Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Long-term fantasy roleplay partners wanted » Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! »

0
followers
follow

Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes

Nobleman and chosen Champion of Perialis

0 · 385 views · located in The Lands of EdĂ in

a character in “Savior”, as played by Seveneleven

Description

Image



Image


Image

Age: 24

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 150lbs

Build: Lean

Gender: Male

Nation: Perialis

Image

Hair Color: Fraisier has long strands of strawberry blonde hair. It always looks prim and proper despite it's length. Hence why Fraisier is seen wearing an elegant ponytail. He at times likes to let his bangs come some what down on his face, even though his parents contend it should be parted. Nevertheless is colorful hair seems to contradict his rather pale visage.

Eye Color: Dark Blue

Facial Features: Fraisier possesses very fair and dainty features. One could say his face is quite creamy in how sleek it appears to be. Despite his remarkably clear complexion, he has been called white as a ghost before, oh the irony. His face is also devoid of any facial hair and well it would seem he will never grow a beard. The rest could be said of his body were hair is also absent. The only place he seems to grow it is on top of his head. His appearance is one of almost effeminate quality. His rather clean and smooth face and his overall body structure. All of it suggests one that isn't entirely masculine, despite being a male. This has haunted him for all of his life, but despite his frail, delicate features he is one that seeks improvement overall.

Attire: Fraisier does dress the part of a nobleman. His clothing is well of elegance and does nothing short but show wealth. His common attire includes a blue surcoat, a white, frilly, neck tie that seems to almost choke the poor lad. A white, single breasted vest, a white shirt with frilly, circular cuffs. Long white trousers and long black, leather boots with a golden trim at the folded flaps.

Image

Behavior: A shy and rather despondent youth, one of a pure but faded life. Unheard of in such a young age, such melancholy is left with the eldest of people. Yet, this is the behavior of Fraisier. Quiet and contemplative, he was never very social or very warm. Not this doesn't mean he is uncaring, in fact he cares a great deal for his loved ones, why he may not show it in the most understood of conditions. Fraisier is very introverted and not very open with others and prefers to avoid meeting new strangers. He hardly ever talks and when he does it's only some small hello or goodbye.

He is most comfortable with people much more older than he, or much more younger than he. He connects with these groups better than people around his age. Which most of the times they misunderstand his shyness as snobbery and consider him arrogant. This is not the truth, he doesn't find anyone below him, in fact he doesn't even act like a true Nobleman, often communicating with commoners. It takes a lot of work to get Fraisier to open up at all, as people must be patient with him and not act in a way that he finds repelling. Even still, he prefers the silence and solitude of his home and room. Very much content to his studies or practicing his fencing.

His insistence on loneliness is often the worry of his parents, more or less an agitation on his father's behalf. Despite encouragement from his mother or rather forceful tactics from his father, it never seemed to change his status. Not only does he close himself off, he is terrible at making friends. He finds difficulty in talking for long periods of time and is constantly stress on whether his impression was good or not. He doesn't wish to disappoint anyone and his nervousness causes him to be mocked or ignored. It also doesn't help that the class mute is also one of the most gifted student in any skill. Jealousy and lack of understanding are the undoings of a healthy childhood. Well, that an being able to communicate with the Dead. His mentioning of this to his mother, was discarded as merely a product of an over active imagination. He was already different, no sense in ostracizing him further.

This lack of understanding from family made life for him difficult but he still persevered. One thing that always shows is that, giving the time to get to know him, he is a kind, polite, intelligent and an incredibly humble person. The Elderly Men and Women do praise such dignified grace and respect from someone so young, the only times his father sees any pride. This also leaves no doubt in his mother's mind that he could make great friends, for she knows he is a great person. Yet, when it comes to other social situations his incredibly low self-esteem gets the better of him. He always explains he isn't the most handsome or most skilled of people, even though others have spoken otherwise. Fraisier has effectively built a hard shell around him, to protect him from the harm of the outside world. And his mother, despite being supportive, is rather over protective of him, and her coddling doesn't help break this shell. Now with the coming tournament can he even break his own insecurities?



Habits/Tendencies/Quirks: Always nervous and mumbles when meeting new people. Insists on avoid eye contact most of the time during conversation. His body nuances often suggests undesired of attention. Sometimes fumbles with fingers when incredibly anxious, scared, or embarrassed.

