Erimmont Chevalier

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"Tell me. What is it that differentiates you from the beasts you claim yourself superior to? Whatever foolish notion you cling to while making yourself feel like a better person, the answer is that your kind prefers to hide under false pretenses. Myself? I'm merely a predator who adapted to better hunt his prey." ~ Erimmont Chevalier


T'was a fine day, the twenty-third of the Third Umbral Moon when Erimmont Chevalier took his very first breath of air into his lungs. Yes, the boy had lucked out that day as he found himself born to the father who served as a wealthy and respected adventurer along with his mother... whom, sadly, did not make it through the strain of his birth. Though let it not be sad the woman died in agony. Upon seeing the fruits of her labor, the dear woman laid herself to rest with a smile on her face, knowing her time had come.

The father did all he could for little Erimmont. Taught him the finer points of archery and the joys of the arts when he was still young. The only mistake he made, of course, was allowing him to search through his mother's old collection of novels where he stumbled upon the first of what was to be many saucy texts read by the man: "The Passionate Seas", the tale of a vicious and rugged pirate by the name of Captain Wood and how he sailed the seas, stealing away a rich man's bride... only to find himself longing for her as she stole away his heart and found herself ravaged by more than just his charm.

Such a tale began his addiction to such novels. Most of his time was spent indulging in the guilty pleasure. Every so often, his father would call upon him to aid in a little adventure or two. It wasn't until Monty had reached the age of twenty that things took a turn for the worst. The task was a simple one: Get an unmarked package from point A to point B. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course. Many saw adventurers as a means to get their 'goods' where they needed to go. This task, however, was seen to be a set-up of sorts. As father and son walked the path, they soon found their way blocked by what looked to be a crew of bandits. Not uncommon.. until they found both sides surrounded. Before they could turn to flee, an arrow found the heart of his father, dropping the man who's last moment was spent reaching out towards his son. The last words exchanged were few: "Run, boy! Run!"

Run he did, winding his way through the path, taking detours and covering his trail as his father had taught him. Even as tears found themselves falling from his eyes, the boy never stopped until he reached home. The funeral went as planned. The body of the man had been gathered from the roadside, a small blessing through the tragedy. As they spoke the rites to lay him to rest, a hand touched upon Monty's shoulder. A woman of such alluring beauty and charm that there was little he could do to resist her. His heart lay open and vulnerable as she took it into her hands to nurse his inner wounds. Though his love for her was swift, drawing him towards marriage was a far bigger task.

It was five years after the passing of his father that he finally agreed to it. The wedding was to be a grand one indeed. Though his family was well respected for their efforts to aid those in need, they were also well known for the amount of wealth they had brought together through their success. Monty stood before the hidden vault that held their riches, a budget in hand as he drew out the required coin when his world suddenly turned very, very dark.

There was a dull ache at the back of his skull when next he awoke in a chair. Twisting his wrists, he found them bound firmly behind him. The room itself was poorly lit and only one figure could be seen amongst the many he could hear. The figure stood hooded and shrouded in a garb that he had only seen once... and it was enough to tell him how very foolish he'd been. As the hood fell, the face of his bride-to-be stood smirking over him with a blade in hand. While he mentally prepared himself for the worst to come, he instead found himself being lectured.

Lectured for how much of a fool he was. How difficult it had been to finally get him to open that vault after years and years of prodding. Before he could react, he found that blade she held strike him once across each cheek, deep enough to leave a horrid scar on both. The one on the left was to remind him of this day and how his own stupidity had doomed him to the life he was about to lead. The one on the right was to remind him never to waste the time of his betters. As the vault was left empty and the rest of them shuffled out, the woman leaned down to whisper one last thing into his ear. "The pleasure of killing your father was all mine, lover."

His world went black once more and it was to the sounds of a carriage in motion that he awoke. Darkness had long since fallen over the road. The man drawing the carriage gave a short and crude laugh before informing the man of what was to become of him. They couldn't have him go spouting shite about the death of his father or his betrayal by the woman's hands. No. Erimmont Chevalier was to be made into a slave. The news was unsurprising at this point. Given the shock of all the recent and dark events, the man couldn't bring his heart to care much more.

Still, he wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction of having their plan go without a hitch. Discovering a large shard of splintered wood, the man buried the thing into his own flesh in order to work it into the ropes that bound him. Though his blood spilled heavily and he was left scarred by the ordeal, he managed to sever the rope and escape out the back of the wagon. Left nude and without much in the way of a weapon, he had but one choice. His father's words rang within his head once more as he took to the darkness and made his escape. Once more, he covered his tracks and made use of all the knowledge his father had bestowed upon him until he had found his way home.

There wasn't much to be done when it came to charges. They had already made their way far out of the law's reach. Left without anything to his name save his collection, he began anew. Through the events that had happened and the help of his novels, he realized there was no such thing as love. Love was meant for fairy tales and saucy texts. Reality had no use for it. With that in mind, he allowed his home one final goodbye before taking his leave to live life deep within the Shroud, away from any who might try to draw him once more into the life that he abandoned.

Most often regarded as the soft-spoken and intellectual gentleman, Erimmont Chevalier has crafted his facade well over the years. Often able to win over the trust of complete strangers simply by analyzing and playing to their personality. Quick to offer his aid to those he thinks worthy of it and one to lend his ear to those in need, he rarely finds himself amongst enemies.

