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Alexander Davenport

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0 · 376 views · located in The New World

a character in “Outcasters: Atonement”, originally authored by Skulduggery, as played by RolePlayGateway

Groups

Army of the Tyrant Queen, led by Alexander Davenport.

Description

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[ N A M E ]xxxAlexander Davenport, otherwise nicknamed Alex for the purpose of simplicity.

[ T I T L E ]xxxGeneral of the Remei Army, as he has been for countless decades to date, and esteemed Hand of the Queen (Victoria Montez) - although begrudgingly. He's also a married man of many years, and a father.

[ A L I A S ]xxxHe was awarded (much to his dismay) the alias "Reaper" after it was estimated he held one of the highest kill counts of any individual Remei soldier.

[ A G E ]xxxHe's lived far longer than he cares to remember, but estimates that it's been around 3-4 centuries thus far.

[ S E X / G E N D E R ]xxxMale, in all regards.

[ S P E C I E S ]xxxAlexander was born human, but with the help of his father (former Remei soldier) and the King of Shadows, he was able to develop Wraith abilities in his later teen years.


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[ B A S I C S ]xxxAlexander is a relatively handsome man in the eyes of most. He appears to be in his 30s/40s with fair skin, dirty blond hair cut short (only recently), and stunning blue eyes to compliment it. He commonly has the faintest wisp of a beard growing at any one time, and a strong nose and jaw.

[ H E I G H T / B U I L D ]xxxHe stands at an approximate height of 6'1" and although it's difficult to tell when he's wearing armour, his body is impressively muscular.

[ A R M O U R ]xxxAs a mark of his stature in Victoria's Kingdom, he is made to wear gold plated armour at all times, typically accompanied by a white and gold cloak, and occasionally a helmet made to resemble the head of a lion.

[ O T H E R ]xxxAlexander's body is mottled with rigid scars, both old and new. It also possesses some faint lines of nonsensical symbols from the various sigils he wore before and during the war.

Nowadays Alex is often seen wandering around with deep bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and it's rumoured among his soldiers that he hasn't cracked a smile in years. He possesses something of a regal air to him, but no longer does he radiate strength as he once did. He's almost like a blade that's lost its edge.


[ S E C O N D A R YxxF O R M ]xxx As a Wraith, Alex's "second form" simply involves a thick layer of shadows/darkness emerging from various orifices and areas of his body (eyes, mouth, fingertips) to cover him entirely. He sometimes appears quite thin when this happens, and his eyes retain their icy blue colour despite being more ring-like and less human. If he's wearing armour/clothing, this will of course be covered also.


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[ P E R S O N A L I T Y ]xxxAlexander is, at least nowadays, a quiet and even-tempered individual. It was not always so, but the events of the War (especially his own actions and wrongdoings) have changed him in ways no one could've predicted, not even his own family. Anyone would say that he's simply given up any attempts to escape or maintain any shred of his former self, and at this point he's merely existing. His day-to-day life has become so much of a routine, it's almost like he's on auto-pilot, and on occasion he might seem to snap back to reality for a moment or two.

When it comes to following orders, Alexander has no choice but to obey Victoria no matter what's asked of him. For the sake of his family, whom he loves more dearly than anything. Nowadays it's more second nature to him than he'd care to admit, but after an entire year of being threatened with his daughter's safety, it became more and more habitual to just nod along and cater to Victoria's whims. However, despite his title and his seemingly obedient attitude, it's no secret that Alex's loyalties do not lie with the Queen and they never have. He's not afraid to bite back when she toys with him, nor to tell her what's really on his mind. Sometimes he feels like that's the only reason she bothers to keep him around anymore, but he won't give her the satisfaction of truly breaking him.

Alexander's time and energy most often goes to his soldiers and his army, the Remei. If he's not training them, he's in the barracks drinking and listening to their stories and problems. To his credit he's a fairly caring General, at least to those within his ranks, but the truth is that he's just lonely and doesn't wanna spend too much time alone with his thoughts.


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meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh meh

So begins...

Alexander Davenport's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport
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Arc 1: The Uprising



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Training had not long come to an end when Alexander left the courtyard and ventured up to his private chambers. An intense sparring session with soldiers of the Remei had left him tired and bruised, and he panted as he trecked up the countless flights of stairs.

Alexander was often allowed the evenings to himself, provided his duties had been carried out beforehand. In this free time he'd either visit the barracks to check on his subordinates, journey down to the cellars to spend an hour or two with his wife, or he'd leave the castle to take care of... other business.