Likes/Dislikes: His likes include, family, fencing, studies, and horse back riding. His dislikes include bullies, entering new situations, and seeing others in pain.

Fears: His fears are always linked to other people instead of himself. His fears is that he will never be accepted by anyone. He also fears he will never make any friends in his life. Recently though he fears for disappointing everyone back home, they have chosen him to be a champion of their nation. If he fails then he can never forgive himself and will feel guilty that they may have made a terrible choice.

Hopes/Dreams: His hopes and dreams are really one in the same. He hopes to be accepted by all and not seen as a loser or a freak anymore. He also hopes he will become brave and loved by all. He is very tired of his shy demeanor and desperately wants to change. To one day break out of his shell is his dream.


Image

Essence: Spirit

Abilities: Thanks to this strange ability, he has a reservoir of untapped potential. Something that has shown itself in the past whether it be his education or his hobbies and fencing. He would be what many consider a prodigy. Yet, despite how successful he could be, it has a very taboo capability. He can communicate with the Dead of the Ethereal Realm. Sometimes even call upon the spirits to give aid in his endeavors.

Techniques: (You can make up four techniques that you have specifically created, using your Essence. This also includes one Over-the-Top ability you are allowed to use, at a time I chose.)

1. Astral Projection: When asleep, Fraisier's spirit often leaves his body and can traverse the world. His spirit is intangible and invisible to all, except to maybe the one who has the essence of perception. Although this does no damage or harm, it can be useful for scouting and other observatory tasks.

2. Sixth Sense: Can sense when the other seven are in great danger, and will know if there hurt, dying, or dead. This sense also applies to the connection of the Ethereal Realm often able to speak to the dead

3. Ghost Arms: In asking for assistance from the Ethereal Realm the spirits of the dead can only offer him their arms. This often in the form of swords. He can summon up to six weapons but he must place his entire concentration on manifesting them in the Material Realm. This makes Fraisier immobile and his only defense is what he has summoned.

4. Aspect of The Scion: The single most difficult act of spiritual power that is not manipulated by Fraisier himself. This ability will temporarily give Fraisier the power of The Scion itself, but the Scion must lend him the power in order for it to work. Once that is done they will work together as one for a period of time. Although Fraisier has no idea he can even do this, the effects of this ability are hereby unknown.

Image

Image

Type of Weapon: Rapier

Name of Weapon: Aurora

Length: 39" in

Width: Ÿ" in

Thickness: 3/16" in

Weight: 2 lbs./o8 oz

Ammunition: N/A




Image

History: Fraisier was born in to one of the Nine Noble Families, belonging to the Hughes Family. He has lived a life of pomp and circumstance as he is groomed to be apart of Perialis' elite class. Despite being born into wealth and status, he never quite adapt to their abundant lifestyle. For instance their is a strict social hierarchy, which more time than not, Fraisier has broken when speaking with commoners. His Father was unduly rough with his son. He wanted him to stand up straight and be proud and strong. Qualities Fraisier sorely lacked. Yet, this did not deter his father from forcing him to learn Fencing, and poise and dinner etiquette.

Life outside of the house wasn't much easier. His peers were cruel and incredibly harsh to poor Fraisier. Insulting him, pushing him, throwing things at him, and playing tricks on him. This was mainly because of Fraisier's natural ability for success making him the envy of a lot of his fellow nobles. Their biting jealously has always led them to commit such abusement. To compensate for his lack of social interaction by speaking with the dead. The dead do not care who you are or what you've done, their just happy to have someone to talk to. The only other person he could speak with is his mother. Who never quite understood her son, she understood her daughters but not Fraisier. Still that never stopped her from supporting him, despite his oddities.

When the Scion attacked he was only fourteen but he felt much pain as spirits flooded the Ethereal Realm and often Fraisier would pass out from the spiritual overload. When the king died it was devastating to all including him since he actually knew King Averian, because his father Randolph is an old friend of the king's. That was a dark and dismal day as even the heavens weeped. Rain fall was harsh and heavy as flooding even occurred in the slums. Fraisier had never had direct relations with the Royal Family. The only times he has met them was during dinners and balls they hosted. Even during that time Randolph spoke for the entirety of their visit. He had attempt to pair his son with Prince Darrien, but even he was victim to peer pressure and would not be seen with the outcast. Even though the Prince wasn't much different, he found the King and Queen rather nice people. He was glad someone like them where their leaders, but when the King died, even he felt sad. Even the King once commented that Fraisier was a splendid lad. Something that Randolph isn't afraid to bring up.

