Bevel
03-21-08, 05:47 PM
Name: Bevel LeChaudiere Kessler
Age: 153
Race: Dark Elf, albeit an ugly one.
Hair Color: Dirty gray
Eye Color: Dark brown.
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 212 lb.
Occupation: Engineer, aeronaut, amateur scam artist and professional schmuck.
Personality:
(Bevel’s still unfinished personality-wise. Here’s a brief rundown.)
Bevel’s temperament hovers between sanguine and phlegmatic. On one hand, he has a lust and zeal for life that drives him to keep on living (not an easy proposition with the occasional creditor-funded bounty hunter turning up), but on the other, he comes off almost lax in his attitudes. He does love engaging in battles of insults or wits, despite really only being proficient in the former.
Appearance:
Ah, the dark elves. Mysterious, graceful, ruling from their umbral throne with an iron hand in a velvet glove. The very mention of the race evokes fear, awe, images of fluid forms sliding majestically through marble halls.
We’ll have none of that here.
“An unkempt, unshaven, uncouth and unbelievably atrocious little troll of an elf,” to quote his financier, is putting it politely. Bevel lacks the sophistication and bearing of the rest of his race, and one has to wonder if he doesn’t have some human or, heaven forbid, dwarf in his ancestry. He’s slightly shorter than your average elf, but more than makes up for it in girth. He’s working on a fine potbelly; his hands are pudgy and calloused. Jowled cheeks sag on his face like a basset hound’s, flanking a nose like a squashed tomato, squatting above an ample chin with a five o’clock shadow that’s seen one too many five o’ clocks. Even his skin is a funny ashen gray, instead of the sleek midnight blue of most dark elves.
Being of moderate means, Bevel likes his clothing comfortable and functional, preferring a leather jacket and a mechanic’s heavy cloth shirt and pants. As he’s balding, Bevel has acquired a predilection for stupid hats, his current one being a fedora he found somewhere. Finally, he wears a thick belt around his large waist with many pockets to keep things in – pockets that are annoyingly empty at this point in time.
History:
“Let me get this straight, then,” said the clerk, rubbing his brow. He seemed to be having trouble with his words. “You wish to build…”
“An airship,” smiled the inventor.
“But we have plenty of those,” replied the clerk, a touch of annoyance peeking through his forced politeness.
The dark elf across from him lounged heavily in the chair, exposing a slightly hairy potbelly. “But they’re for transportation and war. Either way, they’re not going where I need them to. Where I want them to.”
“Again, we have no need of an explorer. The Queen hires those on a case by case basis.”
“Right,” replied the inventor. “I know.”
The clerk glanced over his wire-rimmed spectacles. This unpleasant individual had been getting engine oil on his nice leather chair for the better part of an hour now, and it seemed the only way to be rid of him was to hand him the investment. He had a particularly annoying habit of stringing on his conversation over several bits of banter.
Steeling himself, the clerk asked the question he knew his malodorous client was waiting on: “Then why –“
“Because what the Queen doesn’t know won’t hurt us," interrupted the annoying elf. "I want to go treasure hunting, exploring, bring back furs or gold or rare plants or what have you. And if I do it myself, and make the money back myself, that’s more for me -us, even- and less for our esteemed royalty. Actually, none for our esteemed royalty. And thus, the sooner and greater I can pay back the interest you lot are doubtless going to saddle me with. I’ve got a crew, I’ve got a plan, I just need an airship.”
The clerk blinked at him. “Then why build an airship?”
The heavyset elf shot him a look that said one thing: Because I can. “It’s justified because it’s all under the table. No dealers, no huge shipyards, just some months and a private hangar and I’ll be ready to go.”
“I’m curious about one final thing, though,” continued this singularly annoying fellow, taking a long pull on a complimentary cigar, “How many visits does it take before I get the loan?”
Bevel Kessler walked out of that office several thousand gold richer, went straight to the nearest hangar, and to everyone’s surprise, did exactly what he said he would: started building his airship.
