Cadet Horatio Flowers

A specialist in ranged weaponry and the manipulation of life energies... (That's corporeal magic to the rest of you)

Flowers used to be a barber. One afternoon (after pulling three teeth and sewing up a slashed buttock) his barbershop was patronised by one Alistair Coleman Gunn wanting a quick trim.

"I'll be right with you, sir. Just need to finish fixing up this gentleman here."

Flowers was tending to some fool who had got into a bar fight had been carried into the shop by his mates. One of them was carrying his right index finger that had allegedly been severed by the broadsword wielded by a nine foot tall brute in full plate and chain (who got a damn good kicking before getting this 'lucky shot' on Nobby's right hand)... and not by an angry prostitute with a whiskey glass.

Normally you'd expect the stump to be sewn over and the finger passed onto the pie shop next door... However everyone was rather surprised when Flowers grabbed the digit... spat on the end (to clean it)... rubbed it on his bloody apron... and pressed the grubby finger back onto the bleeding knuckle. Strangely enough, it stayed put.

Not only did it stay put, but the drunken patron immediately started to use it to probe the deeper recesses of his nasal cavity. The finger was evidently as good as new... possibly slightly cleaner... if a little snotty now.

Gunn didn’t waste any time and offered Horatio a place in his academy.

Flowers had been bored with his profession as a ‘hair stylist’ and saw this Academy as a chance to practice his real passion of shooting (longbow, crossbow, thrown cutthroat razor... he wasn’t fussy)

Plus the brochure with lots of rock climbing, wind surfing and beach walks helped.

He sold his shop to the owner of the pie shop which provided him with just enough cash to pay off his gambling debts and pay for transport to Santia. He set off the following morning.