aka: .many, many things including The Duchess of Montrone and Mattocks the coachman, Uncle Jack and Eloie the mouse, Marietta and her father, Doc Tolliver and his daughter, (real names: Tolliver Marchant & Sylas Benn)
Religious views: sceptical and mercenary.
Adventuring skills and specialities: deception, disguise, theft, innovative ways of escaping, the tarantella.
Family connections: Tollie’s father was a very important Death Priest.
Tollie and Sylas work as a pair. Tollie is the main ideas man, although Sylas is not without his own brains. Sylas is a master of disguise – his tiny frame and feminine face make him a natural at pretending to be a girl. They have worked their way across the continent making a buck or two in any way they could think of posing as everything from a travelling medicine man and his daughter to an Albion Duchess and her coachman. They joined the Adventurers Guild shortly after the collapse of the non-existent Guild of Thieves and Assassins and after the Summer of Fire, found a new interest in bringing down the Frisian Inquisition (if a buck can be made on the way then all well and good).
“Excuse me Brother, but why do you have two magical mice in your pocket.” His little shake of the head told Tollie that he couldn’t believe he had just said these words.
“Ah,” said Brother Tollie, looking abashed but grinning, “a little indulgence I’m afraid.” The guard gave him a highly suspicious look. “A left over from my dreadful heathen past. Allow me to introduce Eloie and Merkadi, my mice. That one is Eloie,” Tollie pointed at the disgruntled blonde one that narrowed its eyes at the sound of its name.
The homunculus was now trying to take a step away from him whilst remaining a menacing presence. Tollie knew he was on to a winner, and continued. “I was, in my bad old days, before I saw the light,” with his free hand Tollie theatrically waved his ankh at the guard, “I was in a travelling fair. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Uncle Jack’s amazing magical mice?” He said it with such a convincing air of despairing hope that the guard felt obliged to shake his head and mumble ‘sorry no’ under his breath. “Ah well, it was a long time ago.” Tollie had the ability to sound like an old man even if he didn’t look like one and talking the talking was far hard than shuffling the shuffle of the old. It was something that Sylas admired in Tollie when he wasn’t a mouse waiting for an inevitable humiliation.
“What kind of amazing magical mice?” said the guard with a grudging curiosity and Tollie was ready for the question.
“They squeak the Paravelian National Anthem and dance the Tarantella. Although I’m afraid they’re a little out of practice.” – Dawn of Darkness
“Would you take that ridiculous wig off?” snapped Tollie.
“It’s no worse than your badger’s bum beard,” grumbled Sylas, stubbornly refusing to remove it.
“It’s going bald, and it’s got lice,” spat Tollie, leaning over to snatch it from his head.
“It’s realistic,” retorted Sylas ducking skilfully out of his grip.
“It’s revolting,” groaned Tollie making another grab for it.
“Would you two just shut up,” snapped Jason Devere irritably. He was leaning against a nearby tree just off the path trying to pretend that he wasn’t with them. Next to his feet, Pringle was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hammer across his knees, playing with the grass. It had been a very long walk from Neckard not because it was far away but because Tollie and Sylas hadn’t shut up the whole way. – Summer of Fire (coming soon)