Name: Rathlan Hardwyl
Species: Human (Terrisman)
Gender:[ Male
Age: 34
Metallic Abilities: Pewter/Steel Twinborn
Appearance: Rathlan has narrow grey eyes sitting above a prominent nose and a shadow of a beard on his chin. He has tanned skin, long legs and a solid, muscular chest. The Terrisman’s dark hair is very short and close to his scalp. He kept his head shaved for a long time, and is only now beginning to grow it back.
History: Rathlan Hardwyl grew up as a Pathian in a predominantly Terris neighbourhood in the Third Octant, and followed in his mother’s footsteps to Elendel’s university, where he studied for four years. He took a particular interest in history, and the last years of the World of Ash. Soon before his graduation, the young feruchemist was assisting on a project that used new technologies, such as the microscope, to examine relics from before the Final Ascension.
He was returning a group of coins to the Tindwyl Museum at the Field of Rebirth along with a friend and fellow student, Delan Brazek, when the pair was accosted by a group of street toughs who, seeing the ornate box that held the coins, assumed the contents must be extremely valuable. Rathlan attempted to explain otherwise and keep the relics from them, but this only provoked them more. When the pair tried to break free and run, Delan was shot in the back.
Overwhelmed at the sudden death of his friend, Rathlan snapped and came into his abilities as an allomancer and twinborn. Burning what little pewter he had in his system and then flakes scratched from the lamp he had been carrying, he felled his attackers and dragged them to the nearest precinct station. When the officer on duty heard his story, she attempted to recruit him on the spot. A few days of consideration later, he accepted and joined the Elendel Constabulary.
Over the next few years as a constable, he developed his skills as both an officer and a twinborn, and gained advancement due to his effectiveness against violent offenders. His true test, however, came when he accepted an assignment to go undercover and infiltrate the criminal crews of Eleldel’s underground. Under the assumed identity of Drazon the foundryman, he spent the next ten years undercover, feeding information back to the constables about the plans, identities and methods of his fellow gangsters. The work and lifestyle hardened him considerably, but he assured himself the danger and secrecy to be worthwhile, leading as it did to the protection of many vulnerable citizens. Most recently, his information and inside influence led to the complete collapse of three organised crime syndicates in one telling raid by the constabulary of the Sixth Octant.
With practically all of his underground contacts now imprisoned or aware of his betrayal in the final raid, Rathlan finally re-emerged from cover. He remained away from active duty for two months, taking time to rest up and recover physically and mentally from the long infiltration. Tekiel’s kidnapping and the 17th Squad is to be his first case back with the constabulary.
Personality: Gone is the idealistic history student who stammered at amateur robbers to give his coins back. In fact, the new man considers it a miracle that the old lived through that night. Necessity has made Rathlan far more practical and down to earth, making him a cautious man accustomed to keeping his friends close and his enemies closer. He is frank of speech and assured in action, valuing competence and doing things right the first time. He likes to keep himself occupied with some task or other, because when he slows down he sometimes wonders if his years in the gangs were really worth it. He had to compromise his morals to keep up his fake identity, and the Path teaches it adherents above all to do more good than harm. He wanted to keep to the right side of that line, but were there times when he crossed it?
Strengths: Rathlan is skilled in the use of his steelrunner and pewterarm abilities, and has a sound mind. He is accustomed to working under pressure and gives due consideration to his action, rarely acting rashly. Thanks to his university education, he has a broad base of knowledge, and has gained particular insight into criminal networks. He is an excellent liar.
Weaknesses: Rathlan has poor night vision and, after getting to close to an explosion, is partly deaf in one ear. He cannot swim.
Personal items: Rathlan’s time undercover taught him to be ready for danger at any moment, and that’s a lesson he hasn’t forgotten just because he left the streets. His weapons of choice are a pair of hardwood duelling canes, made extra thick to withstand his enhanced strength. On top of them he keep an obsidian dagger in each boot and a Heispel pistol on his hip.
A twinborn is nothing without his metals. Rathlan keeps a pair of steel bracers on each arm, piercing the skin to keep them from the influence of other allomancers. In addition, he keeps four vials of pewter on his person, each containing enough for a full hour’s burning, and replenishes them whenever possible.
Finally, Rathlan carries his constable’s badge, signifying his authority as a lawman, and a pen and paper for noting down important details.
Other: Even though Rathlan has been put into the 17th Squad as leading constable, he is not there to lead the group. His role is to advise on legal issues, lawkeeping policy and to lend his experience in dealing with criminals. He has been instructed to guide those who have less experience in law and order when they need it, but not to be authoritarian. After all, why bring together such brilliant people and then keep them on so a tight leash that they cannot work effectively?
