1. Can you adequately access www.gliffy.com? Yes.
2. Do you have access to the D&D Character Builder software? Yes.
3. What is your experience level with 4e? Have you been a player or a DM (or both)? Both.
4. How familiar are you with the Victorian age (either historically or through fiction)? Through fiction, a lot. Through some historical study I am more familiar with the Regency period, though.
5. Have you ever played in a Victorian/Gaslight campaign setting before? If so, as a player or DM? What game system was used? Never before. Have played Regency and Louis XIV eras before, moderated freeform.
6. What do you expect from a game set in the Victorian Horror/Detective genre? To be part of a team that is a cross between the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Sherlock Holmes.
Character Concept Guidelines
Major (ret.) Fitzherbert Stafford-Jerningham, VC.
Married to Mary Isabel Lucy, daughter of Joseph Thaddeus Dormer, 11th Baron Dormer of Wyng, co. Buckingham. She is 49 years old.
Francis Seymour, 21 years old; Anastasia, 19; Philippa, 15.
Costessey Hall in Norfolk.
#13 Park Lane, Kensington.
#7 High Street, Kensington.
4e Character Class: Warlord (Tactical).
Social Status & Lifestyle: Upper class.
- He is the second son of Henry Valentine Stafford-Jerningham (now 78 years old), 9th Baron Stafford and 8th Baronet Jerningham.
- His eldest brother, Augustus Frederick Stafford-Jerningham (50 years old, who sits in the House of Commons for Pontefract, in the West Riding of Yorkshire), is heir apparent to the titles of Baron Stafford and Baronet Jerningham.
- After having attended Westminster School as a youth, his father sent him to Christ Church Colege, Oxford, where he obtained his medical degree, while minoring in Religion and singing in the cathedral's choir. This he did to please his father but, when he graduated, he begged the Baron to purchase him a comission in one of the Empire's regiments. This, his father agreed to, purchasing him a comission as regimental surgeon in the 2nd (The Queen's Royal) Regiment of Foot, with which he saw service in India. He was mentioned in dispatches no less than three times, for conspicuous bravery in battle. His dress military uniform sports the India General Service Medal, with bars for Bhootan, Looshai, Perak, and Jowaki. It also prominently displays the Victoria Cross (Crimson Ribbon), for singlehandedly defending a medical tent from a large group of fanatical thugees until help arrived. His single-minded determination in the face of overwhelming odds (one against almost twenty) saved the lives of over a dozen nurses, plus a score of recuperating amputees too weak to be of much help. In the aftermath it was determined that, although he was wounded no less than five times, his pistol shots had killed or disabled over a dozen murderous worshipers of the goddess Khali.
- He currently engages in private medical practice, at #7 High Street, near the train station. He also serves part time at two voluntary hospitals (the London Fever Hospital and the Chelsea Hospital for veterans). His practice opens weekday afternoons, from 3:00 to 7:00. He goes to the London Fever Hospital on Mondays and Thursdays, and to Chelsea on Tuesdays and Fridays. He takes Wednesday morning off and, unless called for by a client, Saturday and Sunday too.
Knowledge of the Occult:
Fitzherbert has strong Christian values, but he saw too much in India to disbelieve strange happenings. To him, almost anything is possible. To be able explain to it... that is a different matter entirely.
Character Arcs and Regression:
- If his father (now 78), and his brother (50) were to die, Fitzherbert would inherit the titles of Baron Stafford, and Baronet Jerningham. If that were to happen, he would have the right to sit at the House of Lords.
- If his actions on behalf of the Empire were to merit it, he could be invested into the Order of the Indian Empire, the Order of the Star of India, the Order of the Garter, or the Order of Saint Michael and Saint George. If he were to somehow be of service to the Royal Family, he could even be elevated to Viscount or Earl.
- Although he currently engages in private medical practice, and serves part time at voluntary hospitals (the London Fever Hospital and the Chelsea Hospital for veterans), he could be appointed as professor at a medical college, or even as governor of one of London's hospitals, probably Chelsea.
- Although he is a man of means, he could get involved in one or more profitable enterprises, depending on their nature.
Personal posessions of note:
- Webley&Scott' .476 caliber Webley 6-shot service revolver.
His hands trembled. As much as he tried, he could not stop them from shaking. In fact, now that the rush of danger had passed, he realized that his whole body shaked uncontrollably. All he could do was stand there, looking at his blood-stained hands and his oficer's revolver. His mind whirled uncontrollably, to the point that he thought he would soon faint.
The sikh sergeant's call brought him out of his reverie. "Are you hurt, sahib? Did they wound you?"
For a moment, all the Englishman could do was look at the tanned, leathery face of the man. Then, slowly, deliberately, he answered. "Yes, Rambir. I was wounded, more than once if I recall correctly, but not too gravely, I am relieved to say."
He breathed and, as he did, he grimaced in pain. Peraps he was worse off than he thought. "But I am of no import. Pray, tell me, good Rambir. Are the nurses safe? Are the patients safe?" His mind raced and recoiled at the thought of the thugees dispensing their tender mercies on the helpless women and wounded.
The sergeant looked at the English officer with a mix of admiration and unbelief. "Sahib, do you not know? Truly, do you not know?"
His punjabi accent was heavy, but surprise could be heard in his voice. Surprise, and something else. Respect.
"No man, I have no idea what the outcome was. I just know that they stormed the tent, I grabbed my revolver, and started shooting. Then I ran out of bullets, so I grabbed my cutting saw, scalpels, and whatever else I could find... and... and... I do not know what else happened, for God's sake!"
The surgeon was vissibly agitated, and growing more so every minute.
"Sahib... you held them off. You killed or wounded half a score of them, at the very least, and you kept the rest at bay until we arrived and disposed of them. Not one nurse, not one patient was hurt. You did a very brave thing today sahib."
The Englishman looked at the sergeant's face without truly understanding what the man said, and did a very unheroic thing.