Name: Tommy Gil
Age: 23
Occupation: freelancer
Genre: fantasy
Rough description: black hair, unkempt, with scruffy stubble, blue eyes, 5'8"; sneaky, shifty, on the skinny side

More:
Tommy Gil almost always tries to take the easy way out, and it usually ends up making life more difficult for him. Born to wealthy parents with high expectations, it didn't take him long to settle into a life of sponging off their assets -- at least until they cut him off. Now he scrapes for whatever honest -- or not-so-honest -- work he can find, though he never stopped hunting for a scheme that would lead him back to his life of leisure.

Sample:
"H-hey, wait," he said, scrambling for his footing before she could get too far.

The woman half turned to face him, looking entirely as though she'd forgotten he was there.

"I apologize," she said. "I could not retrieve both you and your horse."

"Uh, well, thanks for picking me, I guess," he said, peering past her at the thorny tangle where he'd been moments before. "What -- uh, what happened, exactly?"

"The stone you took housed a malevolent energy. It draws on the energy network of the earth to reproduce and devour yet more." She started walking again, setting a brisk enough pace that he had to trot to keep up with her.

"I'm telling you, I didn't take it."

"It was in your possession."

"Well, I don't remember taking it."

She looked at him, forehead creasing just the slightest bit. "That is no longer important. I must find Morris in Gilten."

"Gilten, huh?" He peered at her, mind working furiously.

He wondered if it was the same Morris he knew, a priest -- but somehow still an all-around decent guy. He looked at the woman again -- a construct, judging from her bizarre skin and hair -- and felt his skin crawl at the sight of her missing arm, the stump still dribbling a thick, green fluid.

"Uh, shouldn't you do something about that?" he said. "I mean -- bandage it or something?"

"It will seal in time. My employer will have to repair it upon my return." Her forehead creased again, but she said nothing more.

He gave it only another moment's consideration before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Hey -- why not let me come with you? You're taking the road, right? I know a shorter route."

She glanced at him sideways, frowning. "I require no assistance. I can move with much greater speed without you following me."

"But you still wouldn't know my faster route," he pointed out. "I mean -- time is of the essence, right?"

She frowned at him again, then her expression cleared, and she cocked her head, gaze going distant. "Very well," she said after a moment, then returned her attention to him. "My employer says that I'm to utilize your shortcut. He also wishes me to inform you that should you attempt to disable or sell me, I am authorized to respond with deadly force."

"Oh." He blanched, his machinations stuttering to an abrupt halt. "I -- of course -- I wasn't even thinking about --"

"We will have to run," she said.

"Huh?"

"If you cannot keep pace with me, I will carry you."

She caught hold of his arm, and before he could utter a sound of confusion or objection, she had started to run.

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