Abraham “Abe” Cyryl Borkowski III
Abe is a short and stout (but reasonably fit) old fellow with graying brown hair that seems to fly out in thinning wisps on either side of his head, although the top is a shiny pure bald. He tends to forget to shave, but most of the time he doesn’t need to, which suits his busily eccentric purposes just fine. He likes wearing multiple layers of clothes for no particular reason and isn’t known for his ability to match them; his favorite combination is a tweed pea-green vest with a dark blue rather antique overcoat that, on his stout frame, easily comes down to his thighs, as well as a dark brown velvet bowler hat. He also owns a pair of round thrice-magnifying gold spectacles and a curved black walking stick he procured in the antique shop he runs, but rarely decides to use them despite his (apparently) failing eyesight and waddling manner.
Profession: Philosopher, writer, and part-time antique shop-keeper
History: Abe was born an only child in east Poland near the border of Russia in a time of rebellion and war. His parents, caught between the Russians and the Germans and fearing the worst outcome possible in the aftermath, fled through neighboring countries to avoid the conflict and be accepted, but to little avail. Eventually, the family ended up in South Africa, a much more liberal and bustling place, where Abe spent little of his childhood but most of his life. They were poor and, in order to live decently, opened up an antique shop buying and reselling old and wholly useless items to European tourists. After their deaths, Abe alone took over the business. Having little interest in the random items, he often wandered the streets aimlessly and always with a squint-eyed smile, making many acquaintances especially with the locals who had been just has mistreated as he and his family had been. Though never one to anger and without a single ounce of malice in him, Abe decided to take up writing and philosophy, fighting in his own relaxed and eccentric way to protect the rights of others in every way he could come up with, from bloody racism and segregation to the compensation rights of French midget zeppelin-workers.
Personality: Abe is a surprisingly lively man given his age and is almost always found with a smile for friends and strangers alike. He is extremely eccentric most of the time, concealing a rather spontaneously genius mind beneath, and simultaneously interests and frightens others with his antics. More than occasionally he’ll claim to solidly make up his mind, then suddenly change it and move on to other things, switching from pure solemnity to fits of giggles in an instant. He believes being silly and simply enjoying life everyday is one of the most important aspects of life as a whole, and consequently never passes up a thrilling opportunity if one happens his way. However, when it comes to protecting others Abe has a surprising sense of justice and heroism that fuels his actions and his writing.
Appurtenances: Abe typically travels very light and owns very few items of use. However, it isn’t uncommon to see him carry about a number of random assorted items he owns:
- Leather loafers
- A stock of tweed vests and random clothing
- An incomplete sewing kit
- Gold pocket watch from his father
- Magnifying spectacles, bought from a mechanic
- A leather-bound journal filled with chicken scratch and sketches
- Several old broken quills and bottles of ink
- Various religious readings, mostly on Polish Judaism
- Magazines and books typically “picked up off the streets” or bought cheap
- A clockwork zeppelin-shaped music box given to him by a friend
- Last and least (in Abe‘s opinion), a small but fairly powerful pistol with powder and shots, his father’s.
Other Fascinating Information: Abe’s family was devoutly Jewish, but he himself doesn’t seem to practice any religion, at least not publicly or to any great extent. Instead, he tends to look to life instead of the afterlife (fascinating as it might be). Also, he appears to write constantly in his journal and claims he has written a hundred books--all of them incomplete.
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