Name: Maolsheachlann "Chancer" Molony
Age: Chronologically 266(Biologically in mid 20s)
Likes: Booze(Anything with alcohol including ethanol), drugs(Uppers, downers, screamers, laughers...), males, females, herms, video games, easy marks
Dislikes: Clerics, mages, the irs, commitment, staying in one place for too long, violence
Personality traits: Hedonistic, conniving, shifty, jovial, nomadic
Special Condition: Basic
Elemental Affinity: Ice
Elemental Proficiencies: No full-on proficiencies, but possesses knowledge of some fire, ice, psychic, and earth magics - only elementary spells that he's worked into being useful for his schemes.


Art by  junosunderland

Bio:
Born sometime in the 18th century, Maolscheachlann Molony - or Chancer as he prefers to be called, grew up in the complete squalor of poverty. His family never had quite enough to eat, the ghetto he lived in was rife with break-ins, and no hope of doctors if anyone were to get sick. His father was a deadbeat drunk intent on conducting a number of ill-fated ‘get rich’ schemes, and his mother was a hellfire and brimstone Mezionist to the core - seeing their predicament as The Juris’ divine punishment, content to work her peanut schilling job despite their destitute conditions. Meanwhile, all of his siblings were fellow hellions that failed to see eye to eye.

He learned very quickly that his world was very much based on the idea of survival of the fittest...or the most guileful in his case. By early adolescence, Chancer was running hustles, cutting purses, and soliciting donations using sappy tall-tales.

One day, a group of drunken scholars had wandered into his town - alumni bearing tomes of peculiar origin. One of these tomes reflected brilliantly against the sunset, lapis lazuli-tinged and embossed in pure gold. Such impressively decorated books caught the eye of the young stoat, elucidating a potentially profitable killing. The academics could barely walk from such drunken stupor, making them easy prey for Chancer’s scheme. Chancer, through the power of his finely honed silver-tongue, convinced the owner of the brilliant omnibus to lend him the book so the group could continue their irresponsible pub-crawl unencumbered.

His trickery a smashing success, Chancer now held in his possession an object that would surely fetch a rather sizeable pouch of shinies...until he accidentally casted a small jet of flames - that proceeded to burn down the inn he was staying at! Though now forced to sleep in the gutters again, he quickly realized the value of having a spell book in his possession. Not only did Chancer discover firsthand that magic and spell books by proxy were real, this tome was special.

This form of casting literature was none other than the Equinox Omnibus, a powerful item that could make even the most incompetent of mages at the very least - serviceable. Through trial and error, Chancer learned how to use the tome to his advantage - casting slick ice on the ground as a prelude to asking money for a shopkeeper’s alleged irresponsibility, using scant telekinesis to lift necklaces off necks, etc. Eventually, never being one to save, Chancer hocked the book for a special night at the pub; luckily for him, he had practiced enough to develop a tithe of mana while memorizing the simplest spells that were most applicable to his schemes.

Chancer made sure never to stay in any given town for too long, and used his acquired powers subtly - so as to avoid arousing suspicion. The stoat spent every coin, didn’t own anything beyond the clothes on his back and whatever he had in his pockets. Although Chancer freely gorged himself on the vices of alcohol, opium, and prostitutes - he always made sure never to be under the influence before a job or if he suspected that others were on to him. Chancer had mastered the art of larceny and in his own eyes - a king without a castle.

However, eventually even the guileful Chancer finally met his match at the hands of a peculiar old spice merchant. Thinking that the merchant was easy mark based upon them living in the shadier parts of town - far from authorities, Chancer made his move and attempted to rob the store - only to be cornered and apprehended by the elder. The elder soon revealed their true form as none other than the war god, Lenos. Lenos planned to dispose of the impudent thief, but then Chancer asked: “What is a war god doing selling spices in a dirty, brick-backed alley?” The god was stopped by the question, and proceeded to reveal that the incursion of Mezionism had stuck a sound blow against his faith base, forcing him into this undignified obscurity. Upon hearing this, Chancer realized he could bargain with the deity: in exchange for sparing him, the stoat would spread his word and help him regain power. Lenos was pleased with this proposition, feeling like he was once again in a position of power - which Chancer solidifying it with his seemingly agreeable and reasonable disposition.

It was then that Chancer asked that as a weak, mere mortal - how would he be able to help the god if he didn’t have sufficient help himself? Lenos agreed, and decided to bestow immortality on Chancer. Chancer halted aging from that point on and graciously thanked the god before setting off to spread his word...only to run off, and escape to the Kingdom of Doves; one thing he would hold himself over other con artists was the fact that he had successfully conned a god and lived - though consequently, he never returned to Eiry - out of fear that Lenos would seek revenge.

From then on, the world was Chancer’s oyster as even though he did not have much, he now possessed a surplus of the most valuable commodity: time. Chancer would live his limitless life in the stock of several lifetimes.

The stoat ran a brewery until he ran it into the ground. It could be said that it is unwise to be the maker and seller of a product one is actively addicted to.

A creature of carnal desires, Chancer took on work as a prostitute - bringing pleasure to commoners and nobility alike as long as the price was right; he quit upon realizing that some clients were beginning to grow an attachment to him.

Feeling squirrely, Chancer sailed aboard a trade ship that go on to be taken over by a crew of pirates. He became one of their crewmates to preserve his life until they stopped at a port he could successfully disappear into.

During one of the UTT’s scuffles with The Kingdom, he acted as a freelance spy for the former - accepting money in return, and drugs when they refused to pay him money.

The wandering conniver traveled to Rosina, Genji, Sam-Seoul, and other parts of the eastern world - selling the junk of the west as exotic treasures.

Chancer went to Virumania and worked to expose the scandals of the Mezionist church out of a mixture of both amusement and spite - leading to a schism that devastated the power base of the Divine Reman Dominion.

As befitting his chosen nickname, Chancer would prowl the streets of Lonten, causing enough trouble for the authorities to begin laying the groundwork for what would be the modern police force.

On the frontier of the UTT, Chancer’s magic-based conning would be sussed out by zealous neo-templars - leading to a situation where he was actively dodging the bullets of inventor and neo-templar, Doc Weekend.

He would go on to become the dreadful lead-singer of the punk band, The Chokers - where he would enjoy a lifestyle that actively fed his extreme hedonism; drugs, sex, and rock and roll - what’s not to love? Eventually, Chancer’s drug abuse was too much for his fellow drug-abusing bandmates, and he was kicked out.

Finally in the decades leading up to the modern era, Chancer took work as a model - never having been too shy to show off his pretty-boy looks. Chancer made it big, becoming world famous...but he was never too keen on having too much spotlight for too long and faked his death with an overdose.

In the present, Chancer lives entirely in the moment - scrapping the streets for easy money before blowing it all on alcohol, drugs, and sex. He claims to be free of emotional attachment, but the truth is that he’s exceedingly lonely and fears the development of relationships - due to the fact that he will ultimately outlive them.

Despite Chancer’s line of work, he has never thrown a single punch in his entire life. Although he claims to find such conduct to be simply ludicrous, the truth is that he objects to violence and suffering on both a moral and an emotional level. Though he was a dishonorable thief through and through, he only stole from those who could afford to lose.

Because of his powers, Chancer has recently caught the attention of Vita Hospital. Though they dislike Chancer’s exceedingly dishonest way of living, they see potential in him. Can they reach out, and draw out Chancer’s better nature?