Jeremiah Shenk
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Gunner
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Personal Information
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Full Name
Jeremiah Cornelius Shenk
Description
The industrial nature of Jeremiah's existence left him with little to do except grow stronger. Decades of hauling buckets of gunpowder and shouldering the recoil of massive weapons have left him with a impressive build that compliments his large height. It also gave him a distinct aroma of smoke, oil, rust, and blood that seems to have seeped into his bones, the signature stench of the Culverin gunsmiths and a point of great pride to him. His voice doesn't do him any favors either, being quite deep and far too loud with that strange accent, a result of both chemical exposure and his own occupational hearing loss. As such, most find him intimidating or at the very least difficult to be around. However, those who get to know Jeremiah find that he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He's a remarkably tolerant soul and can and will do his best to keep spirits high. Oddly, however, most races heavily involved in magic get the odd vibe from him that he's completely dead to it, almost as if they're staring at a slab of granite. Nobody, not even Jeremiah, can explain this except by pointing to his ethnicity.
Age:
24
Gender:
Male
Race/Main:
Human
Race/Sub:
Culverinic
Honorifics|Titles|Nicknames
The Cannoneer.
Sexual Orientation:
Heterosexual
Birthplace:
Culverin
Marking|Tattoos|Piercings:
Jeremiah’s entire body is covered in a network of scars, stains, singes, and stitches.
Height:
6’5
Weight
180 lbs.
Physical Condition:
Quite good. Years of hauling and loading weapons have given him a respectable build.
Former Residence
Culverin, Bombard District, Breach Quarter.
Family/Relatives:
Many brothers and sisters and a long-suffering mother.
Friends/Comrades:
Left them all back home.
Enemies
None, yet.
Rivals
His third eldest sibling, Jonathan.
Organizations/Tribes/Clans:
The Cannoneer’s Guild, The Culverin Gusmitherie and Armamentorium.
Former Affiliations:
None.
Disabilities:
Jeremiah has serious hearing problems from decades of exposure to artillery and other explosions. As a result, he tends to forget just how loud his weapons are, to the detriment of anyone within earshot at the time.
Personality:
Jeremiah is a ridiculously friendly human being. He’s enthusiastic to meet everyone, loves learning new things, and always has a ton of questions. Even in combat, he’s always got a manic grin plastered across his face. In fact, Jeremiah is at his best in the midst of a pitched battle. Gunsmoke is his incense, the roar of artillery his music, and the creation of wondrous new weapons his meditation, and nothing is as sweet as the taste of lead. As a result, however, he tends to unnerve people with passive natures. He also becomes bored remarkably easy, tending to busy himself anyway he can.
Likes:
Weaponry of any sort, the bigger the better.
Complex machinery, seeing the creation and use of it as an art form.
Dogs, having many as a child and generally getting along famously with them.
Blue.
Dislikes:
People who disdain guns, seeing them as hopelessly backwards.
Rain, as it fouls his weapons.
Rust, the bane of his existence.
Psychological Condition:
Jeremiah displays the stereotypes leveled against his culture: He’s manic and annoyingly friendly, dangerously obsessed with weaponry, and potentially a pyromaniac. He also, however, demonstrates the savant-like skill in warfare and remarkable inventiveness his culture is infamous for.
Alignment:
Chaotic Good.
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Equipment
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:Attire:
:Protection:
His leather outer clothes are waxed and have metal plates sewn into their lining, allowing for a good degree of protection from shrapnel and fire. His mask keeps his face from getting scorched off and his body free of airborne toxins and disease.
:Weapon(s):
Aside from being festooned with a myriad of pistols, derringers, bombs, and other projectile weapons, Jeremiah’s main weapon is a signature of his culture: The Volley Gun. A seven-barrelled monstrosity of a weapon, a single shot produces the equivalent of an entire musket volley, hence the name. Its report can cause permanent hearing loss, the muzzle flash is large enough that there is a legitimate risk of it causing things near the barrel to catch fire, and it can and will seriously injure someone not accustomed to firing it. It also takes a very long time to reload. He still uses it, however, because it turns his enemies to mulch and can blast holes in enemy ships.
:Accessories/Misc:
Jeremiah’s many pockets are filled with fuses, bullets, powder flasks, oil, and the many other tools and widgets needed to keep the weapons of the Phoenix in working order.
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|Abilities|Traits|Racial|
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Skills
Armament: Since Jeremiah’s entire life revolved around ranged weaponry, he is very good at recognizing make and model and how to both effectively use it and defend against it. He can reliably discern a ship’s nationality by the weapons it carries.
Chemistry/Physics: Jeremiah can create fantastic compounds for use in his weapons, from whistling purple fireworks to jars that spew toxic gas. If he could focus on anything other than guns, he could be called an alchemist.
Abilities: Jeremiah, like all Culverinic people, has absolutely no capacity for magic. He can’t even perceive its presence unless it’s specifically brought to his attention.
