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Renard Blanchet

A deserter from the French Army, hoping to find a new life in the West.

0 · 116 views · located in Splitcreek, Arizona

a character in “Westward Bound”, as played by glmstr



Given Name:
Renard Pascal Blanchet

While he doesn't provide a nickname, he's often simply called "Pierre", "Napoleon" or sometimes "Frog".



Good guy or bad guy?:
Renard just wants to be left alone.

While he occasionally tries his hand at jobs like driving cattle, he is officially unemployed.

Personality :
Renard is rarely one to open up about himself. Both the horrors of war and the numerous secrets he keeps have driven him to keep anything more than the most basic of formalities under wraps. While he isn't inherently unfriendly, suspicion and paranoia make him hesitant to let others pry. He drinks and smokes heavily and while his English is quite good for an immigrant, he still occasionally slips back into his native tongue.

From his decades of experience in the French Army, Renard is more than capable with both firearm and blade, especially his Chassepot rifle and bayonet he took with him. He was formerly an avid reader, and has been trying to start reading English and American literature to help learn the language.

Notably, he has a particular talent for the violin, and keeps his own in his house.

Born in the city of Tours in 1830, Renard quickly showcased a talent for music, particularly the violin which he started playing around the age of nine. As time marched forward he aspired to be a great musician, managing to avoid most of the conflict of the multiple coups. He pursued his career as a musician farther and farther, falling in love with violist Selene Lacroix. They played in a duet and in symphonies all across Europe. That is, until Prussia declared war on France in 1870 and Renard was drafted into the army to fight. When the Germans won the war in 1871, rather than face imprisonment he planned to flee to America on a cargo ship. He and his wife boarded the same ship together, but were separated in travel and Blanchet was forced to continue his journey alone. He eventually settled down in Arizona, in a town called Splitcreek with most of his life savings converted into American dollars.

Personal relationships:
He was madly in love and married with a Parisian girl by the name of Selene Lacroix, but has had little to no contact with her for a long time.

Renard stands tall above other Europeans due to some Gaulish ancestry, though he is barely above average when compared to Americans. His dark but receding hair is starting to gray at the roots, and his face is pitted with both scars and some wrinkles. A piercing set of green eyes and tight-lipped scowl combined with only somewhat-kept facial hair completes his stony visage.

Writing sample:

The Iron Horse, a gleaming, coal powered, roaring icon of the American West. While such transportation had long existed in his homeland as well, these were still different. In reality, everything was different, but just similar enough to bite at the heart of one Renard Blanchet. The Frenchman sat against the window in one of many passenger cars, hunched towards the glass to watch the plains and scrublands roll by. He tugged at his collar to stave off the June heat, one of many things he would need to adjust to here.

"So, what brings you around these parts?"

The man beside him, rotund and smartly dressed, piped up. His nose was bulbous and scarlet, probably a heavy drinker. His curled mustache made him suspect an Englishman but the man spoke with what Renard's been told is the 'southern drawl'. Endearing in a way, but difficult to parse. Blanchet mulled over his words before offering a response.

"I am trying to build new life here. Can't go back home."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I fought in war. Against the Germans. We lost, me and my wife leave country to come here." He sighed and cast a wistful glance back out the window. There was something comforting in the sort of monotony of the landscape, but it was much too open. The vast emptiness made him feel watched.

"Your wife? Where is she?"

Renard turned to look at the man, then went back to gazing at the flowing fields of grass.

"I don't know."

It hurt him to say it, but it was true. They somehow lost track of each other on the way across the Atlantic, and it was his fault. He never should have left her side. Now he's all alone, left to fend for himself in a country he does not know. It made him wonder, why does he keep going?

"I'm sorry to hear that, partner. Say, I tell you what, how about you come with me down to Arizona? There's this nice town called Splitcreek I'm stopping in for a while, and it's got everything you could want. Land's still dirt cheap too, you could build a nice house down there."

"I will. Merci."

Why do I continue on like this?

So begins...

Renard Blanchet's Story