Name: My name's Dirk Redfoot, the dame had that right. Wasn't too hard, of course; said as much on the door to my office, right above "Private Investigator".
Race: All being a Dwarf means in this city is that it's that much easier to punch you in the groin.
Physical description: I'd been down on my luck lately; my favorite gray trenchcoat had been splattered with so much mud, blood and vomit, it was turning into my favorite brown trenchcoat. When I finally stumbled out of my office to get to work, I pulled my long-brimmed fedora down to shield my hungover eyes from the lamplight. Stopping in a sheltered alley to light up a smoke, my hand jumped to the wands I keep in my shoulder holster when I heard a sound from behind. It just being a stray, I pulled my coat tight against the drizzle, and set back out into the garbage heap we call New Salem.
Class: You might say I'm a Wandman for hire, and you wouldn't be wrong. Wand's are an expensive habit, but, way I see it, dying costs more.
Reason for joining: What can I say? I needed the money. And I'm not one to turn down a pretty dame. At least, I think that elf was a dame...
Goal/Desire: What did I want? A drink. Long term? Some answers, a gun and a ticket for two out of this dump.
Skills: Being a PI isn't easy; one day you're looking for a runaway spouse, (Investigation/Research 2, Tracking 2) and the next, you're facing down a bunch of thugs in an alley with nothing but the wands your mama gave you, (Wand use 2, Wand making 1) leaving you wishing you were back at your favorite stool at Lou's, the best place to get a drink strong enough to put hair on your palms. (Location Knowledge 3)
Backstory: The dame had asked about my past. It was a dark place that I prefered to only enter with the bright light of alcohol by my side. My mama, may she rest in peace, she raised me by her lonesome on a plump helmet farm just out of the Mountainhomes. I never my father, the only thing mama ever told me about him was that I got my liver from him, and that's only when she had been hitting the plump helmet wine hard. When she was sober, she taught me a bit of wand crafting, said I would need it if I ever wanted to make something of myself.
I stayed with my mama as long as I could, but the Mountainhomes went to war, and called on me to fight. I did somethings to get back home to my mama that I'd rather forget in the bottom of a bottle, but that's war for you. Of course, when I get home, I find out that mama died. With nothing left for me in the Mountainhomes, I packed up and headed to the big city. New Salem.
I wasn't much of a wandmaker, but I kept myself fed. That's when I met Susie. She was a beautiful dame, hips like nothing you've ever seen, but with expensive tastes. I never knew why she fell for chum like me in this ocean of men. Wandmaking wasn't quite paying the bills as much as I'd liked, so I started doing some... oddjobs on the side. A bit of under the table money for a hired wand never hurt anyone, least of all me, I thought. Boy, was I wrong.
It was, as all things that go horribly wrong, a simple job. Walk in, shake down the target, walk out. How was I supposed to know the guy liked trolls? It ended up with me sleeping like a baby on the gutter without the fun of getting drunk, and constant hits against my shop and home until I backed off the job. For me, the last straw was Susie. Just up and vanished in the night. I tendered my resignation very quickly after that. The shop destroyed, I set out to find Susie. Over the years, I've gotten very good at finding people who don't want to be found, but she was always better...
Even in this city, being a PI doesn't pay much, so I take some work on the side. Most of the time, there's not much to it. I knew the moment the dame walked in the door, that this wouldn't be one of those times...