Just a character intro post to start:

Vayn is a Tiefling, meaning he carries the blood of an Infernal ancestor somewhere in his lineage - essentially, he is part devil. So naturally, he enjoys causing trouble, though he more likes trouble for the sake of trouble, rather than for the sake of harming others; in spite of his heritage, he rarely acts out of actual malice. He has a pair of curled ram horns that curve beneath his ears, which naturally tend to draw attention from passers-by, but he makes little effort to hide them with his long black hair, or by any other method; Vayn is not one to care much what others think of him, so long as he can get what he wants and move on. He finds order and schedules stifling, and so tends to act on whatever whims he has at the moment. Though he is not above lying often, Vayn would generally consider robbery below him, as he is fully confident that he can get by with his music. He was raised as a bard and trained well in playing the lute, and in public speaking. Vayn also considers himself a bit of a champion of chaos, seeing order as an enemy to freedom. To most, he likely comes across as charming, but perhaps more than a little crazy.

ooc: hope this is ok, since we were thinking about steampunk.
Steampunk
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Zander is human, fundamentally ordinary overall, though a great believer in the art of the machine. He loves to build new things, and experiment with combining actual magic and machine...unfortunately enough often to disastrous effects. Since most people refuse to come within spitting distance of his inventions, he otherwise gets past by repairing things, and with his secondary skill as a smith.
He tends to be somewhat disinterested in society at large, believing that, war or peace, the world is driven by a combination of magic and machine. War or Industry, he claims, are all the same to him, though something of this opinion may be born from never actually having been in serious combat.
His style of dress is often as haphazard as his opinions on the world at large, usually thrown together with fairly little regard for the current fashion, especially as far as keeping his white-blonde hair out of the way, lest it turn black(er?) with grease, for which purpose he almost constantly wears a cap or a scarf.

Vayn sat at a table at the Stalwart Steamer bar, carefully tuning his lute. A mug of ale and a bowl of stew went unnoticed for the moment, but the Tiefling reached over to break off a bit of bread to eat between strings as he worked to get them sounding as in-tune as possible.

The lute did not quite seem to match the man playing it - the instrument was well cared-for but old, still sounding nice, though the original designs painted on it had faded considerably; Vayn, on the other hand, stood out quite a bit, dressed as he was in the patterned clothes of an entertainer. His black hair was tied back in a bun, except for two long strands of bangs hanging loose that did little to hide the pair of curling ram's horns on his head. Horns aside, he looked like a nice enough fellow, a wide smile gracing his broad face even as he concentrated on adjusting the tones of his lute strings.

When the instrument was properly tuned, he sat back and started picking out a few arpeggios on the strings, taking a few long moments to pay liberal attention to the ladies wandering around serving drinks. Once he made eye contact with one of them, the Tiefling grinned more and winked before turning his full attention to his lute. He began to play a song loudly enough for background music, but still quiet enough to avoid disturbing conversation.

Vayn watched the door idly while he played, wondering if anyone interesting would come in today. He had been there the night before to play as well, and a few drunk men had tried to start a fight with each other. He would have gladly joined in, but the Tiefling wanted to get a few more nights' work out of this place before he did anything to get himself thrown out, since leaving here would mean he would have to find another place to play for a while. He played well enough that most taverns and such had need for him, but he was not really ready to move on just yet.

He ducked into the bar, adjusting an grease stained cap on his head, and brushing back a few stray hairs from his forehead as he did so. Save for the fact one of his hands was machine work, he probably wouldn't have looked much different from most of the humans here. Faintly tired and looking to relax, though his presence among what folk might be familiar with him, wasn't exactly conducive to relaxation. Not with Zander's somewhat infamous tendency to create fascinating little machines...which almost invariably suffered a catastrophic fate from their own internal failures. By reputation, Zander's own arm had, at least in the gospel of the gossip circle, gone by way of one of his own creations.
"Afternoon." He offered, holding up his hands briefly in demonstration that he wasn't carrying anything that whirred, clicked, had moving parts, or a tendency to explode.

As he continued to play, Vayn glanced over at the doorway as another customer announced himself. A recent arrival to the town, the bard had not yet heard whatever stories there were about this particular inventor and his malfunctioning machines, but he had seen enough one-handed tinkerers to have a pretty good guess at how this particular man got the way he was. He grinned a little at the other man and nodded in acknowledgment, then returned his full attention to the lute for the moment.

