, many seeking escape and criminal delights came from all over the world, the only entry fee being that they find their way to it first.

Barris found his way there, and set himself up as a gun-for-hire. A rarity among the forlorn and often wretched individuals who made their way to these depths, few were skilled in the arts of gun-slinging, not to mention in making black powder. He spent many years taking marks from clients within The Charred Republic, chasing traitorous associates, cowardly debtors, and rivals of various individuals, and while he also took bounties above ground often too over the years, there were few places on Ithea that could give Barris what he craved that the place where all the refuse and unwanted of the world could congregate could not. And thus, such is how Barris has lived his life thus far, a relatively young Dwarf formerly of noble heritage, who cast it aside in the desire to make his own fortune out from the shadow of peers, and instead walking the line between criminal hitman and legitimate bounty hunter as a kind of quasi-mercenary. Mostly comes down to one's perspective as to which he is.

Could he have had an easier life? Perhaps, but he wouldn't trade the freedom he has to make his own fortunes and the people and places he's met and seen along the path towards that goal, for all the world.

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Extras

Character Quote: "Live life like there's no tomorrow, be true to yourself, and try not to leave any regrets. Take it from the Dwarf who shoots guns for a living: No matter which Gods you believe in, there's no guarantees you'll get a second shot at living."
Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcjZZIRRBNA&list=RDvcjZZIRRBNA "You Know My Name" cover by Poets of the Fall, originally by Chris Cornell for the film Casino Royale. (Cornell's is great but I prefer Poets' version's ending and overall style a bit more.)
Anything Else:

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

@Famotill Sure thing, and don't worry I have time, just not 24/7 sort of thing for the short interim.

And thx for the comments.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

@Famotill
NP, I'm popping in and out between work and funeral arrangements so my time is limited anyway atm. Wasn't in a rush for a response on my ends.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

K, I'm done. Ended up figuring out some neat crafting stuff to add too. Feel free to look it over, I took a few more liberties with the ending of his History in terms of lore, but feel free to let me know if you think I'm going too much off the deep end.

A Tale of Owls and Wolves

@Famotill K, I'll just finish writing up Barris' history, fill in the last little bits and I'll add him over.