Personality ( 328 words )

Charismatic with a Roguish Charm. Cunning, and shrewd though often obscures it. Flippant and often Sarcastic, Serious when it matters, and Faithful when it counts. Tempestous and Vindictive when angered, he's not a petty man prone to grudges, but he never forgets. Honest to the point of often being Blunt. Sympathetic to the downtrodden and defenseless, Resentful of the oppressor. Hedonistic but has a Loyal heart. Stubborn, and unafraid to dig his heels in when he believes he's right. Observant and Intuitive, able to Adapt to situations as they arise. Hates unfinished business, pursues it like a man possessed.

Outwardly, Rhen is a man who puts forward an air of someone who enjoys a leisurely pursuit in life. On further reading, and examination, one will find that he's anything but lackadaisical or lacking in ambition. Nor the determination to seize what he's set his mind upon. His accolades are eyewatering and numerous, his commendations and recommendations equally prestigious and gleaming. One wouldn't say Rhen is modest, but he lacks the boastful and prideful edge most would have at his stage of career, and seemingly enjoys it's absence. A lover of cheap thrills, crass attitudes and theatrics — favours the common mans flavour of entertainment. His upbringing gives him an unprecedented privilege seldom afforded to the majority of the masses, and he treats it with the due diligence it requires. Doesn't believe in outing his sources, enjoys keeping mum.

Individuals closest to Rhen know him further still, the kind of man who buys the first and last rounds in, a voracious flirt who knows how to have a good time. Doesn't do regrets, only hard lessons. A fierce and uncompromising lover, his vision of romance is complex and obscure. Rhen's passion for his friends is only outshone by his need to protect, and potentially, die for them. He's an unwavering, unyielding bulwark of moral and emotional support that will be the first to the line and last to leave it.

History ( 2,159 words ).

Rhen's birth was rather unremarkable, really, and while he's long learned that obscuring the truth is favor of a more flavorful introduction is the spice of life ( and the key to the perfect icebreaker ). He, like his elder siblings, was a culmination of two opposing forces collapsing together in the name of love. Something right out of the pages of those racy little romance novels tucked beneath parchment papers, hidden behind the daunting first edition of some archmage's lifes work, sampled when deprecating eyes are firmly fixated elsewhere. However, once you're the fourth child & fourth son of a vague scandal, the oft uttered heir & the spare becomes something of a jape made in bad taste at best, and a scathing remark, at worst. If life was indeed the cake many enjoyed likening it to, then his siblings had long gorged on the goodwill of fortune, and that of their parents — leaving nothing but crumbs and consolations for the last.

As such, Rhen's beginnings were marked with a sense of disparity he seldom understood but keenly felt. The nigh-ancient house of his mother's line was filled to the brim with cousins, aunts, uncles & so forth — who were deemed to be as fixed and constant as the stars overhead, and blessed with magic by degrees. They would inherit the vast quantities of responsibility and duties, and security that seemed to both bless and curse such seats. What need had they of a particular brood of children whose good name was supposedly marked by the stain that was their fathers lack of good standing, reputable name and honorable rapport? Salvaged to an acceptable state through their better half. One was enough to secure their the comfortable nook, a second was viewed as an insurance policy, the third was an unexpected surprise — but four?

Days were whittled away with private tutors and nannies to keep little ears and curious minds occupied, while the adults spoke in hushed whispers beneath lush canopies and rims of ornate and eyewateringly expensive cups. Already Rhen was proving to be a handful, smarter than he often let on, and likely to turned up at the right place at the wrong time. He could charm the kitchen maids to slip him sweets between meals, and provoke the footmen to part with the evenings gossip after a customary and comfortable exchange of pleasantries. At his worst moments, the stern downturn of his mouth signalled thunder in a far off valley, warding off the meek and the strong alike in a premptive strike; a storm warning clearly articulated through the lighthouse of his features. One moment he was intense, a blackened squall churning wine dark seas, and the next amenable once more. Even his magical aptitude sprouted young, painting a cold and glittering expanse on the leathery tapestry of his wings. Eyes which had once been dark sapphire, oceans within oceans, swept themselves into an eery orchestra of both the frigid expanse and the fathomless abyss. Pupils swallowed by a dark embrace; shedding motes of eerie blue with each flutter of raven lashes.