Perhaps after he had played a few more songs to convince the bartender that he was worth his pay, he would head over to the bar and chat up a few of the customers. Find out what was worth knowing about the town and all. Vayn glanced up occasionally as he plucked the strings in the carefully practiced patterns of his personal favorite tunes, mostly only to look at anyone else who came in. He did spare a few extra glances for the man with the mechanical hand, though. The Tiefling decided he really wanted to know how the thing worked, and if it worked well.

((Ooc: Xander: I'm famous!
Vayn: ...no. Just a Darwin award waiting to happen....
Xander: ;_;))

Xander grinned back, tipping his hat slightly as he made his way to the bar where he sat down, tapping with his 'real' hand to the sound of the music, head nodding faintly as he picked up the rhythm.
A new bard, that was an interesting bit of gossip that would hit the streets before too long, he reasoned, resting his chin on his metal hand, a gesture that wasn't particularly comfortable, per say, but as much showing off as anything else.
It worked tolerably well...most of the time, but there was a certain degree of delicacy missing, and he'd rather use it as a chin rest than try and pick up a glass with it. He never had gotten the grip quite right...
Now the question that remained, he pondered, watching the bard and trying to think of the name of the song, which was catchy and annoyingly familiar...was weather or not the horns were real?
If they were a joke he didn't figure they'd be a very funny one, since it gave him something of a devilish look.
He flagged down the bartender to order a drink, figuring to maybe order one for the horned man as well.

(( XD Hehe, Darwin awards. Wouldn't be surprised if Vayn managed to get himself one, too. ))

Once he had played several more songs, Vayn picked up the couple coins that a few of the patrons had tossed to him. He set the lute aside for the moment on his table and stood up, counting the coins on his palm as he stepped up to the bar.

"Can I have a shot of the strongest stuff this change'll get me?" he asked the bartender with a grin as he climbed onto a bar stool beside the mechanic with the metal hand. While the bartender got his drink, Vayn studied the stranger in a way that seemed to show that he knew that it was impolite to stare, but did not really care much. By the Tiefling's logic, he had been stared at enough that he was allowed to do some staring of his own from time to time.

After a minute or so, he asked the other man, "Did you make that yourself?" as he pointed to the clockwork hand. Vayn's nails were not pointed like claws, but they looked a little longer than most people kept their fingernails, and they were black almost as though they had been painted that color.

((LOL XD. They can go into competition. Xander might bite it over pure foot in mouth, if his machines don't get him first.))

The man reacted much like some proud father glowing over their child, beaming as he triumphantly wiggled the hand. Mixed metal, it's outer layer was brassy, with glimpses in exposed areas of other components.
"That I did!" He bragged, puffing up rather amusingly. "Figured it was time for an upgrade." He joked, winking impishly, though he had to admit a moment later. "About the only thing I've made that works for a tinkers damn, but it'd be better if I had more time to get the kinks out." This with a weighted, if somewhat general look over his shoulder at the rest of the room, before he turned his attention back to the Tiefling. "What about you? I haven't seen horns that impressive since the millers goat bought it. Good enough music though. Catchy."

"Oh, you like them?" Vayn said with a touch of pride in his voice as he patted the horns as a noblewoman might touch her freshly-permed curls. "More of a curse to me than anything else, sometimes, though. Not everyone likes the looks of them."

He rested an elbow on the table and his chin on his hand, and rubbed his little black beard thoughtfully. "Nice job on the hand, though. I could never do a thing like that. I could mine the ore, maybe, if I felt like it, but the fine-tuning and making all the little cogs and wheels? Not for me."

The Tiefling accepted his shot with a grin and a thank you when the bartender brought it, then spun on the bar stool to face the tinker. "Glad you like my music. I try," he said before drinking down his shot.

