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Cedric Lancaster

He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.

0 · 301 views · located in Seabel

a character in “Forged of Blood and Steel.”, originally authored by Scarlet Loup, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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β€œHe who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.”
-Socrates





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Role: Prince of the North

Gender: Male

Age: Twenty-three

Nicknames: The name Cedric does not come with any nicknames, besides Ced or, if you are desperate enough, Ric(k). Only those close enough to Cedric may call him these names. Others are expected to call him by his title or "sir" or simply Cedric.





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Height: Six feet, one inch

Weight: Two hundred and five pounds

Build: Strong and sturdy with well-defined muscles especially in his arms and abdomen

Hair Colour: Cedric's hair is such a dark brown, it would be considered black by most.

Eye Colour: His eyes are best described as light, hazy green with a tinge of gray around the outside.

Scars?: Cedric doesn't have many scars, considering he's never been in a war. However, he wears a few scars from training on his arms with pride, bragging occasionally about them to women and greatly exaggerating the circumstances surrounding the "wounds". He also has the occasional bruise or welt from the slap of an upset woman. These too, he tries to show off as battle wounds.

Brief Written Description: Built like a true Lancaster, Cedric stands at six feet and one inch, just a bit below his elder brother. In weight, however, he only falls five pounds short of his brother. Ced is a very well-built man with thick biceps and chiseled abdominals. This exterior appearance can be extremely intimidating to most (then again, who would mess with a man who stood so tall and was built so sturdily?). Ced has dark hair, which he usually keeps cut short. A thick stubble covers his chin and cheeks, though he trims it short for important events. Cedric's one defining trait, making him somewhat different than his elder brother, the king, is his eyes; light green with a mixture of gray, they certainly catch the attention of most. While he's never served in an actual war, he does bare a multitude of scars from training exercises.

Clothing Preference: Cedric is quite the show-off when it comes to clothing. For training, he usually only clads himself in trousers and boots, going shirtless. Inside, with just his family, he can be found wearing well-fitting tunics with trousers of some material and leather boots. For social events, he certainly goes all out, wearing fine fabrics in brilliant golds or dark greens. It is more for impressing women, however, than actually setting a good example for his family.





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Skills:

* Cedric inherited a natural charisma from his father and has had his brother's charisma rub off on him. He speaks well in social situations, but can seem a bit rude or innappropriate in other situations due to his forceful ways of speaking and acting.
* Ced has a knack for crossbows. While he can wield a sword relatively well and decapitate a few training dummies, his real strength lies in his aim.
* Despite having not proved his strength in battle or having any power besides the title of Prince, Cedric is known for using his strength and muscle in arguments, going so far as to threaten if need be. He uses his fists more than his words.
* Let's just say he's quite talented in bed, too.

Quirks:

* He's shallow and hardly considers other's opinions.
* Cedric can drink much more than most men without becoming drunk. This is partially due to his body size but also due to the tolerance he's built up over the years of drinking.


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Likes:

* Women
* Alcohol
* Control or power
* Fighting and sparring
* Glory or being respected/worshiped
* Crossbows
* Hunting
* Talking
* Sex

Dislikes:

* Being told what to do
* Disrespect
* Loud-mouths (besides himself)
* Women who reject his advances
* Lectures
* Fire
* Oceans
* Thunderstorms
* Working

Fears:

* One of Cedric's greatest fears, though it is quite trivial, is the fear of being rejected by a woman in a very public situation. His ego has swollen to such a size that, should such a thing occur, he'd become greatly ashamed.
* Though he is shallow, Ced, deep down, fears for his life and the life of his family in the impending war.

