Jamven Hays

Description:

Abilities: Agi d8, Str d6, Vit d6, Ale d8, Int d8, Wil d6
Init: d8 + d8; LP: 12
Plot Points: 6; Advancement Points: 0

Traits:
Highly Educated (ma) +2 step Attribute bonus to Intelligence for any Knowledge-based skill roll when trying to recall information
Sharp Sense (ma) +2 step Attribute bonus to Alertness when using Sight
Steady Calm (Ma) +2 step Attribute bonus to Willpower to avoid being shaken
Talented (Ma) +2 step Skill bonus to Swords and each progression to a higher die costs 2 points less
Tough As Nails (Ma) 4 extra Life Points
Branded (Mc) virtually everyone in the ‘verse has heard of your bad reputation and you suffer a -2 step Skill penalty to any social interactions
Credo (Mc) your creed (Honor among thieves, and death before dishonor) is a sure fire way to get in trouble
Deadly Enemy (mc) every 3 to 5 adventures someone from your past causes you trouble
Hooked (mc) you are abusing tobacco and must get a daily fix or suffer a -4 step penalty to all Attributes for two weeks or until you get your fix
Superstitious (mc) omens give you either +2 Attribute bonus or -2 Attribute penalty for a set of action (determined by the GM)

Skills:
Covert d8/Open Lock d12/Stealth d12/Infiltration d12/Disable Devices d12
Guns d8/ Pistols d12
Knowledge d8
Melee Weapon Combat d8/Swords d12
Percention d4

Bio:

Well, I guess I can give it a shot, but it’s not a happy story. My parents were well-to-do citizens of the Core. They were far from rich by core standards, but they were a hell of a lot better off then some of the wealthier people of the Rim. A few years before I was born they moved out to the Rim for one of the same reasons most people heading that direction had. They were running from something. I never found out what exactly they were avoiding, or why they had to. They had more money then most folk of the Rim had, what did they have to worry about?

Because of their money, I managed to get a decent education. That makes two reasons most folk in the Rim didn’t look very kindly on us. Dad made me learn how to duel with a sword. He told me it was a gentleman’s sport, and in these parts it is, but I never really saw how skewering or slicing someone to pieces could ever be considered “gentile”. A few years and several angry Rim dwellers later, I figured out it was for my own safety. It wasn’t long after I realized that when things went ugly. Very few of our neighbors ever liked us very much, being we had more money than most of them did combined. Every now and then there were break-ins, burglaries, and the occasional drunken bar fight, but not much more than that. Then one night I woke up to hear my mother screaming. I jumped from the bed, grabbed my sword and ran to their room to see something that my mind will never let me forget. My dad’s body was little more then a bloody pulp next to their bed with man who loomed over the mess staring at his handiwork wielding a blood covered bat. My mother was being held by two other men, making her watch. At this point my rage fueled everything. I don’t remember much. Something about blind rage and the sudden shock of some situations tend to cloud one’s memory. What I do remember clearly is that I woke up on the floor with a massive head ache and my mothers severed head staring at me. Scared out of my mind and dizzy from the apparent head injury, I stumbled around to find 3 mangled corpses in the room that I remembered seeing around town. So much for good neighbors. This is when I realized the house was burning, and had been for a while. I snatched a pistol from one of them, grabbed some clothes and my sword and ran the hell out of there. I don’t know how far I went, and neither did I care. As long as I was out of that damned town I was happy, or as close to happy as a newly orphaned and homeless young man could get. I was lost, and everything in my life had fallen apart in hours. No money, no home, and no idea what to do. After a situation like this, you can’t fail with smoking a cigarette. The only problem was I usually left my pack on my dresser, and I didn’t think of grabbing them on my frantic escape from that burning house, but I suppose fate had felt so damn bad for me that I was granted one small degree of comfort. My hand fell on a bulge in the jacket pocket. I reached into it to find a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I never cared much for the ideas of luck, fate, or omens until then, for that was all I really had left to go on at that point. I would occaisionally sneak back into town to check on the gossip and steal some supplies. Very rarely was I caught, and even more seldom did any witnesses live. After what happened I lost all respect and remorse for these people, other than a few who were in a similar position. Honour Among Thieves. After a few years I got cocky and stole from the wrong person. He tracked me back to my camp and left me with an ultimatum. Either I die, or I make others die for him and his “Company”. He only ever referred to it as “The Company”. I would be paid handsomely, housed, and protected if I went along with it, he valued the skills I’d picked up skulking around town pilfering whatever I needed to get by. I figured it was a good deal. Kill some worthless Rim dwellers for good money, a home, in return for not getting killed myself? Why not? For about 8 years I made these assassinations. We’d get a letter, and whoever was best able to do it got it done. Then the Alliance came into the picture. Who would have thought that way out there they would have even bothered? We got raided, and most of my coworkers were excecuted on the spot. The few that were left were shipped to Perdition. Now that I’m free again, I have a sneaking suspicion that someone will be after me, but we’ll see how that goes.

Jamven Hays

Freedom's Flight MrDiggity