'''Name:''' Corinth "Corwynn" Wynngate*
'''Age:''' 44
'''Race:''' galdori
'''Place of Origin:''' Vienda, Anaxas

!!!Backstory:

Like most of his kind, Corinth was born into affluence and society an only child, though the silver spoon hid in its reflection an entire place setting of tarnished goods. His father, Aeric Wynngate, owned and operated an entire ward of manufacturing plants in the Soot District. Sheet metal, or so everyone was led to believe. Most were, actually, quite legitimate, but hidden between the lines in the books and in the buildings of humming machines was a small weapons manufacturing operation. Secret and very small, Lord Wynngate had a passion for the craftsmanship of interesting firearms and eventually ended up in the business. Pistols on the edge of technological production, finely crafted in the heart of Vienda under everyone's nose. For two generations.

His mother, Elenya, was—bless her unassuming heart—old money, an arranged marriage, and more than just a little clueless as to the goings-on underneath her own family's pristine, well-maintained exterior. Corinth grew up under her flighty care, doted on and spoiled. He grew up in the lap of luxury, all the while developing an uncanny skill for marksmanship. Little did the boy know the weapons his father taught him to use and enjoy were made in his family's name, at least not for quite some time. He passed his examination into Brunnhold with a lower than expected score and coasted along in his classes, preferring sports to studying, application to theory, illicit behavior to proper pursuits. If he excelled in any discipline, it was Physical magic, but the young man may have spent more time sneaking into the girls' dorms than in the Library in his decade of campus residence. In fact, the blond earned quite a reputation as a ladies' man, breaking hearts with a careless abandon only reserved for the privileged and aloof.

It was only a few years after graduating that everything fell apart.

Corinth had begun to take the reigns from his father, slowly and carefully integrating himself into the business while at the same time living on the edge of acceptable behavior with lavish parties and random, expensive trips to various corners of the world. If there was anything the young galdor loved more than women, wine, and aeroships, it was guns. Of any kind. The man was a natural; his marksmanship was more than just a hit at parties, it was ridiculous.

Lord Wynngate had happily supplied armaments to the highest bidder, unconcerned to the side they served under or the work they were used to complete. Apparently, one of his Resistance-minded employees took offense to his liaises-faire style of business. He squealed. Surprisingly enough, Anaxi government listened. Sort of. At least, it tried to.

The human never lived to appear in court. Inspections were inexplicably delayed, and when the Wynngate Sheet Metals, Inc. compound was raided, not a sign of weaponry manufacturing could be found. Everything appeared completely legitimate and the whole terrible scandal blew over with only a lingering reluctance. Something had happened ... That something cost Aeric everything, for it meant selling out to a single buyer—Silas Hawke. The growing, expanding Underground accepted Lord Wynngate's generous "investment" with open arms, erasing the scandal and scrubbing suspicion clean in order to protect their vested interest in his most excellent and dangerous manufactured goods. It might very well have been the Wynngates' weapons that helped secure the place the Bad Brothers so firmly hold in the Harbor now.

Corinth, having unfortunately settled into the comfortable conclusion that he'd be taking over his father's businesses upon graduation, was far from horrified at the change in regime. He was intrigued, enchanted, and corruptible ... and once Hawke got a taste of his marksmanship with any weapon put into his hands, his business sense, and his ready humor, he was hired.

Fifteen years later, Corwynn (as he's come to be called) is still a Bad Brother.

It was a rough ride somewhere near the middle, and it was an idle, listless sort of boredom that drove the gunman to seek the kind of trouble that cost him his left trigger finger (and ultimately, an entire hand for using a weapon) and sent him to sea for five years, still under Hawke's employment but a willing "exile." He came back to shore three years ago and has since spent his time returning things to as close to "as usual" as possible, reestablishing trust, and enjoying dry land and all it's ... accoutrements (specifically of the opposite gender).

!!!Personality:

If there is a single phrase to describe the galdor, "consummate rogue" would be it. He's cultured, calculating, and courteous, but all the aristocracy his upbringing fostered has long-since been washed over by the slow corruption of living among thieves and pirates in the Harbor and amongst the Bad Brothers. He's suave, flirtatious, easily distracted by beauty (oftentimes regardless of race), devious; but all of the illicit aspects of his personality seem to still be tempered by his galdori heritage as evidenced by his intolerance for disobedience and his lingering disdain for the "lower" races he has had to work side-by-side with for years (including, of course, the wick he works for, Silas).

A polished, casual sort of danger is his calling card, but his quick-to-smile countenance often disguises a listlessness he's never bothered to define.

After his betrayal and subsequent pardoning, Corwynn has managed to keep up the appearances of his debonair edge, but the galdor has private moments of self-doubt. Very private.

!!!Physical Description:

Corwynn is, in a word, pretty. Handsome would, strangely enough, not be his word of choice as a descriptor. He's maintained the appearance of youth and vigor into his middle age, and it's almost as if the fine lines that have begun to form in his features only serve to accentuate his almond-shaped, clear blue eyes, ready smile, high cheekbones, and chiseled, clean-shaven jawline. His straight, white teeth and delicate eyelashes may even serve to betray his actual age, giving him a younger appearance by almost a decade. The galdor would claim it's the salty air over genetics, but it would only be in hopes of appearing charmingly modest. He keeps his golden blond, curly hair short enough to stay out of his face, but long enough to have volume and bounce (especially in the breeze).

He's hardly tall at 5'6" with a well-maintained, lithe and narrow frame. He's come to enjoy a tan, despite the general cultural implications of too much exposure to the sun. Intricate, stylized tattoos of rolling waves decorate both his forearms from wrists to elbows in full sleeves of uniform dark navy ink; mementos of his time of exile at sea working off his personal "debt" to Hawke after his near-betrayal. Between his shoulder blades is his only other tattoo, also in navy ink: two matching, stylized pistols pointing upwards towards the base of his skull, barrel to barrel, framed by outstretched hawk wings.

Corwynn prefers to stay city-folk fashionable—he has a penchant for vests with interesting or unusual patterns, well-pressed shirts, complimentary pants, and jackets that allow him easy access to (and obvious views of) his pistol. He's been known to occasionally wear hats.

As punishment for his betrayal of Silas, his left hand has only four fingers with an ugly, puckered, discolored scar where his trigger finger once had been. He once carried two pistols, but because of his missing digit, he now only has one—an unusually long-barreled double-action piece that bears no sights as blatant testimony to his ridiculous aim.

!!!Inventory:

Weapons:
*Personally customized pistol (see above)
*Small knife usually worn hidden on person, either in a sleeve or right pant leg

Stuff:
*Personal estate in Vienda
*Wynngate Sheet Metals, Inc. in Soot District
*Satisfactory residence on the outskirts of Old Rose Harbor, near the sea

!!!Career

Marksman/Bad Brother/Businessman
*Aristocratic connections
*Management skills (sheet metals; gun manufacturing; Underground affairs)
*Stupidly uncanny aim with most projectile weapons, specifically pistols
*Access to The Little Black Book
*Sex appeal

!!!Goals

Continue to promote, protect, and prosper the Underground as both an investor and an employee. Advance the research and technology of fire arms. Shoot things impressively. Enjoy the company of as many interesting people as possible. Get some traveling in whenever there's a spare moment.

*ModPC, like Yulina

Like I need another PC, but I decided ... I might as well. He's taking on a life of his own.