****
Fast-forward the better part of a year. Explorer I tugs at her rope like an uncaged bird, Bevel regales his creditors with stories of fortune and new lands, and soon enough he takes to the skies.
Unsurprisingly, a heavily armed loan company airship follows.
Bevel banked on this, and sails around for a half hour to demonstrate his handiwork. And then, as planned, he cuts his engine power, drifting towards a nearby cloud with emergency flags up. The loan company ship closes in with grappling hooks to retrieve their property, but before they can reach him, he enters the cloud with no engine power.
The loan company airship circles the cloud slowly, before something dark plunges from the cloud. It’s Explorer I, and she’s plummeting to earth. As quickly as a large flying warship can, the big ship dives after the doomed craft…only to watch it smash into the ground in a colossal fireball.
As recovery crews swarm the area like ants, Bevel sits in the real airship he’s constructed and drifts slowly away from Ettermire within his cloud. He can’t believe constructing a dummy airship and inflating it within a cloud actually worked.
****
Those three years ago, Bevel didn’t think they’d perform necromancy on “his” bones recovered from the crash.
And they weren’t happy, either, to find a pig’s spirit awaiting them. (He used soup bones.)
****
It came back to bite him. Just a few months ago, Explorer I was attacked by bounty hunters off the coast of Corone. She was boarded, kept aloft by hooked grapples while the troops stormed over her deck, killing his small crew mercilessly, and Bevel had no choice but to scuttle her and parachute to safety. Taking one last look around the small engine room, he closed all safety valves and dropped out the trapdoor in the bottom. He couldn’t bear to watch as the small airship’s engines detonated and took his prized work with them.
It didn't occur to him until he landed that he'd left his prized Alerian pistol on board.
Now, Bevel has finally made his way to Scara Brae, coming out of the woodwork due to the current political churnings in his homeland. He figures it’s a good time to place his life back on the rails and take off once again. He still has his goals, though, of wealth and an airship to call his own, but right now he has to build up both allies and gold before this dream can be realized.
Skills:
Engineering: Bevel’s most prolific skill is his affinity for mechanical devices. Given the time and resources, he could whip up an interesting device such as a pocketwatch, a telescope or most ambitiously, a small airship. That is, of course, “given the time and resources.” He lacks the ability of most gadgeteers to simply MacGuyver something up out of chewing gum and paper clips, and requires both time, effort, and good materials to do so. This is not a mid-battle thing, but it could be of use while questing.
A bonus of his knack with moving parts is that, given enough time to study a machine, he could figure out its workings. This only applies to the “steampunk” technology seen in Ettermire and below; he simply can’t divine the workings of futuristic technologies like ray guns and nanobots. An exception is made for devices with obvious functions, such as the legs of a mech or something with wheels.
Fast-Talk: Despite is apparent lack of charisma, Bevel is decent enough with words to BS his way around some obstacles, such as raising the capital for an airship project. He was not, however, gifted enough to talk his way out of the creditors’ wrath when he failed to pay back their investment.
Melee Combat – Below Average: Besides “hit stuff with a wrench and/or fists,” our hero isn’t overly proficient in melee. He’d fair well in a barroom brawl, not so well against anyone trained.
Firearms – Below Average: Bevel used to carry a long pistol, but was an abysmal shot with it when shooting from the hip. He knows how to hold a gun, though, which he could use to bluff an opponent.
Navigation: A keen interest in the stars above and a serious malady of wanderlust give Bevel the ability to use a map and a compass fairly well, as well as navigate via the stars. Being an airship enthusiast, he can dead-reckon altitude via the barometric pressure.
