Virgil Julienne de Gautier
Mar 21, 2012 19:43:44 GMT -6
Post by Virgil on Mar 21, 2012 19:43:44 GMT -6
Name: Virgil Julienne de Gautier
Class: Mercenary
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color:Blue
Age: 24
Appearance: While Virgil stands at a height of 5’10’’, the seemingly noble-like posture he maintains imitates a man perhaps a few inches higher. Virgil is not a particularly large man, but his training, which is not much more than any other rookie sell-sword, keeps his body lithe and toned to handle his daily tasks. The most notable feature of Virgil that typically catches the eye of his benefactors and enemies is his hair: a mass of sable curls and waves that spill all over his head every which way. Further down, just below the curls that make up his bangs, are his two blue eyes, bright in hue, almost reflecting a friendly charm. Overall, his chin, which is lightly bearded with a goatee, and face are rather expressive, often providing an expression of amiability or pensiveness.
Clothing: Though his attire is rather simple, it is all at once rather impressive as worn by Virgil. Naturally, Virgil wears a foundation of a basic shirt, black pants, and sturdy boots, staples in comfortable but functional clothing. Over his torso he dons a light, sturdy breastplate with spaulders, colored white with a golden trim, for elementary protection. Contrasting starkly with Virgil’s white armor is a red cloak that he wears not to protect from swords, but instead from the elements and natural externalities. Finally, at his waist, Virgil wears a leather belt to which necessary tools are often attached, most notably a coin pouch and his sword.
Personality: Virgil is a man who is a slave to his passion and aspirations: the legends and tales of the warrior heroes and individuals of renown. Obsessed with the romanticism and grandeur that surrounds these men and women of lore; desires to become such a figure that bards will sing praises of. As such, he often constructs, or at least attempts, to be the epitome of bravery and gallantry. Though, due to his current skill with the blade being far from the stuff of legends, his exploits selling himself as a bastion of chivalry and valor is done more easily by mouth and display of attitude than anything. An academic who is well read in poetry and literature, Virgil is an eloquent silver-tongue with a honeysweet voice whose abilities in negotiation are more likely greater assets than his sword; hence his ease is approaching most situations.
As aforementioned, Virgil is much a creature of ambition; he truly believes that he will achieve the celebrity he seeks. All the airs he puts forth in the fanfare and flourishes of battle cries and heroic speech serve his goal. It is worth noting that he does not necessarily wish to be known as a “hero” in the traditional sense, rather he wishes to establish his name through glorious combat, hence why he highly idealizes the profession of mercenary.
Born in: Illia
Story: Virgil was born to Grigore and Aureilia Laurent, in moderate sized village in Illia near the border with Etruria. An optimal location for trade, Virgil’s father had capitalized on the opportunity to make a small fortune moving popular goods between local villages in Illia and nearby Etruria. As such, Virgil lived easy and had access to prospects that others didn’t, namely the tutors and books his parents purchased to educate their son. As a result, Virgil’s greatest escape became not his studies, but the fantastic collections of stories he would read in his books, fables of heroes, great warriors who saved maidens by slaying hordes of foes or defeating the horrid beasts that lurk in dark forests. Whether it was the local bard’s latest work or the bedtime tale his parents concocted, the eager Virgil took the stories to heart, in awe and admiration. Thus, he would often take to the outdoors with a wooden stick in hand and crusade against the horrible monsters prowling around, such as the terrible, terrible sheep that would graze menacingly on a pasture near town. The youth carried on with these dramatic displays throughout his early childhood, chasing imaginary foes and saving fictional princesses, and was quite adored for his enthusiasm. Few, however, would suspect that Virgil’s infatuation would last until early adulthood.
Indeed, Virgil, as a consequence of his study, shaped up to be a well-rounded young man. Always eloquent and polite, he was a favorite among those he met and kept his parents hopeful that they would have a suitable heir to the family business. Nevertheless, Virgil kept his elders on edge with his latest hobby and extension of his heroic daydreams: dueling and swordplay. Ever in the chase of fame through the tip of the blade, Virgil took up the sword as a teenager and convinced his parents to pay a swordsman here or there to tutor Virgil in their art. Virgil excelled through his eagerness to learn and, in his mind, take a step closer to becoming a real swordsman. His peers, friends and strangers eager to shake of the energy of youth, made interesting, but not necessarily challenging opponents. While there were certainly those more skilled, few had the raw vigor that Virgil possessed when wielding the blade, always wielding his sword with the flourish and energy of a veteran.
From then on, because of his immense drive, Virgil would surpass his friends and early opponents, which would go on to fuel a restlessness growing inside him. Now approaching adulthood, the enchantment of his childhood stories seemed to lose glimmer now that he had exhausted all worthy opposition and was approaching the day where he would have to give up his newfound hobby to help his father with the family business. Given the state he found himself in, he needed a change of scenery: no hero ever belongs solely to the place of his birth. With this in mind, he simply left at the age of 17, desperate to write his own epic, with nary a word to anyone.
There was little rustle over Virgil’s departure, it was deemed bound to happen and was merely accepted by his parents. As he approached the day of his departure, Virgil had become increasingly latched to his old tomes and the heroes they held. The day he left, he no longer referred to himself as “Virgil Laurent.” No, he now styled himself as “Virgil Julienne de Gautier,” the wandering crusader. However, the departed youth found only frustration initially with his new life as a sword for hire, a mercenary. He rarely received a charge of “heroic urgency,” as he would say. His missions generally included standing next to merchant stands and carts, monitoring any would-be thieves. Rather disappointed, he searched farther lands for more glorious tasks, but few would accept him, being rather young and established. However, he would find one such task that would slake his thirst for adventure.
The job was rather ambiguous, but the pay extremely good considering the patron was hiring any man with a sword. Inevitably, Virgil became one such man, one among a dozen or so young mercenaries searching for the first drop of blood to stain their blades. Their task was simply to clear out a local forest said to be inhabited by a nuisance of a bandit group that was “mildly” harassing nearby caravans. Unfortunately, these bandits were not a merely nuisance, nor the pushovers Virgil’s group suspected them to be. In fact, the bandit camp they would stumble upon in the dark woods was home to merciless criminals twice the young mercenaries’ number. While the bandits were the first to strike out against Virgil and his equals, Virgil retaliated immediately; he was finally in his element. Virgil gave a battle cry and lunge forth, as if the leader of his motley band, striking down a foe in front of him. The flash of the blade and the scarlet spray was no longer gruesome, only artistic. The battle carried on until the few bandits still standing were routed. “The day is ours men,” cried Virgil with his sword in the air, only to turn a notice that he was one among three to remain alive in the fighting. For a second, the gore stunned him. The sight of men, no older than him took his breath away. Was this the “glory” he had always dreamed of?
No more than a second later, he held his head high and walked forth from the battlefield. Covered in blood, his armor dented and his blade scarred, he walked as if he were a noble in court, though treading upon limbs and blood. The fallen were merely peons. They died because they were not destined for greatness as he was. He lived because he was strong. This is glory, or so Virgil was content to think. From then on, this first battle was the first true appearance of Virgil Julienne de Gautier and the point at which Virgil gave himself to his heroic fantasies. Clad in new armor and a stunning red cloak, his transformation seemed complete, the very model of a legend, or, again, so Virgil thought. To this day, he continues to travel and live the life of a mercenary, in his ongoing epic of the mind. He cared not for who the patron was, how much gold they would pay, or who was staring down his sword. Above all, the important thing is he was determined to be known for his exploits.
