Fingal FryingPan XIV

Character info:
Name: Combee Chan
Appearance:  https://www.dropbox.com/s/65q1geclf459n0n/2013-07-06_00107.jpg
Age: 29
Server:  Balmung- 95% certain
Class:  Lancer -> Dragoon
Jobs:  Mains- mining and smithing.  Sides- fishing and probably cooking
Favorite food:  Squid


Likes:  Climbing, machinery, smithing, jumping, pointy sticks, the morning sun, coasts, flying ships, calculated explosions, moss, treasure.
Dislikes: Spicy food, the dark, deserts, giant birds, mislabeled bottles, taking baths, unexpected explosions, bathing, pouring a bowl of cereal before realizing there is only a spoonful of milk OH COME ON JUST THROW IT AWAY.


Perks:  Jumping, climbing, smithing, engineering, strategy, leadership, capitalism, negotiations, fishing, causing diversions, explosions, over-protectiveness, cooking breakfast.
Flaws:  Horrible penmanship, somewhat illiterate, temper, smells bad, gender confusion, arrogance, over-protectiveness, headstrong.


Backstory:
Deep, deep into The Black Marsh lies a swampy home to a small band of outlaw Miqo’te.  Generations ago, a refugee family of Moon Keepers went into hiding to escape accurate allegations of grand tax evasion.  While the crimes were committed long ago, the now larger  (and slightly cross eyed) family refuses to leave based on fears of exactly how much interest has compounded since the incident.

One particular night, on the 48th anniversary of Delmont'a and Sandrine’s shot-arrow wedding, a feast was presented before a large gathering of friends and family.  Two days after, Delmont'a began to question why there was still a little Miqo’te child sitting at his dinner table.  Four days after, he began to wonder if the parents were coming back to retrieve him.  Sandrine, now older and missing her own, did not mind the child’s stay, and convinced Delmont'a to let him stay on grounds of “he’s likely family.”  To this very day, they never bothered to ask exactly who the child belonged to.  Nor did the child ever mention who his (or her? tests continue to be inconclusive) parents were.  When asked for a name, the child said only, “Combee,” which is likely made up.  When asked for a last name, the child said only, “I forgot," which is likely true.

To anyone outside the swamp, the question of lineage would have been clear.  There is none.  The difference in skin tone and facial features would be easily spotted.  But, had it not been for Combee’s hatred of baths and the few inches of swamp-muck caked on his face- the elderly couple’s failing eyesight may have discovered this.  Scent or smell was never an issue;  everybody stank.  The swamp smells.  The homes smelled.  The families smelled.  Combee especially smelled.  The only single, solitary, pleasant aroma would have been Sandrine's cooking, for any trader who ventured toward the meeting spot knew: Sandrine's Super Spicy Gumbo would send you out of this world.  Some say, the secret ingredient is a highly concentrated mixture of gunpowder and fire crystals.  Which may be true, if anyone was able to handle such a volatile mixture and come out conscious.  The only somewhat successful, non-lineage attempt to recreate the substance came from Combee.  With illegal scraps and rare metal bartered from cross-sea traders- the little tinkerer managed to use the gumbo as fuel.  Unfortunately, it was his Battle-B MK04 which caught fire and caused The Great Swamp Gas Explosion of the 3rd year.

Combee was sentenced to 5 years community service with a strict restriction of no metalworking.  After two years of being quite bored out of his mind, he stowed away aboard a merchant caravan on route toward Gridania.