Author Topic: FtMoKC: Thomas Hughes  (Read 528 times)

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Offline CroakerDogBoy

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FtMoKC: Thomas Hughes
« on: May 08, 2012, 01:31:15 PM »
Name: Thomas Hughes
Class: Townsman
Profession: Ruffian
Faction: Self-Interest (Amoral)
Faction Zeal: 30
Homeland: Oxfordshire
Age: 28 (approx.)

Characteristics & Attributes:
STR: 11
CON: 10
SIZ: 12
INT: 14
POW: 5
DEX: 11
CHA: 10

Height: 5'9''
Weight: 151 lbs
Cash: 60 shillings
Dmg Mod: 0
Movement: 15
HP: 11
Major Wound: 6
RP: 45
SAN: 25
Armor: 2/1 (light)

Common Skills

Athletics : 42
Close Combat : 80
Culture (own) : 58
Dance: 21
Dodge: 42
Drive : 35
Evaluate : 59
First Aid : 45
Gun Combat : 45
Influence: 70
Insight: 19
Lore (Oxfordshire) : 58
Perception : 59
Persistence: 25
Ranged Combat : 25
Resilience: 30
Ride: 16
Sing: 15
Sleight: 41
Stealth: 60
Unarmed Combat : 57

Advanced Skills

Language (English): 74
Lore (Gambling) : 28
Streetwise: 45
Commerce: 34
Gambling: 39
Beliefs (Royalist): 48


Rugged Costume: Long coat, leather jerkin, shirts, trousers, boots, warm socks, plain hat.

Backpack containing: Deck of cards, flint and tinder, clay pipe, tobacco pouch w/ tobacco, gunner's kit

Short dagger (carried in boot shaft)
Cudgel (approx. the length of an arm, slightly thicker in one end; carried at the inside of coat, in a special pocket)
Wheellock Carbine (a short version, carried inside coat in a customized strap)


Thomas had been born to the streets and narrow alleys of Oxford. He had given them his time and attention, and they in turn had provided him with a harsh education as good as any. He barely recalled his parents, only dim sensations of his mother's rough hands and the icy feeling of the cheap tin buckle of his father's belt as it drew bloody patterns across his back. He had left them as soon as he had enough sense in him and had found the streets a much fairer and more predictable family.

At first he had survived from day to day, through petty theft and running small errands from the local men of influence. Later, as he had learned most of the tricks of the trade, the ambitions of his heart grew along with the muscles under his rugged clothes. He started roughing up drunks outside the inns and brothels of the town, taking whatever money they hadn't already spent on drinks and whores. Later, as his success inspired him with courage, he found a lucrative income in the young and often wealthy students flocking to town. As of late, he had even been blessed with a steady income from aiding the local moneylenders and merchants in the persuasion of their debtors. His large, nasty looking club had not gone unnoticed, and the shadier alleys of Oxford were starting to know the name of "Cudgelling Thomas".

The civil war had had little impact on the daily life of Thomas. The street remained the street, although Thomas had often found it wise for his business to pretend sympathy with the Crown. In truth, though, his sympathies never extended beyond himself and his perseverance -- a goal, which he sought to reach through a pragmatical cunning regarding the world and its ways.

Recent events, however, had seen Oxford become an inhospitable host for the activities of Thomas. In collecting a debt owed by a butcher in the southern parts of town, blows had been exchanged resulting in a butcher as bruised and beaten as the meat he was selling. Unfortunately, this butcher was apparently vaguely related to the local magistrate, and he had started to stir trouble. Thomas found it wisest to leave town as soon as possible. 
"How do you hold on to an angel?"

"Hook em by the wing joint. You know where it jogs in there? Clip or a claw... a snare would do it."


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