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Baxter Vane

Baxter is the swordsman fondly called "One Blade" (Deceased)

0 · 323 views · located in Medieval Kingdom

a character in “Arabella Demonte - Rogue Princess”, as played by Vio-Lance


Name: Baxter Aixo (Aches-o) Vane (Vay-nuh)


Gender: Male

Title(s): Soldier, Captain

Style: Bax, One-Blade

Physical Description: Bax is tall, and lean, but not in an extreme way. He's about 6'4, and 175 pounds. His skin darkened, but still quite light; a medium tan. His eyes are a odd brown, a shade that is very light, that look almost yellow. His hair is a dark blonde, and kept short, not dropping below his chin. It's thick, but straight. However, what sticks out most about Baxter is his left arm...or lack of one. Cut off at the shoulder, Baxter's left arm is missing. Most of his clothing is tied off at the sleeve, or the sleeve is cut off. He doesnt quite care what others say or think about it; he wears it like a badge of courage and strength.

His normal attire usually consists of muscle shirts, or informal shirts, with a nice collared outer vest that stays unbuttoned. Very rarely will he actually be seen being formal. His footwear consists of dark leather boots, with steel fronts. When in battle, he wears leather armor, with a layer of chainmail underneith.



Personality: Baxter is a very 'casual' man. He doesnt address another any more special than the last, with the exception of royalty and those of high military rank. He's relaxed, and quite friendly. He's joking, and social as well. He usually greets newcomers with a smile and a pat on the shoulder, like they had met before, or were old friends. He rarely is mean or angry outside of combat...

However, in a fight, Baxter is cool headed, but anyone around him could sense his inner fury, trying to burst from the man's battered and abused body. He has morals, and follows them strictly. He always give his opponent fair chance to run or defend themselves, and rarely attacks an unarmed opponent. He dispises assassins and mercenaries, discribing their alliegence to their paycheck as foolish.


Baxter's Armor: Leather armor with a thick cloth shirt over chainmail, which is over another lighter cloth shirt.

Baxter's Weapon: It's a longsword that he had specially forged for him.


History: Baxter was raised a poor boy in the empire. He never had much, but he always took the things he had as treasure. His father was a soldier and his mother was a chef. While his father was away, he learned to cook from his mother, and when he was there, he learned swordsmanship. It was at the young age of 12 he surpassed his father in skill, but not yet strength. He continued to train, however, untill he was able to beat knights and guards, whom were happy to see him. His mother was famous for cooking large meals for whomever stepped into their household. Their entire family was known for their generousity and kindness, and Baxter was no exception.
At age 16, Baxter's father passed of unknown illness, and Baxter took his place in the Army. He rose quickly through the ranks, becoming one of the best in his regiment. In fact, there were few who could beat him in swordsplay. On the battlefield he could manage four and five soldiers at a time. He became notorious for his skill.
Later, at the age of twenty however, his renoun would come to an end. Baxter had finally met his match. A man encased in scarlet iron plate was not only able to defeat him, but mortally wound him....

Baxter roared, charging the man in the crimson plate yet again. He knew not whom this man was, but he fought like a demon. He was covered head to toe in that red plate, but, Gods, he was as fast as Baxter! He moved around gracefully in constant, elegant motions, his blade wheeling around his form in almost a dance of it's own mind. How was this man so fearsome in combat? How strong was he?!

The man blocked Baxter's blade again, the heavy clang of steel meeting filled the air. The man spun, bringing the dull side of his blade to Baxter's ribcage, a dangerously loud crack filling the air. Baxter barked in pain, his left hand shooting to the wounded area. The man cracked his ribs through his armor...unbelieveable! Determined, Baxter brought his blade overhead again, attempting to rend the man, but again, no avail. Their blades clashed numerous times, sparks filling the air along with the metals "Twang"s. The man was matching Baxter, the younger man's blade not touching him once. Then Baxter felt the familiar sting on his flesh being flayed, leaving a gash across his left forehead, going down at a sharp rate, narrowly missing his eye. But it didnt stop his assault. The man in red slugged Baxter in the jaw, causing him to stumble back a few steps. In a cold voice, altered by his grim helm he said, "I've let you live long enough!" Baxter was still dazed by the sharp impact that he was unable to defend himself. He felt un describable pain as the man plunged his blade through Baxter's chest, piercing his sternum at a slight angle, slimly missing his lung and spine. The metal weapon pertruded his back, blood dripping from both sides. Withdrawing his weapon from his foe, the man watched Baxter fall to his knees, breathless and beaten. He raised his blade high, and brought it down in a decimating vertical strike, removing Baxter's arm in a clean, quick motion, causing the young man to scream in agony. The last thing Baxter heard was "Shut your mouth, cur!" before an iron plated boot came down upon the top of his head. The blow knocked him out cold, his body flopping down on the ground.

When Baxter awoke he was still in the battlefield where he fell, lying in a pool of his own crimson life-fluid. He didnt know why he was still on this plane. He should be dead...but he wasnt going to give this chance at life up. He left his standard issue blade where it lay, reaching in front of him, his nails digging into the dirt and sand, and using what strength he had, pulled himself forward. He was light headed. He didnt know what he could do, but hell if he was going to die lying down waiting. It was only a chance that a messenger of war found him, and brought him back to the kingdom. He spent many months in a bed, and many believed he'd never make it. But sure enough, he pulled through, though covered in scars and wounds. He spent the next five years of his life honing his new fighting style. He'd never be as good as he was before the encounter, but he could get close. He was still much more skilled than any one of the guards or knights that served the kingdom currently, or of which he knew. He continues to serve in the military, though in will, not being made. He was given pardon from manditory service, but he continues to fight in hopes of finding the Man in Scarlet Plate again. He doesnt seek vengence; he seeks resolution.

So begins...

Baxter Vane's Story