Introduction: Sun was streaming in through the curtains when he awoke, and he didn’t immediately wonder what was wrong. It had been two months since he’d stopped sleeping in alleyways and darkened gang lairs, and for most of that time he had come to in a blast of awareness and flared metal in response to the unexpected illumination and unfamiliar surroundings.
The fact that this morning was different boded well, he thought. It meant that his time of relaxation and recovery was doing its job. He could adjust back to a reasonably normal life, or at least a less stressful one. He would be returning to the force soon, and the life of a twinborn constable could hardly be considered normal.
Stretching as he rose from the bed, Rathlan downed a vial of pewter. He may not have been setting an alarm these days, but he still had things to do. Top of that list this morning would be breakfast, and then his morning run.
Stepping out the door and locking it securely after himself, Rathlan turned away and jogged down the tree-lined Third Octant Street. When he reached the corner of his residential block, he took a deep breath and began filling his steelminds. It felt like hitting a wall. Instantly, his speed dropped, his muscles helt heavy and slow to respond to his commands. His run suddenly required the effort of wading through thick mud whilst he had the flu.
A moment later, all of that fell away as he burned pewter. Strength flooded back into his limbs, and they moved smoothly once again as he ran, just as fast as he had been going before. The two processes overlapped enough to roughly cancel one another out, and while the sensation of being both slowed down and empowered at once was a little odd, he had become used to it long ago. Using the two metals at once in this manner would allow him to gather a lot of speed in his metalminds for later use, and far more quickly than an ordinary steelrunner ferring ever could.
Rathlan nodded to other passers by as he moved towards the industrial district of the octant. The factories were in full swing by this hour, though the streets themselves had quieted since the early morning rush. The quiet was suddenly broken with a bang, a yell and the roar of an engine.
An unpainted automobile burst from a workshop door and screeched across the roadway, nearly colliding with the buildings on the other side as it turned in a wide arc and the driver wrestled the wheel for control.
“Out of my way!” screamed the woman behind the wheel as a pair of pedestrians dived for cover. “I’ve got no brakes!”
The car roared up the street, tires squealing in a cloud of black smoke as Rathlan stopped filling his metalminds and tapped speed. He had to catch that car before it plowed into something, or worse, someone. His feet became a blur as he chased after the swerving vehicle, but pewter let him keep his balance. The distance between them closed as the buildings to either side flashed by and the two of them came towards a bend in the road. Beyond that was a wide park with a small stream running through it.
Car and runner reached the bend together and crashed over the footpath, heading straight for a fig tree on the park’s border. Rathlan had to shove his shoulder hard into the front section to keep the car from smashing into its thick trunk. He grunted from the impact as he hit the metal, hard.
The automobile swayed heavily on its wheels as it made the dodge. Inside, the driver seemed to have given up on gaining control of the errant machine and was simply clinging on for dear life. The engine continued to cough smoke as it stubbornly refused to die. The car was slowing down slightly over the softer groud, but it wasn’t going to be enough. At this rate, it would still reach the stream, jump over the narrow depression and plow head on into the opposte bank. That would stop the car, but would surely be lethal for its occupant.
As the distance closed, Rathlan flared his pewter and shoved the car again while keeping abreast. It listed heavily to the side but then rocked back towards him. He hit it again after it swung back, getting a better effect this time. With the bank looming large, he pushed at the car a third time, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the door handle. With a shout of effort, they found it and he got a good lift, upending the vehicle and rolling it over onto its side. It skidded to a stop in the grass, its wheels still spinning in the air.
It had been a rough ride, certianly, but better than it might have been. Rathlan could only hope that the occupant had escaped. As he stepped up to the vehicle to see inside, the first thng he saw was that she had managed to protect her head, though the way her arms wrapped around it looked wrong.
She slid out of her seat with a groan, moving free of the crashed vehicle. As Rathlan moved to try to help, she sat up, and he saw her shoulder popped back into its socket, while her other arm straightened out. He caught a brief flash of gold under her sleeve.
“Thanks, mister” she coughed. “That was right good of you to show up when you did. Saved me a big bang-up.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive, miss” He answered, then, as his pulse rate lowerd and the metal flame within him was extinguished, he asked, “What happened?”.
Rathlan had seen these horeseless carriages before, and they seemed a fine enough idea, but seeing one go out of control like this was changing his mind on the new invention.
