Subject name:
Johan Alvara

Alias:
Southside Baby

Class:
DM

Stats:
Athleticism: 1 -2
Dexterity: 3
Constitution: 2 -1
Intelligence: 5 +2
Charisma: 4 +1

Backstory:
They call me Southside Baby, but my name is Alvara. I grew up without parents, abandoned as a baby on the cold doorstep of a rundown squat in the middle of Free City. Nobody knows who they were—and honestly, I don’t care. My first cry was drowned out by sirens in the distance and the clatter of a needle hitting the concrete next to me. This city gave me nothing but hunger, cold, and danger. But you know what? It also made me who I am today.

By the time I was six, I was sleeping in cardboard boxes, hidden behind Mad Jack’s club—a dealer with a short fuse and a trail of blood leading all the way to the docks. That’s where I learned exactly when to run and when to vanish into the shadows. By nine, I knew every alley in the south side of the city—Newport, Monclair, Dreamville. I was smuggling pills for small gangs in exchange for half a sandwich or a couple bucks. And at eleven, I got locked up for the first time. Not because I did something stupid, but because I put pressure on a dirty cop with something I had “accidentally” overheard. Nobody understood how I got that info, but from that moment on, they knew: I wasn’t just some street punk.

Fast forward twenty-five years, and I’m the guy you call when you need something. Something real. Something illegal. Something untraceable. Guns, fake documents, safe passage across the border, a person who supposedly no longer exists… I’ll take care of it. No questions, no bullshit—as long as you pay and keep your mouth shut.

They whisper that I’ve got connections with both the police and the underworld. Some even claim I once foiled an assassination attempt on the mayor… or maybe I planned it myself.

What are my real motives? In Free City, you don’t survive by being honest. You survive by staying unpredictable.