Name: Father Giles McNamara

Physical Attributes: Tall, well-built and with his age only just beginning to catch up to him, Father McNamara looks good for his age of 52. His hair still holds much of its original black colour, although streaks of grey have begun to come in, already shading his beard a soft silver. Both the hair on his head and on his face are neatly trimmed, and age has begun to leave a few kindly wrinkles on him.

That being said, the garb he clads himself in does not always inspire comfort and welcome feelings. The good Father typically wears the livery of a Church Investigator, a position once feared throughout Perafidion and still now seen with no small amount of respect. The wide brimmed hat, heavy overcoat and numerous holy symbols that dangle down from his persons extend his profile and give him a far more intimidating body shape than his undressed form would reveal, and a growl perfected over decades of work only adds to the ensemble.

Mental Attributes: Father McNamara lives an inherent duality. On the one hand, his role as a cleric requires him to be kind, gentle and merciful, whilst his role as an investigator often requires him to be harsh and brutish. In a way, he represents the two aspects of the Light- both warm and comforting as well as harsh and scalding. McNamara is also surprisingly mentally quick, with good reactions and a history of making decisions in difficult times. Although fully capable of working alone, he can also form a solid bedrock for any team to be built around.

History: The church is well-familiar with youths that wish to turn their life around. McNamara was one such individual when he was younger. Rough around the edges, falling in with the wrong crowds and likely to end up serving time in jail, a religious epiphany when he was 17 brought him to the Church. Cleaning up his act, he became a confirmed cleric quickly, and served in his local chapel dutifully for several years before finally being approached by an elder investigator who was looking for a fellow clerical apprentice in order to take up his mantle.

He learned quickly- the time of his youth proving itself well-suited to exploring grittier and seedier locales, and quickly became qualified as a full investigator. Although in modern times, the role of church investigators is far less important thanks to the rise of more military-aligned policemen and detectives, they are still highly important in uncovering potential cult activities, as well as investigating more mundane cases that have occurred in sanctified areas.

The decades have passed however, and now he finds himself in the position of his old teacher- looking for a younger cleric to mentor and teach through the ways of an investigator, although his aim in heading to Temnorpool was thanks to reports about cult activities around the dockyards (which are well known for being hotbeds of heretical activities thanks to their tendency to gather ne'er-do-wells in one area.)

Abilities:
Vitality: 5. Once a sprightly and energetic young man, his growing age has sapped him of his vitality somewhat now that he approaches his twilight years. That being said,he can still keep pace with men many years younger than him thanks to his rather physical occupation.

Strength: 5. He was quite the strongman in his younger years, and swinging around heavy weapons hasn't instructed his body to lose the muscles any time soon. Not to mention the great pistol he carries requires no small amount of strength to simply fire the darned thing.

Finesse: 3. Not a particularly agile figure to begin with, Father McNamara should not be relied upon for stealth or tricks involving slight of hand... Beyond perhaps plucking a coin from a child's ear.

Perception: 6. A church investigator must be able to divine even the smallest of details when investigating crime scenes. Whilst perhaps not quite as eagle-eyed as some, his brain is well-tuned to fine details and out-of-place icons.

Intelligence: 6. His upbringing might have been rough, but the church offers excellent educational opportunities, especially to their investigators. Even now as an old dog, McNamara is still learning new tricks all the time.

Wisdom: 9. Father McNamara's true expertise in an investigation is interrogation. He can keenly intuit if people are telling the truth or now, and his younger days left him with no small number of street-smarts to begin with.

Faith: 10. Little needs to be said here. Father McNamara has spent decades in the church, and his faith in both himself and the light is near-absolute.

Occult: 6. Investigating heresy is a large part of McNamara's job. Although his expertise lies firmly in recognition and removal, rather than hexes and curses, you can bet that he knows his stuff.

Equipment:
Axe: 1 Point. Although the good father once had a superior melee weapon, it was lost shortly before his journey to Temnnorpool. Whilst a perfectly functional axe, it is overly heavy and cumbersome, having been designed to hack through wood, not people.

Blessed Pistol: 4 Points. A double-barrelled breechloading pistol designed to swiftly put down most threats a frontline cleric might encounter. The pistol requires training on how to properly hold it so that its recoil doesn't shatter the bones of the wielder, but once mastered is a potent threat against the darkness.

