Marquis Cadern Blackwood
I don't know what I'm doing but I do know it's gonna be awesome.
Description: Long and lean with broad shoulders and narrow, angular hips, Cadern has a rake’s build to go with his rakish grin. Time outdoors has bronzed his complexion, his skin smooth and youthful and taut over sturdy muscle. Dark waves of well-kept hair brush the points of his strong jaw and the lobes of his ears. Sometimes he can look a little scruffy, but it’s a stylish scruffy that suggests a certain amount of careful manicuring of that facial hair to be just unruly enough to look the playful rogue rather than looking like a hungover drunk.
(Cadern looks a little more harried than usual with his scruff growing a little longer.)
Personality: Cadern thrives in the cultural mishmosh of Arx. Chameleonic, he has subsumed himself entirely into the role of the playboy man-about-town, progressive and aggressive in his sampling of new things and his embrace of cultures beyond his own. Impish, good-humored and mischevious, he never found a good or bad joke he didn’t like, and he laughs just as much when he is the butt of a prank as when he masterminds one. He is clever and quick, witty and resourceful, and has an uncanny knack for when to use puppy dog eyes to good account. Fast talking, fast walking, with a short attention span that speeds him from interest and hobby to interest and hobby at breakneck speed, he is at home everywhere, and inclined to make friends with everyone. It’s very easy to find him obnoxious and like him anyway.
Background: Cadern was a rapscallion. A scavenger of attention. A thirsty little sneak who made it his business to get into things. He cherished freedom, the freedom to run amok, and clashed frequently with his older sister, with whom he had a seriously healthy sibling rivalry, especially when both were too young to temper themselves particularly. The shamans of the Ravenseyes knew what to do with a boy who wanted to get into trouble, though, and found ways to occupy him, to turn his impish mischief to good account, and to train him so that his garrulousness and wit could one day be used to the advantage of their family.
He chafed at being second to Aella, especially when the House first bent the knee to the Compact. He had hoped that swearing fealty to Redrain would mean casting aside old traditions and leaping whole-heartedly into a new life, a new culture, with the people of Farhaven whose arms would surely open wide to welcome them now that they were oath brethren. He had a few rude awakenings early on before settling into his new role, and still twitches restlessly for chances to prove himself.
Which sometimes means, to this day, that he has to talk himself out of a tight spot. Luckily, he always did have a glib tongue.