Huxley

Name: Huxley
Born: 14,474 VE (29 yrs)
Place of Birth: Sebek
Species: Ves
Race: Nenn
Height: 5ft 8 in
Weight: 130 lbs
Occupation: Private chef
Residence: Various (Southern Valbaara, Tirkau)
Background: Con man, petty thief
Magical Aptitude: Low
Notable Features: Notch in left ear
Theme: Undecided


Likes: Cooking, sleight of hand, drinking, card games, sex, the sound of his own voice
Dislikes: Authority, exercise, hot weather, unseasoned food, liars


Charisma:      
Strength:       
Endurance:    
Intelligence:
Luck:               
Wisdom:         
Honesty:         

Huxley is a man with no last name. He's used many to fill in the gaps over the years, and he changes names like he changes his clothes. He was left alone early in life, and so a family name became something he couldn't afford to invest emotion into. Even as a child, Huxley was not particularly strong or quick, so it did not take long for him to learn to talk his way out of a problem. He became quite adept in telling people what they needed to hear in order for him to get his way.

Through all of this, Huxley found himself flourishing down in the cracks of the world. His childhood years were spent picking pockets and pinching things that wouldn't be missed. As he grew older, he picked up a taste for gambling. Luck seemed to be on his side more often than not. And when it wasn't, Huxley would always keep a card up his sleeve or a pair of trick dice that would ensure the next roll would recoup anything lost. As long as he talked a smooth game and played his cards right, he wouldn't have to worry about taking a fist to the gut too often.

Somewhere along the way, he managed to pick up a legitimate hobby or two. Of all things, cooking turned out to be one of his strongest suits. His legitimate jobs saw him in and out of cramped kitchens, scrubbing dishes and chopping more vegetables than he would ever know what to do with. After enough time and practice under his belt, Huxley could even pass himself off as a professional, just so long as no one looked too far into the accreditations he claimed.

But he's getting older, and the shine is wearing off of his way of life. There's a part of him, deep down, that longs for something genuine, something real. Maybe that's what drew him so powerfully to a man like Anzo. It's a shame the war had to go and burn it all down. After all, if there's one thing Huxley knows, it's that he's not going to fight for the empire, no matter how many conscription notices they send.

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