Name: Trajan Clarendon " T.C. " Bywater
Title: Warlock under the Patronage of Mammon, Demon Lord of Greed
Height: 34" ( He will tell you 3 feet)
Weight: 40lbs
Age: Adult
Race: Halfling, Hobbit, Weefolk. Burrower
Tier: Medium- Street smart and able to hold his one in a bar fight, Spell casting abilities heightened by his Patron Mammon. He has not yet realized the full potential of these powers, either by his own discovery or Mammon's reluctance to granting him more power.
Appearance:
Puggish features snarl, past a toothpick. Black hair, marred with strips of white, is slicked back into a pompadour. Finely dressed in Halfling garb in shades of Black and Crimson[/img] Red. Gold rings shine on his pinkies while a gold chain hangs loosely on his hairy chest. The large bare feet of the weefolk kick rocks along his path. On his shoulder rests a cudgel, oiled to gleaming shine.
Personality: " Listen here, you door frame knocking, waste of space. You can keep the short jokes in that cesspool you call a mouth! Ive heard them all and you are not original. TC looks out for number one, and that's TC! My sweet mother told me "When everyone towers over you, no one is gonna look out for you." For shits sake, nothing pisses me off more than when you vertically blessed fucks treat us little people like dirt. Ecetopia is a dangerous place, and you can only survive by playing to your strengths. I have a few gifts, ya know, though they may not be, martial in nature. I use my brain and my tongue to take what I want from you witless fucks. Usually what I want is coin, taken from the occasional sucker. Call me a con-man, I don't care. I was a con-man for a long time, till I met The Greedfather, Mammon, and he made me a wise-guy. Now get out of my face before I use my strengths and set ya kneecaps on fire, you slack jawed, goony prick"
Talents: Well practiced Con-man specializing in fixed games (cards, dice, chess). With this he is also proficient in sleight of hand.
Powers: Warlock powers granted by Mammon.
Eldritch Blast: A fist sized ball of crackling demonic energy streaks toward a creature within throwing distance. Hits like a pro boxer's right hook.
Curses: If TC can see an attack coming and whispers a curse before it hits, flames will ignite on his opponent dealing an equal blow. TC can also focus on a person and string a utterance of profanities that curses them with misfortune. One small bit of unluckiness will come their way before nightfall or before sunrise.
Suggestion: TC can utter one word commands that may coerce the week minded. Words like Sit, Give, Flee, Approach, Grovel, Halt and Drop
Charm Person: TC can focus some of Mammons magic into his words causing the weak minded or distracted to see TC as trustworthy, treating him as they would a close friend.
Minor Illusions: TC can create temporary sounds or 3 dimensional images no bigger then a cow. The images are incorporeal yet appear solid, they produce no sound or smell or light. The sounds can be a faint whisper or a loud roar.He can even mimic people's voices.
Items: Carries all his possessions with him from town to town. Deborah- his oiled baseball bat like Cudgel. Trick dice, trick playing cards, chess set. Sleeping roll, Dagger, a few gold rings and a gold necklace, coin purse.
History: TC moved out of halfling lands at a young age. His single mother was forced to find work in the nearby city as a seamstress, she still works there today, even in her old age. TC visits, when he can, to bring gifts. Constantly getting in trouble, and hanging with the wrong crowd, TC learned his street smarts. Among the ruffians and thieves, he learned to con, trick and hustle all the richer marks. In adulthood, he gained a decent reputation that forced him to travel more, in search of more prey. His favorite con was hustling rigged games. Chess, cards, dice and street corner games of luck gave him a decent living.
One humid day, while travelling on an ageless trade route, he met a man sitting at a crossroads. This rotund gentleman was dressed in lavish attire not suitable for the heat and was sweating profusely, dabbing his brow with a sickly pink silk handkerchief. TC smiled at idea of an easy con, and began to speak with the man. He learned that he had been travelling the other direction, away from TC's destination, running from gambling debts. This made TC salivate, he could tell this man was an addict. TC challenged him to a game of chess, to cool down in the shade. The man happily obliged, he even wagered some coin, TC didn't even have to push.
But while they played, time seemed to lose meaning. Before he knew it, the sky had grown much darker, and the man seemed larger then before. Eventually TC's king was toppled. He felt like he had been sitting for ages, parched with thirst and growling with hunger. That is when the man revealed his true form. He was Mammon, Demon Lord of Greed. Pleased with his abilities, he offered him a job. Mammon offered TC Bywater a portion of his power, the title of Warlock and all its blessings. He could use those powers as he pleased, till such a time when Mammon needed a servant on the Material Plane. He told TC that a much larger chess game was being assembled and he was to be a pawn on the board, with opportunities for promotion. TC leapt at the chance, and shook hands with Mammon. The sun came back and the demon was gone, all that was left was a golden ring on TC's pinky finger. Since that day, Trajan Clarendon Bywater has been loving life as a wise-guy of Mammon. Still conning and conniving, but braver now with his new palette of demonic spells.