Reinforced Clothing: 2 points. The wear of an investigator is quite unique. A heavy coat, wide-brimmed hat and an underlying layer of padded cloth. Although by no means as protective as metal, it serves excellently for deflecting away knifes, clubs or other improvised weapons.

Name: Paula "the Huntress" Creek

Physical Attributes: Paula is an abnormally short woman who stands somewhere around 140cm tall, her appearance dominated by her heavy clothes that leave very little if any of her skin visible. Her coat clinks slightly if she ever moves at a pace faster than brisk walk with all her tools and reagents set within the limited space, and even her face is covered by a beaked mask, more for appearances than function's sake. Yet having that wet sponge filter the breathing air in times it is required comes in handy. The colour scheme of her clothing is dark greens and browns, the latter mostly being tanned leather for handling hazardous substances, or her one bandolier. Her voice suggests her age to be somewhere just under thirty years.

Mental Attributes: Paula is a rather morose character, not easily impressed by others and especially not expecting anyone to really be able to pull their weight until proven differently. She also has little patience for those who get in the way of her plans or set others in danger by reckless action. Getting on her good side is a chore, and getting her trust even more so. But she will do her part to the betterment of the group, since there is power in numbers and despite not really expecting others to look out for her, she can't take it on her conscience to do that to another.

History: Sometimes, you just hear a rumour. An insistent one, you know one of the kind. You hear it once, and then you notice yourself hearing it everywhere. Whispers about the sort of thing spoken by those who believe, the same words in billowing laugh by those that don't. Paula wasn't one for spreading these, but she certainly always appreciated when the knowledge came all the way to her. Directly, even. For there had been someone who had specifically come to her with a request. A request that would lead the Huntress to her next challenge, that on board of the train that had now stopped abruptly.

But let us not dash too far forward. Why would anyone, much less the wife of a well known merchant approach a monster hunter with as unconvincing an appearance as Ms. Creek? Well, one would be pleased to know that Paula had had her opportunity to make a name for herself earlier, her arrival a few weeks back having been marked by not only one but two smaller extermination jobs. And so with the resounding successes under her belt, she made for a promising candidate. She would be out there to look after the task giver's husband, wouldn't she? Of course she would. Coin was coin, and she needed the thing to supply herself.

And so on this choice journey, the rumours that had been whispered had proven themselves true. Not the first time they had. The weapon was soon readied and defensive positions taken. Whatever was to come, it would do so eventually. Trains weren't stopped for a laugh, not even by mysterious presences that nobody quite understood the origin of.

Abilities:

• Vitality: 3 - Paula seems somewhat sickly, but it is difficult to judge from her grey eyes seen through the lenses alone what the issue might be.
• Strength: 2 - Not of the muscular sort and not really having the mass to leverage, Paula does not deal well with situations requiring pure physical brawn.
• Finesse: 10 - Quick feet and diminutive size come with certain advantages. In this case, fitting through places and staying out of trouble.
• Perception: 4 - The amount of gear with her at all times has forced Paula to adapt with her senses, heightening them somewhat to counteract the issue, but overcompensation has not brought her to great lengths.
• Intelligence: 10 - If there is another thing that keeps the Huntress working over dying miserably in a ditch, it is her wit. She employs a plethora of tools for each task at hand, and finds that human ingenuity can indeed stand up to the horrors that stalk these woods.
• Wisdom: 6 - It takes a real numb nut to not learn from past forays in a trade such as hers. Each mistake comes with a lesson. And she has collected a fair few not only of her own.
• Faith: 7 - Paula's faith may not necessarily be to that of the might of the Light, but the ability of herself and those that might fight on her side. Mostly herself. Someone's got to pull this job, or nobody will.
• Occult: 8 - All part of the job. Someone out there hunting for the things that go bump in the night for a living has these things on a need-to-know basis, lest they would be dead before someone got around to asking if they know things.