In the following years the kingdom struggled to find a suitable champion many names were considered, even the prince offered to go but his mother wouldn't allow it. The most obvious choice seemed to Garran's son Tristan, since he was the most capable and skilled fighter they had. In the end the Queen chose Fraisier, the point being is because the night after the Funeral, Fraisier conveyed to Queen Miranda that King Averian tells her something only he would know. That and also the prophetic words of sending Fraisier as their champion. The Queen never did divulge why she chose Fraisier to the court but her word was decreed and Fraisier has been sent. Even though their champion himself, did not even wish to go. Once again his timidness has brought him into a whole new world of trouble.

So begins...

Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes

Posilidia Harbour, Main Street, Rumed


Being totted along inside a horse drawn carriage, sat the lean, pale nobleman, Fraisier Hughes. He sat as his white and gold trimmed carriage passed by the worn out townspeople. Even seeing such a grand sight as the pristine carriage, was only met with gloom. True some did marvel and wonder who was inside, otherwise they were too self-absorbed in their own pity. Fraisier felt likewise, in fact very lukewarm about all of this. Not to mention rather nervous to boot. He had very little confidence what he, and whoever else was dragged into this, were about to do. How can seven warriors beat a warrior, which a thousand warriors could not triumph?

It was pure ridiculousness! Still, even when Queen Miranda herself had commissioned him to enter, he did not voice objection. Sure, he is objecting to everything now, but no one will hear his discontent. Such was his life, always thinking and never acting. Always too shy and timid to even stand up for himself. What a poor choice for a champion indeed! Who cares if he has skill with a sword? It will make very little difference to a warrior who can destroy the world. Yet, in all of his timidness he was whisked henceforth and now finds himself in a dire situation. Fraisier could only look down in his palms and curse his shyness. Why can't he speak up!?

All of this self wallowing isn't going to change the facts. He was about to meet six other people and he hoped they will be nice fellows. He really hoped they were nice. Fraisier can't even remember a time he was so nervous. What are they like, what do they do? Are they heroes, nobles, warriors, or killers? Whatever they are he sure hoped they will treat him decently or if not, at least ignore him. He then looked forward as the carriage driver continued to steer the horse down the long street. Despite it being the main street, little activity could be found. It seemed Fraisier wasn't the only one who had a lack of confidence. He wish he could say otherwise, but he couldn't help but agree. They might as well be committing suicide.

"Maurice." "How much further?" Fraisier quietly asked.

"Eh?" "Oh can't be far now Lord Fraisier!" "I am almost positive we shall reach the harbour!" He spoke cheerfully.

"Good, good." Fraisier mumbled as he continued to sigh. What fate lies before him?

Soon the sea air began to invade Fraisier's nose. They were nearing their destination, it won't be long now till he will meet his fellow champions. He was not looking forward to it. In fact he can't help but start to shiver at the oncoming meeting. He hopes he won't make a fool of himself. Oh who is he kidding, he will screw up royally no doubt. Perhaps he will be the first one there, or maybe the last. Perhaps he could avoid introductions? No, he will have to meet them eventually, being together for a tournament with no other company besides enemies...he will have to speak sooner or later. Best do it now when there is no immediate dangers.

"Alright Lord Fraisier!" "We are here!" He spoke as he pulled the carriage up before the harbour. Maurice stepped down and opened the door with the sigil of a dove upon a vine, the symbol of the House of Hughes. Fraisier held on to his case were his clothing is contained. He stepped down from the steps of the carriage as he reached the cobblestone street. His rapier, Aurora, fastened against his hip. He was dressed in the obviously frilly Noble attire. He must certainly be out of place with warriors in more, battle oriented gear. Still he wasn't one to wear armor, it always threw him off balanced. Maurice then closed the door behind him.

"Shall I take your luggage Lord Fraisier?" Maurice asked.

"Why, yes thank you Maurice." He kindly spoke as he handed him the case.

"It's of no consequence Lord Fraisier." "I shall bring it to your ship." He spoke.

