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Sir Alaric de Whittier

He's a Lordly type.

0 · 204 views · located in Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Lord Saladin

So begins...

Sir Alaric de Whittier's Story

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Sir Alaric de Whittier walks into the grand ballroom of the mansion, a couple of steps in front of Anne Sofani, his left hand rested idly on the hilt of the rapier at his waist and his right arm lifted slightly, a gentlemanly offering of his arm to the lady who was his charge tonight.

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Sir Alaric de Whittier struts further into the fray, the annoyance of having to physically threaten the doorman slowly fading as he took in the multitude of people in attendance. "Some folks are just so uncouth, my lady." His voice was smooth and deep, with tones of aristocracy. With his youthful face hidden behind a silver, diamond jewelled hawk's mask, it would not be amiss to assume him much older.

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Sir Alaric de Whittier took a half-step forward and to the right, shoving away a panicked attendee as she ran wildly towards the pair. A glass of wine spilled and splashed against the white breeches Alaric was wearing. "This is indeed madness, my lady. I too was given the impression of an event with class. I would suggest a departure, but then your time will have been wasted." The cacophony nearly drowned out his voice, and as another party-goer approached in a wild panic, a stuff punch added them to people already on the floor.

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Sir Alaric de Whittier nods solemnly. "There are indeed. Perhaps a quiet corner might be prudent." Then the glass dome above shattered and he could do nothing to prevent the shards from falling on himself and the lady beside him. He started to usher Anne towards the edge of the room through the sea of madness surrounding the pair. They were certainly an island of calm and dignity.

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Sir Alaric de Whittier muttered hasty apologies with each tear of fabric and flesh, flailing fervently as he tried fighting against the furore with his too-long-for-the-situation rapier, only succeeding minimally. "I must offer my sincerest apologies, my lady, I am thoroughly failing to provide the protection one would expect. Perhaps a waiver on my fee is warranted."

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Sir Alaric de Whittier offers a flash of the boyish grin that had charmed so many ladies since he first used it on his mother as a child, "Well, my lady," he retorted with a barely constrained appropriately toned manner, "the roof is falling on ME as well! Thankfully I have this fashionably robust hawk upon my countenance to protect my most valuable asset." As a beastie tumbled toward them, Alaric shoved his companion into the corner unceremoniously to get her out of the way and stuck the creature with his sword. "I would most certainly recommend as swift a departure as protocol will allow."

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Sir Alaric de Whittier shook his head as he kicked the beastie from the end of his sword. "My lady, perhaps you would rather have been run through by this... This... Whatever it is? I'm sure your delicate flesh would have tasted just sublime to its purple tongue!" Indignation had overtaken the calm Alaric had thusfar maintained, and his voice carried a great deal of agitation. He straightened his white jacket and ran a hand through his light brown hair as he followed after Anne. A mockingly formal tone reached over the din, "Do be careful, my lady, I would be most displeased should you happen to be eaten by one of the undesirables that attended your most precious ball!" He deftly waved his rapier to murder those in his path, and quickly reached his charge once more.

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Sir Alaric de Whittier raised his arm to the appropriate level as he slammed his rapier back into its scabbard. "My waving like a madman is only indicative of the debacle you brought me to this evening, my dear, dear lady! Now, if you've had quite enough of this most exquisite night, let me escort you home." He pushed open the door and led his charge through it, before it closed behind them, there was a muttered assertion that "My fee will most certainly NOT be waived in this instance, with all the gracious, polite, protocol-driven and due respect a lady of your most advanced standing deserves, my lady!"

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