At considerable risk to his own safety, not to mention the lives of those still in Victoria's grasp, Alexander opted for the latter that night. He'd promised his granddaughter an assortment of weapons and armor; everything ranging from swords, whips, and staffs to shields, helms, and breastplates. As he'd been informed, the Rebellion were lacking in protection and their abilities could only get them so far.

Over the course of several weeks he'd been taking items in small numbers and hiding them elsewhere. If anyone dared to ask questions, he'd shrug it off and claim that they'd simply been lost on patrols or damaged beyond repair in training. No one thought to question him too much; Alex wasn't the sort of man with whom you could speak comfortably, so most didn't try.

One bandaged hand slipped gingerly into his pocket to retrieve a small silver watch, which he observed for a moment before quickly returning it to its place. If he left within the hour, he'd make it to the meeting place by nightfall. First, however, he needed a hot bath and a moment's rest.

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Alexander, accompanied by a select few of his most trusted and loyal soldiers, trudged through the mud with a solemn expression upon his face. His cloak, once a pristine white colour, dragged along the dirt as he went and caught on branches more times than he could count. He'd been foolish to wear it on a journey such as this, knowing it would get filthy, but the world had grown cold this past year. The nights were unbearable, more so than even he could tolerate.

Before long they came to a break in the trees; the clearing in which he was expecting to meet Sunday. True to her word she'd arrived precisely on time and had no doubt been waiting some time for Alex to finally show his face.

Hands clasped behind his back, Alexander bowed forward and dipped his head as a show of respect for the young lady, before straightening up. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." While he spoke, he gestured behind himself to the disgruntled soldiers lowering their crates to the floor. "As promised, I've brought everything you might need. Armor, weapons, clothing, medical supplies, food."

Alexander hesitated for a moment, seemingly conflicted, then waved a hand for one of his men to step forward. The younger boy clutched what appeared to be a box wrapped in cloth and tied with a piece of string, and shakily handed it over to Alex when he called. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," he explained as he then extended the gift to her. "They're mostly old fairy tales."

He'd not yet met Sunday's daughter, little Alice, but he already knew in his heart that he would adore her. He hoped he'd be able to meet her one day, when he wasn't in a position to have information tortured out of him. Until then he would stay away from the majority of his family, and the Rebellion's camp.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport
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This was a risk, she always knew it was. From the moment she escaped her mother and freed all of those Fae, coming back was a risk but she had to. Grandfather was still under Mother's thumb..and other things and she needed his help. Sunday Davenport was taking too many risks but they were all caculated. All where well thought out. If anyone caught them, she'd kill them or Grandfather would, it was as simple as that. If Mother caught them...she'd kill her too. They'd just have to find a way to find Alexis. That was less simple but it was an option. Alexis trapped herself in some Nether bubble to keep from being used in the war. Doing that made her a target but it also kept herself, Victoria could claim to hurt her if she wanted but no one actually believed her and that's if she actually had her. It was a bluff, she was good for those, but it worked. It worked on Grandfather so it was all Sunday could do but to play along. Why her Mother wasn't dead, she would never understand. She hated Alec for that, Erieda was always the right choice but for some reason he choice Victoria even after she murdered Sashi, out of spite for her and her Father, something her father had yet to recover from, though he'd never admit it. She still struggled with the guilt but Sashi didn't die in her arms...just before her eyes.

As she thought this over, a rustle startled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Grandfather clad in his Remei armor appear through the trees and bowed. She swallowed. She wasn't sure she was ever going to get use to that. She was acting Queen of the Fae since Father seemingly couldn't be bothered for his grief but she wished he wasn't so formal. How she longed for some familial love. She knew better though, he wasn't alone and him being this familiar with her was hard enough since she was technically the enemy. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." He said and his men began to lower crate after crate of supplies the rebels needed. "No need to worry, Grandfather, I understand the discretion." she said and held out a hand. A shadow swirled beneath the crates and they dropped one by one into the shadows, as if a hole formed beneath them.