Fraisier merely nodded. Fraisier and Maurice walked along the pier and soon they came upon two men, who looked out of place as well. They must be the Champions. Nervous, Fraisier cautiously walked near them but he kept a fair distance. He was trembling and looked rather pale. He then nodded at them. "Uh...G-Greetings." He mumbled. Finding it hard to formulate words. Then Maurice stepped in.

"Good Day fine sirs!" He spoke with pep. "I am Maurice and may I introduce his lordship, Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes, of the House of Hughes of Perialis!" He spoke with much gusto. Fraisier only slightly looked their way, obviously rather embarrassed. He hated when others introduce him, especially in such grandoise a fashion. Now they most certainly think him a snob! He wish he could speak otherwise, but he was rather intimidated. He then gulped as he adjusted his neck tie. He then raised his hand and waved a hello, the best he could offer at the moment.

"So then, do you fine sirs know which ship you shall board?" Maurice asked, hoping to drop this load off for Fraisier.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Atonia Biyos Abbilati Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

ImageImage
The Nation of Saverilla Crest ~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~'.'~ The Abbilati Crest
Image
Image

The breeze was soft on her face, gently brushing across her skin, stroking it, cooling the small sunburn that she had received after falling asleep in the sun the day before. It was quite noticeable in her normally-pale skin, with her bright green hair only intensifying it.

Atonia sat atop the large, beaten-down old building that was once an apartment complex for several families. Not that it still wasn't; people still lived in the building. The environment was terrible, but it was a home, and a home it would remain.

Despite her upbringings, she respected the people that had less then she had growing up. As she sat, munching on an apple she had stolen from the basket of a rich man's maid, she mulled over her thoughts.

Yes, she was, indeed, a princess. But she did not feel like one. Instead, she felt as though she were a common thief at that moment in time. She had been traveling throughout the nations for several years now, learning the customs of the people of the nations she would one day be conversing with. She had been living among the middle class and poor people, and had often gone without to learn of their ways, to live as they did.

However, one month, two weeks, and four days earlier, she had received a letter via pigeon from her parents, the current rulers of the Nation of Saverilla. It stated that they wished for an audience with her, to which she agreed. It was not as though she and her parents did not get along; in fact, she adored seeing them. She only wished that they would respect the choices she made, respect her choices for her life. She understood why they were as protective as they had always been, but it could become a bit stifling at times.

Atonia bit the remainder of her apple and flicked it over the edge of the building, leaving it for the birds and other animals that would pick at the remains. She supposed it was time for her to drop in on the small group of men below her, who were no doubt the other competitors she would be joining for the tournament that was to come in only a few weeks time. She took a few moments to go over the meeting with her parents, though, and stretched out her legs before her, crossing then at the ankles.

They had welcomed her with open arms, and she had stayed in the kingdom for one week, to visit with her family and have some time to relax. Two days after she had arrived, her parents and the Council of Saverilla had held a meeting, in which she was to attend. She was then informed that she had been chosen to represent Saverilla in the tournament. She had heard rumors of the battle that would occur, but had not once thought that she would be the one chosen to fight for her Nation. She never once thought that her parents would have allowed it. But the Council's decision had always outweighed the King and Queen when it came to the protection of the kingdom, so they truly had no choice in it what-so-ever.

Finally, Atonia slid down the roof and to the edge, where she balanced perfectly. A church was beside the building, which then led to the docks, leaving a small road in between the two. The gathered men were standing before a statue of the Progeniter and had now surpassed introductions. She had been informed that, of the seven nations, she was the only girl, aside for one. Having traveled through each nation, she recognized the attire of each man in accordance to where they were from.

She flipped from the side of the building and atop the statue of the Progeniter - for she had never truly believed in him - and easily slid down his arm. The people that saw gasped and called further attention where she now was perched in the crook of his elbow, her derriere fitting perfectly into it. "Well, hello down there," she called cheerfully to the people staring in disgust and shock up at her. She swung her legs slowly back and forth, the white cape that was attached to her white, skin-tight clothes flowing with her movement. "What a fine day it is indeed, Perialis!" she cheered in agreement. She placed her hands on the statue's arms beside her and flipped lithely from it, dropping the several feet and landing without a problem in the middle of the small circle of men. She turned around and held a finger up in front of a poorly-dressed man and smiled. "You are from Tavaro, and," she turned to the remaining one, the one clad in heavy armor, " And you are from Luther," she stated confidently, stepping back and out of the circle as she did so. She straightened her outfit, crossed one arm behind her back, and one across her stomach, just above her hips, and then proceeded to bow. "Atonia Abbilati, Princess of Saverilla, at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you all," she smiled as she straightened and faced them. She turned to 'Perialis'. "I have actually been here for awhile. We'll all be taking that ship," she said, pointing to a medium-sized boat that sat in the water. "It will no doubt be a tad cramped, but we'll have to deal," she shrugged.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Atonia Biyos Abbilati Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes Character Portrait: Riley Paolimi
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Riley, Paolimi

