|Full name||James "Howl" Howell|
|Date of Birth||March 13, 2499|
|Parents||Pitivo and Dacey Howell|
|Eyes and Hair||Blue eyes and sandy hair|
|Height and Weight||6', 166 lbs|
- 2496 - Born on Paquin to a sword swallower and a fiddle player in a traveling carnival
- 2510 - Enlists with the Independent Army, assigned as a mechanic to a manufacturing plant.
- 2512 - Accepts job as a lighting technician for a Paquin play house
- 2522 - Bored with life, Howl hires himself out as a ship's mechanic. He finds work with the Firefly Ascension, getting off planet for the first time
James was a carnie kid growing up. The son of a sword swallowing mother and a man who could play the fiddle with his feet, he has an interesting gene pool to work from. As a boy, he ran a very successful Three Card Monte for the circus and various carnival games and rides. His specialty was rigged games, a natural charisma and patter kept the patrons playing. During his troubled teenage years, he could hardly run away and join the circus. Luckily, the Unification War had broken out not too long before. James was fifteen when he enlisted; a year after he enlisted the treaty would be signed. In that year, he never did get offplanet. Instead he became a grease monkey in a manufacturing plant, working on spaceships he'd never ride. After the treaty was signed, James found himself jobless and homeless. It shouldn't have bothered him, but he'd gotten used to a stationary life. He spent a few months on the streets where his Monte game made a revival before turning his mechanical skills to theatrical work and being hired by The Goodrich Wellspring's Theatre.
Howl has signed on to the Ascension out of a powerful need to be traveling again.
Concept and Description
Howl is an ex-carny-mechanic-browncoat. And by ex, I mean doesn't get paid for being it anymore. Currently a lighting technician in a Paquin theatre that isn't exactly prestigious, but at least it's stationary. His skills are luck than science of any sort. He can do surprising things with a bit of wire and a lightbulb.
Howl is a tall, lanky young man exuding an air of boyish charm. Short sandy hair is still long enough to be artfully mussed, and facial hair a shade darker ranges from clean shaven to a persistent five o' clock shadow. There's a smattering of light freckles on lighter skin across the bridge of his nose. That nose is long and pointed, set below two blue eyes grinning with amusement. His mouth is likewise smiling; it's just the natural shape it falls into. His clothes look used, but well cared for. A dashing red paisley vest is worn over a collared shirt, a pattern of blue and white checks, with the sleeves . Black pinstripe pants gone thin at the knees cover his legs and utilitarian boots are on his feet. A duster with plenty of pockets that went through a bad dye job (it's now brown with patches of a sickly dark green) is worn over all this. Capping off Howl's outfit is a peaked hat made of a light plaid fabric.
- Howl has four tattoos: A pair of dice on the inside of his left wrist, a star constellation on the right, comedy/tragedy masks on the left side of his neck/back/shoulder area, and a black star on an upside down green triangle on his right bicep.
- His accent is a mix of a Southern twang and an Irish brogue, with a hint of Romani thrown in for some spice. In general, he is slow spoken and has a natural loudness.