Equipment:

• ^{Tier 1} Flashpowder grenades - Cylinders filled with magnesium powder and a fuse. With a burst of heat and a bright flash, these self-made weapons disorient the opposition for long enough for the Huntress to gain the upper hand… as long as they rely on eyesight and happen to be looking at where the weapon was thrown.
• ^{Tier 1} Smoke grenades - Cylinders fitted with a fuse built to burn long and create a cloud of obscuring somewhat opaque smoke, for disturbing the flow of battle.
• ^{Tier 2} Combat gas grenades - Glass containers filled with chemicals that react in a volatile manner with air on strong impact, creating a cloud of coloured smoke that causes irritation in exposed skin, eyes, nose, and especially airways. Mainly made for attacking an opponent's respiratory system.
• ^{Tier 1} Ratting piece - There are more reliable firearms out there than this little grapeshot. As its name implies, the weapon is more useful for hunting rats and birds than actual threats, but it delivers a nasty sting and even wounds stronger creatures just enough for the Huntress to try and regain her foothold in the fight. Kicks like a bastard, though.
• ^{Tier 1} A particularly long knife - If it has just one edge to it, it is not a sword. Ask any lawyer. Hers simply happens to be long enough to pass for a sword on the short side rather than a dagger.
• ^{Tier 1} Padded armour - Her thick coat, cloth padded hood and the assorted leather pieces of her get-up offer a small amount of protection while allowing her quick feet and small stature to handle the rest.
• ^Non-weapon Field surgery kit - A set of tools typical of a 19th century surgeon.
• ^Non-weapon First aid supplies - Bandages, rubbing alcohol, a faint memory of the more common antidotes to poisoning.
• ^Non-weapon A round, shallow metal container - Paula does not speak of its contents. It looks to be faintly yellow, judging by the stains on the outside.

Name: Weiland Yvain

Physical Attributes:
Weiland is a man in his mid thirties, at least that would be what demeanor and appearance give, he stands at roughly 177cm in height. Red hair is muted and subdued, with an impressive mustache that naturally meets and combines with muttonchops on each side of his sunken face. His attire is that of a city guardsman, repurposed for supporting early attempts at policing by the nobles that spearheaded the efforts. A worn, broken in cloak of faded blue adorn his shoulders, while yellow patches, long faded by constant exposure, function to break up the brown of his gambeson. This gambeson reaches down to just above his knees, covering the beginning of where well mended trousers and sturdy, broken in boots wrap up a functional attire, repurposed from what was once worn by a guard.

Mental Attributes:
Weiland is a man of his word, for better or worse. Once an oath is given or word promised, he will do his level best to see said oath or promise fulfilled or carried out. Not much of one for deceit or treachery, often times he is simply taken at face value, a washed up soldier or guard seeking freelance work after some unspoken failure. Upon engaging him, one can find him fairly polite, and easy to get along with, though this changes harshly in trouble. Attempting to rally those around him, he goes to meet the problem the best way possible, even if it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, showing a pragmatism hard learned. Add in reluctance to speak on his past, with surprisingly acute attention to details and even slight shifts in his companions demeanor, he can unwittingly bring attention on himself.

History:
Born to a soldier's dalliance, Weiland was raised in his father's stead, to take up sword and shield for the good of a kingdom. Spending his days practicing with wooden blade and oak shield while other children would be studying or playing, it prepared him well for a clash of steel and skill on a field of battle. Such a thing never came, however, and as he was old enough to be sworn into the army, he found himself patrolling roads and protecting towns from bandits, and the odd thing he was told to not discuss. All the better, such things he'd rather not remember, given their unpleasant nature and the men the things would claim. Yet his belief in the strength of Men would be forged in such early years, seeing how faith and steel won in the face of long odds indeed, at least by his standards.

When his mid twenties arrived, Weiland had been in command of a handful of his own men, a Sergeant leading his men on patrols, boasting unusual success in countering ambushes and tracking down bandits and criminals. While using the army for such things remained unpopular, some nobles petitioned that those skilled in these activities be tasked with acting as lawmen for their city. Weiland and his men were picked, and despite his misgivings, he followed the calling. The nobility and most powerful of merchants expected to simply buy the loyalty of these recently unemployed soldiers, lining their pockets while an inadequate stipend for official duties would leave them with no choice. Weiland refused to accept such arrangements, employing that wit and awareness in evading attempts to remove the troublesome lawman, while being popular with the common man, as he played no favorites. A noble was as guilty as a peasant, and this would be problematic indeed. But even if he couldn't be bought, his superiors could be.