House Solaris had no need of another mage, let alone an individual that would languish on the sidelines ( not by choice ). They certainly didn't need one whose magic manifested like a cold front of death ( unfortunate incident with Cousin Circe's birds ). Likewise, the youngest of the Rommel's had began to chafe under a new awareness, each nameday bringing with it an awakening which had the polarising ability to both gladden and sicken him, a present from early onset maturity. He could've been the most exceptional case, but the brand of mediocrity had already been applied, by values he could not control or change. He was nine when they placed him upon the landship to Ivras, petty platitudes ringing in his ears — but he remembers most keenly his mothers and fathers faces in that moment. Their mixture of shock, disappointment and guilt. He was to carve a life out with a distant relative, an aunt — who had once been like him, others said with thin lipped smiles. Once he'd done his training in Namarast, of course.

Namarast was the stark and unforgiving culture shock you might expect. Sequestered away within a hive of fellow minded individuals, a thousand leagues from any semblance of home, hearth and any sense of practicality. It was a hard lesson to both swallow & learn: there was only you, everyone else, and a plethora of arcane knowledge you were expected to inhale, and exhale excellence. Gone were the lavish trappings, and creature comforts of everything you knew. Stood alone on the head of a pin, you were expected to soar, or land in a crumpled heap upon the floor. Life from here on out was a set of sharp jagged teeth, and Rhen decided that he was going to sharpen his own set. If this was his lot, then he would excel beyond expected trajectories, or pigeon holes. Home represented a past he could not go back to, even in weak moments of homesickness and wavering confidence where he found himself wishing in those early years, where he was still gangly with youth, for that mediocre obscurity.

While he wasn't disagreeable to their teachings — in fact Rhen had a voracious appetite when loosed — he proved himself a pillar of seldom moving conviction, should he be inspired ( stubborn, might've been the word professors might've used on their notes ). He listened, curt smile and arched browed at the best of times, as if privy to a joke you were not entitled to know, but surely part of. Other times, he engaged in the rhetoric with theories and answers tailored to engage both opponent and spectator, Professors would occasionally ask him to remain after seminar to discuss the days teachings, and learn the method behind his taken notes. To fellow Mages, both the discarded, displaced and the willing — Rhen was a wall of unrelenting charisma and evocative conversation. Appearing should you seemingly needed a friend, or an additional pair of eyes as words were beginning to unforgivingly blur together on a page. Starvation does that to a child — the social kind born in the cradle — planting another kind of hunger. Years after Namarest, he'll come to learn that it's a two way street, liable to be pulled both ways.

Academic excellence came naturally to him, if he desired to learn it, courses and books would not escape his grasp for long. Consumed alongside a frankly alarming amount of spiced tea in the libraries after dark, between seminars and demonstrations. The finer points of applied magic in the field of battle were absorbed, trialled, adjusted — and treated, with gritted teeth and a clerics wallflower smile. Then came the perilous pitfalls of political history, carefully considered and tucked away. Learning from his predescessors successes and failures, the halls of rhetoric were a considerable hot spot, his arguments. Ivras' own turbulent history & culture were dutifully intoned, as a stranger in a strange land, one must be well equipped for effortless blending with the masses.

Rhen aimed to be a triple threat, while simultaneously ensuring an inability to simply be cast aside. Impactful as a meteor strike, as charismatic as velvet & gold. He might confess that what began as a youthful mission in spite, became something of a passion project of his own making, once he realised that it was not necessity that drove him, but want. Call it the proverbial torch to the pyre, but the reluctant, resentful Rhen who arrived to the winding reclusive Namarest had long since faded away. Consumed and replaced, by something profoundly better. In his place stood a young man with an iron proof conviction, an internal library containing a wealth of information and a long list of individuals he called friend & acquaintence alike, their relationships carefully tailored and continously fed. He would not only rise, but ascend. Visiting notable figures from Faline's political and mageocratic sphere didn't escape his presence, Rhen dedicated surplus hours into rubbing elbows with them in the intervening moments of their duties and visits, sharing laughter.

