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OOC Information


Name: Jasmin
Age: 32
Pref. Pronouns: she/her
Contact: [plurk.com profile] shaestorms
Current characters: Niabi

IC Information


Name/Alias: Thomas (Thom) Foolery
Age: Older than a loaf of bread, younger than the sea (looks about seventy, but who knows)
Occupation: Itinerant harper and wastrel minstrel wastrel
Born with The Vice?: Yes
If yes, do they use it?: No

Appearance:
Weathered, grey, and the kind of lean that comes from ceaseless movement with lively eyes and a ready smile. His nose has been broken at least once, and it has a distinct crook as a result. Carries a 12-string harp in a case that he cares for with the solicitousness he obviously denies himself, and wears a long coat that looks like it was made at about the same time the world was. Both he and it have somehow not fallen apart.

History:
  • Ordinary childhood, extraordinary musical talent. He studied to become a bard, did so well that he ended up with a position at a local noble's keep.
  • At 20, his Vice manifested. The keep he was playing in was hit by winds every time he played that went from gentle breezes during nice relaxed lays to brutal storms that stripped thatch and about lifted away livestock when he was really rollicking. Eventually someone accused him of doing it, and he was run out of town.
  • "No way, I'm not a witch." Tests it out. Is definitely a witch. Fucking literally godsdamn.
  • Walked until two towns over, got blind drunk about it, and the next morning he woke up with a hangover and a handful of copper coins. Was horrified to find he'd apparently played a set the night before... but nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Curse lifted?
  • Tries again that night, and no, no it isn't, it just turns out he can't do it while drunk.
  • Has been drunk ever since.
  • Has also wandered ever since. Thom doesn't like to stay in the same place for more than a couple of days at a time, and most of it he spends adjacent to tavern floors, but as a result he knows just about everything that happens everywhere.

    Personality:
    Thom hates himself with the kind of bleak intensity that often rolls over to the other side and becomes humor. This, coupled with his apparent refusal to die of being rolled by highwaymen, natural disaster, or protracted alcoholism (despite his best efforts), has made him a devil-may-care rapscallion with a penchant for shit-stirring. Maybe someone will stab him someday! He does, however, genuinely love—and is loved by—both dogs and children.

    Abilities:
  • Exceptional Memory: Both gifted with it and aided by years of bardic training, Thom remembers pretty much everything, even when blackout drunk. This is unfortunate for him and others. It does help with the news-carrying though.
  • Music Maker: Although the way he lives his life really should have ruined it, Thom has a voice that ought to get him sainted and harpin' fingers that can keep up with it.
  • Whistling the Wind (Vice): The man can very literally sing up a storm. He does not do this.

    Reputation:
    Despite the egregious tab he has at the tavern and his habit of passing out in the middle of the square such that he's been declared dead on at least three occasions (and buried once), Thom's erratic appearances are usually met with excitement. He's a vast source of news, songs, tales, and rumors from all over and is always good for a laugh, a drink (in the "lend me a coin and I'll buy you a drink" way), the hottest out-of-town goss, and a pocket full of hangman's jokes that start hilarious and get more depressing the more you think about them.

    Every time he comes to town he proposes to Mad Ag. She will not have him. :(
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    Thom Foolery

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