The right palms were greased, and Weiland was formally dismissed from the army, rather abruptly as well, though it was not officially stated as a matter of disgrace. His men had been long since bought, and some might have been stubborn enough to try and stick around. Weiland was no fool, and could see the writing on the wall, and made himself scarce. He still had to make ends meet, however, and turned to selling his sword. It was not an easy living, but one that would lead him to being on the ill fated train that would be hurtling towards its doom, simply looking for the next source of income to continue making ends meet.

Abilities:

Vitality: 8 - Sturdy in frame, and well built on that frame as well, one cannot expect Weiland to knuckle down and fail from physical strain or illness easily.
Strength: 7 - Being sturdily built only covers half of his soldiering career, being able to strike hard and make the blows count, while weathering the counter strikes, is classic technique.
Finesse: 3 - Swordplay requires some level of finesse, which Weiland has had to learn, though he is not well suited to the more elegant and focused styles, relying on strength and sturdiness of his weapon.
Perception: 10 - Going from constant patrols in woods, outskirts around cities, to marching through city streets, watching for even a hint of trouble, Weiland could never risk missing an out of place shadow, sudden lack of wildlife, or odd aroma, lest it risk his life.
Intelligence: 3 - Being a soldier first, academics were not a priority, and outside of a typical education for a career soldier's son, one cannot expect much in this from Weiland.
Wisdom: 10 - Hard earned understanding coupled with a natural "gut instinct", Weiland has long since learned to trust his guts. Be it concern, or confidence, he has proven fortunate in picking out lies and deceit alongside trouble and hidden things.
Faith: 7 - Weiland has a strong belief in his capabilities, and his ability to weather a storm, and while his actual belief in the Light is dubious at times, his own conviction and belief in the strength of Man drives him to hold his ground when others would flee.
Occult: 2 - Much of Weiland's career has been opposed to his fellow man, figuratively speaking, as well as tracking down criminals and the odd cultist that got wrapped up in their activities. He can recognize the occult, but understanding is another story completely.

Equipment:

Arming Sword (Level 2): A sword he was able to retain ownership of, it's construction hints at better times, though by now, lack of dedicated forge or smith has taken its toll. The first several inches of blade from the hilt are of note, the design bearing the hints of noble purpose lost.

Heater Shield (Level 2): Much like his blade, though there is evidence a coat of arms once graced its face, this has long since been stricken and left with the plain metal construction apparent. Well made, at one point, though suffering from a similar fate as his sword.

Gambeson and Mail (Level 3): A soldier's uniform, first repurposed to upholding the law, and then after that to that of a sword for hire, it has seen the most effort in retaining its qualities, as without a means of protection, what good is a fine sword? The gambeson itself is sturdy and well kept, providing ample protection against typical blunt impacts or a sharp knife, while the mail coat hidden underneath to help as a last ditch line against a slash that makes it through the gambeson.

Name: Maurice Messler of Mitrowitz

Physical Attributes: Maurice is well known amongst his peers for his strength, and his appearance certainly does not hide that. While not the tallest fellow around, he still stands somewhat taller than your average person, although Maurice is known more for thickness of limbs rather than height; it is quite common amongst his acquaintances to liken him to a bear or a trunk of wood, often as a compliment and derision at the same time. With thick, shoulder length wavy black hair, a large, bony face, a lazy eye and unevenly tanned skin, he doesn't have the look of a city gentleman, although his blue eyes, clean shave and prominent lips bring a fairly graceful nuance to his look. His clothing is somewhat outdated, with a large hat with upturned brims covering his head, and a blue cloak, dotted with rather large stars and an anthropomorphized sun, draped over a thick and coarse white buffcoat with many buttons covering his body. Around his waist, Maurice wears an orange sash as a symbol of his former position, and hanging from his neck is a large amulet that doubles as a censer containing soothing incense.

Mental Attributes: Maurice is a rather cheerful fellow, although perhaps a rather boisterous one, thanks to a tendency to see the world, and act, in extremes. While not the sharpest tool in the shed, he's fairly receptive to learning by experience, and his presence usually helps others bear experiences more positively, thanks to his uplifting demeanor and presence. He's not exactly what someone would call people-savvy; although he is aware of this and usually puts just enough distance between him and others he's recently met to stay away from possible danger, he's still not very good at reading intentions clearly. Despite this, Maurice is fairly intelligent when it comes to mechanics and mathematics. Being a visual learner, he may have problems visualizing people's intentions, but he certainly has no trouble with levers, gears and estimates.

