Garland "Flicker" Royce
"Trust in your fear" - Inquisitorial Tarot Reading
Height: 175 cm
Weight: 70 kg
Skin Colour: Tan
Eye Colour: Green
Hair Colour: Blonde
Weapons and Equipment
Club : 1d10+3 pen 0 primitive
Knife: 1d5+3(5) pen 0 primitive Range: 3m (thrown)
Westingkrup Model 47 Combat Pistol: 1d10+6 Pen 2 Range: 30m
S/3/6 Magazine: 15 Half Rld Reliable
Sleight of Hand
Talents and Traits
Basic/Pistol Training SP
Melee Weapon Training Primitive
Way of the Gun
Two Weapon Wielder Ballistic
Nerves of Steel
Gather round, and listen well sons and daughters of Metallica; for I’ve a tale to tell. It involves one of our very own, one that can truly be counted as amongst the best, and brightest of us, for he was indeed, a man who stood for our way of life.
But did you know that despite the lofty heights that he rose up to, that he came from the humblest beginnings? He was born to a family of forge labourers living deep in the lower levels of the hive. There he grew up there strong, and hard, like the very steel and iron we forge everyday. Alas it was not to be enough, for a gang war, like so many have experienced, erupted within his district. It swept into the streets, as unstoppable as a sump-fall, turning neighbour against neighbour and making men into beasts. Caught in a life or death situation he did the only thing he could to survive. He joined them. My lord was only fourteen at the time. As for what happened to his parents, no man can tell for they were never seen again after that night.
For four long years did my lord labour under the toils and troubles of life in Infernis. There he learned to be as swift as a striking ash snake, adding many a kill to his name. It was only upon his eighteenth name day though that he truly found his purpose: the arena. There, the crowd’s lusty howls for blood proved to be a balm for his soul for he flourished, displaying all his hard won skill at arms. He killed, and he killed again, and the crowd loved him for it. Destiny however had a different path in store for him however, as the famed forge of Westingkrup offered him terms of employment.
Sent to guard one of the minor forges near Forge Doru territory, it was a quiet posting. Forgemaster Arkios who was a wizened sage of smithing treated those under his employ with a kindness and leniency that was unheard of. Knowing that my lord had not yet been properly recompensed for his time, Arkios gave him a day of plenty to make up for it as well as a letter from the inquisition. His lack of vigilance was to be his downfall. Having sent away his best fighter, Forge Doru, those filthy cowards, took advantage of this lapse, and assaulted the forge intending to steal secrets.
Considering Erlend’s words took much time for my lord and though he eventually arrived back to the scene of battle, he was too late to influence its outcome. In rage and vengeance he took his solace, and he sought out those who killed his employers avenging them with lead and gunsmoke. Now my lord journeys to meet Erlend, and now his saga truly begins.
- Tobias Emory, The Saga of the Gunslinger