Quentin Marshall's page

So what’s your story Mr. Marshall?

My life begins with a story as old as the first time one fella had more stuff than another.

As long as there’d been Marshall’s in Andoren, we’d been cattlemen. Had a good herd and good grazing for ‘em. But then the revolution came and the merchants got richer and started wantin’ more, as rich men are wont to do. Eventually they turned their eyes inland and they started up buying the cattle and the land all ‘round. They’d undercut our prices and we’d have to match ‘em until we were barely survivin’. The church of Abadar was only too pleased to lend us money to get back on our feet and only too pleased to take our ranch when it turned out we couldn't.

My brothers and my pa went to work as hands on another man’s ranch. I nearly had to do the same when an old wizard came into town looking for a fella with local knowledge. He was searchin' a man that wronged him and needed someone as could tell a boot print from a hole in the ground. I’ve never been the strongest man but I’m quick and I’m smart and he took a shine to me. He was paying good silver, which had a shine to me to I took a shine to him in a way. He taught me things about the world when we rode and taught me things about magic when we camped at night. That might seem a bit odd to someone as knows wizards but the old coot was a couple head short of a full herd if you catch my meaning. I got the sense that he wasn’t always talking to me, but rather speaking to the memory of someone else.

I found that man that had wronged the old wizard and when we did, the might of this dodgy old fart was nothing short of shockin’. I knew magic was around and people did it but it’s different when you’re a young man and you see this old fella makin’ fire out of nothing and throwin’ a man fifty feet with a wave of his hand. That man died that night and it wasn't a good death but maybe a deserved one. I wasn't paid to judge, anyway.

Before he left, he gave me a spell book. It wasn’t his, I’d seen his book before and this weren’t it. This was singed by fire and leafing through it, I saw that some of the writing was obscured by water damage. It wasn’t until later that I realized the spots of water seemed suspiciously like fallen tears. I don’t know who the book belonged to but he must have been mighty important to that wizard and I’m grateful and deeply humbled by the gift. He took his leave of me that night and as I rode home I realized that huntin’ men who’d done wrong was a job that needed doin’ and a job I could do.

I started huntin’ bounties after that. Like I said, I ain’t the strongest man but the old man’s magic gave me the leg up I needed. You’d be surprised how many men that thinks themselves hard go weak in the knees when faced with a bit of magic, even the simple stuff. It wasn’t long before my skills got noticed and merchants started paying me to help take their caravans down to Riverford where the barges would take it down to Almas. I was real happy to be able to take some of their money back for my family and I always made sure to make them pay as dearly as they would for my services. Besides, I often had to go down to the coast anyway for more bounties. *chuckles*

So you’re something of a lawman, then?

*Spits* Hell, no. Man breaks the law, it ain’t none of my business. Not until someone pays me to make it my business. That’s how a business works.

I see. Do you always bring in your bounties alive?

When they let me, mostly. Some men don’t deserve the luxury of a quick hangin’. They done stuff too bad. Sometimes, the people that’s wronged slip me some extra money to make sure they don’t come back alive. I take it, of course. Like I said, this is a business and I don’t judge.

I never bring a remount for my bounty so if they don’t have a horse, or it dies or runs off in the takin’ of my quarry, well, winters in Andoren can get mighty cold and the idea of walkin’ some bastard back doesn’t always sit well with me in intemperate weather. Way I see it, it’s his own damn fault for getting taken in the winter. Unless, of course, the bounty is only for bringin’ ‘em in breathin’. Man needs to make a livin’. I do my best to avoid those, though. Damned inconvenience.

So what sort of man are you then, Mr. Marshall? You care about your family enough to choose a hard life pursuing hard men but you have no qualms about killing them if they’re inconvenient.

I don’t know, I guess I’m complicated. Or perhaps conflicted, though conflicted implies a certain self evaluation of the morality of one’s actions, which I tend to lack. I guess I’m whatever I need to be to get the job done.

But isn’t everyone, when it comes down to it? A whore’s got to be blasé about sex ‘cause if she isn’t it might tear her up inside, in her soul I mean, not in a literal sense. A priest of the Sun Goddess Saren-whatsit got to be good an’ generous so as to show us an example. A priest of Abadar’s got to be a horse’s cock when it comes to a single clipped copper. We all got to be who we need to be to do what we need to do.

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Description
Marshall is in his early thirties, of about average height, a hair under 6 feet if you don't count his wide brimmed hat, which he almost never seems to take off. He is lithe, rather than stong but the confidence he shows in his movements suggests an able fighter. His piercing blue eyes show a ready intelligence that surprises some who judge him solely by his look and country accent. He speaks like he's chewing every word (think Jeff Bridges in True Grit). He smokes a pipe and tends to leave it in his mouth even when he isn't actively smoking it. He wears rough spun wool and leather appropriate for the outdoors under his well maintained chain shirt. A long brown leather overcoat is rolled up with his bedroll in case of chill nights.

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Tactics and Character Advancement
Pretty standard Magus fare here. I'll be focusing mainly on touch attacks, probably avoiding most rays and anything that allows a save because of his low (compared to a Wizard) Int.

At level 3 when black blade kicks in I'd like it to be an Aldori Dueling Sword. I'll get the exotic proficiency at that level. I'm open to finding it, having it be mysteriously in my possession, or anything really. It would be a good spot for collaboration. I'm also open to discussion about the blade's personality and goals. I'm even open to you controlling the blade and me learning about it as we play. That would allow a pretty organic relationship to develop.

My basic idea for the sword, again totally open to discussion, is Vera who will push him to be a better man than he normally is. Sort of like Mattie in True Grit. I think that could be both interesting and good for the party. That way even if you get a party full of people who can't always be counted on to do the right thing (which I think can be incredibly fun), you have a lever to push when you really need someone to be a damn hero.