History: Maurice never had the makings of a great man. Born the third child out of eight to a family of carpenters in the city of Mitrowitz, he had to support the large family somehow. To do that, he was either going to become a cobbler, like his eldest brother, a carpenter, like his father and elder brother, or a soldier. The decision he made at a fairly young age; having seen the royal guard of the Count of Mitrowitz at parade, with their colorful flags, extravagant uniforms, steady marching rhythm and eye-catching cannons, he immediately realized that he wanted to be a part of this marvelous contraption. And he did; thanks to his constitution he was quickly accepted into the army, and although at first an infantryman, he quickly became fascinated with the 'big boom', as he called it, and managed to show enough smarts and eagerness in digging to be accepted into the gunnery corps.

And boy oh boy, was it fun.

His cheery demeanor and diligence to duty made Maurice a popular fellow in the gunnery corps. Although he reached his glass ceiling quick, for the path beyond was either for the nobility or for the gifted, he was content with his rank that he was stuck in, for he was now at the head of a cannon battery, and the big boom was now all his. His position gave him authority, and that authority meant that his subordinates couldn't question him as he tinkered with the cannon, and the spare materials laying around, to make more cannon-like things. Unfortunately for Maurice, firearms had long been discovered, and his creations ended up as little more than gimmicks for personal entertainment.

Even more unfortunate was the result of his last experiment, to attach a rifled choke to the cannon's muzzle, in hopes of increasing its accuracy. When his invention exploded, killing one of his troops, crippling another and permanently damaging his own right eye, Maurice found himself quickly expelled from the army; he did not protest, feeling rightfully guilty for the death of his assistant gunner. He decided to atone for his sins in the Church, although his obsession with the 'big boom' never faded. Caught building makeshift cannons from organ pieces, he was relegated to a line of work where his skills and hobbies would be of more use to the Church of Light.

Abilities:

• Vitality 8 - As the son of a carpenter, it's only fitting that Maurice is built like an oak.
• Strength 10 - Maurice is a big guy. A fairly big guy, for your consideration.
• Finesse 8 - People tend to underestimate how quick Maurice can act.
• Perception 4 - With a lazy eye and mediocre wit, it's no surprise that he can't pick up on subtler things.
• Intelligence 5 - Smart enough to figure out how things work. Just not smart enough to make it better.
• Wisdom 4 - While Maurice has a strong gut instinct, he doesn't have much more on top of that.
• Faith 7 - A simple mind makes for a strong believer.
• Occult 4 - "Well, if we can't simply blow it up, can't we just blow it up with holy water?"

Equipment:

5 Points - Big Boom: Built jointly by a weaponsmith, a gunsmith and Maurice himself, the Big Boom is a hefty combination weapon, consisting of a large, two handed warpick with eight integral gun barrels all pointing towards the tip of the business end. Designed to end the fight in one loud and messy hit by piercing deep into the foe with its spike, and then emptying its complete load of eight rounds into the pierced spot, the Big Boom is frankly a somewhat impractical weapon, seen as more of a gimmick unique to Maurice; yet despite its gimmicky nature, there are few things on earth that can doubt its effectiveness when it lands a proper hit.

2 Points - Lightbringer's Attire: While the cloak draped over Maurice's shoulders make him look dressed like a priest thanks to its celestial pattern, the coat he wears underneath is made of thick, treated buff leather, which provides a surprising amount of defense for its unassuming look.

No Points - Censer Amulet: Engraved with prayers and religious imagery and filled with slow burning coals and herbs said to be effective against impurity, the Censer Amulet somewhat prominently hangs down Maurice's neck, bringing with him a faint, soothing scent wherever he goes. The scent, according to the Church elders, makes for a fairly important defense against things not of this world.

Name: Ivan Sokolov

Physical Attributes: Ivan is a tall, thin man with a lazy way about him, almost mad in a way. He’s a pale gentleman, covered in an array of tattoos, most gang affiliated- his most notable being the Ace of Spades and King of Hearts tattooed on his neck- and scars from stabbing and even bullet wounds. His one dark green eye holds a sinister sort of intelligence that belays the carefree smile he wears everywhere. Ivan prefers being clean shaven, and entirely bald, he’s cagey as to why. Ivan is fond of darkly colored button down shirts and simple dress pants, he’s not big on flashy, or gaudy clothing.

