Snagglepuss89

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

FC edited, as per request.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

I don't ever use real pictures either, but if required I can change up what I have in the CS.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

Trust me, 25 years is a lot to work with. Especially if you're not career changing like you have multiple personalities.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

So, I beat @Sisyphus. Apologies that I tend to make Bios a bit long. I also don't have detailed information about the setting, so some details might be a no-go when more is revealed. Purposefully kept vague on aspects of magic and religion for obvious lack of knowledge reasons.

Snaggle's CS

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Lucas MacArthur

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Name

Lucas MacArthur

Age

25

Gender

Male

Relationship Status

Widowed

Job

Hobo, former innkeeper, former sailor, former priest.

Element/Abilities

Air.

In-Depth Appearance

Lucas, at first glance, is not much to look at. He is garbed in a traveler's cloak that is so dirty that its former life as a priest's garb is lost on the casual observer, and the rest of him isn't in much better shape. Simple commoner's clothes lie underneath, clearly well worn and roughly patched in places where they've begun to tear. A sword- indicative of those preferred by sailors, rests at his side, although if the condition of the hilt is any indication the blade is likely rusted to uselessness. Finally, and perhaps most notably at first glance, a patch covers his right eye, hiding it from view.

Outfit

Likes

• New sites, sounds, people, and places.
• A fresh wind on his face.
• The jingle of a coin purse after a hard day's work.

Dislikes

• Overconfident youths.
• Violence in general, but especially pointless violence.
• Himself. Past, present, and what he expects of his future.

Biggest Fear

Lucas above all fears that he may never allow himself to find peace. Not in a mental sense, but rather that his wanderlust and inclination towards adventure will ultimately destroy any good situation that he ever manages to make for himself. Whether it be a well paying job, a home he loves, friends he makes, or lovers he takes. Ultimately he fears that he'll never be able to hold onto anything, and given the choice to stay or leave, he'll always choose to throw them away in favor of the road.

Personality

As someone in his home town would say, Lucas is "A Steady Breeze blowing over the Raging Sea". Generally calm and open, he has an inclination towards spreading advice even when it isn't wanted, and mingling with anyone he finds interesting at a glance. Still, while he has few buttons to press, he finds it increasingly difficulty to hold back once his anger is awakened- and whether violent or verbal he usually tends to cause lasting harm before being able to calm himself. It's a bad habit that grows increasingly more common as he starts to drink, and so he tries to stay away from alcohol in spite of his love for it.

As both a former priest and one of the Marked, Lucas has no doubts as to the validity of the Destined legend. Still, more than anything it fills him with unease. He sees it as a curse for anyone he is Destined to be bound with, and he also feels he's been robbed of the freedom to find his own partner. Though the Marked can supposedly settle down with people they are not Destined for, he has already been a widower, and is convinced that would be the fate of anybody else he tried to marry that he wasn't bound to.

Background

Lucas grew up in a small port town, the son of a barkeep selling food and drink to the sailors who pulled in to port. In spite of being one of the Marked, he grew up with few expectations for himself, and a good life already planned out. He would marry his childhood sweetheart, Jeane Cromwell, take over his father's inn, and experience life through the stories hi patrons told over mugs of ale. Just as his father had before him. For the most part, this reality held true for almost twenty years.

However, there was always an... itch inside him. Whenever he felt the wind blow against his face Lucas felt the strongest urge to move, and urge that he fought constantly. His wife was both sickly and insecure, believing inevitably that the woman he was Destined for would walk into the inn one day and steal him away. So he stayed. Stayed with his wife. Tended his father's inn. And fought any urge to leave and see the world.

Until Captain James Cunningham walked into his inn and changed everything.

The man had caught rumor that Lucas was one of the Marked, and was dead set on hiring him to serve on the Marauder's Forlorn, a renowned pirate hunting vessel. Men and women skilled in Air were always valued at sea, and for days the captain tried to convince Lucas to join him. First regaling him with tales of his journeys, victories (never defeats), and wondrous cities he had taken port in. Next he tried to entice the young man with promises of fame and glory as a member of the sea's greatest pirate hunting ship.

Finally, he spoke of riches- and more importantly, a chance to find a cure for Lucas' wife on a far off shore.

Jeane, of course, was completely against it, afraid her husband was just using it as an excuse to leave and find the woman he was Destined to be with. To her credit, she was right about the first point- it was an excuse. He had been looking for a reason to leave his home for years, and this was finally one he didn't have to feel guilty over. He knew it, she knew it, and Captain Cunningham knew it.

At the cusp of 20 years old Lucas set sail aboard the Marauder's Forlorn, and spent the next three years of his life as a member of Captain Cunningham's crew. As it turned out, while he had a distaste for combat, he was quite skilled at it, and that distaste was quickly drowned out by youthful pride and enthusiasm. In three years luck and skill resulted in him barely receiving a scratch, and he felt himself invincible until he lost his eye and nearly his life during an everyday engagement to a no-name group of brigands.

Recovering in a hospital bed on a foreign shore, he felt like returning home for the first time since he set out. So he took his leave of his Captain, with his sword and loot he had obtained over the course of his service and set out to be reunited with his wife. What he found instead was a grave, and was horrified that mixed in with his grief was the slightest feeling of relief.