Posilidia Harbour, East Dock, Rumed


The blue haired woman was quite an odd sight, her hair sat in a loose pony-tail, she had never travelled this far from her home, but she didn’t expect to be stared at so much, although now that she considered it, she wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, her hammer resting over her back, which was pretty much bare to the world, she was wearing what was essentially a chain mail sports bra and plate pants, when you thought about it from a combat sense, it was pretty much useless, but it was her “uniform” none the less and no one else could tell her otherwise.

The woman, Riley, hailed from Almekia and she was pissed off, her boat arrived on the opposite side of town and for what? All for her to walk all the way to the other port, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN. How was she meant to take this seriously when they screwed her around like this? No use complaining verbally, Riley quickly grabbed her rucksack and began to head off towards the other port, she was visibly angry and many people gave her a wide berth, she was muttering to herself,
“What a bunch of jokes, I mean really
. Dumbasses, the whole lot of them.. Im meant to represent them? Why not put me where im meant to be?”

Riley had almost arrived at her destination, in fact, she could see a small group of people, near the boat she was due to depart on, she began to increase her pace, eager to arrive at her destination, eager to meet the other six champions, each was representing the other nations, each had their own unique techniques and abilities. Riley began to run towards them, but that’s where she made a small mistake, she had bumped into a group of men, sailors she thought, either way, she had pissed them off, one of them shoved her, shifting her to the side one bit, big mistake, Riley was going to apologise, but she was pissed, she threw a quick right hook that sent the sailor flying into the wall, he was launched with such a force that he was instantly knocked unconscious. Riley was efficient, she grabbed her hammer off her back and stood, ready to fight, however the sailors wanted no part in it, tending to their unconscious comrade. With a nod, Riley quickly readjusted her equipment and went forth to join the other champion’s, she shrugged and rubbed her hair and introduced herself,

“Umm
 Hi Im Riley, from Almekia, I hope you guys can actually fight, unlike those weaklings” She said as she pointed back at the sailors, the one who received her punch was still unconscious, perhaps she went too far?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Atonia Biyos Abbilati Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes Character Portrait: Galen Character Portrait: Riley Paolimi
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Meskal Kender

Polisidia Harbour, Docks, Rumed


Meskal had barely sat down to pray before he was rudely disturbed by the second of the champions to show their face on the docks proper. Meskal spared a second searching glance for the man, but he could discover little of interest. A plain man wearing skilfully made, practical clothes. He supposed that was for the best, no need to bring one’s fineries here, especially when they will be of no use against the Scion. When the young man spoke Meskal frowned, unfolded his hands and stood up, clearly irked by the man’s words. But before he could speak two new arrivals presented themselves, these two more like Meskal himself and one of them obviously of noble birth. Meskal listened to the second man’s introduction and was sad to hear the silent despondent one was supposed to be the champion of Perialis. But the sudden arrivals did not end there, for it seemed Meskal had arrived but moments before the other champions.

A woman dressed in finer clothing, with a familiar face, though he could not quite place her. Meskal snorted when she introduced herself as Princess of Saverilla. Either she was lying or anyone with even the slightest inkling of power in Saverilla had lost their minds. His eyes narrowed as he studied the strange woman, trying to figure out if she was truly the Princess of Saverilla by sight alone. His concentration was quickly broken however when the sound of something hitting another thing with force came from the dockside buildings. A quick glance in that direction revealed to him the source of the unusual sound. A fairly tall woman, standing near an a group of sailors, one of which was either slumped against the wall and unconscious, or taking a nap. When the woman introduced herself as the champion of Almekia, Meskal nodded in greeting. And finally a giant of man, taller even than Meskal appeared as if out of nowhere and hovered a few feet away from the newly formed group and gave a simple word of greeting.