Mental Attributes: “Stare into the abyss long enough and the abyss stares back.” Where once an ambitious, truly focused man existed, now a shade exists, driven, vengeful, a mad jester. Ivan is utterly focused on his goal to eradicate any monsters that slink into the light, grinning all the while. He enjoys killing the things that lie beyond the light with such a zeal, he has often been compared to the things he hunts so fervently. Ivan’s mind is a steel trap, seeing everything and everyone as a puzzle to be unraveled, solved. Blunt is another word for this grinning madman, as he doesn't sugar coat anything.

History: Ivan appeared one day in Perafidion’s capital and began cutting his way through the many gangs. He built up a ruthless reputation and gathered a crew of the blood thirstiest thugs and thieves he could find. Once he had the city’s underbelly under his heel he turned his sights on the aristocracy. He gained momentum, showed himself as more than a thug as he could match wits with his so called betters. In time he enacted a plan that would see the aristocracy choking on its own blood. The night his plans were to come to fruition, something from beyond the Light stole his victory from him. He woke up days later in a chapel, his chest wrapped in bandages and his left eye a ruin. He lapsed into silence. He let the Sisters heal and feed him but he remained silent until one day he simply bega cackling which devolved into a black rage. He shouted frothing at the mouth of how his prize was stolen from him. It got so bad he had to be restrained by the chapel’s Father Donovan, forcefully. For hours he raved before lapsing into unconsciousness. The following weeks the good Father tried to lead the broken man back from the brink, back into the Light. Ivan appeared to take to the scriptures in time, and was even allowed to be unrestrained.

Father Donovan saw a light return to the man’s eyes but it wasn’t redemption, it was rebellion in that lone eye, ruin and rebellion. But even the calamitous flame produced Light so the Father approached him with an offer. Learn to combat the monsters that had broken him, fight for the Light, truly embrace the scriptures he considered mere words. Ivan agreed in time and ook to learning the faith with gusto. For years he trained under Father Donovan, developing skill in putting down monsters with the use of newly acquired skills thanks to the church. He became quite good with pistols but it was the long range, scoped rifles he excelled at using. Monsters and eldritch things never saw him coming.

Abilities

•Vitality: 2. Madmen aren’t too keen on caring for themselves.

•Strength: 5. Ivan’s thin frame belies some strength.

•Finesse: 7. Being among thieves and assassins has its perks as you pick up useful skills, mostly out of necessity.

•Perception: 10. Ivan’s training under Father Donovan sharpened his senses to an extreme.

•Intelligence: 6. Strategy and wit, while dulled some by Ivan’s madness are still rather keen.

•Wisdom: 4. He has street smarts in spades but gives in too much to his wild emotions.

•Faith: 8. Ivan is utterly convinced he is that his a nightmare to any that dwell beyond the Light’s reach; the faith of a zealot.

•Occult: 8. He’s stared into the abyss enough to know it stares back.

Equipment:

Retribution: Tier 5. A masterwork scoped rifle and Ivan’s personal firearm. This rifle is high powered meant for serious long range fire, and stealthy assassination. Though devastating, Vengeance is a single shot breech loaded rifle but can punch through metal plate with ease.

Flintlock pistol: Tier 2. Old, and well worn this single shot pistol is mostly meant to offer Ivan time to cover his escape as it can’t cause any real damage unless up close and personal. Takes forever to load.

Cloth shirt and pants: Ivan puts his mobility above protection as his thin layer of clothing offers him dexterity armor simply doesn’t.

Name: Oswald Chamberlain

Physical Attributes: Oswald Chamberlain is a 49-year-old man of the law. He stands roughly six feet and one inch tall, with a head of short, neatly kept black hair with a bit of grey creeping in around the fringe and the sides and back of his head. He has a mostly gruff-looking face, with a full, graying beard covering his jaw. His physique is that of a well-fit man that's gained some years, muscled but with a bit of flab creeping around his middle. The Temnorapool Constabulary's uniform is a navy blue coat, with the logo of the constabulary emblazoned on the left breast. Paired with the coat are a pair of navy blue pants, and black boots.