Written Description: In one phrase, Cedric is an arrogant, self-serving playboy. Besides his alluring charisma, strength, and skill in bed, Ced really has no redeeming qualities. He's lazy, planning to do no more work in his life than his has to while still reaping the benefits. Though so young, he's shallow and naive, caring only for his opinion and what he thinks. His passion for good alcohol and even better women constantly blinds him from the real world. In fact, it's a miracle he even knows of the meeting being held. Athletic and charismatic, he's a people person who could spend an entire day doing nothing more than hunting with his brother's court. He would do so, actually, if he weren't hungover most mornings. He has a minor fear of fires, having burned himself as a child, and of oceans, fearing he'll drown despite his strength. He actually can't swim, surprisingly enough. Thunderstorms are just annoying to him; they disrupt things and make the ground outside wet and hard to practice on. One of his only fears is that of losing his family. He will protect them through thick and thin, despite his usual ways.





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Relationship Status: He is single, although certainly not looking for a long time relationship.

Family: Orion Lancaster (brother); Amalie Lancaster (sister-in-law); Elenna Lancaster (sister)





Secret Word: This is War

So begins...

Cedric Lancaster's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amalie Lancaster Character Portrait: Elenna Lancaster Character Portrait: Orion Lancaster Character Portrait: Cedric Lancaster
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[i"Heavenly Father, I come to you with a question, and like most I am not aware of the answers you may bestow upon me, but I will follow your will nonetheless. My kingdom is being pinned against itself; morphing into a battlefield instead of the thriving land that my father dreamed of. I am conflicted, my Lord...to go to war or achieve peace...it is logical to immediately cease the loathing that runs deep in my blood and bones towards the Rayleigh family, but I don't believe that I am righteous enough to forgive their horrid natures.

Does that make me a disgrace? A sinner? I will admit that the crimson that I've splattered against your earth has been unjust in certain aspects, but they were traitors, liars, people that slayed the innocent and spat at the weak. In other aspects, I trust that my violence has been scrupulous. All in all, I am turning to you for guidance. In due time, I shall be discussing the fate of this nation. To battle or to unite? To die or to settle our differences. I wholeheartedly want to choose the latter, but I don't know if it will be possible for such diverse backgrounds to clash together...perhaps that is my wicked flesh speaking, but it's something that I am currently battling. Father, all I ask is for you to guide me to the most exceptional choice for my people...my wife...and if you are merciful, dear God...my heir. Amen." With a bow of his head and a crack of his knuckles, King Orion Lancaster straightened his posture and pushed himself up from his knees to a standing position, his eyes still gazing at the holy son of god mounted upon the cross on the back wall of the chapel. As a child, Ori had been slightly scared of the life sized figure, now he admired it, it was a reminder that he had been put upon this world to serve Seabel and it's people, god had made him King and he would do anything to keep it that way.

Today was the day. It was a day of compromise and possible solutions. It was their final chance to stop what seemed to be inevitable: war. He clenched his teeth at the thought as his jade orbs stared unyielding at the large crucifies of the chapel. He was ready to finish what his ancestors had started, but that inkling of hideous doubt was still gnawing at his frontal lobe. He wanted peace; fore nothing would please him more than his nation basking in tranquility, but he just couldn't imagine the Rayleigh clan shaking hands with him and calling him brother. It was almost surreal to consider it. At first Orion had wanted nothing but unconditional surrender for from the Rayleigh family, yet their stubbornness was persistent, yet a part of him never thought Sir Francis would rebel, surely the man was now to old to embark on a campaign against him? He had laughed when Duke Burton had informed him that Francis had established his own government and his supporters had been ordered to deny Northern trade, he was even more surprised when he learned about the army the Rayleigh's had rallied, his supporters seemed endless and that was when Orion felt blind angers. He had declared them traitors and was on the verge of sending his armies down there to retrieve them all, he'd show them what a real army could do. Then his darling Amalie had intervened, a Southerner by blood, he had at first, in his anger, threatened to brand her a traitor also but after his temper had simmered, he listened. Amalie begged for peace, not necessarily for the South but for her sister, yes he had forgotten that his sister-in-law was married to Charles Rayleigh, which was a slight hinderance in honesty. The Stanford's were a influential family, Sir William had many men at his disposal and Orion could have done with them, but with one sister in the North and the other in the South, he did not know which way he would sway, maybe he could talk to him at the summit.

