Herseur D'Sauveur

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Blasphemy carries a price that few men can bear. Lance Corporal Herseur D'Sauveur of the Ishgardian Temple Knights learned the weight of heresy well after cursing the name of his beloved goddess in rage after his first failure on the battlefield. The young cavalry officer was punished severely for spitting in the face of She who consecrated The Holy See, leading to brief imprisonment. After serving his sentence which ended prematurely, just after Nidhogg's awakening, he was swiftly transferred to a penal regiment and made one of many to lead the suicidal charges against the vile brood of Dravania. By sheer luck, the cavalryman survived alongside his only steed, Savisha, until the end of the war. Perhaps, he wondered, he was kept alive only because his debt to The Fury was not yet paid. Sickness overtook Herseur towards the end of the war, but its malevolence did not fully bloom until the day the Archbishop died. Pustules, gaping sores, and rotting wounds began to afflict him like a curse sent from on high, and the arrogant young man learned his place under The Fury as all he had loved was ripped from his hands. His beloved wife barred the door and windows, fearing that his pestilence would spread to their four sons. His regiment cast him out, seeing that he was no longer fit to serve in battle, nor was he fit to serve alongside the able-bodied. With nothing but shame left to his name, he took his steed and rode down The Steps of Faith one last time, exiling himself from his home not just out of humiliation, but for the sake of his own kin. None deserved a curse that he believed was designed solely for him.


Few behold the face of the shameful leper, but those who do often feel their stomachs churn in disgust. His pallid skin clings tight to ailing sinew like bleached parchment, thin and fragile. Dueling scars, earned from a youth of saber fencing, have reopened and gone fetid, rotting through his right cheek in such a way that nearly all of his teeth show along it. Sullen, sunken eyes have not yet lost their vitality nor color, however, and shine through his hideous visage as piercing rays of frigid blue. Beyond his countenance, Herseur's frame shows equal signs of decay. He once towered over his compatriots and bore shoulders so broad that they put many men to shame, but muscular atrophy has stricken him, especially at the core, causing him to lurch forward naturally. His firm posture often looks awkward and forced, as standing straight has become a conscious effort for him.
Aspects That Stand Out:
He is neurotic about keeping all of his skin covered in numerous heavy layers.
His face is utterly mutilated, visible only when he needs to remove his mask for fresh air or sustenance.
Occasionally his hands tremble. His shakes are far more pronounced and widespread after a coughing fit.


Quick to anger but quick to calm, Herseur is a mercurial man enslaved to his own volatility. His ambitions are betrayed by his own rage, and his silver tongue is rendered into little but mud with the venom he spews when provoked. As a man with little time left, he has abandoned his formalities, his patience, and much of his compassion.


Coffee. A warm drink in his stomach and a touch of caffeine make each daily struggle just a touch more manageable.
Chocobos. Few gifts from Halone could ever compare to a steed that's loyal to the end.


Healers'. Enough snake oil salesmen and malicious surgeons have promised cures to a man desperate for any respite he can get. Any healer other than the one he picked for himself is just another predator to be wary of.
Closed spaces. Between prison cells, quarantines, and the feverish mayhem of melee, he has had few good experiences in closed spaces.


Saber fencing. Old habits die hard. For the sake of keeping his swordplay fresh, he's happy to risk some skin. It's all bound to fall off sooner or later anyways.
Chanting. His suffering's given way to a faith stronger than any he's ever felt. He makes sure to devote what little breath he has left to The Fury.


Wary. Betrayal after betrayal has given him strong survivalist instincts. He's seldom caught off-guard unless eased into a moment of respite.
Loyal. A lapdog to the very end.


Paranoid. Gifts are just vectors of manipulation. Kindness is just a sleeve concealing a dagger meant to slip between his ribs. None can be trusted until he's been cleansed of wickedness.


Absolution - Life is ticking away faster than ever. Unforgiven sins loom heavily over him. Every act must contribute to earning Her favor, no matter how bold or reckless.

Family Involved Romantic Platonic Physical Friend Acquaintance $ Business Deceased Positive Negative Neutral Unsure
Sofia D'sauveur, . ( Estranged ) - Wife.
Character's Thoughts: "The day we wed, our flesh became one. As mine sloughs from bone, I cannot imagine what's become of yours."
Cycles have passed with the two not even writing to one another. Their marriage was loving once, even though it was full of conflict. Herseur is unsure of what's become of her.
Iseult Sauveterre, . (Traveling companion) - Personal healer.
Character's Thoughts: "I foresee you slitting my throat as I sleep sooner than I foresee you showing any semblance of joy. I wish I knew why I trust you of all creatures."
None have been so dependable, nor as suspicious, as Iseult Sauveterre. A guide both in bodily and spiritual health, she has been the thread of every suture keeping Herseur together. No matter how long they've traveled together, however, Herseur is still yet to shake the feeling that he is merely a pawn to one who holds so much power over him.
Savisha. ( Chocobo ) - The Most Loyal
Character's Thoughts: "My oldest friend, unfazed by my monstrous visage. Few men deserve a companion so selfless."
Where men turn away or spit at the ailing leper, his dear steed remained. Uncaring for his master's condition, Savisha continues to carry the man into battle and back. The two are inseparable.



Some of these rumors are untrue, speculation, or are greatly exaggerated.

◢ Common Rumors - Easily overheard. Use these freely!
"They say he's practically unseamed under that gambeson. The second he takes it off his guts would spill about."
◢ Uncommon Rumors - A little more difficult to hear. Use sparingly or ask first!
"Serves a heretic right to end up exiled and rotting to pieces. Can you believe he conspired against the Church?"
◢ Rare Rumors - Very rarely overheard. Please ask before using!
"Sofia had to call the Temple Knights to get him to leave her be. She said he sat in front of the door in the cold for days and nights, begging to say goodbye to his boys. They couldn't even recognize his voice; he sounded more like a demon than their father."


Feel free to add your own rumors to this section.

◢ Player Character Rumors - Some of these are more rare than others!
"He is perhaps the most disgusting man I have ever laid eyes upon. I’ve seen drug addicts with more teeth and a healthier complexion." — Ephy Rhia.
"Rumor." — Rumormonger.



Player Note
I'm fairly patient so don't let the miserable character fool you. I'm always looking to make large storylines that connect FCs and help people get to know each other better on this grand ole server so let me know if you want to do anything of that scale.
Personal RP Limits
I'd prefer vulgarity kept to a minimum. I don't want to hear about your characters' sex lives and my character sure doesn't, either. If you think of approaching a leper for ERP, I'd suggest you instead approach a clinical therapist.
I will play Hit me up if you need a villain for your FC or for your character. Morally bankrupt bandits and religious zealots are my thing.
I won't play Slice of life bores me to death.

Character Lore Adherence
I try my best to adhere to lore and expect my RP partners to do the same. That being said, I won't get in someone's face for being a little off with their RP. I would like any of my lore incoherence to be pointed out to me privately, though, so I can quickly fix it. I don't bite so please do let me know if I mess something up. I haven't been in this setting for too long.

Name - Herseur D'Sauveur
Race - Ishgardian Wildwood
Age - 31
Name Day - 11th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon
Deity - Halone

Alias: Pale Rider
Citizenship: None
Occupation: NEET
Hair color: Dirty blonde
Eye color: Pale blue
Complexion: Sickly pale
Piercings: None
Marks or tattoos: Intense scarring
Alignment: True Neutral
Key Items: Cavalry saber
Favorite Food: Salted bread
Favorite Drink: Water
Favorite Color: Grey
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