Name: Richard Corey
Gender: Male
Race: Gnome (The bright, slightly mad kind, not the kind that just steals alcohol.)
Skills:
Major: Sleight of Hand
Minor: Lying, Metamagic
Inventory: A leather suit (recently noticed to be quite uncomfortable); An assortment [5-6] of small daggers (used mostly as distractions); A jaunty hat; three [3] decks of cards: one tarot, one playing, one trick-playing; A slightly enchanted bag which can carry about 1.5 times as much as it should be able to.
background: R. Corey was once a ragamuffin in one of the less well-lawed towns beyond the forests. Not very dangerous; a witty class clown and petty thief-for-the-sake-of-thieving. If his loving parents had ever heard the word, they would have proudly called him "Puckish." He has a natural talent for magical theory which he only cares about insofar as it can help him out of tight spots on occasion, and a preternatural talent for "mundane" magic -- card tricks and bilking people. Of course, when he managed to bilk the mayor of his town, an act which went undiscovered for the ten minutes it took him to get home, and then spent the next 48 hours being quite thoroughly discovered, he had to exile himself. Now he's in Halley, hoping more than anything to find something to do.
(I'm a bit new to this, but I think I've got the hang of it already, or at least close enough for nuclear warfare horseshoes Devastating Magical Blasts Directed At Coming Closest To Wrapping Around A Pole.)