Orion turned his back to the cross of Christ, walking out of the chapel into the sun's light. The beams reassured him as if God was informing him that all would be well. He hoped that this was true. Turning his gaze away from the azure sky, Orion walked confidently across the court yard, where his men were readying the carriages for the trip to Beaumont, he had planned on riding on his mount, but opted for the carriage after his wife's cryptic message over breakfast that she must speak with him in private and the only privacy they seemed to get anymore was when they travelled. Looking around briefly, he saw most were ready to disembark from their over-night rest stop, a frown tugging at his thin lips as he discovered a number of important people still unaccounted for, his wife, brother and sister being the prominent absences. "Clarence!" He shouted, his voice echoing across the stone courtyard of Sir Anthony Beckett's home of Isenfell.

Within an instant, a young man hurried over, his black uniform, signalling that he was one of the Kings Courtiers "yes, my King?" He asked with a gallant bow.

"See too it that the Queen, Prince Cedric and Princess Elenna are down her within the next few minutes otherwise we shall depart without them" Orion commanded, his hand rubbing the stubble over his chin, stopping as he spotted Amalie emerging from the grand house, a plethora of ladies around her as she walked purposely towards him, as usual, she took his breath away "It seems my wife has finally decided to join me, just see to my siblings, bring them immediately to the carriage, we must leave now!" he ordered before the young man hurried of. Orion greeted his wife with a quick bow and kiss on her hand "my love" he greeted, although his voice was stoic and somewhat unemotional. Amalie greeted him with a similar tone as he helped her into the carriage before climbing in after her. They sat opposite each other, Orion's leg crossed over his other as he studied his wife carefully, something was amiss with her, her pale skin seemed even lighter, on her brow formed small beads of sweat "Amalie, love, are you sick?" Orion asked, concern showing in his voice.

Amalie forced a smile as she dapped her forehead lightly with a cotton handkerchief "on the contrary Ori, I am quite well, just in the mornings I find stomach does not quite agree with me" she spoke a well rehearsed line, trying to stop the smile from breaking across her face.

Orion nodded, turning his gaze out of the window for a brief moment as her words sank in, sickly, in the mornings, could it be that his prayers had been answered? He opened his mouth to speak but closed it promptly as words failed to come to him, instead a large smile stretched from ear to ear, Amalie quickly doing the same "are you with child?" He asked hopefully.

Amalie nodded enthusiastically, tears beginning to brim in her eyes "the physician confirmed my suspicions last night" she spoke with a breathy laugh. Ori sighed deeply, quickly saying a prayer of gratitude and another of hope, that this child would not be stolen from them so early. Swiftly he rose from his position and fell into the empty spot next to his wife, his hand gently coming to rest of her stomach, his thumb running soft circles over the material of her dress "how long?" he asked, his eyes fixated on her stomach.

"I am three months" came her soft reply, causing Ori's smile to widen, if that was possible, he decided that then that it would be announced tonight at the banquet, if report were correct, the Rayleigh's would have no news of the same magnitude, no news could compare with that of an heir.
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In a darkened bed chamber located in Arva's castle, Cedric Lancaster slowly woke up. By then, it was the last room to still be dark and occupied. Most of the servants were bustled around to help organize for the royal family's departure that would be very, very soon. Cedric's hazy green eyes slowly opened and looked around the room for a few moments in wide-eyed confusion. For a few heartbeats, he had not a clue where he was or what he was doing. And then, a wave of both nausea and pain hit him as a pang of pain shot through his skull. Ced groaned and rolled on his side to face a young, sleeping woman. Oh yes, that's what he'd been doing. A smirk crossed his lips, despite the sharp pains of a hangover-induced headache. It was quite difficult for him to decide if this blonde was more attractive while sleeping beside him or awake and, well...what they'd been doing last night.