Disgusted with himself, and having no desire to take on his aging father's business, he left his old man with the money he had earned at sea and set off once more. This time he traveled by land, completely without a purpose, trying to lose himself in the vastness of the continent. When he reached a new town or village he would offer his hand working until he saved up enough money for the next stretch of his journey before setting off once more. For months he traveled like this, perpetually penniless and drunk nearly as often, before stumbling on a small temple to his goddess atop a small cliff on the side of a rarely traveled road. Tired in more ways than one, he stopped there for the night. When the old priestess that tended to the building welcomed him inside, Lucas broke down and opened his heart to the woman, telling her his life story.

When he finished, they sat in silence for some time, when finally she offered him a place at the temple. Maybe, she suggested, serving the goddess would serve to calm his soul and give him purpose. She had intended it of course as a way to help heal him, but Lucas embraced it as a penance to pay for the mistakes he had made.

So he stayed there, first learning the teachings of his goddess, and later greeting travelers as a priest. For over a year he tended to the temple and old woman, embracing his new home as he had embraced the sea years before. Indeed, he was happy, in spite of the spectre of Jeane haunting his mind. However, the temple was not the sea. He was not moving, instead Lucas was stagnant, confined to one place once more. The itch returned more strongly than ever, each time a breeze blew over that small cliff. He fought it as strongly as he could, but both he and the priestess knew he would one day leave with the wind.

Four months ago that day came.

Fashioning his robes into a traveler's cloak, he slipped away at night without so much as a goodbye, heading towards the Royal City. He knew of course of the festival that was going to take place there, and the old priestess had urged him for months to take part. Now was his opportunity, perhaps to find his Destined. Find happiness. Find himself.

Though he was terrified of what the last one might mean.

Extra

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

Kinda lean towards older characters in RPs, but I might be interested in this as a more casual one to kill time with. Been awhile since I've done something more slice-of-life(y).

Knights and Knaves

Yadda yadda interested yadda yadda get the OOC up already.

My Heart is on the Throne

NPC added to the CS sheet, and post is up. Didn't want to give another false prediction before posting it, so I've been rather quiet until it was finished.

My Heart is on the Throne

"It did not look so large from a distance."

It was a statement half of admiration and half of wariness. The tone of both a tourist and a warrior sizing up a potential rival. Bluewater Rush seemed to dwarf Ferry's Rest, itself the largest city in the Shattered Mountains. Not that this was any real surprise- the mountains certainly provided for their people, but food was still much harder to come by, and settlements rarely grew larger than could be sustained by the surrounding land. Bluewater Rush though? It seemed as if the surrounding land could support all of Handon and more.

It would be a worrying sight if he was here on less pleasant business.

For their part, the Syndwaelin couple kept quiet and took in the beauty of the land, lost in memories of their mercenary days. The Rainlands had a tendency of late to push for conflict, and soldiers for hire gravitated towards the potential paychecks. Surely if their duty wasn't to guard their liege the two would already be at the lake's edge, indulging in a sailing hobby that was impossible in their homeland.

As the gates of the city drew closer Llewelyn felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and he didn't even need to see the bandages to know who it belonged to.

"I know you are not expecting conflict, but perhaps it would have been wise to take more guards."

"We knew the king would be providing us an escort."

"Yes. But it seems as if our hosts have provided an escort of their own."

Even with his bandaged eyes, Malcholar's magical sight was far greater than Llewelyn's own. Traffic had slowed considerably from the gate his escort was approaching, and in the place of caravans stood armed soldiers. Their mail gleamed in the absence of the heavy rain that had plagued much of his journey, and marked them as something far more than the city guard. No, these were knights belonging to House Vidokar itself, the Thunder Knights. It didn't look to be more than a dozen, but...

"You do not trust them?"

"Trust is not something a man of your position should indulge in too often."

With that, the hand receded from his shoulder, and was replaced with a hearty slap on his back from the woman to his right.

"Dornt worry! Mah guidman and Ah can take a doen aye those shinin' horseboys with ease!"

From his left came the familiar laughter of her husband, although it was less carefree than it had been earlier in the day. No doubt he was already judging the strength of the escort against the welcoming party. None of them expected any foul play, but they were all too experienced to ignore the possibility. Behind him, the knights from the capital stayed silent, content to do their duty and nothing more. Considering Edmund Vidokar's conflicts with the king, they had been ready for conflict from the moment they stepped into the Rainlands. In front of the group rode a single bannerman, with the flag of House Ap'Arthmael below the flag of the Capital, clearly identifying the party to all around.

Upon reaching the gates one of the knights rode forward just as a light rain began to fall again.

"Honored Lord Ap'Cled- Arthmael of The Shattered Mountains, please accept the hospitality of House Vidokar and allow us to escort you through the city."

The slip of the tongue didn't bother Llewelyn in the slightest- it was after all almost unheard of for house names to change in Handon, he had encountered more than one diplomat over the last few months who had made similar errors.

"We accept the hospitality of House Vidokar, and thank you Sir Knight for guiding us through such a grand and unfamiliar city."

With the formalities exchanged, both parties joined together and the sounds of the countryside became drowned out by the sounds of the city as they made their way through Bluewater Rush.

And towards the looming castle of Three Towers.

My Heart is on the Throne

Hahahaha, nope.

I'll try to find more time before my next day off. Should give the rest of you more time to write up posts anyway hint.

My Heart is on the Throne

Tomorrow's the goal for my next post, we'll see if it happens.