Lesser Pyromancy: Despite magic coming easily to his race, Bevel has a difficult time with it. The one bit of magic he can force out is an extremely limited form of fire magic, involving producing small bits of glowing heat from his pudgy fingers. Most often, he’ll channel it into a thumb for use as an impromptu welding torch, to light a torch or grenade or start a fire. While channeling it through his hands, he feels a blunted pain, like holding that hand over a candle too long. Also, any “real” fire magic (i.e. fireballs, fire walls, that sort of thing) is thoroughly out of the question.
Weaknesses:
Decreased Agility: Dark elves are naturally agile, but not the fat ones. Bevel is more agile on his feet than a human of similar build (read: dumpy), but less so comparable to an average human. Certainly, he’s less fleet of foot than an elf.
Homely: Bevel isn’t attractive, if the physical description didn’t clue in.
Price On His Head: Somewhat lessened now, thanks to the reclaiming of his ship (well, salvage) and some treasures he found, but Bevel still has some way to go to pay back his creditors. A sporadic bounty hunter may turn up, having some desire to bring him (or his head) back to Alerar to face the creditors. As far as wanted men go, though, Bevel’s pretty low on the list of priorities.
Equipment:
Ammunition: Bevel carries enough powder, wadding and shot for thirteen shots of a standard Alerian flintlock pistol. Unfortunately, he's currently firearm-less.
Smoke Bombs: Right now, Bevel only has two of these, made mostly of paper wadding and simple chemicals. They rather quickly blanket a twenty foot radius in drab grey smoke, but aren’t overly useful in a breeze.
Toolkit: A smallish assortment of screwdrivers, augers, mallets and small bits of metal for his tinkering.
Wrench: A large iron wrench weighing about six pounds, heavier than light swords, which he uses to fix stubborn piping and even more stubborn craniums as the situation demands.
Explorer’s Gear: Basic travel gear such as a light rucksack, dried provisions, a walking stick and a compass. Also includes a few rolls of parchment, a magnifying glass and some writing implements for cartography purposes, as well as a small brass telescope.
Rare Earth Magnets: Bevel likes lodestones. Very useful for sticking bits of paper to metal things.
Steel Knife: He likes to keep a hunting knife around for its usefulness.
****
And that's that!
Age: 153
Race: Dark Elf, albeit an ugly one.
Hair Color: Dirty gray
Eye Color: Dark brown.
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 212 lb.
Occupation: Engineer, aeronaut, amateur scam artist and professional schmuck.
Personality:
(Bevel’s still unfinished personality-wise. Here’s a brief rundown.)
Bevel’s temperament hovers between sanguine and phlegmatic. On one hand, he has a lust and zeal for life that drives him to keep on living (not an easy proposition with the occasional creditor-funded bounty hunter turning up), but on the other, he comes off almost lax in his attitudes. He does love engaging in battles of insults or wits, despite really only being proficient in the former.
Appearance:
Ah, the dark elves. Mysterious, graceful, ruling from their umbral throne with an iron hand in a velvet glove. The very mention of the race evokes fear, awe, images of fluid forms sliding majestically through marble halls.
We’ll have none of that here.
“An unkempt, unshaven, uncouth and unbelievably atrocious little troll of an elf,” to quote his financier, is putting it politely. Bevel lacks the sophistication and bearing of the rest of his race, and one has to wonder if he doesn’t have some human or, heaven forbid, dwarf in his ancestry. He’s slightly shorter than your average elf, but more than makes up for it in girth. He’s working on a fine potbelly; his hands are pudgy and calloused. Jowled cheeks sag on his face like a basset hound’s, flanking a nose like a squashed tomato, squatting above an ample chin with a five o’clock shadow that’s seen one too many five o’ clocks. Even his skin is a funny ashen gray, instead of the sleek midnight blue of most dark elves.
Being of moderate means, Bevel likes his clothing comfortable and functional, preferring a leather jacket and a mechanic’s heavy cloth shirt and pants. As he’s balding, Bevel has acquired a predilection for stupid hats, his current one being a fedora he found somewhere. Finally, he wears a thick belt around his large waist with many pockets to keep things in – pockets that are annoyingly empty at this point in time.