Racial Traits
Oh, Culverin. To list the many quirks of the eccentric little nation would take more time then the stars have yet burned in the sky. Anyone who have glimpsed a Culverinic ship, however, can tell you that they are ugly things: Bulky, loud, smelly, and bristling with weaponry, the average Culverin craft doesn’t look like it can remain airborne, let alone compete with the infinitely more refined shipbuilding of their neighbors. Anyone foolish enough to entertain that idea tend to be drowned in an avalanche of lead and fire.
Culverin itself consists of one massive island with a rocky and inhospitable climate, a rather pitiful looking area given over to the ancestors of the Culverin people after they were forcibly relocated from their much more fertile homeland, long since lost to them. It quickly became a dumping ground for criminals and other outcasts, including entire mercenary companies. The nation that conquered them, collapsed and forgotten centuries ago,was content to turn a blind eye to the ramshackle city springing up from the rocky cliffs. They were confident they had given them the most useless land possible and would not hear from them again. What the conquerors did not know was that the land was possibly the most resource rich area in the entire region, being little more than a densely packed monolith of ore, fuel, and minerals.
When they returned to check up on their vassals and claim their tithe, they found that the people on Culverin had turned their settlement into a respectable fort. Impressed by their rapid progress, the empire demanded a slightly higher tithe in exchange for more autonomy, hoping they could have a new industrial vassal to build the tons of equipment required for their large nation. This proved to be a mistake, as before they knew it, Culverin became one huge industrial complex. Towering factories produced enough smoke to blot out the sun, cannons the size of small buildings guarded oceans of oil and mountains of gunpowder. The nation of misfits had become a staggeringly powerful industrial nation, and it terrified everyone around them. The other nations of the world knew that if the fever of Imperialism ever took hold in Culverin, none could stand against them. They formed a coalition, and planned. It is not known what occurred in those years of subterfuge, but one day something detonated in the main arsenal. Whatever it was was strong enough to crack the island in half, sending the entire eastern portion of the island plummeting into the depths below. Culverin was destroyed overnight. Severely weakened, Culverin was left to suffer by the other nations. That was centuries ago.
Now, Culverin has rebuilt quite effectively. While they will never be as powerful as they once were, Culverin is one of the most powerful military powers in the known world. The island is now more artificial than not, having regained a portion of their land through generations of construction. Their fixation on weapons remains undiminished, and Culverinic weapons and ships are known the world over for their effectiveness and are greatly prized. Indeed, Culverin is one of the most technologically advanced nations around, a necessity given the complete lack of magic. Culverin, for whatever reason, actively destroys magic. Enchantments sputter and die the second they cross the border into the smoking city, and no spell has ever been cast inside its walls. AS result, magic is an alien concept to the Culverins, and while it is not distrusted, it is a source of confusion and apprehension to the material-minded folk. They would jump at the chance to research it and many a mage has gone to Culverin purely to answer questions for curious throngs of engineers.
Politically, Culverin is staunchly neutral and very cosmopolitan. Personal freedoms are held in high regard and people fleeing persecution or past crimes tend to wind up there. They are infamous, however, for the massive amounts of war material they export and design, furnishing most of the world’s militaries. In addition, Culverins are known for having a mercenary streak a mile long, hiring themselves out as elite artilleryman and sharpshooters to select clients. It is a lucky warship indeed that can boast having a Culverin in their crew. For their militaristic ways, however, Culverin is a surprisingly peaceful nation, having never been the aggressor in a military conflict, and is content to create and sell their wonderful inventions and tinker in peace. Woe betide any nation foolish enough to underestimate them.
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Current History
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Past History
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Jeremiah grew up in the workshops. It wasn’t a clean job or even a safe job, but it was his. A childhood of explosions and grinding gears was expected on Culverin and Jeremiah’s was no different. In fact, he had what would most of his peers would consider a remarkably boring life. To anyone else, the mere fact that he survived at all is a miracle. Decades of reckless inventing and manic gunplay passed by until he grew incredibly bored. He no longer wanted to simply build and test those glorious weapons he cherished. He wanted to see them used in the tumult of battle, and got his wish when he accidently blew a hole in a passing ship with his newest invention. The ship made an emergency landing, and was left floundering the drydock. Mortified, Jeremiah paid for the repairs almost all of his money. The captain inquired what exactly that gun was, and Jeremiah explained it was the Phoenix Cannon, a weapon that would allow any ship to rise from the ashes and incinerate their enemies. The only reason it hadn’t roasted the entire ship was because it wasn’t calibrated correctly, he admitted, and offered to fit the ship with the final product. The captain agreed and soon Jeremiah had signed up as a gunner, having spent enough money to fix the damages that he had little left at home. It wasn’t until he ordered the nameplate that he figured out that the name of the ship was. He laughed for days.
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