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Loras Edwards

"Power resides where men belive it resides."

0 · 1,982 views · located in Tibera

a character in “The Price of Blood”, as played by Bromander Shepard

Description

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"Chaos isn't a pit, chaos is a ladder."




The Basics




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Full Name: Loras Christoph Edwards
Nicknames: The Knight of Flowers
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Rank/Title: Captain of Seabel’s Royal Guard 'Queens Guard'
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual but only publically known as a heterosexual
Kingdom/Alliance: Technically Seabel but his true motivations lie elsewhere




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color:
Eye Color: Green
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 171lbs
Tattoos: None
Piercings: None
Scars: None
Description: Loras is a handsome young man, and that's putting it mildly. A youth of exceptional beauty and grace that he earned the moniker The Knight of Flowers for so often is he compared to a rose. Green eyes with soft, innocent features that hide the thorns underneath. So kind and inviting is his appearance he can very nearly entrance those around him, be that man or woman much to his enjoyment and benefit. His hair is a soft chestnut that falls down in short curls, often boyishly messed about his head. His smile is mischievous and infectious at times, seductive at others and down right wicked and dark when one of his plots has panned out. His body is one of privilege and training. He has spent much of his life learning how to ride a horse, shoot a bow and fight with a long sword and shield. While he's never truly devoted himself to the martial arts his skill and training has shaped his body into a lean specimen of youthful strength and virility. So often is he on duty that he is most commonly seen in his armored uniform which tunic with his finely crafted shinning steel armor, inlaid with silver depictions of vines and roses. The crimson and gold tunic bears the sigil of House Lannister, the ruling family of Seabel.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Cunning, Seductive, Ambitious, Charming}
A rose by any other name Loras is beautiful to be certain and his personality only enhances that allure. Charming, well spoken, soft of voice that is almost cooing and velvety while at the same time having a strength to it that is comforting. Loras knows how to smile and say all the right things, befriend anyone he choose and seducing everyone else. He has few enemies for so easy it is to like this youth. Yet like any rose in any garden, this rose has thorns. One needs only to catch his gaze, shifting from everyone in a room, or the cunning, almost predatory way he singles someone out to exploit. Characteristics picked up from his father yet used in a completely different way Loras truly believes that no means is off limits to accomplish an end. A young man who truly feels invincible he is confident in the belief that if he can't sleep or fight his way out of a problem he can always talk his way out. Silver tongued is trait often attributed to Loras Edwards. A young man born of a wealthy and prominent house rivaled only by the Lannisters of Casterly Rock perhaps it was destined for its two golden sons to be rivals. There is a part of Loras that is obsessed with Alistair Lannister, his skill in battle, his looks, his wealth and his legend. Many nights he can think of nothing better than to eclipse the legend of The Lion of Casterly Rock.
Hobbies:
Seducing men and women alike, writing poetry, Playing chess
Habits:
Purses his lips both when thinking and when he disapproves of something, fiddling with his a particular curl in his hair at the nape of his neck
Oddities:
Obsessive tendencies, sex addiction, narcissist
Likes/Loves:
  • Alistair Lannister
  • Beauty
  • Roses
  • Sex
  • Poetry
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Alistair Lannister
  • Slow witted individual
  • Anyone more intelligent than he is
  • Children
  • Lions/cats




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin: Falor
History:
Besides the royal family there are two families in the whole of the world whose names are worth knowing and those names are Lannister and Edwards. Both exceedingly wealthy, both exceptionally powerful and both vying for power over the other for as long as anyone can remember. Loras is the next generation of the feud. Born the son of the brilliant and influential Christoph Edwards, Loras has never known hunger or hardship. He grew up in the shadow of kings and walked in their circles, no different from any of them. His father made it a point to ensure his son would not be like other lords sons raised to be knights or some such nonsense and instead made certain Loras concentrated on his studies. Loras speaks over a dozen different languages, can read and write classical poetry and literature. He has studied in the schools of alchemy, astrology, linguistics, medicine, botony and history both political and world events. Though at an early age Loras had destined himself for a single goal, to utterly eclipse the legend of the rival Lannisters eldest son Alistair Lannister. Loras always felt as if he was being compared to Alistair and rightly so. As the two eldest sons of the most influential and wealthy families it was only natural. Alistair being ten years Loras's senior he seemed already leagues ahead of him in every way. Loras was only four years old when Alistair earned his knighthood. As soon as he was old enough he began had his father's master at arms begin to teach him how to fight. While his father didn't necessarily approve nor did he stop him, seeing it as another tool in his sons arsenal. The problem with Loras was that he wanted to be able to do everything and didn't have the discipline to stick it out in any once school of training. He learned with the sword a while before he got frustrated and went to the bow, then spear, then mounted fighting and so on. That being said Loras is quite gifted with a long sword but has never actually seen real combat. He's always managed to avoid the fighting and while technically active in the last war he's never spilled another man's blood personally. That is not to say he's never killed anyone, he's just never done it himself, usually acting through an agent of some sort. A part of Loras yearns to feel the rush of another mans blood pouring over his hand as he draws his last breath.