These were to be his comrades in arms then? This poor bunch of thugs, princesses, spoiled brats and giants? Perhaps they didn’t have as big of a chance as Meskal had hoped at first, if this was the best the other nations could produce. With a grimace he looked over his fellow champions and took a deep breath. With an accusatory finger pointed in Damien’s direction Meskal finally spoke. ”How sad, are you so frightened that you would take away another man’s solace in prayer? Or are you simply a pathetic cur, not willing to spare another a bit of happiness in their beliefs?” He shook his head in disappointment and turned to the woman who seemed to have sent a sailor flying with just one punch. ”And you! What point was there in hitting that poor man? Clearly he was no match for you. Did you hit him simply to feed your own ego by showing others how strong you are, or do you enjoy hurting others so much you couldn’t help yourself?"

Meskal shook his head in disappointment once more, before turning to the despondent looking youth. ”And you! That man won’t be fighting in the tournament for you, so don’t let him speak for you either, lest he says something you will regret.” Meskal shook his head one final time before he straightened his back and turned his piercing gaze to each of his fellow champions in turn. ”Now that I have said my piece, I shall introduce myself.” Meskal said, his chest sticking outward slightly and his eyes slowly going over his fellow champions, even as his voice grew a little louder for his introduction. ”I am Meskal Kender, master of the house Kender and chosen champion of Luther. I greet you fellow champions and pray we will be victorious in our struggle against the foul Scion!” Meskal spoke, his voice filled with pride and conviction, even as the fire of the little candle still situated on his trunk seemed to suddenly burn more fiercely.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Atonia Biyos Abbilati Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes Character Portrait: Galen Character Portrait: Riley Paolimi
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Damian Maleck

Polisida Harbour, Docks, Rumed


Damian examined his new allies as they arrived, his hightened rate of thought allowing him to gain more information in a shorter time. He already wasn't too fond of the noble, as he appeared to represent the average traits of a royal knight, religous and honorable to a fault. Damian was honorable as well, but he abided by a different kind of honor: the honor of a thief. This was an idea he doubted any of the other champions would understand or respect, but he wasn't going to change his ways for them.

The man was about to respond when another champion arrived. This one was accompanied by what looked like a servant, and reaked of the priviliged life. If Damian could place bets on who the weakest link would be, he'd bet his entire savings on this guy. It didn't help that the man stunk of doubt and fear as well. Damian, showing no sign of it outwardly, grimaced on the inside. Only the most daring and bold would survive this, and this man didn't have an ounce of either.

Then, Damian was surprised by another member atop the Progenitor's statue. Her clothing clearly signified nobility, but her actions indicated otherwise. Damian could not help but be impressed. As she introduced herself as a princess, he couldn't help but be even more impressed. Perhaps he would not be entirely lonely on this buisness. Any noble who could act like this in public, let alone an princess, had Damian's respect, though not neccesarilly trust. Damian but everyone new to him at arm's length out of habit. In his buisness, misplaced trust could get you killed.

Then Damian saw another girl approach, after having sent a sailor flying. He couldn't tell from what walk of life she hailed from, but she clearly could fight. Finally, a giant knight appeared, who apparently had been watching the whole time from his relaxed position. He didn't seem to be a talker, which Damian respected. He gave a curt nod back to the knight.

The first champion finally spoke up, but appeared to be just as self-righteous and predictable as Damain expected, lecturing him on interupting prayer, and introducing himself with the most pompous introduction Damian every saw. "Typical noble" Damian muttered under his breath. He approached the pompous jerk and gave retort to his little speech, all while absentmindedly tapping his fingers together on both hands. "Afraid? If I had any doubts that I would survive this, I wouldn't be here. I came here of my own free choice. I also dislike the term cur as much as I do thug or brigand. They do a diservice and act as misnomers of my profession. Call me that again, and you may find your belongings magically appearing in my cabin. Don't preach your Progenitor crap to me either. The Progenitor has never offered me any help before, so why would he now?"

