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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mr. Unlucky" data-source="post: 1233609" data-attributes="member: 15387">Submitted for your approval....Name: Lloyd Jerome BellSex:MaleHeight: 5'4"Weight:150 lbsAge: 33STR 16 +3DEX 10 +0CON 14 +2INT 10 +0WIL 10 +0CHA 14 +2Template: Bartender (again, your approval)Offense OptionBAB +3Fort +5Ref +1Will +1HP: 2D6+12AC: 10Sanity: 50**Skills**Bluff +7Diplomacy +4Gather Info +6Innuendo +3Intimidate +8Knowledge: Local +4Listen +4Sense Motive+6Spot +5--------Jump +6Climb +6Craft: Mixology (bartending) +3--------**Feats**TrustworthyImproved InitiativeMartial Artist (street boxing; learned pre-Marquis of Queensbury Rules)*** Weapon Proficiency: knife---------Physical Description: short, thick, and happy. Judging by the myriad of tattoos across his body, he's seen work in some navy or another; the scars on his knuckles say it was probably not a pleasure cruise. Flaming red hair, cut into a somewhat unruly mop, with a broad handlebar mustache waxed to the point of a candle, and wearing a truly worn English bowler. The typical mode of dress for him is the essentials; a worker's button-style one-piece, or a white broadcloth shirt, black slacks, and a pair of sturdy work boots.A wire-thin scar runs around his neck at the collar, usually with a handcast crucifix on a sterling silver chain over it. Background: Born and raised for twenty years into a traditional Irish-American family, he knew education to twelve, and work ever since. No shame to a lack of higher education, as his school extended beyond the walls of any one building. His father was a bartender in his own bar, and his son's hands made for short work, both for dirty floors and glasses, but also for troublesome drunks and tourists. He learned to bend an ear and bend his back to help, or hurt, as the case went. From his mother he learned how to fight; in his neighborhood, the women were rarely involved in fights, but some still spoke of the Razormaid, who wore a razor on each finger of her gloves, and kept lips and ears in jars. The prize his mother won in a fight was his father, as the case went. She taught him "..to swing first, but to think first. Draw your fist and send it home, but never let your tongue fall off for not using it, lest you be a bully and a drunk. Just be a drunk, if it must be one or the other..."Taking the money he'd earned, and arranging transportation to Chicago, he found himself another job; late night janitor of several museums and university buildings. His trusting smile, honeyed tongue, and sharp eye have kept him clear of most troubles. Trespassers were already rare enough; what few get by are usually steal nothing he was allowed access to, anyways. The Rare Book Rooms are still off-limits, but access is always just a few lines of sweet lies away. His other, less fun, reputation on the campus' administrations, is a troubleshooter. Worrisome burglaries? Send in the janitor. Irksome professor's dalliances getting out of hand? Send for the cleaner. Need a few 'friends' over for a special dinner? Call for him. One recent 'problem' he'd fixed was a professor who'd left another female student aide running from his office in tears after but a few minutes with him. Some say his advances were not returned, and this caused him to threaten her already tenuous position at the school. Enter the janitor; his reputation, thought to be trivial, means something to those in distress. Twenty dollars was paid.Ten minutes after he entered the professor's office, the professor left in tears, begging for forgiveness. No one knows exactly what was said or done in that room, but the student aide still sends him a tray of walnut/chocolate cookies every week for his work, with a note attached. Some say it's lover's poetry, and they're to be wed in the next two years. But, that's gossip, and unfit for civilized ears. Surely.His only vices are an occaisional drink, black walnuts, and a cigarette or two, to settle his nerves. Evenings are spent in quiet pursuits, such as crosswords, old books, and cleaning his somewhat small apartment, or taking his dog, Conner, for a walk to downtown and back. A simple, happy man.Savings: $2,000Income: $1,000</blockquote>

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