Issac Flintheart, the Gambler

Name: Issac Flintheart
Appearance: http://www.shadows-over-greyhawk.com/wiki/images/8/84/Albrecht.png
Alias: The Gambler
Race: Halfling
Alignment: Evil
Look: Shifty Eyes, Wild Hair, Fancy Clothes, Fit Body

Level: 2

Stats: 16(+2) in Intelligence, 15(+1) in Charisma, 13(+1) in Constitution, 12(+0) in Wisdom, 9 (+0) in Strength, 9 (+0) in Dexterity.

19 HP, 17 Load, d6 damage

All According to Plan:
When you get into danger in a location where you or someone loyal to you has had time to prepare, roll+Int. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7-9, hold 2. On a miss, hold 1, but something goes horribly wrong, the GM will tell you what. When you spend hold:
•	Something explodes or hidden allies attack; deal your damage to all enemies in the trap.
•	A passage opens up or is sealed off.
•	A convenient distraction makes an ally’s failed Hack and Slash, Volley, Defend, or Defy Danger work as if they rolled a 7.

Monologue:
When you give a grandiose speech about your plans or motivations (actual or made up), roll+Cha. On a hit, you have the full attention of your audience, and they are unable to do anything until you stop talking. On a 10+, your speech builds up to a climactic action, you gain +1 forward to any move you make at the end of your speech. On a miss, you should have kept your mouth shut.

My Loyal Servant: http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/eb20061113_warforged.jpg
You have a servant, describe them. They are a hireling with no cost and no skills, and you do not need to make a Loyalty move to make them do something dangerous. Your servant can never permanently be lost, although getting them back may require some work.

- Morris is a rusty, clanking Warforged Issac won in a rigged poker game in some backwater mining town. His paintwork is patchy, some of his parts have been replaced with wooden prosthetics and he has a nasty tendency to leak steam from one of his elbows. But he was once a loyal butler to some rich toff, and thus lives to serve his "master" - Issac, to be precise. Never speaking, never doing anything unless Issac tells him to, Morris's utter silence and lack of independant motive gives no indication of what lies within that dented brain case.

It Was Me All Along!:
When you go undercover, roll+Cha and then disappear from play. At any time, you may declare a minor NPC to actually be you. On a 10+, explain what undercover deed you managed to accomplish while in disguise. On a miss, your disguise was compromised at some point - the GM will tell you the consequences.

Dungeon Rations (5 uses, 1 weight)

Short Sword (Close, 1 weight)

Parrying Dagger (+1 armor, hand, 1 weight)

Hand Crossbow (Near, Reload, 1 weight) and Quarrel of Bolts (3 ammo, 1 weight)

2 Molotovs (Near, Thrown, Dangerous, 1 weight each)

Background:
What's the matter, kid? You lookin' at me like you never seen a Halfing before. Or at least, one like me. Yeah, I know how it goes. Halflings are supposed to be either peaceful farmers livin' with the land or swanky barons holding lavish dinner parties. You know what I call that? Bullshit, that's what it is. My ol' man, before he bit the dust, he told me not to end up like those Goldworthy bastards - rottin' on comfy cushions whilst the world went by them. And if there's one thing a Flintheart don't like, it's not seein' a world that's goin' round and around and constantly changing.

Nor is it bein' left at the bottom. 'Cause Lady Luck is kinda particular who she smiles on, ya know? First night outside the valley, I gets mugged and washed up in the gutter of some backwater minin' town whose name I can't remember. But as rough as the world is, the Flinthearts are rougher, and I didn't lie down and die like most folks would. I fought back, and I got mean and tough when the world got mean and tough on me. I learned to gamble, to cheat and to swindle. I learned how to tell a loaded dice from a good one, how to talk smooth when things went well, and how to improvise when they didn't.

You wanna make it anywhere, you gotta use every trick in the rulebook and stab as many backs as you can to climb up the pile. So what if I'm a wanted hobbit in five different districts now? So what if I pissed off more city watches and mayors than I can rightly remember! I'm a free man, doin' what I please! A reputation's a fair price for livin' like a man, and not like a garden gnome in some kid's sappy picture book. And if I gotta get my blade dirty or slip out the poisoned arrows, then so be it. I ain't afraid to spill blood.

Now shaddup and deal your cards, kid. Oh, and Morris? Gimme another beer - tonight might be a lucky night, I feel!