Post by Lucien Leroux on Jan 24, 2010 19:23:44 GMT -7
*The Basics
Full Name: Lucien Leroux
NickNames: Lou (but he doesn't like that one), Roux (only close friends are allowed to call him that!)
Age: 21
Alliance: Mar'vol
*How It Works
Personality
Lucien is a very fun-loving young man, only mature by age, not by personality. He likes to fool around with his friends, frequenting alehouses and other interesting establishments at random.
Girls, ale and a good forging hammer to work with are the things that matter most to him.
Though his parents are no Mar'volians but descendants of a foreign kingdom, he feels himself as a Mar'volian to the core, adopting their lifestyle and view of the world, including the hatred of all that is Lamoran.
He was lucky to escape conscription because his master needed him in the smitty, but sometimes he feels bad for leaving many of his friends high and dry. With the war raging on to a new climax, fun is leaving the city and so Lucien often feels rather bored.
10 likes
- Having fun
- Drinking strong brews
- Flirting with girls
- The smitty
- His lads
- Mar'vol and its inhabitants
- The sea
- Warm summer evenings
- Fish
- Being told that he's handsome
10 dislikes
- Boredom
- No one to fool around with
- Brands
- Being called a shirker
- Losing a game of arm wrestling
- Lamora and all its inhabitants
- Not being paid in due time
- Being judged by his foreign roots
- Storm tide
- Rising all too early
Apperance
Lucien is of average height and, due to his work, very well muscled. His hair are of a hazelnut brown and his eyes are of nearly the same colour, just a little shade darker.
A little vain as he is, he keeps his hair long, although that has often proven impractical working at the forge.
His clothes are those of a commoner with a little wealth, used but not ragged and very well taken care of. At work you can see him wearng a huge apron, and in summer he's barebreast most of the time.
Various leather boots of every state and value are the only luxury he allows himself, taking pride in the fact that he could wear his finest even at a royal reception – if only his clothes matched.
The Back Story
Parents:Etienne Leroux (45, fisherman) Lumiette Leroux (40)
History Lucien was born to the newly wed fishermen's couple on a dark stormy night, bringing his mother to the fitting prediction, her son might love the big scene in later life.
When he was only a boy of two years, his father, always an adventuresome fellow, took the risk to set out for new horizons, to a kingdom of which he knew valued fishing more than anything else. Lumiette would have liked to stay, but she followed her husband dutifully.
Thus, Lucien has little if no memories of his former homeland, but he doesn't miss it all too much.
When reaching the age of fifteen, he decided not to follow in his father's footsteps, because though he liked the sea, fire was his real element. He was a quick student and soon learned everything concerning metal and the making of steel. Growing along with his task, young Lucien turned into a strong and adept man, though never seeing his work as the gist of his life. There were so many other things to do and experience when you were still young and 'surrounded by opulence', as he often calls it.
Besides his escapades and adventures, his master values him dearly, so much in fact that he asked for Lucien to be saved from serving in the war, claiming his craftmanship in working metal was of greater value to his kingdom than any fighting skills he might posess.
Therefore Lucien remained in the smitty whilst many of his friends set out to the battlefiled. Little have returned since, and he often wonders if he's ever going to see them again.
Petsnone, but he attracts all kinds of stray cats.
The Master Mind
ooc nameGwen
Hey guys, sign up for Mar'volians, they are FUN
Sample RP
Cling, clang, cling clang, cling clang! The rhythmic banging of the big hammer meeting a red-hot blade ringed through the smitty, accompanied by the occasional whooshing of the bellows, operated by a young boy of fourteen, the newest apprentice.
Cling, clang! "Hey over there, don't you drop off, alright!" Lucien called out at him, without troubling the steady rhythm. "I want this flames as white as a woman's breast, you hear me!"
The boy, his face already red and sweaty from the heat, seemed to colour even more, which caused Lucien to roll his eyes. What a sissy! He dearly wished he had one of his mates around here, or even the master himself. In the good old times before the new conscription they would have been cracking such jokes all day, making the smitty a place of neverending salaciousness and laughter. Now all he had left to talk to was this milksop, with the blacksmith out on an errand and Thomas ill at home.
The apprentice resumed his hammering with a little annoyed sigh, only before taking the still rather shapeless blade back to the forge, waiting for it to turn white with heat.
Forging a blade was the delicatest part of blacksmitting craft. So many things could go wrong, so little faults could make a sword looking perfectly fine but making it break at the first real assault, sentencing its owner to death. It was Lucien's task to make sure this didn't happen, and how much of a happy-go-lucky he might otherwise be, this he took very seriously. Fighting on the battlefield was an honour and a pain at the same time, but so little of his friends had rejected the offer to earn glory for their land and for theirselves. A part of Lucien wished he was with them now, but another was also shamefully pleased that his life was not at stake. To make up for this bad conscience he had decided on making the best swords Mar'vol had ever seen, to crush those aloof Notherners!
"What's it to be, boy, will you work the bellows, or shall I, feeding the flames with your bag of bones?"