Cedric slowly sat up and yawned, his headache relieved for a few moments as the rush of oxygen reached his brain, only for the pain to return as he released the breath. The youngest Lancaster son pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his palms against his temples, rubbing slow, circular motions to ease the pain. Damn it...how drunk had he gotten the night before? Obviously, quite drunk if he was feeling this horrible. When had he last had a hangover this bad? The young man began to go off on a tangent in his own mind, zoning out so much that he started slightly when soft, smooth hands looped around his waist and the blonde who'd been asleep beside him placed a light kiss to his strong jaw.

"G'morning, sir," she purred in an alluring, sultry tone, unhooking her arms from around his neck to run a hand through his short, slightly curly locks. Cedric leaned back slightly, placing his head in his lap for a moment as he smiled back up at her.

"Good morning, my dear," he replied. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't actually sure he knew who this woman was. Hell, he didn't even know her name. His strategy to call her a pet name instead seemed to work, thankfully, and the girl of about eighteen blushed a bright shade of reddish-pink. Cedric slowly turned around to face her while sitting up. Crawling slightly toward her, he pressed his lips into hers and pushed her up against the headboard of his opulent bed.

As his hand trailed slowly along the length of her body, lower and lower, a knock suddenly sounded at the door. She gasped and pushed him back swiftly, pulling the covers on top of herself to cover her completely exposed self. Cedric, no better concealed than her, cleared his throat and yelled out a quick, "one moment, please." Getting off of the bed, he tugged on the pair of trousers he'd worn the day before and fastened them before opening the door, coming face to face with a servant who raised an eyebrow.

"Erm...is now not a good time, sir?" asked the man, fighting back a laugh at the scene: Cedric completely unprepared and quite disheveled with a woman, just as exposed as he most likely was, hiding beneath his blankets. Cedric narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"No, it is not," he snapped. "Yet, you might as well speak. I am already here at the door, no?" The servant nodded, all traces of amusement gone from his expression as he seemed to finally notice the sheer size of the man before him.

"Well, His Majesty awaits your presence by the carriages," he replied, wringing his hands lightly before him. Cedric's dumbfounded expression prompted him to continue. "You did remember the meeting today, sir...right?" Cedric rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I did," he muttered, lying through his teeth. "Now, if you will excuse me...you interrupted me from my getting ready."

"Oh yes, my apologies, sir..." The servant retreated down the hallway, however a few amused snickers could be heard from him, causing Cedric to flush quickly. He closed the door quickly and hurried toward his set of drawers, where he began to pull out clothing and toss it into a pile for packing. With a small collection to take with him, he also hurriedly dressed himself and then, finally, noticed the poor, bewildered girl who still sat on his bed.

"Where are yo-?" she began.

"Get out," he replied, jerking a thumb at the door. Her jaw dropped and she threw the covers off to walk toward him, her expression shocked and absolutely bewildered.

"E-excuse me?!" she cried, stopping right in front of him.

"Get out. I need to leave...important matters, you would not understand." He stood there for a few moments, holding his stance like the arrogant man he was. Without warning, however, the young blonde's hand sudden rose and struck him across the face, slapping his right cheek sharply so that the flesh stung. With that, she turned on her heel, walked toward her pile of clothing by the bed, and dressed silently. Cedric placed a hand against his cheek, jaw gaping in shock as he watched her strut out of his room, retaining the self confidence that had drawn him to her the night before.

Alone now in his room, he slowly finished packing his belongings and started for the door, turning his right cheek away to attempt to hide the welt that was forming from his brother's court. He was able to dodge most of the activity, or simply sneak past crowds, as he made his way outside. Arriving by the carriages, he handed off his luggage to a servant and quickly entered an unoccupied carriage, shutting the door behind him as he removed the hand from his cheek. It still stung harshly, though not as harshly as her blow had stung his ego. He actually probably would not recover from the blow for a few days at least.