Name: Theodore Higgs
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Time/Place of Origin: A village in the very south of England, 1496


Appearance: Cautious about attracting unwanted attention, Theodore appears to most as a fat, slightly crooked figure in a dark, stained cloak, most of his face covered by the hood. The only bit of skin visible is his chin, which is covered by an unevenly shaved and partialyl burnt beard, of a colour somewhere between red and brown. You can keep looking: he is unlikely to notice your gaze, too busy with his thoughts to note your interests.

If you dare come closer, he may remove his hood, revealing a round face, almost always grim and untrusting. His eyes, pond-green, sit deep in their sockets. Above the left is a brow; whatever had been above the right is there no more, replaced by an almost-cured burn. His nose, small, round and rather flat, is positioned unusually high, as is his mouth, leaving a large, broad chin. What remains of his hair is of the same red-brown colour as his beard, and is mostly on the back of his head, leaving the top of his forehead and the area behind his ears bare.

Finally, if you happen to be one of the lucky few whom he invites to his house you, you may get a chance to see him without his robe. Appearing even fatter than with his robe on, Theodore's short arms make him look almost silly. His fingers are short, and you may at first not notice that he is missing his middle finger and pinky on his left hand, and that his ring finger on his right is half-gone.

When not busy with any experiments, Theodore wears simple linen clothes, usually of the cheap and expendable type. Most tend to be a little too small for him, being bought before he had gained weight. His clothing for experiments is of much higher quality: a leather jacket, fitting him perfectly, equally well-suited leather pants, and gloves. Occasionally, for particularly dangerous experiments, he puts on a simple wooden mask, covered with iron on one side.


Bio: Being the child of a woman who was widely known as a witch, Theodore didn't have too fun a childhood. The identity of his father was unknown, making many of the children in the village consider the boy a spawn of the devil. Trying to prove that this was not so, he spent much of his time at church, soon learning how to read. Most of the books he had access to were about history, and even those were few. By the age of fourteen, the boy had read and reread most of the books in the church library.

Wishing to learn more, and hoping that the people in other villages would not know about how he came into this world, Theodore joined a caravan and travelled until he reached a somewhat larger town. There, he became a helper at the church, spending much of his time reading about the rules of the world. He had, until then, never thought about how the world works; now, on the other hand, it was all he could think of, trying to find out more and more.

His efforts were not taken well by most people. From `demonspawn' he had become `heretic', and things were looking grim. Realising that continuing like this would lead to him being killed, he fled the town, stealing some of the most interesting books. With these he travelled south, finding a nice place near the coast. There he bought a cabin, and set up his laboratory, at first trying to confirm or disprove the theories he found in books, but soon also making his own. He earned a living by advising herbs and other folk medicine for the ill, and by removing rust from metal.

It was at the age of 23 that Theodore really started to discover interesting things. Although he hadn't found the philosopher's stone, nor could he turn lead to gold, but he did make several interesting discoveries about the properties of matter. He wrote two books, `The Wonders of Iron' and `The Structure of Matter', and found himself welcome at the libraries in London, where he found even more information. The books of the Ancient Romans fascinated him, making him wish he had lived in that time.


Sample post: The villagers never seemed to grow tired of his `miracles'. Again and again, the alchemist did the exact same things, and again and again, the people were in awe of it. This time, it was a simple matter of removing some rather bad stains from a tablecloth. Wine, blood, fat, beer, and that was just the beggining. Had Theodore been using nothing but water, he would never be able to get rid of it all, but with one or two of the mixtures he had discovered, it proved simple, and had paid well -- a groat, enough to keep him alive for another two or three days. Not that he was in any need of money, having almost half an angel stashed away somewhere at home.

Thinking about the money made the man smile, all the possibilities of spending it coming to his head. Two new flasks was the first point on the list, but there was much more: some silver to experiment on, a little sulphur, maybe half a bag of that exotic salt one of his friends had shown him. He could remember that time very well: after a handful of it was thrown in the fire, the flames turned a bright green, and felt much warmer.

All those wonderful things would have to wait, though. At the moment, Theodore had a much rarer and more important task at hand. Washing had taken a little too long, and his patient, Lady Greenkin had probably been waiting at his door for a while. She was by far the most interesting person he worked with, and, as if that wasn't enough luck, she was rich, too. Her health, on the other hand, was rather poor, and was only getting worse. Bloodletting hadn't helped, nor had any of the herbal mixtures he had tried. Theodore was stumped, and was becoming rather concerned about there being any way at all of helping her. Stopping would also be problematic, and would hurt his reputation, but if she died while in his care, he would be accused of poisoning, and that would mean once again fleeing, this time from a place he had spent twelve years in, and where he was happier than anywhere else.

Turning to the little-tread road that headed to his house, Theodore finally came to the conclusion that had been trying to get into his head for months: he needed a break. It was wonderful to be able to let the girl eat various things and watch the effect, but those lead pills might have been a bad idea. A few months in London, she'd die, and he could find someone else to try interesting things on. Another patient like her and he could write another book, about the effects of metals on the human body; he could also write it now, but he hadn't found any beneficial effects yet, which wouldn't make for too interesting a book.

Without noticing it, Theodore had reached the porch of his house, and the girl was nowhere to be seen. The alchemist looked around, concerned, but there was nobody to be seen. He pushed the door, but it was locked, and he cursed, certain that if she came in (which already was rather unlikely) she would certainly not lock it behind her. With a vain hope that she had run off to the bushes for a minute, Theodore called out, his voice full of panic, ``Lady Greenkin! Please come!.. Melissa!''

After there being no reply for a minute, the alchemist took out the key, his hands shaking. It took him several seconds to fit it into the lock, after which he quickly turned it twice, pulling the door open, and then quickly closing it, forgetting the key outside. Hurriedly, he put a bar over it, then rushed to his book case, grabbing the most important books, and putting them in a bag, some pages starting to fall out due to such rough treatment. Theodore didn't care: he needed to get out, and fast. After the books came the metals, bits of silver, iron and copper, and some last remains of lead, and finally, he grabbed his pouch with money, hiding it under his robe.

Theodore had almost finished packing by the time the noise he had dreaded so much came. A knock on his door, heavy and foreboding. He could imagine what would happen next. ``Lady Greenkin has fallen ill, all because of your meddling. Die, murderer!'' her father would say, or maybe her brother, or lover. Then, he would be grabbed, and pulled to the village, the people gathering to watch the spectacle, nobody saying anything to protect him. Perhaps he could flee through the back door? But no, they would catch him, they would certainly catch him.

Taking a very uneven breath, Theodore put his bag of things down, walking over to the door and unbarring it. He didn't bother look through the eye, he didn't care who it was; it could just as well be Death himself standing at his door, and he would still open. The wood creaked as it turned on the hinges, and Theodore looked away for a second, only looking at the visitor when he was fully visible. Confused, the man sttared at his visitor, not recognising in him any of men he knew. It took Theodore a few seconds to fully examine the strange guest, but evenually he managed to force himself to say, his voice still somewhat uneven, ``Good day... I... Theodore Higgs, at your service.''