Lords of RPG

A Little Background

Zekial Kain Renard, son of Captain Elisha Jerome Renard of the Feron Jacob Empire, had been with Professor Deveroux's Carnival for a few years now. His current situation was a good fit and one he was lucky to be in. Between his part in the trapeze act and the tattooing booth they let him run, he had been able to save up some money as well as make some friends.

Even though he didn't enjoy being at sea, overall, he was happy with this situation. His part in the show put him in the spotlight, but far enough away that most townsfolk didn't recognize him specifically. Sure, they knew he was a part of the carnival...that part was evident, but not that he was "The Flying Renard", thus allowing him to mingle with the masses.

The Daily Routine

Most of the crew and carnival staff didn't know his last name or thought Kain was it...and he was content to let them assume as much. His father's reputation was not one he wanted for himself and the sooner he could permanently shed "Renard" the better.

Every day, for an hour at dawn and an hour at dusk Zekial Kain practices his martial style on the deck of the ship. Trained in his youth by his family's tutors, but never progressing past an apprentice level of competency, he none-the-less always kept up with his exercises. Keep your profile limited, hold your weapon in your forward hand, leave your back hand empty...repeat. 

While he practiced his martial art everyday, his ability as a tattooist was his true passion and a great side job. For some reason, using a person's skin as a canvas fulfilled something deeper. He would spend hours with sailors, carnies and others on the ship, letting them describe the tattoo they wanted or the concept they wanted the tattoo to represent, while they traversed the long distances between ports. 

Upon smooth seas or landing at port, Zekial will sketch out an idea on thin rice paper. After showing it to the client and getting approval, he uses the sketch as a template while inking their skin. The process takes less time, is more precise and has greater detail. While his skill as a tattooist is commendable, it is really Zekial's ability to perceive and interpret the ideas his clients have into pieces of art they wear on the canvas that is their skin that stands him apart. 

The Carnival Crew

The navigator, although a bit creepy, was a good client and Zekial liked him. Timm was in for three tattoos in five months and he tipped well. Since then, most of the sailors had come to Zekial for a tattoo of the "Lady of the Sea", following in Timm's footsteps and with his encouragement. Other than Timm, the whore had come in for a small tattoo on her wrist...the one who turned out to be a witch. He didn't mention that to anyone...she had been nice to him...seemed best to shut up about it. Merielle, Golov, Victoria...they had all gotten tattoos, and the ink always told a story.

His tattoos were thoughtful, precise and beautiful...but also reminiscent of something deeper...of morals and decisions, of greater things and lesser, of righteousness and fools, of animals and genius. The canvas, the person or soul upon which he painted, should fit the picture, the scene, the words that were imprinted...he was sure of that much...but so unsure of where to go, where to look, where to find the answers he sought. 

Working Late

He looked up from the table as he cleaned the needles he had been using that day. The large figure ducked into the tent and sighed before speaking. "Good, you're still here. I need...", The huge man went on to describe a tattoo, done with a special ink, that he had on him. He needed the tattoo done at midnight, tonight but still needed a sketch first. 

Zekial raised his hand to refuse. It was already late and the ships were leaving tomorrow afternoon at high tide, he had to finish cleaning, pack his tent and port it all back to the ships. The professor didn't let him run his tent for free and every extra was charged for...and that's when the gems clinked onto the table. Each one the size of a Targ's thumb, each one already cut...and from what he could see, flawless...seven in total. 

Trying to Leave

"Go find the fuckin Flying Renard and get him fucking back here right fucking now!!!" Victoria yelled from the deck as she tried to get the ship ready to leave. They only had two hours once high tide came in and she'd be damned if the fuckin flying Renard was going to hold them up!

...but it didn't matter. Zekial Kain was barreling down the dock at that very moment, pushing his cart, poorly packed and barely strapped, but not so late as to be left behind.

"Thanks Vicki!", he said as he passed her a gem, eyes sunken from staying up all night, stupid grin on his face from having done it and stumbling gait of someone high on life and low on sleep; "I think I'll go find a cot and sleep for a while...unless you have other ideas?"

"Get your shit stowed and go to bed you fool!" She yelled with only the slightest hint of a smile, or maybe it was a scowl.

<Zekial has the Einhander feat and that is part of his martial arts history and the basis of what his daily practice is. By class, he's a Monk, but he is a tattooist by background. Based on some guidelines Mark sent me, I'm just shaping him a little more...he doesn't have to pick a specialty until lvl 3>