Name: Uriel ('flame/light of god') Le Crosse (Aryanpur)
Age: 23
Race: Human
Nationality: Sarifan-Valanian half-breed
Allegiance: Questionable-if any
Appearance: I will get a piece of artwork here later; until then, of medium height and a thin build and profile. His appearance looks more Valanian (caucasian) with darker skin for his Sarifan heritage. His hair is dark brown with a copper-gold sheen, cut roughly an inch-and-a-half long and his oblong face is clean-shaven.
In terms of garb, he usually sports a red and black leather vest atop a thinly sleeved, hooded black tunic, grey pants and knee-high black boots. At his belt is a bastard sword of a quality [i]far[/i] exceeding the rest of his attire, it's gold-colored Sarifen and Valanian designs and massive blood-red gem set into each side of the guard leading many to think it is stolen, and at his back is a satchel and a rather rugged bow and quiver.
Profession: Occasional thief and/or bandit, occasional mercenary, aristocrat, mage-for-hire
Biography: Uriel is, put simply, a bastard. Born of woman from a side-branch who survived the genocide of most of the Le Crosse family, he is one of Emperor Anush Arash Aryanpur I's rumored illegitimate children. This alone damned him as subject to political intrigue and a complicated family ere he was ever born, nevermind the ramifications of his Le Crosse heritage.
Raised early alongside his doting mother, a concubine to the Sarifan Emperor and possessed of an instinctive ambition-perhaps inherited from his father-, he developed a myriad of prideful, arrogant traits so characteristic to royal brats-too, though, a certain level of respect for gentleness and kindness. He, as per his mother's relative wealth and position, was educated extremely well. Particularly of note was his apparent talent for magic bordering on prodigial.
However, such men are want to lose interest in their paramours and whores-and, eventually, Anush did. Uriel's mother's favor began to wane until he eventually lost all interest in her. The funding for raising Uriel evaporated and, over the course of a few years, lost nearly everything-their estate taken in the conquest of Valania, her title given to another and all means of wealth gone, they became little higher than beggars in the street. For all her doting upon her 'little angel', Uriel's pride took more than a blow, having fallen from the son-even if an unrecognized bastard-of the Emperor to an outcast. Even during their time so poor, she idolized him; however, only to her was he the center of the world any longer, thrust into a city that did not care for him any longer. The sheer disparity was maddening and inset a strong doubt in him regarding his assumed place in relation to others. As he entered early adolescence, he began to suspect many things about his mother-and, by extension, himself. He began to respond to her praises and kisses with silence.
Eventually his concerns seemed to be confirmed; she grew ill and soon thereafter died to a disease especially common among prostitutes. His sweet, weak mother had been selling herself to support them. His bitter shame and anger at her festered as he finally was thrown into the street in full, no longer having even the money to stay their landlord.
Effectively an orphan, Uriel fell in with the other children of the street and left to survive a harsh life of stealing and running; he quickly learned to dart and run through the city, to speak with the foul-tongued and fight with what had previously been called 'dirty' tactics to endure.
However, to one born and trained so strongly, he came to dominate within a few years, and his arrogance again began to grow. While generally kind and caring, there was unquestionably a certain self-righteousness in him and an unrelenting belief-and constant need to prove-his own self-worth. He ruled as a king among the other young thieves and orphans for a time.
Yet, never was he content. While he felt much empathy amongst the others, he was always plagued by a sense that he did not belong. Often he would go and listen to traveller's tales of the world beyond the filthy back-streets, of other grand nations, of magic and of the workings of the world. It reminded him of what he had fallen from and of the few happy days he had thought he had belonged somewhere-his rightful place. These feelings weighed on him for several years before he finally heeded his craving. With only brief explanation, he prepared supplies and left the Sarifan city to see the other half of his heritage-Valdania.
It was far, far different from what he expected-the only culture he had seen in full was Sarifan before. The difference was striking-yet, somewhat familiar, akin to his pale, fair mother. It was here that he met a mage, to whom, after a time, convinced him to take him on as an apprentice. For three years, as he neared twenty, he studied under the genial old man-and again his pride was assaulted, for the strange old fool would have none of it. He schooled Uriel in philosophy and morality as much as magic, and Uriel, with such great respect for the man, listened enough to fall into deep confusion again. A certain kindness that had left him when his mother died began to wake again, a softness, a gentleness. It put him at great unease.
So, after three years, confused and seeking answers, he decided to seek audience with his father-to solve the aching madness in him that asked who and what he was. He returned to Sarifan and, surprisingly, was actually granted audience-even a bastard had some of his father's attention, it seemed. When asked, he showed his father his abilities who was much delighted and gave him a title and issued a smith and tailor to garb him as befitting a prince with such promise.
Yet little came of it. While the sword and clothes were tangible, the title itself was effectively worthless, acquiring him neither lands nor vocation nor income, and a mage of the Valdanian sort was in no demand in Sarife, their magic considered foreign or lesser or even blasphemous to some. And his father the Emperor, beyond meeting him, showed little interest in him-it was all pomp. Disgusted and once-again abandoned and his questions unanswered, he left to find the guidance of his mage-mentor-only to find him vanished, left from his shop and leaving no apparent trail.
Once again lost and with so many conflicting emotions, he began to travel Valdania on foot. His purse ran out and bandits were plentiful-he again resorted to thievery or even armed robbery to avoid sleeping in the dirt again. After one bandit attack while he was travelling with another group, he was hired as an escort to their destination-it was easy money and less shameful, if more bloody. He soon found that such mercenary odd-jobs-escorting, retrieving and so on-were a lucrative market that funded his travels well and was soon ensnared in it and, before he knew it, several years had passed, only for him to snap awake and realize that in his search, he had stopped truly searching for his answers. All he had to show for it, in the end, was blood on his hands and unanswered questions. Truly, he seemed damned to this aching emptiness inside him.