A family man.


Human Cleric, Strong as hell, Bald as hell, Protects his.

Mechanic/Wagon Enthusiast – 3
Gang Leader – 4
Ex-Convict – 1

Icon Relationships
Need the book for this. I recognize the American Muscle Gods?!?!?

Basic Stats
AC: 17
PD: 14
MD: 12
HP: 27


The world is a shit place. Santa Cora is a shit place. But even in a shit place a man can find a way, can find a living, can find hope. I grew up hard, on the streets with no parents or structure. The only way to carve out a place in shit is with people you trust. I learned that the hard way. You see, when there isn’t much in the way of opportunity for a young person the driven will forge a way through the shit, while the weak will perish or be witness to the strong. You can’t make it out here alone, I’ve seen those who try, those who die. You need a crew, and my crew, baby, we was the best. By the age of 15 me and my boys ruled our shit neighborhood, and we defended it with our lives, our blood, our grit. Nothing makes you closer to people than saving their lives, you depending on them, them depending on you to save their sorry ass. I was 19 when I made my first big mistake, her name was Xaioyan Tran. That was the first time I was met with betrayal; the first time someone was close who I shouldn’t have depended on. I spent 1 year in the shitter because she set me up as the fall guy for – let’s just say an absconded gold plated wagon. Funny thing is I was sentenced to 15, by my boys, my boys always had my back.

Ya’know there are several stages of betrayal: shock, disbelief, tension, and then finally rage. Now the first three, they grow on you. You get used to em. Its the last one, robbing you of thought, robbing you of sense, that’s the one that gets you in trouble. His name was Lamaendir, and he was an amateur. I mean AN amateur, talented, but a delittante nonetheless. The man couldn’t even J-turn a wagon until I got my hands on him. Bout 6’ 2", dirty blonde, blue eyed elf, a straight talker, he had the feel that you could trust him. When Lamaendir came into my crew it wasn’t without an invitation, and it sure as hell wasn’t without an audition. But got in he did, even started dating my sister. We were pulling our usual bullshit, get intel, find out where a wagon full of weapons, goods, magic stuff would be. I would plan the attack, then we would attack. You see, once you learn how to make a wagon breathe, how to feel her power, you understand how to catch anything else on two wheels. The side money from wagon racing was just fluff, the wagon shop just a cover, the real money came from the APP, LI, CAT, ION of those skills. A lot of vagrants never understood that. Sure you can wagon real good, but what are you going to do with it? How good are you? Are you better than half of em? Better than 75%? Better than 90%?

The mark was easy, theory is always easy. Its the practice that’s hard. The plan was simple, a simple pincer. Three wagons on the road, one in front of the target, one on each side, they have no choice but to stop. What we didn’t plan on was the light footed motherfucker sitting on the goods. Once the damn wagon stopped, a single hiss lingered in the air while each one of my boys dropped. I’m sure you’ve felt pain, but I doubt you’ve felt pain like this. These were my boys, they’ve literally cared for me since we all were young. No matter what you’ve been through, nothing prepares you for seeing some skinny fuck teleport behind each member of your family and disemboweling them. Lamaendir and I booked it, barely escaping with our lives. Now I may look dumb, and uneducated – well I am uneducated, but I know that an assassin like that doesn’t come from nowhere. Back at the shop I eyed Lamaendir. He knew it was over. Its rage, rage is the one you can’t live with, the other three, they’re manageable. But rage, rage make you smash a person’s head into the floor with a wagon wheel until you’ve hit bed rock – that’s not what happened. I didn’t have a chance, within minutes of arriving at the shop the SCGF (Santa Cora Guard Force) were on us. It was all setup. Lamaendir, exhorted sorrow, spewed forgiveness, vomited regret. It didn’t matter and he has the scar across his face to know it. A cross across the narcs mug – sometimes rage makes you feel better. My charge permanently disabled by SCGF wizards, he threw me the keys to his supra.

A man can live for a lot of things in this world, he can find happiness in shit, he can find purpose in protecting his own. I used to live for my crew, and they for me; some ties bind, and some ties bind too deep for forgiveness.

The streets prepare you for lots of things, but some things you can’t prepare for. Racing out of Santa Cora – the only place I’ve known. I’ll find him, he destroyed my family.


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