<strong>GM Note:</strong><br/><br/><div class="codeheader">Code: <a class="codeoperation" href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[floatleft][img width=200 padding=10]http://i.imgur.com/XSrngRp.jpg[/img][/floatleft][font=impact][size=18pt][color=blue]Mr. Etienne Sinclair[/color]<br/>[/size][/font][hr]<br/>[i]Race:[/i]  Human [i]Class:[/i] Rogue</code></pre><br/>This is the format.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/67/8d/03/678d03bf7c12b399b4b90039210b348e.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Mouser</span></span><br/>Human Rogue/Bard, 11 HP, AC 19<br/><em>Known for biting off more than he can chew.</em><br/><hr/><br/>Young Mouser just couldn't seem to escape unilateral contract work today, could he?  He looked up at Stryker and sighed.<br/><br/>"Out of the pot and into the frying pan," he said.  He put his papers back into the writing tablet and then put the tablet away into his satchel.  He then slung the satchel over his shoulder.  He looked out towards the western trail, and considered momentarily making another run for it.  He sized Stryker, perhaps incorrectly, as the non-running type.  You never really knew until you knew.<br/><br/>"Usually, when I'm pressed into service, my would-be employer buys me a round and gets me stupidly drunk," Mouser said.   "That's how things normally go, anyway.  So, are you buying?"