Mental Attributes: Senior Constable Chamberlain is a straightforward man. His mind is that of a seeker of justice, devoted in his pursuit of the truth and an honest, trustworthy man. When first meeting Chamberlain, he is amiable and friendly, helpful to those who need help. He is loyal to the Constabulary and to his friends, of which he has a few, both in the police and out. Outside of work, to those who know him, he is a shade different than the image he puts out to the general public; stoic, soft-spoken and thoughtful. Weary with the world and a long time spent in the service, the thing he wishes for the most nowadays is rest. He smokes and drinks, not irresponsibly, and often spends his time off-duty alone if he isn't invited out for a night of drinks with friends.

History: Oswald is a policeman. An old policeman. As a senior constable of the Temnorapool Constabulary, Oswald has seen his fair share of crime, misfortune, malice and corruption in his city. He was born to a poor family in the lower districts of the city, but found his interest in law enforcement from an early age, after getting stolen from one too many times and being powerless to do anything about thieves. As a young man, he originally found work in the city's docks, hauling freight and building up his body's strength. From there, it was all a matter of talking to a local constable out on patrol about an opportunity to join up with the Constabulary.

He started his police life at the bottom of the ladder, as a regular patrolman wandering the city streets by day or at night with a partner by his side, usually a more experienced constable. Together they would find crime where they could, most often a common thief or a beating. They would take the offenders into custody and escort any victims to a local hospital for treatment, or back to their police station for questioning and due processing. This carried on for some years until Oswald earned himself a promotion. From a low ranking constable to a sergeant, Oswald went from patrolling the streets to assisting in criminal investigations of a higher sort. Breaking and entering, kidnaps, to dealing with threats made on local businesses or quarrels at the docks between workers that escalated into brawls. Oswald took every investigation, every case, in his stride, and proved himself of his second promotion to inspector in due time.

It is here that Oswald stands today. A senior inspector of the Temnorapool Constabulary. Often in charge of investigating cases with a team of constables and inspectors in his care, Oswald is a leader to his men, but a firm friend and a father to the younger constables who often look up to him as inspiration. His hair is greying from the stresses of his police life, but he has made some good, long-standing friends and, in the years since joining the police force, found love. Married and with two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. He enjoys and looks forward to going home to see them every day, his place of residence still in the same district that he lived in as a child. His past not forgotten, he still upholds his family's name as the reason why he went into law enforcement.

Abilities:

• Vitality: 6 - Oswald isn't in the perfect shape of health, but for his age group, he's as fit as fit can be.
• Strength: 7 - The brute strength of police work has only partially left Oswald's body, but he can still break down doors without much fuss.
• Finesse: 5 - Being a big, strong policeman doesn't give Oswald much in the way of being dainty or careful.
• Perception: 8 - Years spent in his line of work have given him a very keen eye for his surroundings, assisting other detectives or policemen in securing crime scenes, figuring out where people are hiding or looking for evidence.
• Intelligence: 6 - The years have dulled Oswald's senses, not considerably, but grey hair is more than enough to conceal a sizable wit.
• Wisdom: 8 - Police work lends a lot to a person's talents; being able to read people and situations, as well as knowing when people are lying or concealing information from him.
• Faith: 8 - Oswald is a faithful man; Temnorapool has its fair share of churches, and because of his age and relative rank within the constabulary, he is still able to attend mass once a week with his family.
• Occult: 2 - Oswald has no firm belief in the occult. Well, he knows that it exists, through whispers and rumblings within the ranks of the police. But he is highly doubtful of its actual relevance in the city, or its effects on people.

Equipment:

• Truncheon (Tier 2) - A typically standard make Temnorapool police truncheon; made out of a sturdy oak wood and reinforced with a wrapping of cloth around the grip to provide friction in a policeman's hands. Just above the grip is Temnorapool's coat of arms, engraved in a light silver that stands out against the dark brown of the truncheon's painted wood body.
• Service Pistol (Tier 3) - Being a senior police officer of the Temnorapool police, Oswald is entitled to one of the force's few flintlock pocket pistols. A smaller version of a regular flintlock pistol, with a shortened barrel, tucked away into a pocket on the inside of his coat. There's only a few of those in the constabulary's armoury, issued only in case of emergencies.
• Pencil and Notebook - A generic pencil and leather-bound notebook, full of notes on past cases, with about a third of the book still empty.
• Whistle - A standard issue police whistle, tarnished slightly but still usable.