History:
“Let me get this straight, then,” said the clerk, rubbing his brow. He seemed to be having trouble with his words. “You wish to build…”
“An airship,” smiled the inventor.
“But we have plenty of those,” replied the clerk, a touch of annoyance peeking through his forced politeness.
The dark elf across from him lounged heavily in the chair, exposing a slightly hairy potbelly. “But they’re for transportation and war. Either way, they’re not going where I need them to. Where I want them to.”
“Again, we have no need of an explorer. The Queen hires those on a case by case basis.”
“Right,” replied the inventor. “I know.”
The clerk glanced over his wire-rimmed spectacles. This unpleasant individual had been getting engine oil on his nice leather chair for the better part of an hour now, and it seemed the only way to be rid of him was to hand him the investment. He had a particularly annoying habit of stringing on his conversation over several bits of banter.
Steeling himself, the clerk asked the question he knew his malodorous client was waiting on: “Then why –“
“Because what the Queen doesn’t know won’t hurt us," interrupted the annoying elf. "I want to go treasure hunting, exploring, bring back furs or gold or rare plants or what have you. And if I do it myself, and make the money back myself, that’s more for me -us, even- and less for our esteemed royalty. Actually, none for our esteemed royalty. And thus, the sooner and greater I can pay back the interest you lot are doubtless going to saddle me with. I’ve got a crew, I’ve got a plan, I just need an airship.”
The clerk blinked at him. “Then why build an airship?”
The heavyset elf shot him a look that said one thing: Because I can. “It’s justified because it’s all under the table. No dealers, no huge shipyards, just some months and a private hangar and I’ll be ready to go.”
“I’m curious about one final thing, though,” continued this singularly annoying fellow, taking a long pull on a complimentary cigar, “How many visits does it take before I get the loan?”
Bevel Kessler walked out of that office several thousand gold richer, went straight to the nearest hangar, and to everyone’s surprise, did exactly what he said he would: started building his airship.
****
Fast-forward the better part of a year. Explorer I tugs at her rope like an uncaged bird, Bevel regales his creditors with stories of fortune and new lands, and soon enough he takes to the skies.
Unsurprisingly, a heavily armed loan company airship follows.
Bevel banked on this, and sails around for a half hour to demonstrate his handiwork. And then, as planned, he cuts his engine power, drifting towards a nearby cloud with emergency flags up. The loan company ship closes in with grappling hooks to retrieve their property, but before they can reach him, he enters the cloud with no engine power.
The loan company airship circles the cloud slowly, before something dark plunges from the cloud. It’s Explorer I, and she’s plummeting to earth. As quickly as a large flying warship can, the big ship dives after the doomed craft…only to watch it smash into the ground in a colossal fireball.
As recovery crews swarm the area like ants, Bevel sits in the real airship he’s constructed and drifts slowly away from Ettermire within his cloud. He can’t believe constructing a dummy airship and inflating it within a cloud actually worked.
****
Those three years ago, Bevel didn’t think they’d perform necromancy on “his” bones recovered from the crash.
And they weren’t happy, either, to find a pig’s spirit awaiting them. (He used soup bones.)
****
It came back to bite him. Just a few months ago, Explorer I was attacked by bounty hunters off the coast of Corone. She was boarded, kept aloft by hooked grapples while the troops stormed over her deck, killing his small crew mercilessly, and Bevel had no choice but to scuttle her and parachute to safety. Taking one last look around the small engine room, he closed all safety valves and dropped out the trapdoor in the bottom. He couldn’t bear to watch as the small airship’s engines detonated and took his prized work with them.
It didn't occur to him until he landed that he'd left his prized Alerian pistol on board.
Now, Bevel has finally made his way to Scara Brae, coming out of the woodwork due to the current political churnings in his homeland. He figures it’s a good time to place his life back on the rails and take off once again. He still has his goals, though, of wealth and an airship to call his own, but right now he has to build up both allies and gold before this dream can be realized.
