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Silvio Corsetti: What A Welcome!


Cold. Dark. Damp. Silvio blinked. He pushed up-and a fresh rush of cold air greeted him. "Pah! This snow tastes awful!" He wiped the snow off his face with one hand as he steadied himself with the other. "One, two, and-three!". A quick hop up.

Wind and snow combined to blur his vision as the skies rumbled overhead. Silvio put both hands on his hips as he looked around, confusion clear in his raised brows. A wave lapping the shore caught his eye-and then he saw it. The wreckage. What remained of their ship drifted further into the sea, their cargo along with it. "Shit! My scales! My kits!". Spurred into action, Silvio ran towards the shoreline as fast as the snow would allow. His pack clung to a jagged shard by the strap, as if the obsidian shard decided to wear it.

"That...could be so much worse." Lifting his pack off the spire, he opened it immediately. All his gear-his scales, his kit, his lustergrapher-all there, all intact. A sigh of relief and a half-smile. "Lady Luck loves me-as she should. Who could resist? Now...where is everyone?"

Brushing the snow out of his hair, then off his clothes; he started forward-then he froze as shouting rang out through the din. I'm not the only one! Thank Suvid! He picked up the pace-then hit the deck as gunshots rang out! "Pirate hunters!"

Silvio half-crawled, half-scrambled to the first piece of cover he saw, a large stone. He peeked over the stone and ducked down almost immediately. Heart pounding, lungs burning; he looked around. Some faces he recognized immediately. Kazik, for one, clutching a smoking gun.

"Alright, we're being shot at. Not the first time for me, but definitely the closest. Definitely the closest. And I can't cower behind this rock forever-I think. What to do, what to do..."

As he continued to whisper to himself, he felt a metaphorical lantern turn on. That's it! Confuse them! Worked in Mullin, and it'll work here! Or my name isn't Silvio Corsetti!

He peeked once more over the stone. More shots. Some shouting. Silence. Whether out of bravado, fear or both; he whispered to himself, "Lady Luck, don't leave me now." One. Time slowed down. He brushed the snow out of his face once more. Two. He put on his best panicked expression. Quick breath. Three.

Silvio Corsetti dashed out from behind the stone, hands up, shouting at the top of his lungs "My saviors! Don't shoot, don't shoot! I'm unarmed!" He ran for the nearest living Royal Navy sailor and ducked behind them. "Oh, thank you, thank you! Those awful pirates kidnapped me and threatened to kill me! You'll help me, won't you?"




Name: Silvio Corsetti

Age: 23

Gender: M

Sexuality: Straight...mostly

Class: Merchant

Stats:

10 Strength
14 Dexterity
8 Willpower
14 Toughness
14 Speed
4 Luck

Class Skill: Despoil

Skills:

Friends in All Places: For one reason or another, usually through drinking or competition or both, Silvio knows someone wherever he is.

Fine Print Specialist: From growing up, Silvio's got an eye for making and finding loopholes in contracts.

Escape Artist: His speed and dexterity, coupled with constantly pulling pranks, meant both a need and a knack for getting out of situations quickly.

Jockey: Riding horses was the only way to get around the countryside of Zuria in any reasonable time, and Silvio spent a lot of time riding.

Equipment:

Throwing Knives
Lustergrapher
Merchant's Scales
Forgery Kit

Personality: Impulsive, oblivious, gregarious, proud, overtly friendly, all about fun and partying; secretly longs for genuine attachment, for people that value him rather than his money. Not always the sharpest tool in the shed-especially when it comes to memorization, and wears his heart on his sleeve. Always looking presentable is a major concern for him. Quick with a joke-usually a barb-and an offer to drink or to compete. Proud of his skills and achievements, will brag unprompted, like most Fioretzans. Views new challenges as a thrill, be it party dares or things he hasn’t tried before.

Background: Born under the auspicious stars of December 8th, 1756; or so he was told. Silvio Corsetti, the middle child of the Corsetti banking family, grew up in the province of Astiazza, West Fioretza. His open-hearted demeanor differed from that of his polite yet stoic older brother Fernando and his younger brother Lorenzo, considered a downright prodigy. With Fernando the presumptive heir to the family bank, and Lorenzo the favorite (according to Silvio); Silvio went out of his way to prank, trick and generally mess with his family and friends. His mother attempted to teach him to act with decorum-it didn’t stick. Her cooking lessons, however, stuck. His father brought him in to teach him the family business-appraisal, contracts, exchange rates. Some of it stuck-mostly finding loopholes and appraising metals.

Uncle Giovanni and Aunt Claudia moved to the Zurian countryside before Lorenzo was born. They always came back for birthdays and holidays, with gifts and stories and new pranks that Giovanni showed Silvio. On his 15th birthday, Uncle Giovanni asked Silvio if he’d like to live with them. Silvio walked out the door right then and there, only remembering to grab some stuff to travel with after Aunt Claudia shooed him back in the door.

Life in the countryside was a revolving door of neighbors, friends, coworkers; every day a new guest at dinner, every day Silvio made a new friend. His cooking, looks, sense of humor won over many. Through these friends, they introduced him to the party scene: Zadar, Presice, Keslapest, and others...life became a blur. One party after another, be it a festival or a friend’s house, float back home to finally rest, do it all again.

During the days when he wasn’t partying, Silvio hung around the artisans, especially the metalworkers. Or racing through the countryside on horseback. Or pulling pranks on high society and narrowly getting away with it. One notable prank was a prank gone wrong that ended in a low-speed carriage chase, when Silvio was 18. It was here that Silvio and his friends/accomplices Bernhard De Vries and Sigrid Olafsdottir met Izabela Sivok, the oldest daughter of the family that owned the stolen carriage. She’d been hiding in the back-but rather than spoil the fun, she wanted to join the mischief. Thus formed “The Four Musketeers”. Bernhard was the only one with Musketeer training, but that didn’t stop them from choosing the name.

Another notable prank ended with Silvio in his underwear atop a shrine in Mullin-alone, when he was 19. The first people to find him wasn’t the other three musketeers, nor the city guard, but members of the Ordine di Savona Rola. The Order was a branch of the South Prusarian Church, worshipping Zizilia, Ognevik and Suvid in equal measure. They believed in venerating the arts as much as the natural order of things, and how they were mirror images of each other. This creative juxtaposition lent itself to the welcoming, proudly independent nature of their gatherings. Silvio found himself a second home; one where he felt valued for his friendship, not just his money or his partying.

Life was pretty good at this point; a steady home with Uncle Giovanni and Aunt Claudia, reliable friends in the Order, fun friends in the party scene, and steady income from metalworking and scrivening. Not to mention Izabela Sivok, his lover and beloved. The only downside to Silvio and Izabela’s relationship? Had to be kept secret, as her family never approved of her dating someone they didn’t arrange, much less a wastrel like Silvio.

Things shifted rather seismically when Silvio was 23. The Order had grown steadily more vitriolic and patriotic-sayings such as “restoring the civic glory” and “excising the rot of corruption from nature”-though Silvio hadn’t paid them mind. Until the leadership, with one Laszlo Semjen at the forefront, laid a contract in front of him. Silvio read the fine print much like any other contract-and walked right out. Not soon after, Uncle Giovanni told Silvio that people had been watching them, Aunt Claudia had been followed...and then Izabela’s father “discovered” their relationship.

Silvio grabbed what he could carry from his home in Zuria and met Izabela one final time. She told him about a friend of hers in the New World, one that could take him in until things boiled over. She handed him a letter of marque and told him to find “Kazik”. They shared one more passionate night, and Silvio left in the morning for the harbor.
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