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Message: <blockquote data-quote="GreyOne" data-source="post: 107331" data-attributes="member: 858">Felix Jackson:Human Male Huckster 2; VP/WP: 12/12; Init +2 (+2 dex); Armor Class 12 (+2 dex); Spd 30'; Atk +2 melee (1d3 +1unarmed or 1d4+2 bowie knife, crit 19-20) or +2 ranged (2d4+2 colt lightning, 6 shots, crit 19-20, Range Inc 30'); SV Fort +0 Ref +3 Will +3; SZ M; Chips 1; Str 10, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 12. Skills: Hexslingin’ +7 (4/+3), Gamblin' +4 (3/+1), Decipher Script +7 (4,+3), Knowledge (Caribbean Lore)+8 (5/+3), Ridicule +5 (2/+3), Sleight o’ Hand +7 (5/+2), Spellcraft +8 (5/+3), Concentration +7 (4/+3), Bluff +5 (4/+1), Gather Information +5 (4/+1)Feats: Extra Spell Points, Pipsqueak Equipment: ($125): Hoyle’s Book of Games, Colt Lightning ($13, 2 lb), 50 shots of Ammo ($2, 2 lb), Gunbelt and Quickdraw holster ($13, 2 lb), Bowie Knife ($4, 2 lbs), Dynamite (4 sticks-$12, 4 lbs), Matches (box of 50-$0.50,-),  Derby ($1.50, 0.50 lb), Boots ($8, 4lb), Work Shirt and Pants ($3, 3lb), Playing Cards (four sets, $1) Poor Riding Horse ($50,-) [total spent $107.50, total weight 24 1/2lb] Spell Points: 27 (Int 16+3+3+5)Spells: Level 0- Tinhorn Shuffle, Hesitate, Ignite; Level 1- Soul Blast, Cause Fear, Shadow Man,  Trinkets Appearance: 5’ 5”, 140 lb ex-slave, skin like coffee, muscular and slim, missing right earlobe, age: approx 20-21 years.My Past: Hell, I don’t ‘member when or where I was born.  Somewhere in Tennessee I ‘magine a few years ‘fore the war began.  I was a plantation slave.   My momma died birthin’ me and my dad died of the fever jus’ ‘fore the Yankees lost the Second Battle o’ Bull Run.  After that I was raised by Granny Poe, the oldest woman I ever saw.  She was tough on me but she taught me and showed me things o’ power.  She followed the old ways of the islands in the Carib.  I was happy to learn the things she showed me.When I was aroun’ 14, I escaped from the plantation.  Won’t tell you the things I had to do t’get away.  I escaped though and traveled west.   Managed to leave Confederate territory along the border o’Missouri.  I wandered ‘round for a time in the Disputed Territories.  Two years ago I ran into some trouble in a two bit hamlet northwest o’ Dodge City.  A couple o’ farmers’ wives were found brutally murdered.  ‘Course, the colour o’ my skin made me a candidate for a noose.  No trial.  No justice.  That’s about the time I met the Pastor, Mr. O’Donnell.I don’t know what he said or what he did, but he rode up out the darkness right up to the leader of the lynch mob.  He took him aside and said some words to him.   I was cut down and sent packin’ out o’ the hamlet.  The good Pastor saved my life, that’s for certain.  For that I owe him big.   We rode west together for a spell and parted ways in Denver.  Ain’t seen or heard from the good pastor in all that time.  ‘Till recently that is.  Now I'm riding into Billings, with the Pastor's letter in my right breast pocket...</blockquote>

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