Roan Bélanger
The Basics
Full Name: Roan Bélanger, Raider Roan
Age: 27
Gender/Pronouns: male/him/his
Ethnicity: SL
Birthplace: Rosnay, Ile de Paon
Current Location: Corlay, Ile de Paon
Profession: Raider
Caste: Warlord Prince
Birthright Jewel: Blood Opal (CUT 90)
Offering Jewel: Red (CUT 100)
Face Claim: Lucas Alves
The Body
Height: 6'2
Body Type: Raider fit and murderous
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Appearance:Arms too long to be thick, but none of him tapers. Waist nearly as wide as his chest. He is boxy, cut muscle, without the bulk. Thighs capable of crushing a man's ribs, or pinning a bucking woman.
Dark, curling hair. An almost continuous shadow along his jaw because he is too lazy to shave. Hair trimmed regularly only because it falls into his eyes and irritates. Eyes like the sea, endless, shifting blue with dark centers and hints of green.
He slouches slightly. Shoulders rolling forward and dipping expressively. Roan gives himself away with his shoulders the way other men might with their brows or eyes. Prefers loose cotton pants cuffed at the ankle, and no shirts to any, but he likes those in cotton too, or anything soft. And whatever color Zephyrine buys for him.
The Mind
Craft Strengths: 15pts
Craft Weaknesses: Aural & Sight Shields
Personality:Roan is brimming with curiosity the way many other warlord princes are overrun with temper. His rages are always quick and quickly over. Forgotten as soon as they pass, Roan has never held a grudge. Then again, he has rarely suffered any consequence for his fits. People die, he is forgiven, life goes on. Life is what Roan is interested in. Not blood shed, but beauty. He doesn't want to own people, but experiences.
In another place he might have been an artist. Perhaps he should have been a priest. But Roan is what he is. A warrior of Paon, one of the few deadly and dark warlord princes the islands possess, so of course he is a raider. Fulfilling his duty whenever he is made to. His hauls often lackluster and frustrating. He is easily distracted by things others don't notice. The hidden and not so hidden beauties of the mainland. Not just the women, but the places and things.
Hard to keep on task, Roan is a dreamer. His mind wanders easily, and his feet and hands often follow. He does not rush headlong into violence. Blood is messy, and his temper never sure. Equal chances he will walk or run through the killing fields, if he is stirred to them at all. He is a poor man in marks, but Roan does not feel unfulfilled. He has seen a lot of amazing sights, and touched unimaginable things. Flowers that will never grow in the soil of Paon, beasts that will never flourish in its heat.
He is possessive of what he has, however. His wife. The tidy house he managed to save just enough to buy for her. The things he has smuggled home with him. Strange rocks. A twisted branch. Meaningless baubles with no value outside the experience of finding them.
The Backstory
Family:- | Mother | White to Rose Priestess
- | Father | Yellow to Summer-sky Warlord
- Pet| Brother | Rose to Purple Dusk Warlord
History:Theirs was a romance that never should have been. A priestess whose sole duty was to set infants adrift in the sea, to remind her of the kindness done to her when she escaped the same fate. A warlord who could set snares no other could sense. Larder never empty he was so good at the hunt, but that was all he was good for. Hardly a Summer-sky for the troubles of raising him. But she was beautiful, and he was foolish. Together they made a son, and both of them tasted the lash for their indecency.
But they lived. Forgiven again because their son would he mighty. Allowed to marry and live and breed once more. This one a lesser spear, but worthy enough. Roan’s favorite brother and play thing. He was their glory. A Blood Opal at five and so much possibility before him. Caste rich and deep. There was much discussion how two so lowly creatures could breed such as he. Mother Night was fickle, sometimes. Or generous.
He was wild and naughty. Trained well but coddled too much. His mistakes forgiven until they were deadly habits. Too carefree and careless. A curious student, but he made a poor hunter. Impatient and impetuous. He snuck away instead of holding his post. Distracted eye losing game. They punished him until he pouted and then petted him until he thought it was a game. They didn’t care what he did, so long as they thought they could control him.
So he did as he pleased and pouted so that they didn’t punish him. He didn’t like the pain. He was so very sorry and he would never do it again! He would do better and be better, he promised. And then did as he pleased.
Jewels strong enough to see him on a raider’s ship. He was a poor excuse for that too. Always quick to go but reluctant to come home again. He liked exploring and collecting. Not people, but things. Strange things not always valuable. Plants. Interesting rocks. A dozen memory crystals of amazing sights. He killed because they told him to, and because it was easy. Killed and then slunk away to see what was hidden in the places they didn’t look. Always with excuses and charm when he came home. So sorry! He didn’t mean to.
He and his brother grew apart as they grew older. Younger brother desperate to rid himself of the nickname Roan’s Pet. So loved and well favored he was taken everywhere Roan could drag him along, until he was old enough to forge his own path, diverging from his brother’s. A most terrible outcome, as far as Roan could see it. Wheedling endlessly for just one more adventure together. Or a visit to the temple so he could make his Offering. The could both go together!
Such a rare occurrence, to not get his way. Mother and father not even told before he slunk away to visit the priestess. Falling long and slow into his descent until he was complete, and still himself. More power to fuel his carelessness. Hot anger that rose, struck and was forgotten quicker than a tide change. Anger so well and fully spent it could not linger. Devastating, for all it was brief.
It was how he acquired his wife. At a card table, where someone turned out to be a cheat, and this time the sneak was not Roan. He had few marks, all of them dear. To lose them in a rigged wager? Unthinkable. Obviously the culprit had to pay. Unfortunately, so did everyone else at the table. One man the married sort, with a pretty widow at home. Guilt ridden and oh so sorry, Roan figured the most honorable thing to do would be to take care of her.
And since anything he took care of was his, Roan made her his wife too.
The Writer
Player Name: dergon/cole
Player Pronouns: she/her
Timezone: -6
Contact: PM or discord
How did you find us?: I made you bitch
Inactivity Instructions: Write out as necessary, including death. Maybe someone beat him to death with a pretty rock.