At seventeen years of age Loras earned his knighthood on the tourney field after winning both the single combat melee and the joust in stunning fashion. He was knighted by the late king only months before his death. To this day a part of Loras is quite bitter Alistair Lannister did not compete in said tourney. Shortly after his knighthood talks of a marriage were in place, Loras was to marry the beautiful daughter of the king. Loras however had no desire to marry, princess or not. That was until he'd learned that the proposal was refused and instead the princess was married of to Alistair. Loras was enraged, consumed with a burning hate feeling as though the Lannister has robbed him of his prize. Rage cooled, and the fire became embers once Loras began to put his mind to the task of slaying the lion. He introduced himself to the princess the very next day telling her how saddened he was that they would not be wed. He told how beautiful she was and that he would always cherish what could have been, the seed that would grow. Later on once the king died, his roots began to grow.

Grow they did and they grew strong. He managed to work his way into the Lady Lannisters good graces, going so far as earning himself a place on her honor guard while Alistair was away with the army fighting her brothers forces. Once the war was over Alistair, now king, returned to a coronation where his wife was already seated on the throne, Loras placing the throne on her head as softly and tenderly as a lover would place a kiss. Loras cherishes that look on Alistair's face to this day. Every day Loras works to sully the reputation of Alistair Lannister while polluting the relationship between him and his wife. His plans worked out better than he could have ever imagined when the queen finally relented to his constant, subtle flirtations and seductions and welcomed him in secret into her bed. In that night, he was king, he had taken everything away from Alistair and he reveled in it. Now with the decennial celebration of peace and unity in the Western Palace arriving shortly Loras is eager to put his latest and most ambitious plan into action, all the while with a love sick queen thoroughly ensnared in his grasp like a dove caught by the vines. As for the king, Loras knows better than to confront a beast head on. Better to wait for the lion to sleep. While it slumbers he can sneak up and slip his blade into his heart.
Happiest Memory: Having sex with Alistair's wife for the first time
Saddest Memory: The day he found out that he betrothal had been given to Alistair Lannister




Face Claim: Max Irons

So begins...

Loras Edwards's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Alistair Lannister Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards
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Alistair could not escape the ballroom fat enough. Sandor and Brienne struggled to keep up with him. His jaw was tensed and his fists were clenched. He'd come so close, so close to her after so long but his damn guilt plagued him, the truth of what he'd done like a crimson sin he wished he could just hide his eyes from. He'd lost Rosalie and instead of fighting for her he'd ensure she'd never want him again. He'd whored and drank but it was this last transgression that haunted him the most. A transgression of not just the flesh but of the mind and possibly the heart. Lorelle was her lady in waiting, the one person in her service who should have her trust and even that Alistair had sullied. He hated himself, a part of him hated her.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?"

Brinne had asked, jogging up to his side as the exited the ball room and made for the stairwell leading to the kitchens.

"I need a drink."

Alistair growled as he threw open the door to the kitchens, startling a few of the staff as he headed for the bottles of wine.

