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Description

The second thing one notices is about Rafe is how there is nothing about him that is not practical, worn in or well-used. The leather of his boots has been cracked and softened through use and his navy trousers are slim-cut against his tall, well-built frame. A thick grey jacket covers an off-white shirt and battered traditionally-patterned waistcoat. His unruly dark hair is a little longer than the fashion and hangs in his eyes when not pushed back by the wind. He is recently unshaven and a few days worth of stubble is present on his jaw.
The first thing one notices are his eyes which are liquid green and bright against the tanned skin of his face, framed by the crinkles that form in the outer corners when he smiles or squints in sun. A pair of straight brows and a crooked once-broken nose lend a little severity to his features that is off-set by the potential for expression in his mobile mouth. Although the colour of his eyes, perhaps a suggestion in the shape of his nose and the relative paleness of his skin make him his father's son, his mother's heritage is clear in his broad cheekbones and a slight fullness in his lips.

Personality

Quick-witted, charming, with an unusual penchant for acting, Rafe is also mercenary, self-serving and defensively distances himself from anyone who might suspect him of caring about them. That said, he can also be brave to the point of self-destruction if he feels enough to merit it, which admittedly isn't very often.

Equipment

An ancient Spanish handgun, two old but recently-sharpened hunting knives, a woven hammock and oiled waterproof top-sheet, tinderbox, canteen, a few rations, a compass, a hip-flask filled with tequila and a Spanish translation of Goethe's Faust.

History

Son of a disgraced British aristocrat and an indigenous Otavaleños woman, Rafe grew up in between two worlds. On the one hand was the community of eccentric ex-pats who flocked to his his father and on the other was the Andean Indian culture his mother still maintained ties to. His father; Sir Richard Hughes had fled Britain five years before his son's birth to escape charges of fraud and, after flitting around Latin America, had finally settled in the Imbabura Province of Ecuador. There he lived like a king; the meagre amount he had managed to con out of Great Britain was worth a fortune in Ecuador. Moving into a rambling white-washed Spanish colonial house, he became a common feature in the streets of Ibarra and soon attracted a motley court of rag-tag Europeans. Anahuarque Barrera, the pretty daughter of a upper-middle class merchant caught Sir Richard's eye and she, enthralled by the exotic nature of this white-skinned man and with a taste for adventure, married him. Soon after, Rafe was born.

His parents took a laissez-faire attitude to his upbringing and Rafe spent much of his time in the maze-like alleyways of Ibarra playing with other children of the city. In addition to the English he learnt from birth and the Spanish not long afterwards, he also became fluent in the various dialects of Quechuan spoken by the indigenous peoples in the region. In school, he had a flare for talking his way out of punishment but not much else except for reading and history. The Incan legacy of his country fascinated him, as it did his father, and once he was old enough to defy the warnings of his mother, he ventured out to explore the ruins left in the thick jungle.

When he was nineteen, his father's heart, already waning from years of rich food and company, finally gave up. Leaving his mother to move into a little house on the outskirts of the city bought with the money Sir Richard had left her, Rafe travelled south. Armed with his knowledge of Quechuan and a basic understanding of Incan myth (the hole in which he could easily fill in with elaboration and outright lies), he eked out a living assisting intrepid tourists, archaeologists and explorers in finding accommodation, food and equipment as well as leading them out into the jungle as a scout. It was easy to exploit their inherent prejudices (after all, he was almost white and therefore certainly more trustworthy than the dozens of Andean Indians offering their services in the eyes of many Europeans) in exchange for the odd commission from guest-house owners and a hefty payment for helping Western archaeologists to 'discover' a ruin the locals had known about for centuries.

When he was contacted by an explorers society in London about the treasure of the Llanganates Mountains, he was more than happy to indulge them in their wishes. Everyone in Ecuador knew the treasure was nothing but a myth but hell, if they wanted to go searching for it then Rafe would certainly help. In exchange for a few sucres, of course...

Raphael Hughes's Story