James Brownstone
TUMB 01/1,2, 3
Also called The Granite Ghost.
Ugly - (looked like half-ogre). Mottled patterns and ridges on his face. Voice low and deep, gruff, sounded like an old jet engine and a steamroller having rough sex.
Photographic memory, and does not know the Ishidas. Always took notes of anything important. He didn’t need notes, but he couldn’t risk that some sort of injury or special magical attack might cost him that quality. A notebook represented a nice redundant intelligence source that he could always burn—and later reproducePractices telekinesis.
Owns dog, Leeroy, who Alison found, returned to him. Drives black Ford F-350 extended-cab, gleaming paint job, high tires. (Older vehicles better. Less crap to hack). Nothing calmed him like the sound of his revved-up engine. Got a wonderful feeling of power he got when he revved his old Ford. Grew up in an orphanage, so didn’t know crap about fathers who weren’t the Catholic priest kind.
Lived in an older wood-frame place. Plenty of space for him, and a nice upstairs loft he used for storage. Used a physical lock. Most people on his block had gone to smart locks—more tech to hack and fail. Extender drones could even do it remotely With a physical lock, you had to kick it open. Or blow it open. Both made noise, though—and noise would alert him that someone was there to kill him. A closet stood right next to the front door, and shoes and boots sat in a neat line on a multi-tiered shoe rack inside. Loves his leather jacket. Every pile of papers was where it should be, with no dust. There was a sealed weapons locker with a palm sensor in an alcove behind the St Jerome painting. Put his gun, knife, and necklace inside it. Didn't wear his necklace unless he had to.
Likes BBQ cooking, his favorite show: Barbecue Wars: New Generation. “We don’t see a lot of non-human competitors on Barbecue Wars: New Generation, so I’m excited to see what magic this Elf pit-master can bring to the competition.” (If he’d been born thirty years earlier, he wouldn’t have to deal with this barbecue sacrilege.(favorites are the Carolina-style sauces. Vinegar and peppers are the keys there, though mustard’s important in South Carolina-style. Lots of variations though, even at the regional level. ) Likes Pork Gods BBQ (TUMB 01/13) Likes Jessie Rae's in Las Vegas. “Best damn barbecue on any planet.” (TUMB 01/13
Likes Irish Stout.
He kept to the philosophy of KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid). But a world going to shit more and more each year, maybe it’d help to reward a kid who’d gone to the trouble of calling him about his missing dog. It wasn’t that he cared about hurting these assholes—he didn’t mind taking down people who deserved it—but killing people, even scum, complicated his life…and that violated KISS. Sometimes the best way to KISS was to go all-in. No nuances meant no misunderstandings.
Bounty hunter (Could go find myself some rogue-ass Elf assassin and I’d make a shit-ton more money.) Always checking surroundings. He checked his mirrors for suspicious vehicles, drones, or shimmering spots of air. It was hard to guess anymore what kind of tools an individual criminal group might utilize, mystical or otherwise. To the bounty hunter, there was nothing simpler than a Catholic church. You knew exactly what to expect when you entered one, and what kind of people might be inside. This contrasted with the Church itself, one of the most complicated social organizations in history. Confesses weekly. Keeps up his contacts- meeting in bars, etc.
Artifact hunter. Meets with Doctor F.J. Smite-Williams, Professor of Historical Extra-Dimensional Engineering, which was a fancy way of saying he studied magical artifacts, other wise known as The Professor, or Father McCartney.
TUMB 01/4, 5 James knew all too well how the past could sink its claws into a person and refuse to let go, dragging them down to an abyss of personal suffering. We all grew up reading about history and science, and what could happen and couldn’t—and then we find out it’s all bullshit, and that magic is real. In a sense, everything we’ve known…the truths humanity’s known and told each other for thousands of years were all lies.” “Makes you wonder what that means for the future. There’s still so much we don’t know about Oriceran, and it’s changing everything over here. I see it every day on my job. Fuck, that’s why every country needs bounty hunters now. World-class cynic.
TUMB 01/9 When going to kill the Harriken, James cracked his knuckles and stuck his hands in his pocket, then strolled down the street humming The Volga Boatman. He wasn’t sure why he chose that song. It just seemed like a good tune to kill a bunch of men to.
TUMB Philosophy concerning Oriceran and Earth. You’re not gonna be able to bring a lot of people from a very different place to a new place without trouble. Maybe the trouble smooths out and everything ends up better overall…or maybe it doesn’t. Not really my problem.” “Figuring that shit out is above my paygrade. And besides, trouble’s good for business.”
TUMB 01/17 The Necklace: A silver necklace connected to a circular gold and silver amulet rested inside. Three crystals—azure, crimson, and jade—were inlaid into it. It was something he’d owned since he was a child. Every time he put it on, he couldn’t help but feel inhuman. It had to be all twisted and complicated Oriceran crap. The damn thing’s very touch burned until it finished joining with him. James sucked in a breath, not looking forward to having to smell and hear his own flesh sizzling. None of that seemed normal or acceptable, even by Oriceran standards. Apparently, no one knew why he had the necklace. His parents had died or abandoned him, and then the only man he’d ever thought of as a father had died as well. That suggested there was dark magic behind the item, maybe even a curse.If magic was real, curses could be real too. Since the necklace might be cursed, James couldn’t take the chance of it hurting anyone else. It was his burden, and his weapon
TUMB 02/1 Never had a mother that he could remember. Believes that his life had gone south from the beginning.