Eventually, Rhen earned his coveted knighthood — and with it a placement within Faline. His relatives estate became his jumping point, welcomed with open arms and a look which transcended words. The Fane's were an Old and Noble house, their roots strong and sure within both the Order and the Ivratian Navy. Their numbers had waned over the generations, with War and a string of unfortunate incidents taking Sons and Daughters alike. His aunt was an uncompromising force of inspiration, her tools, wisdom and experience navigating the ever changing world, were his should he need it. Her home would not shun him like their ancestral one had with false and petty plattitudes, which made already raw and weeping wounds bleed anew. In him, she saw the Son she never had, but desperately wanted. Even her husband, the austere & indomitable Lord Fane, welcomed him and summarily adopted & assimilated him as his own. In them, Rhen had the unwavering force of familial acceptance and encouragement. It didn't take long for rumors to swirl with rapid abandon, that the Lord and Lady Fane had been hiding a Son all this time. Secretly sequestered away in order to be raised free of distraction, and free of any unfortunate mishaps that might plague him. The rumor was carefully cultivated to be received as a benefical anecdote rather than a critical one. Rhen was Lord Fane's only son and heir, the apple of Lady Fane's eye.

In the beginning he does a reputable tenor as a Mage Protector, a sworn sword and shield to the inhabitants of the capital, protecting them from the long dark night that is both the arcane nightmare and the everyday man's fears. He was, on paper, ever the dutiful son of both House Fane and of Ivras, electing to serve her people through blood & sweat, ready to give his life if needed. Close to the ground it allowed Rhen an unprecedented and unfiltered view of Faline, unblemished by the rose tinted glasses of the upper echeleons. Allowed him to become immersed in the people who while distrustful of his status of a mage, were left with very little choice but to lean on his kind as support. Entrenched with his fellow Protectors. While the movement was genuine, and the care deep, it was something that could, with well meaning intentions, be exploited to his personal benefit. It wasn't long before his ambitions, familial ties and connections would see him take on a more political role at the urging of a plethora of individuals both new and old. His network carefully sown, cultivated to bloom in both Namarest & Faline, and even beyond. Trailing vines wrapped around figures who were both transient and jack of all trades, made him a hard contender to ignore for further persuits. Mediocrity would not be the cup he supped from.

Rhen was appointed to the Royal Council in the Fall of 1231, near the anniversary of the Marriage between King Gladius and Sabora. After years of exemplary service to not just the Crown and the Order, but the people of Faline at large. Recognition of Rhen's unique space between two vying points, his council is refreshing and often frank. Rhen is Popular with his fellow Mage Protectors, who view him as one of their own ( and not part of the cushioned who haven't necessarily bled, suffered or been particularly uncomfortable a day in their life. ) He fancies himself something of the voice of the every man, despite being somewhat divorced from the meaning of the word. He has an uncanny finger pressed against the pulse point of Ivras, seemingly having an ear pressed here and there. Rhen is notoriously slippery when he wants to be, and infamously charismatic to the point of frustration for those that want to see him trip. His popularity with fellow Mage Protectors, however, could be viewed as something of a problem, if things were to ever go awry. He remains studiously loyal not just to King Gladius, but to his Mage compatriots — whom he considers family.

The subsequent corruption & death of Archmage Hagia in the Spring 1233, and the appointment of Archon Miriam in the Summer of 1233 has left a sour taste in Rhen's mouth. While he could, truthfully, claim no love for Hagia on a personal level — her tenor, power and controversies earned her a deep respect. She was a polarising woman who was unapologetic in her mannerisms and ideals. Miriam however, unimpressed with a fear mongering non-mage in a position of power over the very people she means to subjugate, and the rumors of Witchfinders apparently snatching children right out of their beds. Escalating the stories he'd learned when he was a boy, from fellow Order recruits from Nymene & beyond. He, along with many other Mages, joined Sabora's & Guro's Mage Court.

Extra

• Continues to serve as a decorated Mage Protector when not called to serve in the Royal Council, he's one of the first to throw himself at a problem.

• Has a neutral stance on Wild Mages, he's not particularly for them or against them.

• Despises Archon Miriam & her Witchhunters, joined the Mage Court in order to further the end of her reign of terror.

• Popular with the Mage Protectors specifically, though he has a favorable rapport with the majority of the Order with aligning ideals. He's not a huge fan of Order individuals who choose to sequester themselves within Namarest, viewing them as naive.

• Bit of a lush, typically spends a lot of his downtime in Taverns in Faline. Though it could be argued that Rhen prefers everything particularly non-noble.

• Possesses a very deep, smoothe and sonorous voice. His accent is largely Ivratian, but occasionally contains an unusual twinge on certain words and emphasis'.

• Shirks a lot of the finery and flamboyance one might expect of a decorated, appointed councilman. Would probably show up to council in his training leathers if it wasn't a cardinal sin.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