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His father left him, Loras standing alone on the outskirts of the party. The words his father had spoken to him, echoing in his mind. "The lion is not to be underestimated,". Which lion however, that was what Loras was considering. There was the proud and noble fierce lion. Then there was the older, cunning and merciless lion. Lastly there was of course the younger, stunted and grotesque but dangerously intelligent. Loras weighed his threats and chose a target. He knew his own strength and what he could bring to bear against his enemies and there was only once who he felt could match his guile. As if it was a sign he saw Rosalie darting from the ball. Alistair had hurt her, again. Loras was well versed in knowing what she looked like after her cruel husbands treatment of her. She was his to save, so he had lions to slay, one at a time, starting from the bottom up. With a wicked grin Loras Edwards turned and left the hall. This night shall be the night that the good people of Seabel shall sleep soundly no more.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Celia Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Corianna Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Loras Edwards Character Portrait: Rosalie Lannister Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards
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The King's hand brushed lightly against the scar that still graced his left cheek -- a bitter-sweet reminder of how he had come to stand here beside Genevieve. His coronation, given the lack of spiritual leaders in the widely-diverse Ostwall, was headed by one of the eldest chieftains within the kingdom's borders, a man of a staggering seventy-seven years. Ronan's hair and beard had grown out to appear more like his people, from whom he required approval. The thick fur of a bear, draped about his shoulders, only helped further that image and reflect the symbol of his father. The pelts seemed to weigh him down greatly. They most certainly were the reason beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow. Or perhaps they came from the worry that, somehow, they'd trace the murder back to him.

The death of Ostwall's monarch had brought the festivities to a screeching halt. Ulfric's burial had been a ceremonious one, and the kingdom had grieved for months, meaning the current coronation had been unable to occur until now, two months later. In the mean time, Ronan suddenly found himself in the shoes of a man he had only, until then, dreamed of becoming. He played the part well, and Genevieve had as well. It was only when they were behind closed doors that she lost her air of nearly-constant mourning. Even then, he had not permitted her to be joyful in public until far after he had announced his plans to wed her.

Ronan moved his hand to brush at his brow then, and as he looked up at the chieftain before him, he noticed Celia just a bit off, holding Volundr. His son. He could never acknowledge the boy as his own, for the kingdom believed he had been the child of Ulfric and Genevieve, but Ronan told himself that the young prince should rightfully bear the surname of Ronanson. It pained him that it should be otherwise.

The chieftain stumbled over his words, causing Ronan to look back at him. Ostwall, unlike the other two kingdoms, had never truly adopted the more traditional concept of coronation until Ronan had insisted upon modernizing the nation. The chieftain had little idea as to what he was doing, and the words on the page made little sense given the fact that he was just barely literate. His stammering ended soon, thankfully, and he moved on to the crowning of the royals. The crown that was placed upon his head was nothing more than a thick band of iron with ornate patterns carved into it. The real beauty and power laid in the heavy chain that was placed about his neck, further weighing him down.

It was a relic dating back to times before even Falor had been unified when the clans of the North would give the chain to the strongest chieftain in the land. Over time, the simple chain had been added to in terms of links and precious stones until it hung heavy enough that it was only used for ceremonies. This, of course, was one of them.

As Genevieve went through a similar ceremony, receiving a less burdensome crown and chain that he had had created, for up until this point, the consort of the king of Ostwall had no political say. Though he had most certainly received the approval of the others in his kingdom, he knew they hardly approved of this action. Nevertheless, he turned around to great his people, hand reaching for Genevieve's as he did so. The chieftain cleared his voice once more before speaking in his thickly accented voice.

"I present to you King Ronan Bjorn Ulfricson, first of his name, and his queen, Genevieve Hansdottir of Falor, first of her name."




The proceeding festivities were a welcome change for all in Ostwall, having been in a period of nearly perpetual mourning for two months. A mixture of traditional and foreign instruments played, inspiring many to leave the banquet table in order to dance. Ronan, a bit too drunk by then to gracefully find his footing, resolved to stay at the table where he held the one month old Volundr in his arms. The King brushed a finger along the boy's cheek, laughing as the young prince gripped it and inspected the calloused finger with fascination.

"It's wonderful, is it not?" he remarked, looking out on the crowd of nobles, local and foreign, who occupied the hall. "It's ours now." Ronan continued to look about, meeting the gaze of a few nobles who watched the pair closely, with judgement visible in their eyes even from at the royals' place at the table. He knew they spoke about him and Genevieve quite often. It was most certainly scandalous for anyone to marry their widowed stepmother, let alone just months after her husband's death, but there were no laws regarding marriage in Ostwall.

Propping the small child up in his lap, Ronan gripped his tankard of ale and sipped from it for a moment, positioning it afterwards so that it attempted to block out the gossiping nobles. It hardly helped, however, and he simply turned back to Genevieve with his arm once more around Volundr.