Edward is a wiry old man with a permanent layer of gunpowder soot on his face and hands. His wild, steel-grey hair is kept out of his eyes by a pair of heavy brass goggles. He wears high-collared smithing leathers covered in pockets filled with gears, springs, and shattered wand tips. His custom rifle, a masterpiece of clockwork and runes, is never far from his side.

He is a gruff and meticulous perfectionist who prefers the company of machines over people. He often mutters to himself about torque and mana-ratios, assuming that anyone younger than fifty lacks the patience for true craftsmanship. Despite his prickly exterior, he has a deep respect for those who use their tools with precision.

For five decades, Edward was the premier gunsmith of the Ironworking Guild, known for creating intricate locks and clockwork wonders. However, his obsession with explosive propulsion led him into forbidden territory. He discovered that depleted magic wands, usually discarded as junk, still contained enough residual energy to act as potent projectiles when properly pressurized. After a catastrophic workshop explosion that cost him his standing in the guild, he was forced to take his research elsewhere. Now a wanderer, he treats the entire world as his laboratory. He uses his skills as a rogue to acquire rare components and bypass the regulations of less imaginative societies. He has survived to seventy not through strength, but through the careful application of magic and black powder. Every lock he picks and every bolt he fires is another step toward his magnum opus, a rifle that can punch through the foundations of the heavens themselves.