Under the guise, the man considers himself amongst the civilized and carries himself as such. Those that look to contend with his dominance find themselves faced with the wolf in sheep's clothing - a cold and calculating creature who holds no issue using whatever means required to remove the threat permanently. Very little warning is given to those who find themselves pressing their luck save the growl that begins faint and grows more vicious the closer they push towards that limit.

Other Notes


Hunting: As one who has lived most of his life within the wilds fending for himself, hunting became more than simple sport or a quick meal. It was a way of life. One that Erimmont holds close to his heart even with so many other avenues of sustaining himself. Those who happen through the Twelveswood often enough might well find the man dressed in furs with a bow in hand as he tracks his prey through the wood.

Writing: After the discovery of his mother's collection, Erimmont was quite taken by the tales of romance. While he realizes full well such stories are nothing more than flights of fancy and hold no place in reality, he still finds comfort in taking his quill into hand and scrawling his own. Having had several novels published under the nom-de-plume of Shroudheart, he has since discontinued writing for the eyes of others. He does still have a personal collection of those written but unseen by the public eye and works from others that he deems either so awful they're wonderful.

Research: A proper predator must understand the weakness of his prey and how best to exploit it. Through research, Erimmont has learned many a different method of aetherical manipulation and how best to counter them should they be utilized against him and his pack. Not one to ever be content knowing what he does, it's often he'll seek out new knowledge for his own benefit. Such is why the Artifice of Reason was so appealing.


Arrogance/Ignorance: A wise man knows when to admit he is outmatched and hold his tongue. The foolish allow theirs to flap uselessly in attempts to hide their fear. The last woman who blustered so towards Erimmont found her arm mangled and mutilated by his hand, left to bleed alone in silence soon after. His tolerance for such behavior is minimal.

Disrespect of the wood: Hailing from the Twelveswood and knowing full well of just how damaging the actions of one creature can be for the wood, Erimmont is incredibly fierce in his dedication to the defense of his territory around the Lifemender Stump. The sight of a beast carcass stripped for fur and left to rot is more than enough to ensure his dedication to hunting those responsible down and making an example of them to discourage others from following their steps. He is a firm believer that if a life is taken, you make use of everything that life had to offer.

The Greys: Though not normally one for racism, the Duskwight Erimmont has met within the cities have left a rather foul taste in his mouth. Those he's encountered have often made themselves out to be more than what they are with one even going so far as to charm a dear friend into believing the man to be incredibly powerful when he was not but a boy with a few parlor tricks. He'll not outright share any hostility with their ilk but earning his trust is far more difficult for these few.


  • Shiori Eikitaika (PC) - His lover and fiance, Shiori Eikitaika made fast friends with Erimmont upon his recruitment into her ranks. What first began as the mutual bond of paired healers working in tandem flourished in the wake of tragedy after her beloved was stolen away from her within the Twelveswood, prompting Erimmont to guide her through the forest to slaughter those responsible. While uncertain of the notion given her loss, Shiori has all but proven herself a worthy mate to the man and one he would gladly protect without question.


  • Ravusa Evomere (PC) - The one woman to ever square off against Erimmont and meet him as an equal, Ravusa has gained his utmost respect as both comrade and leader. Though the battle left him bloodied and the manor's foundations in shambles, a bond was forged in the wake of their furious spellwork against one another that has only improved with time.


Disclaimer: The notes below are purely in character and are not influenced at all by OOC, or how well I know anyone outside of RP. If there's a missing listing, it's either due to the author's poor memory or they've fallen out of contact in previous months.

  • Kei Aozora (PC) - A woman whos love for gil is unmatched by any other. Though their ties lay mainly within the business between their companies, her usefulness and ability to keep her end of a bargain has left a respectable impression upon Erimmont. With both going out of their way to benefit the other, such a friendship can only look to provide both parties with what they desire.
  • Odette Saoirse (PC) - An odd woman who only seeks freedom that reminds Erimmont ever so much of himself when he was young. Seeing her more and more as a daughter of sorts, Erimmont has offered the woman special treatment and fatherly advice on more than one occasion. Regardless that she loathes the rest of his pack, he understands her reasoning and provides for her whatever she may require.

Other Connections

Common Rumors

  • "You ever want to make contact with the Artifice of Reason, you talk to that one. Likely one of the most sane out of all of their number. Not bad looking either."
  • "Word is that those scars were punishment for eloping with a Lady of Ishgard. Lord caught on and didn't take too kindly to it."

Moderate Rumors

  • "There's something cold in those blue eyes. Even with that gentle smile on his face, he makes my skin crawl."

Rare Rumors

  • "The Twelveswood Chimera. Son of Woodsin. He's rumored to have left tresspassers and poachers broken for the beasts they hunted to pick off."

PC Rumors

(( You're more than welcome to add any rumor you'd look, for better or worse. Hit me! ))

IC Quotes

Posted as they are created.


Entered as it's created!

The Cage
Artist: Sonata Arctica
Origin: Ecliptica
Context: Character theme?

This section contains any stories related to this character, and anything written ICly.

Full Disclosure: I made use of several snippets I found on various profiles but the main contributor was Ciel Sauveterre. Credit for the design goes to her as far as I'm aware. Be certain to take a look at her profile for she's a divine role-player herself.

 Erimmont Chevalier
Erimmont Chevalier 2016.jpg
The Twelveswood Chimera
The Son of Woodsin
Gender Male
Race Elezen
Clan Halfblood (Wildwood/Duskwight)
Citizenship Twelveswood
Age 65
Height 6'4"
Weight 210 Ponze
Eye Color Crystalline Blue
Alignment Chaotic Good
Patron Deity The Lifemender