“The brakes locked up as I launched,” she replied. “It’s a new model, and an early test drive. I tried to kill the engine but that didn’t work, and in the process somehow I think I cracked the steering cable. Not pretty is it?” She winced. “That’s why they hire bloodmakers for the early testing. The money’s good, but sometimes I wish they put a bit more effort in first, you know?”
Rathlan did know. The new technologies sweeping Elendel could do many incredible things, but often, it seemed that the people involved in making them saw little of the benefits. Injuries were common, as were stolen wages, and desperation could push the expolited workers towards crime. He had seen it in the gangs. For all that the Basin was talked about as Harmony’s paradise for mankind, their society certainly wasn’t perfect.
***
Soon, Jann was brushing off her oil-stained overalls and putting one arm around Rathlan’s shoulders for him to help her back to the workshop Her healing power wasn’t infinite, and she was still limping a little. The crashed carriage, they left on its roof in the park. Other workmen would be back for it later, and Rathlan didn’t have the pewter to carry it all the way back on his own.
They were met halfway by a messenger girl, who scampered up to them in quite a rush. Rathlan assumed she had been sent to look for the vehicle.
“You’ll find the carriage in the park in the next block” He told her. “Aside from that, there was no damage or lasting injuries. Everything will be all right soon enough”
“I’m sure it will Sergeant Hardwyl Sir,” the girl replied, “But I didn’t come for no carriage. You’re wanted urgently at the station on Byrod Street, and when you weren’t at home I came searching. Th’ captain said he was sorry to cut your leave short, sir, but he said t’was important.”
“My apologies, then” Rathlan answered. “I’ll be in uniform and on my way as soon as I’m done helping here. You can expect me in the second octant in twenty minutes”.
The messenger didn’t reply to that, she just saluted and ran off.
***
Captain Guffon Trenchant was a large, round man with a bushy moustache, and he greeted Rathlan kindly as he came into the precinct office. Still, Rathlan could see how strained he was. As the precinct office’s front man, he was having to face a constant assult of press questions and angry nobility. Their latest conference had been not half an hour ago, to announce the 17th Squad’s formation.
“You can wait in here” he told Rathlan, showing him into a side room. “I’ll usher in the team as they arrive. It’s under a coppercloud and as soundproof as we could make it, so you’ll be free to discuss anything you like.”
Rathlan thanked him and moved into the mostly empty room, taking one of the chairs that were scattered around. This was going to be interesting.
Species: Human (Terrisman)
Gender:[ Male
Age: 34
Metallic Abilities: Pewter/Steel Twinborn
Appearance: Rathlan has narrow grey eyes sitting above a prominent nose and a shadow of a beard on his chin. He has tanned skin, long legs and a solid, muscular chest. The Terrisman’s dark hair is very short and close to his scalp. He kept his head shaved for a long time, and is only now beginning to grow it back.
History: Rathlan Hardwyl grew up as a Pathian in a predominantly Terris neighbourhood in the Third Octant, and followed in his mother’s footsteps to Elendel’s university, where he studied for four years. He took a particular interest in history, and the last years of the World of Ash. Soon before his graduation, the young feruchemist was assisting on a project that used new technologies, such as the microscope, to examine relics from before the Final Ascension.
He was returning a group of coins to the Tindwyl Museum at the Field of Rebirth along with a friend and fellow student, Delan Brazek, when the pair was accosted by a group of street toughs who, seeing the ornate box that held the coins, assumed the contents must be extremely valuable. Rathlan attempted to explain otherwise and keep the relics from them, but this only provoked them more. When the pair tried to break free and run, Delan was shot in the back.
Overwhelmed at the sudden death of his friend, Rathlan snapped and came into his abilities as an allomancer and twinborn. Burning what little pewter he had in his system and then flakes scratched from the lamp he had been carrying, he felled his attackers and dragged them to the nearest precinct station. When the officer on duty heard his story, she attempted to recruit him on the spot. A few days of consideration later, he accepted and joined the Elendel Constabulary.
Over the next few years as a constable, he developed his skills as both an officer and a twinborn, and gained advancement due to his effectiveness against violent offenders. His true test, however, came when he accepted an assignment to go undercover and infiltrate the criminal crews of Eleldel’s underground. Under the assumed identity of Drazon the foundryman, he spent the next ten years undercover, feeding information back to the constables about the plans, identities and methods of his fellow gangsters. The work and lifestyle hardened him considerably, but he assured himself the danger and secrecy to be worthwhile, leading as it did to the protection of many vulnerable citizens. Most recently, his information and inside influence led to the complete collapse of three organised crime syndicates in one telling raid by the constabulary of the Sixth Octant.
