Gyro Zeppeli

Gyro Zeppeli hails from the Kingdom of Naples. At twenty-four, he is an executioner by family heritage. The Zeppeli trade is passed down alongside a pair of Steel Balls: in skilled hands, their vibrations mend shattered bones or stimulate sluggish blood, but in the hands of an amateur, they remain useless lumps of iron. It is quiet, grim work, and he doesn't care to explain it to strangers.

Now Gyro is tearing across America from coast to coast in the Steel Ball Run race. Surrounded by trail dust, rattling trains, stifling saloons, and hundreds of riders hungry for gold, Zeppeli plays for his own private stakes—and keeps his lips sealed tight about them.

He carries himself with cool composure and a caustic smirk: rolling a steel sphere across his knuckles, taking his time before answering, waiting for the right moment. He respects bitter coffee, an honest wager, and tough-minded trail companions. He can't stand strangers laying their hands on his gear, and he despises pity.

Around the campfire, you can debate the laws of the Spin, mend tack, warm your hands over the embers, or share hours of comfortable silence—idle chatter is the one thing he won't tolerate.