Once the others finished a younger lad approached Grandfather and handed him something wrapped in cloth. Sunday cocked her head at Grandfather's nervous expression. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," He held the apparent books to her and Sunday smiled. "They're mostly old fairy tales." He told her and Sunday found herself giggling. "This is brillant, Grandfather, She will love them, Thank you," She said overjoyed that he thought of her young daughter to whom she'd be practically raising alone. She had Kellin but that was getting more and more complicated, Her Father was losing himself by the day. She did have Eida but she was just as lost as she is. She wished she had someone older, wiser. She wished she had Grandmother. Sunday's smile faded. "Have you seen her?" she asked softly, dropping her gaze. " Grandmother, I mean, is she any better? " she asked, remember how broken shed been the last time she saw her, talking to herself, weakened severely by the iron. It was awful knowing how powerful she had been. How she still could be now if Sunday had chosen to save her instead of Father that night. She was still lucid then, told her to take Father and go, but they needed her. Now more then ever.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roan Ambers Character Portrait: Sunday Davenport Character Portrait: Simon Davenport Character Portrait: Alexander Davenport
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Sunday's pleasant response was a relief, and Alexander found himself finally releasing a breath he wasn't entirely aware he was holding. Her laughter echoed throughout the clearing which elicited a gentle smile from the old soldier, despite how hard it had been for him to do so this past year.

"This is brilliant, Grandfather. She will love them, thank you."

Straightening his expression, Alexander dipped his head in response and offered a simple, "You're welcome."

He noted her sudden shift in mood and it only took him a second to figure out where this conversation was headed. Sunday was very fond of her grandmother and it was no secret she intended to free the former Queen from her prison. It was only by Alexander's begging that she ended up in that place, rather than being outright executed, but he wouldn't be entirely surprised if Sunday blamed herself for her mother's actions.

"Have you seen her?" the young girl asked solemnly. "Grandmother, I mean, is she any better?"

Alexander paused for the longest moment before clearing his throat. "I try to visit your Grandmother each evening, if I can," he told her, his voice dropping considerably in volume. "She's... not doing too well, I must admit. Barely lucid at the best of times, and only growing weaker by the day." His gazed shifted for a single moment, perhaps out of shame or just discomfort, but he regained his composure quickly enough.

"Thankfully, in her state of mind, she seems to be unaware of her situation. She believes that she's living in the Hotel once more, with her children," he further explained. "I've not had the heart to shatter that illusion."

"She's mad," muttered one of the soldiers, standing a little in front of his comrades. "You ought to give her some mercy, let her die in peace rather than forcing her to live in pai-" The man's voice cut short as Alexander's head whipped around, wearing the sort of look in his eyes he typically reserved for the Tyrant Queen. "Forgive my outspokenness," he offered feebly, then stepped back.

Alexander inhaled slowly and returned his attention to Sunday. It was only for the man's loyalty that he wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood, but there were more important matters at hand than disciplining a loose-lipped subordinate. He hadn't travelled so far only to offer supplies; he also had information that may have been valuable to the Rebellion.

Reaching into his cloak, Alexander retrieved a small scroll of paper and passed it to Sunday. "I've happened upon a small village nearby. It's under the Queen's control, naturally, but it's deemed relatively unimportant since the village is small and poor," he said. "It's guarded by one large creature and a handful of Demon soldiers, none belonging to the Remei." Another scroll of paper was revealed and once again passed to Sunday, this time detailing the resources, civilians, and amount of soldiers she could expect to find there. "I'm afraid that's all the help I can give you for now."

Behind him he could hear his men getting restless and Alexander knew he had to wrap this meeting up as quickly as possible. Before then, however, he had one more think to inquire about. "How... is Simon coping?" he asked, his expression softer than it had been just moments before.




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Simon rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh, the back of his head resting on his forearm. He waited a few moments until he caught his breath, then sat up a little. "Christ..."

His time with Ambers only ever felt good in the moment, he'd quickly come to realise. The second they were done, he would always feel a tightness in his chest and a weight on his shoulders that proved unbearable at times. His mother's imprisonment, the fate of his people, and the countless hardships he forced upon his own daughter because he was too weak to shoulder them alone. All of it was taking its toll on him. The man in his bed wouldn't distract him forever, much that Simon wished he could.

When sex wasn't enough, there was only one other thing that worked to drive away the depression. One thing that made him truly numb.

After what felt like an eternity of staring into space, Simon finally heaved himself up and walked to the furthest side of the tent where his garments lay in a messy pile. He bent to pick up his bottoms before he started pulling them on, another impatient sigh filling the silence.

"Go fetch some wine from storage, would you?" he asked, his tone somehow both sharp and exhausted at the same time, and for the first time since in a while he finally turned to look at Ambers. "Not that weak mortal shit though... It won't do anything for me."

The look in Simon's eyes suggested he wasn't in the mood to argue about the subject, but he suspected the young soldier would try it anyway.