Title: Warlock under the Patronage of Mammon, Demon Lord of Greed
Height: 34" ( He will tell you 3 feet)
Weight: 40lbs
Age: Adult
Race: Halfling, Hobbit, Weefolk. Burrower
Tier: Medium- Street smart and able to hold his one in a bar fight, Spell casting abilities heightened by his Patron Mammon. He has not yet realized the full potential of these powers, either by his own discovery or Mammon's reluctance to granting him more power.
Appearance:
Puggish features snarl, past a toothpick. Black hair, marred with strips of white, is slicked back into a pompadour. Finely dressed in Halfling garb in shades of Black and Crimson[/img] Red. Gold rings shine on his pinkies while a gold chain hangs loosely on his hairy chest. The large bare feet of the weefolk kick rocks along his path. On his shoulder rests a cudgel, oiled to gleaming shine.
Personality: " Listen here, you door frame knocking, waste of space. You can keep the short jokes in that cesspool you call a mouth! Ive heard them all and you are not original. TC looks out for number one, and that's TC! My sweet mother told me "When everyone towers over you, no one is gonna look out for you." For shits sake, nothing pisses me off more than when you vertically blessed fucks treat us little people like dirt. Ecetopia is a dangerous place, and you can only survive by playing to your strengths. I have a few gifts, ya know, though they may not be, martial in nature. I use my brain and my tongue to take what I want from you witless fucks. Usually what I want is coin, taken from the occasional sucker. Call me a con-man, I don't care. I was a con-man for a long time, till I met The Greedfather, Mammon, and he made me a wise-guy. Now get out of my face before I use my strengths and set ya kneecaps on fire, you slack jawed, goony prick"
Talents: Well practiced Con-man specializing in fixed games (cards, dice, chess). With this he is also proficient in sleight of hand.
Powers: Warlock powers granted by Mammon.
Eldritch Blast: A fist sized ball of crackling demonic energy streaks toward a creature within throwing distance. Hits like a pro boxer's right hook.
Curses: If TC can see an attack coming and whispers a curse before it hits, flames will ignite on his opponent dealing an equal blow. TC can also focus on a person and string a utterance of profanities that curses them with misfortune. One small bit of unluckiness will come their way before nightfall or before sunrise.
Suggestion: TC can utter one word commands that may coerce the week minded. Words like Sit, Give, Flee, Approach, Grovel, Halt and Drop
Charm Person: TC can focus some of Mammons magic into his words causing the weak minded or distracted to see TC as trustworthy, treating him as they would a close friend.
Minor Illusions: TC can create temporary sounds or 3 dimensional images no bigger then a cow. The images are incorporeal yet appear solid, they produce no sound or smell or light. The sounds can be a faint whisper or a loud roar.He can even mimic people's voices.
Items: Carries all his possessions with him from town to town. Deborah- his oiled baseball bat like Cudgel. Trick dice, trick playing cards, chess set. Sleeping roll, Dagger, a few gold rings and a gold necklace, coin purse.
History: TC moved out of halfling lands at a young age. His single mother was forced to find work in the nearby city as a seamstress, she still works there today, even in her old age. TC visits, when he can, to bring gifts. Constantly getting in trouble, and hanging with the wrong crowd, TC learned his street smarts. Among the ruffians and thieves, he learned to con, trick and hustle all the richer marks. In adulthood, he gained a decent reputation that forced him to travel more, in search of more prey. His favorite con was hustling rigged games. Chess, cards, dice and street corner games of luck gave him a decent living.
One humid day, while travelling on an ageless trade route, he met a man sitting at a crossroads. This rotund gentleman was dressed in lavish attire not suitable for the heat and was sweating profusely, dabbing his brow with a sickly pink silk handkerchief. TC smiled at idea of an easy con, and began to speak with the man. He learned that he had been travelling the other direction, away from TC's destination, running from gambling debts. This made TC salivate, he could tell this man was an addict. TC challenged him to a game of chess, to cool down in the shade. The man happily obliged, he even wagered some coin, TC didn't even have to push.
But while they played, time seemed to lose meaning. Before he knew it, the sky had grown much darker, and the man seemed larger then before. Eventually TC's king was toppled. He felt like he had been sitting for ages, parched with thirst and growling with hunger. That is when the man revealed his true form. He was Mammon, Demon Lord of Greed. Pleased with his abilities, he offered him a job. Mammon offered TC Bywater a portion of his power, the title of Warlock and all its blessings. He could use those powers as he pleased, till such a time when Mammon needed a servant on the Material Plane. He told TC that a much larger chess game was being assembled and he was to be a pawn on the board, with opportunities for promotion. TC leapt at the chance, and shook hands with Mammon. The sun came back and the demon was gone, all that was left was a golden ring on TC's pinky finger. Since that day, Trajan Clarendon Bywater has been loving life as a wise-guy of Mammon. Still conning and conniving, but braver now with his new palette of demonic spells.