Description: Hair the color of dark coffee falls from this man's head in loose waves, strands of straw blonde highlights that are all too natural seemingly woven in by how expertly they appear to be placed. The hair falls just above his shoulders, a stark color contrast to the cooler pale of his skin and the sharp eyes that look out from beyond. His square jaw, frequent stubble and solid build all provide a foundation for his frame, on the toned side though compared to the warriors of the realm, none would call him truly muscular, the power seeming to focus into those eyes that take the world in.

Personality: Quick. Quick of mind and thought, quick of temper, quick to quip and quick to laugh, there is very little of Renfry's personality that could not be defined by that one word, though at times, in quiet, something darker seems to rest.

Background: Luck has never been the kindest to Renfry, though she always allowed him just enough leeway to pull through. The son of the cousin of the Baron of Lighthall, a former Lyonesse house, he wasn't strong enough to become a great soldier, did not have a tactical enough mind to become a great commander, and lacked the discipline to become a scholar. He was, in other words, a typical example of noble excess, riding on his family name to build up credit and spend silver that he really should not have had access to during his teenage years. He developed a reputation for having more eyes for the women of the local villages than his duties, and shortly after he came of age, his father sent him away to Wyrmguard lands to try to work on a political marriage in the hopes that he would perhaps succeed in that.

It was a fateful choice. Dallying on the trip for weeks longer than had originally been planned, he eventually came to Blancbier to learn news that had made its way ahead of him: while he was on the road, a shav battalion had attacked and razed his home to the ground, putting every single member of his family to the sword. Worse yet, the crops had been raided and the buildings of the townsfolk within the barony torn asunder. There was nothing to come home to. No domain, and debt accrued. The succession was clear: as the only living member of blood, he was now the Baron of Lighthall.

Of course, a baron with massive personal debt and little desire to rule do not a successful land make, particularly when the ruler turns to alcohol to soothe his grief. What little silver came in was spent rapidly, what little progress in recovery coming painstakingly, and ever the debt did accrue. Five years in, he reached a moment of clarity that this was unsustainable when he found his entire hold deserted.

A hard conversation was had, and a deal was made with his liege, the lands reabsorbed back into the holdings of the county, and the title of Baron removed. He would retain his nobility on one condition only -- that he put himself seriously to a field of study and contribute back, repaying his debt.

Now a member of the very house he lost his title to, at the age of 27, he began to take life seriously. The next six years were spent in study and practical application of economic theory, and he managed to start to recover his reputation, contributing enough to not be stonewalled at every gathering of his peers. With the word of a new baroness of Elwood, another noble who had recovered her name from a disastrous mistake made earlier in her life, he saw a second chance to prove what he could be. The negotiations were made, and soon, he was off to Arden to prove that he was going to be able to make something of himself this time, with full understanding that this is very likely the last chance luck will ever grant him.