"Well I admit I can't imagine what you'd do with 'em. Unless you had in mind to charge around like that damn goat and ram into people." He made a fist with his 'real' hand and pantomimed the gesture, then grabbed his own drink as the Bartender brought it, grinning again.
"I love that part, the making gears and putting them together." He sighed wistfully, perhaps putting together an god like machine in his own mind. A whirring, clicking, well oiled beast that acted with precision, perhaps in his mind it didn't even matter what it -did-, so long as it worked.
"Just as well you're plucking the strings then, because I can mesh gears all day long, but I can't carry a tune in a bucket....and I'd be a little hard on the strings."
Another waggle of metal fingers, which did show some intermittent stiffness and reluctance to move in perfect calibration.
"But tell me about yourself. I like a good story while I drink. How'd you come by those prize rams horns, and how'd you come by being a bard?"

"I'm sure you want to know about the horns, first, since everyone else does," Vayn began with a sigh, then started telling the same lie of a tale he told everyone who asked: "See, there was this festival in a small town a few months ago, and I was there, of course, because they needed a minstrel and I happened to be in the area. And I can never say no to a festival. And of course, I met this very beautiful, very single girl." He paused and glanced at the man for emphasis before continuing. "What no one bothered to tell me was that her father was this crotchety old curse-caster who generally protected the town, but when it came to his daughter, would stick about any curse on anyone in about half a second."

The bard grasped the bottom curls of his horns, one in each hand, and tugged on them a little, tilting his head one way then the other. "I was wearing these fake horns for the festival, since that was the required dress code, and, the curse-caster stuck them fast to my skull with his weird hexes. Just for asking the pretty girl to dance! Said they'd fall off the day of the festival next year, but I'm not so sure I fully trust his words." He pouted a little and heaved a dramatic sigh. "I just have to wait and see."

"The bard part is happier, at least," he went on, kicking his feet a little since they did not quite reach the bottom rung of the barstool. Vayn also felt no need to point out that this was the true part of the story, but that was because bards were generally more agreeable to most people than those with devils in their family line. "I grew up in the woods outside of a big city, in a bit of a commune camp, and I could learn whatever I wanted so long as I could barter something so the adults would teach me. I did a lot of chores for other people, but it was worth it. Learned to play the lute and speak well in public, and now that I'm traveling the world, I find I can earn my coin anywhere. Everyone likes a good song and a good story."

"How about you," he asked. "If you don't mind me asking, what got you into tinkering?"

"I think you'd be a bit curious yourself if I came in with a great strapping pair of antlers on my head, for example." He shrugged, making a flippant gesture with his artificial hand, which clicked with the movement of parts. "Quite a story anyway." He noted, thoughtfully. He did seem to have fallen for it, it seemed believable enough, given the way some people were about their daughters, and it made him wonder how many other unlucky souls were wandering around with horns stuck to their heads.
"Suppose I just sort of, fell into it." He shrugged. "I always liked putting things together. Actually I'm a smith by trade, Tinker second." He noted. "Which is probably how I got into it. Put together enough simple things and you start wondering if maybe you can't put together something a little different. And one thing leads to another. I just built a machine thats supposed to help with planting, but no one's too interested in giving it a go... One little fire and..." He paused and cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Right. Anyway..."

"You think the horns make me look strapping?" Vayn exclaimed, trying not to sound too pleased at the compliment. His somewhat short stature was not generally something that bothered him, but he was never one to refuse if someone told him he looked good. It killed him, though, knowing that he had to pretend to hate the horns to some degree or another in order to fit with his story. But the Tiefling kept telling himself that things would change in his lifetime, and then he would not be required to keep his Infernal heritage so hidden from the world.

"You've made a planting tool?" he went on as the other young man explained himself, wanting to turn the topic of conversation back onto him. "What other sorts of things have you made? I think it's interesting, to say the least. Takes men of vision like you to keep progressing, no?" Praise would hopefully prompt him to tell more. Not that Vayn was going to steal the tinkerer's ideas or anything - the bard was just genuinely curious.

He debated this a few minutes more, caught between a sense of elation at actually being asked to describe his machines, and flickers of doubt as he remembered exactly what had happened to them successively.
"Well, made one to put in nails faster...uh. Don't ask, didn't work. Well...maybe it worked a little too well. Made a little wind up man I thought would make a neat toy...that kinda came appart in a hurry...." He paused, rubbing his chin in distressed thought before letting his shoulders slump slightly.
"....Hand's the only one that worked."