Turning away from the morbid buisness of threats, he addressed the whole group. "Now that most of us are here, let me introduce myself." He decided to give a traditional Tavaro greeting, though he dealt with an outside crowd. He wanted them to know exactly what he was. "I am Damian Maleck of Tavaro. Son of no one." He turned to the princess of Saverilla, as he wanted allies within this group as quickly as possible. "Nice technique back there." he said. "Pardon me if I offend, but I wouldn't expect a princess to carry on like that. That was impressive for one of means."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Meskal Kender Character Portrait: Damian Maleck Character Portrait: Atonia Biyos Abbilati Character Portrait: Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes Character Portrait: Galen Character Portrait: Riley Paolimi
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Fraisier Jourdain Florentine Hughes

Posilidia Harbor, Rumed


Fraisier nearly jumped out of his skin as the, formerly silent knight, snapped at the majority of them. Already Fraisier felt even more useless than previously. He knew he generated a bad impression, but he didn't mean it. He has quite the difficulty in trying to make new friends, or at least acquaintances. Still the one called Meskal of The House of Kender, was correct in his assumptions. Fraisier isn't the most courageous man. He wasn't cowering behind Maurice, and probably a degree of this trouble was in fact wrought by him. Still Fraisier bares no ill will to anyone except himself. He always did blame himself before anyone else. Then came more unnecessary fire upon himself.

"Now you listen here Kender of Luther!" "That is no tone to speak with a man you haven't even begun to know!" "Young Master Fraisier is an kind and gentle soul!" "There is no need to make such worded threa-" He was cut off by Fraisier's hand on his shoulder.

"Please, he is correct." Fraisier mumbled in his ear.

"But Master Fraisier, that is no way to speak to someone." Maurice argued.

"No, it is quite alright, I understand his criticism...I can't rely on anyone." Fraisier rather solemnly spoke.

"Master Fraisier." Maurice spoke as his face went from outrage to a frown. "I apologize for speaking out of terms...I am only a simple servant, please forgive my impudence." Maurice humbly spoke.

"Well Master Hughes, thanks to the kind Mistress here I shall take your luggage upon the boat." Maurice spoke.

"Uh yes, I'll join you." Fraisier spoke.

"Are you sure?" "Carrying luggage isn't your concern." Maurice spoke.

"No, I'm going to have to take care of it anyway, your not commissioned for the voyage to Ulmath." Fraisier spoke.

Maurice sighed. "I know...lets get it done and I'll say my goodbyes." Maurice spoke Fraisier took the last of the luggage. Fraisier then bowed before the others, still having a nervous look on his face as he attempted eye contact and then quickly scooted off.

Fraisier and Maurice entered the ship chartered for their voyage as the two Perialisians bored the ship. They entered one of the cabins and began to place the assorted luggage within. Maurice then looked over to Fraisier.

"Well good luck Master Fraisier." "It was an honor to serve you for the time we spent." Maurice spoke as he gave out his hand. "Oh wait sorry, I'm supposed to bow." Maurice corrected himself.

"No it is quite alright, I'm actually more comfortable with a handshake." He spoke with a smile.

"Are you sure?" "Handshakes are for common folk." Maurice spoke flabbergasted.

"In the time you have known me, you should know I don't care about that stuff, here." Fraisier spoke as he held out his hand.

Nearly beside himself he took his hand and shook it. "It truly was a please, Young Master Fraisier." Maurice spoke as he stopped. "I'll be telling Master Hughes that you safely arrived on schedule." "Please...take care of yourself Master Fraisier." Maurice spoke with apprehension.

"I shall, tell my family I love them." Fraisier spoke as Maurice nodded and left him alone.

Maurice came upon the dock once more as he exited the ship and returned to their pier where the other champions are. He looked towards them all. He then bowed before them.

"Please...do your best." Maurice spoke to them as he left for the carriage. He sat up upon the seat and saw Fraisier standing upon the deck as he waved goodbye. Maurice waved back and then whipped the horses, ushering them to move, and so they did. Soon the elegant and richly carriage disappeared within the city streets. Now Fraisier was truly alone. Already he wasn't sure what kind of company these champions would keep. Already, it would seem he won't be making any friends again. They all seem either confidant or aggressive. Perhaps qualities needed for such a job, and Fraisier is neither of those things. He certainly was the odd man out.

He did wonder of the other knight, out of all of them, he is the most mysterious. Not to mention, some what distant himself. Perhaps Fraisier isn't alone at being alone. He sympathized with the large man, but he can't assume anything. A Knight is a man of war, who knows what kind of person he will turn out to be. The same could be said of all of them. He really shouldn't make unfounded claims, but their behavior thus far haven't spoken either wise. Still, Fraisier can't help but fall into despair, that he will hopelessly fail to gain favor. This will truly be a long voyage.