With practically all of his underground contacts now imprisoned or aware of his betrayal in the final raid, Rathlan finally re-emerged from cover. He remained away from active duty for two months, taking time to rest up and recover physically and mentally from the long infiltration. Tekiel’s kidnapping and the 17th Squad is to be his first case back with the constabulary.
Personality: Gone is the idealistic history student who stammered at amateur robbers to give his coins back. In fact, the new man considers it a miracle that the old lived through that night. Necessity has made Rathlan far more practical and down to earth, making him a cautious man accustomed to keeping his friends close and his enemies closer. He is frank of speech and assured in action, valuing competence and doing things right the first time. He likes to keep himself occupied with some task or other, because when he slows down he sometimes wonders if his years in the gangs were really worth it. He had to compromise his morals to keep up his fake identity, and the Path teaches it adherents above all to do more good than harm. He wanted to keep to the right side of that line, but were there times when he crossed it?
Strengths: Rathlan is skilled in the use of his steelrunner and pewterarm abilities, and has a sound mind. He is accustomed to working under pressure and gives due consideration to his action, rarely acting rashly. Thanks to his university education, he has a broad base of knowledge, and has gained particular insight into criminal networks. He is an excellent liar.
Weaknesses: Rathlan has poor night vision and, after getting to close to an explosion, is partly deaf in one ear. He cannot swim.
Personal items: Rathlan’s time undercover taught him to be ready for danger at any moment, and that’s a lesson he hasn’t forgotten just because he left the streets. His weapons of choice are a pair of hardwood duelling canes, made extra thick to withstand his enhanced strength. On top of them he keep an obsidian dagger in each boot and a Heispel pistol on his hip.
A twinborn is nothing without his metals. Rathlan keeps a pair of steel bracers on each arm, piercing the skin to keep them from the influence of other allomancers. In addition, he keeps four vials of pewter on his person, each containing enough for a full hour’s burning, and replenishes them whenever possible.
Finally, Rathlan carries his constable’s badge, signifying his authority as a lawman, and a pen and paper for noting down important details.
Other: Even though Rathlan has been put into the 17th Squad as leading constable, he is not there to lead the group. His role is to advise on legal issues, lawkeeping policy and to lend his experience in dealing with criminals. He has been instructed to guide those who have less experience in law and order when they need it, but not to be authoritarian. After all, why bring together such brilliant people and then keep them on so a tight leash that they cannot work effectively?
Introduction: Sun was streaming in through the curtains when he awoke, and he didn’t immediately wonder what was wrong. It had been two months since he’d stopped sleeping in alleyways and darkened gang lairs, and for most of that time he had come to in a blast of awareness and flared metal in response to the unexpected illumination and unfamiliar surroundings.
The fact that this morning was different boded well, he thought. It meant that his time of relaxation and recovery was doing its job. He could adjust back to a reasonably normal life, or at least a less stressful one. He would be returning to the force soon, and the life of a twinborn constable could hardly be considered normal.
Stretching as he rose from the bed, Rathlan downed a vial of pewter. He may not have been setting an alarm these days, but he still had things to do. Top of that list this morning would be breakfast, and then his morning run.
Stepping out the door and locking it securely after himself, Rathlan turned away and jogged down the tree-lined Third Octant Street. When he reached the corner of his residential block, he took a deep breath and began filling his steelminds. It felt like hitting a wall. Instantly, his speed dropped, his muscles helt heavy and slow to respond to his commands. His run suddenly required the effort of wading through thick mud whilst he had the flu.
A moment later, all of that fell away as he burned pewter. Strength flooded back into his limbs, and they moved smoothly once again as he ran, just as fast as he had been going before. The two processes overlapped enough to roughly cancel one another out, and while the sensation of being both slowed down and empowered at once was a little odd, he had become used to it long ago. Using the two metals at once in this manner would allow him to gather a lot of speed in his metalminds for later use, and far more quickly than an ordinary steelrunner ferring ever could.
Rathlan nodded to other passers by as he moved towards the industrial district of the octant. The factories were in full swing by this hour, though the streets themselves had quieted since the early morning rush. The quiet was suddenly broken with a bang, a yell and the roar of an engine.
An unpainted automobile burst from a workshop door and screeched across the roadway, nearly colliding with the buildings on the other side as it turned in a wide arc and the driver wrestled the wheel for control.
“Out of my way!” screamed the woman behind the wheel as a pair of pedestrians dived for cover. “I’ve got no brakes!”
