"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.
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.
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.
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.
(( You're more than welcome to add any rumor you'd look, for better or worse. Hit me! ))
Posted as they are created.
Entered as it's created!
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.