Galen Abrams

Human Intelligent Field Mechanik / Bounty Hunter

Description:
Bio:

Galen. Making a living by walking the line.

A man with a talent for metal and steam is always in demand.

And Galen Abrams had those talents in spades. His family had been settled in Breck for years. Even as Border tensions with the Khadorians had grown, and Cryxian raids had moved from the realm of dreams to real life nightmares his family stayed. Lorio, Galen’s grandfather had set up a small metalworking shop near the docks that had served as a staple of the waterfront for years and years. Merchant and military ships alike would come in for some of the finest rigging equipment and tack ever to be used on the Meridus. Fine decorated hinges that had been carefully worked could be found on some of the finest ships from Mercir to Ohk. Knowing the tiny makers mark of Abrams’ Arts had traveled far and wide was a point of pride for the family. The heat of a furnace, the glow of molten metal, the sound of hammer on anvil, these were the sight and sounds of Galen’s childhood.

But the winds of change blow hard in the Iron Kingdoms and can knock down those who who aren’t prepared for a gust. Galen’s father, Bartal, was one such person. War has a way of ruining the finer things in life. In a world of mass produced warjacks and plate metal stamped swords the demand for fine hinges and artisan buckles is impressively low. As business dried up Bartal did anything he could to keep the doors open. The focus of the business shifted away from the small artistic endeavors to try and keep up with the demands of war. Abrams’ Arts became Abrams’ Arms. Galen and his father worked hard to keep the little metal pieces, stamped A A, going out, and the money coming in. Bartal’s biggest mistake was getting the local criminal aspect involved in his business. New equipment and workers cost a lot of money. Money the simple family just didn’t have. As the situation became more grim these debts were called and Bartal was forced to close.

But, A man with a talent for metal and steam is always in demand.

Galen easily found a new life working on the busy docks of Fellig. It was hard, but rewarding work. He started off simply as a simple dock loader. But using his knack for metalworking found a nice job repairing and servicing the many labor jacks that trundled about the docks. His bosses saw the way he handled himself are the jacks and eventually moved him up, step by step till Galen was Crew Chief at one of the best shipping companies in Ord. He had found a calling, something he was truly good at and loved his work. He had a small office over the warehouse where the jacks were stored. His hours kept him there late but at least he got to see the sun set over the horizon out of his little window. Things had been too smooth, for too long and another gust way about to knock him over.

A package has gone missing, a whole shipment in fact. Galen’s records couldn’t account for it. His name was on slip, proof he has unloaded the boxes, put them in storage. But now they were nowhere to found. Galen’s ass was now on the line. And with no proof otherwise it was the end of Galen’s time at __________. He packed up the things from his desk and was kicked off the premises. He sought solace not with friends, nor family, but with drink. He has never been a big drinker, but special occasions called for a special treat. He had worked for his father, that didn’t work out. He has worked for a large corporation, that didn’t work out. There was one this left on his mind. “If I can’t trust anyone else, I’ll have to do the work myself.” And it was there, in a dark booth, with a tall stout beer a plan hatched that would change the rest of his life.

He strode back into __________ later that night. Full of confidence from beer and a stupid plan in his head. Tucked into his belt was a small hold out pistol. He could feel it’s weight, and he was wishing he had not decided to bring it. Breck was a military port, hundreds of soldiers, the small one shot pistol would not do him much good if an alarm was raised. The guard shack was empty, they were likely out making rounds. His office was near the main gate, but still required walking past the less than alert night guard. Word of his dismissal must not have gotten around yet. He managed to sneak into what used to be his office and grab the ring of large keys. Most of the labor jacks were locked up overnight shift, save the few heavy labor jacks that ran pretty much non-stop. Climbing back down the rusty metal steps and rounding the building he kept his wide brimmed hat turned down, unlocked and slid open the giant rolling door to the jack house. There before him in the low lantern light was a shining _______ chassis labor jack, scrawled on one shoulder __________. He set to work unchaining, the large machine. He flipped the large switch on the boiler and fired up the jacks steam engine. Before the turbine had reached full power Galen heard the door slide open, “Who’s in here?” He turned and came face to face with one of the night shift guards, lantern in one hand a large barreled blunderbuss in the other. “Galen, is that you?” holding the lantern up to get a better view. “ I heard you were let go. What are you doing in here? You can’t be here.” Sweat was now dripping down Galen’s face. He hadn’t thought too hard about getting a 10 foot tall, smoke belching machine out of the yard. He was always the kind of person to roll with the punches. As the guard approached Galen reached behind himself and pulled the small pistol.

“Stop right there. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want what is mine.” The noise from the jack’s engine had grown louder causing him to shout “I deserve this. I am tired of being at the will of other. Get against that wall, drop your gun.” He motioned for the guard to move toward the wall the guard complied, walked to the other side of the room and set down his lantern and firearm.”I am my own man, I will make my own way in this world. No one is going to get in my way, and if they try my the gods have mercy on them.” He backed towards the door and motioned the ‘jack to come with him. “Don’t follow me, don’t raise the alarm. It’s not worth it. Those people aren’t your friends, they just see you as a tool.” As Galen turned to leave the room he saw the guard lunge for his blunderbuss, in a flash he rose his arm and pull the trigger. Time froze, the guard crumpled to the floor, smoke rose from Galen’s pistol and all he could do was stand in shock. He took a half step towards the man to check his condition, was he dead? Reality snapped back knowing people would have heard the commotion. So he set off running. Weaving through the alleyways close to the port hoping to throw off any pursuit. Running, running from his old life.

A man with a talent for metal and steam is always in demand.
But sometimes those talents aren’t enough. Especially when your closest companion runs through coal like a troll through meat. Months later Galen found himself sitting on a bench in the shady port town of Five Fingers. Legitimate business opportunities to keep his friend fueled and fixed were hard to come by, but in Five Fingers there are a lot of ways to stack up gold crowns. Kicking around the trash at his feet Galen was introduced to the wonderful world of bounty hunting. Pictures of rough looking criminals with heavy numbers of crowns scrawled below a list of crimes.

Galen Abrams

The Land of Gold DavidHenry