The car roared up the street, tires squealing in a cloud of black smoke as Rathlan stopped filling his metalminds and tapped speed. He had to catch that car before it plowed into something, or worse, someone. His feet became a blur as he chased after the swerving vehicle, but pewter let him keep his balance. The distance between them closed as the buildings to either side flashed by and the two of them came towards a bend in the road. Beyond that was a wide park with a small stream running through it.
Car and runner reached the bend together and crashed over the footpath, heading straight for a fig tree on the park’s border. Rathlan had to shove his shoulder hard into the front section to keep the car from smashing into its thick trunk. He grunted from the impact as he hit the metal, hard.
The automobile swayed heavily on its wheels as it made the dodge. Inside, the driver seemed to have given up on gaining control of the errant machine and was simply clinging on for dear life. The engine continued to cough smoke as it stubbornly refused to die. The car was slowing down slightly over the softer groud, but it wasn’t going to be enough. At this rate, it would still reach the stream, jump over the narrow depression and plow head on into the opposte bank. That would stop the car, but would surely be lethal for its occupant.
As the distance closed, Rathlan flared his pewter and shoved the car again while keeping abreast. It listed heavily to the side but then rocked back towards him. He hit it again after it swung back, getting a better effect this time. With the bank looming large, he pushed at the car a third time, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the door handle. With a shout of effort, they found it and he got a good lift, upending the vehicle and rolling it over onto its side. It skidded to a stop in the grass, its wheels still spinning in the air.
It had been a rough ride, certianly, but better than it might have been. Rathlan could only hope that the occupant had escaped. As he stepped up to the vehicle to see inside, the first thng he saw was that she had managed to protect her head, though the way her arms wrapped around it looked wrong.
She slid out of her seat with a groan, moving free of the crashed vehicle. As Rathlan moved to try to help, she sat up, and he saw her shoulder popped back into its socket, while her other arm straightened out. He caught a brief flash of gold under her sleeve.
“Thanks, mister” she coughed. “That was right good of you to show up when you did. Saved me a big bang-up.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive, miss” He answered, then, as his pulse rate lowerd and the metal flame within him was extinguished, he asked, “What happened?”.
Rathlan had seen these horeseless carriages before, and they seemed a fine enough idea, but seeing one go out of control like this was changing his mind on the new invention.
“The brakes locked up as I launched,” she replied. “It’s a new model, and an early test drive. I tried to kill the engine but that didn’t work, and in the process somehow I think I cracked the steering cable. Not pretty is it?” She winced. “That’s why they hire bloodmakers for the early testing. The money’s good, but sometimes I wish they put a bit more effort in first, you know?”
Rathlan did know. The new technologies sweeping Elendel could do many incredible things, but often, it seemed that the people involved in making them saw little of the benefits. Injuries were common, as were stolen wages, and desperation could push the expolited workers towards crime. He had seen it in the gangs. For all that the Basin was talked about as Harmony’s paradise for mankind, their society certainly wasn’t perfect.
***
Soon, Jann was brushing off her oil-stained overalls and putting one arm around Rathlan’s shoulders for him to help her back to the workshop Her healing power wasn’t infinite, and she was still limping a little. The crashed carriage, they left on its roof in the park. Other workmen would be back for it later, and Rathlan didn’t have the pewter to carry it all the way back on his own.
They were met halfway by a messenger girl, who scampered up to them in quite a rush. Rathlan assumed she had been sent to look for the vehicle.
“You’ll find the carriage in the park in the next block” He told her. “Aside from that, there was no damage or lasting injuries. Everything will be all right soon enough”
“I’m sure it will Sergeant Hardwyl Sir,” the girl replied, “But I didn’t come for no carriage. You’re wanted urgently at the station on Byrod Street, and when you weren’t at home I came searching. Th’ captain said he was sorry to cut your leave short, sir, but he said t’was important.”
“My apologies, then” Rathlan answered. “I’ll be in uniform and on my way as soon as I’m done helping here. You can expect me in the second octant in twenty minutes”.
The messenger didn’t reply to that, she just saluted and ran off.
***
Captain Guffon Trenchant was a large, round man with a bushy moustache, and he greeted Rathlan kindly as he came into the precinct office. Still, Rathlan could see how strained he was. As the precinct office’s front man, he was having to face a constant assult of press questions and angry nobility. Their latest conference had been not half an hour ago, to announce the 17th Squad’s formation.
“You can wait in here” he told Rathlan, showing him into a side room. “I’ll usher in the team as they arrive. It’s under a coppercloud and as soundproof as we could make it, so you’ll be free to discuss anything you like.”
Rathlan thanked him and moved into the mostly empty room, taking one of the chairs that were scattered around. This was going to be interesting.