Skills:
Engineering: Bevel’s most prolific skill is his affinity for mechanical devices. Given the time and resources, he could whip up an interesting device such as a pocketwatch, a telescope or most ambitiously, a small airship. That is, of course, “given the time and resources.” He lacks the ability of most gadgeteers to simply MacGuyver something up out of chewing gum and paper clips, and requires both time, effort, and good materials to do so. This is not a mid-battle thing, but it could be of use while questing.
A bonus of his knack with moving parts is that, given enough time to study a machine, he could figure out its workings. This only applies to the “steampunk” technology seen in Ettermire and below; he simply can’t divine the workings of futuristic technologies like ray guns and nanobots. An exception is made for devices with obvious functions, such as the legs of a mech or something with wheels.
Fast-Talk: Despite is apparent lack of charisma, Bevel is decent enough with words to BS his way around some obstacles, such as raising the capital for an airship project. He was not, however, gifted enough to talk his way out of the creditors’ wrath when he failed to pay back their investment.
Melee Combat – Below Average: Besides “hit stuff with a wrench and/or fists,” our hero isn’t overly proficient in melee. He’d fair well in a barroom brawl, not so well against anyone trained.
Firearms – Below Average: Bevel used to carry a long pistol, but was an abysmal shot with it when shooting from the hip. He knows how to hold a gun, though, which he could use to bluff an opponent.
Navigation: A keen interest in the stars above and a serious malady of wanderlust give Bevel the ability to use a map and a compass fairly well, as well as navigate via the stars. Being an airship enthusiast, he can dead-reckon altitude via the barometric pressure.
Lesser Pyromancy: Despite magic coming easily to his race, Bevel has a difficult time with it. The one bit of magic he can force out is an extremely limited form of fire magic, involving producing small bits of glowing heat from his pudgy fingers. Most often, he’ll channel it into a thumb for use as an impromptu welding torch, to light a torch or grenade or start a fire. While channeling it through his hands, he feels a blunted pain, like holding that hand over a candle too long. Also, any “real” fire magic (i.e. fireballs, fire walls, that sort of thing) is thoroughly out of the question.
Weaknesses:
Decreased Agility: Dark elves are naturally agile, but not the fat ones. Bevel is more agile on his feet than a human of similar build (read: dumpy), but less so comparable to an average human. Certainly, he’s less fleet of foot than an elf.
Homely: Bevel isn’t attractive, if the physical description didn’t clue in.
Price On His Head: Somewhat lessened now, thanks to the reclaiming of his ship (well, salvage) and some treasures he found, but Bevel still has some way to go to pay back his creditors. A sporadic bounty hunter may turn up, having some desire to bring him (or his head) back to Alerar to face the creditors. As far as wanted men go, though, Bevel’s pretty low on the list of priorities.
Equipment:
Ammunition: Bevel carries enough powder, wadding and shot for thirteen shots of a standard Alerian flintlock pistol. Unfortunately, he's currently firearm-less.
Smoke Bombs: Right now, Bevel only has two of these, made mostly of paper wadding and simple chemicals. They rather quickly blanket a twenty foot radius in drab grey smoke, but aren’t overly useful in a breeze.
Toolkit: A smallish assortment of screwdrivers, augers, mallets and small bits of metal for his tinkering.
Wrench: A large iron wrench weighing about six pounds, heavier than light swords, which he uses to fix stubborn piping and even more stubborn craniums as the situation demands.
Explorer’s Gear: Basic travel gear such as a light rucksack, dried provisions, a walking stick and a compass. Also includes a few rolls of parchment, a magnifying glass and some writing implements for cartography purposes, as well as a small brass telescope.
Rare Earth Magnets: Bevel likes lodestones. Very useful for sticking bits of paper to metal things.
Steel Knife: He likes to keep a hunting knife around for its usefulness.
****
And that's that!